science experiment gone wrong

Prompt from A03:

I really like these. I wonder if you might be up to this challenge: Cas is an inventor at a company and doesn’t think of anything but his work.

That is until one day when he meets one of his bosses’ sons, Dean, and falls in love with him. He attempts to win his heart but Dean rejects him.

Amara, another one of Cas’ bosses who is also vying for Dean becomes jealous.

She forces Cas to test out his latest invention, a teleporter, on himself despite him constantly saying that he still hasn’t worked out all the kinks yet. Something goes wrong and Cas is transported a parallel universe.

Dean realizing his feelings tries to get Cas back.

You don’t have to take this challenge if you don’t feel up for it but let me know either way.

It was a more elaborate prompt and when i wrote it, it came out to 1451 words! i think there’s a long fic in this too…


Dean was running an inspection for his dad when it happened.

Walking by Cas’s lab on the way to inspect the project running in the next lab over, he paused. The light was one. The ‘we’re experimenting so stay out’ light.

That wasn’t right. Cas hadn’t gotten the green light – no pun intended – to make the first trial run yet. So why would he…?

Dean reversed direction and went to Cas’s door. He knew better than to interrupt an experiment in process. Thankfully, the higher ups had outfitted all labs with monitoring equipment. Dean opened the panel beside the door and flicked the switches, the little monitor flaring to life.

He frowned. Amara and Cas were inside and Cas did not look happy. She, on the other hand, looked smug. Dean didn’t like Amara. She was the kind of woman who just wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’d told her time and time again that he had no interest in her.

At least Cas had been respectful, if a bit disappointed, when Dean had said the same to him. And while it had made things a little awkward between them, Cas was still one of his best friends. Something here didn’t line up.

Dean flicked another switch and suddenly his earpiece came to life, the audio from inside the room beaming straight in.

“…told you, this technology isn’t ready. None of the test modules have either made it to their landing coordinates or sent back viable data for adjustments.”

“And I told you, Castiel, that your funding depends on results and you’re behind schedule.”

“No, I’m not,” Cas turned to the pad on his table.

“Oh, you are. The time tables were moved up this morning.” Amara handed her pad over and Cas reluctantly took it.

Dean’s frown deepened and he pulled his own pad out to check it. Pulling up Cas’s timeline, he saw no changes. What the hell was Amara getting at? Dean looked up in time to see Cas’s face fall, the pad dropping to his side.

Amara looked down at her nails and picked at something non-existent. “I believe todays’ test calls for human trials?”

Looking defeated, Cas dropped her pad down on the table and went to the test equipment. His fingers flew over them controls like an expert pianist at a keyboard and he locked the last one in place, walking forward to the testing pad.

With his back turned, Amara smirked and Dean nearly growled. Something was very wrong, he just couldn’t put his finger on what. As soon as Cas stepped up onto the pad and turned to face Amara, her face wiped of her smile and one of fake concern was pasted on.

“Why, Castiel, why haven’t you called for one of the volunteers?” she asked.

“You know very well why not. I may be forced to start the human trials today, but I still insist that this equipment isn’t ready. I’m not risking someone else’s life because suddenly, the bottom line is all the folks at the top care about. If it works, then it works. But if it fails…then at least the project won’t be able to continue because I’ll be gone.”

And that’s when Dean realized what the hell was going on.

Screw the lab light. He punched his override code into the pad, waiting impatiently, his heart in his throat, for the doors to slide open. Dashing inside when they did, he yelled, “Cas, stop! She’s playing you!”

He was too late. Cas’s startled face at Dean’s outburst was suddenly obscured by a blinding white light. Dammit! The thing had been on a timer! Amara jumped back at his entrance, surprised as well, and turned to face Dean. He ignored her, staring numbly at the spot Cas had been standing, trying to register what had just happened.

Cas was gone. His best friend was gone. Dean didn’t even know if the man was alive or where he’d been sent.

He might never be able to come home.

“Dean! I tried to stop him, but he was insistent on getting results today. It was all I could do to keep him from calling in some poor, deluded sap to – “

“Save it, bitch,” Dean growled, shoving past her. “I heard and saw everything. I don’t know why you were trying to get rid of Cas, but I’ll make sure you’re fired.”

“Dean, he’s just a scientist. This place is crawling with scientists. They’re a dime a dozen. It’s what we do. There will always be more to replace them,” her voice was oozing fake sincerity. “Now, someone like me…” she stepped closer to him, placing a neatly manicured finger to his chest, “We could be something special, if you let us.”

“So that was your angle,” Dean whispered in shock. “Jealousy? Over Cas? Why?”

“Why? Because some stupid, head in the clouds scientist, was stealing you from me,” Her eyes narrowed, her words coming out vicious and sharp.

“Cas isn’t just a scientist – he’s one of the rare ones. He’s an inventor. He can envision an idea and then work the science to find a way to do it. He’s like an artist, and science is his medium. It’s his sort that we collect here to work and none of them are replaceable. And besides that, Cas is my friend and he means a lot to me – he means…” Dean trailed off, his eyes widening. “Shit…he means everything to me.”

