nearly almost dead but not quite!

BOI let’s talk about Neil “rabbit” Josten and Andrew “never lets his guard down” Minyard and how they inexplicably forget the rest of the world is a thing when they’re together???? Like 

  • everyone knows better than to interrupt their intense eye contact. They’ll stare at each other for minutes at a time and matt’s just standing there off to the side, waiting for their bizarre silent convo to wind down. Neil’s the first to look away. 
    • “Oh, how long have you been there, matt?“ 
    • "Just a few seconds don’t worry" 
  • even when they’re not staring at each other, they’re both completely useless if one is looking. Neil focuses his entire attention on Andrew when the sun hits him just right and Kevin sighs and closes the notebook of exy plays they’d been discussing. Andrew is not-watching Neil staring at him, Neil is probably mentally composing a sonnet about Andrew’s shoulders or arms or pinky finger, and Kevin starts talking about Quebec, potato salad, and cello music because anything he says Neil will never be able to remember 
  • they’re not much for PDA but also when the locker room is empty after a game, they might (always) make out against the lockers and sometimes they don’t remember that one freshman who was getting dressed in the showers and he squeaks in surprise when he walks in on them but they’re too wrapped up in each other to notice (or care) 
  • dan is sure she could blow an air horn next to their ears, but if they’re sharing a cigarette, they wouldn’t even flinch. Nearly every day after practice while they wait for Kevin to finish up, Neil and Andrew share a cigarette in the shade provided by the court’s walls. They stand not quite close enough to touch but the space between them is almost nonexistent, and take turns smoking while gazing meaningfully at each other. Or Andrew will smoke and Neil will steal his cigarette and he’ll steal it back and on and on until the thing is burned down to the filter. 
    • Nicky swears he caught them shotgunning smoke but his phone was "dead” at the time and without visual evidence he couldn’t cash in the prize money.
    •  He’s still bitter about it. 
  • one time they halted an entire game for a full minute because some asswipe had growled “Wesninski” at Neil and Neil got tripped up and twisted his ankle.
    • the combination of panic from hearing his old name and panic about not being able to play kept him on the court floor and Andrew was at his side in an instant. He ignored the rest of the players, the refs, and Coach in favor of kneeling on the ground and pressing his forehead to Neil’s. They whispered to each other for a full half a minute before the panic left Neil’s eyes and Andrew was content to sit back. 
    • Neil at least had the decency to look sheepish when he saw the dozen people crowded around them, staring at him with varying amounts of confusion and annoyance.
    • Andrew did not.
The Sexual Escapades of the Well-Informed Pureblood, Engaged to the Randy Prat Who Lived - Ch.20

Soooo….Harry was being shifty as fuck, eh? Why didn’t he tell Draco about the promotion offer? That’s, um, kind of what this chapter is all about. And it…doesn’t end well.

You guys aren’t going to like @bixgirl1 and me very much for these next few chapters. We’re sorry, okay?! We can’t help but fuck things up every once in a while cause we’re both extra AF and we need help or something.

(Prev. Book)

(Engaged - Masterlist)


Chapter Twenty: Half-burnt Letters and Sudden Conclusions

Keep reading

Critical Role—20 years later

Imagine, if you will, a few years from now in reality and maybe a few decades from now in Exandria—when the Critical Role gang has already started (and is well into) their new campaign:

Imagine the new party is off on an adventure somewhere deep, deep within the Vesper Timberlands or maybe the Alabaster Sierras—some remote place far away from civilization—when they stumble across an odd looking cave not unlike the one Vex and Keyleth encountered in the Feywild with the giant bear spirit. Just like that cave, it looks carved and manmade rather than natural, and it’s surrounded by piles upon mountainous piles of miscellaneous items left as offerings for whatever dwells within.

And of course they investigate it—because these might be new characters, but do our beloved Critical Role cast members ever learn to leave well enough alone? 

