sharp shock

some of my favourite bits/random thoughts from beauty and the beast (2017)

(Warning: spoilers ahead) (this is long and goes through the entire movie cause i need to talk about it alright

  • the pretentiousness of the prince at the beginning and his face when he handles the rose - amazing face by dan stevens might i add 
  • how the entire castle kinda looks like a rose and when it crumbles whenever the petals fall - that shit was wild man 
  • that the town was actually diverse??? amazing and beautiful
  • “she hasn’t made a fool of herself to gain my favour. What would you call that?” “Dignity” (same)
  • that mother fucking groan in ‘belle (reprise)’ that every woman can relate to
  • when cadenza had that ‘oh shit’ moment 
  • maurice trying to act all chill before freaking the fuck out 
  • lets be real - every moment between lumiere and cogsworth
  • “Who are you?” “Who are you?” - same adam 
  • why doesn’t this castle have any railings? like, i understand its a dungeon or whatever….but like,,,safety people???
  • “or as i like to call it, the only wing” nice save lumiere 
  • table dancing in gaston….so many feelings for it 
  • “You can’t judge people by who their father is, now can you?” YASSSS GIVE ME BACKSTORY I LOVE THIS SHIT
  • the fact that adam/the beast struggles with having a normal conversation cause he’s an idiot who hasn’t interacted with people properly in yearssssssss
  • the fact that mrs potts is okay with belle leaving. she’s so sweet and i loved her in this
  • also, the amount of extra lumiere was in this scene? amazing 
  • does the beast sleep in a nest or a bed? like….i have a lot of feelings about this okay
  • (dan stevens knocks me out every time he talks in this movie okay. SO MUCH EMOTION)
  • the fact that the castle has a doggy door????
  • The way that the beast fainted, was like… very human and i love it okay
  • do you think agatha was fucking tired of waiting for a girl to come around or do you think it’s destiny that led her there - too many rose motifs have forced me into these thoughts
  • how nuts is gaston tho??? like the fuck is up with him really??
  • “My favourite is romeo and juliet” *beast eyerolls for days* (like same dude)
  • (also, highly sure the library scene is where beast realises he likes belle) 
  • the beast imitating the horse; beautiful and adorable 
  • snowball scene
  • “What do you say we run away?” - YAS BITCH YASSSSSS
  • “too touristy?” - i love him 
  •  the water from the bath splashing on lumiere….brilliant
  • the dress was beautiful and i will fight everyone who says it isn’t great 
  • The bit where the beast sees belle run away, that sharp exhale of like shock and sadness 
  • in evermore where the beast closes his eyes to go with the line “i close my eyes and she’s still there’ - LIKE, THAT ACTUAL HEAD SHAKE OF HIM REALISING HOW IN LOVE WITH HER HE IS. FUCKING RUIN ME
  •  “I am not a beast” - YAS BITCH, YOU TELL HIM 
  • also…..adam fucking jumped across the castle to get to belle….goals 
  • the beast was shot 3 times in the back….i mean….tough as shit he is 
  • He just wanted her there, to say goodbye and he’s in love with her and i’m dead inside 
  • when all the servants transformed….i cried 
  • i love dan stevens so i will defend his ridiculous hair until i die 
  • plus that kiss was gold and i loved it 
  • (tho i do wish he had said something to her in that moment, just something) 
  • i loved lumiere and plumette - so cute (but also it should have been lumiere and cogsworth)
  •  that final dance tho….amazing 
  • the growl
  • i’m done. i am dead inside because of this fucking movie i swear to g 
Don’t get caught

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, oral

Word count: 936 

Summary: Tom, Y/N and Harrison are watching a movie. Harrison falls asleep and Tom gets bored. 

A/N: Hi guys! This is my first imagine I’ve written in a year so I’m a little rusty. Please feel free to send in requests or give feedback. Or if you just wanna chat, I’m always happy to. Hope you enjoy

The way his eyes were stuck on you, staring like you were the most beautiful thing in the entire world, but let’s face it, you are the most beautiful thing in his world. You were trying to keep your eyes fixed on the television screen in front of you, but his gaze was becoming quite the distraction. You, your boyfriend Tom and his best friend Harrison were sat watching a movie, as you do every Friday night, but this time it was your turn to choose the film, but neither boy was very happy with your decision.

“Tom, can you watch the movie please? I know you’re not particularly interested in what I’ve chosen but can you at least pretend that you’re somewhat enjoying it?” He gave a slight nod and turned his head to face the screen once more. His hand found its way to your thigh, but it fell lazily against your skin, so you let it be.

About five minutes pass, and Tom’s face nuzzles into your neck, his hot breath making small goosebumps rise across the small patch of exposed skin that wasn’t tucked under the fluffy blanket you had wrapped around you. “Y/N please”, he whispers. You don’t even look at him, but say “If Haz can watch the movie, then so can you.”

“But he’s asleep!” He whisper yells. You look over at Harrison, his body lay flat on the carpet with his face pressed into a cushion. Small breathy snores left his lips every few seconds. Okay, so he was asleep. “Well what do you want me to do about it? I can’t wake him up.” You question your boyfriend, he obviously was not willing to suffer through this movie without the support of his friend. Despite his pleas, you return your focus to the screen and try your best to ignore his hand wandering from your thigh up further to waistband of your pyjama pants.

You could tell from the short puffs of breath and small sighs coming from Tom that he was very frustrated, and just as a kissing scene came on the screen, he groaned, clearly annoyed that was not happening between the two of you at that very moment. Giving in, you grab the remote and pause the movie, and then turn the tv off. Tom takes this action as an indication for him to finally slip his hand down past the waistband of your pants and rest his hand firmly on your clothed heat, a faint spot of wetness seeping through, as the thought of what was going to happen crossed your mind. His lips attacked the bare skin on your neck, leaving a combination of open mouth kisses and short sucks on the skin. “T-Tom” you say, trying to get up from your position on the couch, to make your way to your room. “Where are you going baby?” he asks, keeping an arm around you so you can’t move. You nod your head towards your room but he shakes his head.

“I want to take you right here, darling.” You suck in a sharp breath, shocked. “But what about Haz?”

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this is my gift for @defractum for the @aftgexchange valentine’s day round! one of your prompts was an urban fantasy au and holy hell i am weak for it so here:

Modern covens aren’t like the old-fashioned ones, but the Fox Coven is more unconventional than most. For one thing, they don’t live in one giant den of iniquity in a backwater town, close to the trees and the moon and what-the-fuck-ever-else.

To be fair, Andrew’s lot does live in a small den of iniquity, forced into close quarters by promises drawn far tighter than blood. But it’s a city apartment, at least. Probably closer to the moon, and definitely further away from the wild animals covens attract like crazy.

What it does mean is travel. Covens are by nature tightly knit, and even the Monsters aren’t immune. That necessity is what sees Andrew - and, of course, Kevin - travelling three quarters of the way across the city to Renee and Allison’s townhouse on a bitter cold Tuesday afternoon.

Renee’s taste for pretty and Allison’s for pink means their two-bedroom in the suburbs looks just like a gingerbread house. It’s in contrast to the wards, which are blood-bound and harder than stone to anyone with the senses to feel them. Knitted in to them are Andrew’s own speciality, centred in the gardens and asleep with winter peace.

Except, when Kevin and Andrew approach, they aren’t asleep. The roses are whispering loud enough even Kevin can probably hear them, murmuring of their taste for blood underneath their repetition of Andrew’s command to wait and hold. They’re sentinels, all thorns and hunger, nurtured by Andrew from seedlings and planted here for just this purpose.

Allison’s in the doorway, confined to the front stoop by the sudden explosion of rose vines across what was a beautifully manicured lawn. The captive in the centre of the thorns has gone still - they never fight for long, with the threat of inch-long thorns aimed at eyes and all the other tender spots. They aren’t designed to kill, only capture, and maim a little if necessary.

They shiver and retreat from Andrew’s touch, quiescing. Like all plants, they resist against anything that isn’t growth, but Andrew never has to ask twice. Only the centre-most vines remain, curled around wrists and ankles like manacles, to reveal their prize ward-breaker.

