off balance again


I only have a short window before my body changes…

…Yeah I’ll say.

My version of Older!Yurio dump.


{PART 12} Who Are You? // Im Jaebum

Originally posted by sugaglos

Pairing: Jaebum x Reader (ft. Jackson, Jinyoung & BamBam)

Genre: Angst, slight fluff

Summary; Jackson and Jinyoung go through with setting their plan in motion - while Jaebum begins to fall apart from the inside out.

Please note that this series contains mentions of road/car accidents, amnesia and cheating.

{Part 1} // {Part 11} {Part 12} {Part 13}

I update this series every Sunday between 9pm-10pm (U.K Time)

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Someone to Hear Your Prayers

Another one-shot for your viewing pleasure!

Master List


An unfamiliar haven, with its rotted clay walls. But Jamie felt safe encased within its wooden pews.

His body ached. He had been running an awfully long time. A criminal without a crime. That was the truth. He was an innocent, forced to endure the punishment of the guilty.

But, people don’t like the truth when it negates their beliefs, do they?

He stared at the crucifix, transfixed by the pained expression his Savior wore. His father told him to never question the Lord, that He works in mysterious. But, looking at the carved face before him brought only one word the the front of his mind: Why?

Why him? Why did he suffer for someone else’s wrongdoings? Why must he run, while the true criminal lie? He wore the marks of a false crime in stripes on his back. He hated the man for it, whoever he was.

A lust for revenge ran through his blood, making him feel very much a demon in the house of God.

His head dropped, a benediction silent upon his lips.

He prayed for guidance. He prayed for strength. But, mostly, he prayed for peace. However, such peace was interrupted by thunderous hooves outside. Panicked, he sprang from his pew, and opened the closest door. A confessional. Good enough. At least he could buy some time. He began loading his pistol, the click of boots growing louder. He crossed himself, and commended his spirit.

The swish of a curtain surprised him. The creak of the neighboring bench even more so. Was someone here for confession? Was this ruined church still used by the nearby population?

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” A woman’s voice caressed his ears, whispered as if trying to hide her wrongs. “It has been a week since my last confession.”

Surely, if nothing else, this would take him straight to Hell.

“Mmmmmmm,” he responded to the woman, urging her to continue. He felt invasive  listening to her, a voyeur. But, he couldn’t give himself away, could he?

“Are you unwell, Father? You don’t sound the same.” Jamie forced a cough, and cleared his throat. “I’ll take a look at that afterward, okay? Anyway, my sins. In the past week, I have had relations with a man. Men. But, it’s my job, you know? It keeps me fed.” A prostitute, then? “I know you told me I could leave, but I have nowhere to go, and I couldn’t be burden to you. You’ve helped me so much already…

“Anyway. I’ve also lied. I took the Lord’s name in vain, oh say, 100 times. I slapped Geneva on Monday, but I’m not sure that’s so much a sin as it is tough love.

“Father, are you listening?” Jamie didn’t speak. What could he say without exposing himself? “Father? Father!”

Again, Jamie stayed silent. Her voice was panicked, afraid.

“FATHER!” The dull whoosh of velvet curtain sounded as she exited the confessional. Jamie sighed in relief. That is, until the door in front of him shook with the pounding of fists. The lock gave way under her beating, and she fell headlong into the stall. Onto Jamie’s lap.

“Who the bloody hell are you?!” She screeched. That was the only way Jamie could describe her voice at that a moment: a screech. A far cry from her soft, confession voice.

“Doesna matter,” he answered as calmly as he could, straightening the woman to a standing position.

“‘Doesn’t matter?’ The bloody hell it doesn’t! Impersonating a priest, are you? Is that how you get off? Listening to others confession their sins? You’re disgusting! You’re foul!” She made move to leave, but Jamie grabbed her arm, throwing her off balance again. Landing in his lap. Again. Under different circumstances, he would be thoroughly enjoying himself. As it were… “Let go of me!”

“Hush! Let me explain!” He held tight to her, pinning her arms to her sides. He didn’t want her to leave, screaming about the ‘fake priest’ to anyone that would listen.

“Explain?! This better be good! You better be Christ Himself, or I’ll-”

“I’m hiding.” There. Simply put. It was the truth. He felt her turn to look at him then. He couldn’t see her face in the shadows, but he could faintly make out her profile: upturned nose, pouted lips.

“Hiding?” She was a bit calmer now. “Why? Are you a criminal?” She scoffed, but the lack of answer on Jamie’s part caused her to stiffen. “Jesus… You are. Help! HELP!”

He clapped a hand over her mouth. She bit him, her teeth surprisingly sharp. But he didn’t let go.

“Hush!” He repeated. “I’m no a criminal, but I will be if ye dinna shut yer hole! It’s just- Stop biting me! It’s just some people think I am! I dinna commit the crime they think I did!”

Her fists were flying as much as they could, being pinned to her side as they were. Which, apparently, was enough because she hit him right in the groin.

“Oof!” She ran off, a shadow in the light of the setting sun. “Go, then! Condemn me!”

She stopped then, and turned to him. He couldn’t see her face, but her pause gave him hope.

“Come here.” She disappeared around the corner, and he followed. She was bent behind the altar, pulling up floorboards. “It’s an old hiding hole. Father told me about it once. Ahhh, here we go…” Beneath the boards lay an open room with a small cot. A rickety wooden ladder led the way in. “You may hide here for the night, if you wish. Father won’t mind.”

She straightened and faced him.

“I’m trusting you for some reason. A man in a church can’t be all bad, can he? Don’t let me down.”

This was the first time Jamie could really see her. Tall and willowy, long pale arms peeking out of the short sleeves of her dress. Her dark curls were piled on top of her head, a few escaped tendrils snaking around her regal neck. Her cheeks were pink from the sun, and she looked at him with honey brown eyes, full of curiosity, trepidation.

He reached to her, grasping her hand. He felt a strange sensation then, as if his own heartbeat was passing between the two of them. He stopped thinking.

And kissed her full on the mouth.

Chaste and short, it held more passion than anything he’d ever felt before in his life. She pulled away quickly.

“You have to pay for that.” Her eyes narrowed into slits, but she could not stop the grin that tried desperately to make its appearance.

“Nay. I dinna think I will. I’ll be back, ye see? Then, I shall make ye my wife, and I’ll kiss ye for free.” What possessed him to say such a thing? He barely knew the woman!

“I don’t make promises.”

“I do. And I’ll be back for ye…” Christ, what was her name?

“Claire. My name is Claire.” She read his mind.

