Sneak Preview!

So my short one-shot for @elsewhereuniversity has become a 7,000 words and counting story. Since I’m still working on it I figured I’d give ya guys a sneak peak at it!


Your new roommate greets you with a smile, clothes like a bunch of sharpies threw up on them, and an extended hand.

“Hi, I’m Reagan!”

You take the hand, note the faint scars crisscrossing like a maze across the skin.

“Um, hi.”

They are so short they have to tip toe to look over your shoulder. “Do you need any help with your stuff?” You shake your head and Reagan nods, still smiling, before leaving the door open and going back to their side. “Kay, just let me know if you do.”

They are wearing the shoes that light up when you walk and you had no idea those came in adult sizes. Or maybe their feet are small? You pick up your first bag and enter the dorm, prepared for your first year at university.

You are not prepared, however, for the cat that sits on your roommate’s bed.

“Uh… we’re allowed pets here?”

Reagan looks up from their laptop, looking confused. “Pets?”

You put your bag down on your side of the room and point to the black long haired cat curled up on their tie dye sheets. Reagan follows your finger and blinks at the cat.

“That’s not a pet. That’s Skooma.”

Pause. “Like in Skyrim?”

Reagan gives you another grin. “Naw, I played Morrowind.” Nervous laughter. “I’m old.”

“I’m still pretty sure we’re not allowed cats.”

Their face goes blank and they stare.  If it weren’t for the blinking you would think they’d died or something.

“It’s… Skooma.”

Clearly, you aren’t getting anywhere about this. You’d just wait for an RA to find out or a teacher or something. It would be sad but you didn’t want to get into trouble. You put your first bag down and go to grab your other two. The meeting is at noon so you have some time to unpack and get things situated. You glance over at your roommate’s side, wondering how they’ve set their stuff up. Reagan is sitting against the wall, laptop on their lap and typing with a speed that sort of intimidates you. They haven’t even removed their shoes. Actually… now that you’re looking at their side it’s kinda… bare. Their sheets are bright tie dye that hurts to look at, there’s a rolling Hello Kitty suitcase beside the bed, and their desk is empty except for a brown, round bed, supposedly for the cat still curled up on the sheets. Other than those things the entire side of their room has no trinkets, posters, not even a litter box.

You wonder if it would be rude to put up your own posters. You eye your small framed photo’s and the Furby you’d brought. No, no, you couldn’t let something like this intimidate you. It was stupid. Who cared what your roommate did. You pull out your posters and sticky tack and try to artfully arrange them on the walls. The photos and Furby are put on your desk along with your brand new Graduation laptop.

“You might want to take the batteries out.”

You jump, in the middle of pulling out clothes and hanging them in the shared closet. “Uh… what?”

Reagan has a pair of thick, expensive looking headphones around their neck, squooshing their face. “That Furby. You should take out the batteries. Might end up hearing things you don’t want to.”

You can only stare at such a weird request.

Reagan smiles. “Just a suggestion.” They put the headphones back on and continue working on their laptop. Somehow, the cat has migrated to their lap and the computer is almost falling off their knees but they don’t seem bothered.

You wait but when they don’t do anything else you put away the last of your clothes. Reagan’s side of the closet isn’t as bare as their side of the room, at least. Just… very bright. You think some of the sneakers are heely’s for goodness sake. Who even wears those anymore? You check the time. It’s almost noon and you just know you’ll get lost on your way to the freshman meeting. You put on a new t-shirt and grab a small jacket just in case. You’re out the door before pausing. Wait… You poke your head back in.

“Uh…” Can they even hear you with those headphones on? Yet Reagan pulls them off and looks up expectantly. “Um, are you coming?”

The smiling is starting to creep you out. “To what? The freshman meeting? God no, I’m definitely not a freshman!”



“Pffft, the look… no, no, my old roommate, uh, left and I guess they had to stick someone in here.” They reach down and scratch the cat’s ears. “If you don’t like bein’ my roommate just give it a bit and I’m sure some rooms will open up.”

“Um… kay. Well, I guess I’ll see you later?”

Reagan waves with their unoccupied hand then yelps as their laptop takes a tip. You leave to muttered cursing and something that sounds like hissing air.

You only get lost once on your way to the meeting and so you’re quite early. A cheerful older student comes up and gives you a nametag. She tells you to write your name on it, but not your true name. Whatever that means. You’re staring at the nametag in confusion (do you put your full name? What the heck is a true name?) When another student comes up to you. He’s got a bit of a beard and his curly hair barely fits under his University cap.

“Havin’ some issues?”

“Uh, yeah. I was told to put my name on it but… not my true name?”

He wrinkles his nose and sighs. “Best to go with a nickname. Make ‘em happy, eh?”

It’s still weird but you put a nickname anyways and peel off the back to stick it to your t-shirt.

“Well, anyways, my name’s Harris.” You shake his hand, calloused and rough.

‘Uh, well, you already know mine.” You point to your tag.

“Now I do. What’s your room number? I’m pretty sure I can find your RA for you, I know ‘em all.”

You have to pull the crumpled piece of paper from your pocket and peer at your writing. “Um… I’m in room fourty-four floor four.”

When you look back up from putting the paper away you freeze. Because he’s… he’s staring at you with something like fear or pity.

“So, uh, fourty-four floor four, huh. Um… you met your roommate yet?”


He nods shakily. “Good. That’s… good.”

“Is… is something wrong? They’re not some sort of murderer or something are they?”

“What? No, no.” He wipes his hands on his jeans. “Just… be careful, kay?”


“Is this about the ca-”

His hands clap around your mouth and holy shit you thought people only did that in movies.

“Nope. Nothing to do with them. Or it. Or anything.” You duck away from his gross, sweaty hands and give him a dubious stare. “Well, uh, the RA for floor four is that girl in the blue jacket.” He takes off, giving you looks over his shoulder.

Your RA gives you an absent nod and a smile before returning to her phone and you sit in a provided chair. You thumb on your own phone, blessed anti-social device. Noon passes and when the stragglers thin, the RA claps to get attention and smiles at everyone. You half listen to the speech. Some of it seems odd (carrying iron? Salt? The bowls by the doors had to be filled with milk?) but most was the usual stuff you had already read in the papers they hand out. Yes, you read them.

But, then…

“Oh, and who is staying in room fourty-four?”

You blink. What. Cautiously, you raise your hand and shrink when everyone looks at you.

The RA, you already forgot her name, smiles at you. “Excellent, I have to speak to you after the tour, okay?”

You nod, what else could you do? As the RA continues on, a girl beside you, glasses taking up half her face and hair pulled into a ponytail pokes you in the shoulder.

“What’s so special about room fourty-four?” She whispers through a lisp.

You shrug.

The boy on the other side of her leans over, almost falling into the girls’ lap and she pushes at his shoulder. “Do you have a single room?”

You shake your head. “No, I have a roommate.”

Both of them stare at you. The girl pulls at her skirt. “Who is it?”

“Um, they’re not a freshman. So… they’re not here.”

The boy smacks his hand on the back of the girls chair. “What? No way!”

The RA clears her throat, staring at them pointedly. The two shrink back, still giving you looks. You hope you can avoid them when the tour starts. As usual, it is not to be, and the two corner you as the group is herded together.

“So,” The girl starts. Her nametag says Bea in looping, over exaggerated cursive. “You have a roommate in a freshman dorm building who’s not a freshman?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s what I said.”

They stare at you. You stare back.

The boy, his nametag says Gary in blocky, thick pen, throws up his hands. “Well?! You can’t just say that and then not explain anything!”