And there - there’s a surprise.

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He’s Dangerous, But Not Around You: Part 2

A/N: Sorry for the delay. This is also kinda shitty.

Part 1

Masterlist linked in bio

Two months after Harry’s violent encounter with Niall, Y/n and Harry have been working on Harry’s temper. It wasn’t going so well, still coming home with bloody hands, cut knuckles, and covered in sweat. He was growing more frustrated with himself as time went on. He’s tried so hard to walk away from a situation that got him angry, but right as he’d walk away, every part of his body would go into fury and all he did from then on seemed out of his control. Y/n was always disappointed, but always stayed with him and defended him in any way that she could. She had never given up on him, not even for a second.

“You’re a peach” she’d always say, with the cutest fucking smile he’s ever seen in his life, “I’ll always love you, you just have to get through this.”

And oh, how badly did he want to. Not even just for Y/n, but for himself.

“Just a bit more scotch.” Harry grumbles to the bartender, sliding his glass toward him.

He hasn’t been drinking much, in fact, he really isn’t a big drinker to begin with. He only goes to bars when the guys ask him to. Of course, since Y/n wasn’t planned to be coming back from her sister’s for a couple more hours, he agreed.

“Yo, guys, look at that bird” Zayn says, grabbing the boys’ attention to a tall, slender blonde woman across the room.

The boys whistle, but Harry just simply turned his attention back to his refilled scotch. Other girls didn’t phase him, they didn’t do anything for him. Y/n is the only woman he’s ever loved, even looking at another woman didn’t feel right to him.

He sips on his drink as the boys are encouraging Zayn to approach her. Harry scoffs lightly, quickly diverting his attention to the vibrating phone in his back pocket. Quickly sliding it out, he sees Y/n’s name with a “Just left. See you soon, my love xx.” He smiles, immediately texting back saying that he’ll be waiting for her and how much he’s missed her.

It had only been three days without Y/n, but he misses her terribly. He’d spent nearly everyday comforted in her company for two years. He misses how he is with her, so delicate and true. She’s the only person to bring that out of him, how could he not miss that? How could he not miss the only person that brings out the best of him?

Harry is drowned in his thoughts until Liam snapped him out of his trance.

“Harry? Harry!” Liam says, pushing onto his shoulder.

Harry shakes his head slightly, “Uh- yeah? Yeah? What’s up?”

“Isn’t that Y/n’s ex?”

Harry’s head snaps to where Liam is pointing. He already feels his fingers clench to fists and his jaw becoming tense.

Hell no. Not him. Harry’s supposed to be getting better, he’s supposed to be making an effort to help himself. He hasn’t been doing that well, but he hasn’t fought since Y/n left and he wanted it to stay that way. What’s a better welcome back gift than for him to have not let her down again?

But he has to. Although her ex had stopped harassing Y/n since Harry stepped in, something inside of him is igniting with every passing second he spends staring at him. How dare he say all those things to her and threaten her like that? How dare he do that to his Y/n? She lived in fear for way too long because of Kurt. How could he not do something about it?

“Mate, mate. Calm down” Liam orders when he sees Harry stand up from the bar stool, “He hasn’t spoken to her in a while, yeah? That’s in the past, man. Y/n wouldn’t want you to do thi-“

“You think I give a fuck what Y/n wants me to do right now?!” Harry hisses, “He threatened her, you understand me? How would you feel if the love of your life was being harassed by a scum so much to the point where she can’t sleep at night?”

Liam swallows harshly, “I just don’t want you to lose her.”

Harry roughly grabs onto Liam’s arm, staring at him harshly in his eyes.

“I will never lose her” Harry snaps, “I’m doing this for her. If this were any other person right now I’d walk out those doors before I can blink. He ruined her life, I will never let him live that down. Now leave me alone.”

He rips his hand away from his death grip on Liam, quickly looking around the bar to see if Kurt is still there. He is. Drinking beer, chatting with some mates, seeming as though he hasn’t even acknowledged Harry’s existence.

He hears the boys muttering under their breath, only picking up a subtle “just let him be”, completely fixated on the man he’s been dying to see for months now.

His fist clench at his sides, body storming in his direction. This is it, this is what he needs to do. He doesn’t care about what Y/n would think of him, not now, because in all honesty, he’d feel more guilty if he were to let Kurt get away with what he did to Y/n than to beat him in cold blood.

Kurt looks up the second Harry approaches him, but before he has any time to react, Harry punches him as hard as he could. He drops to the floor, a loud groan leaving his lips once he’s out of shock. Harry doesn’t waste any time before lifting him back up on his feet by the back of his shirt, mercilessly ramming his back up against the nearest wall.

The bar falls silent, everyone’s attention diverted directly to the violence unfolding.

You didn’t stop!” Harry screams in his face, teeth clenched as he speaks, “She asked you to stop and you didn’t until I stepped in! You’re fucking dead, you hear me?!”

He throws another wild punch directly to his face. Kurt almost falls down again, but his loss of balance is no match against Harry’s raging grip. He spits out blood before lifting his head up. He’s panting, teeth covered in blood, cheek already bruised with his blood smeared all over it.

“You think you’re any better?” Kurt questions between harsh breaths. “Think you can keep her with you when this is how you act?”

Harry grips his throat, glaring at him in the most threatening way he ever has before.

“Don’t you dare make this about me.”

“You know you’re a monster, Harry, yet you still keep her with you. Why do you keep doing that to her, huh? Why do you do that to her?”

Harry roars, pushing Kurt’s body towards him before throwing it back onto the wall. Kurt groans again, squeezing his eyes shut in pain.

I said don’t make this about me!

His grip is tighter against his neck. He watches as Kurt mildly struggles for breath, but he’s not giving up. Not just yet.

“You think I’m the worst thing that’s ever happened to her, but you’re wrong.” Kurt chokes out, “you are.”

Before he says anything else, in the midst of his uncontrollable rage, Harry throws one last punch to him. He immediately becomes unconscious. Harry lets his body drop to the floor, strangled breath making his way into his lungs.

He looks around the bar. Shocked faces, people cowering away. He doesn’t care. All he can feel are unwanted tears piling in his eyes and his hands shaking against his thighs. Everything was right, everything he said was right.

“Harry, man” Louis walks up to him, everybody still staring shocked at him, “lets get you home, yeah?”

Louis throws a jacket around Harry’s shoulders, noticing the small nod in agreement before the boys lead him out of the bar.

“The boys told me what happened.”

Harry is snapped out of his trance at the sound of her voice. He hadn’t even heard her enter the house. He hasn’t said a word since he left the bar, hasn’t even looked at anyone since as well. Something about what Kurt said affected him in a way he never thought was possible. It was like he picked on a weak spot for him, like he dug into his mind and told him that all his greatest fears have now come true. Y/n isn’t right for him, and she never will be.

Y/n sighs, sitting down on the chair next to where Harry’s sat. She grabs onto his hands softly, her thumb running softly over his knuckles.

“Don’t listen to him” she whispers, “he doesn’t know anything about us.”

Harry looks at her in confusion. How is she not upset with him? How is she letting him get away with this again? This should have been the last straw, the last chance she had given him. How could she be doing this?

“It’s okay, Harry” she smiles softly, placing her hand on his face, “you were protecting me. You shouldn’t have done that, but you did. Not because you wanted to, but because you felt like you had to.”

Harry’s vision clouds over with tears, slowly taking her hands off of him. He just can’t keep doing this to her.

“How are you defending me right now?”

“Because, Harry, you-“

“Why do you even stay with me, huh?” Harry growls, flinging himself off of the chair.

Y/n let in a sharp breath, not entirely shocked by the question, but by the way he asked it. He normally asks why when he’s his weakest, after a fight while Y/n’s cleaning him up, or in bed after love making for hours on end. He’s never said so violently, like he’d doubting the relationship they’re in. Like he’s doubting her.

“Harry, why would you even-“

“Look at you, Y/n, look at you!” Harry raises his voice, interrupting her "You have all your shit figured out, you’re pure. Do you not see that? You’re pure. The only part of you that isn’t is me. I’m the part of your life that is reckless and dangerous and you want me to live with that for the rest of my life?!”

