mollified

starforged  asked:

Sara introduces Scott to her LI

“Greetings, true-brother to my darling one. I am Jaal Ama Darav, ninth of the Ama Daravs. The Angara do not have siblings that are tweens so I hope I am addressing you properly. While I know multiple humans, and have prepared extensively for this introduction, I fear there will be shortcomings–please, do not hesitate to address any areas that are lacking and I will do my best to form a strong impression. Sara has been irrevocably dear to me for several of your months now. I have been in complete awe of her strength, beauty, and intelligence–for every quality she possesses can only capture my fullest admiration. I have expressed my ardent passions clearly to her, and she has expressed her sharing of them. I have therefore made you a rofjinn to demonstrate my truest desire to join with your family.”

Scott sat numbly as Jaal cleared his throat, leaning over the man’s hospital bed to gingerly clasp a lavender rofjinn around his shoulders.

“I…I have been told by another human that these are comfortable,” Jaal finished, looking away to the side.

Scott, clad in lavender, looked up at the other side of his hospital bed.Sara stood next to him, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck.

Jaal coughed into his hand. Scott slowly turned to face him. The Angaran lowered his voice, slightly mollified. “Additionally, my mother would like to know if you enjoy any particular human Earth sweets.”

Scott turned back to his twin sister. “Sara, what’s happening.”

She gave a strained smile. “He was nervous.”

Scott looked at Jaal. Who smiled. Then looked back to Sara. “Who is he.”

“I am Jaal Ama Darav, devoted companion and lover of your true-sister.”

The younger Ryder pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice a tired whisper. “I just woke up.”

Been thinking alot about how fandom really focuses on Sansa and ‘lying’. To me, it is very overstated and overfocused considering Sansa never lies with malicious intent to hurt people. Sure, how she shapes and interprets reality in A Game Of Thrones especially with the Trident Incident is important (where she falsely recalls Mycah hitting Joffrey) is important, but it’s not the be end all of the character. How Sansa grows and changes is also vital. Here, I’ll try to make clear that lying is not one of Sansa’s ‘flaws’, she is human and is not perfect but holding her lies against her doesn’t really work.

I don’t mind discussion about how lying impacts on Sansa, and the role in plays within her story- my problem is when people use that as a reason to be against her character.

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Yoongi Scenario: Blind Devotion.

Request: Can you pleaseee do a Yoongi angst/fluff where you two are married, and everything is perfect but then one day, you started losing you rsight day by day, and you push him away, but he finds out himself and tries to help you in secret because you push him away? Based off of Blind Devotion.

Genre: Angst / Fluff.


You secretly loved to wake Yoongi up, or well, maybe not so secretly. He always said he was going to wake up before you and before the alarm so he’d get his revenge, but you knew he wouldn’t as he secretly or not so secretly loved to be woken up by you. 

You liked seeing his face changing, his eyes opening to meet yours as the first thing he saw in the morning, how that gaze fluctuated from slight annoyance from being woken to utter affection in just seconds and then he’d attack.
You’d have him on top of you in no time, tickling your sides making you squirm and scream as you laughed, you loved mornings like that, in which you’d end up panting because of the tickling fights or the tickling fight would turn in you melting into each other.

You were married for almost six years, you looked back at your life with Yoongi and thought you had been really fortunate to find him, to find each other. Even after so much time together you weren’t bothered of each other’s presences, part of it you knew it was due to your independent lives, both of you worked and had your own time, but you also knew the big reason was the way your personalities worked together, you were a great team, so even when you had trouble you always found a way to work it out together, each fight you were able to overcome it because you knew at the end of it there was much more than anger. Yoongi would never let you feel alone and you would never let him think that.

You took “turns” to make breakfast, you did the most of the work but you appreciated him always being around and offering to do whatever task you had for him, being scrambled eggs, pancakes or kimbap, you always made sure he went to work with a full stomach, Yoongi worked a lot and you knew how he focused on it so much he forgot to eat at the company.

-Which one?- he asked showing you two dress shirts, one stark white, the other pale blue, you assessed the two options humming. 

-Have a big event today?- he shook his head so you pointed at the pale blue. -You look great in baby blue-

Yoongi snorted putting the white shirt aside to then throw on the other one which made you laugh and walk closer to him. -What?- he said smiling despite himself.

You extended your hands and put them over his making him stop, you finished buttoning the shirt for him as you locked gazes, Yoongi was smug but didn’t take compliments all too well, a bad habit of him that you were determine to break at some point. -Handsome- you stated when you proceeded to fix his neck.

He let his head fall back with a humorous sigh but then he came back to look at you his hands held you closer and he stamped his lips on yours. -I love you, mine, mine, mine- he said between kisses making you giggle.

Yoongi was sometimes quiet with his love, sometimes only saying this with his eyes, others as today making it evident with words, he’d watch you get dressed and wait to be able to say goodbye, and he’d watch you walk away to the opposite direction of him, you could feel his heavy gaze on you, and that too was love, whatever form might be you knew it was there.

It happened for the first time that day, you had gotten off the bus to walk the remaining block to get to your work when suddenly the rays of the sun where everywhere making your vision blurry, like you had gone out of a dark place after a long time, the light started to hit your eyes like arrows, to then go back to shadows and go back to the striking light afterwards, confusing you, making you bump with people and walk slowly because you didn’t know what was happening. And then you heard the screech of the horn.

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tough-teddy-deactivated20170303  asked:

Hi, I'm creating a comic where troubled, low income teens are given the option to go to a boarding school, in North California, to train to become monster hunters. The school is mostly populated by minorities mostly African American, Native Americans, South East Asians, and Latinx. A friend of mine said it might be seen as problematic to have Native Americans be in a government own boarding school. This worries me since my main character is a Native American boy whom loves the school.

Native Character in Monster-Hunter Boarding School; Poor implications? 

So, yes, it could be a very tricky thing to have Native Americans in the school. But it all boils down to two questions:

  1. Is it consensual in the most genuine sense of the term?
  2. Do they become part of a new culture, or do they keep their old one and add to it?

The residential school system was not consensual even when there weren’t laws in place forcing kids to go. Parents could and did send their children there because they thought it was for the best, because they were coerced into it, or because they had developed the type of fondness you develop for your abuser where you try to replicate the pattern because you haven’t healed from it yet.
If the kids are told in very informed ways what happens to their lives— who they have contact with, whether or not their culture has to change (a big red flag would be no room to carry on cultural beliefs or, in the case of Natives, reconnect with their cultural beliefs), how their lives would get better and worse.

