still needs to search for source

Ashes [M] Final

Pairing: reader x Hoseok

Genre: angst, vampire!au

Word Count: 8,109

Warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, depictions of violence and gore

A/N: I cannot believe I am finally writing this. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for embracing this story. Thank you for giving me the confidence for stepping outside of my comfort zone as a writer. I was extremely nervous to write a vamp au but you all welcomed this story with open arms. Thank you for loving vamp Hoseok and the OC as much as I have

Originally posted by jengkook

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Final

The pain raging through your body was nothing like you ever felt. The feeling of your teeth coming in that very first time was child’s play compared to this. You tried to stand on your feet, but the searing pain of Hoseok’s torture made you crumple back down to the ground. A pair of hands pulled you up from the grass, and brought you back inside the cabin. This was the worst nightmare you had ever experienced, except you would never wake up from this one.

Someone held a pint of blood to you lips, forcing you to drink until the plastic bag was empty. He sank down onto his knees, but through your blurred vision it was impossible to see his face. But he smelled familiar. “Y/N?” he asked cautiously, and you blinked several times until the red haired vampire came into focus.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you hissed, as you came face to face with one of Kai’s right hand men. “I thought I killed you.”

Chanyeol laughed, “You tried, but Kai was able to pull me out of the boathouse.”

“Chanyeol is on our side, Y/N. You didn’t think that Jimin was the only vampire we had on the inside, did you?. You can put your claws away.” Namjoon informed you as he came trudging through the room followed by the others. All in various stages of the healing process.

“How can I trust him?” you hissed, still unable to accept the redheaded vampire’s presence in the cabin.

The tall vampire looked you straight in your dead eyes, “Because you can’t. I could really care less what happens to you, I just want that asshole dead.”

A chill spread across your spine as he repeated the words you had heard several times over. The two of you stared at each other, enemies fighting for the same cause. You pursed your lips into a thin line as you started to pace the kitchen, “Fine. Tell me what your big plans are.”

Namjoon nodded at the empty chair at the table, “I think you should sit down for this.”

Keep reading

Appendix A: About The Librarians

I Know Too Much about how libraries and librarians work. This resulted in complicated headcanons about job roles and org charts, trying to figure out how the behind-the-scenes of all the accumulating bits of canon and fanon would work. Hope it’s okay to share this here.

Crossposted to AO3


Libraries contain vast amounts of information that create possibilities, and stories, that have an immense amount of narrative weight and power. They are basically one giant liminal space, but one that exists for the people that use it. And it’s the people that work in the library that create that connection.

The Fair Folk have opinions about librarians. There’s a certain amount of idealism involved that would make them vulnerable, but so much of what they know and do is dangerous. They are accorded a certain not-inconsiderable amount of respect and caution, let’s say, and leave it at that.

There are two kinds of librarians at Elsewhere University, two sides to the same coin. There are the librarians who have an employee ID number, and a title on their nametag. They have lunch breaks, vacation time, and salt and iron in their pockets and stashed in odd corners in their desk drawers and offices, just like the rest of the staff and faculty. And then there are The Other Librarians. The other librarians can be found on floors ten through twenty-three. Officially, there are nine floors to the library. (This does not include the rooftop garden that is not accessible by stairwell or elevator.) The sub-basements are officially recognized. The tunnels are not.

The other librarians also have officially-issued library nametags. All they say is “librarian.” Some of the other librarians may have been human once. They may have officially retired. They may have learned too much, or willingly given up something that held them tethered to mundane cares outside of The Library, or made a bargain for something the library needed.

There are stories of a cataloguer, best of his generation, who reached a point where he could recite chapter and verse of the standards, never misjudged a subject heading or used the wrong cutter number. The arcanest of arcane inscriptions held still for him while he captured the true author and all relevant cross-references. There was not a text he could not read, or element of biliographic control that he could not master. The years went by, and the standards changed, Anglo American Cataloging Rules superceded the Rules for Descriptive Cataloging, ISBNs were introduced, AACR became AACR2, and a switch from cards to computer records loomed large. He knew so much, but was afraid so little of it would still be relevant. He made a deal.

He wasn’t the first. There are still cards appearing in the card catalogue today written in copperplate Library Hand script, as proscribed by Melville Dewey, with a pen and an inkwell.