So curiosity gets the best of them and they investigate the cave, only to be attacked by the powerful individual within—the one the offerings outside were undoubtedly left for. It’s a harrowing fight that they nearly lose, barely emerging with their lives, but somehow they managed and now the vast piles of loot are theirs for the taking. 

Outside the cave there is mostly junk—broken furniture, rusty armor and blades, assorted knick-knacks. It seems strange. Where did all of this useless garbage come from? But inside the cave, things get more curious.

The interior looks as though it was crudely carved out and expanded from perhaps a smaller cave. It’s dark and dusty and uninviting, but what catches their eye is another small assortment of junk piles at the cave’s center.

The first pile they approach is quite unlike what they found outside. It’s a small mountain of (mostly) dead flowers, withered away, cracked and crumbling. Toward the top are a handful of fresher flowers in varying degrees of decay, the most lively of which are positively beautiful in their vibrant colors.

The next pile is even more strange. It’s smaller and mostly black ash scattered among a few expensive looking candle sticks and assorted, rusty tools. There’s some clothing in there that was once likely very fine but are now tattered and dirtied by the ash and a small handful of ruined books.

Next is a pile of daggers. Just straight up hundreds of daggers and… feathers? Specifically only black feathers and a few bird skulls. A couple piles of cloth that look like cloaks too.

By now, they realize whats happening, and so when they look at the next pile, they don’t touch it, even though it is clearly the most valuable section of this unique hoard. Piles of gold and platinum and gemstones and expensive jewelry and… brooms? There’s arrows, too—and a smaller, nearly attached pile of furs and crudely carved wooden statuettes of bears. 

But there are two more piles—one made up almost entirely of broken instruments and fine paintings and… women’s undergarments—and another consisting of several fine weapons, mostly maces, and many, many small statues and symbols of the goddess Sarenrae. The latter has a distinct indent in it—a makeshift bed of a sort.

Outside, the dweller of this cave—a lone emaciated goliath with an odd beard—lays dead where the party slayed him. He attacked them in a blind rage; he hadn’t quite seemed in his right mind. At the time they hadn’t understood what the crazed man had meant when he bellowed, “You won’t take them from me again.”

They end the stream 2 hours early because everyone can’t stop crying and cursing at Matt. I’m crying too.

Ah Florida: I’ve got a twenty attachment Swiss Army knife and a lighter in my purse, kata sticks in my bed frame for easy reach in case of a break in, and I’ve known where my grandma keeps her smith and Wesson since I was seven (looking back, I’m pretty sure she was drunk when she showed me).
Also, gators. They’ve eaten some neighbourhood dogs, so I like to take my bow and arrow and check the traps (unfortunately, they haven’t yet been there to blow off steam by sticking full of arrows when I’ve been home). One time my neighbours/ close family friends went gator hunting and my sis and their daughter were using one of the corpses as a seat and it wasn’t quite as dead as we thought (like some near death or slightly post death nervous system convulsions) so scary as fuck lol.

I was babysitting my little brother when a snake fell down our chimney and I had to catch it in a Tupperware container.

Was visiting the ocean once when we had to hold the dog almost constrictingly tight while boating to keep her from falling off and being eaten by wild dolphins that were right under our boat.

It is totally valid to still have outside physical education classes at nearly 40 degrees Celsius and 70 percent humidity.

Bringing your bikes into the dorm room at the university so they won’t rust in the oncoming hurricane. Otherwise completely ignoring that hurricane while playing cards against humanity with your roommates.


So yes, Florida stereotypes are not exaggerated. We are the Australia of America (although not nearly as bad; your chance of death from wild animals is rather lower here).

Imagine Dark taking over Mark for the first time

“Mark?” You walk into the recording room. “Mark, are you okay? I heard a-”

A strong hand wraps around your throat, nearly choking the life out of it. You look up and see… Mark? He’s impossible to focus on, like trying to watch a dead channel. When the being that isn’t quite Mark sees your face, his grip relaxes on your throat, and his hand slides up to tilt your chin to look him in the eye.

