potential stalker

Farewell, Pretty Little Liars.

Today is the day that we must finally say goodbye to Pretty Little Liars. With its never-ending theories and constant renewals, the PLL endgame always seemed like an intangible, abstract and theoretical concept that is just so far away, that it will simply never come. It feels so surreal to say that today is that day, which again, over the years, was never in sight. I thought watching Pretty Little Liars would just be some light, weekly, background entertainment. On June 8 2010, I did not truly know what crazy rollercoaster I had stumbled upon. Through numerous ups and downs, these past 7 years have certainly been unforgettable. If you told me seven years ago that a television show will have such a positive impact on my life, I would have laughed at you and called you dramatic. Tell me that today, and I’ll smile in appreciation at the positive influence and power a television show can bestow upon its viewers.

Not every show makes it to seven seasons, particularly mystery shows. Seven years is a long time. I started watching this show when I was 13, and I am now 19. (I realise I am probably very young in comparison to most other PLL fans!) Just to visually see this: Pretty Little Liars was with me while I was 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18 and 19. These are arguably some of the most important years of one’s life. As I grew, PLL grew too, in a literal sense, as we got a time jump where the characters matured, but also in figurative sense, since the stories gradually shifted from being high-school oriented to dark and twisted themed through a demented dollhouse and a psychologically straining board game. All while PLL was on the air, I graduated from primary school and high school, started university, got my driver’s license, my first job, credit card, car, gone overseas by myself, and made life-long friendships. Achieving all that never was easy, but it was made easier by PLL. If I ever struggled in my personal development, I always had PLL to fall back upon for psychological stability and security, aside from general entertainment. A part of me sees the end of PLL as if the training wheels are coming off my bike: for 7 years, I was learning how to become a young man, and now that I finally am one, I no longer need this safety rock that is PLL in order to continue developing.

This long, personal post is dedicated to me and my seven-year relationship with Pretty Little Liars.

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Damsel in Distress (Grayson x Reader)

Summary: On your way home in the middle of the night from your best friend, Mia’s place, you end up getting followed by a stranger. You find a phone booth and in the middle of your panic and with shaky hands you attempt to dial Mia but end up calling a complete stranger, Grayson.
Word Count: 2,193
Warnings: None, I think?
A/N: I saw this prompt in a tumblr post and had to write it, hope you enjoy! :)

You didn’t mean to, you really didn’t mean to call the wrong number. But after having been swarmed with work and having no spare time to hang out with your friends, you just decided you’d had just about enough. So when Mia called you over for drinks and hinted at possibly ordering in, you just couldn’t turn the offer down. Especially if there was drinks involved.

The night had gone well, Mia had already popped open a wine bottle by the time you arrived at her place, a few blocks from where you lived; and she had her phone in hand, ready to order. You had settled on Indian, eagerly sipping from your glass of wine as you had sat down on the couch, sighing at the softness of it. It had been so long since the last girl night in, and you couldn’t wait to relax.

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Day Seventy-Three

-The holidays have ended. The store is silent, empty to an extent I had forgotten was possible. I feel a deep sense of tranquility at the presence of short lines and easy shifts.

-My ability to wear jeans to work for the holidays is gone, and with it, my zest for life.

-Today we are on the lookout due to a potential possible stalker-ish type situation. Years of hyper-attentiveness due to extreme anxiety have prepared me for this exact situation. I am ready.

-I find myself covered in an endless coat of glitter from all of the discounted Christmas decorations. I believe I have found the definition of “zen”.

-A woman became angry after having her check denied. She was certain that the stamp on her check had caused it. The stamp was, though, our system denying the check. The jury is still out on this case of Chicken v. Egg, but I hope she will find the truth soon.

-I passed a woman wearing a shirt that read, “Love Is L'Amour.” I am appreciative of such a helpful Rosetta Stone of a shirt.

-I am endlessly baffled by diapers being so expensive when they are little more than disposable poop bags. Some have Disney characters on them. These are the only ones I would be willing to pay full price for. All other lines of diapers have a great deal of explaining to do.