“Now, Dean –“ Amara started. He stopped her with a glare, tapping his earpiece. Her face went white.

“I’ve sent the date from the monitors and our conversation just now to Security. Expect to be fired for manipulation and abuse of power within minutes. Now get outta my way. I have to save Cas,” Dean’s face was grim, determined as he strode about the room.

Dean was a scientist, but he couldn’t invent things the way the others could. He could assist, though, and Cas had talked enough about his work that Dean was sure that he could operate the machine.

As long as he didn’t change anything Cas had done. He also knew that Cas had been tinkering with a portable device to set up at his destination that could link back to the home device. He’d been thinking of the possibility that the transporter might not be able to make a connection at the other end clear enough to retrieve anything.

If Dean could find that equipment, then maybe he could chase after Cas and bring him home.

And if Cas’s other worries proved true…well then, at least Dean wouldn’t have to face a world that didn’t have his dorky, nerdy best friend in it.

Because suddenly, the idea of doing so had him blinking back tears, caused an aching lump in his throat and carved a hole in his chest. All Dean could think was, when the hell had he fallen in love with Castiel Novak?

Now was not the time. He looked for the portable device and the control box that went with it. Dean snagged Cas’s backpack and dumped it’s contents on the work table, heedless of the mess it caused and carefully packed the equipment inside. He looked around – ignoring Amara’s yells as security arrived and dealt with her – and tried to see if there was anything else he should bring with them.

He snagged 2 bottles of water and a first aid kit and Cas’s coat. The coat he used to help cushion the equipment before placing anything else in the bag. Dean zipped the bag shut, started picking it up and then put it back down, snagging a set of tools. Not any Cas’s elaborate things, but a basic, survival guide style tool set. Cas might need to tinker with things.

Zipping it up once more, Dean hefted the pack onto his back, went back to the console to check the controls and then reset the timer. He took a deep breath, than another.

Cas was worth the risk.

He pressed the button and ran to the platform.

Dean would bring Cas home. There was no room for anything else. 30 seconds left. Tapping his earpiece one more time, he sent a message to his brother explaining in quick simple terms what was going on.

“Goodbye Sammy. Tell dad everything and wish me luck,” Dean finished just as the light flared up around him. He closed his eyes tight against it, not wanting to be so blinded that he was unprepared for anything on the other side.

After all – he had no idea where the other side was.

Didn’t matter. He knew all he needed to know.

Cas was there.


I rather like it (though the malfunctioning teleporter and dean going off to rescue Cas reminds me a LOT of one of my favorite video games lol) and of course, when i have a few more prompts gathered, i’ll add it to the ficlet sets on A03 that i’m making.

cat grant: your prose is not bad. i mean it’s not great, but its not bad

lena luthor: i can’t find where she asked your dusty ass, broke ass, ain’t doing shit with yo life ass, ugly ass, ain’t know how to dress ass, no edges having ass, science experiment gone wrong looking ass, a face a mother couldn’t love looking ass, number one contributing factor to global warming with your hot gas producing ass for your goddamn opinion.

Alice “I’m a science experiment manufactured by Umbrella gone wrong, too dangerous to be around” Abernathy
Claire “yeah that’s nice but can you try not to get yourself fucking killed for fuck sake and just WAIT FOR ME FOR ONCE” Redfield.

Alice “I remember everything” Abernathy
Claire “I lost memory once and still had to save you, you’re lucky I like you” Redfield.

Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!reader-

Request: “CAN YOU WRITE A DRACO MALFOY X HUFFLEPUFF READER?!?”- @starstruckpuppydaze (dude, when you request be specific)

Warnings: a little bit of Hufflepuff hate but you guys are the best! ^^

Summary: You think back on the day you first met Draco…

A/N: To the most obnoxious person in the world… don’t hug me. LOVE CHU! Also, this was kinda loose, so it sucks. Sorry. -Em

Originally posted by legendrarrymalfoy

  No one really expected it. Hell, you didn’t expect it either. You were dating Draco Malfoy. A Slytherin. You didn’t have anything against Slytherins, but you were pretty sure Draco had something against Hufflepuffs. Until that very special day…

  You were walking by yourself in one of the many halls of Hogwarts. You had your books in your arms. You were distracted by thoughts about Potions. You never seemed to get them right. The directions appeared to be simple and easy to follow but when you did attempt to make any sort of potion, it was always incorrect.

  Lost in these thoughts, you didn’t pay any attention to where you were going. A group of Slytherins was walking past you, and one of them roughly bumped into you making you drop your books. “Watch where you’re going, idiot” he sneered. “Oh, she’s a Hufflepuff hon. She’s bound to be stupid.” A girl snickered.

  You didn’t reply. You stood solemnly, looking at the ground instead. Of course, you were angry. They offended you AND your house. You wanted to fight back, prove that Hufflepuffs were more than just the “nice house”. But you didn’t. There were so many of them and only one of you… you couldn’t take them alone.