“Oh, the poor thing doesn’t even know who I am, do you?” He asks, almost sympathetically. He tilts his head to the side and gives you a predatory smile. “Don’t worry. We’re going to get to know each other very well, you and I.”

Originally posted by glittchiplier

(Not my art, BTW)

Sally is not a bad character. The stupidest and by far the most popular reason I’ve heard for disliking her is literally just because people prefer Sonamy. 

For the love of Sega, get over it

I don’t hate Amy because I think that Sonamy is awful. She’s a good character too, but is overhyped just for the sake of the Sonamy supporters. Some people literally want Sally dead, simply because she’s “in the way of Sonamy”, even though that couple is never going to happen anyway.

Look, I understand that some people really like this ship, and I admit it- in certain canons (Sonic Boom), this ship is really cute and potentially canon. But in the games, even where Sally doesn’t exist, it’s just not happening.

And yet…

Let’s face it, Amy is not a good match for Sonic, at least not in the Archie comics canon. She is clingy, she is unhealthy in her adoration for him, and above all…

SHE IS TWELVE.

And Sonic is fifteen.

Look me in the eye and tell me that’s okay. 

Besides, Sonic obviously isn’t attracted to her in a romantic way, as shown in his discomfort towards her advances. 

At most, I see him viewing her as a little sister; someone he cares about and wants to protect, but will never be attracted to romantically or (chaos forbid) sexually. That is disgusting, not to mention very one-sided on Amy’s part.

On the flip side, however, we have Sonic and Sally. 

Not only is this a mutual, healthy, and loving couple who care deeply for each other, but it’s also canon. Time and time again, we haven’t just been teased with a few hinted Sonally tidbits here and there, but it’s been shown way more than once that these two are together.

These two complete each other. Sally keeps Sonic down to earth, and in return Sonic helps Sally have a little fun in the stress-filled and very dangerous world they live in, in the war they’ve been fighting to end since they were kids.

That’s not to say they haven’t had their moments. How could anyone forget ‘The Slap’?

Yeah, thanks a lot, Penders.

This is actually a major reason that people hate her and frankly, it’s also one of the lamest. Let’s look at the facts: Sally doesn’t actually have all that many people she really and truly loves. Sonic is one of those few and she’s nearly lost him quite a few times. She thought he was dead for a year, for Pete’s sake. So when he chose to fight Robotnik instead of being with her, she got a little (okay, A LOT) short with him. I’ll admit, slapping him and calling him “selfish” was a bit much, but she almost lost him to being “reckless?” and there he went being “reckless” again. Wouldn’t you lose your temper with him, too?

But Sonic understands this, and they eventually get back together, even with all the problems they face on a daily basis. Sally even turned down Monkey Khan because of her continued love for Sonic. That’s devotion, if I’ve ever seen it.

And need I mention the fact that they got married?

Canon.

Sonally is not only an amazing pairing, it’s also been confirmed over and over again. So next time you see someone bashing these two in favor of Sonamy, tell them what I just told you. Share the love~

Alright, I’ve gotten 4 prompts asking me to hurt the Fake Chop counterpart of this poor guy. One day, if I ever become famous for something, these stories are going to come back to haunt me. Until then, thanks for the prompts :)


Aleks crashes through the bathroom door, arm held tightly at his side, calling over his shoulder, “Just gotta take a piss!”

He shuts the door behind him, locking it for good measure, and slowly pulls his arm away. His jacket sticks to him when he tries shrugging it off, and he bites his cheek to keep from crying out when he manages to get his arm free.

He winces when he sees the wound, hissing when he lightly touches it. They’d been in a hurry trying to avoid the LSPD, so he’s not sure how he did it, but whatever he cut his arm on it hurt like a bitch.

Aleks moves towards the sink, holding his arm out in front of him, still looking at the cut. It’s jagged, running from just below his wrist to just short of the crook in his arm. He probably needs stitches, but they can’t exactly show up at a hospital. Not with the whole being wanted by most of the law enforcement in this godforsaken city. And he’d ask Fake AH who they use for their medical issues, but Geoff stopped answering his calls after the third drunken prank call.

