someone's wary


I still can’t believe that these two dorks imported from Transformers Prime are the 2nd pair of canon robots husbands in the IDW comics. They aren’t just window dressing either! There’s a story behind the vain, high speed racer that married a guy who is considered inferior by his whole culture. I want to see it play out so badly!

Knockout and Breakdown are precious and deserve all the love. 

What if, when Petunia Dursley found a little boy on her front doorstep, she took him in? Not into the cupboard under the stairs, not into a twisted childhood of tarnished worth and neglect–what if she took him in?

Petunia was jealous, selfish and vicious. We will not pretend she wasn’t. She looked at that boy on her doorstep and thought about her Dudders, barely a month older than this boy. She looked at his eyes and her stomach turned over and over. (Severus Snape saved Harry’s life for his eyes. Let’s have Petunia save it despite them).

Let’s tell a story where Petunia Dursley found a baby boy on her doorstep and hated his eyes–she hated them. She took him in and fed him and changed him and got him his shots, and she hated his eyes up until the day she looked at the boy and saw her nephew, not her sister’s shadow. When Harry was two and Vernon Dursley bought Dudley a toy car and Harry a fast food meal with a toy with parts he could choke on Petunia packed her things and got a divorce.

Harry grew up small and skinny, with knobbly knees and the unruly hair he got from his father. He got cornered behind the dumpsters and in the restrooms, got blood on the jumpers Petunia had found, half-price, at the hand-me-down store. He was still chosen last for sports. But Dudley got blood on his sweaters, too, the ones Petunia had found at the hand-me-down store, half price, because that was all a single mother working two secretary jobs could afford for her two boys, even with Vernon’s grudging child support.

They beat Harry for being small and they laughed at Dudley for being big, and slow, and dumb. Students jeered at him and teachers called Dudley out in class, smirked over his backwards letters.

Harry helped him with his homework, snapped out razored wit in classrooms when bullies decided to make Dudley the butt of anything; Harry cornered Dudley in their tiny cramped kitchen and called him smart, and clever, and ‘better ‘n all those jerks anyway’ on the days Dudley believed it least.

Dudley walked Harry to school and back, to his advanced classes and past the dumpsters, and grinned, big and slow and not dumb at all, at anyone who tried to mess with them.

But was that how Petunia got the news? Her husband complained about owls and staring cats all day long and in the morning Petunia found a little tyke on her doorsep. This was how the wizarding world chose to give the awful news to Lily Potter’s big sister: a letter, tucked in beside a baby boy with her sister’s eyes.

There were no Potters left. Petunia was the one who had to arrange the funeral. She had them both buried in Godric’s Hollow. Lily had chosen her world and Petunia wouldn’t steal her from it, not even in death. The wizarding world had gotten her sister killed; they could stand in that cold little wizard town and mourn by the old stone.

(Petunia would curl up with a big mug of hot tea and a little bit of vodka, when her boys were safely asleep, and toast her sister’s vanished ghost. Her nephew called her ‘Tune’ not 'Tuney,’ and it only broke her heart some days.

Before Harry was even three, she would look at his green eyes tracking a flight of geese or blinking mischieviously back at her and she would not think 'you have your mother’s eyes.’

A wise old man had left a little boy on her doorstep with her sister’s eyes. Petunia raised a young man who had eyes of his very own).

Petunia snapped and burnt the eggs at breakfast. She worked too hard and knew all the neighbors’ worst secrets. Her bedtime stories didn’t quite teach the morals growing boys ought to learn: be suspicious, be wary; someone is probably out to get you. You owe no one your kindness. Knowledge is power and let no one know you have it. If you get can get away with it, then the rule is probably meant for breaking.

Harry grew up loved. Petunia still ran when the letters came. This was her nephew, and this world, this letter, these eyes, had killed her sister. When Hagrid came and knocked down the door of some poor roadside motel, Petunia stood in front of both her boys, shaking. When Hagrid offered Harry a squashed birthday cake with big, kind, clumsy hands, he reminded Harry more than anything of his cousin.

His aunt was still shaking but Harry, eleven years and eight minutes old, decided that any world that had people like his big cousin in it couldn’t be all bad. “I want to go,” Harry told his aunt and he promised to come home.

Keep reading

1. The phony iCloud breach

The scam: Scammers reach people by phone, saying their data was hacked or breached through iCloud, Apple’s online data storage service. The scam is so effective because it sounds plausible, what with all the reports of data breaches, Business Insider notes. The initial call is a robocall, which offers to connect the prospective victim to a live person who can “help.” The individual on the phone says they can fix the problem if provided personal information (which could possibly include your Apple ID password, credit card information). The scammers will use flattery and may even an offer of a free iTunes gift card to poach your information, Apple says.

What you should do: Never share your Apple ID or temporary verification codes with anyone, Apple advises. And using two-factor identification will add an extra layer of protection to your account. If you receive an unsolicited call, hang up immediately and contact Apple directly.

2. The shady taxi lost-and-found service

The scam: You are in a hurry and forget your bag or phone in the cab. What do you do? Use a helpful service, like, to locate your missing item. Sounds legit, considering it has all the vital keywords like NYC and yellow cab, right? Unfortunately, this “service” offers to locate your lost item for $47, which of course goes directly into the scammer’s pocket and your item is seemingly never retrieved, the New York Post reported.

What you should do: If you lose something in a cab, call the cab company’s garage directly first, according to the City of New York government website. If you don’t recall the name of the cab company, you can complete this form. Additionally, you can call the lost property police precincts in each borough to see if your lost item was recovered. Not in New York City? You can still apply this advice no matter where you are, just by starting with the cab company’s office.

3. Airline ticket giveaway

The scam: If you put off booking that airline ticket for summer until now, you are probably thirsting for a last-minute deal. Then you happen to see an email or post on Facebook or Craigslist offering one. All you need to do is wire cash for the ticket to a Western Union account and you are given the ticket confirmation number. Unfortunately when it’s time to travel, you find out the “ticket” you purchased doesn’t exist.

Scammers steal credit card information and purchase airline tickets, Scam Detector says. They cancel the trip for credit but retain the ticket’s confirmation number. Then they sell the ticket at a “discounted” rate on a site like Craigslist, Kijiji, Oodle or Gumtree and make the sale look legit because they provide the confirmation number.

What you should do: If you purchase an airline ticket online, make sure you go directly through the airline site or a reputable site like Expedia or Kayak. While some deals may be tempting, they are most likely too good to be true. If you purchase a fraudulent ticket, share what happened to you on social media and contact the Federal Trade Commission.

4. The bogus government grant

The scam: Score! You receive a phone call that you’ve been awarded a healthy government grant because you paid your taxes on time. All you need to do is provide your checking account information so the money can be automatically transferred to your account, but also to cover a one-time processing fee. The caller may say they are from the “Federal Grants Administration” so the call sounds legitimate, but the scam is to obtain access to your bank account.

The hallmark of this scam is that scammers usually read from a script, congratulating you for your eligibility and confirming that your processing fee can be refunded if you aren’t completely satisfied, according to the FTC. Also, the phone number will not have a caller ID, although the call may appear to be coming from Washington, D.C. Additionally, know you’ll never have to pay money for a “free” government grant.

