sharp shock


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.

👏 to👏 sit👏 in👏 solemn👏 silence👏 in👏 a👏 dull👏 dark👏 dock👏 in👏 a👏 pestilential👏 prison👏 with👏 a👏 lifelong👏 lock👏 awaiting👏 the👏 sensation👏 of👏 a👏 short👏 sharp👏 shock👏 from👏 a👏 cheap👏 and👏 chippy👏 chopper👏 on👏 a👏 big👏 black👏 block👏

anonymous asked:

What would UF papyrus and US sans reaction be to them saying something really mean or hurtful to their S/O out of anger and their S/O shuts them self in their room crying.

Underfell Papyrus

You stir the jasmine tea in the mug absent-mindedly while reading your book, absorbed within the author’s melodious words. Taking a sip, you make sure the tea is the right flavor, then decide to add in a scoop of sugar. Satisfied, you pick up your mug, your eyes still trained on your novel and make your way toward the couch, but suddenly, you slam into a large force, spilling your hot tea on yourself and the tall skeleton. You yelp and flinch back from the tea scorching your skin while Fell angrily screeched in shock, his sharp teeth clenching in fury. 

“MY BATTLE BODY! I JUST WASHED THIS!” Fell’s voice booms in anger. 

“Papy, I’m so sorry!” you grab a towel and before you could help him wipe off the accident, he snatches it away from you. 

“COULD YOU BE EVEN MORE USELESS?!” the words fly out of this mouth before he could even stop them. 

Your blood runs cold and your body freezes, your mind unable to accept his harsh words, “W-What?”


Shit. That was harsh, even for him. Fell knows that. He knows that it was an accident. But why did he say that? Why can’t he apologize? Why does he keep going? 

“I-I’m sorry,” is all that you could say before you turn away and rush to your room, closing the door behind you. 

Grabbing the nearest pillow, you scream, your heart shattering in two. 

Meanwhile, Fell stands outside your door, his fist raised, prepared to knock as he hears your cries from inside. Sighing, the monster lowers his hand and crosses his arms. It’s better to just leave you alone for now. But guilt consumes him as the image of you heartbroken expression burns in his mind. Unable to stand around and do nothing, Fell goes into town.  

An hour later, you calm yourself down, reducing to only a few sniffles here and there, but your chest still aches. Looking at the time, you notice that it’s only 7 pm, but you decide to just go to bed anyway, just to get this day over with. Crawling out of bed, you change into your pajamas and hear a sudden knock on the door. 

Not wanting to see the skeleton, you yell, “Go away, asshole,”

You expect some kind of response from your boyfriend, especially if you just insulted him like that, but none came, peaking your curiosity. Waiting a few moments, you make sure that he’s actually gone before you open your door. When you do, you find a gift basket stuffed with two bottles of fancy wine, a small white teddy bear, and two heart shaped chocolate boxes, all wrapped together with a cute bow. You pick it up and bring it inside, placing it on your desk, expecting some kind of note of apology. You find none. You scoff at the gift, but can’t bring yourself to toss it in the trash. Does he really expect that he can win your forgiveness with this? Yeah fucking right. Setting out what you originally intended to do, you take a shower and brush your teeth, falling asleep on your cold bed half an hour later. 

You wake up groggily the next day, rubbing your temples with your fingers as you remember what happened the day before. Great. Maybe you should take a page out of Red’s book and just stay in all day. You do not want to see your boyfriend today. After going through your morning routine, you make your way downstairs, following the surprisingly delicious smell of pancakes and syrup. 

Fell silently flips the pancakes in the kitchen, noticing your arrival. You take a seat, confused, but wary. The skeleton sighs and swallows his pride, bringing a large stack of pancakes to you. 

“I MADE THESE FOR YOU,” Fell sets them down, kisses your head, and massages your shoulders. 

He doesn’t even bring up what happened yesterday. You look at the set up around you, the warm breakfast, with a glass of milk and a single rose in a vase, you realize that this is his way of apologizing. You heart repairs itself, glowing in forgiveness, but that doesn’t mean you’re not going to take advantage of this. You wonder what it’s like to have the Great and Terrible Papyrus as your servant for the day.  

UnderSwap Sans

“YOU’RE NOT GOING TO COME TRAIN WITH ME AGAIN?!” Blueberry cries, his face turning bright blue as he clenches his fist. 