He figures he’ll be fine if he disinfects it and keeps a close eye on it over the next few days. He’s had worse wounds. Hell, James nearly blew him up a few weeks ago. This is nothing.

He makes quick work cleaning his wound and uses half a box of band aids to cover it up. Making a mental note to buy some gauze later, he quickly cleans up his bloody mess, puts his jacket back on, and returns to his crew.


He mostly forgets about the wound over the next few days. Sometimes he’ll knock it against something and has to try really hard not to make a sound. Other times he’ll notice spots of blood on his shirt sleeves and have to excuse himself to go check it out, but it’s not really bothering him so for the most part he ignores it.

His arm wakes him up Tuesday morning, pain severe enough that he hisses before his eyes are even open.  He sits up on his couch, cursing himself for passing out on it, and looks down at his arm.

The gauze is stained pink, and he can feel the heat radiating off it through the bandage. Carefully, he peels the gauze away, wincing when it pulls on his wound, cursing under his breath when he gets his first glimpse of it.

It has a yellow film over it, the edges around it a startling red, and it’s even hotter with the bandage off. He hovers his fingers over it, afraid to touch it, muttering, “Fuck.”

Aleks reaches for his phone, scrolling through his contacts, but he’s not sure who to call. He puts his phone back on his nightstand, getting off his couch, and staggers down the hall to his bathroom.

He digs through his medicine cabinet, finding a mostly empty container of Neosporin and some Mickey Mouse band aids. He places both on the edge of his sink, turning the hot water on, and attempts to clean out the wound with the same hand soap he uses for almost everything.

It hurts, his entire body tensing up in pain, and he gasps involuntarily. He curls the hand on his uninjured side into a fist, hitting his thigh, giving up. He shuts the water off, grabs for the towel hanging over his shower’s curtain rod, and pats it dry.

He throws the towel on the floor, reaching for the band aids, knowing they’re not going to do much good but he has no more gauze and this is all he has to work with; beggars really cannot be choosers at this point.

His work is shoddy at best, looks more like a child playing doctor than a grown adult, but it’ll have to do. He leaves his mess, returning to his living room. He picks up his phone to check the time, finds he has three missed texts from James, and rolls his eyes when he reads the first one.

Important. Get to my place. DON’T BE LATE.

The second one is just as cryptic, as is the third, and he scoffs at the messages before texting back: How the fuck am I not supposed to be late if I don’t even have a time, asshole.

James sends back three middle finger emojis and Aleks sighs, stashing his phone in his back pocket and picking up his jacket off the floor. He ignores the flair of pain that jolts up his arm when he puts his coat on, grabs his keys off his counter, and leaves his apartment.


“ALEKSANDR!” A hand slaps down right in front of Aleks, startling him, and he looks up at James.

“What?” he snaps, irritated, and James’ eyes narrow.

“Are you listening?”

“Yeah, dude, you look like a zombie,” Trevor comments, his face twitching into a nervous smile.

“I do not.” He probably did; the room is freezing, he keeps spacing out, and he feels like shit, but he could not have Trevor, of all people, be right. Not about this. Or anything. But mostly this.

“I am here, explaining the next big heist, and you’re too busy staring at the table like an asshole,” James complains, gesturing to a very complicated looking, hand drawn graph hanging from a dilapidated chalk board. “I spent hours on this!”

“He spent twenty minutes on it,” Brett corrects, walking into the room, eyebrows furrowing when he notices Aleks. “Shit, dude, you look half dead.”

“That’s what I said!” Trevor exclaims, equal parts excited and concerned. “You’re not dying, are you?”

Aleks sighs, shaking his head. “No. I am not dying.”

“You sure?” Brett crosses the room, trying to rest the back of his hand against Aleks’ forehead, but Aleks dodges him, rolling away in his chair.

“Dude, stop, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” Brett walks towards him, but Aleks jumps up, putting his chair between them.