What you should do: Hang up and report the call to the Federal Trade Commission.

5. The imaginary vacation rental

The scam: The vacation rental house looks perfect online and the price is right — but is it? Fake vacation rentals and time-share offers account for about 8% of reports to the Better Business Bureau scam tracker in 2017. Scammers may hijack an actual vacation rental ad, posing as the agent to grab your money for the rental or will fabricate a fake ad, designing a property that doesn’t even exist, the FTC says.

What you should do: Before you pay for a vacation rental, be wary of someone asking you to wire the cash to them, the FTC advises. Also, anyone who cannot connect personally because they are out of the country or demands the security deposit up front should be a red flag. Also, if the listing seems too good to be true, it probably is, the BBB says.

6. The tax bill you don’t actually owe

The scam: About 5% of the scams reported to the BBB are criminals posing as IRS agents, threatening criminal prosecution for being remiss on paying your taxes. The “agent” claims they can waive arrest if you pay a hefty fine through a prepaid debit card, gift card or wire transfer, the IRS says. The latest version of this scam includes the scammer telling the potential victim that two certified letters were mailed to the victim but were returned as being undeliverable.

What you should do: Know that the IRS will never ask for credit or debit information over the phone or demand immediate payment without the opportunity to appeal the amount, the IRS advises. Also, hang up the phone if you are contacted by someone posing as an IRS agent, the BBB says.

7. The jury duty scam

The scam: While missing your jury summons by mail could happen, you wouldn’t be harassed by someone on the phone if you do miss your notice. Scammers typically pose as a U.S. marshall or the local police, AARP says, claiming you may be arrested because you missed jury duty. Supposedly in order to confirm the call, the caller will ask for your Social Security number and any other ID and will then offer to wipe clean the warrant for your arrest if you pay a fine in the form of a prepaid debit or gift card.

What you should do: Federal courts will never ask for personal information by phone, the United States Courts says, and will not ask for Social Security or credit card numbers. Should you receive this call, hang up immediately and contact the agency the caller claims to be calling from, typically a government agency, Sheryl Presley, Oklahoma City Police Triad coordinator told AOL says.

8. The ransom call

The scam: Typically delivered under the cloak of night, the kidnapping scam plays on your fears that a loved one was kidnapped but would be returned safely as long as a ransom is paid. Scammers reach out by phone, email or Facebook message, claiming if you don’t pay up in the hour, your loved one dies, Men’s Health reports. The reason scammers get away with this is because they pick the right hour to deliver the scary message, usually in the middle of the night, so you are too disoriented to challenge or question the call.

What you should do: First reach out to the “kidnapped victim” before you jump to any conclusions, Men’s Health suggests. Even though you may annoy your buddy with a call at 2 a.m. to make sure they’re safe, shelling out thousands of dollars in “ransom” is far more annoying. Keep in mind, the scammers may have scanned your social media to identify a connection who posted about traveling or being on vacation, CBS Boston notes. This will make it harder to verify the whereabouts of your loved one. Call 911 in the event you receive a call like this and get police involved.

9. Fraudulent telemarketing calls

The scam: Just when you thought your mobile phone was safe, scammers target you with fake telemarketing calls. You first receive an email saying telemarketers may be calling your mobile phone, playing off the rumors of a 411 mobile directory, the FCC says. The idea behind the scam is if your number is listed on the 411 service, its open to telemarketing calls which is completely untrue and would be illegal.

What you should do: Never share any personal information or data by phone with a telemarketer. Most telemarketing calls placed to your mobile phone are illegal and should be reported to the FTC. Another trick: Block the caller on your phone so at the very least they’ll have to call from another number to reach you again.

10. The “spear phishing” email

The scam: While phishing accounts for 34% of the BBB’s complaints this year, “spear phishing” is on the rise. Phishing is when a business emails you and asks to “verify” your personal information, like your Social Security number, credit card numbers or passwords. “Spear phishing” gives the scam a more personal flavor, as it appears to come from someone you know and sounds more personal, USA Today says. This approach is far more dangerous because your guard may not be up, making you more likely to fall for this scam.

What should you do: As with any scam, be cautious of any emails asking for you to click on a link, USA Today advises. Also, legitimate companies aren’t going to ask for your password, and if a “friend” sends the email, reach out separately and ask if the friend really sent that message — sometimes tiny differences in an email address are hard to spot. Also, fraudulent emails are typically fraught with typos. Be wary of links that take you to a URL that begins with “http” rather than “https,” which is more secure. Read more (7/6/17)

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anonymous asked:

"i could do a whole Analysis on the hug i just,, really love it so much" Do it. I just love, love your metas/analysis and I'd love to see you talking about the hug <'3

ahhh thanks!! Ok, full sheith hug analysis, sure thing! 

So, the way this all starts. A lot of people will say the handshake somehow makes the hug merely casual and downplays the intimacy of it, but I don’t think that’s the case at all. See, this part is really important because it’s completely different from every other hug we’ve seen with Keith. If you look at any other case, Keith never initiates. Someone else grabs him, and he has no consent or choice in it. Despite the fact that he eventually relaxes and hugs back, everyone else still just assumes the forced contact is fine, and you can see how startled and tense Keith is:

Keep reading

Preference; I’d Understand

Alec Volturi and Paul Lahote preference requested by anon! “Yoo hows my favorite blog?? I’m doin’ alright. Can i get a alec or paul imagine where they’re scared about reader leaving him. Due to alec being a vampire that likes human blood. Or if you do pauls about him being a hothead. Hopefully it makes sense” Hope you like it!


In truth, you’d never been wholly comfortable with the meal-plan served in the Italian villa, given your awkward position as would-be appetizer. Despite your position in this so strange, vampiric court, despite your knowledge of the binding law protecting you from intentional harm, your stomach continued to twist and knot in fear. This discomfort, this terror stemmed not from your relations within the Volturi; no, even Aro had been kind, welcoming even, whispering about how overjoyed he was that his darling Alec had found such a promising mate. It was clear that he had a handful of particularly advantageous plans when the sunrise of your immortality broke the horizon, and thus took an affectionate liking to you. The subject of your mortality was a bit of a taboo, especially considering the diet of choice your new companions favoured, but your never felt discriminated for the beating of your heart.

It was never about your pulse, your necessary breath, the blood flowing through your veins, protected only by a thin layer of vulnerable flesh. Politically, you were fine. You were practically one of the guards, your transformation date set for sometime in the summer. It was never about you. It was about the thirty tourists you saw enter the throne room every week, it was their screaming that haunted your dreams, their horror that plunged the knife into your abdomen, churning your insides until you were reduced to nothing. It was your mate’s participation, his willing participation, that struck fear into your still-beating heart. If you had wandered into the villa, expecting a tour of Italian architecture, a history lesson on pillars or portraits, would he have slaughtered you as he slaughtered the others? Would he have spared you a second thought?

You were doubtful.