“I’m sorry, Blue, but I’m not up for it today. I’m not like you were I can do rigorous exercise everyday,” you stretch your sore arms. 


You frown in guilt. Last night you promised you would train with him today, only because he kept insisting and bugging you until you gave in. It might be childish to not keep up your promise, but you don’t know if your body can handle it. 

“I’m sorry,” 

Blue rarely gets mad, but seeing how you rather spend your being lazy than spend time with him, he lost control of himself, “I HATE YOU!” 

You flinch back away from him, never seeing him this angry before, especially directed toward you. His words hits you with full force and before you know it, your tears stream down your face and you’re slamming your bedroom door behind you. 

Realizing what he just did, Blue runs after you, calling your name over and over, knocking on your door. 


Crying into your pillow, you shake your head, refusing to let him in. Eventually, your emotions drain you, and you fall asleep with Blue calling your name over and over again. You wake up two hours later in your dark and quiet room, your cheeks dry from your tears. Sighing, you heave yourself out of bed. You’re still exhausted, but anymore sleep would just ruin your sleep schedule. Thinking about what Blue said to you, you know that you overreacted, but the words still stung. He was upset and wasn’t thinking, which isn’t like him, but you realize that his training sessions weren’t just about making him stronger, but a way to spend time with you. feel like the scum of the earth. 

With your stomach rumbling, you remember the leftover tacos from the day before are still in the fridge. You open your door and find Blueberry still waiting for you outside, but in a nice suit and holding a bouquet of flowers, his eyes lighting up when he sees you. 


“That’s a little…creepy isn’t it?” you can’t help but giggle, even if you are mad at him. 

“AHH I’M SORRY! I WON’T DO IT AGAIN!” the skeleton apologizes profusely, but then his expression darkens, “But I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.” 

Blue doesn’t meet your eyes, but his usual, cheery self remains hidden in the darkness. You can’t stand to see your boyfriend like this. Leaping into his arms, you instantly forgive him, while he cries about how sorry he is. 


“I’d love that,” you smile, and wrap him up in a kiss.

You are definitely looking forward to tomorrow. 


So after a feedback session with my dear Violette-Aner, I cooked up this other version (first image is the new image) of the certificate for @tmntfanficcomp in the category of horror. 

The colors are adjusted and less green, the cloudy things are less sharp and I added shock waves that are more representative of April’s psychic powers.

: D Thoughts? Which do you like best for the certificate?

lutavero  asked:

Do you still take prompts? If yes, then maybe this one from the protective sentence starter:“I’m not apologizing for what I said to that asshole/jerk… He/she was saying terrible things about you.” And maybe Ollie saying it to Barry? :)

Protective sentence starters “Im not apologizing for what I said to that asshole/jerk… He/she was saying terrible things about you”

Prompt also requested by: @guja97

“I’m not apologizing for what I said to that asshole.” Oliver said with an obvious irritation, narrowing his eyes at Barry, who was fuming in his own rights. Barry remains standing as Oliver flops down onto one of the multiple couches littering the living room. “She was saying terrible things about you” Oliver completed the statement, the smallest bit of a smug look on his face as the speedster’s death glare intensified, sending a sharp shock down the archer’s spine. If there was one thing he feared in the world, it was Barry Allen’s rage.  

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Fairy Tail AU’s >> Soul Eater (Pt 4)

“A sound soul dwells within a sound mind, and a sound body.”

Name: Mirajane Strauss
Classification: Demon Weapon
Rank:  ☆ ☆
Class: E.A.T.
Partner: Laxus Dreyar
Background: Mirajane was born the only weapon in her family, her siblings Elfman and Lisanna not inheriting the gene. However, they also attend the DWMA as meisters. Mira has the ability to transform into a lightning spear, sharp and shocking, making her the perfect weapon for Laxus. 

Name: Laxus Dreyar
Classification: Meister
Rank:  ☆ ☆
Class: E.A.T.
Partner: Mirajane Strauss
Background: Laxus is the grandson of Makarov, head of the DWMA, and is on a quick path to becoming a three star ranked meister and teacher at the academy.

This Darkling had been commanding the Grisha since before I was born, but the man seated above me on the dais didn’t look much older than I did. He had a sharp, beautiful face, a shock of thick black hair, and clear grey eyes that glimmered like quartz. I knew that the more powerful Grisha were said to live long lives, and Darklings were the most powerful of them all. He’s not natural. None of them are.