There are still memories on the lower floors of a reference librarian who could find anything. There are people on staff who worked side-by-side with her on late night reference desk shifts, and tell stories of how she had an infinite command of Boolean logic to wring every penny out of the paid-by-the-second online search services. There was not an annotated bibliography or index that she didn’t have at her fingertips, and she could walk a student though the reference interview from “I need a book, I guess” to “help me find three print sources for my introduction to pre-confederate Canadian literature mid-term paper” in twenty seconds with a smile. Rumour has it that she bargained away the memory of every childhood pet she ever had to get internet access in the library for undergraduates. Officially, she retired in the late nineties. But in the Deep Library, there are those who can coax the dial-up modem into connecting to a Dialog subscription that the university hasn’t paid for in two decades, and bring back an answer in seconds every time.

There are fading echoes of the year that the entire cataloguing department and half the reference librarians vanished in the stacks in the early 1940’s. The university was smaller then, and the protections that were needed to balance a tumultuous time in world history took a terrible toll. It was said that if you stood in certain parts of the stacks, you could hear the air raid sirens, and watch the collection grow as refugee books were taken in. There were dark whispers that some of the staff disappeared into the library in a trade for safety for family members or one of the other desperate bargains made in wartime, but some were promoted to the upper floors without warning because the library didn’t want to lose their valuable talents to conscription or worse.

If the Library needs you, it will take you. If you are lucky, it will be on your terms, at a time of your choosing. In most cases, a masters’ degree in library and information sciences from a nationally-certified graduate program is required, though in some rare cases, an equivalent combination of education and experience may be considered.

Most undergraduates and visitors (both the mundane kind that come from outside the campus, and the Visitors), and some university support staff, will leave with a vague impression of any of the librarians as an ominous yet helpful shape, and an overwhelming sense of sameness. This is a type of protective camouflage that the library generates, and it extends to cover all the librarians, the one that leave at the end of the day, and the ones that do not. They cannot all be the same. It is, of course, impossible to run a library without a wide and varied pool of skill sets and personalities, all of which contribute to the, shall we say, unique personalities, egos, interdepartmental rivalries, feuds, and alliances that are the lifeblood of an academic library.

This protection waxes and wanes depending on the year. During the spring and summer semesters following the Chemistry Majors’ Revolt, anyone remotely associated with any of the science departments would find themselves on the doorstep of the library with a ringing in their ears like the sudden absence of a loud noise, holding the books or other information they’d gone to the library to find, with no memory of how it got there. An entire spring-semester introductory chemistry class knows the structure of an APA-style bibliography inside and out, but could not tell you when or where they learned it.

In more recent times, sufficiently motivated undergrads, graduate students, and faculty will have little trouble differentiating one librarian from another, if they are on floors one through nine. (They must, of course, be referred to by job title as they do not have names.)

There are operational needs that must be met. It’s hard to plead your case as to why the library really should keep that critical music theory database for your graduate level seminar course that currently costs as much as all of the journal subscriptions for the art history department combined when you’re not sure if you’re talking to the subject liaison librarian for fine arts, the head of interlibrary loans, or an eldritch creature with no face but a really excellent recall for geopolitical boundaries in medieval Africa, and a working knowledge of twelve dead languages, seven of which were never spoken by a human tongue.

(Interlibrary Loans and Fine Arts–the subject librarian, not the department–have been in the midst of a prolonged feud for the past decade over a hiring committee disagreement regarding practicum student placements and a botched exorcism. It is rivalled only by the cold war between Interlibrary Loans and Cataloguing over supply budgets that’s been running since the late nineties. Confusing one for the other would be unhelpful, to say the least.)

The Other Librarians generally do not encroach on their colleagues’ responsibilities. They are still librarians with all of the professional ethics that entails, and are generally orderly and rule-abiding, unless a fundamental principle of librarianship is at risk. (Do not speak of internet filtering within the library walls if you wish to leave with all of your fingers intact.)

The Deep Library should be approached with utmost caution, regardless. Some people in the profession say, your library should have something in it to offend everyone. EU’s library would agree to that statement, with some extensive additions, explanatory footnotes, and cautionary appendices. Respect the Library.



In search of bravery. 
fuckstudy’s 35/100 days of productivity

“I still don’t know where I’m going to be in ten years…if I happen to veer off a little bit as long as my heart and my soul is telling me that that’s where I need to go, (then) that’s what I’m going to do.” - Claire Marshall (@left-side). 