If, however, the kids are caught in moments of desperation, where it’s basically “come with us or else”, then there would be major problems with the validity of that consent. If the kids are doing okay but looking for a way out, that’s one thing, but if the school reps dive in at a bad point when all hope seems lost, I would feel very uncomfortable.

Next, you have to give him options to practice and explore his culture. The pain of the residential school system was because it was an active attempt at destroying our culture. So if you have it that your character is still Native, keeps what traditions he can, and is allowed to go back into his community/family without problem, then you’ve mollified the forced assimilation undertones to the school.

you should have minimal problems with the government run boarding school. If you want a general list of what to avoid in the school to make it not be a residential school, Canada published the Truth and Reconciliation Commission describing the country’s use of the system and the abuse that happened within. The possibility exists you’ll trigger people regardless (it is a very fresh trauma in our communities), but by making it consensual and having connections to his culture, you’ll at least minimize the negative impact. Check out [Braving Native American Diversity] and [Researching Native American Cultures] for tips on how to make him have a culture.

~ Mod Lesya

4

Hunger Games + Book Moments

“They’re playing with you because you’re so … you know.”

“No, I don’t know,” I say. And I really have no idea what he’s talking about.

“It’s like when you wouldn’t look at me naked in the arena even though I was half dead. You’re so … pure,” he says finally.

“I am not!” I say. “I’ve been practically ripping your clothes off every time there’s been a camera for the last year!”

“Yeah, but … I mean, for the Capitol, you’re pure,” he says, clearly trying to mollify me. “For me, you’re perfect.”

Dragons

This is going to be a long story. 

Some of you, those who have been following me for a while or seen me at conventions, know that I am *trying* to branch out into designing toys rather than just making them. There are a lot of reasons for this, primarily so that I have time: time to design new things, time to rest, time to do literally anything other than crochet delightful sea creatures - you get the gist. 

It’s not that I don’t love making things, I do. And I’m certainly not going to stop making things; I’m pretty sure I can’t, to be honest. But I have to admit that it would certainly be much easier on me, at least for my wrists, to have sewing machines do most of the work. 

So. The dragons. 

I finally made enough money to get a run of plushies made, and I decided to start with my red dragons as my first line. Dragons were one of my most popular items, but they were a lot of work to make, so I figured they would be perfect as plushies. 

I decided to go with Gann Memorials for my production. Now that I’ve already made my mistakes, I’ve had a lot of people tell me that I should never have partnered with Gann, but since nobody felt the need to tell me anything about them previous to my giving them quite a lot of money, that’s who I went with. I did have one person tell me that they were “skeevy”, but since she wouldn’t go into any detail or even use any other words to describe them, I assumed her issue was personal in nature and dismissed it. I wasn’t planning on spending time with these people, I reasoned, just entering into a business arrangement with them. I don’t care if they’re skeevy. I care if they’re competent. 

Well, now I know. 

We began in July of 2015, a year and a half ago. I made the initial phone call (which was grand, because I have social anxiety and calling people on the phone is one of my least favorite things to do). Chris Gann (hereafter Chris) was a genial guy, very much a salesman - but, since I was looking to buy things from him, that was pretty much what I was looking for. We set up an account for me. Promises were made, verbal assurances; they specialize in quick turnaround for orders, I’d have them in less than three months (assuming that I don’t take forever making alterations, of course), they have very high quality standards, et cetera. 

A few days later he set up a Basecamp account. Basecamp is an app for communication between people working on a project together. I can definitely recommend it; it works out beautifully for that precise thing. The account was started July 27. 

So far, so good. 

On August 11, he sent me the first sample images. They needed some tweaking, but I was starting to get excited. I made my recommendations and he went off to relay them to the production team. 

On August 19, he sent the second sample images. These were very close. I accepted this version:

Cute, right? I think it’s cute. Grumpy, but not off-putting; now that I have a little more experience under my belt, I can see where I would make further changes, but it’s still very cute.  

September 1: Chris tells me that the dragons will be shipped to me in October. 

September 7: Chris informs me that these guys are going to need tags. I hadn’t thought about that, but I whip up an acceptable tag design (it’s not great but it’ll work) and send it off to him two days later. I don’t hear back from him until October 2nd, when I ask for a shipping estimate; Chris assures me that they’ll ship by the end of the month. 

October 21: Chris asks me to approve the tag design that I had sent him. I’m a little confused, but I approve. The day after, I approve of the shipping mark and I start to get myself emotionally prepared to receive a large shipment of toys. 

October 29: I check up again on the time frame. Chris says he’ll ask. 

November 2: Chris says that they’ll be shipped by the end of the week. 

I want to point out here that Chris told me they would be *delivered* by the end of October, not shipped at the beginning of November. I’m a little unhappy with this, but you know, things happen. Whatever. I’ll probably shop around for the next line of plushies due to this delay; he hasn’t lost my business forever at this point, but neither has he pleased me to the point where I would go with his company again as a matter of course. 

November 5: Chris sends me pictures of the final product. There’s not much in the way of variation from what I had already approved, so I assume all is well. He also tells me that I’ll be getting extra product on their dime. I am pleased by the prospect, as that would mollify me about the delay. Unfortunately, it turns out not to be true. 

Novemter 18: I receive the boxes. I do not believe in putting things off, so I opened them immediately and went through my product, counting and sorting carefully. I am widely dismayed by what I find. 

I ordered 350 dragons. It’s a small order, in the way of these things, but it was what I could afford. I did receive exactly 350 dragons, but they were not what I had approved. Every aspect was correct and acceptable *except* the most important part of any mammal, toy or not: the face. In this case, the eyes. Of the whole order, 17 dragons had split seams (not a big deal, I’m handy with a needle and I understand that they underwent significant squishing in order to fit them into as few boxes as possible to make shipping affordable); 46 were correct, as in their eye placement and shape were in a range close to what I had approved of; and a whopping 286 of them had what I have to call drastically incorrect eye placement. Here’s what I mean: 

The eyelids are too low and placed at the wrong angle, making it look sleepy (still sellable, but not what I paid for). The eyelids are, by the way, glued into place. 

These eyes are totally wrong (and, may I remind you, glued into place, so I can’t fix it without cutting the eyes out completely). That’s just… wrong. 

This guy has to be my favorite. One eye is significantly larger than the other one and has been placed about a quarter inch higher; the eyelids are entirely wonky - and still glued into place. 

Dec 3: Chris tells me he is trying to work things out with the factory; I send him the above images for clarification. He says he may just have me keep what I received and he will replace the entire order on his dime. 

