just because its the first time she's felt like she's had one

When the sorcerer found the dragon, it was attacking a grape.

This was only possible because the dragon was not much larger than a grape itself, but she still had to do a double take to be sure the object it was fighting with such animosity was in fact inanimate.

She crouched so that her eyes were level with the top of the table and squinted at it. The dragon sank its tiny fangs into the grape’s skin and gave a great tug, succeeding only in throwing it and the grape into a backwards tumble. The tiny green reptile rolled to a stop with its whole body wrapped around the grape and shook its head ferociously, managing to pull its teeth out but also launching the grape across the table. It gave a mighty roar of anger (about as loud as a human clearing their throat) and stalked after it, tail swishing dangerously.

“Do you need help?” she offered.

The dragon froze mid-prowl and whipped its head around to look at her, looking so offended she almost apologized for asking.

“I mean, I could peel it for you, if that’s the problem.” She wasn’t sure it was getting the message. One could never tell how much human language these little creatures picked up by hanging around the magic labs. Some understood only such essentials as “scat!” or “oh fuck, that sure did just explode”, while others could hold entire conversations — if they deigned to interact.

This one looked like it was deciding whether she was worthy. Finally, it sniffed daintily and flicked its tail, scales clacking together. “Little monster is my prey, and you can’t have it. Found it first. Will devour it!”

“Oh, sure,” she agreed. “But you know it’s a grape, right?”

This was the wrong thing to say. It glared at her and then bounded away to the other end of the table, where it slithered up to the grape and pounced on it.

Grape and dragon promptly rolled off the edge of the table.

The sorcerer quickly went around to that side, alarmed that it would be stepped on. The labs were bustling with shoppers stopping by to watch demonstrations this time of day, and a small dragon wouldn’t be easily visible on the blue and green tiled floor.

“Horrible! Dirty!” The tiny dragon was screeching at the top of its lungs, holding onto its prey for dear life. It would have been hard to hear anyway, with all the noise of the labs, but with the sorcerer’s diminished hearing it took several seconds to locate the screaming creature.

She scanned the pattern of the tiles for it and sighed. “Oh, hold on, we mopped this morning.” She cupped her hands around it and deposited it into her skirt pocket, an indignity the dragon endured only with more screaming.

“An outrage! Put me down!”

“Shh,” she advised. Lab workers were strongly discouraged from bringing creatures into the back rooms, which was where she was heading, picking her way through the crowded front lab.

“Fuck pockets!” her pocket responded.

“Oh, you can curse. Wonderful.”

The dragon seemed to take this as an actual compliment. “Am multitalented. Can also compose poetry.”

“Really? Can I hear some?”

“No. For dragon ears only.” It sounded viciously pleased to hold this over her head. The bulge in her pocket rearranged itself, and she thought it might be trying to gnaw on the grape.

She felt herself smiling even as she tried to squash her mouth into a straight line. She liked this little bad-tempered thing, even though its spiky feet were digging into her thigh.

In the much quieter kitchen of the back rooms behind the lab, she transferred the wriggling, scaly handful from her pocket to the table. The dragon hissed out a few more insults as it got up and straightened itself out, but its jaw fell open when it finally took in its surroundings. She’d set it down next to the fruit bowl.

“There you go. Food mountain.”

The dragon’s shock didn’t last long. Abandoning the grape, it scraped and scrabbled its way up the side of the bowl and from there onto an apple, its claws leaving tiny puncture marks as it hiked to the top of the arrangement. “Food mountain!” It repeated, its gleeful crowing much clearer and almost sing-song without having to compete with the noise of the crowd.

She watched it turn in a circle, surveying the feast. “But… cannot eat it all,” it observed after a while, crestfallen. “Human-sized. Big shame.”

“Don’t you have nest-mates who can help you with it?” she asked. She had assumed not, from the way it had apparently been foraging for food on its own, but she needed to be sure she’d found a loner.

“No nest. No mates. No nest-mates. You’re rude.” It flopped down ungracefully, wings spread out flat on the apple like it was trying to hug the entire much-larger fruit.

She gave it a moment to be dramatic, and then offered it the grape, minus the peel. “You seem to have a good grasp on human-speak.”

It grabbed the grape without so much as a thank you. “Yes. Have composed poetry in both Dragonese and Humanese. Not for humans to hear, though.” Bragging cheered it up a little.

“You mentioned. I can’t hear very well, anyway.” She pulled up a stool and sat down. “Actually, I’ve been looking for a helper.”

“An assistant,” it said, apparently showing off its Humanese. “An attendant. An aid.”

She watched it bury its snout in the grape, juice dribbling down onto the apple it sat on. “Yes. A hearing aid. How would you feel about having a job?”

It smiled craftily. “Would feel positively, if job comes with chocolate chips.”

“It could,” she said, grinning. She had some friends who employed bird-sized dragons as messengers, but this was the first time she’d heard of one negotiating its salary for itself. “It certainly could. What’s your name?”

“Peep,” said Peep. “It is self-explanatory.”

“Don’t worry, I got it.”

Peep expressed its doubt that humans ever got anything, but she thought the tiny, prickly creature might be warming up to her.

The day after the battle, Hermione Granger got up before the sun did. The Lake was covered in fog, and she was used to having somewhere urgent to go, to be, to fight. 

She closed the tent flap up behind her. Hogwarts had something like enough beds, but Hermione hadn’t had it in her to climb those moving staircases, to step through the painting’s open frame and make her way to the Gryffindor girls’ seventh year dormitory. Her bed would have been there, months untouched except for the bras and scarves and bottles of sparkly purple nail polish Parvati and Lavender had strewn onto every open surface. 

The fog rolled in off the Lake and Hermione stood at the damp shore and shivered until the sun rose and burned it all away. 


-


The day after the battle, they buried their dead out on an island in the Lake, the day after the battle. Madame Pomfrey fretted and hovered, but every injured witch, wizard, and squib made it out to those conjured chairs. They might sit with assistance– with spells, with braces, with a friend’s shoulder– but they sat quiet and they listened to Flitwick read out the names. 


-


The day after the battle, Ron Weasley stood on tiptoe when he stepped back into the Great Hall, looking over a sea of bent heads to find a cluster of red. They’d brought the tables back. 

The cluster was only a tiny blip of three– Bill and their parents were flitting about, helping Flitwick float steaming bowls of pasta down onto each table. But Ginny and Percy were sitting on either side of George, keeping up a lively conversation about Gilderoy Lockhart’s hair. 

Ginny was sitting half in Harry’s lap, like if she didn’t he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from getting up to help, or to pace the castle, or to walk out to the Forest and not come back. She was holding his hand, her freckled thumb running over the words written into his skin. 

Ron thought about sitting with Luna, instead. Percy tried to laugh at one of Ginny’s jokes, and Ron didn’t know how to be kind like that. Ginny held Harry’s hand. Ron had thought for a long terrible stretch of heartbeats that he had lost two brothers yesterday. 

He could sit with Dean. He could walk out to the Forest and punch Aragog in his ugly eyes, because normally when he walked away from everyone he loved it was because he was scared and maybe change was good for the soul. 

Ron pushed his hands through his hair. He crossed the Great Hall, swung into a seat next to Harry, and filled his plate with lukewarm pasta. 


-


The day after the battle, Luna Lovegood climbed up to the Astronomy Tower, because it was the furthest she could get away from everything. She laid on her back on the cold stone and cast balls of light and enchanted birds to chase each other across the ceiling until she felt like descending down to the ground again. 


-


The day after the battle, Neville Longbottom went down to the greenhouses to see what the damage was there. He had sat all night and all morning in the infirmary, fetching water for Anthony Goldstein and holding Dennis Creevey’s hand and folding extra blankets down over Professor Sprout’s cold feet. Madame Pomfrey had banished him to go get a spot to eat and some sleep, so he walked down to the greenhouses to see what was salvageable. 

Whole panes of greenish glass stood jagged and shattered. Protective spells had put out any fires, but stray blasts of magic had killed beds of vegetables and flowers and taken almost all the silver-green leaves off an olive tree that twisted in the corner of Greenhouse 4. 

Neville went in through the door, even though there as a broken hole in the glass wall big enough for him, and almost fell back through it when Hannah Abbott stood up from the row of pots she’d been crouching behind. Dirt streaked every crease of her hands. “Hey,” he said, and let the door click shut behind him. 

“Hey.” When she saw where he was heading, she added, “The olive’s still alive.”

The bark was rough under his hand, gnarled from decades of slow growth. He could hear the green magic whispering down its xylem. 

“I was thinking I’d try to mend up the walls, close this place up again,” said Hannah. “But I wasn’t sure I could do it alone." 

"Alright,” said Neville. When Professor Sprout argued her way out of the infirmary and thumped downhill with the wind throwing her cloudy hair in her face, she found every pane of glass healed and Neville and Hannah asleep on the softest patch of moss in Greenhouse 2.  


-


The day after the battle, Parvati Patil sent an owl to Lavender Brown’s parents. 


-


The day after the end of it all, Hermione skipped lunch and found her favorite secluded corner of the library instead. The chairs stood silent and sober, all gouged dark wood. The high windows threw light gleaming across the polished table, catching on the dust motes drifting through the air above it. 

She dumped her carry-all down on it and reached inside– up to her elbows, her shoulders. She tried not to feel like it was eating her alive and she pulled out protein bars and unicorn horn and crumpled wanted flyers. 