You are, you are, all the wonder in the world

Request: College klance where Keith is like bullied or something in some way gets incredibly hurt and acts like nothing is wrong but it keeps getting worse and worse and Well my boy lance is super worried

Summary: Keith keeps getting hurt. And every time he does he insists the same thing: ‘I’m fine.’ ‘It’s nothing I swear, Lance.’ ‘I can handle this myself.’ But how many times is Lance supposed to accept the lie? Brush off his worries and patch up Keith’s wounds? How many times does he have left before Keith gets so hurt he can never stand back up again?

P.S. I finally discovered how to make words italic after two goddamn years on this website.

The first time, Lance let it drop. Chose to believe Keith’s words and bury his worry, whittle away the time until Keith was willing to talk. He wasn’t badly injured. Lance was safe to wait a while.

‘Hey, Keith? That you, babe? I thought you were gonna be back an hour..-‘ Lance paused, head hanging around the doorframe, eyes popped and mouth drawn wide. ‘-…ago..’

Keith was limping. One foot steady, the other hobbled, he inched his way through the door with a face like thunder and a greeting to match.

‘Don’t ask, not talking,’

‘..Okay,’ Lance sung, spinning his heels to follow Keith’s figure as it passed towards the bathroom. Lance’s eyebrows raised in question as he noticed the backpack usually slung haphazard across Keith’s back, now clutched tight to his chest, protected. ‘Well.. when you get done with whatever emo shit you’re doing in there, I’m ordering pizza,’

Keith’s voice clamoured around the clang of the door in the frame. ‘Not hungry - order without me,’

‘What?! Keith - you’ve been looking forwards to pizza night all week!’

‘Have not.. Still not talking, Lance,’

‘You said - and I quote - ‘I would die before I miss pizza night, these midterms are kicking my ass, and I need the cheesy sustenance to live’,’

A grinding crash echoed from the closed bathroom door, eliciting a yelp from Lance’s lips. Twisting the knob, he pushed into the room, eyes scanning the entrance in search of the source, and found to his horror, Keith splayed out on the floor in a pile of books, muddied beyond all saving or repair.

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Bellamy’s humility

Bellamy’s disregard of his own self as well as his importance and place in the world is something that affects a lot of the story. For instance, do you ever think why he couldn’t get Clarke to stay in 2x16, even though she managed to get him to stay in 1x08? Let me answer that for you.

People often point out that the two scenes are direct parallels—and that is true…to a certain extent. (gif source)

This is a good chance to notice just how he goes about trying to convince her. The first thing I picked up on is how emotionally-charged his argument is. There’s a pleading in his voice, his words, his eyes. It exudes sincerity. See that search in his eyes? Looking to see if she recognises the words she told him a long time ago?

They also both tell each other ‘you have to come back with me/please come inside’ and ‘we’ll figure something out/we’ll get through this.’ But there is one, very crucial thing still to be noted: (source)

Bellamy never told Clarke that he needs her.

Bellamy does not tell Clarke the one thing she once told him, when she opened up to him. In fact, Bellamy hasn’t ever really made anybody aware of the connection he has with Clarke—even Clarke herself (but that’s another thing I’ll talk about in another post). His pleading with her to stay just oozes with genuine emotion, but he still pulls back from letting her know how leaving will personally affect him. Why?

Because of his unwavering humility; his humility is what failed him in this situation. Bellamy does not, ever, put his emotions, wants or needs before anybody else’s. Yes, he needs her, but he doesn’t want that to be the reason Clarke stays. The 2x16 is a very tension-filled scene, because you can tell that Bellamy has more to say, but he won’t let it out. Subconsciously, he’s already come to terms with the fact that she will leave, and he can’t convince her to do otherwise. Instead, we have him echoing her words to her, hoping that they will change her mind just as they did with him so long ago…but to no avail. 

On another note, we see the same reaction in 3x03 when somebody else dear to him leaves him: (source)

It’s his subtle manner of trying to let Octavia know that she is his home. But it’s too subtle—Octavia and Clarke do not pick up on his attempts to make them aware of how much they mean to him. But he would never outright tell them, no matter what, as if the last thing he wants is for his feelings to jeopardise their happiness. That’s how humble Bellamy is, and how much he elevates others, even if it hurts him in the process. He bottles up too much.

However, there is something I’d like to add. Clarke does at some point realise Bellamy needs her, too.