I am, at this point, entirely depressed. I feel like a failure. I have a certainty that this issue will not be corrected, and even if it is, it won’t be corrected in anything like a reasonable time scale. I feel that I have wasted a very large sum of money and way too much time and it makes me angry and hugely, vastly, deeply disappointed. 

January 5, 2016: Chris asks me if the appearance of the dragons I received is somehow different from the sample I approved. I wonder to myself if he has working eyeballs, or at least knows someone who does, but I respond in the affirmative and re-send all of the pictures, including the one I approved for reference. All of these pictures are still in the Basecamp account. All I have to do is scroll to look at these exact same pictures, but I send them again anyways. I also ask for honesty, here; if he’s not going to fix this, please at least have the decency to tell me about it so I can move on with my life and not have to expend my energy trying to get something done here. 

January 7: Chris takes umbrage at the notion that he might just possibly not bother to fix these glaring mistakes, as he is nothing if not forthright and good. I point out that the delivery took much, much longer than he had initially told me, and that the extra product that was supposed to be included with the shipment never showed up. 

January 8: Chris says that he  misspoke about me getting extras; there will not be another box forthcoming, he was mistaken about that. He does graciously allow me to keep the gigantic pile of unsellable, wasted material that they sent me, and promises that he’ll have the dragons remade at his expense and the issue with the eyes will definitely be fixed in the next batch. (This also turns out to be untrue.)

January 9: Chris tells me that the next batch will ship out after the Chinese New Year. This makes sense to me; holidays always mess up shipping times, and these are travelling across the planet, after all. I settle down and assume they’ll be here in six to eight weeks. 

April 20: This is more than six to eight weeks, you will notice. Chris tells me to expect a shipment some time late next month. I have given up on ever seeing these damn things. 

September 23: Chris sends new pictures for approval. It has been over a year since the first time I went through this process; I was told that I would have them in under three months. Over a year. I’ve moved to a different state by this point and yes, I was snippy. I pointed out that in the FIVE MONTHS since I last heard from him, my address had changed. 

I liked the new ones. These looked angrier. If I got dragons like these, I would be able to sell them in exchange for money. 

November 16: Chris asks me for my delivery address. Again. I ask if this indicates that they will be shipped soon, but there’s no response. 

January 10, 2017: Gene Gann, another employee of Gann Memorials, informs me that I should expect my shipment by mid-February. 

February 8: Gene asks me for my phone number, which I supply, so the shipper can get into contact with me to set up a delivery time. 

February 15: The shipper calls me. We set up a delivery time. 

February 17, 2017: I receive six boxes full of dragons. They have the same qualities of the first batch, only there are more of them this time. Four - I repeat, four - are correct, in that they match the above picture. A further 189 are in sellable condition, looking sleepy or disappointed rather than angry but otherwise having no defects. 27 have split seams, only three of which I bother fixing since the other 24 have devastatingly bizarre eye placement. 303 dragons go into boxes with glued-on, incorrectly placed, wrongly sized eyes. 

In the end, I’ve received a total of 243 dragons that are in a sellable condition. Only a small portion of those actually resemble what I ordered. 589 dragons can only be sold as misfits. I put some in grab bags, feeling guilty. I see them in trash cans at conventions and can’t really blame anyone. 218 dragons, which should have been sold at a profit to fund the next line, are utterly unusable. I have scrapped them and am using their stuffing to fill other projects. 

I am bitter about the entire thing. I am angry. I am never, ever going to do business with Gann Memorials again, nor will I recommend them to anyone, as I cannot with good conscience do so, because if they had an experience anything similar to mine I would be wracked with the most horrible guilt. 

I *am* going to try again. As tempting as it is to simply give up, to assume that there is something lacking about my character, that there is something about me that makes things like this happen, I won’t do it. I’m saving up for another line of plush toys. I am shopping around for a different company to work with. 

My hands are tired and my blood pressure is high, but I’m still going. 


(I want to put in a disclaimer that I am not assuming anything about the personal morality of Chris or Gene Gann. I do not want them attacked or thought of in any wrong way because of how all of this went down. This was a business deal, and sometimes they go sour. This could have been a series of misunderstandings, mistakes, communication errors, unfortunate events, what have you. I don’t know what’s going on in their lives. These are things that happened, and they will affect who I do business with going forward, but I don’t assume that these are bad people. I don’t think I could encourage anyone to have a business relationship with this company and these people, but if you want to have a beer with them, I’m sure they’re very nice.)

Evak Prompt: Song of Achilles

Personally, I blame @patrochillea for this one, as she just read TSOA and keeps reblogging stuff from it. And it brought back my feels.

And I think Isak would be all grumpy grumpy starting it and then really fucking loving the book as he reads on. Like there’s action and blood and gay? He’d be into it.

———————————–

So the thing is, Isak isn’t exactly a reader. 

It’s not that he can’t read- it’s just that he’d much rather be listening to music or, like, smoking with his friends, or maybe fucking his boyfriend. Reading isn’t the highest on his list of things to do when one is bored.

And yet.

“Here,” Sana said, sliding a blue and gold faced book on the blacktop of their biology desk. “This is for Even.”

Isak peers at the gift suspiciously, “What is it?”

Sana gave him a dry look, “Well Isak, it’s called a book. Sometimes people read them to transport themselves to like-”

“Yeah, yeah, Sana,” Isak rolls, his eyes, “I know what a fucking book is.”

“Then what are you asking stupid questions for?”

“I just-” He stops ans sighs, understanding now that there is no point in fighting this battle with Sana when he can so easily ambush his boyfriend at lunch.

He slides the book into his bag without another thought.

——

Even inspects the book almost as carefully as Isak had when Sana first gave it to him, “What’s this?”

Isak shrugs, “Sana told me to give it to you.”

Song of Achilles,” Even reads out in English, words forming much more smoothly than any attempts Isak could make, and traces the title. A moment passes and then he nods, “Oh. Aww Sana is so sweet-”

Sweet?”

“- I’m reading the Iliad in class and am hating it. She mentioned a book that would be more my speed.”

Even flips open the first page. But like- that would mean he’s no longer paying attention to Isak. 

And that would just not do. So Isak leans into him and kisses the shell of his ear until the book lays on the lunch table forgotten.

——–

That’s the end of it for like two days. But then there is a night that Isak can’t for the life of him sleep. And he’s tried everything- warm milk, counting sheep, Even fucking him into the mattress.