“I’m Jamie.”

“Well, then. Good luck, Jamie. Get some rest.” He climbed into the hidden room, her shining eyes the last thing he saw before she closed him in.

Mysterious ways, indeed.

1 Year Later

His boots kicked up the dirt, clouding his vision of the small town. Would she still be here? She said she didn’t make promises.

She was easy enough to find, walking the street, a head above the other women.

“Claire!” He called over the stomping hooves, and the villagers milling around. She turned then, her hair a cloud around a pretty, pale face. He teeth shined in the sun as she smiled, and jogged to him.

“Hello, Father Imposter. I mean, Jamie.” Her eyes held a glint of playfulness.

“I’m a free man. I’m here. I’m keeping my promise. That is, if you wish it.” She was glowing, and it wasn’t from the sun.

“Yes! But, first… How about a drink?” She inclined her head toward the tavern behind her.

“Aye. A wee dram wouldn’t come amiss.”

He placed his hand on the small of her back, and let her lead him into this strange, wonderful future he had chosen for himself.

anonymous asked:

I don't think Brittany's sad. Tired maybe but not sad. I've personally battled Depression in my life and even though I'm in a good place now, it's not something that ever really goes away. It always sort of lingers beneath the surface. So yeah, even though for the most part I'm happy, there are still days, or sometimes periods of time, where I'm thrown off balance again. It just happens from time to time and I wouldn't be surprised if this happens to Britt too. But she has loads of support.

Title: Collapse

Word count: 1,013

Summary: She looked back at the building, her brows furrowed. “Did any of you see Chat Noir before the building collapsed?”

“No. Why?”

Ladybug bit her lip. “Because he was in there.” She kept her voice and face as steady as possible, her gaze fixed stoically on the ruined school building. But Adrien could hear the tremble she tried to hide.

He felt terrible for worrying her, but part of him was stunned that he could. His stomach twisted as he watched her stare hard at the wreckage.

Say something, you idiot. He swallowed hard. “You’ve both survived worse things, Ladybug. I’m sure he got away fine.”

She looked at him with a weak smile. “I hope so.”


Ladybug was ready to lasso the akuma’s foot, but the loud beep of a Miraculous broke her concentration. Her yo-yo missed its target and clanged on its way back to her hand. She frowned, annoyed.

“My lady…”

“Do what you have to do!” she said to her partner, spinning her weapon. “Go recharge! I have things under control!”

“I can stay a few more minutes,” Chat Noir said.

“I can handle this. Just hurry. Go!” Her yo-yo lashed out once more. It missed again.

As she battled with Papillon’s latest victim she caught sight of Chat Noir running into her school. She did her best to draw the akuma’s attention away from the site, and prayed his kwami could eat quickly.

But the victim noticed anyway. A wide grin crept onto her face as she realized what must have been happening. She cackled.

Ladybug tried to knock her off balance again, but she didn’t do it in time.

The next destructive beam of golden light collided directly with Collège Françoise Dupont.

The building crumbled.

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FIC: Potions and Promises (Perc’ahlia, one-shot, ficlet)

DISCLAIMER: Usual disclaimers apply.
TITLE: Potions and Promises
PAIRING: Percy/Vex (Critical Role)
RATING: T for general combat violence and some strong language
SUMMARY: Percy needs Vex to be okay. Vex needs Percy to not die.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: This is a thing I’ve had in my head literally since December, I just never got around to writing it, and when I finally did, I couldn’t get the second part of the fic right, so I scrapped it altogether after a week of trying to figure it out, and let this just be a ficlet for the main thing I wanted to write in the first place, hence how short it is. Also, I had it in my head that it was only Vex and Vax who went to confront Raishan in the nest, so suspend that part of the canon happenings for just a bit. Also also - I’m not saying I’d love it if this is a thing that happened this week on the show, but I’d love it if this is a thing that happened this week on the show.


“Vex! VEX!”

Vax’s panicked voice sounds a world away, a distant echo desperately trying to be heard over the ringing in her ears. Vex cringes and winces as she tries to push herself up off the ground on shaky, aching limbs. Her skin smarts and stings. Her head is swimming. Her vision is blurry. Her lungs feel as though they’re on fire, and coughing throws those flames up into her throat.

Vax’s knee almost rams into her side when he skids to a stop beside her. She feels his hands on her, trying to be careful as he urgently tries to turn her over onto her back. She coughs as she goes, and she thinks there’s blood coming up, but none does.

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Tough Love (Bias x Reader) Pt.7

Trigger warning: abuse. 

You sure felt it when you came home that night. And you fought like hell. You avoided the blows to your face. No more of that. You blocked him every way you could and felt proud when you used what B/N taught you, which caused Sid to stop prematurely from surprise. 

“You’re fighting back now?” he asks as he held his arm over your chest. You swing your elbow back and he loosens his grip a bit. You bite onto his forearm, pulling away before he can slap you.

“I don’t know where you’re learning all of this, but I’m amused,” he isn’t taking you seriously. He uses his finger, poking your chest as you smack his hand away, “Look at you, all puffed up. Finally had enough?” you hold your tears in as he mocks you, “You look so cute when you’re mad. You should get mad more often, but that’s my job,” he leaves for work after that and you sweep everything off of the counter in your rage. 

You head to the gym shortly after that. It was packed and B/N was busy training others, but you didn’t mind. You took your frustration out on the bag. Kicking and punching until your knuckles beneath the gloves were sore and you’re already sore body burning. You’re not punching hard enough, you tell yourself. You’re too small compared to him, do you really think you can take him on? Even worse, Sid thinks this is a game. 

You hold the bag, resting your head against it as you breathed hard.

“When are you going to kick his ass the same way you kick that bag?” some woman asks beside you. She’s ripped and probably fights on the regular professionally. 

“Right when you start minding your own business,” 

“You act that smart around him too?” 

“How do you think I got these?” you lift your shirt up then, you’re not even sure why. Maybe to make her shut up. The bruises are all over your back and midsection, more on your legs. 

Her face grows serious and turns out more people saw what you just did. She steps closer to you and you tense up, “Listen, if you ever need someone to set him straight or end him altogether, you call me or anyone of us,” you’re surprised by the sudden turn of compassion, but you don’t doubt their words. 

You nod after a moment, “I’ll keep that in mind,”

You’re ready to punch the bag again when B/N comes over to you, “You said you were okay,” 

“That was after I texted you,” 

His bites his lip, refusing to look at you. You nudge his arm, “I’m fine. I blocked most of it. See? My face doesn’t have a scratch,” but that does nothing for him. 