From Day Trip’s ‘but…I need you’… (source)

To Hakeldama’s ‘I need you. You need me?’… (source)

To Join or Die’s ‘we need each other, Bellamy’. (source)

Clarke picked up on it. She went from I need you to we need each other, because she knows now that she is just as important to Bellamy as he is to her. Without him even saying it, she was able to observe this and make it known to him that she knows now. And that she won’t leave again.

Bellamy finds it difficult to put his feelings for people he loves on display to them. He feels it is a burden or nuisance to them, and so he tends to bottle it up and tell himself they are much more important, that their wellbeing matters more. But that passion he has for affection to and from others is so strong, we find him trying to express his emotions in the faintest manner and it doesn’t really work. And it hurts him. He gets angry. He gets left behind. But, with this connection he has with Clarke, I feel that at some point he will be able to express his direct emotions more often. I mean, just look at 3x05 and 3x13. He told Clarke things, he told her that she left him, and that he was angry at her for leaving. Both in the past tense, though; ‘you left me’‘I was so angry at you for leaving.’ They came too late. 

But it is Clarke herself that has influenced his slow-but-steady road to showing people when something will hurt him, showing people what they mean to him and showing people that he needs them. It will happen at some point!

Cosplay Music Videos are Awesome

In case you didn’t know, Cosplay Music Videos or CMVs are a thing, a really awesome thing. I went on a CMV youtube spiral recently and figured I’d share a few that particularly struck me so if it’s your cuppa you too can have all the feelings.

Like Sad Feelings 

[SNK CMV] - Say Something by Lume Cosplay

Attack on Titan to the song ‘Say Something’, you know you’re gonna cry. This is an amazing display of how a CMV can take an idea that just wouldn’t work the same way in a fanvid. The use of stillness is really effective here. Lovely.

[NGE CMV] Beside You by WaffleswithSpain

Neon Genesis Evangelion, another one which I ended watching go ‘wow, ouch’. This vid uses the editing of the video to do some neat story telling and visual metaphor. There’s so much craft out there in CMVs I’m impressed, it’s so cool!

Or Happy Feelings!

[No.6 CMV] Made For You by WaffleswithSpain

A modern soulmate AU for No.6, don’t mind if I do! CMVs can totally fill a storytelling/fic kind of joy too. I’m really excited for CMVs that execute telling a story well. It’s really hard to do! Some CMV creators have clearly figured out what works and it’s a pleasure to watch. I look forward to finding more vids like this as hopefully more CMV creators try outside-of-canon story telling.

Viktor x Yuuri - All I Want for Christmas (Yuri!!! On Ice CMV) by Uptown Cosplay

Yuri!!! on Ice, Victuuri, unsurprisingly this is my favorite of what I’ve been watching (how many times have I watched this CMV, lets just say lots). I can’t help grinning every time. Characters I ship going on adorable dates? Yes A++ The nuance of the acting too! (like all of these videos have lovely acting, possibly I have too many feelings about Victor’s eyebrows and slight smile at the beginning? Also Yuuri’s excitement). 

Something I love about CMVs, which the YOI vid hits for me particularly well, is this telling of queer stories. Fandom talks a lot about representation and fic obviously is pretty great at taking a source and telling non-straight stories with it. But there’s a pretty obvious lack of music video/movie mediums telling queer stories. CMVs are this wonderful treasure trove of happy adorable queer relationships and it’s just so joyful to me. Not every CMV is that, there are also angsty queer ship CMVs and those are great too!, but I’ve found that the happy ones to be surprisingly addressing of a need I hadn’t realized was still unmet (I did do that fairly thorough search for official music videos with LGBT content a while ago, which maybe I’ll post recs from soon if anyone is interested).

Anyways, long post tl;dr cosplay is cool, cosplayers are doing some really impressive things in their videos and as a person who likes fanvids it’s a fascinating growing fannish production area. Also, it gives me all the feelings.

I can't believe I still have to say this but...


Just reblog it from the original artist. Why do you feel the need to repost it, when you can easily find the source with an image search. Also don’t repost at all or credit unless the artist gave you permission. Just. Don’t. Repost. Art.
It’s not necessary and at this point you have no reasons that are good enough to justify it.

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Pricing is done by an estimated number of hours it takes me to work on a piece of artwork


A realm of primordial chaos… Who knew it would be so… empty…? I walk this world in search of exit, but I cannot even find the door I first entered through. Every step I take, every drop of my soul screams as it burns. I do not belong here… No, nothing belongs here. The chaos eats away at the remnants of the light that holds my existence together, like a blackhole tearing a star apart to consume it… But I have to hold on. I must endure. 