She wasn’t sure when it had gotten so cluttered– sometime before the night in the ditch outside the little Scottish village with the awesome curry shop. Sometime after the time they hid out from a storm in an unknowing Muggle’s barn, wrinkling their noses at the itch of hay as they ate their dinner. Hermione had taken first watch, listening to the thunder roll over the shallow hills outside, and she’d gone through her bag pouch by endless pouch. Harry had twitched in his sleep with every flash of lightning, but everything in her bag had been where it was supposed to be. 

She summoned a wastepaper bin to hover beside her and got to work. Quills and ballpoint pens went in a neat heap to her left. Books she stacked by subject matter around her, except for the ones she flew back to their homes on Hogwarts shelves. She checked potions ingredients for decay, tossed the bad ones and wrapped the good ones back up in their oiled cloth and ziplock bags. 

She ate a protein bar while she piled duct tape and the radio and a travel-sized magnetic foldable Muggle chess set and a depleted first aid kit all up around her. She threw the wrapper away and wondered if the smell would ever come out of the bag’s insides, or if she should just buy another one.  


-


The day after the battle, they started putting the stones of the castle back into place. They put bones back together, first, skin and knit muscle and tendons. McGonagall escorted every statue and suit of armor back to where it belonged. 

Sue Li sat atop a pile of rubble and ate the biggest chocolate bar she’d ever seen her life. She thought she could still taste a film of Polyjuice on her tongue, but she told herself that was dumb. She dropped little pebbles down the ragged tumble of stones, counting their bounces and calculating averages, until Astoria Greengrass showed up with a glass of water and a pasty and put them down beside her. 

Astoria got her hands dirty every chance she got, put her back into sweeping up glass shards or hauling bandages or Wingardium Leviosa-ing stone blocks the size of a horseless carriage. She would stay in the castle as long as she could, finding odd tasks and errands and corners to lurk in. When she finally went back to the Greengrass family estate, it would be to pack her bags, kiss the old house elf on the cheek, and steal her dog away with her. 


-


The day after the battle, Ron went out to Hagrid’s cabin in the stubborn chill of the afternoon and sat in his pumpkin patch. He didn’t go knock on the rough-hewn door, and Hagrid didn’t come out, but after twenty minutes Fang trotted into the yard and patiently got slobber all over his shirt. 

Ron watched the sway of the shadows beyond the Forest’s edge. Buckbeak’s old tying post stood among the twining squash vines and their giant fuzzy leaves, the metal ring hanging empty against weathered wood. He thought about Ginny brushing her thumb over Harry’s scars and wrapped 
his hands over the pale marks that curled around his wrists. 

When the air started biting and the sky started darkening, Ron pulled himself back to his feet and climbed up to the library. He had never lived there, never really liked its labyrinth of stacks and dusty air, but he knew the way there better than he knew the way to the Quidditch pitch or the Room of Requirement or all those other places he liked so much more. 

It was empty, except for Hermione, and he was glad. She squeezed her last book into her bag and looked up at him, shoving her hair back off her forehead. 

“They doing dinner down there?” she said, her dry throat rasping on it. 

He shrugged. “Mum’s organizing, I think. It– helps, I think." 

She nodded, looking down to do the clasps up slowly, one by one. 

"I just wanted to go back to the tent,” said Ron. “Be alone. It’s quiet." 

"I won’t get in your way,” she said. “It’s still pitched down there." 

"I know,” he said. “With you, I meant.”

“That’s not alone,” she said. “I’m not quiet,” she said. She clasped and unclasped the bag. 

“Words. Accuracy. I never claimed to be the clever one." 

"But you are, Ron–" 

"Hermione,” he said. “Come with me? You shouldn’t be sitting here alone. Come home.”

They went down the grass through chilling air. Ron could hear his mother in his head, telling him to take her bag and carry it for her, but he just reached out for her hand. 


-


The day after the end of it all, Ron laid on the floor of the tent, counting stitches in the canvas, while Hermione read Hogwarts, A History like she didn’t have it memorized. She read her favorite parts aloud, stopping mid-sentence when the tent flap rustled and opened. 

“Ginny’s sitting on Neville until he agrees to sleep in a real bed and not a pile of shrubbery,” Harry said, stepping inside and shutting it up behind him. “She got Luna to help because she says otherwise Luna will just fade into a corner and not come out for food.” He hunched his shoulders. “I’m not intruding, right?" 

"Don’t be daft,” said Ron and patted a bit of floor next to him. “C'mon, join in, Hermione’s trying to bore me to sleep. I suspect it’s an act of caring concern.” Hermione threw a pillow at his head without looking up from the pages.  

The day after the battle, they fell asleep in a tangle in the center of the tent that they had lugged across their country, across these long, cold days of the war. They had danced here to the radio, had chewed protein bars, played chess and bled and yelled at each other. 

But the war was over and they were growing into it, slow, staying up too late as they leaned into each other and whispered on this threadbare rug. They meant to wobble to their feet and get to bed, but Harry was clinging to Hermione’s hand and none of them wanted to go. 

They would get too old for this– hard floors and the way Harry’s neck was cricked up on Ron’s bony shoulder. Hermione’s snoring would get worse and Ron would have to sleep with four carefully arranged pillows to stop his back from aching in the mornings, but Harry would always have a place here. He had slept on Ron’s bedroom floor at fourteen, leaned on Hermione outside his parents’ broken home. 

In the weeks after the battle, Hermione would track down her parents and move back home, and they would all help the Weasleys rebuild the Burrow. Harry would move in Andromeda Tonks’s spare room. “We’re almost like family, after all,” she’d say briskly, shooing him into the house and showing him where she kept the tea, Teddy’s diapers, and the whiskey. They’d come for visits and talk through the night in each of those homes, curled up under Molly’s quilts or out on the Granger’s back porch swing or over fingers of firewhiskey with Andromeda. 

In the months after the war, he and Ron would get a flat while they went through Auror training and Hermione would crash there five nights out of seven. Her university textbooks would take over their countertops, shelves, tables, and floor and Harry wouldn’t tease them (too much) for how hilariously long they tried to pretend it was the couch Hermione slept on. 

Every home Ron and Hermione lived in, for the rest of their lives, would have a place for Harry– a spare room or a patch of floor or an old sofa. He would know how Hermione took her coffee, and his favorite cereal and Ginny’s favorite oatmeal would always been in the cupboard, and their children would have giggly cousin-sleepovers in magical tents they pitched on the living room rug. 

When the kids came shrieking in to wake them at absolutely unacceptable, ugly hours, Ginny would groan curse words they’d repeat gleefully among themselves, but Harry would let them grab his hands in their little sticky ones and pull him barefoot and messy-haired out into the morning.

Side to Side

Pairing: Tom Holland!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Prompts: None

Word Count: 2465

Warning(s): Some swear words, slight smut (Nothing crazy but it goes there)

Requests: I have like 10 followers so like none of you pay attention to me (jk jk you guys are cool)

Song: Side to Side  (duh) by Ariana Grande

Author’s Note: This is kinda crap but I’m totally obsessed with Tom Holland and Spider-Man Homecoming so come on this wild ride and be trash with me! Give me feedback please I promise I’ll get to it in like 10 years

Summary: Reader and Peter (slant rhyme woo) are friends and both on the Avengers. They’re training in the gym and things get s t e a m y…

Keep reading

Internal Conflict:  Five Conflicting Traits of a Likable Hero.

1.  Flaws and Virtues 

I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but characters without flaws are boring.  This does not, as many unfortunate souls take it to mean, imply that good, kind, or benevolent characters are boring:  it just means that without any weaknesses for you to poke at, they tend to be bland-faced wish fulfillment on the part of the author, with a tendency to just sit there without contributing much to the plot.

For any character to be successful, they need to have a proportionate amount of flaws and virtues.

Let’s take a look at Stranger Things, for example, which is practically a smorgasbord of flawed, lovable sweethearts.

We have Joyce Byers, who is strung out and unstable, yet tirelessly works to save her son, even when all conventional logic says he’s dead;  We have Officer Hopper, who is drunken and occasionally callous, yet ultimately is responsible for saving the boy’s life;  We have Jonathan, who is introspective and loving, but occasionally a bit of a creeper, and Nancy, who is outwardly shallow but proves herself to be a strong and determined character.  Even Steve, who would conventionally be the popular jerk who gets his comeuppance, isn’t beyond redemption.

And of course, we have my beloved Eleven, who’s possibly the closest thing Stranger Things has to a “quintessential” heroine.  She’s the show’s most powerful character, as well as one of the most courageous.  However, she is also the show’s largest source of conflict, as it was her powers that released the Demogorgon to begin with.  

Would Eleven be a better character if this had never happened?  Would Stranger Things be a better show?  No, because if this had never happened, Stranger Things wouldn’t even be a show.  Or if it was, it would just be about a bunch of cute kids sitting around and playing Dungeons and Dragons in a relatively peaceful town.

A character’s flaws and mistakes are intended to drive the plotline, and if they didn’t have them, there probably wouldn’t even be a plot.

So don’t be a mouth-breather:  give your good, kind characters some difficult qualities, and give your villains a few sympathetic ones.  Your work will thank you for it.

2.  Charisma and Vulnerability

Supernatural has its flaws, but likable leads are not one of them.  Fans will go to the grave defending their favorite character, consuming and producing more character-driven, fan-created content than most other TV shows’ followings put together.