-A woman in her late fifties or early sixties purchased a large bottle of lube and a larger box of condoms. I respect her safety and am proud of her lifestyle.

-I handed a screaming girl a strip of stickers, instantly stopping the screams. The next guess complimented me on my knowledge of children, and how I knew exactly what to do to stop her cries. I am always willing to take compliments from any sources, but I do feel guilty for not explaining to her that the child had been screaming about how badly she wanted stickers.

-A child encountered her reflection in the lane’s mirror and immediately carried out the natural reaction: dancing wildly at herself while cackling maniacally.

-A woman came through my lane wearing a sweatshirt with the phrase, “God Is Good, Y'all” on it. Usually I am not one to pay attention to gospel given to me by strangers, but from such a casual and laid-back hoodie, I think I might give it a shot.

anonymous asked:

(I'm from the previous question about something being 'missing') If you don't mind just giving me a small run down of everything? Sorry ^^; I just want to make sure I understand the comic completely, it's very good.

Aw thanks! Uh, I will try! I don’t think a “small rundown” possible from me but I’LL TRY! 

Although, I suspect a lot of the confusion may be related to the Frankenstein + PotO novels? The comic uses their lore for the most part, and wikipedia has all you need to know for that ;} #blesswiki

OK SO, Frankenstein’s Monster becomes the Phantom of the Opera by developing a deeply dependent relationship with a ballet girl named Christine.  Problem is, Superstitiously raised Christine thinks Erik is a ghost she trapped in a mirror. In reality, this “angle of music” is a heavily scarred (both mentally + physically) 8 foot masked giant living in a sewer. *sad trombone* 

As Christine grows into a woman, TC/Erik fears losing her so he “invites” through the mirror–in an attempt to be honest or something. Christine is rightfully disenchanted, betrayed, angry, hurt, etc…All the feelings. After he rages at her for unmasking him, Christine feels like she Really Cannot cross this potentially violent rando stalker and decides to play along (for now). 

Of corpse, Christine’s childhood bff–Raoul de Chagny–bumbles right into the middle of everything. And oh no! He’s cute! In all the emotional trauma, Christine forgot that she kind of has a Big Crush on this well-meaning cinnamon Raoul. Oh great, now she has to a: stay alive, b: keep Erik…chill, c: keep Raoul away from Erik, d: kiss Raoul??, e: find out more about Erik?? f: and become an opera star??? Also, did he kill the stagehand Bouquet? Will he kill her? Will she kill him? She sure wants to right now. For a girl who’s always had her head in the clouds, this is an awful lot of high-stakes reality to deal with at once. 

The only person who seems to know Erik exists is a man called “the Persian” or “Daroga”. He agrees to help Christine by revealing more of Erik’s past (Frankenstein stuff). Who is he and how did he know Erik? Are they friends? Exes? Keep reading to find out!

Meanwhile, Raoul has no idea what’s going on…but he does know that Christine is in some form of trouble and dagnabbit he is going to help her or die trying! Or both, preferably. The poor kid is plagued by his domineering older brother Philippe/Philip who wants to keep him locked in his room and then packed off to sea like a tragic Dickens waif. To say nothing of Raoul’s mysterious “illness”, identity struggles, abandonment issues, abysmal sense of self worth, and secrets…so many secrets. (That’s why his hair’s so big…its full of secrets) (◔◡◔✿)

When Christine realizes that Raoul is being sent back to sail (under a Walton descendant), she impulsively invites him to the Opera house Masquerade. There they can be disguised, lost in the crowd, and best of all–Erik won’t be there! (or so they think)

Christine and Raoul meet at the Masquerade–both kids having escaped their respective handlers–and end up on the Opera House roof. Christine’s bizarre and aggressive behavior finally breaks Raoul and they quarrel until Christine tells him about Erik. Speaking of the devil, Erik is at the Masquerade and looking around for Christine. Now Daroga has to keep him distracted from the two kids on the roof. And of course, both men start to argue like toddlers. Also, La Sorelli (prima ballerina) and Philippe de Chagny are quarreling too. Are they exes? Keep reading to find out!