I was born with a purpose. A purpose I am proud to serve. I was entrusted with a great mission… And only I can fulfill it. Without it, I… I would have no reason to exist. I must exist, because I want to exist. Because… because I am… important… 

How many suns and moons have risen and fallen since I’ve been imprisoned here in solitude? What happened to the world of the shattered El? I do not know… But now… my senses are… slowly becoming dull and numb… My memory… hazy. Why… am I here…? I was… created by… I must… do something…? …Who… am I? Everything… is becoming dimmer… 

I wilt away like a lonely flower in the middle of a barren desert, forgotten by everyone, and remembered by no one. Eventually the sand of time will bury what’s left of me, and it will be as if I had never existed. Even if I disappear, nothing will change… The thought alone surprisingly calmed me. In the sea of nothingness, I slowly closed my eyes. 

Maybe withering away is the only exit out of here…

It was then when I heard someone calling out my… …Name? Yes, my name. I had a name… I have a name. And someone remembered me… After all this time… I am remembered. I was not… forgotten. I am still… needed… somewhere. I must… answer that call. I must get out of here.

I searched for the sound, struggling to remember the familiar melody I had heard in my earliest memory. I grew desperate; before the song ends, I must find its source, before I am lost in this labyrinth forever. When I turned around, there it was, the beacon of my salvation, shining against the darkness and becknoning me to my destiny. I looked upon it like it was the very first sun that had risen to break the long spell of lightless winter. 

I am returning… to the place where I belong.

I shut my eyes to brace myself for the blinding light that broke into the rift. It’s been so long… I almost forgot how the realm of existence felt. Soft breeze gently caressed my skin, and I realized I was free from my eternal prison. I opened my eyes and what came into my view was… an unexpected sight: in the middle of a lush green forest, a red-haired boy stood before me. He either didn’t notice my arrival, or was expecting its exact moment that he did not see the reason to turn around to face me.

He did not utter a word but I instinctively knew who he was, and so, I knelt.

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pyschnerdxphile  asked:

#3 - things you said too quietly, pretty pretty please! :)

She stands in the hallway leaning her forehead against the door, the 42 crowning her hair like a tiara of blood and bad news. She straightens and tugs at her blazer, looking there for a semblance of togetherness.

She presses her fingers roughly against her closed eyelids until she see stars and tries to imagine that this is what it’s like to be Mulder. That if you press hard enough, if you set-aside the pain for a moment, those flashing lights and stars in the darkness of your mind’s eye can be the answer to the questions that, before you met him, had never even thought, or dared, to ask.

Her hands are pink and raw. Despite washing repeatedly and having pragmatic knowledge that this was just a psychological reaction, she feels that she has been unable to wash the scent of Teena Mulder’s dead body off of herself. She has showered and scoured, trying not to cry at the thought of wearing his mother’s corpse on her skin, as if he could smell the dead on her like a cornered animal. Fox, she thinks, and knocks on the door.

Her body is stiff and rim-rod straight as she listens to him patiently, talking about conspiracies, and letter-writing and missing children and all she can hear in the background is the timbre of a prayer. To give death reason. She only intervenes when he finishes with a grief-struck “And that’s why they killed her.”

No Mulder.

She has been a source of science and reason since childhood. Her faith has helped her give death reason, her medical background to give reason for death. He needs her science, not her faith, although he still doesn’t always understand how these two are inextricably intertwined in her. Right now he needs seven years of trust and partnership, and their mutual search for the truth.

“Mulder your mother killed herself.”

She holds him as he cries and wonders if this is the way to hold a man together, by leaning into him and cradling his head against your womb. She strokes his hair and his back until she feels him hiccup and her eyes water dangerously. Broken men weep and hiccup exactly like little boys do.

She leads him to the couch and lies down with him, cradling his face against her breast, leaving soft kisses on his hairline.

“What now?” he whispers hoarsely and she worries briefly about how small his voice sounds.

“You have me.” she mouths into his hair and although she knows that it’s impossible for him to have heard, his hand presses her more tightly against himself.

“Scully,” and she feels his tears on her blouse and her tears on his hair and her name is uttered like ancient, sad magic on his lips– part invocation, part plea.

“I’m staying, Mulder.” she murmurs into his temple. “I’m not leaving.”

And she means it, as in forever, as in I love you, I’m here.