You open your mouth, to say <i>i can’t tell if they’re female or male and everytime i think of asking i can’t they have a cat that doesn’t look like a cat and they smile too much</i> but the words catch in your throat and you don’t say anything.

Bea scowls at you, crossing her arms over her chest. “Whatever. C’mon, Gary, we’ll probably see this mystery roommate eventually.” she stalks off in her high heels, skirt swishing about her knees. Gary gives you a glare before following.

You wonder if you’ve lost some potential friends.

“Well, they were rude.”

You yelp and whirl around, your own hair smacking into your face.

Reagan smiles at you, wearing an eye searing orange hoodie and bright pink sweatpants. They are pulling their Hello Kitty suitcase behind them and you have no idea how you didn’t hear them approach.

“I was just heading out and saw you about to start your tour so I decided to say hi.” They tsk and shake their head. “But instead I hear some truly rude people. Those two won’t make any friends like that. Are you okay, though?”

You work your jaw and give them a watery smile. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine.” For some reason the question makes the two’s snubbing hurt even worse.

Reagan looks into the distance, seeming lost in thought. It goes on long enough you shuffle uncertainly. Just as you’re about to speak they meet your eyes and give you a grin. “Don’t worry about people like them. Oh! Here, you should wear this.” They reach into their hoodie pocket and pull out a bead bracelet. It’s made of those cheap plastic beads you get in kid jewellry making kits. All you can tell is that the colours are bright and many, pinning down the pattern or naming any makes your head hurt.

You accept it.

For some reason you slip it onto your wrist. It’s made of that stretchy string you get in the kits and easily fits. Against your wrist you can see some of the beads are the white letter ones and you flip them over.

Your name.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to your tour. See ya!” Reagan turns, the suitcase making no noise as it runs over the gravel. Their hood is bulging outwards and you can see a black, fluffy tail draped over the edge. Two bright yellow eyes stare at you.

You are not sure when you return to the group. The tour guide’s don’t mention it, in fact they avoid looking at you altogether. You listen to the speeches about the cafeteria and how to use meal points. You follow as they show everyone the library, the on site gym, hand out maps for campus. You rub the bracelet, feeling the square beads in between the round ones.

You… are pretty sure you never told anyone your full name.

Nothing you own has your full name on it.

Only your student number was on your assigned room sheet.

After the tour everyone is herded into the cafeteria for lunch (provided by the school specifically for the freshman). You find your floors RA and tap her on the shoulder. She turns, giving you a customer service generic smile.

“Uh, you wanted to see me after the tour?”

The other older students she was talking to peer at you curiously. Harris is the only one actively avoiding looking at you.

“Oh! Excellent, just give me a sec, you guys.” You follow when she walks into an unoccupied corner. “Okay, your roommate was there when you went to your room, right?”

“Uh… yeah.”

“Thought so. So the… uh, previous roommate left some stuff and I figured you could use it.”

“What? Like… clothes? Shouldn’t that stuff be given to, um, someone else?”

She laughs and reaches into her pocket. “Not that kind of stuff.” She pulls out a bag of dried salmon cat treats, a small toy mouse, and a pair of glasses with one of the lenses cracked.You take it because she won’t stop holding the stuff out to you expectantly.

You stare at it. “Um, doesn’t this cat stuff belong to my roommate?”

She shakes her head. “You’ll need it. But don’t wear those,” she points to the glasses. “All the time. They’re brushed with iron. Don’t want to see stuff you shouldn’t!” She laughs, too bright, too loud. “Well, good luck!” And she leaves you standing there with an armful of weird cat things and a pair of useless glasses. You don’t even wear glasses. Actually… you touch the lenses. They’re plastic.


anonymous asked:

how do you think John talked to Sherlock about the ILY scene?

So when I got this ask it ended up inspiring me a little. My answer is going to be a little ficlet instead of a legit answer, so hopefully that won’t bother you lol. Besides, I don’t think this is totally out of the realm of possibility. We can happily imagine…

There’s Still A Chance

John pulled the blanket around his shoulders a little tighter in the back seat of the police cruiser and let out a heavy sigh. “God, I can’t wait to hold Rosie,” he murmured.

Sherlock continued staring silently out his window.

“Hey,” John prodded gently, making his friend turn. “You did good today. You should be proud.”

Sherlock barely smiled. “People did die, John.”

He nodded. “Yeah but some people didn’t. Your parents still have all three of their children because of you. I get to go home and raise my daughter because of you. You did that.”

John cleared his throat a minute later, after some more silence had set in, deciding it was a reasonable time to unearth another more specific topic.


Sherlock’s head whirled round again to meet his gaze before swallowing thickly and facing ahead.

“Yes,” he answered softly, perhaps a little nervously.

“So during that phone call you- you told her you…” John started slowly, and Sherlock took the bait.

“I did think she was about to die, John.”

John shook his head and smiled. “I knew you were gonna say that. I knew that’s what you were going to say when I brought this up. Sherlock, look, I’m not talking about how it happened. I don’t care if she was surrounded by bombs or in a cage or in that coffin or if she was just standing there in front of you. The point is…you meant it.”

Sherlock kept his gaze straight ahead but John could detect a shift in his demeanor.

John boldly repeated his statement. “Sherlock, you meant it.”

Finally, the stoic detective turned and looked him in the eye, speaking not much above a whisper.

“Maybe I did.”

“Ok,” John acknowledged, nodding slowly. “So you meant it. So then…what now? I mean, I know you don’t typically do…that sort of thing but I can’t help wonder if things might be different now. Things should be different now, I’d think. You’ve scoffed at sentiment for years but, mate, what saved you today? What saved everyone who walked away today? It wasn’t cold unfeeling logic, I can tell you that much for sure. If that’s all you had you never would have won. Because I think we all know Eurus has got you beat in that department. No, what saved us was your heart. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

Sherlock pressed his lips together nervously, no argument to offer, likely because he knew there was none to be had.

“So…” John pressed on. “What now?”

Sherlock inhaled and released the air from his lungs slowly, the plain old oxygen probably filling in for the comfort of nicotine that he’d never fully stop craving. Finally he squared his shoulders and his eyes brightened just a bit.

“Do you know, John, I believe you’ve already told me what to do next.”

John tilted his head and frowned in question. “Have I?”

Sherlock gave him a little smirk and cleared his throat in preparation to repeat the words. “Text her, phone her, do something…while there’s still a chance.”

John’s lips lifted slowly in a smile at his familiar wording before returning the favor and repeating words of Sherlock’s. “If you’d like to know how I predict the future…”

Sherlock chuckled. “No need to be smug, John.”

“Ooh, I think there’s need. Anytime I’m in the right I think I’ll have to use the chance to be just a bit smug.”

Before anything else could be said, John leaned forward toward the front seat. “Scuse me, could we use your mobile?”

The driver immediately complied, passing the device to John. Sherlock looked a little frightened as John settled back in his seat and reached his hand over, holding out the phone for him to take. Of course he was frightened, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t finally ready.

“While there’s still a chance,” John repeated softly, giving another gentle push.

Finally, slowly, Sherlock reached out and took the phone. He stared at it in his hands then, motionless before once again speaking the words that were quickly becoming like a mantra for him, making his fingers move to dial the familiar sequence of numbers.

“While there’s still a chance.”

holy shittt we can rule out the possibility of reign being lenas mom bc if reign was her mom that would mean lena has alien dna so she wouldn’t have passed the little device that can tell you who or who is not an alien by a thumbprint. she used it on herself and it turned red but later she used it on rhea and it turned green. thank goddd

Make Me Red (Suga)

Originally posted by kuromel

Type: Fluff

Request: Hi ! I would like to ask a scenario for Suga where you decided to visit him when he is on tour and you walked into his room while he was doing his Vlive . And he got flustered .. Super duper fluff please . Thank you . Btw , I really love your writing.