 So meanwhile, Raoul confesses to breaking a man’s leg for Christine’s reputation and also maybe having “met” Erik in Box 5. Christine is both horrified and like super attracted to Raoul and nearly kisses him. Raoul realizes that he’s been misinterpreting her strange flirting rituals all along, whoops. (*inhale* boi.) Anyway, mutual feelings of affection and impending doom compel them to make out. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

Erik realizes that Masquerade + social anxiety is probably a bad mix and escapes to the rooftop to calm a panic attack. There, of corpse, he spots Raoul and Christine canoodling (!!!) and talking about him (!!!!!) and oh no, they are….really cute together. Christine admits to feeling affection for Erik, although being sure that their relationship will end badly. Erik struggles with the concept of Raoul potentially taking Christine away from him. 

As they prepare to say goodbye, Raoul has a flashback to the night he was left left behind by his sister Mary. He remembers meeting Christine (who mistook him for a mythical creature) and how much it meant to have a friend. These memories remind him that he has a letter that he needs to give Christine but she obliviously cuts him off and they try not to stress out about being separated and forever alone akjfhsks. 

OK, I think that’s most of what’s happened so far? I am writing this late at night and with a cold so I am afraid this is probably incoherent babble but I hope this helps? Anyway thanks for asking! 

Nice to Meet You -3-

A/N:… Im pretty sure that it was @junieyes who asked to be tagged in all the up coming chapters so here you go ^_^. (If it wasn’t tell me please… i’m forgetful)

You felt Camille rest her head on your shoulder as you helped her waddle out of the restaurant.

“You’re the best,” she murmurs quietly.

“I know” you state with a smirk and you feel her chuckle.

You look up and down the street before you spot a yellow car parked not too far away.

“There is our cab,” you say walking.

“I can’t believe you called a cab, are you refusing to live in the 21st century?” She chuckles.

“You honestly trust Uber in this town?”

“You have a point.”

You open the cab door and let Camille slide in first.

“Excuse me?”

Your head turns to look the ever so important Bruce Wayne. Hands in the pockets of his suit, he offers you a kind smile. Your heart flutters slightly. Nice smiles were a bit of a weakness.

“What do you need?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to grab a cup of coffee?”

Cam gasps and you raise an eyebrow.

“Weren’t you just on a date?” You question watching as he rubs the back of your neck a little bashfully.

“You’re a bit of a sleazeball aren’t you?” You say crossing your arms.

“I prefer to think of it as the two of us not being particularly compatible,” he says with a shrug. “Besides, it was our first date.”

“And last I assume? She didn’t seem particularly happy about your generous nature.”

“Didn’t seem like it. So, coffee?”

“Pssssttt, Pssssstttt” Cam tries to call you discreetly.

You lean down into the cab.

“What do you want?”

“Fuck him!”

“W-what?” you snort out.

“Fuck him, have fun. I mean he seems like a nice guy.” She peaks around you to look at Bruce who seems thoroughly amused and seems like he obviously heard your usually quiet friend’s lewd comments.

“You know you could be sending me into the arms of a potential stalker?” you say with a smirk.

“Eh, if its him you’ll like it.”

“You are a twisted woman.”

“Husband tells me that too.”

You smile at each other before you step back and close the cab door.

“Be safe!” She calls before the cab starts to pull away.

“So that’s a yes?”

You turn and look at him and take in his form. He’s big and muscular, but in a way that doesn’t feel like he’s been roided up. And as appealing as you find him, he could be trouble if it turns out he’s a loon.  You bite your lip and palm the bottom of your purse, feeling for your full can of pepper spray. You’ve gone through two in the last three months. As much as you loved your job and your friends, you weren’t used to the unending surprises that the Gotham streets provided.  However, you also really wanted to get a drink with this guy.