So how do we inspire this kind of devotion with our own characters?  Well, for starters, let’s take a look at one of Supernatural’s most quintessentially well-liked characters:  Dean Winchester.

From the get-go, we see that Dean has charisma:  he’s confident, cocky, attractive, and skilled at what he does.  But these qualities could just as easily make him annoying and obnoxious if they weren’t counterbalanced with an equal dose of emotional vulnerability. 

As the show progresses, we see that Dean cares deeply about the people around him, particularly his younger brother, to the point of sacrificing himself so that he can live.  He goes through long periods of physical and psychological anguish for his benefit (though by all means, don’t feel obligated to send your main character to Hell for forty years), and the aftermath is depicted in painful detail.

Moreover, in spite of his outward bravado, we learn he doesn’t particularly like himself, doesn’t consider himself worthy of happiness or a fulfilling life, and of course, we have the Single Man Tear™.

So yeah, make your characters beautiful, cocky, sex gods.  Give them swagger.  Just, y’know.  Hurt them in equal measure.  Torture them.  Give them insecurities.  Make them cry.  

Just whatever you do, let them be openly bisexual.  Subtext is so last season.

3.  Goals For the Future and Regrets From the Past

Let’s take a look at Shadow Moon from American Gods.  (For now, I’ll have to be relegate myself to examples from the book, because I haven’t had the chance to watch the amazing looking TV show.) 

Right off the bat, we learn that Shadow has done three years in prison for a crime he may or may not have actually committed.  (We learn later that he actually did commit the crime, but that it was only in response to being wronged by the true perpetrators.)  

He’s still suffering the consequences of his actions when we meet him, and arguably, for the most of the book:  because he’s in prison, his wife has an affair (I still maintain that Laura could have resisted the temptation to be adulterous if she felt like it, but that’s not the issue here) and is killed while mid-coital with his best friend.

Shadow is haunted by this for the rest of the book, to the point at which it bothers him more than the supernatural happenings surrounding him.  

Even before that, the more we learn about Shadow’s past, the more we learn about the challenges he faced:  he was bullied as a child, considered to be “just a big, dumb guy” as an adult, and is still wrongfully pursued for crimes he was only circumstantially involved in.

But these difficulties make the reader empathize with Shadow, and care about what happens to him.  We root for Shadow as he tags along with the mysterious and alternatively peckish and charismatic Wednesday, and as he continuously pursues a means to permanently bring Laura back to life.

He has past traumas, present challenges, and at least one goal that propels him towards the future.  It also helps that he’s three-dimensional, well-written, and as of now, portrayed by an incredibly attractive actor.

Of course (SPOILER ALERT), Shadow never does succeed in fully resurrecting Laura, ultimately allowing her to rest instead, but that doesn’t make the resolution any less satisfying.  

Which leads to my next example…       

4.  Failure and Success 

You remember in Zootopia, when Judy Hopps decides she wants to be cop and her family and town immediately and unanimously endorse her efforts?  Or hey, do you remember Harry Potter’s idyllic childhood with his kindhearted, adoptive family?  Oh!  Or in the X-Files, when Agent Mulder presents overwhelming evidence of extraterrestrial life in the first episode and is immediately given a promotion?  No?

Yeah, me neither.  And there’s a reason for this:  ff your hero gets what they want the entire time, it will be a boring, two-dimensional fantasy that no one will want to read.  

A good story is not about the character getting what they want.  A good story is about the character’s efforts and their journey.  The destination they reach could be something far removed from what they originally thought they wanted, and could be no less (if not more so) satisfying because of it.

Let’s look at Toy Story 3, for example:  throughout the entire movie, Woody’s goal is to get his friends back to their longtime owner, Andy, so that they can accompany him to college.  He fails miserably.  None of his friends believe that Andy was trying to put them in the attic, insisting that his intent was to throw them away.  He is briefly separated from them as he is usurped by a cute little girl and his friends are left at a tyrannical daycare center, but with time and effort, they’re reunited, Woody is proven right, and things seem to be back on track.

Do his efforts pay off?  Yes – just not in the way he expected them to.  At the end of the movie, a college-bound Andy gives the toys away to a new owner who will play with them more than he will, and they say goodbye.  Is the payoff bittersweet?  Undoubtedly.  It made me cry like a little bitch in front of my young siblings.  But it’s also undoubtedly satisfying.      

So let your characters struggle.  Let them fail.  And let them not always get what they want, so long as they get what they need.  

5.  Loving and Being Loved by Others

Take a look back at this list, and all the characters on it:  a gaggle of small town kids and flawed adults, demon-busting underwear models, an ex-con and his dead wife, and a bunch of sentient toys.  What do they have in common?  Aside from the fact that they’re all well-loved heroes of their own stories, not much.

But one common element they all share is they all have people they care about, and in turn, have people who care about them.  

This allows readers and viewers to empathize with them possibly more than any of the other qualities I’ve listed thus far, as none of it means anything without the simple demonstration of human connection.

Let’s take a look at everyone’s favorite caped crusader, for example:  Batman in the cartoons and the comics is an easy to love character, whereas in the most recent movies (excluding the splendid Lego Batman Movie), not so much. 

Why is this?  In all adaptions, he’s the same mentally unstable, traumatized genius in a bat suit.  In all adaptions, he demonstrates all the qualities I listed before this:  he has flaws and virtues, charisma and vulnerability, regrets from the past and goals for the future, and usually proportionate amounts of failure and success.  

What makes the animated and comic book version so much more attractive than his big screen counterpart is the fact that he does one thing right that all live action adaptions is that he has connections and emotional dependencies on other people.  

He’s unabashed in caring for Alfred, Batgirl, and all the Robins, and yes, he extends compassion and sympathy to the villains as well, helping Harley Quinn to ultimately escape a toxic and abusive relationship, consoling Baby Doll, and staying with a child psychic with godlike powers until she died.

Cartoon Batman is not afraid to care about others.  He has a support network of people who care about him, and that’s his greatest strength.  The DC CU’s ever darker, grittier, and more isolated borderline sociopath is failing because he lacks these things.  

 And it’s also one of the reasons that the Lego Batman Movie remains so awesome.


God willing, I will be publishing fresh writing tips every week, so be sure to follow my blog and stay tuned for future advice and observations! 

A Finite Amount of Love

The first time Rose did it, it was out of ignorance.

The second was desperation.

The third time she did not do it. If she had, it would have been purely malicious.

She resisted it the fourth time too, and the fifth, the sixth and the seventh. 

The eighth time she never got the choice: she died first.

The first, though—the first was Adam. An eager and honest bucktooth man with blond hair in ringlets that reminded Rose just a bit of her own. Adam was the first human Rose fell in love with, and it was different. It wasn’t her normal human love, that soft and gentle maternal kind. This love was bubbly and effervescent. It was walks alone just the two of them that felt giddy and new and anxious eager jolts in her mind of touching his skin and investigating his lips and getting close, close like humans do, in a way that wasn’t fusion.

And 58 was far too young an age, Rose thought, for Adam to fade. He burst out in sores that corrupted his human form and could not heal, would not heal, and no human could save him. So Rose did. Adam died, and Rose shed just enough tears to bring him back into existence.

Things didn’t change all at once. For years nothing was different than the novelty of Adam’s ringleted hair truly matching Rose’s. But humans experience the passing of decades different from Gems. Adam grew solemn when all his friends died. He made new ones. Then 50 years later, they all died as well.

Adam’s body remained healthy. But it seemed the human mind wasn’t equipped for centuries of life. Maybe humans had a finite amount of love packaged into them, meant to well up from the soul for 70 or 80 years at most. Adam ran out of love. He packed his things, just a single bag on his shoulder, and he told Rose he would leave forever.

Rose let him go, but her heart still broke, because Gems work on a much larger time scale.

Samuel was the next man in her life, a mere 30 years later, and he was spry, bubbly, energetic, overflowing with a sort of giddy love that Rose felt would last and last. She swept him up in her arms and spun with him on the briny beach front, her bare feet molding in the sand as they swirled and danced, day after day, year after year. She and Samuel married, as was a custom among Samuel’s kind, and he gathered a batch of humans larger than Rose had seen since the victory against Homeworld.

Samuel turned 75 faster than Rose could measure. He was gray and worn, thin and knotted at the joints, senile and immobile when Rose still wanted to dance with him on the beach. He did not wake up one morning, and it was too soon for Rose. She wept, honest heavy wet tears that poured the life back into a husk that dried too soon.

Samuel lasted another 75 years after that. But he burned down, slower than Adam but still the same. His human light died. He wept too hard for his family and friends, for the children of his first marriage and his children’s children, and their children… He grew solemn, and cold, and inconsolable, and one day he told Rose he wanted to explore the ocean with his infinite age. Alone. Without her. His human love had burnt itself to the wick.

The heartache hit worse. Rose gave her hand and heart and time to no other man for decades. Not the curious sailors who came hat-in-hand to the Temple. Not the outcast townsfolk who came to investigate the myths of the magical women out by the briny shore. She waited, and waited, until that ache in her chest grew too heavy, and she let a young and spindly man named Wilson woo her. He took her out to sea on a rickety hand-crafted boat, and he pointed out the wonders of the vast sea to her, and Rose wondered silently if ever they might cross Samuel’s path.