Yoongi was overly happy to have you there to see him, the boys had planned it all out to have you come out. You were his secret girlfriend that the public had no idea about yet. He would be smiling and pleased with you there, he missed you so much over the month that not even video calls could fill his needs of wanting you in his arms but there you had been sitting on his bed waiting for him to get back and he nearly tackled you into the bed in that moment.


He sat calmly against his bed as he read the comments that flooded. His eyes were darting trying to read them after he gave his intro and what not for his part. He was doing his segment of VLive while you were in the shower before he would pass it off to the boys in the other room. Soon the bathroom door opened and he glanced over before he felt his face warm up. 

You were there with wet hair, his shirt, and panties as he glanced back at the camera he sat up turning away from the direction he had just looked “so guys I have to go” he said as he headed to the door putting his back against it before he opened it. “Don’t worry I’m alright just a little warm” he told them as he passed the device on the selfie stick to Hoseok before he rushed back to his room. 


You looked over at him after you sat down on the bed “what’s wrong?” you asked him as his face was just as red as before hand. “Why would you walk out in that?” he asked as you chuckle “I always wear this to bed. It’s your favorite, right?” you tease sitting up on your knees look at him “yeah it is but the fans will see me so bright” he whines as he climbs onto bed. You simply bump his nose with yours before smiling “I’m sorry” you coo as he pressed his lips against yours lightly “it’s alright. I really missed it” he whispers as he laid down and you did too. He smiled as he touched your cheek lightly before pulling you in.

Prompt/Request - Gal Friday [Pt 2]

Anonymous said:

Your stories are frigging awesome. I fell in love with Gal Friday and it’s the best boss and Asst fic I have ever read in any fandom. You made Sakura so Bamf without Mary sue tendencies. I am desperately hoping for a small sneak peek into Sakura and Sauce’s interactions at the office from Sauce’s Point of view. It can just be a one-shot as I know you are very busy. Take your time and keep up the awesomeness Kuri.

Keep reading


A one-shot sequel to We Intertwined

An Ignis Scientia Story
Word Count: 2,550

A/N: Here it is! One of my one-shot sequels to my Ignis x Raine story. I have another one coming soon that starts where this one leaves off. Lots of angst under the cut.

“How far along are you?”

Raine shrugged. She was leaned against the wall beside Dave’s shop near the marketplace in Lestallum, subconsciously rubbing the base of her stomach. “Doctor says around six or seven weeks.”

Dave whistled low. “Has be really been gone for that long?”

Keep reading

Hey, Hot Stuff {Zen x MC}

           Hey you guys, yes! I am back! After about… what has it been, two weeks after basically ghosting you all I am here. I’m sorry that I’ve been gone for so long. I’ve just been really busy… and depressed… but now I’m slightly less of both of those things. I promise that I will be better at writing more. I would like to thank my amazing friend @yuri-on-a-messenger for allowing me to use her username as the Tumblr user you were messaging in this fic. She writes amazing stuff, so go check her blog out. I love her so much and you should love her too, tbh. She’s awesome.

Anyways, 고고씽~!


           Sitting in Jaehee’s café next to Zen after practice for his latest musical never really seemed like a bad idea before. Even when you got there it didn’t seem like too bad of an idea. That was until one of your best friends sent you a message through Tumblr. That’s how you had met, and though you had never met in person, you considered yourselves to be incredibly close. That being said, honestly, it was not the time for what the conversation had led up to. Zen was talking to Jaehee for the time being, so you figured that you might as well just answer.

           yuri-on-a-messenger: Hey, (MC). What are you doing?

           (MC): Nothing much. I met a friend at a café after he finished practice.

           Seconds later, she responded.

           yuri-on-a-messenger: Ooooh. Is this friend who I think he is?

           You rolled your eyes at her blatant teasing. Regardless, you complied in answering her

           (MC): Maaaaaaybe…

           yuri-on-a-messenger: “He’s just so nice and caring. I think he’s just, like, the best guy ever. And his acting! Don’t even get me started on his acting! The way he gets into character is just amazing!”

           (MC): Shut up! I don’t talk like that.

           yuri-on-a-messenger: Dude

           yuri-on-a-messenger: I have the receipts

           yuri-on-a-messenger: Don’t even try me because I will send them

           (MC): Okay, okay. I’ll admit that I do like him. But, again, like I’ve said, he’s a celebrity. I’m just his friend and moral supporter. I don’t rea-

           In the middle of typing your message, you got interrupted by a certain someone sitting next to you in the booth. “So, who are you texting? What are you talking about?” He asked jokingly.

           Bringing your phone to your chest, you glance up timidly, “Nothing. No one. Why?” You stuttered.

           He got a slightly annoyed look on his face, “Well don’t explode. It was just a question.” He responded with a bit of attitude.

           Maybe it was because you had never held back who you had been texting, or about what, from him. But you didn’t really pay mind to that when it came to the fact that you had been talking about him. “It was, um, just a friend. I was talking to a friend. Yeah.” You managed to let out.

           “A friend, huh?” He interrogated.

           “Mmhmm.” You replied, nodding hastily.

           “Okay.” Was all he said, but he didn’t buy a word that came out of your mouth. You saw him passive-aggressively sipping his drink, and with that, you automatically changed the subject.


           A friend? What kind of “friend”? He thought, racking his brain for any ideas. This had never happened before. When did (MC) start hiding her conversations from him, the actor thought. His eyes widened at his next thought. What if it was a guy that she had met? Is that why she didn’t want to tell him?

           Zen felt metaphorical smoke leave his ears. He couldn’t even fathom why he felt so blatantly possessive of her. He couldn’t help it. They were such good friends that he had to protect her. That was the reason why right?


           Sighing, you threw yourself onto the bed in your apartment. You were no longer living in at Rika’s anymore so you could throw yourself anywhere in the house without worry. You fiddled with your phone, attempting to message your friend again. It had been a few weeks since you had last seen Zen. Lately, he hadn’t really been talking to you, in the messenger, or in a private thread. He hadn’t even invited you out or sent a text to see if you were even doing okay. Besides hiding your messages to your friend, about him, from him, what had you done wrong? Why was he acting this way towards you? You had a right to your privacy, right? At least that’s what you thought.

           (MC): Yo, yo. What’s up?

           It took the college student time to respond, but within minutes, you heard your phone chime

           yuri-on-a-messenger: Please never say that again.

           (MC): What? I just asked ‘what’s up?’

           yuri-on-a-messenger: You’re not going to make me repeat it, are you?

           (MC): Ha-ha, no.

           You responded as you heard a knock on the door. Setting your phone on the coffee table by the door, you answered it.

           Lo and behold, a certain white-haired actor stood in front of you. “Oh, hey, Zen. You’re here?” You blurted out as if it were a question.

           He cleared his throat, awkwardly. It was unlike him. Usually, he was so suave and collected. “Uh, yeah. Sorry for intruding.”

           “Oh… It’s no problem. Come in.” You responded, leading him to the couch.

           “So, what have you been up to?” He started off, awkwardly.

           “Nothing much. I took a cool picture of my latte this morning, but that’s pretty much it.” You responded, picking your phone up off the table and handing it to him.

           You two were so close that, of course, he knew your password. You took your phone briefly to pull it up and then gave it back to him. He looked at the picture and smiled. Maybe you had gone a tad overboard with it, adding whipped cream and cinnamon atop the hot beverage. “Looks like you knew what you were doing” He commented.