And yet the clock read 2:07 in the morning and Even is snuffling peacefully next to him. And Isak is stuck.

So he gets out of bed and rifles through his backpack, searching for nothing, but coming up with the little gold and blue book.

“Song of Achilles.” he mouths out and glances dubiously to Even.

He might as well, right?

Isak slides back in bed and turns on his desk light, thanking the gods for Even’s ability to sleep through a nuclear airstrike. 

——–

The book is really fucking gay.

Isak reads absently through the first chapter, onto the second, side eyeing the way in which Patroclus describes seeing Achilles for the first time. He reads through their childhood years, becoming more enraptured in the fucking descriptions.

And in the fucking gay? How did Sana even come by this book?

There is a groan from next to him, and Isak jumps, pulling himself reluctantly out of Patroclus’ musings about the past, “Huh?”

Even’s eyes are still shut, nose crinkling cutely in the morning and he rolls over just a bit, just enough for his forehead to rest on Isak’s bare chest and Isak thinks I could recognize him by touch alone; by smell. I would know him blind-

“The alarm is going off.”

Isak blinks and looks down at the clock: 7:45am.

Well huh.

————–

The school day passes in a blur. Isak doesn’t pay attention to it. Instead he thinks about the way in which Achilles juggles figs to get Patroclus’s attention. Or the way Thetis is so against her son falling in love with a mortal.

He thinks about Achilles and when he does, he’s confused as to why bright blonde curls turns into Even’s darker quiff. 

He’s fucking hopeless, that’s why.

“What’s this?” Even drops down at the lunch table next to him, nudging a piece of paper Isak had been scribbling on. Even peers down to read, “We were like gods at the dawning of the world?

Isak shakes his head and crumples up the paper. He leans up to give Even a kiss, “Halla.”

“Halla.” Even gestures to the crumpled paper, “Do I ask?”

Isak is silent for a few precious moments and then it all just kid of bursts out of him. “So you need to read Song of Achilles. Right when we get home. It’s important.”

“Important?”

“Important,” Isak confirms, “Like I might withhold sex if you don’t read it, important.”

Even’s eyes go wide and a strangled laugh escapes him, “That important huh?”

Isak nods, “I need to ask your opinion about Thetis and Achilles. And then, I need you to draw some stuff so I can have a clear picture about scenes in the book. 

“Alright?” Even’s voice is dubious, but Isak is mollified. 

He picks up one of Even’s fries and nods, “Alright.”

——–

{fic} Sing Down the Skies ch 1/?

Part 1 of the ‘Elain comes to the Spring Court post-acomaf’ + fake dating, sort of + extreme angst elucien fic! 1.5k. rated T for being really sad. ao3

“I’m going to pretend to fall in love with you.”

All the air goes out of the room. Lucien is so uncomprehending he’s sure he must have misheard her. “What?”

I.

The negotiations have ended such that only one of Feyre’s sisters will be released to the Spring Court. Lucien is not sure of the particulars as to why. All of the conflict, all of the plotting, all of Tamlin’s rage and Feyre’s simpering smiles and Rhysand’s dramatic demands have faded into a dull buzzing he no longer bothers to parse.

The sister they send will be Elain, Tamlin tells them. He sounds proud, like this is some kind of gift that he’s giving them both, though it is presumably what Rhysand and Feyre decided upon beforehand and then manipulated Tamlin into thinking he accomplished.

Feyre’s fake concern is almost insufferable. She bites her lip, puts a hand on her heart, leans into Tamlin for support as her eyelashes flutter in an imitation of feeble strength. “Oh, of course I wish you could have got them both, but it will be such a relief to have Elain away from them. Nesta’s always been so strong, I’m sure—“ here she falters, so that Tamlin can wrap an arm around her waist and murmur concernedly, and she can give him a weak smile of gratitude, “—I’m sure she can bear it for a little longer.”

It’s almost insulting, the levels of Tamlin’s stupidity her charade is revealing. There is no negotiation in the world that would have stopped Feyre—the real Feyre—from demanding both of them back, from crossing Prythian and personally dismantling the Night Court brick by brick to get them back, if she thought they were really in even the slightest amount of danger. And Tamlin, who just smiles dotingly and kisses her on the forehead, should know that. Tamlin should know that better than anyone.

“You should be excited, Lucien,” It takes Lucien a moment to even register that Tamlin’s speaking to him, voice laced with a tense expectation: Feyre is performing her gratitude, why aren’t you?

“I am excited,” Lucien says smoothly, giving Tamlin the barest of acceptable smiles. “Of course I am. I’m sorry, please excuse me.”

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So, SOMEONE ( @mollifiable ) sent me a bunch of sketches as an extra present. Let me share those with ya’ll.

Soooo in this one Chloe seems to have my tattoo on her wrist and is wearing my Yoshi Woolly World sweater…? :O

The petnames that seem to have stuck the most lately have been “Duck” and “Turtle.” (and she ain’t even seen ATLA yet)

Is this what she’s been like at uni lately…? -^^-

This one’s just wintery and adorable. <3

Scientific fact:
“Fuckin’ GENJI!”
is my most uttered phrase across the like 100 hours I’ve played of Overwatch. ^_^;;

And lastly, this one seems to be from the ‘All Wounds’ reality. </3

Don’t worry, things will get better. <3


@mollifiable Thanks so much, Bebby~<3
These are great.

ain’t no sunshine

for @timepetalsprompts ‘bed sharing’ trope. originally had a cracky interlude with donna, but sort of got too long (it still exists somewhere, though). fluff. and a little bit of crack and angst. ten x rose reunion fic.

AO3

He came around slowly; blinked a couple of times and attempted to focus on the mild haze of peachy and yellowish pinks in front of him. His head throbbed dully and persistently, inducing the vague feeling of nausea, which ricocheted upwards to his dizzy head. Feeling inexplicably warm and fuzzy, he let his eyes fall closed. When he opened his mouth, what escaped was a somewhat throaty sigh.

Instantaneously, a voice came drifting.

“Doctor?”

(Oh, what a nice voice. What a nice voice.)

“Donna, d’you know.” He slurred, tongue stiff and clammy in his mouth, “You sound JUS’ like Rose.”