Y/n’s eyebrows furrow at his comment. A part of her feels guilty that he feels that way, like he’s the bad part of her that doesn’t belong. But a part of her also knows he’s right. Yes, of course he’s the part of her life that’s full of danger, but she doesn’t care. If anything, it makes her stronger, makes her want to stand up for herself and stray from the idea that she’ll never be anything more than a shy, weak girl she once was. He may see them as the worst thing for each other, but to her, it’s the best.

“No,” she speaks up, “No, because that’s not something you have to live with! I’m in love with you. You- You make me a better person, Harry! It doesn’t matter to me if you’re the dangerous part of my life, because no matter crap you pull, at the end of the day you’re still the same man I will forever love. The fact that we make each other better people, Harry, that’s what you have to live with.”

“I’m a monster, Y/n.” He speaks slowly, eyes filled with tears.

“You aren’t anything like that and you know that! You aren’t anything like you think you are, Harry, stop confusing who you really are with this image you want people to see you as!”

“That’s who I am, Y/n! Have you ever thought of that?!” His voice suddenly became louder, stronger, desperately trying to make her understand how absolutely wrong they are. But his eyes are bloodshot, filled with guilt and tears, overwhelmed by her seeing this side of him.

“I can’t be fixed! You can’t fix me because this is who I am! I am like this with everybody except for you. Wouldn’t you stop to think, even for a goddamn second that who I’m with you is fake?! Have you ever thought of that?!”

“Stop it, Harry! Just stop!” She yells, her hands gripping the sides of her head momentarily. "You’re drunk and you’re upset and I understand that but this is not who you are. You are hurt. You’re only 20 years old, your parents died, H. You didn’t have a home, your siblings left you because they blamed you for their death. You do this because you’re broken and you’re in pain and you want to push people away so that they don’t leave you first. I know this because you told me this yourself. How can I blame you, H?!”


His voice is animalistic, roaring in so much anger Y/n feels a vibration in the air around her. He throws a glass across the kitchen, the glass shattering onto the hardwood floor. Y/n’s body stiffens, never seeing him react so violently around her. 

He’s guilty the second he’s done it. He’s never acted this way toward her, but he can’t help it. He’s angry with himself. He’s had Y/n by his side for the past two years, always willing to help him and be there for him whenever he needed her. Seeing her reputation being ruined because of him, seeing how she’s been wasting her last two years hoping to change a man that can never be changed, it destroys him. She’s wasting her time with him. He’s a dead end, a false hope, and Y/n shouldn’t spend the rest of her life loving a man who could do this to her.

“Do you see that?” Harry whispers. “Do you see why this is a problem? I almost hurt you.”

Y/n shakes her head, slowly making her way toward his defeated body. She looks up at him, his eyes glossed with frustrated tears, looking at her the way he almost always does- with guilt. She runs her hands softly along his muscular arms in hope to calm him down.

“You’ll never hurt me.” She says softly, “I’m not afraid of you.”

Harry’s face scrunches in agony. He turns his head away from her, refusing to even look at her anymore. He can’t be weak, he can’t be right now.

“No. No, Y/n, stop.” He mutters, his hands pushing her away from him. 

He turns his back to her, not being able to look at her right now because of how much guilt he’s feeling.

Y/n shuts her eyes softly in attempt to rid the tears clouding her vision. No matter how hard she tries, he just keeps pushing her away. It hurts her- it hurts her to see him in war with himself. How a part of him is trapped, screaming, on his knees begging to be saved, and the other part of him so sure that there’ll be nobody listening to his pleas, finding it almost comedic that he’s lost all hope in his humanity.

“What else is there for me to do, Harry? I don’t know what it is you want me to do.”

Harry keeps his back toward her. Every atom in his body is pushing him to look back at her, hold her to him until the sun comes up, but he can’t. He can’t stand how heartbroken she sounds. Hell, she’s crying. Soft cries ripping out from her, and all he can fucking think about is how this is all his fault.

“All I want to do is help you, Harry. All I do is help you and you keep pushing me away.” She sobs- broken.

Her teary eyes are desperately looking at his tense frame, just hoping he’d turn around just so they can work things out- like they always do. She hopes he can see just how much he’s hurting more than he ever has before.

“I know what you’re doing. You do this with everyone else. I know you love me, and I know you love me more than anybody else in your life right now. You’re just pushing me away because you think I’ll leave you. You think we aren’t going to last because everyone made you believe that but you know I don’t know how to live without you. I’m not everyone else, Harry, this is different, we’re different.”

Harry lets loose tears fall down his face, his fingers fiddling with each other as he tries to understand her. But he can’t, he just can’t

She walks over to him, her hand reaching up to his shoulder. She massages his muscles softly as she presses soft kisses to his back. She’s still crying, soul shaking sobs still leaving her, but she can’t help but keep trying for him to realize she’s utterly and helplessly in love with him. There is nothing to lose between them, not if he were to just believe she would never give up on him.

“Just tell me what you want me to do.“

Feeling Y/n’s lips against his back makes him exhale a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It still amazes him how much she affects him. After two years he still never understood it. But all the good she’s done to him has only ever come back to harm her. Her friends leaving her, her having to come home to her boyfriend’s hands covered in somebody else’s blood, her having to leave her life with her family because every moment without her was another moment of danger, all because of him. And he can’t live with that.

He moves his shoulder away from her, feeling her detach from his body. He looks down, eyes squeezed shut. He doesn’t know how to do this. Especially to her.

“There’s nothing you can do, Y/n!” He cries out, flinging his body around so that he’s finally facing her.

“I would do anything for you, and you know that. But I can’t change myself just so that I can be with you. I can’t change who I am for you.” He whispers the last part, staring heartbroken in her eyes.

“God!” Y/n sobs out, punching her hands against his chest, “You know I’m not asking you to change! I just want to help you! And you won’t let me!”

Harry grabs Y/n’s wild hands in his, in hopes of calming her down. He feels like she hasn’t taken a fucking breath. She’s just so heartbroken, she’s lost and confused and on the verge of complete and utter desperation to have him stay with her.

It’s when Harry pulls her against him where she completely breaks down. He holds her head against his chest while she sobs against his black t-shirt. His fingers comb through her hair softly, chin held up by the top of her head. Harry hasn’t said anything, just listening to Y/n’s desperate pleading as she pulls at the back of his shirt.

“Pl-please don’t do this to me.” she cries out, taking in a harsh breath due to her lack of breath. “Please don’t leave me.”

She feels Harry tense against her body. He shuts his eyes softly, sighing out as he removes his hands from her.

“It’s over, Y/n.” He says softly, “Everything about us is wrong. It’s over.”

Y/n has never felt so much pain in her life. She pulls away from him, her eyes searching for any sign of remorse on his face, but there is none. He’s staring at her emotionless, but every part of him is breaking. The way she’s looking at him, he has never seen her look like that before. She just looks so- so defeated.

Just like that, everything she believed she had a purpose for has been ripped away from her. She doesn’t say anything as she lets go of him. Without a word, she half-heartedly makes her way up the stairs and into the bedroom.

Harry flinches when he hears the door slam shut. He wishes he could cry, wishes he could go onto his knees and beg for forgiveness. He wishes he could be angry, punch a wall, curse at himself, blame himself. But he can’t, he feels nothing. Isn’t that ironic? How the man who mostly feels the most dangerous feeling in the world now can’t feel a thing?

He stays in the same place he was left for what feels like eternity before he hears Y/n make her way down the steps. He turns around and rounds the corner that leads to the front door. He watches Y/n as she sets down her duffle bag, opening the closet door to grab a jacket. She grabs everything she needs before she finally opens up the front door. She can’t go back, she can’t turn around to look at him. She doesn’t have the strength.

She’s still crying. She still hasn’t said anything.

“Can you say something, please?” Harry croaks out, wanting nothing more than for her to at least say something to him, at least acknowledge his existence.

She stops walking, hand still on the doorknob. She sucks in a breath.

“You did it, Harry” she whispers, “you’ve finally hurt me.”