The Ways We Fall Asleep Pt. 4 [Cullen x Trevelyan]

Should be pretty obvious what this takes place after, but its not smutty or anything so all good.

One again, if you enjoyed this series, show some love to xenadd for enabling the idea :b

Here we go…

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six

AO3 Link

Every muscle sang

Every nerve in his body tingled and trembled as he leaned over her, cushioned between her legs, supporting his weight on his arms either side of her head.

Her lips on his, leaving gentle, affectionate kisses.

Soft tickles of her mouth on his scar distracted him from the sharp, excited shocks that raced down his spine, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

He breathed hard and fast, sucking in air whenever her lips left his able to feel her naked skin on his with each rise and fall.

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youre-brilliant  asked:

Have you seen the post where someone accidentally said "I love you" at the end of ordering a pizza and ended up dating them? (tumblr is not allowing me to add a link). Sounds like a Sterek AU to me...

oh my god this is precious

Stiles doesn’t know what just happened.

One moment he was taking a perfect order over the phone–True Pizza is slowly building a clientele in town, and it’s good, especially since people often return to them once they taste the delicious taste of a pizza actually cooked in a pizza oven, God bless Scott and his magical hands … wrong phrasing–, writing down the man’s requirements.

And the next …

“I love you.”

“Sorry what,” Stiles says, nearly dropping the phone in his shock.

A sharp intake of breath echoes in the receiver, and then the unmistakable sound of a curse being whispered, and then nothing.

The guy orders what constitutes a perfect pizza in Stiles’ mind–meat lover with extra peppers and extra tomato sauce, come on–, makes him a spontaneous love confession and hangs up on him?


No way.

Stiles presses the button to call back the last caller and waits, drumming his fingers on the countertop.

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Pink Floyd - “Us And Them" 

Us, and them
And after all were only ordinary men.
Me, and you.
God only knows it’s not what we would choose to do.
Forward he cried from the rear
And the front rank died.
And the general sat and the lines on the map
Moved from side to side.
Black and blue
And who knows which is which and who is who.
Up and down.
But in the end it’s only round and round.
Haven’t you heard it’s a battle of words
The poster bearer cried.
Listen son, said the man with the gun
There’s room for you inside.

I mean, they’re not gunna kill ya, so if you give em a quick short,
Sharp, shock, they wont do it again. dig it? I mean he get off
Lightly, cos I wouldve given him a thrashing - I only hit him once!
It was only a difference of opinion, but really…i mean good manners
Don’t cost nothing do they, eh?

Down and out
It can’t be helped but there’s a lot of it about.
With, without.
And wholl deny it’s what the fightings all about?
Out of the way, it’s a busy day
Ive got things on my mind.
For the want of the price of tea and a slice
The old man died.

A Different Kind of Workout

Imagine Dean getting jealous of you working out with Sam.

Author’s Note: Dean x reader with some Sam too! Reader and Dean are in a very teasing best friend relationship with some romantic tension. She teases Dean for not working out and he shows her that he’s just as “worked out” as Sam. It’s mostly fluffy fun with a little bit of sexy cuteness. Could be a much sexier sequel or epilogue but I have too many sequels to write at the moment haha. Warnings: intro talks about everyone being a little haggard from bad hunts, nothing else. 

My bare feet padded across the cold floor of the bunker, each step a sharp shock to my tired soles. It was strangely calm and quiet that morning. I breathed in deeply and stretched my arms upwards in an attempt to shake the sleep from my mind. There was no deep voiced conversation echoing through the halls to signal the presence of either Winchester, which I was slightly grateful for. The lack of noise meant the lack of a case, and we could all use a little down time. The last few rides in the Impala weren’t rowdy or music filled like usual; we might as well have been riding in a hearse. Sam’s exhausted eyes would be staring at the same map for what felt like hours, never shifting and barely blinking. I wondered if he was even truly awake half the time. And Dean, instead of busying himself with the radio, gripped the steering wheel with all the apprehension of a new driver. Both hands were white knuckled and tense after every hunt, just more evidence that the compounded stress was stretching us all to a new breaking point. The mark of Cain weighed heavy on all of our shoulders, not just on Dean’s forearm. Maybe today would be a chance for us all to decompress. 