“Ten minutes, meet me on the mats,” 

“Today we’re learning grappling,” B/N says. You’ve seen him do it to the students, but never on you. He starts with the others and you watch carefully. He holds them and they have to figure a way out. He talks to them patiently, instructing them with ease until they get it. Finally it’s your turn.

“Tell me if you’re not okay with it,” he says but you nod, you’ll have to learn some time. And you tell yourself you won’t flip out like before.

One second you’re standing, the next your back is on the ground and he’s sitting on your chest, so similar to Sid. He has his hands around your neck, not squeezing, but holding you down. You take a deep breath, calming yourself down like he’s guided you to.

“Get out of this,” you try to use the same methods as the others before you, but nothing works. You’re exhausted and he’s still on top of you.

“Right hand on my right wrist, left hand on my left elbow. Hook your left foot around my left one. You’re trapping me. Now push your hips up and roll over,” you do as he instructs and he falls forward as you roll. Now you’re on top of him, “That will throw your opponent off balance. Now again,” 

You repeat the steps and practice the technique four more times until he moves to another one.

This time he’s between your legs. You would find this intimate if it wasn’t for his focused expression. This is no joking matter to him. Your legs are at his hips and his arms are around your waist with his head at your stomach. You can’t find a way out of this one either.

“This position is what gets many women in trouble. My elbows are trapping you in so your hips can’t move. No matter how much you fight, there is no way out of this. You have to talk.” 


“Yes. In most assault situations, the woman should talk. Distract him, say what he wants to hear until he frees your hips. He’ll loosen his grip and then you hit his face or wherever and get away.” 

“That sounds stupid,” 

“Is it?” But you realize that it isn’t any different. How many times have you said what Sid wanted to hear just so he would leave you alone? Or not proceed with his torture? Too many to count. 

B/N sees your discomfort and releases you. By now the gym is emptying and you get up to take a shower. Can’t go home smelling like this, even if he’s not home. He could pop up at any time, especially after what happened earlier. You’re fixing your hair when you hear someone in the locker room with you.

No one else is supposed to be in here. You walk around slowly. If it’s Sid, then you’ll be ready for him. But why would Sid be here at this hour? Or here at all? Unless he followed you…

You’re walking around the lockers when you bump into B/N. He’s on alert and so are you, so you both almost end up fighting each other. 

“Why are you in here?” you ask the same time he asks, “Why do you walk so quietly?” 

“I had to shower too. Plus there’s barely anyone here,” He has a towel around his waist and his body is still damp. His hair is pushed back from his face and you’re looking at all the wrong places. You turn back for your stuff when he calls to you. 

“Did you get those treated?” he doesn’t look at you as he asks this. 

“They’re just bruises,” 

“Could have internal bleeding,” 

“I’d be dead by now then,” He doesn’t find it funny and the air is suddenly uncomfortable, “I’ll see you later,” but then you pause at the door, remembering what you couldn’t remember. You face him, “That night, did we…?” 

“Do you really think I would’ve-” he almost looks offended, “You really don’t remember anything?” 

You shake your head, only getting snippets of a dark building and music, “Barely. Last thing I remember was eating,” 

“Nothing really happened. You dance really well when you’re drunk though,” you close your eyes because you’re genuinely embarrassed. 

“What else did I do?” 

“You fell asleep on the sidewalk after you said you had to pee,” he’s leaving nothing out. 

“And after?”

“I took you home. You slept the entire time,” 

“So nothing happened?” 

He shakes his head and removes the towel from around him. You avert your eyes, only to find that he has on boxers. He slips on his jeans, “Nothing happened,” 

“Are you sure?” such a stupid question.

He stands in front of you, “I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m not lying to you. I promise you that,” 

A part of you knew nothing took place, but the other half couldn’t believe it, “You know I’d kick your ass if you tried anything,” 

He smiles, “I don’t doubt that at all,” Now you’re standing there all awkward and you really wish he’d put on a shirt.

He’s so handsome before you and you force your eyes to stay on his but that’s also too hard, so you look at the stupid lockers, “How long have you owned this place?” Pointless conversation when you should be leaving.

“Five years. It was an old crack house so I turned it into this. Now almost everyone else who used to be on drugs is here fighting.” 

You’re leaning against the wall, taking in the place with new eyes. Imagining a bunch of drug addicts slumped around these floors.

“That’s amazing,” is all you can think of to say. 

“They’re amazing. They keep this place going. It’s nice seeing more kids in here too, instead of doing that kind of stuff,” You’re nodding at his words and he’s leaning against the wall, looking at you with those soft eyes again.

“Well uh, goodnight,” you say and pick up your bag, realizing you left the other one at his place. 

“Goodnight,” he doesn’t call you back and that’s what makes you stop. Shouldn’t the guy tell the girl to stop? Or pull her back? Evidently not this guy. 

You turn around to find that he’s still against the wall, still doesn’t have on a shirt, and is still staring at you, “What?” he asks standing up straight.

You step in front of him and he looks down at you, features nearly unreadable if it wasn’t for the pulse throbbing in his neck. Your own heart’s racing when you press on your toes to kiss him. 

He surprises you by immediately kissing you back, arms around you faster than you expected. You have nothing to grip, so it’s his damp skin you feel beneath your palms as he presses himself against you. His back is soft and warm, his hair wet between your fingers.

He’s kissing you deeply and you’re so shocked you’re even doing this. His hands grip your side, attempting to lift you up, but you audibly cry out because your body still hurts. He stops everything immediately. 

“No, it’s fine,” you say but he’s apparently done. He raises your shirt halfway, seeing the discolored skin before turning from you. He puts on his shirt and steps out of the locker room and you follow him, “It’s fine, B/N, really.” 

“That is not fine,” no one else is in the gym now. 

“It’s not but I’m okay,” 

He spins towards you holding his thumb and index finger close, “It’s taking me this much not to beat him myself. Why don’t you leave him? Call the police. He’ll kill you if you stay,” 

“It’s not that serious. You’re teaching me how to defend myself too,”

He looks like he can’t believe what you’ve just said, “It is that serious, Y/N.”