           You giggled, “Not really. I just try really hard” You let out as a message notification sounded from your phone. Zen looked down at it impulsively, as did you.

           yuri-on-a-messenger: So, what’s up, hot stuff? Sorry I…

The preview read. These kinds of teasing nicknames were commonplace in your friendship. Of course, Zen didn’t know that, nor did he know who this was. Of course, it was only natural that he would jump to conclusions.

           You saw rage bubble behind his normally kind, yet intense eyes. He promptly gave passed the device back to you. “You might want to answer that,” he mumbled.

           “I…” you started, “Okay. I guess so.” You said, responding to the conversation. You let her know that it was okay that she was busy, and that you were busy at the moment, too. As soon as you finished, you turned your attention back to the man sitting next to you. He was leaning towards you when you turned away, only to find him leaning against the other armrest, mindlessly scrolling through his SNS feed. “Zen? Are you alright” There was concern lacing your words.

           He, though, clearly tried to play this off as if he was just fine. “Peachy. Why do you ask?” He deadpanned.

           “You’re such a liar. You say you’re fine, yet you make no effort to appear that way.” Maybe you were trying to provoke him. You knew that he would let his true feelings out if you pushed hard enough.

           “I’m not lying, though.” He responded. “I am fine.”

           “Then, if you’re so ‘fine’, why won’t you even look at me when you talk to me?” You pushed.

           “Because I can’t stand the idea of you possibly being in a relationship with someone that isn’t me. There, I said it! Are you happy now? Will you stop pushing me and asking so many questions? Will you stop trying to provoke me?” He rambled, raising his voice. Instinctively, you backed up a little from where you were sitting. Realising what he had just said, he looked down. You could tell he didn’t intend to let all of those feelings and emotions out.

           Sighing, you got down on the floor, and kneeled down in front of him, taking his hands. “Zen…” You paused, resting your fingers under his chin as you guided his eyes to meet yours. Reluctantly, he complied. “Why would you ever even begin to think that I would be in a relationship with anyone right now?”

           “Well, for starters, ‘what’s up, hot stuff?’” He answered, making air quotes.

           “Nothing much, you?” You joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

           “No, I meant-

           “I know what you meant. You want to see a picture of who I was talking to?” He nodded slowly. “Okay… Just give me a second.” You swiftly pulled up the messages and showed him the profile picture of the account. It showed a glasses-clad girl with blonde hair.

           “Who’s this?” He asked, obviously confused.

           “This,” you said, shaking your phone, “is one of my closest internet friends. I met her through mutual interests, and we talk all the time. We’re so close that we just use random nicknames like ‘hot stuff’, just to mess with each other.”

           “Is this who you were talking to that day at Jaehee’s?” He went on to ask. You nodded, a smile donning your face. “Then… Why did you hide the messages?”

           “Well… She was kinda teasing me about you. I had told her that I was with you and she started to say all these things that I had told her in the past.”


           “How I said that you were a great actor… And how you shone up on stage… And how you were really attractive.”

           “And?” He teased. He could probably tell that you were holding something back.

           “And how I have a huge crush on you.”

           “Do you, now?”

           You laughed, “Yes… I guess you could say that you got what you wanted.”

           His smile changed to an expression of confusion. “What do you mean?”

           “I’m not in a relationship with anyone.”

           “Well,” he paused, “maybe we’ll just have to change that.” He replied, pulling you up to him and kissing you softly on your cheek, “What do you say?”

           Smiling, you nodded, and he took that as an opportunity to tenderly press his lips to yours.

anonymous asked:

what exactly did luke DO back on tatooine? like, what was his life as a member of the slave rebellion like? you've made it sound pretty wild (vandalism, accessory to grand theft, gunrunning) but I Need To Know More?

Well the “grand theft” charge in fact refers to stealing people. Or it would, if they could ever pin anything on him.

Luke was mostly involved with running people to safety, helping to hide them on his family’s farm, and in particular helping Aunt Beru perform the surgeries to remove transmitters in the hidden room off their garage. By the laws of the Hutts, that makes him guilty of grand theft and accessory to grand theft.

By the time Luke was a teenager, and starting to get pretty heavily involved with the freedom trail, the scanner had spread through most of the underground network. The stories say that Ekkreth stole the secret of the scanner from the Depuran and gave it to the people. And Ekkreth wears a hundred thousand shapes and works with a hundred thousand hands, making modifications, passing the device along, spreading from safe house to safe house and giving the people the tools they need to steal themselves.

Luke himself has made a couple of modifications to the scanner: he’s made the design more streamlined, smaller, easier to hide. And, of course, he’s used it quite a lot himself.

They have a system, Luke and Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen. Aunt Beru is the surgeon. She was Grandmother Shmi’s student and her hands are steady and strong. She teaches Luke, too, and he’s performed a few surgeries himself. But usually his job is to work the scanner, and then to talk the person through the operation, to help them in any way he can. Uncle Owen runs interference and makes sure that everyone is fed and safe, and sometimes he pays off the right people when it has to be done.

And, of course, there’s the farming business to attend to, as well. They all do that.

And okay, maybe sometimes Luke likes to sneak out with his friends, and maybe they’ve tagged a building or ten, and maybe there was one time they almost got caught red-handed by Bib Fortuna himself. But they didn’t. That’s the important thing.

And yeah, all right, maybe Luke’s run guns a few times, but that’s not a big deal. Everyone on Tatooine has run guns at least once. It’s just something people do.

(A few years later, Luke casually mentions some of these things to his new Rebel friends, because really they aren’t a big deal so sometimes they just slip out in conversation.

Wedge stares into the camera like he’s on the Office.)

Me and AC characters go to a Museum
  • Altair: Everything is so ancient....
  • Malik: just like you.
  • Altair: ....excuse me?
  • Malik: there is an empty box for display, signed "Novice" just for you
  • Altair: ...
  • Altair: ...fuck off.
  • --
  • Ezio: *looks under the skirts of manikins*
  • Ezio: They lied.
  • Ezio: they haven't applied "A Very Detailed Work" truthfully.
  • --
  • Leonardo: HOW EXCITING!
  • --
  • Connor: can...
  • Connor: can I...
  • Cannot: Can I ride that?
  • Me: ...that's a skeleton of a dinosaur...
  • Connor: where can I get one? I want a pet dinosaur...
  • -
  • Haytham: oh, Connor, I found your people!
  • Connor: :D !
  • Haytham: *reads* The Cave men.
  • Connor: D: oh fuck you!
  • --
  • Ziio: *finds the section of the Native culture*
  • Ziio: *starts dancing and singing in her language*
  • Haytham: o.o what the fuck did I fall in love with?
  • --
  • Charles: *has a sudden deep connection with ancient Egyptians*
  • --
  • Hickey: *always at the bar*
  • --
  • Aveline: *passes torture devices section*
  • Aveline: hehe, anus triangle...
  • --
  • Edward: IT'S A SHIP
  • Edward: what wench put 'boat' into a description of a ship!?
  • --
  • Shay: mmm...
  • Shay: ouuuuuu
  • Shay: Ahhhh...
  • Shay: ..... Penguins can be different...*listens to the educational video in the Arctic section*
  • Shay: *sea vessels section* lol, Morrigan is better.
  • Shay: Oh my god them rifles though... *weapongasm*
  • --
  • Gist: *has an adventure alone*
  • --
  • Arno: BAGUETTE!
  • Arno: *spits* It's plastic!
  • Arno: oh my god...
  • Arno: *gets emotional on every wrong detail, goes home sobbing*
  • --
  • Elise: lol he has a little plastic penis.
  • Elise: lol look she has smaller boobs than me.
  • Me: ....they are just manikins...
  • Elise: still small, hehe

Yes! Party Time!! Update 6/19

First, you might notice that the title screen has been updated for this event! Check it out when you start the game up.