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Haunted Manor

It was bound to happen, me writing a Supersons fic. I mean, Jon and Damian are just too cute to stay away from for long. So I hope you guys enjoy this little adventure I’ve cooked up. Thanks to @audreycritter​ for helping me workshop this. @komadoriwonder​ I told you I’d do something fluffy, even if I’m a little late with it. ;)

Summary: Damian and Jon go on a ghost hunt in the manor

Rating: Gen

Words: 4,700

Warnings: None

AO3 Link


A high pitched scream tore through the manor, accompanied by the heavy crashing of panicked feet on wood as Damian and Jon tore down a hallway. Their pace was one of panicked teens running from a ghostly apparition after late night tales of horror. Despite the lack of scary stories or jump scares, Damian could almost be certain of the presence of a ghostly apparition. One he didn’t want following them by Jon’s yelling.

“Silence, Kent.” Damian hissed as they slid to turn, their feet in unison pounding down the next hallway.

Jon gulped and managed to cut off his cry as the two reached the main staircase. He was glad of his new attention when Damian stumbled on one of the steps and he had to reach out and haul him back. Damian grumbled a thank you as they reach the bottom step and continued running.

Their mad dash only stopped when they’d reached the safety of the well lit living room they’d set up camp in. Jon feel onto the couch, tossing a pillow off it to meet the other ones scattered around the sleeping bags on the floor.

Titus looked up from where he’d been curled up on one of the pillows and tilted his head at Jon. Damian stepped over to scratch him behind his ears. The simple action started to calm Damian’s frayed nerves.

“I thought you said the manor wasn’t haunted.” Jon said, his words broken as he attempted to catch his breath. Neither boy was out of shape, but both still struggled to slow their racing hearts and control their heaving chests.  

“It’s not.” Damian snapped.

Titus shook his head, discharging Damian’s hand from its task, and laid back down. Damian crossed his arms and let one foot tap on the floor as his mind tried to come to terms with what had just happened. For it had happened. Damian was sure of it. What it was, he wasn’t sure of. Surrounded by the normality of the living room he was starting to wonder what it was they’d encountered.

“Well,” Jon said, absently reaching for the half-finished bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. “It sure seems that way to me.”

Keep reading

Boss 04 - Yoongi

genre : mafiaAU, smut, angst
words : 4,7k
masterlist
01 l 02 l 03 l 04


“Nice to meet you”, Lee Tae Hwan said solemnly, bowing slowly before you. You gulped, returning the words sternly, looking at Yoongi who stood behind him. So here he was, your new body guard, the one that you boyfriend assigned to protect and defend you. Apparently, you couldn’t take care of yourself on your own, even with all the training you’ve followed with Yoongi and Hoseok, even with all the weapon you’ve triggered, even with all the hits you’ve received; you couldn’t, according to him. Hence the necessity of a bodyguard.

You should have been fine with this, it was for your safety, for your security. But when you laid your eyes on him, you had a different feeling as you felt the strange aura that wafted from him, and the look you witnessed in his eyes didn’t help your resentment. However, that was the gaze Yoongi, and all the other members you were close to, had when they had an important mission; and you were his important mission. Besides, you knew that he had to be serious in front of his boss, maybe he would relax a bit more when he’d be with you only. “I’ll be with you almost all the time from now on”, he alleged, his jet black irises finally meeting yours as he rose his back to stand straight.

His voice woke you up from your reverie, and you nearly jumped when he broke the heavy silence of the room. You offered him a small and shy smile, but he didn’t give you one back and kept neutral features on. Your eyes fell on your boyfriend’s frame, gazing him, silently asking him to speak up or actually do something to ease the awkward atmosphere. You sighed in relief when he began to take a few steps towards you, to eventually stand next to you.

“He will be by your side all the time; from the moment you leave this house to the moment you come back. He will drive you to college, take the same classes, eat with you, drive you back. Do you have questions?”, he avowed as he put his warm hand on your lower back, the small gesture aiming to mollify you.

“He needs to be registered in the university book to assist to the classes, how will he do that?”, you asked, your eyebrows frowned questioningly. “You do not need to worry about such details.”, he answered, giving you a one-second apology look. You replied with a little “okay”, knowing you would be able to ask all you needed to wanted and have the proper answers the night, when you’d be alone with your boyfriend.

“Also, when I won’t be home, he will guard the house, either outside or inside. He will have to call me beforehand and I will tell him where to be. That’s pretty much all, so you can go to school now if you don’t have any more questions.”. You unconsciously clenched your jaw. You didn’t like the idea, but throwing a fit here wouldn’t help anything because you knew he wouldn’t concede to anything you would ask here, so you’d have to wait, again.

Lately, it seemed that all you did was wait for Yoongi, but you couldn’t complain, you had chosen this way of living, you could only blame yourself for this.

You sighed at the thought, your eyes on the floor, not looking at him and directing yourself to the main door. “Does he really even has to eat with me?”, you scoffed as you stopped in your tracks and looked back at your boyfriend, eyes flicking with hope. “Yes. I’ll see you tonight”, he said loud and clear, yet kind of softly, enough for all the people (which could be resumed to you, Tae Hwan, Yoongi and two of his men) to hear. You looked at him over your shoulder, giving him a sad smile through pouty lips. “Yeah, see you tonight”, you replied in a whisper, exiting the large house.

You eyed your new bodyguard, who was walking beside you down the path that lead you to the road, “Do we take my car?”, you asked quietly, hoping for a positive reply. You noticed how his eyebrows frowned, as if he wasn’t really understanding your question.

“The Boss said that I should drive you to college, and he told me that I should use one of our cars in case something bad happens. He said you would understand”, he told you as he opened the door of the black Audi A4 for you. “Yeah of course, thanks”, you sighed, entering the car. He gave you a small smile, before slamming the door shut. You, once again, let yourself get lost in your own thoughts as your chauffeur started to drive out of the calm road, leading the both of you to your university.

However, a light buzz in your coat’s pocket distracted you. You raised an eyebrow, taking your phone out to see who would even try to contact you at such an hour in the morning.

[7:19] Yoon’ 👀💞 : Send me a message when you’re in class, and when you’re home, please.

[7:19] Yoon’ 👀💞 : Sorry for putting you in this position.

[7:20] Yoon’ 👀💞 : I love you.

A small smile adorned you lips at the sight of the last text, and you chuckled lightly to yourself, your cheeks blushing a bit. You weren’t feeling especially good when you left the house, but these messages warmed your heart, knowing your boyfriend would do anything for you (and even break the “I don’t send messages with hearts or ‘I love yous’ Y/N” rule that he set himself, as if he needed to fit with his whole Boss image with you).

[7:21] You : Okay. It’s alright, this way I’m safe, right?

