swinging lamps

And her sweet red lips on these lips of mine
Burned like the ruby fire set
In the swinging lamp of a crimson shrine,
Or the bleeding wounds of the pomegranate,
Or the heart of the lotus drenched and wet
With the spilt-out blood of the rose-red wine.
—  Oscar Wilde, In the Gold Room, A Harmony.
the signs as tom holland's second performance on lip sync battle

aries: tap dancing in that baggy suit with the wig obviously showing under that fedora, looking clowny as fuck

taurus: dropping it (it being that tiny peach ass that can’t be bigger than a walnut) low for the audience in those leather booty shorts Yum

gemini: the sassy walk on stage revealing his lingerie like buckle up bitches you’re about to see this boy work for the prize

cancer: putting his umbrella between his legs and grinding on it, why was i born as a person and not an umbrella

leo: The Hair Flip™

virgo: swinging around on that lamp post knowing damn well he’s about to go shake his goodies like tobey maguire probably does when he’s begging his agent not to give up on him

libra: walking up to zendaya ready to unleash hell (hell being his dignity and That Ass)

scorpio: raising those arms made of Pure Muscle and the tears of baby angels, as rain falls and fire flares in the background

sagittarius: that lil bubblegum booty twerking to the beat, like is his ass a flavor of juicy fruit gum yet

capricorn: the very end of the song when he just flipped and fell back into the cum of millions water :)

aquarius: grinding on zendaya like full on backing that ass up on her man gollum was going for it

pisces: those thigh muscles and also that shit makeup job

Smoulder Chapter 34

Summary: These kids never learn 

Read on AO3 / FF.Net 

Smoulder Chapter 34

The akuma was relentless.

Ladybug’s heart flipped as the rooftop below her feet began to crumble, turning into a slew of muddy rocks and boulders. Beside her, Chat Noir yelped out as he lost his footing. She reached out to grab his tail just in time.

Without stopping to think further, Ladybug threw out her yo-yo to the nearest lamp post, swinging both her and Chat to safety just in time.

Or so she thought.

Too late she realised the akuma must have zapped the lamp too. The once taught string of her yo-yo slackened. Her and Chat fell to the ground with separate shrieks.

Before they hit the pavement, Chat wrapped himself around her, placing a hand behind her head to protect it from the impact. Ladybug closed her eyes, felt the sudden smack of concrete rattle her bones, before the pair of them rolled gently to a stop.

“Well My Lady,” Chat grunted from below her, winking, “seems you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place.”

“Seriously?!” she cried, pulling him to his feet and flicking his nose.

“I saw an op-purr-tunity and took it,” he replied, wiggling his nose.

“Not your fe-linest moment Kitty,” she shot back as they ran for cover, ducking and dodging falling boulders as they did so. They leapt a few streets away from the akuma, hiding behind a large dumpster in order to come up with a plan.

The Akuma, whom they’d nicknamed Landslide, was particularly nasty. Neither Ladybug nor Chat had been able to verbally engage with him so his motivations remained vague. But some akumas were like that, angry and hurting, dedicated to causing as much chaos as possible. They  were usually the most dangerous ones and Landslide was no exception.

“We have to concentrate on keeping  the akuma contained,” Ladybug huffed, eyebrows knotting together in a frown.

“And getting as many people out of the area as possible,” Chat agreed. Luckily they’d managed to evacuate most people from the buildings, and force them to head for safety. Chat had been the distraction whilst Ladybug warned others and Alya, being the ever present blogger, had spread the word over the internet. Unfortunately there were still a few stragglers, those interested in seeing the superheroes fighting with their own two eyes, and others who were simply panicking and not thinking things through.

From a few streets down, Landslide let our a roar which caused them both to jump. Ladybug grabbed Chat and pulled him down to the ground where they hid, waiting, hoping…

Dio! He sounds rather grumpy no?”

Ladybug glanced up to see Volpino hanging from a window box by his bushy tail. Once he realised they’d noticed him, he dropped down to the floor to join them,  crouching down to their level. His ears flattened against his head so that they wouldn’t stick out from the top of the dumpster and give them away. Impressive, Ladybug thought, that he’d leaned how to control his extra appendages so quickly. Chat had taken months to be able to control his tail, and it still had a life of its own…

…Or did it?

That pesky cat.

“Forgive me for intruding,” Volpino interrupted her train of thoughts, “Nathanael and I were nearby when I saw the akuma attack. We ran away and, once I made sure he was safe, I managed to lose him so I could find you-” he ran a worried hand through his hair- “the akuma seems rather viscious so if you two need help, I’m willing and able though it is not my- ahh- my time yet. So to speak.”

Ladybug mulled their options over, placing her fingers on her chin. On the one hand it was nothing her and Chat  couldn’t handle, and Volpino hadn’t been announced to the press yet so this was sure to cause a media frezy. On the other hand there were people in very real danger. Any extra hands would be useful and the media were going to go crazy over a new hero regardless. Headline stories meant nothing over the safety of the people they were in charge of protecting.