She turns her head, but not enough for her to be able to see him, but enough for him to know how much she means what she’s about to say.

“I never want to see you again.”


Summary: Derek and Stiles + a cabin in Michigan + a lot of snow = Pining

Notes: This post made me want to write a fic that had snowed in, bed sharing, and mutual pining. Though I am by no means claiming that this is a god-tier fic! (On AO3)

“What the hell?” Stiles grumbles, watching the snow fall outside the window. It’s very beautiful, but also very unwanted. “It’s April.”

“Sometimes it snows until May here,” Derek says, and Stiles scowls.

“Well, if this trip is good for anything, it’s for showing me that Michigan is an awful place,” he huffs. “So much for having fun up here. I wanted to see the Mystery Spot!”

“The Mystery Spot is pretty lame,” Derek says, sitting on the couch next to him. “It’s just a crooked building on a hill.”

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MariChat May: The Oracle’s Gift

Special thanks to @toukabunni33 for playing Beta for me!

Love Square

Rated: T

The Oracle’s Gift

MariChat May Prompts:

Aged Up! Chat

Aged Up! Marinette

Identity Reveal

One Shot

Adrien, in the guise of Chat Noir, had been enjoying one of his few moments of leisure at Marientte’s, laying down on her chaise, eyes watching as the girl fussed over a new design that she was making.

This moment, this was one of his favorite moments of time. Where he was able to spend time with Marinette without her stuttering. He adored watching her work, playing video games with her. Everything seemed platonic between them. Adrien quickly and easily called her his best friend after all the time he spent with her as Chat.

Sadly, he wouldn’t tell her his identity. Not until he showed Ladybug. Marinette had an ever-growing spot in his heart, but Ladybug was there first, and her grasp was still firm. He hoped one day she’d have it completely as his partner, friend… and hopefully his girlfriend, maybe more one day.

He had few days like this. When he meant days, he meant daylight hours. It took much pleading and bribing, but he had convinced Nathalie to give him a couple days off just to hang out with friends and get his energy back. Between school, modeling, and all of his extra lessons—not to mention his time as Chat Noir—he was completely burnt out energy wise.

It was when his Baton sounded off with an Akuma Alert from the Ladyblog that he hissed in annoyance.

He heard a lighter hiss, Marinette shaking her hand, the sound having startled her enough that she stabbed herself in the finger with a needle.

“I’m okay! Just got my finger.” She moved the digit between her lips, looking towards him. “Go. Go save people, Chat. I’ll be here when you get back.” She said, pulling the digit away once the bleeding had stopped.

A small smile was tossed her way as he moved to go out the hatch that lead to her balcony.

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Nyx-Chapter 13

Summary: Nyx was an ancient deity usually envisaged as the very substance of the night–a veil of dark mists drawn across the sky to obscure the light of Aither, the shining blue of the heavens. Her opposite number was Hemera (Day) who scattered the mists of night at dawn. she was doomed to walk the earth in search of her consort Erebus.

Warnings: My usual. Angst, Violence And Smut

Pairings: Bucky X Reader, Avengers x Reader

A/N: There is smut in this chapter, (The first bit, but there are major plot points too, so minors i aint gonna tag you, If you do, for the love of chuck skip over the first bit)

Thor’s POV:

“A double date?” you ask Thor in disbelief, the bit of croissant you were about to plop into your mouth hanging precariously from your fingertips. “Explain!” you demand, dropping the remnants of your breakfast back onto the plate, appetite completely forgotten.

Thor looks down sheepishly. He had not thought having lunch with Sergeant Barnes and his Lady would elicit this reaction from you. Sighing deeply, he removes the discarded breakfast from the bed, placing the tray on the nightstand. “I did not know it would upset you so, my love, I apologize. Sergeant Barnes merely wants to start afresh. I had hoped this would be a good start.”

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For the equivalent of 6 months on Altea, Lance hadn’t touched his bayard.

Hell, he hadn’t even put on his gear.

“I’m sorry, Lance. The lions have chose their paladins— but don’t worry, your still a part of this team.” Allura did her best to reassure him. Little did she know that he had accepted this fate as a sign that he shouldn’t have ever gotten too comfortable, too close to the lions he piloted… he knew one day he would be hurting.

So Lance did what he could around the castle and helped out Coran during the missions. Anything to keep him busy and maybe feel like he was contributing something to the effort.

Inside he was crushed, every night he would relive the moment when the red lion shut him out— the same way blue had done a year ago. Now that Shiro was well adjusted to the team, the blue lion had chosen him as its new paladin, and bumped Allura up to red. It’s what they deserved. Keith had tried to get Allura to step down, reclaim her duties to the castle, but she couldn’t let go of her father’s legacy— and everyone knew she was as loyal to the team as Lance once was.

Until one fateful mission, they asked Lance to go with them. They needed him. Of course he would go, this was the chance he was waiting for!

The gear fit the same but it felt like he was putting it on for the first time. He pulled his helmet down on his head and hopped in the blue lion with Shiro.

“Thanks for letting me come, guys.” Lance tried not to sound too excited. “I was beginning to wonder if you guys were jealous that I was such a great paladin.”

“I immediately regret this.” Keith murmured into the headset and flew his lion towards the galra base.

Lance watched the black lion soar smoothly in the vast emptiness of space. He looked down at Shiro in the pilots seat, surrounded by a soft blue glow.

Lance frowned.

That should be him. It should be him in that pilots seat. Him flying this lion, him on the mission! But fate had other plans.

All five lions landed in an unguarded area near the bottom of the ship and went over the plan one last time. Hunk and Keith were to go with Lance to the core of the base, and clear a path. Shiro was to go find the leader/commander of the base and free any prisoners along the way. Allura and Pidge were to stay in the lions and help fix any problems that might occur.

In the base, Lance palmed the bayard on his hip and tried not to activate it immediately. It wasn’t his, it was Pidge’s, she had given it to him since she wasn’t going to use it for the mission. He tried to ignore that tugging feeling in the back of his head.

Hunk immediately noted the eeriness of it all. “It’s quiet.” He said nervously. “What do you think’s going on?”

“Sh.” Keith hissed. “Keep your eyes peeled and be ready.” He whispered and gripped his activated bayard harder.

Lance stared at Keith’s black blade. It was different from the red one he had previously owned. The further in they got, the more Lance wanted to see what the green bayard would do for him. He had given himself the excuse that he would need to know in case of a battle.

He removed the green bayard from his hip with a small sharp shock and familiar buzzing move through this hand. A white light brightened them faded to reveal a long barreled shotgun.

A rifle, a sniper, then a shot gun.

Lance wasn’t complaining, he was just happy he still had a gun in his hands, though the fighting still would be a lot different than what he was used to. And as if the lord was punishing him, centries surrounded them from god-knows where and started attacking.

Hunk yelped and started firing away with his canon, and Keith swung down his sword and fought viciously. Lance missed a few targets he had shot at and became frustrated. “Pidge! Why didn’t you tell us they were coming?!” He yelled into the open com.

“Sorry! We were trying to open up some doors for Shiro!” She yelled back. Allura entered the conversation,

“There are more coming behind you, be careful.”

Lance scoffed and continued to fire, trying to calm himself and not get shot at the same time. This time he hit more targets but not in the way he wanted.

Keith stabbed a centrie and swung it into a pile of others. “What’s the matter Lance? What happened to that sharp-shooter?” He joked swinging his sword out.

“Shut up, Keith.” Lance growled. “I’m a little out of practice.”

“A little?” Hunk commented just as he blasted a hole through a line of centries. “Lance you’ve missed a lot of those shots. Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you should let us handle this.”

Lance ignored them and saw the next wave of enemies Allura was talking about earlier. He turned to them and started shooting away, hitting the centries in the arm or the leg, not killing them. Eventually he screamed in anger. “WHY CANT I SHOOT?!”

Keith surpressed as smile and a laugh and focused of the task at hand. “Dont get too worked up. Like you said, you’re out of practice so just try and think. Hunk and Keith have your back.” Shiro said in a strained voice through the head piece.