  “She’s not doing anything,” one boy from the back observed. “Probably because this little badger is afraid of the snake’s bite” the girl taunted. Your hands curled into fists. The girl, noticing this, got up into your face. “C’mon…” she murmured “Fight me. I know you wanna.”

  But you held your ground. After a few tense moments, she proclaimed “I’m bored. She won’t do anything.” She waved off her little group. A few grunted in reply and began trudging down the hall, sending you death glares as they went by. Only one Slytherin stayed behind, regarding you as some strange science experiment gone wrong.

  The girl turned and called out “Hey Draco. Let’s go! Unless you want to be seen with that.” She didn’t even recognize you as a human being… ouch. “I’m fine, I’ll catch up with you in a sec” he replied, still not taking his eyes off you. You watched as she huffed off, then frowned at the boy.

  “What do you want?” you spat out bitterly. “I just wanted to help you gather your things,” he answered simply, beginning to grab your scattered books. You watched him collect your books in disbelief. He got up and handed over your items. “U-um Thank you” you stammered. “No problem. I’m sorry my so-called “friends” were rude.” Draco said.

  You sighed “It’s fine, you grow numb to it after a while” “Hmm…I assure that it won’t ever happen to you again.” he said, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Why are you being nice to me?” you questioned. “I’m only being nice because she put you in an unfair situation, so don’t get any ideas that I would bake you cookies,” he scoffed “Also, Slytherins don’t pick fights with someone because they feel like it. It’s more of a stupid Gryffindor thing.”

  “Oh…” you mumbled. You were unsure of what else to say and apparently, Draco did too. You stood together silently, not yet ready to part each other. “I see most of your books are about potions,” he attempted to make a stab at conversation. “Oh, yes. I’m awful at it. I’m hoping these might help me.” you admitted.

“Really? I could help you with it” he replied coolly. Wait, what? Did you hear that correctly? Was he seriously willing to help you? “I mean if you’re interested or anything…” he said quickly, catching himself. He was blushing furiously and you found it quite endearing. “Do you mind helping a Hufflepuff?” you asked shyly. “Not at all.” he smiled eagerly.

  You were looking for Draco. You just found out you passing your Potions class. You eventually wandered outside. You spotted him near the lake, talking to a fellow Slytherin.

  You began to run towards him at full speed. By the time you were beside him, you were gasping for air. “Are you alright Y/N?” Draco asked with concern. “Oh…I’m.. fine” you wheezed out and gave an excited smile. He returned the smile.

  “Who’s this Hufflepuff?” the Slytherin said with an air of disapproval. “I’m his girlfriend,” you announced, shocking the Slytherin. “Really, Draco? You’re dating a Hufflepuff?” he said. “Yes, I am. I’d also like to remind you she has a name. It’s Y/N. She’s also more than just a Hufflepuff. She’s my everything.” Draco shot back.

  Disgusted with your relationship, the Slytherin stormed off. You sighed then quickly smirked. “What?” he asked. “They say Hufflepuffs are lame but you just said ‘She’s my everything’. You’re such a romantic cheeseball” you teased. “Oh shut it,” he chuckled “So, what did you want to tell me?”

  “I’M FINALLY PASSING POTIONS!” you squealed. He swept you into his arms “Babe that’s great!” he said. You both stood there laughing blissfully wanting nothing else but to stay in each other’s arms. 

anonymous asked:

Ok, here's a prompt since no one has yet written one using the fact that both Becky G and Naomi Scott are singers and song writers. "Trini and Kim singing along to songs or just plain singing together"

A/N: Okay, so they don’t both sing but one of them does!


Everything is silent.

The smoke swells around her and she can see her teammates running with their mouths moving, but all she hears is nothing. A panic seizes her as she tries to sit up, but the pain in her body refuses to relent and she gives up as she falls back. It isn’t til the face of an angel is hovering over her, and she sees full lips move but once again that she realizes it’s like someone has their hands held impossibly hard over her ears; she just can’t hear.

That thought causes the darkness to finally engulf her.


“Where were you?”

Zack blinks as Trini charges to him, “What?”

“You said you had Kim’s back!” Trini exclaims as she shoves him hard enough that he stumbles. “You said that you would keep an eye on her, Zack. So where the fuck were you?”


Trini shoves him again with a growl, “I never should’ve trusted you! I should’ve been with her! How could you be so reckless with her?”

Jason wraps his arms around Trini and pulls her back, “This isn’t helping, T. Come sit down.”

“No!” Trini snaps as she begins to squirm.

Jason grunts at how strong she is, and he can’t help but flinch as an elbow embeds itself in his side. He continues to allow her to fight before he does something he’s seen Kimberly do a thousand times, he scoops an arm under Trini’s legs and lifts her. Just like that, Trini calms. Her angry growls turn to sobs as she turns her head into his neck and pours out her worry; he simply sits down and holds her.