He’s asleep by then, but she wants to believe that he heard her through exhausted grief.

She thinks of Douglas Adams, of how he says that the answer to every question in the universe is 42. She looks down on his face softly glowing under the light of the fish tank and gently rubs her thumb between his eyebrows, to smooth out the furrow there. She was never one for science-fiction, but she now knows that there is some truth in Hitchhiker’s Guide. The answer to what she wants, to what she was always missing. Yes, it’s true. The answer is in 42.

tether || theo raeken

prompt: when your brother goes missing, theo is the only one that can hold you together.

requested by: @impalaspn

warnings: anxiety attack, mentions of death

You couldn’t sit still. You were extremely nervous. Well, that was an understatement. You were terrified. Your feet tapped relentlessly against the wood floor beneath you, and you were trying to busy yourself by counting your fingers over and over, but it wasn’t working. 

“Hey, are you gonna be okay?” Lydia’s soft, comforting voice made its way to your ears, and you looked up, meeting her eyes.

“I-I will be,” you softly replied, “once we find Liam, I’ll be just fine.”

Lydia gently rubbed your forearm, a gesture that let you know she was there if you needed her. You smiled gratefully, and watched as the strawberry turned back to the task at hand: trying to get a boy to help them locate Liam and Hayden.

Liam was your younger brother, and the fact that he was missing upset you to no end. Your little brother was very important to you, and you were so terrified that something terrible had happened to him. 

Lydia and Mason were trying to help the boy, Corey, to remember where Liam and Hayden might be. But it was proving to be harder than anticipated. You were trying not to blow up at him, because you knew he was trying his best. But you were on the verge of breaking down from uncertainty. You contemplated leaving and going downstairs, that was where the rest of your friends and boyfriend were. But you stayed put, not wanting to miss a single thing.

“Sorry,” Corey sheepishly spoke up, his eyes flickering to you before looking at the two beside him, “I’m only on chapter two, I’m kind of a slow reader.”

“That’s okay,” Mason told him with a smile.

Suddenly, the sound of rushed footsteps sounded from the hall, and Scott breezed into the room, his shoulder bumping yours and causing you to nearly lose your balance.

“He’s right,” said Scott, making a beeline for the boy, “we don’t have time for that anyway.”

You watched with wide eyes as Lydia yelled at Scott to stop, right before he plunged his claws into the back of Corey’s neck. You let out a gasp, realizing what he was doing. He was tapping into the boy’s memory.

And while you really wanted to find your brother, a sick feeling began to rise in your stomach. You didn’t think invading someone’s memory was the right thing to do, but there was no stopping Scott at this point.

You leaned against the wall, squeezing your eyes shut and trying your very best to stay calm, just as three more sets of footsteps could be heard making their way down the hall. Stiles, Malia and Theo rushed into the room, stopping when Lydia told them to stay back.

Theo’s eyes landed on you, and you felt his hand on your shoulder. “Hey, are you alright, princess?” He asked, his voice just above a whisper. You fought the urge to burst into tears as you looked up at your boyfriend. Concern was tattooed upon his face.

“I just need to find my brother,” was all you said, your voice thick with emotion. Theo slipped a protective arm around your shoulder before turning to the group, his interest piqued at what Scott was doing.

“What’s he doing?” He questioned the pack. It was at that time that you began to zone out, not focusing on what anyone else was saying. You let your worrisome thoughts get the best of you - what if they weren’t able to find Liam? Or what if when they did find him, he would no longer be alive? 

You closed your eyes again, trying not to panic. Everything will be fine, you tried to tell yourself. But your feeble attempts at assurance weren’t helping anything.

Your heart rate spiked, and Theo noticed it instantly, his head turning to look at you. He asked you if you were alright, but you couldn’t answer. You were shaking like a leaf, and you had to get out now.

“I can’t do this!” You exclaimed before pushing away from your boyfriend, turning to dash out of the room. Your feet pounded against the stairs as you ran down them. Your vision was blurring, and you couldn’t get out of the house fast enough.

Once you’d managed to stumble out onto the front porch, you collapsed against the railing, tears already making their way from your eyes as you went down.

The screen door flew open, and Theo stepped out onto the porch, his eyes traveling to where you sat on the wood floor. He cautiously made his way to you, his ears trained on listening to your heart rate and breathing levels.

“Baby,” he calmly spoke to you, kneeling down beside you, “you need to calm down, your heart is beating way too fast.”