“Stay away from me.” He raises his uninjured arm, holding his hand out, ignoring the way the room tilts around him, taking a step back. “I’m serious, just stay… away…”

“Holy shit, he’s gonna faint!” James yells, and Aleks isn’t sure whether he’s excited about this or worried, but before he can ask his legs give out and he collapses to the floor.


“Not dying, my ass.” Are the first words he hears followed by indecipherable grumbling.

“You think Burnie’ll have to cut off his arm?” A new voice asks, cutting off the first one, and someone sighs, really loud.

“Trevor, stop asking that,” a third, very tired voice says. “And no. Burnie said he shouldn’t lose his arm.”

“He could have,” the first voice mutters, sounding worried. Trying to be funny, not exactly doing a great job, the speaker adds, “Could have used it as a weapon or something.”

“Nobody is using Aleks’ arm as a weapon.”

“What are you assholes talking about?” A fourth voice demands, and Aleks hears footsteps approach him, and winces when one of his eyelids is lifted and a bright light is shined in it.

“Just as I suspected,” the same voice said, shining his light in the other eye. “He’s awake.”

Damn, Aleks thinks, not wanting to wake up just yet, but knowing he has to; maybe he can ask whoever patched him up for another dose of whatever he’s on; help with the inevitable repercussions.

“Wake the fuck up,” the first voice shouts, inches from his face, and Aleks uses his uninjured arm to smack whoever they are in the face. “Fucker!”

He opens his eyes, watching the blurry ceiling slowly start to come into focus, tilting his head to see who is standing above him; rolling his eyes when he sees James holding his face, looking aghast.

“I cannot believe you hit me,” James says, shaking his head. “After everything I’ve been through over the past two days. My friend nearly died!”

Aleks lifts his hands, flipping James off, looking away from him before he can respond. His gaze settles on Brett, who looks like he hasn’t slept in days, and he says, “I figured I could handle it.”

“You nearly died,” Brett says softly, blinking slowly, body tense. “Do you know what would have happened if you did?”

“You’d find a new crew member?” Aleks shrugs, only half joking, grunting when Brett punches his uninjured arm.

“You’d be dead,” he says, rubbing the back of his head.

“Okay, first, please don’t punch my patients,” Burnie interrupts the moment, putting himself in between Aleks and Brett. “And, second, can this wait? He did almost die.”

“If you insist. You’re the doctor after all.” Brett mutters something about dead people, but Aleks doesn’t quite catch what he says exactly, and an awkward silence settles over the room.

“Where are we anyway?” Aleks asks after a beat, looking around the room. It’s sparsely decorated, with a few medical supplies in the corner and a crappy black and white TV sitting on a dresser that has seen better days. The lighting isn’t too bad, a yellow glow that makes everything feel a little homey, and it’s not exactly freezing in here; as places go, Aleks has stayed in worse.

“Burnie’s house,” Trevor responds before anyone else, sitting on the edge of Aleks’ bed. “Though you were at the morgue first. Geoff told us what to do when Brett called.”

“You sure he’s not going to die?” Brett looks over at Burnie, trying to remain stoic but he can’t quite keep the concern out of his voice.

“Barring any complications, he’ll be fine.”

Brett’s gaze settles on Aleks again and he says, “Good. That’s good.”

“Please don’t hug me.”

“Fuck off.”

It’s probably the best hug he’s ever had, but he will never tell Brett.


Was the ending too fluffy??? I think the ending was too fluffy.

anonymous asked:

It seems like Kirumi is one of the savviest culprits to date. She revealed nothing during the investigation that could tie the crime to her, and the main piece of evidence linking her to the crime could have come from either of the two other main suspects. Really seems like it's the hardest case to solve pre-trial since Mikan, and in that trial, we specifically weren't shown Ibuki's body. (Komaeda was BS, but we could deduce a perfect locked room and Nanami's role)

She really is savvy, to be honest! I’ve thought so for a while now, but Chapter 2 of ndrv3 is likely one of the cases in which the culprit had the highest chance of getting away with it. Her plan was absolutely brilliant, she was extremely careful, and she’s a masterful actress, betraying almost nothing by her reactions until very late into the trial and capable of seeming sincere and heartfelt, even shedding tears on cue.