Lance let the barrel of the shot gun point to the ground. “I AM THINKING! IM FOCUSED! I just cant-“

A white hot pain suddenly shot through Lance. Literally. He stopped and coughed. He was almost afraid to look down in fear of what he was about to see. His brain compelled him to do so anyway and he saw a single hole in the body suit spew blood from his abdomen. Blood. As in from a bullet.

“Shoot…” he coughed again and fell to his knees dropping the bayard on the ground. It deactivated and Keith turned his head to witness Lance fall on his face.

“LANCE!” He screamed and furiously sliced through robotic bodies until he slid next to Lance’s body.

Hunk was horrified and then overwhelmed that he had to keep fighting by himself. He wanted to be there next to Lance.

Keith turned Lance over on his back and pressed his hands against the open wound. Lance howled in pain and scratched at the floor. Keith spoke into the com: “The mission is over, we’re getting out of here.”

“Keith, you can’t just call it off-“ Shiro began.

“LANCE GOT SHOT THE MISSION IS OVER.” He screamed back and all he got was radio silence.

Lance grabbed Keith’s forearm and tried talking in a shaky and panicked breath. “No. Kee- keep going.”

“Lance we’re getting you back to the castle.” Keith removed his blood stained hands and ignored the pool of blood beneath them and tried to lift Lance up.

“No!” Lance croaked again, visibly in more pain. “I did this… to myself… I couldn’t be a paladin…” he wheezed feeling dizzy and hurting all over. “I cost you the… the mission. It’s all my fau-“ he coughed up blood all over Keith’s helmet and face.

He was thinking about how just a little over half an hour ago, he was as giddy as a kid on Christmas morning. He got to work on the field with his teammates again.

Now he’s wishing he never came.

“Shut up, Lance.” Pidge could be heard from the other line. She was running, you could tell from the way she was breathing. “We’re coming, hang on.”

“Hey Pidge, your bayard… it- it turned into a shot gun. Cool right…?” His voice became hoarse and the blood leaving his body was amazing. Hunk was crying through all of his blasting.

“Shut. Up.” Pidge said again still breathing hard.

Keith looked up to find himself behind shot in the shoulder and he screamed. He clutched it with his hand, and when he pulled it away, he couldn’t tell which blood was his and which was Lance’s.


Keith looked down at Lance soaking in a pool of his own slimy red plasma and noticed him staring at a fixed feature on the ceiling. “Lance. Lance come on, she didn’t mean it. Say something.” Keith painfully nudged Lance’s lifeless body.


Replaceable Part 6!!!

“You can’t do this! Get me out of here!” Lance shouted as the Galra threw him into a cell, a translucent green humming wall, trapping him. “This wasn’t the deal! TROQ!!”
His shouts landed on deaf ears. He went to slam his hand on the green wall, but as soon as his fist made contact, a sharp electric shock went though him. With a yelp he yanked back his hand. He observed his hand and cursed as he noticed a harsh red burn.
“Well, that’s gonna scar.” He mumbled to himself.

He took the chance to look around his cell. It was pretty depressing. It was bare except the small bench that had a raggedy pillow that was stained a red-brown color, and Lance was pretty certain that it was blood. They had taken Lance’s suit and amour a long time ago, giving him a skin tight black and purple suit that had gray highlights. Lance walked over the the cracked mirror that was leaning against the way. He looked at himself, turning around to see every angle.
“Ah, at least my ass looks great.”
A rough chuckled emitted from the next cell. “Good to know someone has their priorities set.” Lance huffed and his face turned a dark shade of red. Lance was about to respond when he heard a door slam open. Light cast shadows in the front of his cell, and he could hear the roar of a crowd, chanting and thunderous applause. The light and shadows dispersed and loud footsteps took their place. A hushed silence fell over the cells, and a bead of sweat formed on Lance’s forehead. He didn’t know why, but his gut told him that he needed to stay quiet. The footsteps passed by his cell and slowed. Lance held his breath, not daring to draw attention to himself. Lance could see that is was another Galra, but dressed in black armor. A few moments passed, and the Galra moved to the cell beside Lance’s, and he let out the breath he had been holding. The same voice that once chuckled at Lance was now screaming, begging for mercy.

Lance breath quickened and he clamped a hand over his mouth to try and suffer the noise. He could hear the Galra beginning to laugh as the prisoner next to him began trying to scurry away, the bottom of their heels scraping against the cold floor. Lance watched in horror as the Galra guard dragged the prisoner by the throat, who was helplessly clawing at the hand, trying to take in shuttering gasps. Lance scurried his feet against the floor, pushing himself back to the wall as if he could melt into it. Lance watched with wide eyes as the two disappeared out the door at the end of the hall. Lance slumped against the wall, pressing the palm of his hands into his eyes.
“Get a grip Lance. You can do this. Do if for the team, for Pidge.”
“Heh, how courageous of you, Paladin.”
Lance inhaled sharply as another Galra appeared before his cell. The guard sneered his sharp canines at him.
“The crowd is quite enthralled knowing that have a member of Voltron, the universe’s defender, as an opponent. Don’t want to disappoint them now, do we?”
The electric green wall disappeared and the Galra wasted no time charging into the cell, straight to Lance. Lance barely had time to react before there was a hand around his throat, dragging him out into the hallway.
“L-Let go of me hijo de puta!” He gasped out.
Lance grit his teeth when the Galra just smirked and ignored him. Lance gripped the guard’s wrist with both hands, and hoisted himself up, bringing one foot and landing a swift kick the the Galra’s jaw, smirking when he let out a pained grunt. But his satisfaction quickly faded when the guard dugs his claws into Lance’s shoulder, making him cry out in pain as the blood started to trickle down.
“Just you wait, little Paladin. I will take great satisfaction in seeing your blood splattered across the arena.”
Lance paled and he struggled against the grip harder and they neared the door that led to said arena. The Galra laughed as Lance continued to struggle, tightening his grip.
“It’s show time, Blue Paladin.”

The doors flew open, and the crowd’s cheers were deafening. Galra and aliens of all kinds pointing at Lance, shouting at him, placing bets on him. The guard threw Lance onto the ground, which was surprisingly covered in dirt. He crouched down to Lance, spitting in his face. “Show us your strength. Are you worthy of being a Paladin of Voltron? Or are just a pathetic human who will be killed within a matter of ticks? Whatever it is, keep us entertained.”
With that, the Galra left Lance in a room in the arena, a gate closing him off from entering or exiting. Lance could see through the cracks of the gate two forms in the arena.

One of whom was bleeding profusely, leaving a trail of blood where ever they went. The other had a dark, satisfied smirk on their face, twirling a curved above their head before sinking it into the abdomen of their opponent. Lance gasped in horror as the arena roared and cheered, watching the alien choke on their on blood, crumpling to the ground. Lance, with a sick realization, recognized the fallen alien as the one whose cell was right beside his. Lance had just seen him alive, and now. Now he was dead, slit eyes glazed over.
“Ladies and gentleman, aliens of all kind! Let’s hear it for our winner!”
The crowd’s cheers became louder, some stomping their feet, making the arena shake. “But the show has just begun! Our next opponent is a real ~special~ one. Get ready for the fight of your life!!”
Lance stared numbly as his gate to the arena slowly opened. With slow steps, Lance made his way into the light of the arena.


L A  B E L L E  E T  L E  B A R M A N O U [ co-created with faeriviera ]
      A Found Sisters Tale 
      based on the fairy tale Beauty and the Beast 

“I already told you, I can’t!” 

In a fit of desperation, she seized her damaged sleeve and swiftly tore it off, shocked gasps echoing through the chamber. There, just above her wrist were angry red marks that looked like… Aamir’s blood ran cold upon realization. He could barely register Karima’s grip on his shoulder tightening almost painfully or the strangled sound that escaped his older sister, sharp and shocked. 

Looking back on it, Isabelle could barely believe that she had the audacity to do such a thing when facing a fearsome looking stranger, but she steeled herself, staring unblinking into eyes too big for its beastly face.

“With all due respect,” her strained voice broke through the silence, “I doubt you’re the one I need to be afraid of.”