Kimberly is deaf. Well, they say it isn’t permanent but for now her hearing is shot. The doctors assured her parents that it would return within the next three days, and Kimberly was thankful she didn’t have to listen to her mother cry. It’s strange, the never ending silence. Everything seems so different. It’s hard to explain. She is released from the hospital a day after the explosion (or as her parents think, an effect from a very loud science experiment gone wrong), and all she wants to do is curl in bed and wait.

The boys visit and they bounce around her room like children, and Kimberly is thrilled she can’t hear them. Her amusement is clear as she watches them, and it’s almost serene; these are her boys, the three boys she’d lay her life down for. Zack with his goofy smile and his never ending love for adventures. Billy with his big heart and puppy dog eyes and his loyalty to something they weren’t even sure they could pull off. And Jason with his belief in her, with his messy hair and strong gaze. So, she sits there and let’s them laugh and suddenly she can’t wait to hear that sound again.


Kimberly’s parents adore Trini, they have from the moment they met her. Her mother dotes on Trini and her father laughs at all of her girlfriend’s lame jokes; it’s picture perfect, and she knows she’s much too lucky to have these amazing parents that are equally as amazing with her girlfriend. She figures that’s why her parents don’t freak out when they come in later that night after the boys have left and find Trini glued to Kimberly’s side; if they’re affected by it, they definitely don’t show it.

Trini doesn’t try to talk to her, she doesn’t write anything down on the whiteboard Billy brought her, she just lays with her head on Kimberly’s chest. A smile spreads across her face as she plays with Trini’s soft hair and she can feel the way her girlfriend taps along to the thump of her heartbeat. Her eyes close until she feels a gentle fingertip swirling on her chest and it takes her a moment to realize that Trini is writing something on her collarbone.

First there’s an I. And then she can feel the soft twirl of a heart being drawn and that’s all Kimberly needs to understand, she catches Trini’s hand in her own and brings it to her lips. Of course her girlfriend would choose this moment for their first ‘I love you’ and Kimberly simply smiles and says it out loud. Based on the way Trini cringes with a laugh, she can guess that she screamed it but that doesn’t matter. She’d scream it from the highest building in Angel Grove if she could.

Kimberly keeps yelling it until Trini climbs onto her and steals every ‘I love you’ from her mouth with a simple kiss.


Kimberly is already annoyed by the second day, she hates that she can’t hear what’s going on around her. All she can do is watch. She watches Zack’s mouth move until she can see Billy and Jason fall back with laughter. She watches her father spin her mother around and she can clearly tell that he is singing. But Trini stays silent, she doesn’t even attempt to speak. She just holds Kimberly and they sit in a peaceful silence. That night, after her parents have gone to bed, Trini sneaks back into her room with a soft smile.

Trini is gentle with her as she sweeps her into kisses and smooths her hands along her body, and Kimberly delivers the opposite as she pulls hastily at clothing. If she can’t hear, then she’ll settle for feeling. She’ll settle for the look on her girlfriend’s face as she lays on her back with her hair messily spread around her. She’ll settle with having Trini any way she can. And she settles for it because she can hear every noise in the back of her mind.

She knows Trini gasps when Kimberly presses open mouthed kisses to her neck. She can almost hear Trini giggling as she trails kisses down her toned abdomen with hair that tickles at Trini’s body. She doesn’t need to actually hear Trini to know exactly what words slip from her mouth once her fingers glide into warm heat. Kimberly kisses Trini breathless, and Trini lays beneath her with pink cheeks and a sleepy smile while her finger lazily traces a heart along her collarbone.

Kimberly doesn’t need to hear when everything Trini wants to say is in her soft kiss.


It takes almost three days for her hearing to come back, and the first thing she hears is a soft guitar. Her brow scrunches and her body aches as she rolls over and frowns at the sight of her friends camped out on her floor. They have stopped by every day after school to deliver homework and much needed laughter, but it seems they’re taking a softer route today. Kimberly shifts on the bed and curls her arms around her pillow as she watches Trini strum the guitar while humming softly.


“Any requests?”

“Sing the song you were singing in the hospital when Kim was admitted.” Billy beams as he eagerly claps his hands. “The one you wrote for Kim!”

Trini shakes her head as she looks to Billy for a moment while the tune on her guitar changes, “How did you even hear that? I thought I was being quiet.”

“You were crying,” Billy frowns. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Kimberly feels her heart swell and drop all in one go at the knowledge that she unwillingly made Trini cry. She can count on one hand the times she has seen Trini cry, and three of those times have now been because of her. She bites back a sigh as she settles against her pillow and watches Trini blush as she begins to change the flow of her sound while her gaze drops to the strings.

“I can’t count the times I almost said what’s on my mind, but I didn’t. Just the other day, I wrote down all the things I’d say but I couldn’t. Just couldn’t.”

Sound has never been as important to Kimberly as it was in this moment; the second Trini’s voice fills the room it makes her realize how relieved she is that the blast in her Zord wasn’t any worse. Trini’s voice is something that Kimberly can’t describe, it’s so unlike her normal harsh tone. Especially when she sings in Spanish, Kimberly never knew how sexy a foreign language could be until Trini playfully sang her a nursery rhyme one rainy afternoon.