Wilson grew old when Rose was not paying attention. She went to visit him one day, and found only a sickly man curled up in bed, breathing in wheezes, blinking through milky eyes. Garnet found her that evening, Garnet with the ability to see the paths laid out ahead of her. She warned Rose not to follow through this time, and Rose did not. And Wilson died.

Mark with the thick orange brows was slowly whittled down to thin scraggly gray hairs, like fuzzy caterpillars resting on his lip and brow the day he died. Seth had only hit 30 when his carriage was lost off the side of the road in a blizzard, his body found days after. Wallace made it to 76. Jeremy to 64…

When she met Greg, Rose reached a selfish conclusion. She would be the human this time. She would be the human wife that Adam, Samuel, Wilson, Seth, Mark, Wallace, Jeremy never had…she would be the one to give him a child.

And she would die first this time.

The other men had seemed so peaceful when they passed, Rose thought in hindsight. A life well-lived. A life fulfilled. Not like Adam, not like Samuel, whittled down to husks and then nothing but a puppet on strings, in a body strewn about, too spent and stressed for a human. She wanted to know that peace of a life lived to its end. She wanted to pass on her chance of experiencing the world to a new human, a new generation, like all humans were so happy to do.

Rose died first. Steven lived on.

Lars has not visited Beach City in centuries. Pearl, Garnet, and Amethyst still live there, he knows that, but he never knew them well. He never properly met the green and blue ones either.

He travels sometimes. Mostly he lingers. Wherever he ends up. It’s all a blur. Where he’s been and where he’s going. Just not Beach City. He’s visited those old homes too many times, and he saw them all demolished over time. Nothing’s left for him there.

Lars does not quite know where he is. He does not particularly care. It’s indoors, and dim, and a man is logging orders on a holographic tablet one table over. It’s a restaurant of sorts. Lars doesn’t need to eat, but if he orders a coffee, they will probably let him linger longer.

Lars stares out the window. He does that often. He’s run out of other things to do over the years. He’s gotten numb to most of it.

A shadow of a man slides into the booth with Lars. He takes the space on the opposite side of the table. He’s wearing a rain poncho, a thin and ultra-light orange material for maximum hydrophobic effect. He looks old, eyes lined with wrinkles beneath the hood. Lars swallows the urge to ask him what he wants as the man lowers the hood.

His hair cascades in ringlets, each the same pale and luminous pink as the hair on Lars’ head.

He sticks a hand out, and offers a thin smile that doesn’t quite touch his eyes.

“I’m Adam. I noticed your hair from the other side of the bar. Sorry to intrude, but could we talk a moment…?”

Viral

Summary: The Ladyblog catches a private moment and Marinette is furious.

This story can also be found on FF.net and AO3.

The video was uploaded sometime after midnight early Saturday morning.  

As was usually the case after an akuma attack, Alya Cesaire had been running on a caffeine rush and adrenaline high that made sleep impossible.  The dedicated blogger would not see the back of her eyes until her copy was written, her files rendered, and her newest masterpiece was live for the entire world to see.

Or at least the majority of Paris.  She was young yet.

Fortunately for the aspiring journalist, the Ladyblog’s wide and devoted readership ensured that the hits would rack up quickly regardless of the time of posting.

What no one could have anticipated, however, was just how quickly.

It started with the local news.

Nadja Chamack’s bright-eyed good morning Paris grin punctuated the more somber news of floods, akumas, and politics with the light-hearted clip.  The segment usually reserved for heartwarming fluff pieces about eye-seeing dogs and neighborhood bake sales was instead taken over by the city’s most reliable ratings machine.

Ladybug and Chat Noir were television gold.

From there the clip hit the major news networks and was being broadcast to the whole of France. Then came the talk shows, the copycat blogs, the online articles, Buzzfeed, and more.  When the video hit the front page of Reddit there was no stopping the infection.

By the time Monday morning rolled around, less than three days after the akuma attack and the video going live, Chat Noir had become the laughing stock of Paris, the Internet, and the world.

And Marinette Dupain-Cheng was absolutely furious.

Keep reading

So, the time has come where I have decided to share my hidden Nashcon 2016 Cockles photo op with everyone.

Why did I wait so long? Because I told myself, as a silent promise to Jensen and Misha, I was going to wait one year from the day, before I share it, even though Misha said to share it initially. Haha. Anyway, it’s been four months past the year mark, and I have decided to finally unveil the photo, I know it might garnish some stuff from haters, and I might be called “disrespectful”, however I ask everyone to read below first, on how my situation went down with receiving the photo, and then cast your opinions.

 So, I am waiting in the photo op line nervous as all hell haha, I keep the front of the book hidden the entire time, just patiently and nervously waiting. The book I held in my hands was “The Threesome Handbook”, by Vicki Vantoch (For those who don’t know who she is, she’s the amazing woman married to Misha!!). I’ve had the idea in my mind for nearly a year on how funny it would be to take a photo of the three of us reading it, I could imagine Jensen’s “what the hell position is that?!” Face, I can imagine Misha’s mischevious intrigued face, and then I would just be there looking like a dork, haha, either way, it was a year’s idea in the making. So the time has come and here i am shaking with my book…When it is my turn…I walk up to them…I immediately went to Jensen first because above anyone else, I wanted to get his Blessing for the photo, I didn’t want him to do it if he was not comfortable with it, and I was perfectly fine if he would have declined…So, I’m right in front of Jensen and I say “I completely understand if you don’t want to do this but, if not, it’s okay, but can we do something with this?” I showed him the book Misha’s wife wrote “The Threesome Handbook”, and he was like “With this?” He replied with like a shocked laugh as he pointed at the book, I laughed a bit in embarrassment…Then at this moment Misha comes over to the two of us, he sees the book and giggles as he grabs it, Misha being amused at the sight of the book, all I could do is look on in embarrassment and nervously laugh. At this point however, Jensen’s handler came up right away and was like “ Nope. No. No.” And she snatched the book out of Misha’s hand. So he was like “Oh Well” with a shrug kinda look then I was like “Oh well”, I knew at that point it was the risk of asking, so I didn’t mind. So I turned to Misha and Jensen and was like “Hugs then?” So we did a hug picture. The bliss and awesomeness of being between those two, still sends shivers down my spine. Forgive the capital letters but this was the exciting part…after the picture I THEN HUGGED THEM BOTH AND SAID THANK YOU, THEN THE HANDLER GAVE THE BOOK BACK TO ME. I WAS READY TO WALK AWAY WHEN MISHA GRABBED MY HAND, PULLED ME CLOSE TO HIM AND TOLD THE PHOTOGRAPHER TO TAKE ANOTHER. SO MISHA HUGGED ME WHILE WE HELD THE BOOK AND JENSEN GAVE HIS LIKE “WHAT?!” FACE. I WAS IN SHOCK!!!! SO ALL I HAD ENOUGH REACTION TIME FOR WAS TO MAKE A DORKY LOOKING “Idk, worth a shot” SUGGESTIVE FACE.


It happened so quick…I was not expecting it at all…After the picture all I could do was happily give Misha another hug, and just mutter “Thank you thank Misha”, I gave Jensen one more quick one and kinda high tailed it out of the room shaking.

Now…I was absolutely happy, and just speechless, I had two ops, the op I wanted to do, and I spent more time with them. The thing is though…After some time…I felt bad…because I wasn’t sure if Jensen was upset…or kinda just disappointed, because I felt maybe he didn’t want to do it and it was forced, as much as I appreciate it…To confirm, I decided to apologise to him when I got my autograph…The stressful part of it all, was the timing…See…I had to wait for the pictures to print, I wanted to grab it right away because I know sometimes people take photos of other people’s pictures, and I didn’t want this to get out by someone else’s hand. The thing is Jensen was then signing autographs in the same time…So, I was pacing back and forth from the picture table and the autograph hall to see how the lines were, just as it seemed like autographs were almost over, as they called my row many minutes before, the pictures were put out. LUCKILY I received my picture and I was able to make the line for Jensen, photo hidden. So again I nervously wait in line, when I got to him in line, he recognized me and said “Hey you” and smiled, and of course I was like “Hi” *giggles* and then I said “Jensen I’m really sorry about the book photo op”. He smiled and was like “ah, it’s no problem at all” And I said “Okay I just wanted to make sure you know I didn’t mean anything bad by it” and he said “Don’t worry about it, it’s perfectly fine”. I apologized to his handler also and she said “ Its okay honey, I’m not mad about it” and they both said you have a good night and pretty much don’t worry. So *SIGH OF RELIEF*

Got my autograph and his Blessing!! However me being me, I wanted security…So…To Make sure…When I got my Misha autograph, I walk up to Misha with items in hand to get signed.


Misha: “Oh hey it’s you, how are you?”


Me: “I’m good thank you, how are you?”


Misha: “I’m good, I’m good, are you having fun?


Me: “Yeah, it’s been really great”


*Misha begins to sign my items*


Me: *Nervously* “Can I ask you a question?”


Misha: “Of course go ahead”


Me: “Was Jensen upset with the photo with the book?”


Misha: *smiles, then giggles* “Oh no, he wasn’t upset at all. He would have gone through with it if a certain handler didn’t snatch it away from us”


Me: “Are you sure? I really don’t want him to be upset, I just didn’t think it’d be bad”


Misha: “No, don’t worry about it at all, he wasn’t upset” *Misha hands back items*


Me: “Okay, thank you Misha, thank you. You have a great night” *I say while gathering my stuff*


Misha: “You’re welcome. You too” *Misha smiles*


*I turn to walk away when Misha says to me*


Misha: “Don’t give it a second thought”


I respond by just smiling and saying a relieved “Okay”, and then I turn and head out to the hall.