[7:21] You : I love you too Yoongi

For the first time in a long time, you were in advance for class. You easily found a seat in the large room, nearly empty of students at this hour in the morning –it was only 7:38 in the morning on your watch, and students didn’t desire to arrive just yet and patient here. After sending a reassuring message to your boyfriend, you looked around you, trying to find some familiar faces, but of course the few friends you had wouldn’t be there. There were only this group of stoners in the back of the room on the far left, and some persons dispersed around the room. You sighed at the fact before you: today was going to be a long day.

“Are you alright?”, Tae Hwan asked, yet not looking at you.

“Yes, yes. What about you?”, you replied, eyeing him from the corner of your eye and observing what he was doing; which was mainly scrolling through his phone. You frowned when you realised that he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings, you could notice that he wasn’t even aware of your sight; nor noticing your suspicious eyes.

“Yes”. His brief and almost cold response made you raise your eyebrows, just a bit, wondering if this kind of behaviour was linked to his personality or the actual situation he was in. He could just have been his usual self, but something in the back of your mind made you doubt it.

“How long how you been working for Yoongi?”, you questioned, eyes still turned to his face, lips pursed. You were focused on his facial features, trying to read his mind through them. However, at the sound of your question, you didn’t see any change, any muscle contract, any blink of an eye; nothing. “For about 2 years now”, he said, finally turning his head to you, diving his eyes in yours. Goosebumps creeped up under the skin of your arm, making your body hair lift a bit, when you saw how dark and cold his sight was, and you gulped, not daring to look away. “Why?”, he asked, leaning towards you a bit, his arm brushing past yours.

“I was just wondering”, you noted, drifting your eyes to the front of the class.

“Are you scared of me?”

“No”, you replied instantly. This time, you were the one to have hard traits on. You waited a few seconds before looking back at him in the eyes, and you both stared at each other for a while, not speaking, just observing the other in the blank of their eyes. “I am not afraid of you”, you began, nearly startled by your own boldness, “I just don’t trust you”, you established impassively, not backing away.

“Why? Don’t you trust Yoongi?”, he questioned, tilting his head to the side with a sly smirk plastered on his lips.

“I do trust him, but I don’t trust anyone else”, you said as you frowned your eyebrows. He should have known you’d replied something similar to this, because right after you spoke up, a mocking chuckle filled up the now-not-so-empty room. “You’re cute”, he blatantly said, earning wide eyes from you. Before you could say anything back, he decided to speak again, “I can trust me, you have no reason not to, I can assure you that”, he stated as if it was the most obvious thing on the planet.

“I have every reason not to trust you. I have death threats against me. I can only trust myself or the people I’ve known for a long time”, you vouched, eyes collectedly planted in his own. He simply chuckled again, his head dramatically falling backwards. You could see how his Adam apple slowly moving as he laughed, and for an unknown reason, it pissed you off. “Why are you laughing about?”.

“Do you remember what happened 2 years ago? It was in October, and when you were on your way to the H.Q., alone, and some crazy crackheads tried to mug you. You screamed really loudly, and even more when one of them tried to attack you with a bladed weapon”, he narrated, smirking at your frowned eyebrows. “The one who came and shot them, it was me”. He flashed you a cheeky smile, the disclosure leaving you eyes wide open, mouth agape.

“I- I can’t believe this”

“You should though”, he continued as he turned his face to the main board in front of you, “Ever since then, I’ve been especially trained to security detail, to know how to react as a bodyguard; under Yoongi’s specific orders. It seems like he has planned from a long time to keep you secured”.

“What do you mean?”; you asked with eyebrows nearly knocked together. You didn’t understand what he was implying. Yoongi has never told you any of the things he was saying, you were positive about this. He wouldn’t have hidden it either, why would he?

“I’m just saying that Boss has organized you a protection the moment he knew you’ve first been assaulted”.

You stared at him, trying to find any kind of expression that would involve him lying. But when you studied his features, you didn’t notice any trace of lie, any suspicion; you found none of them, nothing suspicious. Your eyes flicked from his eyes to his mouth, and back to his black and dark pupils. He didn’t seem to be lying, and that was something that scared you because it could mean two things. Either he was the best liar of all time to lure you into something you didn’t know about –yet-, or Yoongi lied to you, breaking the promises you’ve made –believing in each other no matter what, not lying, for the good of your relationship; and your safety.

After what felt like hours of reflexion, you wanted to ask questions out loud, not just in your head, you wanted answers; about how it has been for him or why you never have seen him before. Though, when you opened your mouth to let out all of your thoughts and worries come to live, your Chinese history professor tap his microphone a few times to silent the room, startling you at the same time. You gulped as you realized that you wouldn’t be able to earn not even one response, Mr. Ling not allowing gabbing in his class.


For the first time, the lessons of your teacher didn’t reach your mind, now impervious to his usually entertaining words. You simply couldn’t focus on the board, or even on transcribing Mr Ling’s speech about how Confucius or Kǒng Fūzǐ if you decided not to use the Latin version, on many aspects, had developed a philosophy that lead the Chinese people –because of his principles- to accept, in the future, Maoism and communism, because of a solid system of structured family and all. But no matter how interesting the class was, you couldn’t focus.

No, you just couldn’t focus at all, you were too taken aback by the revelation your bodyguard told you that you didn’t even want to follow your teacher’s runny words. For the two whole hours, your eyes were barely blinked, fixed a point on the board with a sullen look, letting you think by yourself about the situation you put yourself in. However, that time enabled you to think straight and calmly, not under the pressure of your twisted emotions.

When you saw everyone standing up, realizing that the class was eventually over, your eyes drifted to your right side, staring at the onyx hair man sitting beside you; still browsing through his phone and not paying attention to anything else. A light sigh passed though your lips, and you decided that it was better to get to your feet rather than waiting for him –he would follow anyway. Once you were at the door, patiently waiting in the line to exit the room behind the other students, you felt his presence in your back, way too close to your taste –which made you roll your eyes and clench you jaw discreetly.

“I want to go home, I’m not feeling well”, you stressed when you were finally out of the auditorium, following the path that lead outside, to the parking lot.

“Are you sure? I thought you wanted to keep going to your classes?”, he stammered weirdly, not understanding your sudden change of mind.

“Yes. But I’m not feeling well so I want to go home”, you said, raising your eyes to your left to look at him. You narrowed your eyes when you noticed his frowned eyebrows and annoyed gaze, but you didn’t say anything about it, preferring to walk calmly instead.

“Well Boss told me to escort you to all your classes, I don’t think that it is a good id-“

“I don’t care”, you cut him off straightly, “If I want to go home, I will, and you will bring me back. Yoongi won’t mind, I think he’d rather have me home than here. So we’re going home”, you commanded harshly as you adjust your bag on your shoulder.