“Baby, I know that you’ve been wondering, so here goes nothing…”

Kimberly feels like she’s floating as she watches Trini break down her walls and spill out the truth in her lyrics. She can tell the boys are completely enraptured by her as they all sit with wide eyes and dropped jaws; Trini didn’t really sing for anyone other than herself and her boys, she always told Kimberly that she saved those moments for the people she loved the most, she says she’s afraid that people will say she sucks. Kimberly thinks she’s just afraid of being vulnerable.

“In case you didn’t know, I’m crazy about you. I’d be lying if I said I could live this life without you. Even though I don’t tell you all the time, you had my heart a long, long time ago. In case you didn’t know.”

“Oh, I knew.”

Her voice sounds almost foreign to her, and it causes every occupant in the room to go stock still. And then the burst of noise hits her and she cringes, it sends an immediate wave of pain through her. All at once, Trini stands and pushes Jason aside as she crawls onto the bed with Kimberly and presses a shower of kisses along her face. Kimberly sighs as she tucks her head under Trini’s chin and closes her eyes; she hears the boys hollering for her parents, she hears Trini ordering them to shut up, but most importantly she hears the steady heartbeat that thrums deep in Trini’s chest; the same heart that belongs to her.

With a gentle touch, Kimberly reaches up to trace a heart on Trini’s collarbone.

“I love you, too.” Trini whispers.

Kimberly swears she has never heard anything better than that.

anonymous asked:

Turts react to swapping bodies (whether it be weird science experiment gone wrong or had something to do with their enemies) with their girlfriends? (The girls being fine with being in a mutants body)


“Babe, I love you to death but this is a big NOPE”

Help him.

If it’s for more than a day or two he’ll do his best to keep your form healthy and from getting hurt or something.  He takes care of it.


SO UNCOMFORTABLE.  But yet he teases you by acting all girly and making that high annoying pitched voice that younger boys would tease other girls about.  But then he looks up at you, who is in his own body, and he gets really upset because DAMN he’s realizing how friggin’ tall he is, and he now understands how you feel when you try to kiss him.


He’s doing his damn best and typing up a storm to figure out how the hell this happened.  He knows you’re his SO, but he feels like he’s invading your privacy, so to speak.  And like Raph it actually PISSES him off of how friggin’ tall you are, er HE is.  “Get down here and kiss me dammit!”


“Babe, you have a nice pair of—”

“Michelangelo, if you have ANY shred of desire to live YOU WILL NOT FINISH THAT SENTENCE.”

It’s quite the change but he gets the hang of it pretty quickly.  NEVER let him near your makeup, you’ll look like Gollum by the end of the day.  And if you have heels?  Forget it.  He’ll break ‘em trying to pose for you.  Just…. keep an eye on him.

Casually Decapitated AU

Character A is just a head. In a science experiment gone wrong, Character A found the cure for death, but wound up getting decapitated in the process. Undeterred from this, Character A continues to try to replicate the accident that lead to their immortality – possibly to save the life of a family member/lover/best friend/etc., but maybe for the money – much to the discomfort of Character A’s lab assistant, Character B.



“Woah, hey calm down y/n,” newt approached you, holding out his hand as a sign for you to relax and take a breath. “Your eyes are red….” You sighed in frustration and stormed off.
Taking a walk was something that never failed to calm you down, so you did just that. You kept your head down, in fear of the others seeing what’s happened. You felt like a science experiment gone wrong. And you knew deep down, it disturbed your fellow Gladers as well.
You kept walking until you walked into a solid matter, which staggered back startling you.
“Sorry,” you said, quickly glancing up to see who you potentially injured - Minho. Just great you thought, as if the red eyes weren’t enough.
“Oh it’s fine, y/n, accidents happen,” he smiled dashingly. You nodded head still down, things were growing more awkward. Butterflies were welling up in your stomach at the very thought of Minho’s presence in front of you as your hands got all clammy and shaky.
All of a sudden you felt a soft touch under your chin, lifting your head up. Minho sent shivers straight down your spine.
“Has anyone ever told you, you have the most radiant eyes,” he winked, causing goosebumps to creep on every inch of your body, “but what does purple mean, my dear?”
You stepped back shrugging like it was nothing special, but only you knew what purple meant, and you weren’t going to reveal your secret, at least not anytime soon.
“Whenever I see you they’re purple, come on I’ve seen them change a few times, so tell me, what does purple mean?”
You remained silent as he still waited, arms crossed across his chest, foot tapping on the ground. The tapping grew louder and louder as you remained mute.
“Alright,” he shifted, and it seemed like he was about to take off from break, you grew a little upset until he bent down to pick something up. He closed the time tight in his hands and walked up to and smirked from ear to ear. He leaned over and whispered in your ear, “They say purple means love…” He opened your hand at that and place the item in it and firmly locked your fingers in a closed position so it was not revealed, and with that he took off.
Once he was gone, still standing in the same position, you opened your hand to reveal a small purple flower. You gasped, but all you could was, “that sneaky little slinthead,” you shook your head elated, and walked back to your chores.