The painful stillness of the room was broken as the youngest beastanother sister, it had to be with curled, black fur and too big eyes like thatsuddenly appeared at her side. She couldn’t have been more than fourteen, Isabelle thought and again she wondered how the three beasts ended up alone in the old mirrored palace. 

"Akka, annah, please, can’t she stay?” She turned pleading eyes to Karima and Aamir, plopping down next to Isabelle on the love seat. “At least until we figure out what to do about that horrible

Aamir just barely pulled his gaze away from Isabelle in an effort to focus on an answer he still didn’t have, but before he could speak

“Munira,” Karima interjected, her tone full of exasperation and fondness that could only be found with siblings, “We’re not going after the man.”

He supposed he was grateful for that, he thought with a frown, his older sister was usually right. Whoever did this to Isabelle deserved to be torn to shreds for making her think the likes of him was her only option, but the siblings couldn’t risk going out into the world… not when they looked like this. 

“Alright, alright,” Munira conceded with a pout, “But then can’t she stay for a bit? We can’t just throw her out to the wolves!”

Through gnashed teeth, Aamir slouched back and grumbled, “Ironic choice of words. Am I going to be allowed to get a word in, petite soeur?”

A giggle escaped from Isabelle, amused at the sight of him acting more like a petulant young man than a fearsome beast. Then she remembered… he was still a creature that might not take kindly to being laughed at, least of all when he might let her stay. 

gugu mbatha-raw as beauty | riz ahmed as the beast 

Isabelle Toussaint doesn’t fit. A bookish black woman surrounded by people who can’t even fathom that she should even exist, let alone live among them. Her only real comfort is reading her stepmother’s old books, tales of dashing musketeers and secret princesses, and daydreaming about sharing her own stories with the world. During an errand to pick up new parts for her father, she unfortunately catches the attention of an entitled man who believes he deserves a most rare and exotic flower. With the village rallying behind him, there seems to be no way out… until she and her stepmother come across a glorious old palace while searching the woods for her missing father.

His rejection of a spiteful fairy’s advances left Prince Aamir and his sisters in isolation for years, racing against a deadline to free themselves from their beastly forms. The Bhatia family never thought that taking in a man lost in the woods would lead to his daughter seeking refuge, but at Isabelle’s insistence, she becomes a welcome guest. If Aamir can bring himself to lower the defenses built up after all these years, the curse may finally be broken.

there is no law that the gods must be fair

*me, languishing in the angst pit 6 days after the finale with a glass of wine in hand* this is my home now and i’m gonna stay in it for the next 9 months

missing scene from 413. clarke radios in from the tower and bellamy hears her.

wc: 1.3k | ao3

Maybe some tiny, morbid part of her always knew it would end like this.

Not like this exactly; out in the snow all by herself, the words ‘manual operation’ somehow making no sense and yet sitting heavy on her chest at the same time while her timer continues to blink, unawares that it’s no longer tracking the time until she leaves for survival, but the time left until her death.

Clarke figures that a small part of her always knew since Abby’s vision that she wasn’t going to make it to space, but she’d be damned if she didn’t see to it that her friends got there.

That doesn’t mean she’s okay though.

The radio is clutched tight in her hand, trembling slightly and she decides to try one last time.

“Raven?” she asks into the nothingness, voice small.

There’s no reply.

Licking her lips, she brings the radio closer to her helmet until it’s almost touching the glass, hand wrapped in an almost vice like grip around it. “… Bellamy?” she tries once more, hoping in vain that he can somehow hear her.

Silence again, but just when she’s about to shove it back into the bag, there’s a burst of static followed by a crackle and then-


His voice is tinny, almost too weak to be heard over the interference, but she manages. Her eyes squeeze shut wanting to commit to memory the way his voice sounds like gravel, the way his tongue curls so gently over the consonants of her name as it’s the last time she’ll ever hear him say it.

“Bellamy I-,” she pauses to swallow heavily. “I’m not going to make it back in time,” she tells him in one breath, biting the bullet.

A beat. And then, “What the hell does that mean?” he growls.

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anonymous asked:

Psst math really comes in handy as a sharpshooter so it would make sense for a math teacher bUT CAN U IMAGINE HISTORY TEACHER!BUCKY BARNES BC THAT SHIT CRACKS ME UP HE GETS REALLY IN DEPTH AND PASSIONATE THROUGH THE GREAT DEPRESSION UNITS but after that he's like kinda winging it and the students are ???¿¿¿ but now I'm sad bc can u imagine the triggers when they study things like the assasination of Kennedy and he's like well shit THERE'S SO MANY POSSIBILITIES LIKE CRACK AND ANGST AND I JUST AGH

There is something super weird going on with Maura’s new history teacher.

“No, I swear,” she insists over the loud disagreement of her friends. “He’s either, like, the biggest conspiracy theorist ever or something even weirder than that.”

“Maura, girl, you’re crazy,” Kelly says. Rolls her eyes, and Maura pokes her shoulder, steals a cheese fry.

“Okay so,” Maura says around her mouthful. “First off, he’s only got one arm, and one of the guys asked him what happened and he told this super long thing about a shark attack? And then I heard someone else in the tenth grade class asked him and he told them he fought a bear. Like, who fights a bear.

“He probably just came back from Iraq and doesn’t want to talk about it,” Kelly shrugs, “that’s what my brother says. He hates it when he’s out without his prosthetic and people stare at him.” 

“Yeah, okay, that’s fair,” Maura allows. “But then today in class, right? We’re on the 1960s unit. And he starts reading the paragraph in the textbook about Lee Harvey Oswald and then he was all, “well that’s wrong, lemme tell you,” and threw the book over his shoulder and started teaching us about sniper sightlines? With diagrams, okay.”

“That does sound weird,” Kelly agrees. “Weirder than usual even for this school. Maybe he’s one of those secret internet nut jobs.”

“I mean, he’s got the mustache and everything, right?” Bolstered, Maura steals another fry. Kelly smacks her hand.

“Don’t think I don’t see you, Maura Jones. Go get your own if you want them so bad. Hey, you coming over tonight? We gotta study for chem together.”

“Can’t tonight,” Maura tells her. Pokes her cafeteria mac and cheese. It’s deeply unappealing. “I gotta go visit my aunty Marcellette.”

“Your cousin’s mom, right? That sucks.”

“Yeah, she’s not doing so good after Trip died and all. My mom keeps asking her to move in with us, thinks she shouldn’t be on her own, but… you know how it is. I can hang tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Kelly says, “sure, okay,” and relents, pushing the fries toward her.

Maura’s just doing her homework, that’s all. Or, kinda, not doing her homework, if she’s being honest. Staring off into space like maybe her calculus will finish itself, and then she blinks into focus, stares harder at the photo on the wall.

“Aunty Marcellette, who’s that in this picture?” she asks, and her aunt pokes her head around the door of the kitchen.

“Honey, that’s your granddaddy, you know that.”

“No, the other guys,” Maura says, impatient. “This one here.”

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s his war unit,” Marcellette says. Maura gets out of her chair. Takes the picture off the wall so she can look at it closer. There’s her grandpa Jones, on the right of the photo, but the guy next to him, he-

“Can I borrow this?” she asks. “I’ll take real good care of it, I promise, it’s just… we’re doing WW2 in my history class at the moment, I wanna show my teacher.”

“I guess,” her aunty agrees. “So long as you bring it back safe.”

“I will,” Maura tells her, “I promise.” Tucks the picture into her bag, tries to concentrate on her math homework. It’s just… it’s kind of difficult, now.

She has to wait until third period the next day. History class is just before lunch; the bell goes and the other students filter out, Maura hanging behind. She’s not sure, exactly, why she wants to do this quiet. Just knows it’s the right way to do it.

“Mr Buchanan?” she asks when everyone else is gone, and he glances up at her, closes his textbook.

“Miss… Jones, right?”

“Maura,” she says, “it’s Maura.” Shy, suddenly. Ducks her head, unzips her bag. Pulls out the photo and sets it down on the desk in front of him. There’s a long silence.