“Sure”, he hissed, obviously irritated by your attitude. He probably wasn’t excepting you to be so bold; after all, he’s always seen you kind of quiet, and reserved in the back, behind Yoongi. He sighed loudly –showing you his annoyance- when you stopped by the restrooms, walking inside without warning him. You weren’t going easy on him, and he wasn’t prepared to that. He thought you would be a –maybe blah- lamb. How wrong he was.

You left the lavatory a few minutes after, only to find him run his fingers on his phone, vehemently typing something. He surely didn’t see you, because when you stood by his side, peaking a sight over his shoulder to read what he was so heartedly writing, he flinched, only allowing to see a brief “it won’t be easy” written.

“Who are you texting?”, you asked with one raised eyebrow, letting a flat feeling coming from your eyes.

“None of business”, he quickly replied, messily burying his phone in his pocket. “Let’s go”, he suggested, already walking outside the massive building, not waiting for you. You studied the situation for a moment, weighting up the pros and cons, and running away would be far less safe than letting him drive you home, so you decided to follow him, thinking that it wasn’t an option for the moment –no matter how much you didn’t trust him at all now, if you wanted to put the best luck to your side, you had to go with him.


[10:41] You : I’m home, I wasn’t feeling well. Please come home as soon as you can, I need to talk to you.

You stared at your phone for a few seconds after sending the text, hopelessly waiting for an immediate reply –which you knew you wouldn’t have, so you threw your phone on the bed, laying your head next to it on the cold layers of your duvet. You sighed, contemplating the white ceiling with tired eyes, exhaustedly analysing your current situation. You were basically forced to remain home, at least until things calmed down, and you didn’t like that. But the most annoying part of it was that Tae Hwan guy. Ever since he drove you back home, he had kept a close eye on you, only leaving you alone when you told him that you had to poo, and just thinking about it made you roll your eyes to the back of your head.

However, a light buzz above your ears detached you from your thinking. You smiled the second you understood Yoongi had replied, for once, almost right after your message.

[10:45] Yoon’ 👀💞 : I’ll try. He called me and I told him to stay outside from now on (he told me he followed you inside, but I think you’d rather be alone). Stay safe, and please princess, just do not run away or something like that, please.

[10:45] You : I would never do that

[10:46] Yoon’ 👀💞 : as if you didn’t already think about the idea. Do you think I don’t know you?

You giggled when you saw his reply, shifting on your bed to eventually land of your stomach, your foot still dangling from the edge of the mattress. You smirked as you thought about what he just wrote; he just knew you too well.

[10:47] You : I don’t know what you’re talking about Yoongi.

[10:47] You : anyway, work fast and come home fast please.

[10:49] Yoon’ 👀💞 : Ok. I left some chocolate in the kitchen. See you tonight angel.

[10:50] You : Thank you!! See you tonight Yoon.


You spent your day home, as requested by your boyfriend, and you couldn’t say that you did much –homework, a hundred pages of The Waves by Virginia Woolf and food. And now that it was around seven in the evening, you couldn’t help but be bored in your room, rolling your body on the bed as you tried to find a comfortable position to read the rest of the book you started this afternoon. Yet, unlike earlier in the day, you couldn’t concentrate on the black ink wisely placed on the leaf of the book, too lost in your own thoughts.

Your mind was wandering somewhere else the moment you realized that you haven’t seen Tae Hwan. Yes, he was supposed to wait outside, yes, you didn’t want to see him or talk to him, yes, you were better alone; but he was your bodyguard, wasn’t he supposed to check on you, at least once? You definitely didn’t like him, and your anger was fuelled by your hunger, which made you hate him even more.

Listening to your growling stomach, you decided that you had to eat, and stood beside your bed, stretching your arms as a long yawn passed by your lips. After waking yourself up, you let your feet guide you to the bedroom door, lazily dragging your frame out of the room. But just when you finally opened the door, the small light in your room switched off on its own, without your help. You narrowed your eyes at the lamp, trying to turn on the lights again. Yet, after a few flicks, you realized that there was a power outage; however, it was not possible. Even if there was one, the courant was supposed to come back ten seconds after with the emergency electric generator.

The ten seconds definitely passed; it was probably around 30 seconds now.

You looked at the doorknob, your fingers still wrapped around –ready to pull it down to open the door. You thought about it, something must be on. The power couldn’t be cut this long, you were sure of it. Something was definitely happening. You groaned lightly in the darkness of the room, deciding to eventually lock your door quickly. You rushed to your bed, rapidly unlocking your phone to call Yoongi.

Your phone still against your ear, you ran to your desk, difficultly holding the chair to put it by the door; aiming to block any insider for a moment -if they tried to force themselves in. Just when you walked to your wardrobe, Yoongi voicemail echoed in the speakers of the phone, and you let out another groan as you started to feel some stress growing inside your stomach, forming a painful pit. You put your phone down and took an old backpack, throwing inside a few clothes, and –of course- the secret emergency kit that Yoongi hid, “just in case”.

It wasn’t just a simple emergency kit: inside seated some medicine, plaster and water, but above all a charged gun, 2 charges of weapon supplies and two knifes. You gulped as you took the main weapon in your hands, taking a long breath in before sliding between the skin of your back and the belt you were currently wearing. You throw the rest of the kit inside your bag, zipping it fast before standing on your feet again, putting an old leather jeans jacket on and some very used sneakers. You sighed again, trying to build up some courage.

You took your phone in your hands again, violently tapping your fingers on it as you directed your body to the bathroom adjacent to your bedroom.

[19:23] You: The power went out more than 10 seconds.

[19:23] You: I’m sure something is happening.

In the middle of your third message, your fingers froze on the screen of your phone when you heard some footsteps in the stairs, no matter how lightly they hit the marble steps, making you gasp silently. You covered your mouth with your palm, trying to muffle the noises you weren’t even making in the first place, just to reassure yourself. You felt your heart race incredibly fast, almost trying to get out of your chest. The pit in your stomach felt heavier, and your eyes became watery. You were panicking. Someone was here for you for real, they were here to get you. You had to get out of the room now.

You got a hold of yourself just when the noise reached the corridor. After shaking your head, implicitly waking your mind in the process, and close the bathroom door quietly after entering it in only seconds. Rapidly, you rushed silently to the sinks, opening the cupboards to take some large towels, tying them by the corners. After making sure they were tied and approximatively secured, you walked to the big window that stood right beside your shower, and opened it the most quietly way possible, making sure you made not even a single noise.