Really, if it weren’t for the rules of the mystery genre itself (i.e. “mysteries have to be solvable for the reader because clues have to be presented”), then realistically speaking she wouldn’t have left anything behind, not even the tire or the piece of fabric from her glove. The tire and fabric are there because the mystery would be entirely unsolvable and unfair without them.

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anonymous asked:

okay but little dickie drawing pictures for bruce and bruce hanging every one of them up in his office. He still can't tell what half of them are.

dick scribbles little comics on napkins and bits of paper left behind from bruce’s egineering projects, and they’re largely indecipherable. the one that is particularly interesting is the one that is just a really, really tiny doodle of batman with really, really long ears and the caption, “batman too far left side,” which bruce studies for an hour before giving up on parsing out the meaning. bruce keeps the little comics in a drawer in his big fancy desk in the study, and no one gets to open that drawer because batman doesn’t have feelings

dick finds them years later and ends up laughing his ass off at his younger self, who was also convinced extermination was animal abuse and that horse and buggy was the coolest way to travel (bonus: this is when bruce is nearly almost dead but not quite)

frogyjones  asked:

I finally understand your little slogan on your profile. I was watching gravity falls and I saw dipper watching the TV thing and I heard it say "nearly almost dead but not quite ".

Heck yeah you did it you solved the mysteryyy

change (pt. 2)

Title: change

Pairing: Seokjin/Reader

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Smut.

Description: One ordinary night, your friend Seokjin approaches you with a surprising matter and a rather unorthodox solution.

PART 1  PART 2  PART 3


Originally posted by beagletae

You rolled onto your back, staring at blankly at your bedroom ceiling, the faint blue glow of your alarm clock hovering closely in your peripheral vision. It was midnight. You certainly felt tired, though for some reason you couldn’t sleep. Lips stretching into a yawn, you grabbed your phone from the charging dock atop your beside table, thumbing in your passcode.

As expected, you had zero messages.

The only person who really contacted you was your mother, but even she had been getting busier as of late. You grudgingly sat up, hugging your knees to your chest as you scrolled lazily through tumblr. Most of the blogs you followed were either aesthetic or photography-based, but there was one which revolved around something else.

A guilty pleasure of sorts.

You kept your eyes open for a little longer than was comfortable, having inadvertently stumbled upon a photo of him.

Of Seokjin.

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Lazy Morning - Joji Miller Imagine

You wake up to a dim, quiet bedroom, Joji’s weight still heavy and solid beside you. He’s fast a sleep, sprawled out in bed and practically dead to the world, one arm slung loosely across your stomach. You smile a little, not quite ready to get out of bed even though it’s almost ten o’clock, and cuddle against Joji, pulling the covers up around the both of you for warmth.

“‘Morning,” he mumbles, pulling you closer. Maybe he wasn’t sleeping after all.

“‘Morning, baby,” you murmur back, nearly sighing in content out loud when Joji pulls you against his chest and kisses the top of your head. “Want me to go make some coffee?”

“What?” Joji mumbles, practically still half asleep. You giggle and shake your head, goosebumps prickling on your skin when Joji begins to run his hand up and down your back in slow, lazy strokes.

“Never mind, baby,” you soothe, running your hand through his hair. Joji cuddles against your touch, a little noise of content escaping him.