OT3 AUs (because there aren't enough of them in the world)

- Person A lives in a small coastal town that just experienced a bad oil spill. Person B is a volunteer who came down to help with the clean up. Person C is a representative of the oil company.

- Person A is a dog walker whose only competition in town is Person B. Person C just moved in and owns two/three rambunctious dogs and needs help taking care of them while settling in.

- Person A is royalty, in an arranged marriage to Person B, whom they have never met. Person C is Person A’s personal servant/bodyguard with a huge crush on them. (Bonus points if A knows about C’s crush but is afraid to reciprocate bc of the arranged marriage thing)

- Person A is a master spy and is assigned to mentor the newbies, Persons B and C, and make sure they don’t get killed

- Person A keeps getting kicked out so that their roommate can get laid and ends up crashing over at Persons B and C’s room frequently.

- something has gone horribly wrong with this science experiment/spell and now Person A and Person C have switched bodies. Person B is dating Person C and is very, very confused.

Grace:  “There should be a Freelancer show.  And this is how it goes -”

[on the Mother of Invention]

York: “Hey North, what’s up?”

North: “I’m just upset.”

York:  “Well, I hate it when your mood goes South!”  (rimshot) (laughtrack)

(This was so weird…she dictated specifically the rimshot and laughtrack.  Who is this kid?  Where did she come from?  Was she the product of a science experiment gone wrong?)

Spotlight Troll 143

Hello! Hope everyone is having a great weekend. The new spotlight troll is ready to be announced, and it’s…

Xivtan Melroy!

Owner url: nachoslug (submitted by technologicallibrarian)
Additional Information: Xivtan is a sweet percious yellowblood who is 7.5 solar sweeps, 5'3", and 105 lbs. She’s super into chemistry/alchemy, witchcraft, botany, etc., However she will swear over and over again that witchcraft is not actually a legit thing. She’s a clean freak with social anxiety whose hive is built into a giant sunflower thing that was coincidentally the result of an experiment gone wrong. Basically she’s a clumsy science witch (who would never, ever consider herself as such because witches do not exist of course)
Preferences: No NSFW pls
Special Request: 
If you’d like you could draw her conducting some sort of witchy, sciencey experiment! Really anything is appreciated though.

You have until next Sunday, June 18th to enter!

This will be the tag for the raffle entry art this week.

Our about page is over here, in case you’re confused about this or want more information! Reblog this post to spread the word!

- Mod Rum

Someone to love

Someone to love Five part mini series

Summary: You’d been there the whole time. Maybe now it’s time to let Steve know what he thinks he’ll never find.

Pairing: Steve x Reader Setting: from Captain America the First Avenger to Civil War.

Warnings: none for now. Notes: written for my 400 follower celebration requested by @angryschnauzer the song is Someone to love by Queen. What was supposed to be a one shot grew into a four or more parts cause the idea just stuck with me. Hope you enjoy

Key: Y/GF/N = your grandfather’s name

Tag list: @winters-buck @marvelfanfichq @aquabrie


Chance meeting Part 1


 “This seat taken?” you ask spotting the only empty chair on this beautiful fall day, next to a man you’ve seen many times at this very spot the last few months.

He looked familiar, more so than just seeing him here. But you can’t place where you’ve seen him before. Now up close, sandy blond hair highlighted by the sunny rays beating down, warming those who chose to sit outside. His head bent till you’d spoken, breathe catching as his sky blue eyes land on you, half smile gracing the corners of his lips. You can tell somethings wrong, studying people being a hobby of sorts and part of your chosen career, though you bite your tongue not asking questions.

“Uh, yes, yes it is,” siting up, pulling his feet back under him from being stretched out under the small table

Trying not to take up much room as you’ve spied a sketch pad while placing your coffee cup down. Taking your computer bag from the left shoulder, finally sitting down, you take a deep breath of the fresh air. A smile sliding into place as you close your eyes and relax.

“That bad a day doll?” deep voice laced with concern.

Doll? Did anyone use that anymore? Evidently they did since the hottie sitting next to you just said it. But instead of answering his question you just stared for a moment finally realizing who he is and ignoring his question.

“Oh my, your,” pausing, swallowing hard. You’d never met anyone famous before much less a war hero you’ve heard about all your life.

Internally groaning, one of the many down falls to having a face everyone knows is being bombarded by people who want to talk about the past, to shake his hand and sometimes not let go. Not that he doesn’t want to talk about it, about life in the 40’s, his time during World War 2 and Captain America.

“Steve Rogers, right,” voice light, sweet to his ears because most addressed him as Captain America or Cap. But you, your different he can see the curiosity written in your eyes he’s just not sure for which it’s for. The man or the myth?

“That’d be me in the flesh,” he tries not to cringe at how stupid that sounded, not being use to today’s slang. Lowering his gaze back to the pad in front of him, Steve starts to add more lines, a little shading to the drawing of the New York skyline.