You stood with your back facing the entrance to your bedchamber, your eyes dissecting the intricate carvings laid into the marble of the walls. Though you had been distanced from the heart of the Volturi’s society, you could hear the echos reverberating down the hall nonetheless. Alec had noticed your discomfort and suggested a change of scenery, though you understood that even his residence in Verona would carry the weight of Volterra’s infractions. You were chewing the edge of your fingernail (a nervous habit you hoped would be kicked, finally, when you were torn from your human life) when your ears picked up on the subtlest wisp of movement, announcing the presence of your silent lover. Soon after, his hands were cooling your elbows, folding over your crossed arms, his honeyed breath polluting the air you inhaled. His lips pressed to your neck, your mind jumping from affection to unease as you noted the placement of his kiss. His voice, so soft, so sweet for so experienced a killer, sang against your ear, his hair brushing against your cheek.

“Darling, you’re troubled,” he observed, his icy fingers ghosting over your hands, lacing his fingers through yours, a tender gesture you were not expecting to be accompanied by the surprising warmth his frozen fingers carried. He’d fed recently, more recently than you cared to dwell on. A stranger’s blood warmed his frigid tissues. You flinched away from his touch, untangling yourself from his fingers, avoiding contact with his violent eyes, his angel’s lips parted in wounded confusion. “Y/n, what’s wrong? Is something the matter?” He extended his hand, and you once more slunk away from his touch. He ducked his head, slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks, exhaling lowly. When he spoke, his voice had changed drastically, harbouring an injury you had yet to notice on his physical form. “Aro warned me this would happen.” You did not speak on the matter, but recalled easily the moment you had departed from Volterra, your hand sliding from Aro’s papery skin, his eyes reading your most recent thoughts, likely painting vivid imagery to accompany your internalized terror. Of course he would mention this to Alec. Your inability to cope directly affected him. “This is about the blood.” His voice did not lilt in inquiry; there was no question, no confusion muddying his understanding. You lifted your face to address him, his eyes a blazing crimson, burning from within with the glow of his most recent meal. Your words clung to the insides of your throat, scratching their way downward, refusing to surface. Alec’s jaw clenched, his gaze lowering to the floor’s mosaic, his brow furrowing the silken plane of his forehead. It was almost inhumane to witness, to cause, distress in so beautiful a creature.

“If I could avoid… the way that I feed, I would do it for you,” he continued, his voice softer, quieter than before, his words dripping with sorrow like an open wound, his tone ringing with a melancholic tenor. “Once you’ve turned, I believe, I hope, that you will understand the difficulty we face. This is not a choice, the way that we feed. Our thirst is not a decision; it’s a compulsion. I have very little control of how I ensure your safety… If I were to refrain, I’m afraid I would be unable to keep myself from causing you harm.” Your breathing grew shallow as he explained to you the honest truths behind his so frequent feasting, his plump lips downturned at the corners, his eyes projecting a most uncommon weakness in one of the most powerful man you had the pleasure of knowing. He pursed his lips before exhaling a broken sigh, his chest heaving unnaturally. “If this is not something that you can live with… I’d understand.” His voice, usually so determined, so confident, now drifted into silence. The only sound available to your feeble ears was your steady pattern of breathing. You turned your face away, unable to hold his gaze any longer, your heart breaking for the angel you’d reduced to ash and cinder before you. After a moment, Alec broke his uncharacteristic silence, his voice illustrating a heart, an organ you knew no longer beat within the chiseled stone of his chest, breaking. If he was capable of producing tears, you had no doubt they would have fallen freely from his scarlet eyes, painting glimmering trails against the alabaster of his complexion. “Will you leave me?” You turned, shocked by his inquiry. How was he able to fathom a universe where you did not see yourself at his side? Had your affections fallen flat? Were you unable to illustrate to him the depth of your love? You crossed to him, your fingers angling his chin upward, forcing him to meet your eye, his irises blooming dangerously beneath a broken brow.

“I could not leave you if remaining by your side ensured the end of my life. To be parted from you would cause me unbearable pain. You are not what I despise, and your thirst… I can’t blame you for that. It’s the executions, Alec, that bother me. You’re herding people to their deaths by the hundreds every year. I can’t help but be bothered by the deaths. I’m only human, for now. If there is another way that you can live, tell me, and we can pursue that path. Together.” His eyes softened, his breath flowing over your face. Though his brow remained furrowed, his lips formed a cautious grin. He glanced at the position of the sun through your veiled window, his eyes returning to your face. He lifted his palm to cradle your cheeks, his face alight with the force of the words he spoke next.

“There is a coven in America, the Cullens. If we leave now, we could reach their home by tomorrow. I never thought I would say this…” His thumbs stroked over your cheekbones, the weight of his decision weighing heavily on his shoulders. “I believe they may be able to help us.”


You had been warned of this very scenario from the moment Paul’s realities had been revealed to you, the moment you became involved in the fiery universe that he was so ingrained in. You’d seen the evidence of a destructive temper on Emily’s face, scarring her for life, a warning sign to the other members of Sam’s pack: don’t get too close. You hadn’t had any issues as far as trust went; Paul was relatively calm when you were around, incredibly cautious to the point of over-protectiveness, and as kind and loving as the day you’d met him. He was well-prepared to prevent injuries similar to Emily’s, or worse, and handled his rage better than he had before you stumbled into him. According to his pack, he’d been a bit of a loose canon before imprinting, but your presence acted as a sedative to his usual rowdy, unpredictable nature. You’d been assured that his mannerisms, specifically his impulse to phase, had been quieted after he imprinted, but his actions spoke to combat the promises his brothers made.

Their observations had not been entirely false; Paul was, without doubt, a changed man, but he carried with him a fire that even you could not put out. While he wasn’t explosive, his fuse was relatively short. You hadn’t had the chance to argue, given the amount of time you’d known him, but you’d be witness to his quick temper. You’d never felt threatened in any way other than the typical back-away-if-he-starts-shaking, but that applied to any of the wolves. They all had off-days, but Paul was never someone to be feared, never someone to be wary of. He treated you with the utmost respect and care, but even he couldn’t put a stopper on the floodgates when you’d been approached by a group of men on First Beach. Their salutations had been more insult than greeting, their words slipping like an oil slick from between their unwashed teeth, their faces gleaming with a drunken sweat you could smell radiating from their bodies as you passed them by. Paul, of course, was not about to stand for this ill-treatment. You’d felt the vibrations rolling from his body through the hand that held his, heard his laboured breathing by your ear. You had enough time to extract your hand from his and press a palm to his chest before turning to the trio of vulgar men, warning them to leave before someone (here meaning them, but you couldn’t help but wonder if you also spoke in your own defense) was hurt. One look at Paul was enough to seal your threat in concrete. There was no question about his anger, and his bare torso was promise enough that any retribution would be undeniably painful. They fled, joining a throng of townspeople vacating the beach. Your eyes locked on his, his lips curling over his teeth. You’d attempted to whisper a few calming words before realizing how far gone he truly was. You backed away from his trembling form, every visible muscle tensing on his body as he too backed away from you.