You felt the light cold breeze caress the skin of your cheeks and you shivered, both from the cold and the fear of being caught by the kidnappers. You turned your head when you heard the sound of someone trying to open the bedroom door, some groans leaving their mouth when they didn’t manage to –because of the chair you placed here beforehand, and you thanked yourself for this idea.. A shaky sigh left your mouth as you tried to block the improvised rope in the coin of the window, letting the rest of the thread fall down messily along the wall of the house. The sound of the heavy sound of the chair crushing down the floor startled you, and it was all you needed to eventually pass through the hole, tugging at the weak towels to land down on the grass in weak seconds.

You lifted your head up, gazing the window, analysing if you could take the long cord off. However, your reflexion was suddenly stopped in its tracks when you saw a small beam lighting the room, meaning that at least one person managed to break in. Realizing that you probably couldn’t escape from them if you didn’t run right away, you took the gun previously stuck in your jeans and began to run to the back of the garden, knowing there was a hidden door that would lead you on another main road. It was the only solution you could think of.

So you ran, your feet hitting the floor heavily, and your breath coming out puffed and scared as your fingers wrapped themselves tighter around the metallic weapon. Yet, when you finally reach the dreamy spot, after running about ten or so meters with a tumbling body, you froze at the sight before you; a devilishly smirking Tae Hwan with horribly piercing eyes. You eyed him for a few seconds, before weakly holding your revolver up, targeting him with shaking hands –earning an ironic laugh from the devil embodied standing right in front of you.

“What are you doing?”, he asked, the annoying smirk sill plastered on his face that made you want to puke.

“I should ask you the same question”, you stated, shifting your body slightly to the right to have a better sight of him, who was still masked in the darkness provided by the wall, hiding from the moonlight.

“You’re smart enough sweetheart, you know why I’m here”, he chuckled, taking some steps to close some distance between you two, only for you to step back at the same moment, not wanting to condone this very little space.

“I knew I couldn’t trust your fucking ass, dammit”, you hissed, “What are you going to do, asshole?”, you asked, not daring to move your gaze from him to catch each of his future actions. You felt some kind of relief knowing that you were right in the end, but, the pit in your stomach made you want to faint from the stress, fear and insecurity you were currently in.

“I?”, he questioned, pouting his lips and dramatically pointing his index finger at himself as if your question didn’t make sense to him, obviously mocking you. “I am not going to do anything”, he laughed crazily, hitting his knee in the process. You looked at the mad man, dumbfounded at the sight in front of your eyes; he was genuinely laughing at his own reply, and it scared the shit out of you.

“Why are you laughing?”, you asked –more to yourself than to him-, feeling your arms weaken from holding the gun. Your eyes widened when he suddenly stopped, standing straight on his feet again, his facial features weirdly harsh now. “I am not going to do anything, but believe me, you’re going to suffer”.

And just when he finished his sentence, and as you felt a light buzz in your pocket, strong arms locked themselves around you from your behind, making you lose the grip you had on your weapon and forbidding you to make any move. You saw Tae Hwan moving closer, now standing just right in front of you. You witnessed how hard his traits were, how dark his gaze was, and your eyes became watery, tears starting to form in the corner of your eyes. Yet, when something smooth brushed on the skin of your nose and on your lips, your vision becoming blurry, and before everything became black, you could see his lips moved slowly and slyly, and heard his threat.

“Believe me, you’re going to suffer for all the shits your fucking boyfriend did to us”.


please feedback on how you see the rest of the story please ! Otherwise it will be so angsty you won’t survivre THE PLOT TWIST IS RIGHT HERE PLEASE DO FEEDBACK! THANK YOU FOR READING

Natural Bonds

Originally posted by kimthwriter

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader
Genre: Fluff, smut
Summary&A/N: You set out to share a place close to your heart with Taehyung. Together, you make it even more special. Dedicated to any other country girls who sometimes feel a little left out in the fandom.
Word Count: 4.3K


Home can be different for everyone. For some, it’s a physical place. For others, it’s a person. You are one of the lucky ones who have both. That both fit so flawlessly together is a gift unlike any other.

From the first time you’d brought Taehyung back to your childhood home, he fit like he belonged here as much as you. He charmed your family flawlessly just as they did him. Mutual politeness rapidly gave way to the same teasing warmth you grew up with. It matched him perfectly. Now they always ask when you’ll be bringing him back.

Keep reading

Mick to Sam in 12x14: We’re going to exterminate every last vampire in America.
Sam: *is fine with it*

Mick to Sam and Dean in 12x16: We rooted them out, bitten and pureblood alike.
Sam: Wait a second. You killed them all? Even the ones that weren’t hurting anyone?

So is Sam just slow on the uptake, or is he protesting now just to mollify Dean?

anonymous asked:

hurricane during a beach trip au~?

“Oh god,” Lydia cringes beside Stiles, and he looks up from where he’s arranging their bags in the trunk, glances over her shoulder.  

“What? Are Scott and Allison making gross, sappy—” he trails off as his eyes land on Derek, wearing board shorts and flip flops. 

Derek has feet. 

Nice, perhaps slightly over excessively hairy toes. 

Toe nails. 

Two years of frat boys at college has still not adequately prepared Stiles for the sight of Derek Hale wearing flip flops. And board shorts. Black ones, of course— heaven forbid he actually deviate too much from the norm— but also a bright red vest that clings to his waist, and shows off his arms and, oh Jesus. 

Christ,” he blurts out. 

“I know,” Lydia agrees, for no doubt totally different reasons. “What a mess.”

Of course, she’s worried about his apparel for its style related reasons. Not because Derek looks hot like the burning sun, and Stiles might have a meltdown before lunch.

Derek glowers across at them, “What. What are you looking at?”

“Shins,” Stiles says faintly, and then shakes himself when Derek arches an eyebrow and Lydia turns to stare at him incredulously. “I mean, I just— have never seen your uh, calves before.”

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Oh how the gentle wind,

Beckons through the leaves,

As autumn colors fall.


So, uhmm, @mollifiable is now my girlfriend?

We had our first official date tonight: we started a new tradition I want to keep of watching the wonderful Over the Garden Wall on Halloween. She woke up at some ungodly hour in her time zone to imagine pumpkin-spice-flavored hand holding with me as we watched it together and I sang the songs and she drew this adorable doodle, and just…-

It’s been so long since I’ve felt this way.
I’d forgotten I still could.

I had a lovely evening.

“And that’s a rock fact!”