“All right, moneyman, show me what you’ve got.”


“Uncomfortable slummin’ it?” you ask as you sip the hot tea in your large ceramic cup. He looks like he’s going to refute but the fact that he hasn’t stopped twitching since he sat down and your raised eyebrow tipped him of that you knew it.

“Just uncomfortable in new places,” he says truthfully. “I don’t like not knowing how to get out in case of an emergency.”

“I get it,” you say with a nod of your head, “I’m paranoid too.”

He chuckles.

“This your fault though,” you say with a smile. “You ask me to coffee and you didn’t even know where to go. Are you sure you’ve lived in Gotham your whole life?”

“Aside from the time I lived abroad,” he says stirring the straw of his iced coffee. “Though I am ashamed that you know more about this part of the city than I do.”

“It’s the paranoia. I’ve never actually been in here, but I pass this shop on the way to the office every day. I take note of every building, just in case it’s a late night and someone is following.”

“Did something happen?” He questions. You notice that his eyebrows furrow with concern and his blue eyes become a little more alert. A part of you likes the concern.

“No, just like to know all my exit strategies, you know?”

It goes silent for a moment, but it’s not awkward. You like the silence. You look around the coffee shop. The clock on one of the walls read 11 when you walked in and that was almost about twenty minutes ago. You look at the people still the shop, tired college students, artists, and kids trying to shake of a high from a party. You and Bruce must have looked odd. Bruce being at least a good 10-15 years older than the usual demographic and the both of you dressed a little more than causally.

“Kids?” You ask.

“One permeant the rest rotate.” He says with a slight upturn of his lips, not quite large enough to be a smile. “Sometimes I’m dad the rest of the time I’m just Bruce.”

“Got it. They adopted?”

“You’re good.” He says taking the last sip of his coffee.

“My mom, took in foster kids, so I get it.” You look at the tea in your cup. “Are you one of those cheating rich guys? Looking for a thrill because things at home are boring even though your wife is doing her best?”

“Not at all.  Never been married.”

You lean back in your chair and examine the handsome man. It would be nice to spend time with someone who wasn’t from work. Cam will be off the table soon. You aren’t the needy type of friend, the type to get jealous of her family of her life. Bruce Wayne might be a fun distraction, at least for a little while.

“All right. I’m ready to go.”

“Ok, I’ll take you home.”

“Slowdown, cowboy. First,” you pull your phone from your purse, “I’ll take your number. If I call you’ll have mine.”

“Fair enough.” He said standing up. He offered a hand and you shook your head.

“No dice, dude. I think your nice and you’re probably not a creep but I don’t know you. I’m gonna wait here for a cab, kay?”

He examined you, not seemingly put off by your denial but more worriedly.

“Will you be safe?”

“Don’t worry about me, nut shots are my specialty.”

But seriously, on a scale of one to ten, how interesting does a case involving a man being photographed by a potential stalker rank to Sherlock Holmes? A 3, max. (A hiker dead in a field with no murder weapon was only a 6). Sherlock had a “bursting” inbox and could’ve picked any case to take John on, but instead he picked the one that allowed him to spy on soldiers and watch Captain Watson in action. Same reason he took the case at Baskerville.

“Your dad got eaten by a monster? That’s crazy, like, actually crazy. But wait a second… if i take the case… we’d have to infiltrate Baskerville…. see all those soldiers… John! Get your coat! We’re leaving TODAY.”

“Okay, I’ll find a case that will distract John from his wedding planning. Let’s see, what’s in my inbox. Two murders, a kidnapping, one missing emerald…. aha! Here’s a good one. A soldier who’s getting photographed too often. Maybe John will pull rank again…”

A Mum’s Worst Fear

By Skyler10

Summary: Rose loses her young daughter in a department store and discovers a whole new level of fear. And respect for her own mum.

Notes: Written for Tentoo x Rose month! This week’s prompt was kids/place of residence.