I came to a stop in the kitchen and stood on my tip-toes to retrieve a glass from the lofty cabinet. I would blame the inconvenient height of everything on Sam and Dean being so tall, but apparently the men of letters were of the same stature when they designed the furnishings. Must run in the family. I was too busy contemplating the historic genetics of my hunting partners to notice approaching footsteps. 

“And where do you think you’re going dressed like that young lady?” At first I tensed, my hand still extended under the faucet. I wasn’t sure if it was the tired hoarseness of the voice behind me or the draft I felt on my exposed legs and arms that made me shiver. My jogging shorts and tank top were hardly enough material to make me presentable for the outside world, but I wasn’t about to let him tease me so easily. I shrugged and brought the glass to my lips to hide my smirk. 

“Oh you know, thought I’d head down to the roadhouse and talk smack with some hunting buddies.” I was still facing the sink, but I could almost feel Dean’s frown as my flippant statement met his ears. It was hard to suppress the enjoyment I got out of him steaming. He was always protective, in an older brother sort of way. I heard him clearing his throat and the rustle of fabric as he crossed his arms over his t-shirt covered chest. 

“Well, don’t be calling me for help when one of those brutes tosses you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You might as well have a sign on your chest that says…” I listened very loosely as he made several more references to the “neanderthals” that were male hunters. A few times he shamelessly complimented me, but it was well hidden under the guise of his parental lecture. After he seemed to have exhausted his rant I spun on my heel and mimicked his defensive stance. I lowered my brow like his, and pulled my lips together in the scowl he wore (although I was sure it looked so much better on his full lips). Once his hearty chuckle filled the air I dropped my charade and squared up to him. My chest was just a foot from his and our mouths still curved in mutual amusement. His natural reaction was to inch closer in a masculine show of just how much larger he was. His spine straightened and he puffed out his chest a little, the worn cotton of his shirt straining across the muscles there. It was unfortunate that he wasn’t a bit intimidated by me, but it did allow for some entertaining confrontation. 

“Dean Winchester, stop treating me like I’m your teenage little sister. I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.” I knocked back the remainder of my water in an exaggerated movement similar to how he downed his shots. 

“Especially from brutes…” I pushed the glass into his hand and leaned up on my toes, into his face boldly. He knew that some sharp comment was coming, but that didn’t stop him from flashing smile that was toothy with gritted aggravation. 

“Like you.” He scrunched his sun kissed nose and I barely side stepped the large fingers that rose to grab at my side. His growl followed me as I sauntered in the other direction. I spared no switch in my walk, my hips swaying with taunting confidence. 

“Careful Y/N, or I might be the one to swing you over my shoulder, just to teach you a lesson.” I stuck the headphones hanging from my pocket into my ears deftly and raised a lone finger to Dean, who’s laugh could still be heard over the loud music that began fill my world. 


I was still shaking my head at Dean when I entered the spare room that had been converted into the bunker’s makeshift gym. A large mirror, treadmill, weights, and a few larger prices of equipment that I didn’t dare use were all we really needed. In there, it was just me and my goals. Sweating was my retreat from all the terrible nightmares that kept me awake at night. Before hunting I had always been involved in sports, and I missed that part of my life. This little room was a tribute to that. Dean did the same with the garage and Sam with the library, some parts of each a near perfect replica of Bobby’s house. It was sadly humorous how we all built little unspoken shrines to our past. They were just desperate attempts to immortalize our happier memories alive in a life that sometimes allowed none. 

The bass-filled song I was listening to made me oblvious to Sam’s cheerful greeting, till our eyes met in the reflection of the wall mirror. He was doing pull ups like they were child’s play, a thin sheen of moisture on his skin the only proof that he was exerting any effort at all. I smiled warmly but didn’t bother to remove the earbuds I wore. We had worked out “together” plenty of times, and there was really no occasion for conversation. It would just be a mess of strained breathing and pauses anyway.

 I would be lying if I said I didn’t spend most of my run watching Sam in the mirror. The sheer size of the reflective surface allowed me to study him without being noticed, and I couldn’t keep myself from staring at the rippling in his biceps as he lifted the solid weight of his body. The powerful strain of his movements was mesmerizing. He shut his eyes tight and sucked in a deep, raspy breath. My own exerted panting seemed to match his as I watched him purse his lips and grunt through another set of lifts. I felt like I could run for miles as long as his gorgeous body was open to my gaze. 