She glanced over at Chat, who nodded solemnly. He seemed to be sharing the same thoughts as her.

“Ok,” she complied, ushering him closer. Volpino beamed, ears perked as he hurried towards them, though he quickly forced them down again.

“You have powers of illusion right?” Chat asked looking at the flute residing on Volpino’s hip. “That’ll be pretty handy actually!”

For a moment, Volpino’s smile faltered.

Keep reading

Contrast in D&D and the Malaysia Job

Dungeons and Dragons is a game of fantasy escapism. Where we can throw fireballs from atop a pegasus, where a true, objective evil can exist and good can triumph against it.

Like most things fantastic, it falls flat without any grounding. It becomes too unreal, without any contrast with what we expect to happen, it ruins our suspension of disbelief in the story. It makes it feel, well, like a game made up in our heads.

Grounding the fantastic in reality is common practice, in fact you’ve probably seen it before without realizing it. Why actors in a film will interact with a special effect, why in “Who Framed Roger Rabbit” the lamp swings about overhead and the shadows wash over both the detective and Roger. Grounding these things makes the fantastic more real and believable, and makes the players feel more like a part of the world.

Now the question becomes how much realism, how much grounding is necessary without bogging down your players. In Uncharted 4 there’s a chapter titled The Malaysia Job. Drake’s done treasure hunting. He’s doing safer, every day life diving and excavation. The player controls Drake and plays through segments of this and his home life. When this game came out there was a decent amount of outcry against this part, complaints that it was too boring returned by it was supposed to rebuffed by then thats bad game design. Its arguable that this was too much realism for an adventure puzzle platformer shooter, but what it does do is give the player contrast to when Drake’s shooting a jeep from the back of his brother’s speeding motorcycle, it enhances adventurous moments in the game.

Just like this you can use moments of realism to enhance the adventure side of your campaigns. How much realism is up to you and your players, but some might find it funny after slaying an orcish horde to have to use athletics checks to move bales of hay on a farm. Some might even find it refreshing. Or maybe theres a door that frequently gets stuck and just needs a little jimmying, only for the dragonborn paladin to underestimate her strength and rip it from its hinges.

You even have storytelling avenues not available in other mediums. You can summarize the events with the players, talk over what happened and take three hours of game time and condense it into fifteen minutes.

Contrast is incredibly important in successful high adventure campaigns, even if you’re walking a small mountain village a la Uncharted 2 it keeps the players grounded in the world they live in and ramps up the intensity in dire situations.

So in talking to the lovely Ler ( @bifacialler, y’all should go give them thanks and worship), I’ve come up with a few Stricklake Headcanons: 

Unbeknownst to Strickler, he has QUITE the following of fans amongst the mothers (and a few fathers) of the Arcadia High School. He’s the “Hot Teacher” and they all like to gather together during school board meetings and gush about him.

And Barbara, after meeting him, finds herself rather…peeved at this?

And they are MASSIVELY annoyed when he starts going out with her. 

LIKEWISE, Barbara is seen as the Hot Single Mom amongst the staff of the high school. And Strickler doesn’t even TRY to hide his massive annoyance whenever one of his coworkers mentions this fact. The teacher’s lounge has miraculously managed to survive. 

If everything turns out happy for these two (WHICH ABSOLUTELY MEANS A WEDDING, LET ME HAVE THAT) I don’t see Strickler or Barbara taking a honeymoon, as she’s too busy at the hospital and he’s too busy with the school. 

So they decide to stay home, and Jim escapes to moves over to Toby’s for a bit because while he might have made his peace with this relationship, he is NOT going to risk accidentally…overhearing anything. 

One day he comes over because he forgot something (probably his whisk, little cooking nerd), and there’s his mom and his new stepdad/former enemy

sitting at the table sharing breakfast 

all cosy and romantic and snuggly and sappy

and Barbara is blushing and giggling and her glasses may be slipping off her nose

and Strickler’s hair is a mess and he’s looking at Barbara like she’s The Best Thing Ever

and they’re the textbook definition of Lame Parents/Total Newlyweds



(I may or may not be planning on doing a picture of this, full disclosure)

In this domestic future, Strickler and Jim are just going to be going around the living room having a knife fight (for practice) whilst Barbara nonchalantly studies some medical texts. "Jim, honey, no swinging from the lamp”

“Walter, you’re the one who wanted to buy that rug, you’re gonna be the one replacing it if it gets stabbed.”

Their first child is a tiny little girl with Barbara’s hair and Stickler’s eyes, and Strickler, history nerd and besotted First Time Father, insists on naming her Cassandra, after the infamous prophetess of Troy, as no one would have ever predicted that such a child could be, one born of a Human and a Changeling and loved by both. 

(It also happens to be, Strickler confides to Barbara and Barbara alone, the name of the woman who raised him. He…has fond memories of her, and would see their child carry on that name). 