Agent Rose Tyler had known terrifying situations in her 32 years.

She had been teleported against her will, escaped prisons all over this universe and the last, crossed dimensions, and defeated Daleks and Cybermen and too many hostile aliens to count. She faced death and laughed in its face… or eyestalk. Whatever form it took. She was the Bad Wolf, defender of the Earth and Torchwood’s director of field operations.

But today, today she was properly frightened.

Her panic attack came in the most unlikely of places: an ordinary shop, not unlike the one she used to work in another lifetime ago.

But, she reasoned to herself as she tore through the store, her fear was at least entirely justifiable.

The miniature version of herself who had been following close by her side was now missing. The girl was every bit her mother’s daughter down to the dirty-blonde hair and big emotive eyes. And apparently, a shared talent for wandering off.

Rose prayed her offspring hadn’t also inherited her jeopardy-friendly reputation.

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anonymous asked:

Can I get some jealous rfa nerds please? How they'd express it, and maybe what they'd need from their S/O to reassure them?? Pls and thank you! 💕💕

They’re all damn nerds alright 💕 


  • He’s a quiet ball of tantrums. There’s not much he can do in public at seeing the way guys stare at you, for an actor must keep his cool. All he settles to doing is wrapping his arm tighter against your waist and pulling you so tight against him it’s near impossible to walk together.
  • “Zen, what is it? What’s wrong? I can’t really walk with your feet literally one centimeter close to mine. We’re gonna end up falling like this.” He huffs and you sigh. “Alright, Hyun. Tell me what’s wrong or I’m not going out with you anymore.”
  • You used his real name, he knows you mean business and he has no other choice but to lose his composure in front of you. He doesn’t like it but he knows it’s the only way to still have you go out with him to places where he can show you off to the world.
  • “I don’t like the way they stare at you. All those guys, have they no respect at seeing a pretty girl be out with her man? I know all men are beasts but you have me, they all need to look somewhere else before I show them what a true beast is like.”
  • You feel yourself flush at his words but the pout of anger on his face is too cute to ignore. “Oh, my handsome Zenny. You have so much of the world against your perfect life. Know that I will never leave you, babe. No other man can ever compare to your beauty and wonderful personality.” It makes you slightly cringe but his lovestruck eyes are back on you in a flash. Oh how you love him.

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secondaryrealm  asked:

#228 with Kurt Wagner please? If you don't write for him I understand, good luck with the blog and have a wonderful day <33

Prompt: “May I have this dance?”

A/N: this might be a bit inaccurate since I haven’t seen apocalypse yet, so I apologize in advance.

Kurt Wagner has never really had a way with woman, especially the ones that he was romantically interested in. Despite the obvious color of his skin, which was very prominent against the normal flesh colors, he was very socially awkward and really didn’t understand the normal social cues and phrases. He was shy and had one of the biggest hearts, yet no one seemed to stick around long enough to find out.

The first time he had met you, he was instantly lovestruck. Usually he found himself wandering the mansion grounds, often times avoiding bullies and chatting with his friends. On one of his afternoon walks, he spotted you lounging underneath a tree. You weren't doing anything special, instead you were chatting with a couple of his friends. From where he was standing, he could easily spot out Jubilee and Jean in that group, along with Scott and Ororo. There shouldn’t have been any reason for him not to go over there and say hello, but as much as he wanted to, he found himself unable to move forward. There was something about you that immediately stopped him in his tracks. For awhile now, you had noticed from the corner of your eyes that someone was no-so-subtly watching you, before you could tell who it was—he disappeared. No one else inside the group had noticed your odd behavior, or the mysterious figure, but nevertheless you were determined to find out who it was.

From there, you just had searched endlessly, asking some of your closest friends for advice on who could possibly be watching you. It was a bit creepy, you had to admit; at the least, which lead you to believe that you could potentially have a stalker on your hands—somehow Jean gad always assured you that it was nothing like that.