“Give me one good reason why you won’t leave and I may consider you sane,” 

You’re quiet, simply because you don’t have one. And for making you look stupid, you leave the gym without another word. 

anonymous asked:

hello! let's say the members start dating another idol, their relationship being made public, and one day, while being on a live show or something, someone from the audience insults their girlfriend. could you please make a gif reaction for this? thank youuu

oh no i did a gif scenario cause like i had to explain lol

also i did it as though it was jus sum sassy preteen being stupid at a live recording. so they’re not persistent or anything, just dumb lmao

Jin: *is all smiley and happy and then–* Oh, you are so lucky this is live you peASANT.

no matter how strong Seokjin’s girlfriend may seem, to him she will always be his pretty Princess and when someone insults his precious Peach… oh, the wooden spoon will come out - and then be put away just as quick lol. he might actually apologize to the fan because they feel the need to speak out  at the expense of others and apologize to the MC for the rude interruption, and urge them to continue. Jin is one of the most professional members in the group and knows what he’s doing, and confronting an obnoxious anti-fan on television is just not worth the true fans, his or his girlfriend’s time. 

Suga: *makes a face and quickly moves on* 

lol whatever girl Yoongi meets can definitely fend for herself. i don’t think he’d think twice about just moving the interview along and away from the idiot. he wouldn’t try to hide the crude words from her like Jin, Jimin, Hoseok or Taehyung might. if his girlfriend wants to say something about it, she can do it herself. but he knows that they’re both fab af and one stupid comment is not going to change that.

Namjoon: *taken aback, breathes deeply* And someone’s looking to get smacked because………?

okay it would take Namjoon a lot more to compose himself then he would let us see. he’s said himself that he is kind of temperamental and his emotions can be erratic so this is something that would probably set him off balance. again, i think he would compose himself before doing anything detrimental to the group’s image, but it would definitely take him the most amount of time and focus to calm down. he’d make a statement about it later on Twitter, making it very clear to us ARMY that he wants an all-loving, respectful fan base or no fans at all. 

J-Hope: *wtf* Can someone please get this anti-fan out of here?

omg Hoseok is so serious about ARMY, they’re like his little nuggets. he’d be absolutely torn apart about this, but not before being surprised and utterly disgusted. if they can’t respect those that he cares about then he doesn’t want them as a fan. i don’t think he’d say anything in the moment, but i can definitely see him doing the same thing as Namjoon and tweeting about it later. Jimin would probably do the same. 

Jimin: *takes a deep breath* Who would come in here and talk about my baby like that?

oh poor chimchim. i think he’d be deeply saddened like Hoseok, but he would show more as sadness on his face. again, he’d also just urge the MC to continue. he might post about it on social media later with a super cute, bare faced selfie but i think that most of his attention would be focused on making his girlfriend feel loved tbh. he’s so pure, so sweet, so perfect ah. 

V: *so shocked* 

he’d be way too shocked to say anything or even to really react. the MC might actually have to help him snap out of his frozen state, but the interview would awkwardly continue. since negative things seem to really take a toll on Taehyung’s spirit, i think it’d be evident in whatever videos he’s in that come out afterwards, that he’s not feeling quite like himself. and then people on tumblr would start attacking each other and making up problems that don’t even exist and none of the rational bloggers posts would get recognized ya its whatever lmao srry


i don’t think that the fetus would have much of a reaction. he seems to be really good at hiding that sort of thing. and if he did, it wouldn’t be very big or last very long at all, similar to Seokjin. i think he’d flat out ignore it, and pretend it never happened, hoping that his girlfriend would do the same. 

~ admin ariel

Creepypasta #634: The Shallow Grave Game

Story length: Super long

In every town in America, there is a vacant home across from a cemetery. Yours, in particular, you might know: it’s always the one where the grass grows just a little too tall, where there always seems to be just one light on but it is so dim that it is easily mistakable for a reflection of the streetlights on the glass. The siding is always faded, the cement walkway from the sidewalk spidered with cracks. Maybe it has a porch - partially sunken but only to the point of being slightly askew, just off enough to throw you off balance momentarily - but, then again, maybe it doesn’t. The point is that there is always a cemetery and there is always a house and, growing up, I lived right next to mine.

My parents told me I had been inquisitive of the neighboring home since I could walk. If their eyes left me while I was in the backyard, even if just for a second, I would sprint over to the vacant lot next door. Sometimes, it was just to wallow in the stalkish grass - to feel its tickling reach across my skin and its scrape against my clothes. 

Other times, it was a vain attempt to catch a glimpse of the inside of the house: a rattle at the doorknob, a cupping of hands on a dusty pane. I was enamored by the existence of a space unused to the point where, if I ever went missing, my parents only had to throw open the back door and march the few yards that separated the lots to find me. Eventually, they put up a fence.

Confined, the house drifted out of importance, and I soon learned to forget it was even there. I grew older and rarely found reason to pass it - at least until a week after my twelfth birthday: the day Charlie Kimber decided I was cool enough to join a game with the rest of the neighborhood kids.

Charlie was four years older and incredibly popular. While at school he was seen as a sort of hero - a sports star, an up-and-comer - he was known in the neighborhood as the epitome of the trouble child. Years of careful cultivation had landed him as ringleader of what amounted to what was more or less a petty gang: sometimes they egged houses, sometimes they stole grills, sometimes they pushed kids around. Those first two things, I never had to experience, thankfully. The last, I experienced three times as much as anyone else.

Still, for some unknown reason, a week after my twelfth birthday, Charlie Kimber caught me on my way home from school. He was on his bike and, as he talked, he spun circles around me like a hungry shark. He told me I was old enough to hang out with them now, if I wanted. He told me I could be just like him. He said if I wanted, we could meet up later and he and the guys and I could play a game. Naturally, the sudden change of pace threw me off - was both exciting and odd - but I agreed to meet with them nonetheless. He told me to meet them at the cemetery gates at sundown. I told him I would try.

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Uncle Qrow, Kung Fu Master

Qrow struck a suitably impressive pose. “Yang, it is time for you to learn our family’s style of fighting.”

To say that Yang was hyped was an understatement. Sure, her dad was a badass, but her Uncle Qrow was like… super badass. Heck, he could pummel people while drunk out of his mind. Honestly, if that wasn’t awesome, she wasn’t sure what was. “Right.”

Qrow grinned and then tossed his flask at her. “Drink that.”

Yang made a face. “Seriously?”

Qrow nodded. “It is necessary for your training.”

Yang opened the flask and drank. “Wait… is this just water?”

“Yep.” Qrow smirked. 


“Yang, our family’s secret style of fighting is Fake Drunken Fist.”

Yang’s eye twitched. “What?”

“Basically, you fake being drunk, act like being drunk gives you superpowers, and then pummel everyone. Drinking from the flask helps put you in the correct frame of mind.”

“Are you serious?”

“Completely.” Qrow grinned. “Behold.”