So…This is that photo, from my amazing Nashcon 2016 time…I hope those viewing, find the humor in it as much as I do…If you’re gonna share it, please just attach this story with it, so people know, that yes while some might find it tasteless, it was done with a calculated understanding of the actor’s feelings behind taking the photo and not without asking their personal consent for it first, the events that unfolded from it, were not expected and were out of my hands, just as well I finally want to thank Misha and Jensen and just as well, Jared!! (Though they may not ever read this haha) for everything they’re do for the fans, it was a great time and is now a hell of a story I can add to my life of events. Everyone else…enjoy. :)


AO3 DragonKitten22
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transcript of the speech i gave at Vassar’s black baccalaureate service

Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, honored guests, and the Vassar class of 2017.
Just saying that aloud made me feel old. Class of 2017? Most of y'all were born after dark-skinned Aunt Viv left the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. That’s wild.

I want to first thank you for allowing me to be a part of such a special moment in your lives. I am honored, privileged, and a bit in disbelief that you asked me of all people to give this address. I try not to have feelings, and I’m going to do my best not to cry today, but no promises.

I’m here to stand in the gap between you and your parents and guardians and any other elders in your lives that you stopped listening to because you thought they were wack and out of touch. I remember being in your shoes not TOO long ago, and it is my fervent prayer that something that I say here today will help you avoid some of the mess I went through.
To be honest I’m a little nervous, but I figured there was no way could this be worse than when Betsy DeVos went down to Bethune-Cookman, so let’s get started.

As you transition to life after Vassar the changes will be both inevitable and swift, so I’d like to begin by giving you some well-intentioned advice and warning you about the continued process of becoming an adult.

Keep reading

Inner Vixen

Warnings: SMUT (Ages 18+)

 

Summary: You’re fed up with being the blushing, shy girl, usually too insecure to return any of Bucky’s flirtatious advances. But with a little help from liquid courage, your inner vixen makes an appearance.

 

Word Count: 3.6k

“Barnes. 6 o’clock.” Natasha whispered keeping her eyes focused on you standing right beside her at the bar. Tony’s latest rager had started approximately an hour ago and, though you would never admit to nervously awaiting his arrival, she noticed your eyes lingering on the entrance every now and again.

Keep reading

Singapore Sling

Pairing: Harry Styles X Reader

Rating: NC-17

Character count: 35,696 / Word Count: 6,521

Your duties as maid of honour were fairly simple: maximise alcohol and minimise stress, keep an eye on the bride-to-be, and above all else, have things under control. You’ve promised yourself to keep this wedding a fuckup-free zone, anticipating smooth sailing from the moment you land in Antigua. When danger emerges on the horizon in the form of a denim-clad devil dressed in Gucci and gold, things take a turn—nothing in the MOH handbook has prepared you for what to do in the event that you unwittingly sleep with the best man.

Keep reading

Dating Peter Parker Headcannons

these are really long and i didnt even write down every thing that i wanted to so i might do a part two just bc i love my son :’)

  • it all started when y’all got paired up for chem to do a lab
  • because practically the whole school knows of his crush on Liz Allen, you didn’t think you had a chance with him
  • but you could NOT have been more wrong
  • he was so nervous to go to the next class because he knew that he would actually have to communicate with you… for more than three seconds  
  • as soon as he walks in and sees you staring to set everything up he kind of like *dies*
  • hE iS So NeRvoUs
  • hands shaking
  • uneven breathing
  • and u just kind of look @ him like wtf dude calm down
  • he would try and talk but it was mainly him stuttering
  • but you found him sosossoosos cute (bc he’s my son obvi he’s a qt)
  • after ( to him ) being put through the most stressful time of his life, more stressful than fighting criminals as spiderman
  • he asks you if you want to go and get a sandwich with him after school
  • and thats kind of how everything started
  • studydatesstudaydatesstudydates
  • ned either being annoyed with you two bc third wheeling or having the time of his life bc you guys are #besties
  • michelle always having something to say about u and peter
  • like; gross, ew, y/n how do u hold your breath the whole time u and peter are making out
  • “peter, baby, can you please take it down five notches”
  • (“y/n), BaBY, cAn YOU tAkE IT dOwN FiVe notCHes”
  • aLwAYs tOuChiNg YoU
  • holding hands
  • arm around your shoulders
  • standing behind u and head on your head & arms around your waist
  • never ending amount of little kisses
  • peter finding u the legit cutest thing on this planet
  • his ‘creative’ way of telling you he is spiderman was picking you up for a date by swinging into your open window and then swinging you across new york
  • you almost passed out because heights but u knew that he would never let go of you
  • YOU WOULD GET TO MEND HIM AFTER FIGHTS AND STUFF
  • AND HES ALL WEAK AND SMILELY BC FEWYUBSIHJVV
  • and you’re the luckiest girl ever bc you’re the reason that he’s smiling all the time
  • u can bet your bottom dollar he would write love letters to u - ok maybe he wouldn’t like give them to u but he would defffinetly write them ok
  • may can always tell when peters talking to on the phone or y’all just hung out bc he’s skipping around the house with the widest smile & his eyes are sparkling
  • you beg for 4 weeks strait for him to let you try on the suit but “mr. stark said its not for anyone else baby.”
  • omg the amount of pet names for u; baby, babe, angel, darling, the first letter of your name, my love, and when he’s clingy;;babbbbyyyyyyyy
  • when you’re giving him the silent treatment he will give u puppy dog eyes, sit on you, and be super clingy
  • when he’s upset you’re the big spoon
  • GOD HES SO CLINGY THO LIKE IN GENERAL
  • but he’s not that big on pda
  • but he wants to be the big spoon 9/10 times bc he’s spiderMAN
  • asking u to homecoming
  • heart thumping so loud when y’all are slow dancing you can feel it so u put your head against his chest
  • HE ALMOST DIES WHEN YOU FALL ASLEEP ON HIM FOR THE FIRST TIME
  • bc you’re so angelic and look so peaceful and he cannot deal w it
  • he’s in constant awe of u if u weren’t already expecting that
  • telling happy about u all. the. time.
  • so when tony meets you, he has a proud dad attitude going on
  • ugh god peter wanted u to say the three words first
  • but one day when you were having a pillow fight or doing something else childish (idk) and it just kind of comes out when you’re laying on the sheets and your hair is all poofy and his is a little messy and you have the biggest smile and he had to close his eyes when he said it because he didn’t know what your reaction would be
  • and when he felt your hand on his cheek, he swore that he 1. never let out a bigger sigh of relief before 2. and never seen u smile so wide
  • and when u said it, he almost asked to leave the room because he was so elated
  • may absolutely adores u probs more than peter does
  • because she’s never had a daughter and she thinks you and peter should get married early ( she’s like 50/50 kidding&being dead serious ) bc she is CONVINCED that you are the best that he will eeveerrrrrrr do
  • probs the type of bf to act all tough and protective but will just stare the shit out of the asshole who steps a little to close for comfort
  • but lordy he just loves u and will protect u with his life
  • because you are his world and he is yours

Originally posted by tomshollandss

KURO WEEK - DAY 6: Mind Control

So… this turned out to be quite long again, but I don’t care. I had so much fun doing this :3


Kuro

Pressure. There had been pressure at the back of his head lately. It felt like something was pushing against his mind, trying to coax Kuro into letting it in.

At first he’d thought this was another terrible experiment, another sick joke the Druids were pulling to make him break and give up what little humanity he’d regained since Shiro was there with him. Their mind-tricks and brainwashing methods were the worst ones. But that idea was discarded quickly…  Because it didn’t feel cruel or malicious. It didn’t feel as cold and intrusive as Druid magic would. It was just… there. Warm and constant, but never demanding.

Shiro felt it to. If his searching gaze and withdrawn behaviour was anything to go by. Sometimes Kuro swore he saw something like recognition flit over those painfully familiar features. But as fast as it came, it faded again. Weighed down by the pure awareness of just where they were.

Kuro never asked about it.

Until that one day… the day the Druids let them see their newest creation.

___

 Keith

There was nothing he could do but wait. And that’s exactly what he did. Everyday, every single minute he didn’t spend on saving planet after planet - saving lives. Every. Fucking. Second.

He’d sit and wait. Sit and wait.

Some days he went mad with impatience. He had a feeling that time was running out for both of them, him and Shiro. And all he could do was sit in Black’s cockpit and concentrate. On what? He had no idea. It hadn’t been his idea in the first place. But Black had insisted on trying to get a hold of Shiro through their bond.

But sitting in his place, in his lion, playing his role as the leader of Voltron didn’t help Keith concentrate at all. It just made him more restless.

Still, Black insisted. Because she loved Shiro… And she knew Keith did, too. She had known it all along.

So they both sat in the Black Lion’s hangar and listened; reached out into the endless nothingness of space, trying to feel the familiar warmth of the Black Paladin’s soul. Keith had no idea how this was supposed to work - but he guessed it had something to do with Lion magic. Black had tried to explain it to him once… she had tried to explain that she, because of her own bond with Shiro, worked like an amplifier to the connection Keith and Shiro shared. She even tried to tell him something about two beings made from the same quintessence and fate and all that stuff, but Keith hadn’t even been listening at that point. All he knew was, that he wanted Shiro back. And he would do anything to find him.