“Y/n,” he snarled, his eyes flitting around as his convulsions intensified, watching the last of the beach’s crowd fade into the night. His unspoken plea was clear: run. You turned your back on him and joined the masses abandoning the darkness of the waters, their voices nearly masking the tear of clothing as Paul exploded from his skin. You turned in time to watch his tail disappear into the tree line. You headed for Emily’s place, hoping to find Sam or Jared holed-up in her kitchen. One of them must be willing to talk Paul down from his heated precipice. You knew they’d all done it before. Your trek was short-lived, and the harmonies reaching from Emily’s open windows carried promises of aid in the form of two, possibly three werewolves. You helped yourself in, your eyes finding Sam’s in the crowd surrounding Emily’s table. His face, lightened by Emily’s company, went dark when he met your gaze. It seemed he already knew. You cleared your throat, running a hand through your hair, watching as Jared, Quil, and Emily focused their attention on you.

“Anyone willing to track my boyfriend for me?” Jared cursed aloud, damning Paul to Hell as he dropped his half-eaten muffin onto his plate, clearly irritated with his friend’s lack of control. Quil offered an apologetic grimace, clapping you on the shoulder as he made his way to the door with Jared nipping at his heels. Sam said nothing outside of asking for Paul’s last-known location, departing with a a final glance at Emily, his fists balled around a pair of jean shorts. Emily’s hands fluttered about her table, sweeping crumbs from the surface, her eyes on your face. She nodded you over, inviting you to sit as she prepared her dinner, promising you that Paul’s episodes never lasted more than half an hour, and that was before you came along. She was almost certain he’d be back sooner. You chatted with her for the next fifteen minutes, your mind preoccupied, replaying the fading image of Paul ducking into the woods on the blank expanse of your eyelids. It wasn’t until Emily offered you a cup of tea that you noticed your hands were trembling. “Maybe I’m a wolf too,” you whispered, your voice failing your attempt at humour, Emily’s arms wrapping around your back as your body shuddered. She, of all people, knew the fear that now pooled in your stomach. Another ten minutes passed before you heard their approach, the sound of footsteps crunching against soil paired with Sam’s low, angry whispers. The three members of Paul’s rescue party had returned, and all three entered without a word, sitting at the table in absolute silence. Emily’s eyes focused on the doorway before finding yours, shooting you a sisterly glance you understood to be cautionary.

“Y/n,” your name was soft on his lips, a gentle tone meant to exhibit his level of calmness. You turned in your seat, abandoning your tea, your eyes falling on his form, propped-up against the open doorway. He gestured for you to join him outside, his hand running through his shorn hair. They did not tremble. You excused yourself and followed him onto Emily’s lawn, watching his shoulders heave with as he sighed, his back gleaming beneath the light of the moon. His hands were swinging at his sides, his muscles tensing and releasing as he paced. When he stopped, you were a good distance away from the house, out of earshot, you assumed, and away from any scrutiny. He turned, slowly, his every movement calculated, the effort behind his actions obvious. He was going out of his way to eliminate any perception you could have of him being a threat to your safety. He kept his distance, addressing you in a whisper from a handful of feet away, his bare feet digging into the earth as he spoke. “Y/n, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. That was… I put you at risk, and I’m so, so sorry.” His eyes lifted to the stars, his head shaking with frustration. “And, you know, I can’t even promise that it won’t happen again. I’m not in control, not like that. This can happen again, and that…” his voice dropped off, his sentence hanging open, fluttering in the breeze. When his eyes returned to yours, his face was broken, his lips pursed to keep them from quivering. “I mean, I’d understand if it’s too much. As much as it kills me, I can understand if you need to go.” He raised his hands, surrendering. “I want you safe, that’s all. I can’t promise you’ll be safe around me. I can’t.” You shook your head, closing the distance between you, continuing even after he mirrored your first few steps, eager to keep you out of harm’s way.

“Paul, if anything, you went out of your way to keep me safe tonight. You warned me that you were losing control, and you backed up, and you gave me time to step back.” He opened his mouth to speak, but you refused to let berate himself further. “You are not a threat to me, and I’m not going anywhere.” He exhaled deeply, relieved, and closed his arms around your back, pulling you to the warmth of his chest.

anonymous asked:

So if you wanted some prompts I have some for AvAc Winteriron: 1) Bucky is crushing hard on Tony and is irrationally jealous of Misty, whose arm Tony made her. He also wants an arm spesifically made for him by Tony! Even if the one he has is working perfectly fine already!

2) After arriving at the Academy, Bucky is shown around by Tony, and is really drawn to him. He’s so impressed by everything Tony has done for the academy (not that Tony likes to mention it, he only does so in passing as if it isn’t important), and after staying there for a while he is slightly horrified by how some people treat him/take advantage of him all the time.

3) Every new song Bucky writes has subtle hints about how he is in love with Tony, not that Tony ever notices. Janet, however, does, and confronts Bucky about it to be sure he won’t break Tony’s heart, because she knows how Tony feels about Bucky as well.

These were so cute, I combined all three. This is nearly 6k, so ‘ware the readmore! (I’ll put it up on Ao3 as soon as I get a chance, for easier reading/bookmarking…)

“Hi, welcome to Avengers Academy!”

Bucky turned toward the voice, wary. When someone said “welcome” at Hydra, it usually meant they were planning to humiliate you or get the drop on you with an ambush.

Well, they could try. The Winter Soldier had carved out a niche of respect at Hydra, and he would make one here, if he had to.

“Usually it’s Jan or Pepper doing the welcome tour, but Pep’s off interviewing some potential recruits and Jan’s right in the middle of planning next month’s parties, so I said I’d do it. So hi, welcome – I said that already, didn’t I? – um, I’m Tony Stark, nice to meet you!”

Bucky looked him over. Tony Stark had armored boots and a gauntlet on his extended hand, and was wearing a garish red and yellow jacket over skin-tight jeans. Those jeans did not look practical for combat, but they did an excellent job of showing off Tony’s legs. Tony had artfully fluffy hair that made Bucky want to mess it up, and a scraggly attempt at facial hair that was kind of cute in its utter failure. He’d started off with a bright smile, but it was beginning to fade, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

“Uh, okay,” Tony said, dropping the extended hand and rubbing it on his other arm uncertainly. “So you’re the Winter Soldier, huh? Is that… what you want us to call you? I mean, most everyone’s got a codename and, you know, a real name, but we’re pretty divided on what we want people to call us. I’m Tony and Jan is Jan and Pepper is Pepper unless she’s really mad at you in which case she’s Ms. Potts. But you should see how mad Enchantress gets if you try to call her Amora, and man, do not call Hulk Bruce, he smashes extra hard if you do that. And ‘Spider-Man’ thinks he’s maintaining a secret identity, so we pretty much humor him and call him that if he’s got his mask on, you know?”

Bucky considered this. “Names are nothing but words / it is the soul within that hurts,” he tried. Not the best meter or rhyme, but there was a theme there worth exploring.

Tony stared at him blankly for a moment. “Um. So you’re… cool with whatever, I guess. Okay. Well, I’m supposed to show you around the campus, so come on, I’ll make sure you know where everything important is!”