Yes! Party Time!! Outfits

The dress shop has been updated with a new outfit set! The “Yes! Party Time!!” outfits can be worn by all idols. The set costs 2500 paid jewels (bought with real money) and also comes with a ticket for a pick 10 in the Platinum Gacha.


Some “Yes! Party Time!!” themed room items have been added to the room shop. Once your device passes 3 PM, you can see buy these items

  • Standing Table
  • Pipe Chair
  • Pop-up - Yes! Party Time!!
  • Center Stage - Yes! Party Time!!
  • Left Stage - Yes! Party Time!!
  • Right Stage - Yes! Party Time!!
  • Speaker
  • Stage Light
  • Fan Fencing - Cheering, Plain
  • Neon Sign - Yes! Party Time!!
  • Monitor - Yes! Party Time!!
  • Mirror Ball
  • Party Live Set Wall
  • Party Live Set Floor
  • Party Live Set Background

head-bitch-inquisitor  asked:

Ooh do 28!!

Yes! Now that I know you’re all caught up, I can finally post this! This is probably my favorite prompt fill I’ve done so far, and it was a ton of fun to write. 

This prompt fill happens after The Sacrament, so if you aren’t caught up on the Santa Sarita series, you might want to do that first.

Also, just a reminder that I love doing prompts for these two! So if there’s something you’d like to see, let me know!

“I don’t care that it’s 2:00 AM, we need pie!” Scott’s slurred voice startled Sara awake.

“What?” She said, sitting up and clutching the sheets to her chest. She wasn’t wearing nearly enough clothing for unexpected visitors.

“Babe,” Gil’s voice chased him through the door to her quarters. “Leave her be. Nobody cares that you want pie.” Even the engineer’s voice was slower than usual. How late had they stayed up, drinking and playing cards? And were they seriously talking about pie?

Scott stumbled into the room in his Blasto tank and lounge pants. His face was bright red with the effects of too much booze, and a petulant frown tugged at his mouth. He plopped onto the foot of the bed and looked to Sara, who was too bewildered to say anything. Her brother’s head wobbled on his neck as he looked at her, and then a mischievous grin came over his face.

“I bet Reyes would care,” he announced to the room. “Reyes is my buddy.”

“Scott,” she said, her voice a clear warning. “Don’t.”

He only grinned wider. They were en route to Kadara, but she had no intention of seeing the Charlatan while they were planetside. She hadn’t seen him since, well… it’d been awhile. And for both their sakes they’d agreed it should stay that way.

And then Scott was dialing him.

Sara reached for her twin’s wrist, but he jumped from the bed and to the other side of the room. Sara was about to chase after him, her own sense of propriety be damned, when the call was answered.

“Scott?” Reyes’ smooth, accented voice filled the room, stealing her breath. “What’s wrong? Why are you calling me?”

The fear in his voice tore at her heart and she felt tears threaten to fall. She looked at Gil standing in the doorway, as if he could help her now.

“I’m sorry,” he mouthed. His face was almost as red as Scott’s, but she thought mortification at the situation had more to do with it than alcohol.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Scott said to Reyes, oblivious to the exchange between her and Gil. “Except, it’s 2 AM and I am tragically bereft of pie!”

“You’re drunk,” Reyes accused with a chuckle.

“Eh,” Scott shrugged. “Potatoes, pota-” he paused, confused. “Wait…”

The laugh that filtered through the omnitool was warm and throaty, and it brought forth a wave of pleasant memories. Reyes on the Tempest, laughing with her crew, her family. His bare skin as he cooked dinner for her in the tiny prefab in Varren’s Scalp. His shared laughter with Scott in the Vortex, the very first time they’d met.

She shut down those thoughts and refocused on the cringe-worthy scene before her.

“Is Sara there?” Reyes asked.

Scott looked to her, and she shook her head violently, her sandy brown hair whipping at her face.

Scott looked back to the vidcall. “She says ‘no’.”

Gil dropped his head into one hand, and Sara closed her eyes and took deep, measured breaths. There was an awkward silence, and then Reyes let out a pained sigh.

“What about Gil?”

The engineer jumped forward, one hand clamping onto Scott’s shoulder. “Present!” He nearly shouted. “So sorry, Vidal. I’ll get him to bed straight away.”

Scott made to protest, but his boyfriend’s glare convinced him otherwise. 

“Goodnight, Reyes,” he said instead.

There was a long, quiet moment before he replied.

Sara’s blood went cold as she waited for his response. What was he thinking? Was he mad? Did he hate Scott for calling him at some ungodly hour? Did he hate her for refusing to speak with him? Did he hate her for her decision all those months ago? Did he miss her the way she missed him?

“Goodnight, Ryder,” he said finally, his voice soft and resigned. And she knew the words weren’t meant for her brother.

They were for her.

The next morning Sara stood in the cargo hold with Vetra, helping her friend inventory a new shipment from the Collective.

“There’s something here for Scott,” the turian called from the other side of the Nomad.

Sara moved to look at the fairly small, square box that sat nestled into a larger crate.

“There’s a note,” Vetra said, handing a datapad to Sara.


You’re a difficult man to please, especially on such short notice. I hope you like angaran fruit!

Give my best to the Pathfinder and her team.

                                               - R

Sara smiled at the datapad and shook her head, a little chuckle of disbelief falling from her lips. She passed the device back to Vetra.

“Better go let brother-dearest know that he has a special delivery.” She spun on her heel and marched up the ramp toward the crew quarters, leaving a very confused turian blinking behind her. As the door hissed open to reveal the hallway she heard Vetra’s voice from the cargo bay.

“Is this a pie?”

During supper, Bilbo and Nori started arguing about a particular event during the quest. They each believed that it had happened differently, even bringing up details to insist that they were correct. While they were trying to prove the other wrong, I pulled up our written accounts and searched for the event that they spoke of. Eventually I found it and passed my device to Bilbo so that he may read what happened.

Bilbo swore quietly and admitted his fault. It would seem Nori had a better memory for these things, though I am not surprised. Nori has shown to have an almost terrifyingly detailed memory.

Bilbo pulled at one of his curls, his eyebrows down as he reread the post. “Looks like I’ll have to change that chapter in the book,” he said softly.

We all paused, staring at Bilbo as he continued to read. He finally noticed the silence and looked up to find our eyebrows raised at him. The tips of his ears turned red at the stares.

“You’re writing a book, Bilbo?” Fíli asked, breaking the quiet.

“Is it about the quest?” Kíli added.

“Hopefully it doesn’t involve every detail,” Dwalin said under his breath, smirking.

“It certainly does not,” Bilbo said, the red spreading to his cheeks. “It would be hundreds of pages long if I included everything we said or ate or all the places we stopped to camp. But… yes. I’m writing a book, if you all must know.”

“Does it have a title?” I asked.

Bilbo gave a small smile at this. “Oh yes, I thought of it almost before I wrote the first chapter. It’s called, ‘There and Back Again.’”

Dwalin, Nori, and my nanaddan asked more questions, even asking if they could read what Bilbo had written so far. I know, however, that although he posted quite often during the quest, Bilbo was rather protective of his writings. It is good to hear that he is writing about it, though, as I had quietly worried that he would have wanted to forget about it, considering some of the hardships he went through.