“I can’t calm down!” You cried, “my little brother is missing, and probably dead! How do you expect me to calm down?!” You were clutching onto the railing, your knuckles turning white from the way you were squeezing.

Theo reached forwad, gently placing his hands on your own and pulling them away from the banister, bringing them up to his chest. 

You closed your fingers around the fabric of his shirt, holding on for dear life as he pulled you close to his body. You immediately broke down in tears, burying your face against his chest.

“Shh,” Theo whispered, moving his hand to bring it to your back, his palm rubbing circles. “we’re going to find Liam, princess. And he’s going to be just fine, you’ll see.”

You cried even harder at that. “You don’t know that for sure.”

Now he’d wrapped both arms around you, holding you flush against him, his chin resting on your head. “You’re right, I don’t know. But you can’t keep assuming the worst. I know you’re scared, and that’s okay. But you have to have some hope. Liam wouldn’t want you to give up all hope.”

You didn’t reply. You kept your face pressed to his chest, your tears soaking through his dark t-shirt. But he didn’t care. He wanted to hold you for as long as you needed him to.

He pressed feather-light kisses to your forehead, trying his best to soothe you. “We’re gonna do everything we can to find your brother, I swear to you.”

You nodded your head against him, indicating that you’d heard him. Your tears had finally stopped, and you took a shaky breath as you stood there, still holding onto your boyfriend. 

Right now, he was your only source of comfort. You needed him, otherwise there would be absolutely no way you’d be able to handle this. Theo was the only one who could help you keep a level head.

After several long, quiet moments, you both leaned back, Theo’s arms still holding onto your waist. “Are you okay now?” He softly questioned, his eyes searching your own.

“I will be,” you assured him.

He reached a hand up, bringing it to your cheek. His thumb wiped away a stray tear, and you closed your eyes at his tender touch. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to your forehead. 

“I’m staying with you while they go out looking for Liam,” he announced. 

You shook your head. “No, you don’t have to. You should go with Scott, I’ll be okay here.”

But Theo was stubborn, and he only smiled at your protest. “You don’t have a say in it. I’m going to stay right here with you. Scott’s totally able to handle himself. It’s you I’m worried about.”

You slid your arms down to his waist, encircling them around him. “I just need to get a grip,” you mumbled, “I’m being a drama queen.”

He shook his head, grasping your chin so you’d look at him again. “Don’t even say that. You’re not being dramatic, you’re being human. You’re worried about your little brother, you just want him to be safe. I understand, believe me I do. Don’t ever put yourself down for having natural, human emotions, okay?”

You let out a soft sigh, nodding. “Okay.”

His thumbs caressed your cheeks, as if he were about to kiss you, but before either of you could move, the door swung open, revealing Scott, Malia and Mason. 

“Did you find out anything?” Theo called, and Scott looked at him.

“Yes, Liam and Hayden are at a water treatment plant. We’re going to go get them. Do you want to come?”

Theo shook his head, slinging an arm around your shoulder and pulling you to his side. “Nah, I’ll stay here. Good luck.”

The trio headed off the porch, and you hurriedly pulled away from your boyfriend, rushing down the steps.

“Scott!” you spoke, and the Alpha turned to face you.

“Bring him back, okay? Just…just bring him back.”

His facial features softened, and he nodded slowly. “I will. I promise.”

And then he was gone, leaving you to trudge back up to the porch. “He will find him,” Theo murmured gently. “If anyone can do it, it’s Scott.”

“I-I hope so.” Your eyes lifted to fall on Theo’s face, and he moved closer, his eyes asking if it was alright to kiss you. You placed your fingers on his jaw, leaning over to join your lips with his.

The kiss was soft and deep, full of such tenderness and love. It made your heart swell and tears well up in your eyes again. But these weren’t tears of despair, they were tears of gratitude - gratitude towards this boy who was holding you in his arms.

He finally broke the kiss, resting his forehead against your own. “Shh, don’t cry, princess.”

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “These are happy tears, Theo,” you breathed.


You leaned into him, your body conforming to his own. “I love you more than anything,” you told him, and you meant it.

“I love you too.”

The two of you stayed that way for a long while, relishing in the pure intimacy a loving embrace could bring. You felt safe, and your worried thoughts were subsiding.

Your brother was going to be fine, that’s what you told yourself, replaying all of Theo’s reassuring words in your head. And he’d been right, for you were soon reunited with your little brother, your eyes shining as you hugged him, though your eyes never did leave Theo’s face.