“Where did you…” he asks in the end, very quiet. Chewing his lip, and Maura has a sudden realization that he can’t be older than thirty. That’s still, like, ancient, but it’s not- he should be-

“My granddad,” she whispers. “My dad’s dad.” Points to him in the photo, and her teacher draws in a breath all sharp like he’s shocked. 

“Gabe,” he says, “god, you’re-” He sits back in his chair. Runs a hand through his hair and blinks a few times. “Is your dad still…”

“He died a couple of years ago,” Maura says apologetically. “And my granddaddy when I was ten.”

“But he had a family,” Mr Buchanan says, like that matters. “After the war, he had a family. I mean, I heard, I read about all of ‘em, but it’s different knowing, right.”

“Are you really…” Maura whispers. Chews her thumbnail. “I mean, we all saw what happened in DC, right? Did you- with Captain America, I mean-”

“It’s,” her teacher says. Pauses. “Complicated. Don’t- please don’t tell anyone? SHIELD? I’m just trying- I just want- sorry, fuck, you’re just a kid, it’s not fair of me to…”

“It’s okay,” Maura tells him. “I wasn’t gonna tell anyone. But you gotta promise me one thing, okay?”

“Anything,” he says. “Except an A in this class. Scarier people than you have tried to blackmail me, right.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Maura says, offended. “I can get an A by myself, okay. I was just going to say. You have to come over to my aunty’s house for dinner. Let her tell you all about what her daddy did after the war.”

“I,” Bucky Barnes says, looking very young and very sad even with the stupid mustache covering his upper lip. “Yeah. I’d love to. I really would.”

Red Jamie and the White Lady - Part 20

Holy. Crap. You guys. This is the TWENTIETH chapter of RJWL!!! I can’t even tell you how shocked I am that this story has made it so far. It wouldn’t be here without you wonderful supporters and readers. So thank you so so so so much for all your comments. @diversemediums is amazing as always, convincing me this chapter was actually good as it was snd I didn’t need to scrap it. :D

Catch up on chapter 19 HERE

Claire sat quietly beside Murtagh in the cab, watching the streets of Paris pass by. She’d never been to Paris before. There was a vague memory of an early childhood dream to visit Paris with her true love and kiss beneath the Eiffel Tower. Maybe she could persuade Murtagh to let Jamie out for one night and they’d sneak over there. No, she sighed, that would put him in too much danger and that was too much to risk.

When the cab came to a stop, Murtagh exited first and helped her with her bag, eyes constantly moving.

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KHR Prompt

When Tsuna was little, Nana had to be on guard against kitsune trying to kidnap Tsuna because hello there fire child clearly you belong with us. The sealing inadvertently kept Tsuna from being spirited away, so they relaxed a bit.

Then Reborn came and unsealed his fire, and to centuries old foxes a few years isn’t that long at all. Reborn is wondering what’s with all these foxes popping up in odd places. Nana’s reaction when she finds out, well, it’s always the nice ones.  

- OpalIstas


The kitsune come when Tsuna is little more than a toddler, playing around outside in the sunny weather. He’s smiling and clapping as he runs about and Nana watches him beneath her sunhat while she gardens with a fond smile. Occasionally his bouncy ball (a last-minute gift from Papa) will roll her way, and she’ll have to put down her trowel and bounce it back, but she doesn’t mind.

The real trouble starts when the next door neighbor’s dog, a tiny little terror that he’s named Akane, gets loose and rushes over, slipping through the fence and rushing up to Tsuna to bark at him. She doesn’t try to play with him, just bark. Nana hears the sound of her collar tags striking each other and turns just in time to see the little dog get through her fence, run up to a terrified Tsuna, who has stopped and is backing up, and begins to bark.

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Kugelhandgranate M1913/15 Poppenberg system

Manufactured by Germany c.1915-1918 using surplus Khg M1913 fragmentation grenades.
45g explosive charge, percussive system armed by removing the pin and lifting the spoon lever on the handle, after which a sharp shock and gravity would detonate the device.

That’s what happens when you Voltron the early German ball grenade with their later 1915 stick technology. They had realized earlier with the regular M1915 percussive layout - one with a regular cylindrical head like other Stielhandgranate - you better had the heaviest head possible to make sure it landed right on its face.

Plus they were bored and they had plenty to fuck around with.

Starling: Chapter Twenty-Nine

«First Next>

Kenna pulled over on the shoulder somewhere more dust than sidewalk. She killed the ignition and half-leaned, half-crawled into the back seat to stare at Roy’s screen. Elliott and Alex had both abandoned their sulks to look too, which totaled three enormous people craning into his space, reading and rereading Laura’s message over his shoulder.

“What does that mean, rescue will be complete by dawn?” said Kenna, jabbing a claw at the phrase in question.

“Before sunrise,” Roy rephrased, unsure if that was what she was really asking, but unable to understand anything more complex about it himself. His voice sounded flat and distant even to him.

“Did something happen?” demanded Elliott.

Kenna withdrew to the front to fiddle with her own comp for a moment. "Nothing in the news,” she reported.

Roy sank slowly in his seat and let the conversation flow over his head.

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Not Afraid of the Night { JuminxMC- Soulmate!AU }

Heya howdy doodle doo! I hope this is a-okay for y’all ^^

WORDS: 2,202 

Again, like JIHYUN’S, no keep reading because the format tends to mess up for mobile?

           "Assistant Kang, please book another appointment with my hair dresser,“ Jumin sighed into his intercom. He just had an appointment the other day, what is wrong with this person?

           A person’s soulmate shares their hair colour when dye is used. Some soulmates just dye their hair a normal colour for a change, not much of a difference between the two of them, it works out. Perhaps that was the reason most people didn’t meet the right one? Everyone was too alike in that way. Jumin would be fine with a nice, simple, normal hair colour if his soulmate were to choose it.

           Do they?

           The answer is no.

           He’s constantly having to re-dye his hair to black to cover what his other half does to their hair. It’s always a bright, crazy colour. He cannot tell you how many times he’s had to dismiss meetings abruptly because his dark hair changed to a hot pink before everyone’s eyes. How was he supposed to run his company when his clients cannot take him seriously with bright coloured hair? He can’t. It’s impossible for them to pay attention and for him to get anything done. Perhaps he should invest in hats instead? Oh, but wearing hats inside is disrespectful, hmm.

           He finds himself staring into the refection of his wine glass, his once dark hair now bright dyed green. The other day, it was a bright yellow, Yoosung told him he was jealous of the shade. The week before it was a bright white, which Zen was not happy about.

           "Are you trying to rival my beauty? It won’t happen! A robotic CEO? As handsome as me? Not possible!” he had said in the chatroom, hogging the space, leaving no room for Jumin to reply how he dislikes it in the first place. What was going through this persons head? He’d like to analyze just what made them want to do such a ridiculous thing, so often. Don’t they realize it can be really bad for their hair? Not to mention the fumes that must come off of the dyes…

           His day progressed- not falling short with the hushed whispers and secret glances as his new-found neon hair. No one dared to say anything loud enough for him to hear, and most certainly no one dared to confront him about it. The only person to have spoken a word was Assistant Kang, who simply called it “interesting” and went back to her work. Was it truly interesting? Maybe he just wasn’t seeing what you were seeing in it?

           Meetings came and went, the day moved on to the next. He had dyed his hair back to black, thankfully, and was able to get some work done- no thanks to you. A week or so later, you had dyed your hair again, at least this time it was a nice darker auburn that didn’t look too terribly bad on him. It was more natural, he could work with it. Then, it had stopped for a good few months. No weird colours, no colour change at all, in honesty. He took notice to his roots growing out, the dyed colour slowly fading back to his black.

           Perhaps you had given up? Maybe you  just no longer enjoyed the colours? Were you finally taking a break to take care of your hair? The more he thought about it, the more distracted he was from his work. Were you okay? Had something happened to you? Were you… still with him in this world? He hasn’t been able to meet you, you couldn’t leave him just yet..

           If you had asked the CEO in line a year or two ago if soulmates had existed, he would have genuinely laughed in your face. Jihyun had tried telling him that there was someone out there for him, specifically. He wasn’t one to partake in expressing emotions in the first place- they took too much effort and he didn’t see the point.