Tony led Bucky around the campus in a wide arc. Bucky already knew the campus layout, of course, having studied it in preparation for attack. But it was very different, seeing things with his own eyes, and Tony’s constant stream of chatter was often amusing.

“Two nightclubs, in fact,” Tony was saying proudly. “There’s the Galaxy club there–” He pointed toward a garish neon building. “–and the Guardians put on a mean death metal show, I gotta say. But a lot of us prefer something a little more homey, and that’s Club A. Pool table, jukebox, great dance floor.” He looked sidelong at Bucky, then shrugged. “Cap spends a lot of time in there, so…”

Bucky didn’t let himself wince, but he wanted to. His feelings about Cap – Steve – were… complicated. But Tony was looking at him hopefully, waiting for some sort of reaction, and Bucky was oddly disinclined to disappoint him. “The bartender is a robot,” he observed.

“What? Oh, yeah, I made him.”

“By yourself?” It took – had taken – a team of three Hydra scientists to merely perform maintenance on Bucky’s arm.

“Oh, sure, robots are easy. The challenging bit was upgrading him so it didn’t cause any long-term damage when his head comes off.”

Bucky stared at Tony.

Tony shrugged. “Crossbones keeps ripping his head off, and I don’t know how many times I’ve tried to tell him they don’t like that, but he won’t listen, so it seemed easier to just make it so it wouldn’t hurt them too much, you know?” Bucky had no trouble believing that. Crossbones was… unpleasant. It wasn’t enough for him to accomplish his missions. He made it personal.

Tony was still talking about the robot. “… already had some easy-repair joints for the robots at the blasting range, so I just had to find a way to–”

Now that sounded like something Bucky would enjoy. “Blasting range?” He swung his favorite rifle off his shoulder. “Show me.”

Tony’s smile was all teeth. “This way.”

Keep reading




Pietro Maximoff x Reader
 Hey can you please do a Pietro Maximoff imagine where you are a new Avenger with the power of energy manipulation but you’re really shy and quiet and he overhears a jealous Shield officer picking on you and he makes him apologize and comforts you
Warnings: Slight violence
Notes: Hey guys, this was meant to be out on Tuesday but as per usual I procrastinated writing it. Anyway this is just a short little imagine that I thought was kinda cute. Enjoy!

Mutant. Enhanced. Gifted. Freak. They were all words people used to describe people of your kind. People with powers. You got off lightly if your ‘special gifts’ were man made such as Captain America, But for those like you, that were born with your powers, that had no real explanation outside of genetics for your abilities, you were brandished a freak, someone to be wary of and avoid at all costs. However this didn’t seem to stop all the big organisations trying to collect you all, both SHIELD, HYDRA and even AIM had shown interest in people of your kind, but you made your decision, picking the side of good over the side of evil.

Though this didn’t mean you were always welcome in the ranks of SHIELD. Many of the lower down agents resented you, feared you even. Luckily for you, you quickly bonded with Pietro and his sister, Wanda, the famed Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch. They were both entranced by your ability to manipulate energy, to be able to create anything you wanted by simply manipulating the forces around you. But despite their joy at the powers you possessed you still avoided showcasing them in public places, fearing others reactions. This wasn’t helped by your shy and conservative nature. You’d learned from experience that is was safer to try and blend in, stay unnoticed, then to bring attention to yourself. 

This was the same reason you often found yourself in such predicaments as you were in now. A well built SHIELD officer had cornered you on your way back to your room after training. “So the little Avenger thinks she special eh?” The man sneered, pushing your shoulder none to gently. Shaking your head you just backed up further till your back hit the wall.  “Course you do, got all the higher ups fawning over you and your ‘special abilities’.” He scoffed, towering over your small frame. “When all you are is a disgusting little freak.” He spat, malice clear in his eyes. However the second the words left the mans mouth he was thrown back, a familiar pair of blue eyes replacing his. “Are you okay?” Pietro asked, his anger clear in his voice. Nodding your head, Pietro span around to face the man who had been cornering you seconds earlier, shielding you in the process. “What did you say? Pietro growled, hands in fists by his side. Wiping the blood from his now split lip the man slowly pushed himself off the floor. “I said… freak.” He spat, a small smirk on his face. Before he could move another muscle Pietro had him in a headlock, pinning him to the cold ground. “You apologize right now…” Pietro growled in the man’s ear, “Or I’m going to make things very… very painful for you.” Pietro smiled maliciously, putting more pressure on the mans back, him letting out a small groan in protest. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry okay?” The man wheezed out, clearly in a lot of pain. “That’s better, now if I see you within 5 foot of Y/N again I won’t let you off that easy.” Pietro said before zooming back to your side and scooping you up in his arms, making a quick get away back to your room. 

Placing you down gently on your bed, Pietro sat on the floor, back leaning against it. “Prinţesă, are you okay?” Pietro asked, looking up at you from the floor. “I will be.” You whispered, mindlessly fiddling with the hand he left on your bed. “Thankyou Piet.” You smiled shyly, running your thumb along his knuckles. “You’re no freak Prinţesă and you do not deserve to be spoken to that way.” He smiled, gently squeezing your hand. Smiling you just lay back, thanking whatever was out there that you had Pietro to always watch your back.

5 Ways Hitch Dreyse Will Outlive All of You

so i have a lot of thoughts about Hitch, and honestly i have never really collected or posted them before but i’ve been thinking about her character a lot lately, and so i decided maybe i should do so. There’s always been stuff floating around about her, and i never really resonated too hard with most of the fandom views, so i think i’ll try putting into my words what i think about her (and some on marlo) as a character and where her position *may* stand right now (if she shows up again.) This wasn’t supposed to get so in depth but it did, and hopefull it can help other people see her better than how she presents herself at face value, becuase she is SO interesting. 

Here you are! My first ever meta post!

What happens next may shock you! More under the cut!

Keep reading

I’m self indulging myself in a bunch of cutesy Doommetra headcanons since it’s 3am, the perfect time to overthink ships.

Doomfist probably keeps his relationship with her private to ensure her safety, only claiming his interactions with her are purely to convince her to join Talon and for connections to Vishkar. He’d be out for blood if something happened to her just because she was close to him, and he’s wary of someone like Sombra using her against him one day.

He likes calling Symmetra his little Sungura because her headset looks like bunny ears. It flusters her each time.

He’s also very conscious of his strength when he’s around her. He may have no fear in battle, but with her, he’s always a little nervous that he may hurt her on accident.

She doesn’t take gifts well, but he likes to send her gifts to show affection. He thinks it’s a little funny to see her come back to him with the boxes in hand, demanding that he return the items. He adores her modest nature and it just makes him want to spoil her that much more. He would give her the world if she asked, and constantly tells her how he’d do anything for her. She never asks for much, usually just a do-over on chess.

They both like to talk about current events and their different views sometimes leads to debates. If things ever get too heated, he snuggles up to her. Symmetra thinks this is unfair conduct.

He fell in love with her after watching her wander around in his private library. He didn’t mean to develop feelings for her; he just wanted to recruit her, but seeing her light up over classic novels tugged at his heart. Soon after, everything she seemed to do was a little endearing. Now, they enjoy reading together. She will sit in his lap or lay across his chest to do so.