Exercise was an outlet for Sam. More than once I had seen him head to the gym or out on a run after arguments with Dean or I got heated. Doing push-ups till his arms gave out was a peaceful way for him to exert all the anger he felt, and the time he spent in that room showed on his toned chest and back. He was built, or rather carved, of marble-like muscle. Suddenly a set eyes looked back into mine and I nearly lost my footing on the treadmill. Embarrassed, I caught myself and pretended to be preoccupied with whatever song was playing on my phone, but Sam was already smiling wide. I was cursing myself for staring when he dropped from the bar and walked to the bench nearby to grab his water bottle. He tipped back his drink casually while running hand through his messy hair. When he was turning to leave I sighed in relief, but there was no mistaking his smirking advice on the way out the door. 

“Watch your step there, Y/N. You seem a bit distracted.” The hot blush rising to my cheeks made my sweat seem suddenly much cooler. 


A half an hour later I was stretching out on the floor and very thankful for the airy shorts that let my aching legs breathe. My labored breathing allowed me to do little more than stare up at to ceiling. In my peripheral I saw movement that must have been Sam. 

“Back for more already?” There was no response to my question, so I assumed he was wearing headphones. “You must be a glutton for punishment.” I gathered what little energy I had to roll on to my side, but the tall figure looming over me wasn’t Sam. I narrowed my eyes at the oil stained jeans meandering around the room. 

“Glutton for punishment? That’s not really my kink, but I’m always up for trying new things.” Dean’s face crinkled in a wink as he circled around me to scoop up the glass of water by my side. “So this is what you do in here, huh? Lie on the floor with each other?” I groaned my annoyance, but I was too sore to bother slapping his hand away. He emptied the glass in one breathless chug and I watched a drop of water trace down his chin as he swallowed hungrily. His own skin, although filthy with dirt and motor oil, was just as sweaty as mine or Sam’s. He was probably working in the stuffy heat of the garage for the better part of the morning. 

“Pampering Baby?” He nodded and drug the back of his hand over his wet lips. The motion created a streak of clean skin that stood out against the rest of his cheek. His breathless smile looked exhausted, but pleased. 

“That’s my kind of workout out.” I scoffed and shoved my hand upwards expectantly. He met it without hesitation and pulled me from my sitting position, the strength in his fingers tight around mine. 

That’s not really a workout.” I mumbled as I sprang to my feet. I steadied myself once standing, but his grip didn’t stop pulling me. “Dean!” I giggled in surprise as he quickly drew me closer by my hand. We barely avoided colliding noses and I thudded into his chest. 

“Did you really just say that?” His voice was that same teasing seriousness that we shared earlier. I blindly grabbed at his arm to push away. In the process of extricating myself from his playful grasp my fingers gripped his large bicep. As if to affirm his words, his muscles tensed roughly under my touch. 

“You think I’m any less ‘worked out’ than you or Sam?” He leaned nearer to my face in challenge, his chin tilting to better examine me. I could feel his shallow breathing on my still damp skin. It’s unlikely the shiver that snaked its way over my skin went unnoticed by his prying eyes. 

Some part of me begged to push him further, just to see where the risky path would lead. After all, Dean and I had a different relationship than Sam and I. I could tease Dean with confidence that came from unadulterated comradery. I licked my lips to prepare them for the coming insult, and he watched in knowing anticipation. 

“What, do you break a sweat eating all those pies?” I spoke slow enough for him to taste every pointed syllable. At first his eyes widened and his brow heightened. There was a mixture of shock and admiration in the open mouthed stare he gave. Then he tightened the aggressive hold on my fingers that resembled two arm wrestlers caught in matched strength. Despite my banter about his eating habits, I knew Dean was built of experience and hard work. His sort of muscle was practical and well used, even if stranger to a gym. Being faced with flaring nostrils and misty eyes made my heart race. He was unnervingly unpredictable in the almost predatory way he sized me up.  

“Oh that’s it! I warned you earlier…” Without any warning Dean dropped my hand and grabbed my waist with two large palms. He was biting his lip playfully when his fingers dug into my hips and lifted me up off the ground. My automatic reaction was a childlike squeal laced with terrified laughter, but there was no fighting his advances. Without a second thought he hoisted me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing. I beat against his back frantically. 