           He had spent so much time hating the idea of a spouse after seeing how quickly his father cycled through… success-driven women, putting it nicely. Not-so-nicely, he was horrified by all of the gold diggers constantly trying to get close to him. He didn’t see the point in having relationships if people only wanted him for his money.

           Not only does that fear stop him, but he’s been… struggling with another sort of emotion. His infatuation with Rika left him questioning himself. She was the one person he had felt feelings for, and she was with his best friend. She.. was never meant to be his. What if it ended up being the same for the two of you? What if he were to meet you, and it turns out you were someone else’s? Or, even as soulmates, the two of you just.. didn’t work out? What if his work got in the way? What if you were never meant to be his as well?

           The nights that he couldn’t sleep were full of thoughts like these. Not even Elizabeth the Third could deter his worries. Hell, he could have passed you in a building and never have known. What if you had done business with him? What if you actually worked for him? No, you couldn’t work for him, no one with insanely bright hair like that would work for him. He decided it was time to just focus on his work. He did have a few new potential clients to meet over the course of the next month. Thoughts like these were going to have to wait. He’d have to put them under lock and key.

           Though the next week, he started to notice piece by piece, that you must have been dying the tips of your hair multiple colours again. He actually felt a sense of relief, to see that you’re okay- that you’re still here in this world with him. Until one day, he had woken up to find his whole head, covered in a bright rainbow. He tried to refuse coming into work, though it was the day the company’s important meeting was being held, so Assistant Kang practically begged that he reconsider that option. He also didn’t have time to invite his hair stylist in to fix his situation. It was time to just… accept it, and do what he had to do.

With a bout of false confidence, he took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the meeting, bracing himself for the stares and ridiculing remarks. Beyond the door, however, it took one look for his heart to completely stop, his feet stopping in their tracks as well.

Sitting at the table across from him was a person with bright, rainbow coloured hair.

The moment the two of you met gazes, Jumin could feel a sharp shock through his chest.

Jaehee had to usher him into the room and practically lead the meeting, because he couldn’t help but keep glancing over to you, and he’d get tongue tied every time. He was trying his best to keep his emotions under lock, as per usual, but he couldn’t help it. He sat across from you- he got a chance to study your features. Your soft expression, the way your eyes shine with untapped creativity- always analyzing, searching for the beauty in things. You didn’t need to speak for him to realize how much you appreciated the expressions and emotions in everything around you, he could tell it all from your hair choices over the years. He couldn’t wait to talk to you- would he even be able to? Or would he miss his chance and watch you slip between his fingers? Would he fumble on his words- would it be apparent that he had no prior experience with emotions like this? Before he could snap out of it, the meeting had been wrapped up and you were walking out of the door. Catching a glimpse of the disappointment on your face, he struggled to push himself out of the chair he was in- his pocket getting caught on the arm of the chair as he stumbled, attempting to catch himself. Instead, he knocked his neighbors cup over, getting coffee on himself and dropped it a few more times while he tried to pick it up. His heart was racing, pounding in his ears; The sound being replaced by the soft sound of your giggle.

Embarrassed, he raised his eyes to meet yours, too enchanted by the dust of red that graced your cheeks as you hid the dazzling smile behind your hand, extending the other as an offer to help the bumbling idiot in front of you. He felt his heart beat right out of his chest when his fingertips touched the palm of your hand. He couldn’t wait to hear what your first words to him would be. He’d secretly been waiting for quite some time to hear what his soulmate’s first words will be.

“You’re the asshole who keeps dyeing my hair black! And you’re a bumbling buffoon, too!”

He wasn’t expecting that.

But damn, if you didn’t say it with the utmost graceful movements of your lips.

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, to explain that he never acted this way, that he was truly more composed with less of… this. But he couldn’t find the words- he couldn’t do anything but open and close his mouth like fish- he truly was a buffoon, wasn’t he.

Looking down at his shoes, he started to feel tears well up into his eyes. Was he really about to cry? He couldn’t even talk to you- couldn’t tell you how much just the thought of you changed his world, how much he craved the relationship his best friend had with his own fiancé, how afraid he was to lose you before he could even meet you, how much he want to-

No. He couldn’t do this. He had to say something- anything to make you stay. He shut his eyes and held them closed- he was always sharp, quick witted, but why couldn’t he talk to you? He talks to owners of large companies constantly, but one person? Just this one person, he couldn’t?

How pathetic could he really be? The one time he needed to be his strongest, he completely folded like a house of cards.

For years, he had been watching from behind as his best friend move ahead with his life, going to bed each night with the person made just for him in his arms. Jihyun was always so happy- talking about his ‘sun’- finding the beauty in everything that Rika had done. Where was that for him? He was left in the dark- fighting to reach the light that seemed so far away from him.

His father, constantly bringing him new women to meet- women who wanted one thing. Women always hanging off of him, touching him, hoping to get from him what they get from his father. He didn’t want any of that, it wasn’t what he wanted- not what he need. He needed someone who could understand him, someone who wouldn’t want just his money or his fame. Someone who wanted him for all that he is- even if it wasn’t close to perfect. Someone who wasn’t dark in nature like they were. He wanted to get out of this night that held no stars.

All of these thoughts swarmed around in his head. He tried so hard to keep up the ruse that he was nothing but an emotionless robot; If he thought that way, then he could protect himself. But now, with the thought of you completely turning and leaving this room- leaving him behind yet again- he couldn’t protect himself anymore. He was broken, and he was afraid.

It felt like hours later, yet his eyes flew open when fingertips gently touched his cheek, prompting him to look up at the alluring artwork in front of him. The light smile that enhanced your beauty tenfold was enough to make his face hot and his mind go completely blank.

“Hey,” you said, in almost a whisper, dragging your thumb across his cheek as if it were fragile- like he would break at any moment. “My name’s MC. It’s nice to meet you- please don’t cry. I’ve been looking for you for a very long time. Would you want to go settle on a calmer hair colour together?”

And for once, in years, he didn’t mind the vivid colours that sat upon his head.

Sure, he was left in the dark.

But with him now were his own set of Northern Lights.

Someone so bright, vivid, colourful, yet so soft to help guide him home. To help him realize what home could really be. Something never ending- something that the two of you could start in the middle and would still find beautiful and inviting. Something unique to the both of you, something he desperately wanted to grasp and hold as if he was afraid to break it. He wanted to get to know you, piece by piece, colour by colour.

And he wasn’t as afraid of the night anymore.


4. “I just had to see you.”

A/N: Hiya. Sorry I’ve had super bad writers block lately, and it’s kinda late, but i was supposed to go out with my roommate tonight and well she fell asleep so here I am writing instead. Apologies for any typos, I’m exhausted and finals killed me. Again: all my ish is tagged under “ficshit” 

Here’s the list
1. Oh my God, you’re in love with her
2. You’re too good for this world
3. It’s about damn time

Chloe had gotten an internship. Chloe was leaving. Chloe was leaving Beca for six months and there was nothing she could do to stop her. Chloe was LEAVING FOR SIX MONTHS and Beca hadn’t told her how much she loved her, let alone at all.

It’s not like she didn’t try to tell her. She did the cliche flowers randomly sent to her last class of the day and the buying of the coffee and literally everything she’d learned from all the movies the girls forced her to watch and yet, nothing.

“Amy, I can’t just go tell her! She’s leaving! She won’t leave if I tell her and I can’t do that to her. She’s worked too hard to get where she’s going, I’m not gonna be that girl.” Beca practically screamed to Amy over the phone. She was driving home from her own internship and Amy had called her because she saw that Chloe was almost done packing up her things. 

“Beca, come on! She won’t. She probably already knows.”

“I’m not willing to take that risk, I can’t lose her entirely. It’s only six months, I’ll make it work.” she sighed and rubbed her hand over her face. Six months. Six months of no Chloe, of no late night cuddles where Beca pretends she hates when Chloe does that thing with the little curls on the back of her neck, and no Chloe telling her how much she loves her - even if it’s just platonically.

“Well, you’re the one driving her to the airport tonight - so just get home, ya?”

“I’ll be there in five.” she hung up.

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