The moment it had worked, the moment he felt the other Paladin’s presence emerge from the darkest depth of the universe, had him almost fainting with relief and joy. Shiro was alive. Above all the white noise and static of space, Keith could still feel him, like a signature his soul had left behind, and hold onto that. He was alive. And Keith would find him.

All he had to do was work with Black to establish a proper connection to Shiro, to get a grasp on him, and then find out where he was.

Well… easier said than done.

For there was something else. Something that distracted Keith time and time again. There was a presence, another signature the Black Lion could follow - could connect to in a way. It looked - or rather felt - like a faded, almost washed-out version of Shiro’s soul. If he’d have to describe it, he’d say it felt like looking at two different hues of the same color.

Keith didn’t pay much attention to it…

Until the day Shiro’s signature went silent. Still there, but unresponsive and still. Shutting them out. The only thing Keith could definitely feel was dread

That’s when he knew their time was up.

___

Kuro

They’d let them see. Because they knew how much it would affect Shiro. They knew it would break him. Make him give up all hope.

The Druids had showed them their newest monster. A giant made of steel and wires. Just for Shiro. This would be his final transformation. He’d become machinery - heart and soul. A robeast.

It had been his very first time witnessing a panic attack from up close… and it almost choked Kuro himself. There was just so much a human being could take. And Shiro had reached a point where he could take no more. All Kuro could see in the other man’s face was fear. Pure, all-consuming fear.

He’d die. He’d die. He’d die. HE’D DIE. Shiro would die. He knew it.

All Kuro could do was sit and watch with growing concern for his new-found friend. What should he do? How could he help Shiro? How could they get out of this alive?

He needed to save Shiro from this kind of fate. Because Shiro deserved it. He deserved to live.

During their shared time in captivity, the Galra-hybrid had grown quite fond of the not-so-monstrous Champion. Shiro was… well. Shiro was the closest thing Kuro had to family. There HAD to be a way for them to get out of this.

Shiro sat, huddled up into the far corner of their cell, shivering and breathing way too fast for Kuro’s liking. No words had been spoken since they’d seen the robeast in its hangar. Shiro had been eerily silent the whole trip back to their cell.

Come on, come ON!, he thought, wracking his brain for a solution. For a way out. There has to be something. Just SOMETHING!

Kuro didn’t notice the pressure in the back of his head growing… until it was too late.

Something pulled at the seams of his mind, something big and dark - but not evil. If he concentrated enough, he could feel the presence embrace him, encircle him with warm darkness.

Let me in.

… what?

Let me in, a deep voice repeated. He’d never heard it before… But still it sounded… familiar. Warm and thick like honey. He couldn’t tell whether it was a woman or a man speaking. It sounded…beyond physical manifestation; beyond the universe itself.

We will help you.

Alright, Kuro thought, now wasn’t the time to talk to voices inside your head. He had to find a way out of here. It was only a tad bit alarming, that voices, no one else seemed to hear, didn’t really faze him anymore. There had been worse, he told himself.

Who was “we” anyway?

Me and Keith, the voice provided.

Wait a second…. Keith? THE Keith? As in “Red Paladin Keith”? Keith from Earth? The Keith Shiro wouldn’t stop talking about?

The presence gave an affirming nudge, because yes, they were talking about the same person. Holy shit.

But why? How? He had so many questions. But for now only one was important:

Can you get us out of here?

A heartbeat.

Then another.

… Yes.

Relief flooded his very being. Good. This was- good. But they didn’t have much time. They had no idea when the guards would come to take Shiro. It could be any moment now.

You’ll need to hurry, Kuro thought, trying to dig everything he’d seen in that hangar up from his mind. You need to-

We know. We’re already on our way.

We’ll try to get your way, then.

Can you do us a favor, first?

Kuro hesitated. The soft pressure at the back of his head had spread over the past few minutes. Whatever they were, whatever kind of magical shit their saviors-to-be were pulling… It had spread over his body. Like something tried to squeeze into his body, beside his own mind.

What kind of favor?

Let him talk to Shiro.

Him? Keith?

Yes.

How?

You’ll see.

I don’t think I-

Please.

… This was crazy. This was so, so crazy. But was there anything left for him to lose? If this was a trap, would it really matter? Taking a look at Shiro, who still sat on the ground, shaking like a leaf and staring absently ahead without really seeing, Kuro decided it was worth a shot. Or his mind, to be more precise.

Fine.

He hadn’t finished that thought, when it already hit him. Red hot and blazing like a dying star; like a burning arrow shot right through his very core. Melting him, burning him… filling up the frayed ends of his mind, where the arena and the labs had taken pieces of him. Until he was whole again. Better than whole. He was more.

He could feel the blazing presence, the very soul of the Red Paladin melt into him and take control of what was his. His thoughts, his feelings, his body. And Kuro let him.

For he could feel everything the Paladin poured into his being. Desperation, sorrow, longing, love. A love that burned brighter than a supernova. Kuro could feel it sear his chest, his throat, his mouth on its way up. He could feel it pressing against his jaws, forcing them to open; his mind already giving the order to speak - without him realizing it. His mind wasn’t his anymore. But he didn’t care.

“S-Shiro?”, even his voice sounded off. A bit high-pitched, less guttural. “Shiro? Are you there?”

The former Champion froze. Wide eyes darted towards him, disbelieve written all over his face. It took him a few seconds to realize what - or better who- he’d just heard. Kuro could tell the exact moment it hit him.

“…. Keith?”

“Yeah”, the strange voice spoke again. The words felt fuzzy and alien on his tongue. “We’re on our way. Just hang on.”

___

Yay I finall made it :D @kuroweek sorry for the delay!

Cinderella

Summary: After waking up in the morning finding out you had a one night stand with someone you don’t even know…you rush out as quickly as possible…too bad you forgot your cell phone.

Pairing: Jeon Jeong-guk (Jungkook) / Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 2k

A/N: extremely Mature rating

Part 2 | Part 3Masterlist


“How do I look?” You asked your best friends.

“Gorgeous.” They said at the same time. You settled on a simple black dress, that hugged your curves beautifully.

“And here.” Your friend Lalisa got up and scrunched up your long hair with her fingers. “Guys like messy.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” It wasn’t your idea to go out in the first place. Your friends thought it would make you feel better, help you move on from your tragic breakup that ended a month ago and you happen to still be hung up on.

Illhoon was the best thing that has ever happened to you and being together for three years, things just weren’t working out. You were always fighting, he was always busy, and you haven’t been sexually active in months. He was always loyal to you, too loyal that he broke things off. He felt bad that he couldn’t give you the love you deserve. He just wasn’t happy, which you respected.

Now your pain in the ass friends were trying to set you up.

“Okay….lets go.” Lalisa marched out and Rosé gave you an apologetic look.

“It will be fun, don’t worry.” She told you.

-

When you got to the club it was surprisingly not that crowded. Which was a relief. “Lets get some fuel.” Lalisa started walking towards the bar.

6 shots later you were starting to get buzzed that you decided to slow down on a casual drink. “Hey.” You looked up following the voice. “Do you see that hot guy over there.” Lalisa pointed with her eyes.

You started to look. “Hey don’t be obvious.” She alerted you.

“Sorry.” You snorted. Maybe the alcohol had kicked in more then you thought.

You slightly looked over, pretending to not be obvious. You saw more then one hot guy, to be honest, but one got your heart racing.

He had dark hair and a killer smile. Possibly one of the most handsome guy you have ever seen. Not counting Illhoon. Shit! You weren’t suppose to be talking about him.

“Go over there and talk to him.” Lalisa pressured you.

“Unless it’s too soon.” Rosé debated.

“No it’s the perfect opportunity….its been long enough…you need to put yourself back out there.” Lalisa argued.

“I’m going over there.” Lalisa stood up. “I’m going to introduce him to you and then I’m going to take his hot friend with the dimples.” Then she stormed off.

As you saw her talking you decided to take about 3 more shots, you were too sober for this.

You saw the guy smile in your direction. “Lalisa always wins.” Rosé said and got up to walk over to one of the other guys.

You were left drinking alone. You didn’t want to act like you were desperate and you weren’t, you wanted to take it at a slow level.

You were slightly drunk that you almost thought the hot guy was walking over.

“Hi.” Oh, it’s real. “I’m Jungkook.” He reached his hand out to you.

“Hi.” You blushed as you stood up, accepting his handshake. “I’m (Y/N).”

“Your friend over there gave a pretty good word for you.”

“What did she say?” You nervously asked.

“She said that I’m an idiot if I don’t talk to you because you are the hottest thing that has ever hit this club.”

You slapped you forehead amused. “I’m so sorry about her.”

“I wouldn’t disagree.” You looked at his sweet smile and blushed.

Your friends were right, you need to let lose, have fun. “Let’s go dance.” You pulled his hand, leading him to the dance floor.

The alcohol took over as you reached the dance floor. You just wanted to have a good time. You felt Jungkook’s hands wrap around your waist as you grinded your hips with his. Your back was rubbing against his chest as you danced in motion.

A few drinks later and a few sexual dances later the rest of the night was all a blur. You knew you wouldn’t remember anything in the morning. You couldn’t remember the fact that you shared an intense kiss.

The second that your lips aligned with his, you were hungry for more. You felt connected with him, but you knew better then to trust the alcohol.