And, just like that, he began to do an incredibly good impersonation of a drunk person, all while throwing an improbably acrobatic series of punches and kicks.

“That looks… weird.”

“It is.” Qrow nodded. “But, I guess the only way for you to understand is to experience it for yourself.” He lifted one hand and beckoned her forward. “Hit me, if you can.”

Ten minutes later…

Yang pulled herself out of a crater in the ground. Her uncle had beaten her. No, scratch that, he’d kicked her ass. That Fake Drunken Fist style of his was ridiculous. Not only was it almost impossible for her to predict but it also used the bizarre acrobatics and movements to put an incredible amount of force behind each blow. 

“Maybe now you’ll believe me when I say it’s awesome.”

“Yeah, I do.” Yang got up. “So… how do you do it?”

Qrow took up a stance. “Try to copy what I’m doing…”

X     X     X

Neo staggered back as Yang’s gauntlet thudded into her chest. What the hell kind of fighting style was this? In front of her, the blonde smirked lazily and staggered around, seemingly off balance. Neo lunged in again, only to find Yang flopping around in a way that made no sense. Her blow went wide, and Yang hit her with one flailing arm followed by a kick that looked more like it was the result of her tripping over than anything she’d planned.

But damn, those hits had hurt. Neo could barely feel her arm where Yang had hit it, and that kick had numbed one of her legs. Was she… was she really going to lose to a drunk person? No. There was no way that could happen. She unsheathed the blade hidden in her umbrella and poured on the speed, closing the gap between them in the blink of an eye -

And Yang slipped onto her back. Neo’s strike went over her, and Yang’s flailing legs caught her in the stomach. Neo rocketed up into the ceiling and hit it with enough force to leave a spider web of cracks. She gasped and tumbled down - right into another punch that looked more like a clumsy attempt at a hug than a punch.

Neo was unconscious before she hit the far wall of the room.

Yang stared at her opponent. Wow. Now, this… this was why Uncle Qrow was the best uncle ever. Some uncles would have offered her sage advice. Her Uncle Qrow had shown her how to beat the crap out of her enemies. Oh yeah.

firecoloredwater  asked:

HMMM what about an AU where Klaus discovered the geisterdamen in Sturmhalten while Tarvek was a hostage, and... well, responded as he would to discovering someone hiding an army of the Other from him?


Okay, first off: contrary to the reputation he actively maintains, Klaus is not going to kill a seven/eight-year-old child just because his family is actively evil and plotting to overthrow the Empire. He’s not. It’s that old “annoying, soft-hearted romantic streak.” He is, however, going to have said child pulled out of class and then personally interrogate him, and he’ll be furious and looming and terrifying and Tarvek will be desperately scrambling to figure out how much the Baron knows and how much he can, should, say - he doesn’t actually know much at this point, but he could probably point to key players, and give more of a sense of the scope of the Sturmhalten sewers. He might even know about the summoning engine. Depending on how Klaus found out about the conspiracy - most likely is one of the Order decided this was a Bad Plan and turned cloak - Tarvek may only be affirming things already known but w/e. He’s cooperating to save his own skin. He might even try to mention that his sister had nothing to do with it either. (It’s obviously no use trying to save his father.)

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vasselheims  asked:

companions reacting to their first kiss with the Sole Survivor? :D

I loved this ask so much that it ended up with me making kissing drabbles for all the romanced companions plus Deacon and Nick. Post ended up pretty long so it’s going under a read more.  Enjoy!

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punkrockinchairs  asked:

for the mini fic thing, 2 and dex/nursey? (or a ship of ur choosing) :)

Oh man, thank you for prompting these two—I’m currently kind of gathering up thoughts on them for a possible longer thing and this will be immensely helpful practice.

Warning for politics lol

Dex/Nursey #2: Things said through gritted teeth

“Bernie Sanders has some pretty good ideas.”

He tries to say it nice and clearly, but his anticipation of the look Nursey will give him makes his jaw ache and his syllables run together a little. He hates that face—the face that he makes every time Dex says something he thinks is out of character—shocked and smug at once, like Dex is some one-note idiot always toeing the party line. 

There it is. Nurse looks up from his copy of Mother Jones, his eyes widening fractionally before he starts to smirk. “Oh yeah?”

Dex coughs and looks away from him. “I still don’t know how he thinks he’s going to pay for any of it, but.” He shrugs, wishing he’d never gone down this path. It was too personal for their habitual breakfast-time fights, for what Nursey will undoubtedly make it into. “If he put his education policy into effect, I wouldn’t have to work summers anymore.”

He expects Nursey to scoff at him, say oh, now that it’ll personally benefit you you see sense, but he doesn’t. He just watches Dex for a moment, face relaxed and unreadable, and then nods, turning back to his paper.

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Trust Me (Jr.)

Plot: Ice skating with Junior— but you can’t ice skate

Length: 748 words

Genre: Fluff/Drabble

*A/N: I dedicate this post to the bae who stayed up till 2AM with me discussing all things Got7, parkjinyoungologist ♡

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Girl Meets HS1 Review/Theory.

First of all I know I was going to start with reviewing Season 2, but so much is about to happen in Season 3 that I have to start there. Hopefully I can go back and and review the rest later, because Season 2 was literally epic.

Second of all, Girl Meets High School Part 1 WASN’T my favorite episode. It has some great moments, but I do have some critiques in my review. Please don’t kill me! Alright, so here we go:

Opening Scene/BMW Parallels: Obviously for all us BMW fanatics, this first scene is a pure egg of homage gold. It is direct reference to Cory and Shawn’s first day of high school, right down to the two random students coming through the front doors saying “What happens now will determine the rest of our lives”. Great way to open the show. I would especially like to note the color combos/outfits MATCH Cory and Shawns, but the interesting thing here? Maya is wearing yellow like Cory, and Riley is dressed like Shawn (with the vest, etc). Also, note that in BMW, Shawn JUMPS into the locker without question when getting hassled by the seniors, while Riley jumps straight into the hole. Interesting twist of paralleling characters here, as we usually associate Riley=Cory, Maya=Shawn. Reminder that none of these GMW characters truly parallel one BMW counterpart. 

Farkle/Smackle Convo: In addition to the Smackle clones lined up to play for laughs (something that works well), I think there is some meta here. Farkle tells Smackle he is so happy to have found his “equal” and that it reminds him the “universe has order”. I think this heavily foreshadows the Riarkle pairing (and we will see in HS2 where Riley hopes Farkle doesn’t let science blind him from “true love”) and that love is not supposed to make sense, and feelings can not be scientifically calculated. 