Not taking your eyes off him, while unpacking your laptop and setting up your work area. “Never thought I’d ever meet you. My Granddad spoke very highly and so many stories. ”

Head snapping up as the pencil paused, eyes searching. “Stories? Who’s your Granddad?”

 “Y/GF/N, of the 107th,” the grin is infectious as it lightens your eyes, affection and love in your tone. “He always says if,” you clear your throat dropping the octave as much as you can. “If not for Steve Rogers you wouldn’t be here lady bug, he’s the true hero saving all our butts.” 

At first Steve just sat there, a touch shocked, a touch moved. Not that he hadn’t been called a hero before, many times in fact that at some points it really didn’t mean much because most didn’t mean it. But to hear you say it even in that silly voice, it stirred something inside him. “Is he still alive?”

“Oh yes, very much so. Lives in DC still, house he was born and raised in since the 20’s,” there’s pride in your tone, as your own eyes drop back to your computer. Booting up the system you take a deep drink from you’re now warm coffee. “I’ll let you get back to your sketch, I’ve taken up enough of your time. Just pretend I’m not here.”

“No, you’re not bothering me doll,” flipping the pad closed, not wanting to get anything on it. The birds do dive bomb from time to time as he’s learned. “What uh,” he rubs the back of his neck, not wanting to sound self-absorbed, but curiosity got the better of him. “What stories did your Granddad tell you about me?”

You can see the nerves, something telling you that he’s uncomfortable about asking, his posture a dead giveaway, but interest is there to. “The good ones mostly.”

Smiling, seeing that you’re teasing him, “So he didn’t tell you about the time I toilet papered the General’s tent just to see how angry he’d get?”

“Ah no, but he did tell me how you mud washed some poor privets jeep,” you’re trying to hold back the laughter through seeing his shocked face does in you.

Folding over your computer laughing into the crook of your arm, you hear the sweetest sound ever. Guff laughter from the man sitting beside you that tickles your ears and makes you smile. You’ve managed to do what so few have, making Steve Rogers feel normal for once since the serum’s injection into his body. So many have seen him as nothing more than a weapon, or an icon for others to follow. Forgetting that he’s a man as well.

“Thank you,” he’s wiping tears away still chuckling.

“For?” your puzzled, regaining your own wits about you looking over at him.

“Making me feel less of a science experiment gone wrong and more human,” breathe catching in your throat when you catch the spike of uncertainty in those beautiful sky blue eyes of his. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but there’s something about you that he feels like he can honestly talk to you.  

“Mr. Rogers honestly you aren’t a failed experiment, you’re a human being who deserves to be treated as such,” placing a hand on his arm giving it a light squeeze. “Whoever told you that is an idiot.”

“Steve please,” heat from your touch warms him in ways he’s not felt since before going into the ice and only one other time, with Peggy.

Smiling, removing the hand from his arm, you’re unsure on what to do next. What does one talk about with Steve Rogers? It’s funny actually, you normally would sit here typing away at your next piece ignoring everyone and everything around you, yet right now you don’t want to. Instead you wanted to know more about the man behind the myth.

That thought is taken, along with what to talk about from you, as his phone rings. A frown marring that handsome visage as he listens to the voice on the other end. “Understood, I’ll be there in ten,” the cadence has changed, dropped an octave. “I’m really sorry, I have to go.”

“Of course it was nice meeting you Steve,” you rose with him offering your hand which he takes and shakes. On impulse you stand on tip toes, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “For all you’ve done and will do but most of all for saving a man’s life you didn’t even know.”

Astounded, Steve tries to cover the light pink which dusts his cheeks though secretly pleased. “My pleasure miss,” tipping his head to one side he’s at a loss for what to do and no time to think of anything. The advice from Bucky doing him little good right now, “I’ll see you around?”

“Count on it Cap,” shooting him a cheesy smile while retaking your seat.

Groaning though the smile on his lips tells of a different story, Steve waves before taking off down the street and into danger. Wondering if he’ll ever see you again. You as well think the same thing, but push those thoughts aside. Today had been a fluke you wouldn’t be so lucky again.

Part 2

How can anyone stand to ingest orange byproducts . Like. How. Does it not burn your nose and make the flesh of your mouth feel like a science experiment gone wrong. What durable substances are you people made of to withstand such devil fruit

I stand motionless in front of the mirror, deliberately taking off each item of clothing and inspecting the bare flesh it exposes. Never had I paid much attention to what it felt to expose myself and assess each acute part of my body on an emotional level. Every marking or scarred tissue, a story to tell. A chemical burn in the shape of a capital ‘F’ on my right hand - a reminder of a science experiment gone wrong when the girl I had a crush on foolishly dumped too much amount of ceroxide into the beaker. Or the sharp, raised white line drawn across my knee from an overzealous soccer tackle. Or the seasonal freckles that invade my cheeks during summer - a constant reminder of my father that had passed just sixteen months after my birth.