He likes to study her hardlight technology and asks a lot of questions regarding it. It’s what interested him in the first place, and he’d love to have her on Talon.

She patches him up when he comes back from missions sometimes. He likes to be pampered with the extra attention.

She enjoys listening to him talk about martial arts and watches him demonstrate for her. Sometimes, he feels the need to teach her some things for self defense in the event that anything ever happens to her. He prays that she’ll never need to use them, but it’s better safe than sorry.

Symmetra’s prosthetic actually came from his company. He recognized the model when he first laid eyes on it. He’s impressed that she takes care of it so well that it still looks like new.

While he knows he has no business seeking love when he has Talon and his business to run, he’s certain that he’d definitely marry her if she’d have him. Sometimes, thinking about it is what gets him through the day. She never really had any plans for marriage, but she would at least give it some thought if he actually proposed.

He’s had a number of partners in the past, while she’s never had one before him. At first, he was a little aggressive in his pursuit of her, but he soon realized she wasn’t fond of it. He toned down and respected her boundaries. He’s extremely patient with her and never pushes her to do anything, always stopping if she says so. He puts her needs above his.

They’re both fine not seeing each other for days on in since they’re both busy people. He definitely reaches out to her more though and calls just to hear her voice. He’s debated on whether or not he should just get her to move in with him.

While he has more extravagant ways of showing affection, she has simple, quiet ways. Sometimes, he’ll find little written notes around to see that she’s done something for him. Occasionally, she’ll make him a lunch to take with him on missions. His teammates have no idea why he has smiley faces on his napkins, but they’re not dumb enough to ask. He thinks her notes are the cutest thing.

anonymous asked:

Trans Spring Man you say?, please tell? :)

if there’s one thing I want to be known for it’s trans Spring Man hcs

  • As I mentioned before, I think that by the time he’s in the ARMS League he’s already had top surgery. Prior to that he did participate in some lower level ARMS competitions while binding, and came away from them in so much pain that he decided to postpone his plans for a career in ARMS fighting until after he could afford top surgery. This is why he joined relatively late - Spring Man is canonically the newest ARMS fighter to join the League, yet he’s also far from the youngest.
  • He’s fairly open about being trans! He refuses to answer inappropriate questions (e.g. deadname questions, plans for surgery), but he’s always happy to educate people who are willing to learn. He gets his fair share of haters but he ignores them in favour of supporting other trans folks, especially young kids.
  • He’s unofficially considered the face of transmasc rep among celebrities, as the ARMS League canonically averages 100% viewership and so literally everyone knows who he is. He doesn’t have the time to do a lot serious activism work, but he does what he can to help.
  • He is, however, very adamant on promoting safe binding practices. He’s bruised a rib or two back when he was trying to do ARMS fighting while binding, and he dreads to think how much damage he could have done to himself if he hadn’t known better and used ace bandages or duct tape.
  • It’s half-coincidental-half-deliberate that his fighting outfit mainly comprises of the trans flag colours. Spring Man just wanted to put together something that looked half decent, ended up with the trans flag colours, thought it was a cool coincidence and so decided to keep it like that.
  • He is very fond of trans puns, though they don’t come as easily as bi puns.
  • He’s lost count of the number of times he’s gotten stuck trying to put on or take off a binder. He is very grateful that he no longer has to deal with binders.
It Ain't a Crime (Happy x OC)

Here you go my lovelies. 10,000+ words! This one took longer than expected because I just couldn’t stop writing. For some reason this entire fic is in the third person. I don’t know why. It just didn’t feel right when I tried to write the OC in the first person. 

Word Count: 10,473

Playlist: Cold As Ice - Foreigner, U Mad (feat. Kanye West) - Vic Mensa, & LUV [Remix] (feat. Sean Paul) - Tory Lanez

Originally posted by sonsofhappylowman

Originally posted by piperiverad

They all sat around the chapel’s table, voting on their latest retaliation efforts. Lee counted the unanimous ‘Yay’ and slammed his gavel down on the table. The men began to murmur, agreeing with the measures to be taken and thrilled to get to drinking. It was Friday after all.

“Wait!” Lee stood up, gesturing to the group to wait. They all turned their attention to him, “I hired a new bartender. Be nice.”

A few eyebrows raised at his announcement. They knew about the bar being short staffed, but they didn’t think he’d been in the market for more employees. Needless to say, the boys were intrigued. He’d never warned them to be nice before. He thought about the woman he hired. She was far from timid, but she’d be a shock to the rest of the boys. They definitely wouldn’t expect her to be standing behind their bar, doling out the shots.


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"Look,” I said.

He turned, wary lest someone had appeared at his heels with a fresh problem, but his face relaxed as I gestured upward.

Frank, urged to look at some wonder of nature whilst preoccupied with a problem, would have paused just long enough not to seem discourteous, said, “Oh, yes, lovely, isn’t it?” and returned at once to the maze of his thoughts. Jamie lifted his face to the glowing glory of the heavens and stood still.

What is the matter with you? I thought to myself. Can’t you let Frank Randall rest in peace?

Jamie put an arm about my shoulders, and sighed.

“In Scotland,” he said, “the sky would be like lead all day, and even at the twilight, ye’d see no more than the sun sinking into the sea like a red-hot cannonball. Never a sky like this one is.”

“What makes you think of Scotland?” I asked, intrigued that his mind should run as mine did, on things of the past.

“Dawn and twilight, and the season of the year,” he said, and his wide mouth curled slightly upward in reminiscence. “Whenever there is a change in the air around me, it makes me think of what has been, and what is now. I dinna always do it in a house, but when I’m living rough, I’ll often wake dreaming of folk I once knew, and then sit quiet in the twilight, thinking of other times and places.” He shrugged a little. “So now the sun is going down, and it is Scotland in my mind.”

“Oh,” I said, comforted at having such an explanation. “That must be it.”

“Must be what?” The setting sun bathed his face in gold, softening the lines of strain as he looked down at me.

“I was thinking of other times and places, too,” I said, and leaned my head against his shoulder. “Just now, though … I can’t think of anything but this.”

“Oh?” He hesitated for a moment, but then said, carefully, “I dinna much mention it, Sassenach, for if the answer’s ‘yes,’ there’s nay so much I can do to mend it—but do ye often long for … the other times?”

I waited for the space of three heartbeats to answer; I heard them, Jamie’s heart beating slow under my ear, and I curled my left hand closed, feeling the smooth metal of the gold ring on my finger.

“No,” I said, “but I remember them.“

-The Fiery Cross
Feel the Rain. (Namjoon x Reader; Fluff)

In the midst of your mundane routine life, you meet a man who changes it all. 

Namjoon x Reader; Fluff

A/N: Because my sister requested some Nams fluff and because it was raining today >.< Enjoy ~ 

Originally posted by himchans

           Your life was routine.

           You worked endlessly, got home, hopped into pajamas, turned on the television, heated a microwaveable dinner, went to bed, and repeated the entire cycle over again.

           Every. Single. Day.

           You didn’t hate it; it made things less stressful when you did what you had to without putting much thought into it. Yet, on some days, you wished there was more. Was this all there was to being an adult? Was this what your life was going to look like years down the road? Was this what you had spent years of school to do?