You silently thanked him for being there for you. 

He gave a simple nod, his lips curling into a little smile. It was then that you knew it - this boy wasn’t just someone you loved dearly. He was so much more than that. He was the only steady thing in your life in that moment. 

He was the tether that kept your head above water. 

I Carry Your Heart with Me

Word Count: 3,477

Genre: Bittersweet fluff?

Author’s Note: I was very happy with BTS win today but I also feel really sad and tired lately so I decided to dig up this story that has been sitting in my drafts for months and finish it. I know you guys probably want the last chapter of Stealing the Bite but this fic means a lot to me so I hope you give it some love.

He was a wonder of the fates, surely a child of the moon, all fire and laughter and passion.

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Fade (TomTord Backstory for MA AU)

Eddsworld fic, 24890 words, tom/tord + paul/patryk

Chapter 2/?: Hellbent

Ao3 mirror

Two pieces in a puzzle that fit together, clinging as if their lives depend on one another. What happens when one is separated from the other?

(Prequel story for the TomTord relationship in the Monster Apartments AU)

Warning for possibly triggering content, including hospitals, needles/discussion of surgery, IVs, hallucinations, kidnapping, and physical abuse/combat/conflict, minor character death, major character death

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Mr. & Mrs. Jeon VI

a/n: it’s finally come. i’m so sorry for the long wait!!

word count: 3.4k

previous <> part VI <> part VII

Underneath the covers, his arms were wrapped snugly around your bare waist and your head rested comfortably against his unclothed chest. After remembering the tangled mess of limbs you both were a few hours ago, a smile curled up the corners of your mouth and you snuck a glance up at Jungkook who was still sleeping peacefully.

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Okay, so...

When we first started out, gathering reaction images so people could search through and use them easily seemed like such a simple and fun way to contribute to the fandom. It turned out to be so much more complicated and problematic than that, though! 

So… with Tumblr’s new gif function making it easier than ever before to find and use gifs, and even source them?… It seems like a good time for us to go ahead and pack it up.

We’ll leave the blog up for posterity (for now), and still check on it here and there in case there’s any more sources to add or posts that need to be taken down. Other than that though, we are officially retiring.

So thanks for your help, patience, kindness, and for having fun with us here.

Near or Far, Together at Heart - Chapter Two

This is a collaborative piece between myself and @miss-zei there is MUCH more to come following this first chapter, so please look forward to it! 

Chapter 1/Chapter 2

Summary:  Natsu would scour the entirety of Magnolia, Fiore, and the world to find Lucy; but what happens when he’s forced to search through multiple universes? Is his love and determination strong enough to push him through the obstacles that stand between him and Lucy?

Rated: T for language and possible future situations

Pairing: NaLu

Word Count: 3138 

Chapter Two - Read Between the Lines


Why is everything so dark? So…quiet?

I need to get to Lucy…



“—CY!!”, Natsu’s eyes shot open and he promptly sat up with a gasp.

“Shhh”, an unknown individual chastised from somewhere in the vicinity.

He eyed his surroundings, the rows and rows of shelves of books towered above him like skyscrapers in a big city. The floor itself was covered in shaggy green carpeting and several books scattered about, piled in the corners and on top of chairs and tables. Gross. He had to be in a nightmare right now. There was no way in hell he’d willingly waltz into a place that would require him to read. Where the hell was he exactly?

He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips at the sight. This must be some sort of joke. Nevertheless, he needed answers, and he certainly wasn’t going to get them by staring at those giant paperweights. He sighed and brushed a hand through his hair as he stood, using the bookshelf next to him for support—his body was still rather sore from the battle with the dark guild prior.

A golden glint from one of the books caught his attention in the corner of his eye, and he thought about reaching out to grab it, when he remembered his initial mission. Right—Find Lucy.

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Little Dumpster Treasure

pairing: krisho

genre: catboy! au, romance, hurt/comfort

warnings: hybrids used as pleasure slaves, mentions of abuse

rated: NC17

summary: Checking into meowing dumpsters can be lifechanging. Kris learns this the kitty way.

A/N: basically just me wondering how it would be like if Joon was the homeless kitty and Kris the human who rescues him. and if no one spots the finging nemo reference I’m going to be so mad, and apparently I have an affinity to make fun of Kris’ dick. not even sorry.

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