And this case you did. “Do you want to get out of here?” You whispered in his ear.

“Yeah.” Then you don’t even remember getting to his apartment but you got there. As soon as you both tumbled into the door you jumped up wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you to his bedroom.

He moved down to your neck as soon as your back hit the bed sheets. The sexual tension from each wet kiss had you feeling soaked between your legs.

You heard your phone ring on the table beside you. You couldn’t read the name from your blurry vision, so you tossed it instead.

Jungkook made his way back up to your lips as you felt up the front of his jeans. You attempted to unbutton his belt along with his pants. His hand found itself kneading your chest. You couldn’t help but moan, it’s been a while since you have been touched like this.

You slid your hand underneath his boxers, touching up his sensitive area. The area was tight from his hard-on.

You flipped you both over so you can pull down your dress, leaving you in your bra and underwear. You finished pulling down his pants, exposing his length. Wow. Again, the alcohol bringing out the sweet girl you tried to convince yourself to be.

You grabbed his length kissing the red tip. You loved the sound that escaped his mouth as you started to lick down his area. You couldn’t help but smirk from the thought that you were in control. You made your way back up to the tip leaning your head down to take him fully into your mouth. You bobbed your head up and down sucking every inch of his throbbing member.

You sat back up letting go of him you didn’t want him to take all the fun. You wrapped your arms around your back to unhook your bra and then you slid your underwear off sexually.

He sat up looking at you with desire in his eyes. You bit your lip as you watched him take off his clothes. He was extremely fit. You slid yourself down onto him, surprised by the sudden pain.

You rocked your hips back and forth taking in the pleasure that you desperately needed. You moaned as he worked against you. He grabbed a hold of your hips moving you quicker then you can handle.

You screeched in surprise when he flipped you both over as he took control. He lifted your right leg up onto his left shoulder to deepen the angle. You loved how attractive he was even though he was sweaty.

You felt your toes go numb as your orgasm immerse throughout your body. You squeezed your eyes shut trying to pass through the feeling. Jungkook’s pace slowed down immensely as you felt him jerk his liquid into you. He kissed you passionately before he collapsed on the bed next to you. After that you let the sleep get a hold of you.

-

Your eyes fluttered open as the killer headache flooded your skull. You yawned sitting up when you realized you didn’t recognize the room. You took in your surroundings as yours eyes drifted off to the sleeping beauty next to you. The last thing you remember was dancing with him. Oh shit! What have you done?

You slowly got up trying not to wake what’s his name. Jungkook? You tried to remember. As soon as your feet hit the floor you reached for your underwear and dress. You grabbed your heels, tip toeing your way out of his room. Damn he was beautiful but one night stands are always awkward, that’s why it’s best to sneak out.

On your way out you saw a sweater pulled over a chair. You know you shouldn’t but you took it to at least to save your dignity. When you made your way onto the streets it was way too familiar. This was your street. You only had to walk down a few blocks to reach your apartment. The sweater covering you didn’t have an affect, people still stared at you. Judging you.

When you got home your roommate was in the kitchen.

“Oh my god there you are.” Rosé panicked. “I tried calling you.”

You stopped in front on the mirror making your way to the kitchen. Your makeup was running down your face and your hair was a mess. No wonder everyone was staring.

“Wow you bad girl.” Rosé smirked at you. “You and Lalisa ditching me to go have sex.” She pouted.

“Other then you two I had a nice sober talk with a sweet guy named Jin.”

“That’s nice.” You grabbed the aspirin.

“Anyways….what happened?”

“I don’t remember.” You groaned.

You went to sit comfortably on the couch. Rosé followed you with an ice cold pack.

“I snuck out before I could ask.” You confessed.

“Well maybe you’ll see him again.”

“Maybe….we better call Lalisa to see if shes okay.” You suggested.

“I already did…but both of you ignored my calls.” Rosé intrigued.

You felt the pockets of the sweater, feeling for your phone. It wasn’t there. You got up following your steps to the door where your purse was. You dug through it rapidly trying to find your phone.

“Fuck.” You said panicked “fuck, fuck, fuck.” You got up.

“What?” Rosé rushed to you.

“I forgot my phone.”

-

A few hours later you were still panicked. “What am I going to do?”

“I told you already.” Rosé said annoyed.

Both your eyes made their way towards the door as it opened. Lalisa made her way through with a big smile on her face. “What’s up?” She said casually.

“Where the fuck were you?” Rosé sat up annoyed. “I’ve trying calling you all day.”

“Sorry I was out.” She made her way towards her room. Then she came back out with a bathrobe getting ready for a shower. “I had the best time last night.” She smiled. “I think I’ll stick around with this one.” The thing with Lalisa was she would hook up with guys until she found one she liked.

“He’s so cute and he has like the perfect body, nice and tall, lean.” She blushed. “We had like the best morning sex and then he bought me out for breakfast.”

“Anyway what about you? I saw you guys last night, I almost thought you were going to go at it in the dance floor.” She laughed.

You just sighed. “What’s wrong?” Lalisa asked.

“This whole thing makes me uncomfortable, sleeping with someone I just met….I don’t even remember him that much, just his face.”

“Well maybe if you didn’t sneak out maybe you could get to know him.” Rosé said.

“You snuck out….oh (Y/N)….that’s going to give him the wrong idea and now you’ll probably never see him again.” Lalisa said disappointed.

“She’s going to have too.” Rosé spoke for you.

Lalisa looked at you both. “I forgot my phone.” You said trying to stay calm.

-

“What if he answers?”

“That’s what we want doofus.” Rosé stated.

“I’ll just buy a new phone.” You turned away.

“No you wont.” Lalisa pulled you back.

“Call.” Rosé handed you her phone.

You nervous dialed your phone number. You brought it up to your ear. Your heart started beating quickly as you heard the phone ringing. Lalisa and Rosé were hanging on each shoulder listening.

“Hello.” You heard his cute voice.

“H-hi.” You nervously stuttered.

“(Y/N)?” He remembered your name?

“Hi….um…you have something that belongs to me.”

He laughed. “That’s funny because I believe you have something that belongs to me.”

It took you a few to understand what he meant, but then it occurred to you. You stole his sweater.

-

Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3

playing with fire (m.) | 01

After an ugly breakup between you and your boyfriend of nearly one year, Jimin – you’re not only heartbroken, but absolutely irate at the things discovered after the two of you split up. One night while under the influence of pure unadulterated anger and alcohol, you and your best friend come up with the perfect plan to get back at him. Because, after all, you do know what they say, right?

If he breaks your heart, you fuck his best friend.

…Even if he has six.

cr.

pairing: hoseok x reader

word count: 4.2k

collaboration with: @blushoseoks

genre: smut  |  angst  |  fuckboy!hoseok

warning: wall sex  |  oral  |  dirty talk  |  demeaning names  |  cheating

masterlist | emna’s masterlist




The gentle click of heels against the linoleum floor - almost drowned out by the muffled music coming from the end of the corridor. A cracked door, the only light source in a space that had no windows. When Jeongyeon had told you that Hoseok would be practicing late, you almost didn’t believe her. You and he had never been close. The only time you ever spoke was when Jimin would bring you over to the frat house and most of the time Hoseok would be making out with his girlfriend or fucking her loud enough that when she would leave his room - dazed with messy lipstick and a bubbly expression on her face, the boys would tease her nonstop until a blush rose on her cheeks.


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5

July’s Featured Game: SLARPG

DEVELOPER(S): Bobby “ponett” Schroeder
ENGINE: RPGMaker VX Ace 
GENRE: RPG, Fantasy
SUMMARY: SLARPG is a short, turn-based RPG following the story of Melody Amaranth, a kindhearted but meek transgender fox who’s decided to learn healing magic and become a paladin. She’s joined by her adventurous girlfriend Allison, as well as their friends Claire (a sarcastic, rule-bending witch)(she is also trans) and Jodie (a dependable, somewhat motherly knight). Over the course of the story, our inexperienced heroes will meddle with forces beyond their control and find themselves responsible for the fate of their quaint little hometown. They’ll also fight some spherical frogs, travel to a forgotten land in the sky, befriend a robot or two, and anger the local librarian. But that should go without saying. 

Our Interview With The Dev Team Below The Cut!

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anonymous asked:

prompt: andreil + emergency room visit

(this is a sequel to THIS ‘I think there’s someone in the house’ fic!)

The paramedics hammer on the door, and Neil looks up, teary-eyed, from where his face is pressed into Andrew’s damp hair. He’s feeling for his breath with the back of his hand, waiting moment to moment for Andrew to die in his arms, silently like he does everything else. Urgency keeps stunning Neil all over again, hysterical defibrillators. The EMT’s are calling out through the wall, muffled but calm.

It feels unthinkably wrong, their absolute evenness and ease outside his door when his life is an exposed neck and Andrew’s death is the whirring blade of a saw.

He realizes that he has to get up to let them in, and it seems as impossible as it would be for Andrew to spring up and answer the door himself. He feverishly wants them to crumple the door to splinters and be inside already. 

It’s a herculean effort to ease Andrew to the ground, like he’s gritting his teeth and cutting off his own leg. He touches Andrew’s clammy face briefly but he can’t bring himself to try and slap him awake. He props Andrew’s bare feet up on the rim of the bath so the blood will flood towards his head, at least.