           Was this the success people strived to achieve?

           Yet despite these thoughts and empty promises of changing it up, you never stepped out of your mundane lifestyle.

           It was safe. It was comfortable.

           It was secure in your little world of things you knew for certain.

           Whenever you got into one of your moods, you spent it walking around Ttukseom Island. You hated being alone, but you liked having time to think. Over at Ttukseom, you could be by yourself yet still be amidst the crowds of people.

            People of every age and background gathered there. All from different walks of life. Some people just strolling, others rushing to get to places, others spending quality time with family. You were one of many. It was a comforting thought that maybe you weren’t the only one out there feeling lost.

           You had everything you wanted. You had a wonderful studio apartment, a great and trustworthy group of friends, and a good paying job that highly valued you. But while you thought that having all of these things would make you happy once upon a time, the current reality was that you weren’t completely satisfied. So you often went to Ttukseom to reflect, but that was the closest you would get to taking a risk. You never acted on any of these thoughts.

           One particularly cloudy day, you were admiring the gloomy skies that seemed to match your thoughtful mood. Suddenly, the same skies opened up and it began pouring.

           You grinned.

           For once, you were prepared with an umbrella. So while everyone was running to find shelter, you continued to walk calmly amidst their chaos. Food carts closed up, picnics were packed, and those who were exercising disappeared. You smiled to yourself at this slight change of pace. You were usually one of those people, but now it was interesting to observe them from the outside. As you continued your walk, you spotted a silhouette of a man up ahead. He was sitting down, no umbrella, no hood; he was simply just staring at the sky with earphones in.

           You thought he was a bit crazy and part of you worried for his health. So slowly, you approached his figure and covered him worriedly with your umbrella. A bit startled at the shadow hovering over him, he turned to look up at you with wide eyes. You mirrored his surprise because you hadn’t expected him to be so young and attractive. Thankfully, the chilly breeze created by the storm offset the warmth building on your cheeks.

           "Thanks.“ he grinned at you warmly.

           "Shouldn’t we get out of the rain?” you inquired.

           "Why?“ he questioned.

           "Cause…we’ll get wet?” You furrowed your brows, wondering why you had to answer something so obvious.

           He chuckled. “Why is that something to be scared of? I’m all wet and I’m still alive.”

           You stared at him. He had a point.

           "But your clothes…and you might get sick…“ you tried to reason.

           "Have you ever experienced the rain?” he asked, his attention back to scanning the view in front of him and his mind flittering back to his thoughts.

           "Well… I’m experiencing it now?“

           "No…” he laughed. “You’re just simply passing by the rain.”

           You tilted your head to the side. “How is that different from experiencing the rain?”

           His lips curled up as he beckoned you to squat down to his level, so you did. He placed his earphones into your ears. Kindly, he took off his jacket and placed it on the ground next to him, gesturing for you to sit down.

           You were never one to interact with strangers, but he intrigued you and he didn’t seem like someone you should be wary of. He gave off a very comfortable and friendly vibe. Besides, you had nothing on you that was of value to steal anyway. So you obliged and sat beside him. Carefully, he grabbed the umbrella from your grasp. You bowed shyly, aware that your shoulders were touching in order to fit under your tiny umbrella.

           Then you sat and listened, but you heard nothing through the earphones.

           "Is it playing?“ you asked.


           "I don’t hear anything.“

           "Yes you do.” he grinned knowingly.


           "Listen.” he urged.

           You quieted down and heard the muffled sounds of the rain happening around you.


           You realized what he meant. Grinning as he observed your realization, his hand reached outside of the umbrella, staining his fingers with droplets. You stared at him as he did so.

           This was by far the oddest thing you had ever done in your life. Sitting next to a hott stranger, sharing an umbrella, and even sharing earphones to simply listen to the rain. Yet strangely, you felt at peace.

           You both spent a minute or two taking in the beautiful scene in front of you. The sky was painted eeriely gray, as if the clouds were large puffs of smoke. The streets were filled with fallen leaves and abandoned trash. The sounds of chattering behind you were drowned out by the raindrops hitting every surface they could find. You were in awe. Had storms always been this alluring and mysterious?  

           "Do you want to experience the rain?“ he mumbled, his hands still providing a destination for the droplets.

           You glanced at him. "I thought that’s what we were doing?”

           He chuckled shyly and shook his head. “Experiencing things isn’t just 1-dimensional, y'know.”

           You squinted at him skeptically. “Then how do I experience the rain?”

           He looked at you and your heart skipped a beat as your eyes connected. His face beamed at you, as if your question was the best news he had ever heard. Your eyes caught sight of two adorable dimples on each cheek and you couldn’t help but think that this man was both child-like and mature simultaneously.

           "You ready?“ he grinned mischievously.

           You gulped; your heart racing. You weren’t a risk taker by a long shot. He observed the hesitancy in your expression and gave you a warm smile.

           "Sometimes you just have to go for it.” he muttered before shutting your umbrella quickly.

           You gasped as the freezing rain found its way onto your skin. The man laughed as you sat there astounded. He stood up and outstretched his hand out to you.

           You were still flabbergasted. You weren’t sure whether you were annoyed that you were soaked or that he had sprung this on you before you gave your consent. Then his hand came into view and you glanced up at him. He was smiling at you with a lively twinkle in his eye, like he was enjoying himself. Oddly enough, your hand found its way into his and you were pulled up to your feet easily.

           Now that he was standing, you realized that this man was tall with slender legs like a model. He was dressed in jeans and a yellow oversized sweater comfortably. When you looked at his face, it seemed to give away that he was wiser than he let on yet humble and gentle. When he looked at the sky, he was looking through it, as if he was trying to penetrate into the secrets of the world, to unlock all of its mysteries.

           "Well?“ he chuckled, catching you gawking at him, and you hurriedly averted your gaze.

           "Well what?” you blushed.

           "How does it feel to experience the rain?“ he laughed.

           Oh right.

           You cleared your mind of your thoughts about this stranger and just focused on what was happening around you. Looking down at your hand, you felt the rain slide down your skin smoothly. The air was cold yet the rain was warm. You smiled widely as you realized the truth of his statement before.

           Why were people so afraid of getting soaked by the rain?

           "Do you do this often?” you asked him.

           He smiled.

           "You mean living?“

           Your smile faded as his question resonated with you. It seemed to be exactly what you needed to hear for a few years now, as you teetered back and forth indecisively about the constant routine of your days. It dawned on you that …

           You weren’t actually living

           You weren’t experiencing everything life had to offer.

           So in burst of inspiration, you did the most forward thing you had ever done.

           "Do you want to grab coffee with me?” you blurted out to this complete stranger.

           This time, he was taken aback but he stated cheekily, “I don’t know. I don’t really drink coffee with strangers.”

           You two laughed knowingly.

           "I’m Namjoon.“ he introduced with a courteous bow.


           "Would you like to use your umbrella?“ he handed it to you and you shook your head, grinning.

           "No…I quite like experiencing the rain.”

           You smiled at each other.