You tuck into Joji’s chest and just let him hold you, knowing good and well that it’s probably time the both of you got out of bed. But neither of you have anything to do today, so what does it matter? One lazy morning never hurt anybody.

title: how to survive a flight to australia

genre: fluff ??¿? v little angst

pairing: phan lmao

summary: inspired by “will dan and phil survive australia?”
in which dan suffers through horror in the form of planes, noise, and other people. but hey, at least he’s in it with phil

warnings: mentions of anxiety, mentions of airplanes, swearing and too many flight metaphors you’re welcome

words: 1.3k

beta: @wolfstarbaby my actual saviour ilysm

excerpt: “Just try to actually sleep this time,” Phil suggests.
“I don’t think you understand that I did try, Phil, it’s just that a baby two rows behind us kept screaming like it was being murdered.”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
“Yeah, well, you’re fucking deaf.”

- - - - - - - -

Dan aches to lean his head on Phil’s shoulder.

He resists. Instead he shifts his weight onto his right leg, stifling a whimper when his knee cracks uncomfortably.

They’re in line for the passport control, having just gotten off a plane to Hong Kong about two hours ago. A 12 hour flight, and another one of that duration lies ahead of them.

The prospect makes Dan want to cry. His legs and back are hurting from the cramped space and the too-small seat on the Asian airline company’s plane, and he’s anxious and gross and so tired.

Phil stood next to him seems impossibly unbothered by the impending horror.

His glasses are askew on his nose, his t-shirt is wrinkled but probably less disgustingly sticky than Dan’s sweatshirt (“It might be chilly on the plane, Phil, and unlike you I don’t want to freeze to death before we even get there”), and he’s playing angry birds on his phone.

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Sunstone “Kleinsche”

ALLEGIANCE: Rogue (”Whoever’s paying!”)

WEAPON: Shield

DESCRIPTION:
Kleinsche is the last Sunstone to be made by the Diamonds, and as such, the youngest Sunstone outside of the Saffron Circle. Her facet consisted of roughly a dozen Gems, made for the Feuerzahn sunstones. Despite this formidable title, Kleinsche was consistenly unnoticed and outshined by the rest of her facet and her other fellow Ralafrions. The Alerion that trained her was more restrictive and demanding of her Ralaferions and Ebaserions than the rest of the Troupe, even when one takes into account the fact that the Feuerzahn have much harsher training than any other troupe. Due to this treatment combined with the fact that she was never even considered for promotion past Ralaferion, Kleinsche developed a deep inferiority complex.

Her saving grace, as it turned out, was due to the fact that she was more adept at fighting than dancing. Kleinsche cracked (metaphorically) under the pressure of constant overshadowing and lack of recognition, and attacked her Alerion in the middle of practice. The confrontation ended with the Alerion being poofed and held safe with the rest of the troupe, and Kleinsche abandoning the Feuerzahn to go rogue and fight her own path. When she returned, nothing remained of her once radiant Troupe, except a dead volcano and steaming shards.

Kleinsche’s dancer origins would come as a shock to almost all that know her. She’s achieved a nigh-legendary status in the criminal underground for her brutality and excellence in missions. She goes into a nearly manic frenzy when confronted with a fight, and her pyrokinesis combined with her shield bashing have left her with quite the bloody reputation. But merely pushing aside the angry outer shell will portray a deeply insecure and broken Gem. Kleinsche is liable to either break down or fly into a burning frenzy at the merest hint of rejection, and will buck any and everyone she sees as trying to put themself in a position of authority. She does not seem to grasp the fact that what she needs the most is someone who will be kind to her. It’s unclear wether or not she realizes such a person could exist.

(thanks to @akkorokamuii for drawing and giving me the lore and backstory for this gem!)

Captain America (Steve Rogers x reader)

You should write a story about the reader x Steve being in a relationship and hydra captures him on a mission and turns him back to pre-serum Steve. Then he is embarrassed to see the reader because he feels like she won’t love him since he’s not Captain America anymore. Do what you want with the ending.

“Did you find him?” you asked in a panic, running across the hangar, fighting the urge to shake the answer from Tony when he wasn’t giving it fast enough.  “Tony, please tell me that you found Steve.”

“(Y/N), you might want to sit down.”

“No,” you replied cautiously, taking a few slow steps forward, “I might want to hear what you have to say instead.”

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