“Trust me [Y/N] it’s far from what you’re thinking.”

Whenever you had asked for clarification, she would always shake her head and mutter the word ‘soon’. After hearing it nearly every day, you had soon become sick of that word as well as her response. You wanted answers and you wanted them now, and since she was pretty much the only psychic that you could persuade. There was also the option of asking Scott, considering the fact that the red haired girl could barely keep secrets from him, but he was way too loyal to give up any information. Which, left you trapped and back at square one.

In the following few weeks, there had been a bunch of awkward yet knowing smiles from a majority of your friends, which left you completely and utterly confused. You were no psychic and neither were a majority of your friends, yet they all seemed to know something that you didn’t. It wasn’t until you had started receiving gifts, left mysteriously at the doorstep of your room, that you figured something was different. Flowers, chocolates, and cute plush animals were sitting there whenever you awoke in the morning, they always contained a note and was never signed with a name. Written on the piece of paper was always a romantic poem or paragraph, something that at the first word had made your heart swoon. There was never an indication of who could possibly be sending those gifts, or any connection to their identity. This had stumped you and for a couple of reasons; the first being the fact that whoever this person was, knew your dislikes and likes as if they were close to you, this posed a problem since a majority of your friends were either certainly not the romantic type or already smitten with someone else. You knew this could not be the work od Scott, since he had a massive crush on Jean, nor Logan because who knew what was going on in his life, Storm had something going on with Hank, Alex was way too old for you and Warren was plainly not your type.

You had nearly forgotten about Kurt, till a flash of a student’s blue scarf caught your eye. There was no way to put into words how you felt about the boy, but to put it simply, you thought he was absolutely stunning. Jean had introduced you to him a while back, when he first enrolled as a student of academy, he stood there in front of you—shyly, if you remember from reading his body language. He stuck out his hand, murmuring in that lovely German accent of his, that his name was Kurt Wagner, his cheeks tinting a beautiful shade of purple. Immediately, you had enveloped his hand with your own, giving him a smile and introducing yourself. Then in a poof of foul-smelling air, he had disappeared, leaving you and Jean alone. To say the least, his exit had stunned you, a bit of hurt crawling into your heart. The psychic had attempted to reassure you that it was quite normal for him to do that, almost like a defense mechanism when he’s panicked. At the time, you couldn’t understand what you could have possibly done to frighten him, yet you and him had certainly kept up great lengths to avoid each other ever since that incident. Which thus, eliminated him as a possible interest.

It was the next day that you woke up to no gift or note. The change was quite shocking at seven in the morning, but nevertheless you played it cool. There could have been a numerous amount of reasons why there was no gift; either they had forgotten, or you had woken up earlier than usual, or they were planning something special, and the list went on. You went about your day, attempting to distract yourself from your supposed secret admirer, all your efforts seemed to fail. The fist being Jubilee, who practically tackled you at breakfast, demanding to know what you gotten today. After you had told her of the emptiness outside your room, she grinned, a sly smile and her eyebrows raised she scampered off. Jean was the second, and after hearing the news had a similar reaction to Jubilee; a small yet knowing smile sitting on her lips as she sauntered away. By the time Warren came around with the same reaction, you were practically ready to go all Wolverine on their asses. They knew exactly what was going on and exactly who was behind the romantic gestures, yet they refused to tell you—some friends they were.

Before you knew it, classes were over for the day and it was time to finish homework and sleep. After a cryptic farewell by your friends, you disappeared down the hall to find someone standing idly outside your door. You had immediately halted in your tracks, the person sending shivers down your spine, and butterflies exploding in the pit of your stomach. In all of his glory stood Kurt Wagner, dressed in such an ill-fitting tuxedo that you could only assume it belonged to Warren or Scott, fiddling loosely and nervously with a single red rose. Cautiously, you approached the blue boy, who hadn’t noticed you approaching till it was too late and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hello, Kurt.”