“Dean!!” I could feel the rumbling chuckle shaking his chest as he began to carry me out of the room. My hair swayed back and forth around my head as he hooked strong arms over the back of my knees to keep me hopelessly suspended.  “What are you doing?!”

It was times like these that I wasn’t really sure what Dean and I were anymore. His fake show of savagery only added to my confusion. Sometimes he was like my annoying brother, and other times he seemed to be just daring me to step over that blurred line of friendship into something more. Sometimes he made my sides hurt with laughter, and others he made my heart race with passionate curiosity. 

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m teaching you a lesson…

and getting my workout at the same time." 


Later that night Sam passed me in the hallway and cocked his head in confusion. He paused to stare and ease his mouth open hesitantly. Still giddy from my playful encounter with Dean, I placed my hands on my hips. My entire mood was altered. "Yeah, yeah. More teasing about the treadmill thing. I’m a clutz, I know.” It occurred to me after I spoke that I sounded like I was still talking to Dean. Sam choked on a surprised laugh and shook his head slowly, eyes still locked on my midsection. 

“That’s not what I was going to mention…” I furrowed my brow and followed his gaze downwards. The subsequent embarrassment was far worse than my incident in the gym. Two giant hand prints were splayed across the hem of my white tank top, the wrinkles of each finger made clear by the dark stain of motor oil and grease.

“Oh! Uh… Dean and I worked out together!” I scrambled to cover my waist but the affected surface area was larger than my smaller hands. Sam chewed at his knuckle in a failed attempt to remain straight-faced.

“Dean, working out? Really?” The disbelief in his voice was excruciating, and he didn’t seem terribly interested in relieving my discomfort. Sam saw my messy hair and red cheeks with entirely different meaning. “So you two were, you know… doing Dean’s kind of working out?”

“Yes! Wait you mean- No! Of course not!” I folded my arms and huffed indignantly at his implication. “We aren’t like that.” The younger Winchester nodded but it was clear he wasn’t a bit convinced by my explanation. 

Sure… Look, I don’t judge. Whatever you two are, he’s left his mark. And even I know better than to mess with that.” Sam gave me a tongue in cheek grin and continued in the other direction without another word. I stayed standing in that spot for some time, considering his cryptic statement. It would be weeks before I would truly understand what it all meant. 

Dean wasn’t worried about other hunters seeing me in my workout clothes, he was worried about other Winchesters. 

And a few well-placed hand prints solved that problem. 

One Foot In Front Of The Other

Rating: G
Word Count: 1,500
Warnings: None

Summary: “‘Starting at a new college is scary, man. We all get that.’”
6x11 reaction. In which Blaine’s first day at NYU isn’t too great, until Elliott shows up. Near future fic; technically canon compliant.


On his first day at NYU, Blaine’s hands shake so bad that he drops his phone on the concrete and cracks the screen right down the middle.

Obviously, it’s an omen for how the rest of the day will roll out.

When Blaine began teaching at Dalton, it had felt incredibly foreign to once again be surrounded by adolescent boys who didn’t know what to do with their hormones. And apparently it doesn’t matter which generation in question, because the New Directions will always be a sharp shock to the senses. But he got used to them soon enough, adjusted to the hyperactive pacing of show choir competition – and now that’s gone again and he’s back surrounded by academia. The changes have been so fast, so sudden, and once again Blaine feels just that little bit off centre, like the floor underneath him is uneven and rolling and doing everything it can to topple him over.

But he’s not going to fall this time.

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High Hopes [Chapter 2]

A/N: Hey guys I hope you’re enjoying our little story baby so far and that you guys are having a good day! Olivia is such a magical being and it’s truly an honor to be her friend and to write this magical story with her! 

Prologue. Chapter 1


She doesn’t notice how much she’s changed until Sarah walks in on her changing in her room one day.

The gasp that escapes from Sarah’s lips are shocked and sharp, catching Hannah off-guard just as she was about to pull the soft fabric of her worn Dublin shirt over her head. It wasn’t a gasp that usually accompanied loud birthday surprises or appall that something wonderful just happened. It’s not a gasp of happiness or disbelief at good luck. It was the type of gasp that made your blood freeze in your veins and immediately alert you to avert your gaze at the sheer terror that grips you.

The gasp sounded almost horrified.

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