Opening Credits: What can I say that hasn’t been said about these credits? They are fantastic, Zay should have been in them, no I don’t think Maya kissing Topanga is a big deal and if you didn’t notice whose arm is around who at the walk off, please watch it over and over again until you do. I don’t need to point out the BMW parallel here because literally the entire thing is one, but I do agree that Auggie should have stolen a TACO from Cory(we will see that soon enough in S3 though, so it’s okay)

Zay in the Hole first: This to me, is important. I have read that a lot of people seems to believe that Farkle is the voice of the audience. If you believe this and are reading this, send me a message explaining why- because I don’t really understand it. I DO however think that ZAY is the voice of the audience, which we HAVE seen in many instances, i.e.: his calling out of Lucas and Maya (GM Creativity), his commentary on Lucas and Maya in Texas 3, his various comments on the strange things the group does, like climb in through Riley’s window uninvited, etc. “I saw where this was going” is just another foreshadow and out loud commentary of what everyone watching the show was already thinking. Do you agree/disagree? Let me know!

Marley: Here’s comes my first big critique. I think that the concept of Marley is a GREAT idea. In BMW, no one really stopped and questioned Feeny on his teaching methods and I think it’s great to see someone challenge Cory. We see him off balance in school settings again. This sets him up for some serious growth. I think that Marley’s lines are written flawlessly, but I think that the actress delivers them terribly. I think she should have been cast differently or noted differently because her delivery falls totally flat. What should get HUGE laughs gets almost none. Missed opportunities there. If acted out right, her wittiness could match Zay’s, who I think gets the biggest laughs/is probably the best with comedic timing of any of the younger cast members on the show. 

Maya/Riley Dynamic in this Episode: Some things I loved, some things I didn’t here. I love that Maya stayed in the hole and never even questioned Riley. Some of you may say “Well, obviously” but I disagree. I think that if this were S1, she at least would have challenged her on it (Think about GM Belief). But here in the hole she shows her growth. She shows that she has, to some degree, serious hope and faith now. I think thats really important to remember. That growth is also showcased in the last scene where she is talking to Ava about her parent’s divorce. She tells Ava she will think it’s her fault her dad left, but how it’s not. This highlights the forgiveness she found in herself  during GM Forgiveness, once again reminding the audience how far she has come since the start of the series. The writers are no doubt showing this to us un purpose, considering the epic identity crisis she is about to face. 

What I DIDN’T like about the Rilaya dynamic in this episode is that for me, things seemed out of character for them. Maya’s “How am I in a triangle with THAT?” seemed uncharacteristically harsh of her and I think her “wanting to be called g/f equally as much” as also a little out of place for her, because usually it is Riley who enforces the Triangle rules. 

Rucas/Riarkle Fight: OKAY SHIPPERS, HERE WE GO. These fights are some the only META moments in this episode. Note the differences with their arguments. Notice how angry Lucas is towards Riley and how easily he walks away from her (Also, what’s up with her saying he would get killed on the football team? He can ride a bull but he can’t try out for football? Hmm…is her faith in her Prince broken so easily?). They throw insults at each other (Riley barely speaks) and it’s done. Seems a little brother/sister vibe to me…hmm. Riarkle fight? Different story. First, notice that Farkle shows up to talk to Riley and Maya. He’s upset, but he is ALWAYS there. Riley is able to speak her mind to him (getting so close to his face I was actually taken aback by the tension the director allowed for them to build there…very reminisent GM STEM) and when the camera cuts out, he has NOT walked away from her. I know that naysayers will probably claim that I am reaching here but to me, the context of those two arguments and the difference in dynamic between these characters says everything. Does anyone else feel that Lucas isn’t really LISTENING to Riley? Does anyone else feel that Farkle hears every single word she says?

Small Random Comments:

-I like that they made the high schoolers SO MUCH taller than the core 6. It makes them look tiny like it did for Cory and Shawn in High School. I also think the actors were looking a little too old for the ages they were playing in middle school and this shades that a bit, especially with Lucas.

-Lucas going off on the random kid (”he’s not even with us”) = comedic genius.

Does Zay wear anything else besides plaid with undershirts to match? Same outfit, every day!

Notice how every single female friendship shown is one blonde, one brunette?

Them getting separated when the bell rings? Very funny. Physical comedy when done right is so effective. 

The Senior Triangle: I have some issues with this dynamic will come out in my review of HS2, but I’d like to note something that I enjoyed about them. In Topanga’s, brunette senior says “You’ve been living in your little world. Maybe you need to stop and look around a little”. Note this because: 1- Foreshadowing the difficulties that are to come as a result of this. Think about perceptions of reality(as a youngster) and ACTUAL reality as a young adult (not a smooth transition). 2-”Wift your wittle head, Wiley”- ENTER FARKLE TO SCENE. 

Rating Out of 5 Stars? 3.5. Not too much meta, some strange out of character moments for the kids (though that may be setting up for future issues) and my disappointment in Marley’s casting. Still, the episode’s humor was on point, especially with Zay and Maya, Rowan SHINES in her heavier moments, good set up episode for HS2 and of course….that Riarkle fight (Cause come onnnnn people). 

wafflelovingbatgirl  asked:

I saw a post online about a potential way to eliminate Mosquitos as a species by breeding attractive yet sterile males. I dislike Mosquitos as much as the next person who spends significant amounts of time in the outdoors of Virginia, but wouldn't this be really bad for the ecosystem?

It would set things off-balance, but then again, they’re already off-balance from anthropogenic influences. The question is, what would it gain and is that more important than what we’d damage?

I’m going to copypasta from a beautiful post by speciesofleastconcern, since I can’t rebagel it with this. 

When someone asks, as they always eventually do, “why do mosquitoes exist?,” they’re really asking another hidden question. Because mosquitoes exist for the same reason all organisms exist: evolution provided adaptations to fit the available energy sources. Blood-suckers suck blood because blood is a liquid that can be sucked–the alternative is flesh-eating. Which is worse?

The hidden question is this “Is the natural world in balance?” The answer of course is no. Humans have proved to be so adaptable in such a short time, that we have thrown the entirety of the rest of the natural world out of kilter. We have spread to every corner of the globe, bringing our food animals with us. We have created vast climate-controlled structures to live in. We have dug deep into the earth to find energy trapped in hydrocarbons that have held onto it for millions of years, and released so much carbon dioxide into the atmosphere that we have changed the atmosphere and climate of the planet forever.