He feels untethered to his body when he stands, a helium balloon with its usual weight passed out on the bathroom floor. He falls into the wall immediately, adrenaline neck and neck with exhaustion.

He finds his way to the front door without his mind’s help. His head is in the bathroom with Andrew, and he knows that no matter what happens it’ll be there for a long, long time.

The next time he blinks, a man in uniform is holding his biceps and peering down at him seriously.

“—sir? Sir, are you hurt at all?”

“No,” Neil says, lips numb. “Bathroom. He’s in the bathroom. He’s bleeding to death.”

He turns, easily slipping the paramedic’s grip. There’s a procession of them, hefting a gurney and a couple of kits, and they’ve brought all the cold from outside in on their heels. They’re such a foreign object in their warm, messy apartment — uniformed, official, and precise.

It’s deadly, walking in and seeing Andrew spread out in his boxers, blood oozing through his t-shirt from his loose stitches, pale enough to match the porcelain. Neil’s seen enough corpses to recognize what they look like. 

He falls heavily to his knees and puts his head directly to his chest, listening, tears slipping hotly over the bridge of his nose.

“Please,” he slurs. His heartbeat is a tentative thud, a knock from an unexpected guest. “Help him. Now, help him now.”

“We’re going to try our best Sir, but you’ve got to get out of the way,” someone says gently.

He topples backwards onto his hands. It’s a cramped space, and he knows it would be easier if he waited outside, but he also knows he’d rather die than leave them alone with him.

The first guy kneels down and takes Andrew’s pulse, and Neil shakes his head. They’re too slow, time is feeding directly into a wide open drain.

“He needs an IV. He’s two litres down, at least. You’ve got to—“ A petite woman puts a hand on his shoulder and he shrugs her off violently. “No! You have to listen to me.”

“We know what we’re doing,” she says. “Are you an MD?” She eyes him doubtfully, gaze flitting from his scars to where her colleagues are taking vitals and cutting through Andrew’s clothes.

“Yes,” Neil says wildly. “And he needs an IV. Possibly two. Large-bore, normal saline. He’s not getting any oxygen, and he’s been like this for as long as it took you to gather your meager response team.”

She purses her lips, but she’s a professional. He can see her repressing her anger and it infuriates him. He feels like he’s crashing, over and over again, and he’s watching someone daintily pump the breaks.

“He’s right,” one of the EMT’s says distractedly. “We’re gonna need to get some fluids started, he’s in hypovolemic shock, sats below 50.”

“You want to tell me what happened?” one of the men asks.

“No,” Neil says as evenly as he can manage, reaching out to graze Andrew’s cold fingers.

“Did you do these stitches?” the woman asks, pulling at Andrew’s skin to get a better look at them. He suddenly sees how they must look to them, sloppy and angry red. Neil bends her arm away without thinking about it.

“Don’t touch him,” he snaps. He could break her arm and it would make him feel better. He drops her, disoriented by his own violence.

“There’s no need to be antagonistic,” the first man says. “We don’t want to have to remove you.”

“You really don’t,” Neil agrees. “You won’t succeed.”

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Sweet Creature (M)

*I have no words*

Request: Can I get a Sub Jungkook smut where their on the couch and he cums in his pants while the reader is grinding on him on his lap and dirty talks to him in his ear??? Thanks☺️☺️☺️

Word Count: 6.9k words (heh heh)

Let me ruin you goddammit


Let’s get one thing straight. You never claimed to be a good person, never did charity work, never been the perfect daughter for your parents. And you sure as hell wasn’t someone’s little girlfriend.

You did what you want, who you wanted and slipped out of their sheets before they murmur good morning in your ear. You were a ‘no strings attached’ girl, making sure that you would never become someone’s puppet. Of course, you weren’t immune to the disease called ‘love’, your innocent high school days plagued with your naive mindset of finding the ‘one’. It still haunts you, one of the reasons your night doesn’t end with a shot of whisky and half a pack of beer. The only person who was willing to put up with you was your best friend, Jungkook.

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Before I Loved You || Peter Parker x Reader [Part 1]

Request: “Reader has been friends with Peter since before his parents died, making them childhood friends. She’s loved him for as long as she can remember and has always been there for him through thick and thin. But he starts to become distant with the whole hero thing, making her feel like she isn’t worth it anymore to him. After she sees him and Liz kiss at homecoming, she moves on to date someone but doesn’t realize Peter was actually going to tell her his secrets and ask her out.” -By Tumblr Anon

Title: Before I Loved You
Pairing: Peter Parker x (f)Reader!
Word Count: 2k+
Warning: Fluff, language, shy-stammering/blushing Peter Parker. Slight se.xual situations/dialogue. Angst? Future Homecoming Spoilers.
A/N: Reposting/Plagiarizing is not appreciated, reblog is fine. Wow I posted finally~ I really hope it came out I didn’t edit this one much. Thank you for reading ♡

This may become a 3-4 part series because it is pretty long, and I don’t usually go over 3k words with oneshots.


The day you and Peter met, all started down by the lazy river at the waterpark; a school field trip provided by Midtowns elementary and middle schools. He was the first to come up to you complimenting your Captain America hat, which lead onto a fangirling conversation between you.

“She your little girlfriend now? Look at this~ Puny Parker’s got a girlfriend!” Your moment was ruined though, of course, when some older kid came from behind Peter, just pushing him around, then flicking your hat off into the water“That’s enough!

When you had, had enough you pushed them into the pools river, satisfied they couldn’t get out because of the pools flow. After that, you had offered Peter your favorite gummy eraser of Iron Man to help cheer him up. And from then on, the two of you became good friends.


During the Stark Expo, you had gone with Peter and his parents. But everyone got separated when it ended up in crisis. Much to your surprise, when you had finally found Peter, he stood in front of one of the killer robots with the biggest toothy grin you had ever seen on him. Peter had told you he saw Iron Man, and of course you believed him.

“I stuck out my hand towards the robot?! And then it started pointing its gun at me, then out of nowhere, Iron Man takes it down from behind me! A-and, I was like Woahhhh! And then, then he was like… “Nice work kid.” That’s what he told me, Y/N, it was the coolest thing ever!”


You were Peter’s first kiss, and him yours. It was an accident of course. But when you two were in your last years of middle school, you had gone to a pool party, and the two of you were splashing waves at the other, just having a good time until he decided to try and impress you by jumping off the tall diving board… But ended up doing the world’s worst belly flop.

When he never came up you panicked and swam towards him while everyone laughed, only for him to pull you under. You guys laughed underwater until someone pushed your heads together purposely, making you share your first kiss. And that’s when you knew, you always loved him.

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The Preacher’s Daughter // A Mitch Rapp Smut

Author: @minhosmeanhoe

A/N: This is mine and @stilinski-jpeg ‘s first series together and I’m so fucking excited for y’all to see what we have planned. Love you Nia and thank you for being my best friend. 

Relationship: Mitch Rapp x Reader / Mitch Rapp x OFC

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Fingering, Oral (Male on Female), Sinning, Underage Drinking, and Swearing.

Word Count: 6,176

Song: Shape of You by Ed Sheeran

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I asked, my nervous voice ringing with the sound of my heels clicking against the pavement.

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❝ Just tell me the truth. ❞

Plot: You and your boyfriend Yoongi fought due to his stress and misunderstanding but at the end he fixs everything.

Pairing: YoongixReader

Words count: 3k+

Genre: Angst/ Fluff 

For anon, I hope you like it! - M. 

Gif isn’t mine, credits to the owner!

You were just passing by the studio to leave him something to eat. You knew too well Yoongi and you were sure he had already skipped lunch, too concentrated on the music to notice the rest.  

You had the best intentions and you still couldn’t figure out how it was possible to begin to scream in the soundproof walls of his studio.  

“Can you let me talk?” You murmured with a softer voice, hoping that lowered your voice would help him to lower his, too; “Yoongi, please.. I can’t even understand why we’re arguing! ”  

He snorted and turned back to the computer, pretending that you were not there; “Because as always you meddle in businesses that are not yours, Y/N.”  

“That is?”  

“I told you not to tell Namjoon I have problems with this track, but accidentally he said that I don’t have to worry. You were the only one who knew. ”  

You remained silent for a fraction of a second, remembering the fact that you didn’t see and text Namjoon for almost four days and he interpreted your silence as an admission of guilt.  

You opened your mouth to be able to say something when he turned and his face was so transformed by frustration and anger that it didn’t even seem to have before Yoongi.  

He got up and you just flinched away, feeling a thrill of fear running along your back but he didn’t approach you. He ignored you, as he had done a few seconds before and came up to the door, opening it and keeping it open.  

“Go away.”  

His jaw was contracted while you watched him completely shocked by his attitude, without finding the strength to move one step. You noticed how his hands trembled, how he clung to the door, and even though he was treating you unjustly, you felt sorry to see him in those conditions.  

“Yoo–”  

“I said go away, Y/N,” He hissed bitterly, finally lifting his gaze and laying it on you. The thrill of you felt before was nothing compared to what crossed through your body, taking for a few moments your breath. “I don’t need you, I don’t need your attention. You have to stop, okay? I can handle everything alone because then the result of your attentions are just trouble. ” His tone became more and more aloof and cold to every word he uttered, while what he said slipped on you and almost put the roots within you.  

You never thought he had so little need of you or considered you a kind of trouble, but it wasn’t hard to believe.  

You had always had problems in dealing with people and in time you came to the conclusion that the main problem was you.  

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