Those two words seemed to have frightened him, for he jumped so high that he nearly banged his head on the ceiling of the hallway. Regaining his composure a few seconds later, he managed a small smile and a greeting back, offering you the beautiful rose. Gladly you took it, your fingers ending up brushing with his, making the lovely purple flush appear on his cheeks. None of you were in the mood to address the awkwardness and tension that engulfed the two of you, preferring and willing to bask in some uncomfortable silence instead. Up close and personal, you could finally admire him, from every ancient symbol that graced his skin to the way his tail would nervously swish back and forth every so often. So far you hadn’t pieced together the fact that he was your secret admirer, someone who received advice from Scott and Warren that this was the exact approach to swoon a girl, someone who was too shy and sweet to come out and admit his feelings.

“Here, why don’t we go into my room and we can—”

Before you could even take a step forward, he had stood blocking your door with his entire body. With an eyebrow raised, he soon turned a bit more purple as he tried to formulate a way he could possibly explain his odd behavior, instead he decided to step aside. Deciding to look past his mysterious behavior, you turned the knob and your jaw nearly hit the floor. Where once stood a semi-neat and organized bedroom, had been somehow transformed into something from a romantic paradise. Rose petals were scattered haphazardly around the floor of your bedroom, the lights were dimmed and candles were lit providing a warm glow to the room, even a small disco ball that hung from the ceiling.

To say that you were speechless was a little more than an understatement, everything suddenly clicking together like puzzle pieces falling into place. The gifts and romantic messages, the knowing smiles from your friends—who knew all along that this blue fluff ball who in fact fancied you as you did to him. It was your turn to become red in the face, not believing how you could have possibly missed what was right in front of you all along.

As if a switch had suddenly been flicked on, soft music encased the room, and you could swear somewhere Jean was watching over the two of you. Kurt had harnessed the charming part of his personality and gently took your hand, leading you inside the room.

“May I have this dance?”

He had offered you his hand, and gladly you took it the two of you spending the rest of the night wrapped in each other’s embrace.

26 Snippet [finally]

#ForeverFail with snippets. But here it is! Don’t pull out the pitchforks if some parts of this are tweaked in the final chapter. This is what happens when I go back and read earlier bits–indeccisssionnn, doubbbbttt, devestationnnn.

But huzzah all the same! I think you’ll start getting some idea about what’s going on with our good friends Lily and James and something about stand-ins har har harrr ;D

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AUTHOR: freudensteins-monster
GENRE: Humour
FIC SUMMARY: Tom does the walk of shame.
WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: None. ladyaudiophile pointed me in the direction of the prompt. Unbeta’d.

Shit. Who the hell let me drink tequila? Whenever I drink tequila I dostupid things like booty call my ex. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I tucked my shirt into my pants in an attempt to look halfway decent before I grabbed my jacket and did a last minute sweep of my ex’s bedroom. Phone, keys, wallet… check, check, check. Shoes… shoes… I found one kicked under the bed and retraced our drunken, fumbling steps and found the second one sitting precariously on the stairs. Fully dressed, finally, I took a glance at myself in the hallway mirror – not a complete wreck but it was obvious to anyone with eyes that I’d had about two hours sleep and was wearing the same suit from last night (note the splash of appletini on my pants and the smudged makeup on my collar). I heard movement from upstairs and raced for the front door, trying to lock it behind me as quietly as possible. Not my proudest moment, I must say, but she’d understand. I hoped. She was recently single and on her second bottle of wine when I called. I’m sure she’d agree that if she had been sober she wouldn’t have let me come over. We didn’t work. We both knew that. We didn’t want to go through all that drama again. She’d understand. I hoped. Shit.

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Queer Eye for the Star Spangled Guy
(Part One)

For once, it was entirely not Tony Stark’s fault. 

(I swear, I didn’t do it, Pepper!)

So that Tony’s nuts are safe from a literal roasting by his eternally exasperated, loving Significant Other, we really need to start at the beginning.  And in the beginning, there was Bucky. 

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