One of the most mundane activities of humans–the selling of goods between one land mass and another–has resulted in the spread of mosquitoes. In prehistory the mosquitoes would have lived in balance with their predators–the mosquitoes pushing their hosts gently toward fitness, the predators keeping them at a tolerable level. Moving mosquitoes around the world has brought these biting flies to land masses that never had them before, and brought multiple species to places that used to have only a few species. The shiploads of tires and other mosquito-moving industries did not bring along the predators of the mosquitoes. We ask too much of our native bats and dragonflies–there are simply too many exotic mosquitoes for natural controls to retake the balance.

The result is blood-borne diseases in North America bearing the names of regions in Africa. The result is the almost complete destruction of Hawaain bird diversity. The result is mosquitoes that bite in the daytime, that breed in dumpsters and dirty gutters, in densities that mock the equilibrium of the past. Why are there mosquitoes? Because there is blood to drink. Why are there so many god damned mosquitoes? Because human activity creates and destroys habitat in a way that rarely makes the world a better place.

So there’s pretty much the philosophical problem, well encapsulated. Now, let’s look at the reason we’re considering sterlizing mosquitoes: blood-borne disease control. 

I’m guessing you saw this article by the Guardian? It’s not so much about eliminating them as a species as about cutting back on the sheer numbers of them, especially in areas where they’re not native. Why? Because in a decade or so we’re going to have absolutely huge problems with disease vectors for blood-borne diseases. We’re talked about chytridomycosis on this blog - a type of fungi that is wiping out amphibian species all over the globe by basically suffocating them. Amphibians are pretty much the main limiting factor for insect populations, so when they die off, the bug count is going to spike. So, y’know how current malaria problems are bad? Imagine exponentially worse outbreaks. 

Sterilizing insects as a method of population control, and subsequently, disease control, is something we’ve been researching for at least five years if not much longer. As much as it might hurt the populations of things that prey on them in the areas it’s deployed, it might be crucial to helping stem or prevent large-scale disease spread in the future. 

Spice (Namjoon Smut)

*Oh god, what did I just write*

*Two requests combined~*

Word Count: 1569 words~

-Requests Closed-

You wanted it. Oh god, you wanted it so bad.

That smirk, the way his hips thrust, you wanted it all. But he wasn’t giving it to you. You wanted more. Much more.


“Yes, Namjoon?”

“We’re going over, right?”

“Of course, Jin begged me to come over.”

Jin invited you, extending his invite to Namjoon to stay the night. Namjoon stayed with you in your house, he loved waking up next to you and there was nobody to disrupt you from your activities.

“Ready.” You drove over to the dorm, Namjoon opening the door with his key.

“Y/N, you’re here!” Jin hugged you first and the others backed off. You hugged everyone else lightly and Jin pulled you away in the kitchen.

“It’s nice to see someone else than this 6 boys. How have you been?”

“Great, just wished I didn’t want to become a psychologist. So many essays and lectures.”

“I see why Namjoon fell for you, you two are the same. How have you two been?”

“He’s amazing as always, wouldn’t trade him for the world.”

“That’s good. Oh, why I dragged you in here! Can you set up these?” You and Jin cooked together, he loved your company when you gave him tickets to a cooking show.

He wasn’t the most passionate chef but he still enjoyed tasting all the samples they gave out. You set up the snacks and he did his part. You carried out the snacks on a tray and you noticed how the seating arrangement was.

You are going to be sandwiched between Namjoon and Jin. Great. Namjoon told you how Jin used to have the tiniest crush on you but gave up when you started dating Namjoon.

There were moments where it felt like he forgot that you were taken. The lingering touches, the inside jokes, his smiles. The little things that you didn’t notice were incentives, he wanted to be with you.

“Babe?” You sat next to him, your mind racing over what could happen.

But Jin wasn’t the kind of guy that would steal his friend’s girlfriend.

Maybe you’re overthinking this.

“Is everyone ready?”

“Just press play, hyung.” The lights dim, the only luminous thing being the tv and Jin wasn’t focused on you.

At least, not yet.

His hand unconsciously brushed against your thigh, a habit of his that must have forgotten. You didn’t say a thing, not wanting to make a deal out of it. You sworn you saw Namjoon dart to the same place Jin’s hand was but you thought nothing of it.

“Y/N, can you hand me the smarties?” You reached of the bowl, your shirt riding up a little and his hand covers yours. It was longer than a brief moment of contact and you were starting to get nervous.

Why were you reading so much into such harmlessly simple gestures? You grabbed a bag of chips, trying to distract yourself with the crunching sounds of potato chips.

“Y/N, look!” Jin pointed before stealing the chips from your hand.

“Jin.” You whined, playing it off as annoyed but you were hoping he would take as you saying ‘cut it out’

You don’t always get what you wish for.

He simply winked at you and you could feel Namjoon shuffling next to you. He wasn’t happy about this.

Was he going to show it? Not here.

You knew you were in trouble, this unintentional flirting that you couldn’t even disguise as being friendly was definitely your problem. And you were going to solve it one way or another.

“Babe, come here.” He leaned in, whispering into your ear and obliged. You sat in his lap, resting your head on his shoulder. His arm wrapped protectively around you, the other held your hand and you looked at him.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“I get to see you every morning, a picture wouldn’t suffice.”

“Is it because I’m clothed?”

“Okay, lover boy. I’m not getting in your pants.”

“Then, let me get into yours. I’m sure it’ll be more fun that way.” He teasingly nibbles on your ear, you squirming in his arms and catching the attention of one of the boys.

“OI, lovebirds we’re trying to watch a movie here.”

“Keep your eyes on the screen, then.” He scoffed and you smiled.

“I’m getting more snacks, does anyone want anything? Y/N?”


“We’re fine, hyung.” Namjoon was pretty curt with him, regardless of how polite his words were. You tried to just immerse yourself into the movie but Namjoon kept teasing you.

The movie ended, your thoughts about Jin flirting with you subsided and Namjoon wanted to drive.

“You know what you did, baby.”


“You were leading him on. And you liked the attention, didn’t you?” He parked, both of you getting out and walked up to your apartment.

“Namjoon, I-”

“Why didn’t you say stop? How could you just him touch you like how I’m supposed to?” You unlocked the door, even the familiar environment couldn’t calm the hostility.

“He was just playing..”

“Playing? So what, you’re going to keep playing with him?”

“Namjoon, you’re-”

“Overreacting? When my girlfriend lets one of my best friends flirt with her? Is that what you were going to say?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Let’s play a game.”