My body tells the story of my life. A map of my self-discovery. My body - my physicality - has both protected me and isolated me. As a child, primary school was unkind to me. Growing up in a small country town where coming from a mixed-race family was alien, the racial taunts were abundant, and my thick black hair and my dark complexion were a dead giveaway that I was different, let alone my proud Filipino mother.

Emotionally too weak to deal with the racial slurs, my body responded and became my savior. I learned to use my physicality as a means of defense. I was the kid so puffed up with bravado and aggression, yet so full of pain. And I carried this big posture all throughout high school, making sure I was the biggest, strongest, and angriest as a device to ward off the would-be tormentors. Bruce Lee and Arnold Schwarzenegger hung on my wall - my inspiration to keep up the the facade of the alpha male. My heroes. My idols. Both strong and indestructible, if there was a problem, it was resolved with a clenched fist.

I subscribed to this mentality, and it served its purpose through my schooling years. However, when it came to dealing with the real issues that laid beneath my skin, I found it was the very same aggression that protected me that now hindered me.

In retrospect, I was never happy with my body. And I’m still not. I always felt uncomfortable in the changing room after P.E. at school, or on swimming sports days. I would look at the other boys running around with their shirts off, absolutely oblivious to the discomfort that I was feeling. I recall a time when I was about eleven or so, and it was a sweltering summer’s day. I had found the $1.80 I needed to enter the local pool on my mother’s dresser, so I stole it, and I ran as fast as my stumpy little legs could handle, all the way to the pool. My friends were there already, their shirts off, reclining, eating their Twisties, and the sun was drawing their shadows on the wet concrete. And all my excitement seemed to just reel up inside of me, like a horse pulling up a jump that was just too big or too far for it. And I didn’t want to take my shirt off. I was ashamed of what hid underneath it. And a great lump curled up in my throat and my shame screamed at me to leave the pool - to leave my friends. I conceded to the voices in my head, and I gave my friends a thin excuse and I slowly scuffed my way back home.

And I still live with that shame. My body is the story of my life, or so I thought. I began acting at university. I didn’t know why, I just knew that I loved it. Nowadays, my reasons for the choice are much clearer. Acting, for me, is the ultimate escapism. It’s a chance to have a completely out-of-body experience, and maybe it’s a chance for me to escape the unexplained shame. Yet, it isn’t. Mentally and emotionally, I may be able to transcend who I am, but physically I can’t. And this became glaringly obvious to me when I began working in the film and television industry.

I act because I love the art, so when I began professional work, the thought of my face, my body, my story becoming a commercial quantity never came to mind. Then, all of a sudden, my body became a product you could view nightly on national television. My body was no longer subject to my own thoughts - it was now a topic of the public forum. And - this sounds horribly vain, but I’ll just keep going - out of my own curiosity, or vanity, I began to read the reviews of my work. Yet, when it came to the comments, it was all about what I looked like. I found images of me on websites, rating my body out of ten, with usually comments ranging from “Yes, I would fuck him,” or “No, I wouldn’t go near him with a ten foot pole and the look of him makes my skin crawl.” And I can say that the scared little boy at the pool was now terrified.

Arnold and Bruce Lee now loomed over me once again, but this time, they didn’t instill me with strength - rather, they instilled me with a sense of inadequacy. What I should look like, that I needed a six pack, or I need biceps bigger than I’d ever require. It was the first time that I guess I’d been exposed to sexual objectification, and I wasn’t the only male at my work feeling it. There was pressure on the guys on the show to look a certain way, and it was rarely talked about. We all suffered in our own silence, and the gossip rags and the papers labelled us as girl-crazy, sex symbols, whatever - and the publicity, which is a compulsory requirement, turned us into pinup boys for schoolgirls. And all the media fueled the fire of sexual objectification. And here I was, stuck in the middle of it, wishing I’d never stole my mother’s $1.80.

But nowadays, I’ve reconciled with the fact that it is part of my job to look a certain way, to attain a certain physique. However, this realization hasn’t helped reconcile my own issues of self-perception. If anything, it’s complicated it further. All the attention from the media made me question my own worth - did I get the opportunity to work in the film and television industry based on my talent or hard work, or was it just simply because of the way I looked?

When I was asked to speak about the topic of my body, I tried to collect my experiences surrounding my body and what it meant to me, and while I was doing so, it became clear to me that the topic of body and body image for me is intrinsically linked to identity. My body is a map of my self-discovery, but does that mean I’m comfortable in my own skin? Of course not. And I don’t think I’ll ever be. But it’s a journey that’s really exciting to take.


Bob Morley, “What Men Really Think About Their Body”

You can watch the whole thing here, but Bob’s speech really moved me and I had to share it here. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that the male actors we idolize experience their own sexual objectification in the spotlight, and often share many of the same insecurities that we all struggle with in our personal lives. I am in awe of Bob’s honesty in this speech, and floored by how much of myself I saw in his story. This is a must-read for anyone who watches The 100 or any of Bob’s work, and finds themselves admiring or scrutinizing his looks - he amounts to so much more than his body. We all do.