           Something inside you was lit aflame and you felt like you were seeing the world with a new set of eyes. People looked at you two like you were crazy as you walked by, holding an umbrella yet not using it. But although you were drenched and shivering, you had never felt more alive than when you were listening to Namjoon talk. You wanted to see the world through his eyes more and more. It was a world you wanted to see too.

           During coffee, you found out that he was traveling around before the start of a full time job. For some strange reason, you confided your thoughts to him about being bored with your life. You divulged that you felt ungrateful because you had achieved so much yet you weren’t happy. Constantly, you felt like something was missing. For some reason, you felt like he would have the answer. And for some reason, he knew exactly what you needed to hear.

           "But happiness is created.“ he simply stated, as if it was a common fact.

           "What?” You fluttered your eyes in surprise.

           He laughed. “Most people think happiness is received, right?”

           You nodded as you listened intently.

           "But it’s actually something that you continuously create. No one can give you the happiness you want, other than you.“ he explained. "You create your own version of happiness because you’re the only one who knows how.”

           Before you could ask him anything else, his phone rang and he fumbled frantically to pick it up.

           "Ah shoot. I have to go.“ he cursed as he grabbed his things in a flurry. "It was nice meeting you, Y/N. Good luck with everything!”

           You were flustered by the suddenness of his departure. All you could do was watch him stumble out of the cafe, clutching his phone to his ear hurriedly.

           Meeting Namjoon was a whirlwind to say the least, but that day in the rain and his words stayed with you long after the week had gone by. Every time you stepped out of your apartment, you wore earphones but played nothing. You listened to the sounds of every season, of every type of weather. And slowly, you set out to create your own happiness.

           It was easier than you had expected. You learned to cook, albeit very slowly and clumsily. You tried new restaurants and experienced eating all kinds of foods. You did things that piqued your interest. You did things on your own despite always having preferred people’s company. And you wondered what had even held you back in the first place.

           Was it fear of the unknown? Fear of failure? Fear that it wouldn’t make you happy? Maybe it was just simply fear itself.

           And whenever it rained, you were reminded of Namjoon.

           You wondered what he was doing. Was he standing outside without an umbrella again? Was he travelling somewhere, staring at some amazing view, living life to the fullest?

           You still frequented Ttukseom, hoping to bump into him. You sat in the spot where you had met and felt foolish, dreaming about a man that you had only known for about an hour.    Months went by with no sign of him. His words had turned your life around and he was with you in every new thing that you tried. He was in every happiness you created. Yet, you didn’t even know his full name.

           "Psst. Did you hear that the new CEO is officially taking over today?“ your co-workers whispered as you all sat around, waiting for the CEO’s arrival.

           You tapped your foot and yawned anxiously. Today was one of those days where you wanted to curl up in pajamas and watch sappy movies while listening to the rain tap on your window. You could care less about the changing of CEOs because it wasn’t going to change how you did your job.

           "I heard he was young and attractive. Top of his class. He’s been bred to take over the company since birth.”

           "Doesn’t that mean he’s going to be as harsh as the last CEO? Working us like slaves?“

           Suddenly, the doors opened and a rushed silence spread across the room.

           "Everyone stand up and welcome the new CEO!” your boss announced and everyone fumbled to get up from their seats to pay respects and to get a first glance at the new head of the company.

           You dropped your clipboard and got the wind knocked out of you as your eyes finally caught sight of the man.

           Grinning widely, dressed in a fitted suit was the very person who had changed your life.


           The noise of your clipboard falling had attracted everyone’s attention, and his eyes immediately fell on you. You could tell he was also a bit surprised at your presence, but soon, a gentle smile splayed on his face.

           "Please, have a seat.“ he chimed. "There’s no need to be stuffy.”

           Timidly, you took your seat along with everyone else. You were trembling with some sort of mixed emotion. You were excited at your reunion but also nervous that he turned out to be the new CEO of your company, out of all things.

           “Oh I’m just travelling until I start my new permanent job.”

           You groaned, putting the vagueness of his previous statement into context. Your co-workers nudged you because everyone was glancing your way since you were contorting your face at your realization. Hurriedly, you straightened up and apologized, but Namjoon merely chuckled at your behavior. Still smiling as he stood confidently in front of the podium, he began.

           “Has anyone ever stopped to experience the rain before?”

           While everyone looked around and mumbled in confusion, your eyes met each other’s and you shared a coy smile from across the room.

           And you knew, your life was going to get a lot more exciting from now on.

anonymous asked:

hello i've seen/been told a lot of stuff about you condoning pedophilia... the term "pedophile apologist" has been used to define you... can you explain where this is coming from and why people are saying this about you? i want to hear what's going on from the source itself instead of blindly following what everyone else is saying.

i dont condone or defend pedophilia at all. like its disgusting and evil. i dislike re//imob. again, im guessing that this is because i dont get involved in ship drama and i dont usually check where i reblog stuff from? i also interact and follow people on twitter who have drawn/posted about re//imob as well but sometimes people are problematic and i choose to ignore it so i can see their other content

what also may have granted that title is my Personal Opinion: if someone likes something in fiction only, i have no reason to condemn them. is it still a red flag? yes. should you be wary of someone who posts that kinda stuff? probably. does that objectively mean theyre a bad person? not necessarily. i mean i like gore and violence in fiction but does that mean i want/im going to chop someone up? of course not! and i understand the reasonable concern that someone would have over my obsession over fictional violence; if theyre wary of me because of it then thats okay because i understand the consequences of drawing it

if someone is genuinely attempting to make a case for real life pedophilia, or incest, or anything else like that being okay then you have every right to shame and attack that person. seriously. i’m not cool with the normalization of pedophilia and thats why we all collectively agree it should be stigmatized, even in fiction. if anyone who complains about “antis” says stuff about how people should leave their ship alone, theyre the people you should worry about. the people that watch what they post and understand that people would be upset with them for liking it? im not worried about those kinda people personally but you can be if you want

okay thats my long speech lol. on a final note, if you are a minor, get xkit! block those things! block people that make you nervous! be safe! this website is technically 17 and up but if an adult is making you uncomfortable, don’t interact with them! 

TL;DR i don’t like pedophilia but i can’t ass myself to get angry at people who are upsetting/deviant because i hate drama


Platane: Hey, Satoshi-kun! Having a strategy meeting?
Satoshi: Professor Platane!
Platane: Eh? Manon-kun!
Manon: Professor!
Platane: When did you get here? Did you come to cheer for Alan?
Manon: Eh?! Y… yes…
Satoshi: Alan?!
Manon: Eheheh…

Platane: Have you met with Alan already?
Manon: No. It’s fine until the end of the final. He must be focusing hard right now, I don’t want to be a bother to him. I’m thinking of meeting with him after the final!

(“disturb/bother” is [jamasuru]; same verb that Alan uses to tell off Pachira… and Manon at the Devon Corporation at the beginning of Act III. So she… possibly internalized that ;;)

Manon: I’ll be okay from here!
Eureka: I’d have liked for us to stay together a bit more… I want to talk more!
Manon: But Fleurdelys-san is waiting. And running into Alan would be bad.