Buzzing Bella: Part II

“I want daddy to do it.”

Bella, age six, was stark naked as she uttered the words. Her tiny hands were clenched into fists, and she stared at me pleadingly with tear-filled eyes. Her expression mirrored that of her father, Chris, who was sitting cross-legged on the ground next to us. Meanwhile, I was on my knees, holding a pistol-like medical device limply by my side, feeling like some sort of evil monster.  

“Bella, sweetie, we told you,” said daddy in his best, most soothing voice. “Samantha is changing your pump site today. You have to let her try. Please?”

“Nooo,” she wailed, the suggestion barely out of his mouth. 

She turned her fists backwards to shield her exposed rear where, moments earlier, I attempted to align the menacing contraption, which she was now eyeing with great intensity.

Her dread, though highly inconvenient, was justified. If she allowed it, the apparatus would pierce her skin with a long needle, leaving behind a few millimeters of plastic tubing. We would then connect the tube to an insulin drip, which she would be forced to wear on a small pack around her waist at all times—the synthetic solution to the destruction of her body’s beta cells when she was just a baby. The doctors called it type 1 diabetes, but Bella just called it unfair.

I was also diagnosed with T1D as an infant, which perhaps made the situation worse. I understood her trepidation completely, while also being the source of her despair. As one of my fingers inched idly toward the trigger on the insertion device, Bella—watching me like a hawk—flinched horribly, swatted the tool out of my hands and onto the floor, and erupted into renewed hysterics.

My chest ached watching her cry. She was visibly shaking; her innocent brain trying desperately to comprehend what she had done to deserve such terrible punishment. Somewhere in the depths of my mind, a visual of a familiar little girl with bright blue, watery eyes manifested. A younger version of my mother appeared above her holding an insulin-filled syringe, begging the girl to stop squirming. 

Originally posted by slashermovie

The girl sobbed, “Mommy, no, please!” and drew her knees tighter toward her chest. I nearly dropped the device again in an act of surrender, whatever resolve I had mustered at the start of the task fading along with the memory.

Chris and I exchanged dejected glances. I knew he, too, would give anything to alter the circumstances so that his beautiful little girl was no longer subjected to an endless procession of pokes and prods. Yet we had an obligation to her health—he as her parent, and me as her babysitter—though such logic was meaningless in the face of her immediate fear.

“Bella,” Chris began once more, and this time his voice was firm.

“Samantha is going to change your site this weekend—whether you like it or not—because mommy and I will be on vacation. Wouldn’t you rather she practiced while we’re still here?”

“No!” she screamed with finality, and it was clear there was no hope of me succeeding. Defeated, I passed the insertion device to Chris and left the room to assuage his daughter’s growing fear that I would attack her the minute her white-knuckled fists unclenched.  

A short while later, Bella returned to her bedroom fully-clothed with a crisp pump site on her butt, gnawing forlornly on the lollipop she had been promised as collateral for her cooperation. Back in the kitchen, I tried my best to convince Chris that he and his wife need not cancel their trip—their first ever since Bella’s diagnosis— assuring him that I would devise a genius strategy for Saturday when her next site change was due.

“You have my permission to use whatever means necessary,” Chris offered. “Treats, gifts, lies. Whatever it takes. If you promise her something that you can’t immediately deliver, we’ll take care of it when we’re home.”

“Don’t worry,” I said with all the confidence I could muster. The echo of my younger self weeping at the sight of a syringe lingered below the surface, but I continued: “I’m sure I can handle it. I’m sure everything is going to be just fine.”

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

Only I was exceptionally, most certainly, unsure. How was I going to convince headstrong Bella to allow me anywhere close when our test run had gone so awry? Whatever trust I had gained as her babysitter evaporated the minute her dad passed me a loaded needle-gun with her name on it.

Though I willed it not to come, the weekend abruptly arrived. Bella’s parents departed with the sole instruction to text or call any time for anything (“no really, anything”) and I halfheartedly assured them that they had absolutely nothing to fear. After tucking Bella into bed, I spent Friday evening imagining various worst case scenarios before eventually drifting into a heavy sleep, punctured only by visions of giants wielding skyscraper-sized syringes.

The next morning, Bella sat across from me at the kitchen counter shoveling cereal into her mouth, talking animatedly about her friend Sasha who had once succeeded in lodging a cocoa puff into her left nostril.

“That’s crazy,” I said, but I was hardly listening. Instead, I was preparing my opening, though there seemed to be no good time. Bracing myself for the inevitable rebuttal, I began, “Hey, what do you think? Should we do your site change before or after dinner?”

She twirled her spoon in the air thinking for a moment, and then decided, “Mmm, after.” I breathed a sigh of relief, taking it as a positive sign that she had not challenged the idea outright.  

The morning and afternoon passed without issue. We went to the park, played board games, had lunch, corrected a low, corrected a high, watched TV, and finally, had dinner. As Bella pressed me for dessert, I decided I could wait no longer.

“You can have dessert, but only after we do your site change.”

To my surprise, she nodded without contest, and headed toward the bathroom where I had placed a freshly primed insertion set by the sink.

When we arrived, she removed her pajama bottoms and turned her back to me with unnerving complaisance. As I aligned the device against her lower back, she craned her neck backwards and instructed to the top of my head, “Count down from ten before you do it.”

“Of course, whatever you want,” I said.

“And you have to say ‘zero.’ Don’t do it until you get to zero,” she added, sternly.

I pinky promised to follow her rules, and—once satisfied with the positioning—I began the requested countdown.

“Ten, nine, eight,” I recited.

Bella shifted nervously, watching my hands with the intensity of a cop staring down a perpetrator.

“…seven, six, five, four…”

She was now bouncing from leg to leg, biting her bottom lip. Her nervous movements made it difficult to hold the device in the correct spot, but I did not dare ask her to stop for fear of jeopardizing her compliance.

“…three, two, one!” and I pulled the trigger, but the positioning was all wrong. Bella leaped backwards with a curdling yelp as the tip of the needle jabbed her, missing its mark, but still delivering a sharp jolt of pain.  

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, sweetie! Are you okay?”

“You didn’t say zero!” she bawled, her face red and contracted, her sobs bellowing from her chest and echoing into the bathtub where she had collapsed in shock.

Originally posted by ba1n3s

Whether or not she felt as much pain as she dramatized, I had completely botched the first attempt. This meant we would have to do it all over again. The only problem was that, this time, Bella was not quite so eager to participate. In fact, she was very much hysterical.

And so began a series of bribes for which I am not entirely proud.

“Mommy and daddy said that if you do a good job, they’ll take you to the toy store and buy you ANYTHING you want. What do you say?”

“No!” Bella wailed, her knuckles clenched in defense, snot and tears running down her pitiful face.

“Remember I promised you that dessert? Well, it’s waiting for you in the kitchen. All we have to do is get that site on you.”

“No!” she cried, and I caught her side-eyeing herself in the mirror, clearly impressed with her own performance.

“Bella,” I barked, changing tactics. “If you don’t turn around and let me put on your site, you’re grounded all day tomorrow. No TV. No iPad. Nothing.”

“I don’t care!” she spat.

She crossed her arms and stepped onto the toilet seat so as to position herself above me as I continued to kneel pathetically on the floor. Though tears were still leaking from her bloodshot eyes, she did not hesitate to reclaim control when presented with the opportunity. It was clear to both of us that I was completely powerless.