“It’ll spice things up, that’s what you wanted. Plus, I think we’ll like this game. Strip.”


“You like playing, right? Then, let’s play right now. I said, strip.” You’ve haven’t seen him like this, this emotionless commands that were, ironically, put on by emotions.

You did strip, maybe he would show leniency. He touched you, squeezing and pinching at your skin. You gasped, this sensation foreign to you. He kissed you roughly, his hands grabbing your ass hard.

“Namjoon.” You yelped when he pulled away and he glared at you.

“Go lay on the bed.” His heavy footsteps that followed you as a reminder and you lie down. He opened a box, and you sat up to see its contents.

“Didn’t I tell you to lie down?” You lie down again, him rummaging through the box.

“Close your eyes.” You felt silk wrapped over your eyes and he grabbed your wrists. The cold feeling of metal chafing at your skin. You squirm, Namjoon running his hand over your back to calm you down.


“Call me daddy, Y/N.” He spoke into your ear before you felt his tongue slowly lick the skin.

“Turn over and spread your legs.” You did as he said, his finger began stroking you.

“D-D.” You felt a cold, slippery substance over your dripping wet pussy.

“Get up.” You were on your knees and you felt something plunge into you.

“Oh my god-”

“Don’t fight it, baby.” You bit your lip, as he continued to fuck you with, what you guessed was, a toy. You moaned his name, your mind becoming incoherent.

“You’re starting to like this, aren’t you baby?”

“M-More-ahh.” You could tell he was smirking, seeing you ready to beg for him. The toy pumped in and out of you, the friction overly simulating to your body.

You were so close and then he pulled it out, the feeling of emptiness making you whimper.

“Don’t be selfish.” You held his hand come down on you, the sting of pain on your ass. Your voice strained with every smack, the pleasure dulling out the pain.

“Da-Daddy-ah.” He stopped, and you sensed him moving closer. You could feel his hand running over your body, teasing and touching your soft skin.

“You’re not going to cum until I say so. Understand?”

“Y-Yes, daddy.” He planted kisses against your spine before you could hear the sound of his pants dropping. Your senses heightened as he pulled into you, the feeling of his cock filling you up pushed out the air in your lungs.

“So tight.”

“A-ah.” Your wrists were chafing against the cold metal of the cuffs, every thrust almost knocking you off balance.

He spanked again, the hard slaps only adding to pleasure he was giving you. You feel your hair being tugged, the strands tangling themselves around his fingers.


His thrusts became fast to the sound of your voice, the harsh sound of your skin slapping together not enough to dull the sound.

“You like it when I punish your little pussy?”


“Such a good little girl.” He tugged harder on your hair, your moans getting released in gasps. Your body was tingling, the way he was treating your body overexcited you.

You loved it.

“G-Give me more, d-daddy-fuck.”

“Don’t be selfish.” He hissed, giving you a hard smack and you bit your lip. His hand slipped down your clit, twisting and pinching the sensitive nub.

“Oh, daddy.” You mewled, he untied your blindfold. Your eyes readjusting to the dim light of the room, only unscented candles were lighting the room. You watched the wax melt, your body almost doing the same until your climax took over.

A mangled scream erupted from you and you collapse onto the sheets. He came as well, his seed flowing into the condom before throwing it out. He released you from the cuffs, his thumb smoothing over the chaffed skin.

He pressed his soft lips to the skin, making you blush.

“Let’s do that again, daddy.”

~Admin Blake

anonymous asked:

AU blurb: fluffy blurb about meeting Harry at college or university.

You’ve met him once. The kid who spent more money on the sketches inked on his skin than utensils cause’ the only apparent thing that would signify his enrollment at the campus is the one book easily held in his hand and the pen that sits so snuggly in the pocket of dark skinny jeans. And it’s not like your paths haven’t crossed before because it’s a small campus and you are both blamed of being a creature of habit, crossing opposite sides of the pathway at 3.40 each Tuesday afternoon and in the dreary eyed morning of 7.45am on a Wednesday, with a subtle smile. And it’s that Tuesday afternoon that you walk into service station with a mere $3.50 of change gathered from your pocket in sight for the glazed donut. And you’ve got this backpack that’s zipper struggles to completely close, a clear indication of the paperwork associated with your psych class meaning whatever doesn’t fit in the geo-print bag remains tucked under your arm, which is your main mistake noted by the hand that’s outreached for you and the formation of your name in an unrecognizable voice. (“Y/N.” “Oh, uh-” “That’s the name on the book.” “Yeah that’s me. Thank you.” “No worries.”) And just as you go to turn around on your heels, as a somewhat attempt to hide the schoolgirl smile pulling at your lips, he’ll catch your attention so easily. (“I’m Harry.” “Thank you Harry.” “Anytime, "y/n.”) And those stomach flips that pulled your centre of gravity off balance are apparent again when his lanky legs catch up to yours, the sound of his footprint’s fast against the concrete slab before his bouncing brown locks appear next to you. (“Do you need a hand?” “Thank you but I’ve mastered carrying them now.” “I wouldn’t mind though. It actually would make me look prepared for this class we are going to.”) And your body familiarizes with his superior frame  walking next to you. And you also familiarize with the serenity of his morning voice. (“Do you want some gum?” “No thanks, just brushed my teeth.” “It’s Berry though.” “I wouldn’t pick someone as masculine as you to go for Berry.” “My breath isn’t the only thing sweet about me babe.”) Like the morning sun that so gradually creeps up your back on the 1 mile Wednesday morning walk, he seeps into your veins just as sweetly. Particularly when Harry cuts in front of your intended walking path and you can feel his warm breath tickle against the of your skin, his hands dangerously soft under your jaw and his eyes catching the reflecting light from the concrete as the focus so intently on the tip of your nose. (“Harr-” “Hold still.” “What are you trying?” “You’ve shed an eyelash. You’re meant to grab it and make a wish, so keep still.”) And Harry has to be definitely sure of his effect, cause’ his charm is enough to surface unknown dimples into your cheeks and his supple fingertips instigate a unique heat across your complexion as he retrieves the infamous eyelash holding it to your lips. (“Go on, make your wish.” “Finder’s keeps, you wish.”) And Harry’s cheekbones accentuate as his lungs exhale to project the miniscule lash into the non-apparent wind. (“So, you going to tell or stand there waiting for me to guess?” “I can’t tell, it won’t come true.”) Leaving it at that, your feet are about to progress from the slab of footpath they’ve been sedentary in and your about to leave the gaze he has you in. (“But if it comes true, I might see you more than just a Tuesday and Wednesday.”)