I scoured my brain for another bribe, another threat; but nothing came. The problem was that I understood exactly how she felt; utterly helpless and full of dread, the anticipation of the pain worse than the actual insertion. At least she trusted her father enough to know he would never hurt her intentionally, I thought. Unfortunately, I had not built enough rapport in this area to make her feel safe. Yet there was no alternative. We would have to sit here until she calmed down, even if it took all night, as I was the only adult in the vicinity trained in the procedure…

Suddenly, a brilliant, crazy idea hit me with such intensity I jumped to my feet. Though my mind was racing, I tried to speak as calmly as possible.

“Alright, Bella. I get it. You don’t want me to do it,” to which she nodded theatrically, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands.

“So I’m not going to.”

“Huh?” she said, forgetting that she was supposed to be acting victimized.

“I’m not gunna do it. I don’t want to hurt you or make you more upset.”

She glared at me suspiciously, her mind searching for the loophole.

“Then who will? Daddy said you need to do it,” she added, suddenly keen on following instructions.

“Well, I don’t want to anymore. But you can do it.”

“What? Me?”

“Yes, you. You’re going to do your own site change, Bella! What do you say?”

She clapped her hands to her mouth, and then a sly grin crept across her wet face.

“But…how? I’ve never done it before.”

“I’ll teach you. Here,” I said, and I placed the insertion device into her small hand to show her just how serious I was.

She cradled the tool with a mixture of fear and curiosity. Then, recalling all the times she had seen her father do it, she placed the prongs of the instrument delicately on her hip, angling the needle slightly, careful not to graze the trigger.

“Like this?” she asked.

“Up a little more,” I said, and I reached over gently to demonstrate. With some hesitancy, she allowed me to position her hands and adjust the device accordingly.

“There, that’s perfect.”

She admired her work and absorbed the compliment. Then, the smile faded from her face as it dawned on her that the next logical step was to release the needle.

“Go ahead,” I prompted.

“I’m scared,” she said.

“Okay. Well, if you don’t feel ready then I guess I’ll have to do it,” I suggested.

“No!” she yelled, and with amusement, I realized how quickly she had weighed the pros and cons of the situation, settling easily on the option where she had the most power.

Despite my continued compliments on her form, she could not muster the courage to pull the trigger even after several demonstrations. At her request, I obtained an additional insertion set and allowed her to pull and release the needle multiple times into my thigh so she could get a feel for the technique. Finally, after I could no longer justify another puncture wound, she felt confident enough to try again on herself.

“Okay, you’re gunna count down again,” she said. “And this time don’t forget zero!”

I agreed, and began the count, hoping this was finally it. As I hit four, however, Bella lost her nerve and dislodged the device, forcing us to begin the process once more. I was beginning to lose my patience, especially as it dawned on me that she had been without her insulin pump for nearly an hour.

“…seven, six, five…”

“Samantha, I’m scared!”

“…four, three, two…”

“I can’t do it!”

“Bella, please! I know you can do it. You got this, c’mon!”

She stared at her feet, clearly not believing me. Then, in almost a whisper, she asked,“…will you be proud of me if I do it?”

Originally posted by lil-snuggle-swirl

The purity of the question caught me off guard, and in spite of my frustration, I dropped to my knees, softening my expression.

“Oh, sweetie. If you do this, I will be so, so proud of you. As proud as I’ve ever been. And mommy and daddy will be, too. Just think about how wonderful it will be when you get to tell them you did your site change all by yourself!”

She beamed, and with fresh confidence instructed me to resume the countdown.

“Ten, nine, eight…”

Her grip was firm on the device, and her fidgeting had stopped.

“…seven, six…”

A loud click perforated the air, Bella jumped slightly, and when I looked down, a fresh, but slightly red pump site glistened on her backside. She had broken her own rule, and pulled the trigger before I hit zero. Bella stared at me with her mouth open, equally shocked by her own gall, and I burst into tears.

“Why are you crying?!” Bella asked, chuckling.

“I don’t know! I’m just…I’m so proud of you!”

“They’re happy tears?” she asked.

“Yes, happy tears!” I said, wiping my face, and laughing, too.

We examined the site and confirmed it was functional (“Better than daddy’s, I think!”) Elated, I lifted her into the air, spun her around twice, and kissed her wet little face with my own. Back in the kitchen, Bella enjoyed a celebratory chocolate chip cookie, and I felt I deserved one, too. 

On Sunday, her parents arrived back home looking much more relaxed than I had seen in ages. Bella bounded into their arms, where she was instantly swept up and attacked with many kisses. While bouncing a jovial Bella on his hip, Chris asked, “So? How did it go?”

Bella immediately interjected.

“I did it!”

“Did what, baby?” asked her mom.

“I did my own site change!”

“You did what?!” said Chris.

“I did my own site change!” repeated Bella proudly.

Her parents exchanged confused looks and turned to me for explanation. All I could do was smile and shrug.

“Yup. Told you,” said Bella. “I did my own site change. Oh! And Samantha cried. But don’t worry,” she added, quickly, “they were just happy tears.”

Originally posted by nyxisis

Update 8/7

DERESUTE NIGHT☆ × 11 Miyu Collab Item

A new item has been added as from Miyu Mifune’s VA, Sayaka Harada. The item is the Sunflower Alien Growing Kit. Once your device passes 3 PM, you can get the item from the room shop!

3 New Commus

Three idols have gotten a new commu chapter each! The idols are Tsubaki Egami, Izumi Ohishi, and Reina Koseki. Unlock them by increasing their fan counts.

Tim Tuesday: How To Save A Life

Rating: G
Word Count: 991
Characters: Tim vs Bruce, Dick, and Damian

Summary: Tim gets teased because he doesn’t have the moves like Jagger. Or something.


The deep, gravelly voice caused Tim to freeze in his creeping towards the stairs. He even went as far as to close his eyes with a silent groan as Damian’s overly gleeful face swiveled around at Bruce’s summons to reveal a particularly malicious grin.

“Grayson!” Damian called out from his father’s side. “Drake’s home!”

Oh God, even Dick wanted to sit in on this? Resigning himself to his fate, Tim trudged over to the cave’s forensic area.

“Yeah, Bruce?” He knew there was no point in trying for nonchalance, but he did it anyway.

Straightening up from the bit of evidence he was examining, Bruce plucked what looked like a severed toe out of Damian’s hand and placed it on a tray.

“A police report came in earlier ordering all cops on patrol to keep a lookout for Red Robin.” Bruce crossed his arms and leaned a hip against the table. “Any idea as to why?”

Tim winced. “If I said no, would it help push forward the idea that I believe my intentions were nothing but innocent?”

Damian’s bark of laughter didn’t quite mask the sound of squeaky wheels as Dick pushed himself down the pathway towards them on one of the rolling desk chairs that were kept lying around in the cave.

“God doesn’t like liars, Timmy,” Dick’s voice echoed slightly as his hand gripped a table corner, pulling himself into both the work station and the conversation.

“What is this? Pick On Tim Day?”

Keep reading

A few personality traits

•He could remember the phone numbers, billboards and business cards from the TV, yet he can’t remember if its his turn to cook dinner.
•Can’t write in cursive.
•Secretly uses Jay’s concealer and bronzer.
•Hasn’t read a book in 10 years.

•He could invent anything with limited supplies.
•When he first moved to the city, he thought everyone he met was his best friend.
•Finds out people’s peeves and does them.
•Believes that everything could be fixed by tape.

•When he super stressed out, his voice goes to high pitch, causing him to sound like Jay.
•He is ambidextrous, he writes and uses his scythe on his right hand and does the rest on his left hand.
•Learns dances from music videos.
•Would never celebrate his birthday without cake.
•After the events of “The Royal Blacksmiths”, he is a bit of a kleptomaniac.

•Corrects everyone’s grammar (mostly Cole’s).
•Cracks math jokes that only Nya and Jay could laugh at.
•Has a list of all the food in the fridge and cupboard.
•He’s a terrible liar

•Forgives easily.
•He is very superstitious.
•He still believes in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny
•Knows everyone’s pass code on their devices, he’s still trying to crack their account passwords.

•Always carries two bottles of sanitiser. One from the dollar store to lend to the boys and the other one is an expensive sanitiser for herself.
•She is a hypochondriac.
•When she was younger, she used to be afraid of fire.
•She used to share a room with Kai back in the blacksmith shop. Kai still complains that she snores too loudly.

Prompt: “Finally though, my request is could you maybe do a Bones and reader story where reader has maybe had a bad experience with a doctor before but is really trying to overcome that especially since they get injured a lot on the away missions? Maybe she is a science officer?”- @fandomheadrush

Word Count: 927

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy!

NaNoWriMo Word Count: 22,695

Keep reading

There should be adopting centres for lonely INFPs. When you’re too shy and socially anxious to meet people in RL, but can’t really find someone on the internet either. You could go there and the friendly person at the desk would go “Of course! Just fill out this form and we’ll either find potential friends or mentors for you.” Anyone can volunteer of course, but they have to pass an INFP-deviced test first. And the centre would be full of puppies and flowers. Yep.
—  my Ne
BTS//”Interesting” Fanfiction

Every ARMY on this website of hell is thirsty af. Figured I’d feed that, y’know, anything for notes fellow ARMYs! -Admin R the coolest admin

/Reaction to them reading a dirty fanfiction on tumblr of themselves/No GIFs are mine, credit to original owners/This is another filler reactions, the requests are coming up soon (the other admins are working really, really hard!) and hopefully we’ll reopen our ask box soon <333/

Warning: mild cursing ahead

Rap Monster:

“Namjoon!” You called, your face tinted red. “Holy shit! I was on tumblr on the BTS tag, and you’ll never guess- you know, you should see it for yourself.” Your boyfriend walked in from the other room, obviously confused.

“What is it, jagi?” He raised an eyebrow once he saw how hard you were blushing.

“The ARMYs are out of control, I swear.” You directed him into the seat you were previously occupying, facing your laptop. The link it was on was titled, quite simply, ‘Namjoon Mature Scenario’. Your boyfriend turned to you, smirking.

“Did you read it?”

“Oh, god, no. They’re all about daddy kinks, honestly, I’m not very much into that.”

“Yet.” Namjoon grinned, settling down to read it. As he scrolled down the page, his smirk grew in size and he began rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. Once he finished, he exited out of the link.

“You know, baby. I’m free starting now. You want to act out the fic?”


“What are you reading?” Yoongi rested his hands on the back of your chair, leaning over to stare at your screen.

“Smut.” You replied, straightforwardly. He groaned.

“If it’s another story about Woozi, I fucking swear-”

“That was one time! And it was a well written story, okay?” You protested, blushing. “And actually, this one’s of you, and so far it’s ridiculously inaccurate.”

Immediately, your boyfriend’s attention was caught. “Me? Move over.” Yoongi sat down beside you, almost pushing you off. Re-arranging yourself on his lap, you made sure he could see the fic you were reading. 

Yoongi’s eyes scanned the page, taking in the words at a mile a minute. He finished reading it quickly, turning to you.

“Do you really want me to be more dominant? Because I could arrange that tonight…”


“Jagi, you left your laptop running aga-whoah.”

You rushed to where Hoseok was, only to see him sitting at your chair and reading something. He turned when he heard your footsteps, a pale blush across his face. 

“It was on your tumblr dashboard, and the first post at the top…”

You groaned. On tumblr, you followed multiple ARMY blogs, knowing full well that most of them wrote M rated scenarios for the members. “What is it?” You still asked, hoping it was some stupid meme of the boys instead of a smut.

“I think it’s called a fanfiction? It’s about me.. and the reader… and bed…” You sighed, blushing hard.

“Oh, well, um, I’ll take that back-”

“No.” He smirked. “I’m enjoying this. Apparently I’m really rough in bed? What do you think?” You bit your lip.


“After I finish reading this, we’re going to bed.”


Just because he was the oldest didn’t mean he was the most suggestive.

“Jagi… I’m sorry… but when you went to the bathroom I accidentally saw what you were reading…and…” Your boyfriend collapsed into a fit of embarrassed giggles. Your face went red, and you pursed your lips.

Jin’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he doubled over in laughter.

“How much did you read?” You asked, looking away, not sure whether to laugh or crawl into a hole for the next 12 years.

“Not much, just the part towards the end when we-”

“That’s enough, Seokjin!” You exited out of your tumblr and shut your laptop. After your blushing boyfriend was done laughing, he straightened up.

“You know, we could try that one day.”


“’Oh, Jimin, Jimin, faster, hng!’” Your idiot boyfriend read out loud from your phone in a falsetto voice. 

“What the hell are you looking at?” You asked, moving so you could see the screen. He smirked.

“I wanted to see what this tumblr site you’re always on is like, and I searched up myself, and this came up.” Jimin grinned, gesturing towards the mature fic in front of you. You’d already read this one.

“This one was okay…” You said, and then realized what you had mentioned.

“You read these stories about me?” Jimin’s smirk grew, as he winked at you. You blushed and tried to take your phone from him. He held it above your head.

“Fuck you.” You sighed, your words having no bite behind them. 

“I’d like you to.”

Originally posted by eyehealyou


“Did you know of this website? It’s called Archive of Our Own or something.” Taehyung asked, scrolling through something on his phone. 

“Yeah, it’s another writing website. Why?” Your tone went from relaxed to slightly worried- who knew what your “innocent” boyfriend would find when surfing the darker parts of the internet?

“There’s this story about me on it? It says it’s mature and to not read if I’m not an adult? Should I read it?”

“Taehyung, I don’t think-” You began, only to be cut off.

“Too late! Why are you so worried? It isn’t-AUGH!” Should you laugh or should you cry? Pondering this, you rushed over to your boyfriend. 

His wide-eyed stare was trained on the screen, and his look of shook quickly changed to a small smirk. 

“I wouldn’t mind doing this, actually…”

Originally posted by eyehealyou


omg no golden maknae needs to be protected from us thirsty ARMYs we cant corrupt him oh no

Jungkook looked up from his phone, a look of shock, confusion, and naivety across his face.

“What the hell did I just read?” He whispered, passing his device to you once he saw your confused expression. You took it, glancing down at the screen.

“Oh my god, okay…” You replied, seeing the ending to what was obviously a very in detail smut involving your boyfriend. “Um… welcome to the world, I guess? I don’t know what to say, exactly?”

Jungkook sighed. “It’s not the fact that it exists, it’s so inaccurate though, honestly. I’m not THAT innocent.” He grinned at you, grabbing your hand and running his thumb across your skin.

“Trust me, I know.” You rolled your eyes, blushing. “This fic actually seems sort of mild…”

“Maybe we could act it out?”

Originally posted by hugtae

Black and white gif edition ayeeee-R

You're Such A (Calum Hood Imagine)

Originally posted by blushingcalpal

Summary: Based on this song: You’re Such A - Hailee Steinfeld

Requested: Yes, by @betababe-imagines

Warnings: Swearing + brief mentions of drugs/smoking/alcohol/sex + fuckboy!calum 

A/N: I wrote this real quick, so I dunno the outcome + I didn’t proof-read this! Also I got nothing wrong with smoking/drinking, this is for the purpose of the song. 

Keep reading