The storm puts its mouth to the house
and blows to produce a note.
I sleep uneasily, turn, with shut eyes
read the storm’s text.

But the child’s eyes are large in the dark
and for the child the storm howls.
Both are fond of lamps that swing.
Both are halfway toward speech.

The storm has childish hands and wings.
The Caravan bolts toward Lapland.
And the house feels its own constellation of nails
holding the walls together.

The night is calm over our floor
(where all expired footsteps
rest like sunk leaves in a pond)
but outside the night is wild.

Over the world goes a graver storm.
It sets its mouth to our soul
and blows to produce a note. We dread
the storm will blow us empty.

Tomas Tranströmer, “A Winter Night,” trans. Robin Fulton

eternalsunshineofajumbledmind  asked:

You're a lovely writer so I know you will do well with this <3. I just want a Yoongi x Reader smut with fluff ending with the Dom (Yoongi) and Sub (Reader), but not with Daddy kink. I'm comfortable with Oppa or even Appa, also I adore the little pet names Princess and Baby Girl cause ugh and his husky gruff voice saying those names would end me. As far as plot goes it could just be something like your Oh Baby cause I love the gang related stories and gangster Yoongi is everything to me. Much Luv

Since you mention Oh Baby I kind of just made this based off of it?? Like…a little Yoongi side adventure lol. So, hopefully you like it. I tried to make the ending fluffy best I could xD

Even though Yoongi has never met you he knows your face—your profile saved in a hidden folder within the depths of his phone. And that’s why when he walks into the busy pub he spots you right away. However, he has to admit that you are definitely different from the long haired heir he’s been looking into.

Standing behind the bar with your short locks, smile on your face and friendlily chatting away with a few customers, no one would be able to tell that you’re the daughter of a multi-million dollar companies lying CEO. But even so your pretty face is still the same, so Yoongi knows right where to go as he enters the establishment, starting towards the bar.

He seats himself on a shiny stool and folds his arms onto the countertop, watching you from the corner of his eye even as a different waitress walks up and asks him if he wants anything. You’re quick as you flit around the pub, delivering drinks and meals and flashing bright smiles. Other men stare at you when you turn your back, but that’s honestly none of Yoongi’s concern. He’s only here to use you as bait—and if you don’t comply, perhaps kill you, but that’s all.

“Hey, ready for your bill?” a voice says after a while, Yoongi having zoned into space, and when he looks up there you are, standing right in front of him. You look tired yet energized at the same time, your short hair mussed and a kind smile on your face.

“It depends,” Yoongi responds, falling into a character as he smirks at you, holding his chin in his palm. “If I pay my bill now, is there any chance you’d be willing to leave with me?”

Surprised at the proposition, you frown and swing your rag over your shoulder.

“Leave with you—are you thinking I’m some sort of prostitute or something?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Did I ever say that? I’m just wondering when you get off your shift. You caught my eye when I walked in, and I thought maybe you’d be up for a little company after your shift, that’s all. I’m not a pimp after a new catch, I’m just a casual male admiring…well, you.”

“Ahhhhh, I see,” you muse, rolling your eyes. It’s not often you give into your want to take a male up on an offer like this, but tonight you’re feeling a bit daring. And Yoongi seems like a pretty genuine guy anyway.

“I actually get off in 10,” you say, placing his bill down and slyly waving over your shoulder as you start away. “If you’re still interested meet me out back.”

Chuckling, Yoongi grabs his wallet immediately.

A little over ten minutes later, Yoongi finds himself leaning against the alley wall out back. It’s cold out, his breath fanning in front of him, but he barely feels it. He’s too used to being out on tasks like this for Namjoon anyway—nothing really phases him, and definitely not the cold.

“Hey, you actually waited up,” you say in surprise as you shuffle out the backdoor, scarf tight around your neck. Yoongi grins.

“Of course I waited up—you thought I’d ditch you?”

You shrug, hiding a smile behind the fabric of your scarf. “Maybe. It’s happened before.”

“Really? Then those other guys are stupid,” Yoongi plays along, following close beside you as you both exit the alley way and step out into the street. “So, where to?”

“Oh, I…thought you probably would just want to come back to my place,” you say, blinking innocently. Yoongi raises his eyebrows in surprise, not having expected the invitation, but hey—this makes it much easier for him. “—I mean, unless you wanted to go somewhere else–?”

“No, your place is fine,” he smiles, waiting for you to lead the way. “Let’s just get inside before we both freeze, yeah?”

“I suppose you’re right,” you agree with a small laugh, and gently tug him in the direction of your apartment. Yoongi keeps pace beside you, light conversation flitting between you both as you walk a few blocks to your apartment. Once there, you lead Yoongi up the stairs, and he waits patiently as you find your keys and unlock the door, inviting him inside.

He watches your back as he steps in after you, taking in the room and making sure this isn’t some kind of reverse strategy you have planned. He doubts that as someone who is aware of her father’s status as a wanted man, and who has been involved in gang activity most of her life, you’re someone who is just going to trust a strange man and invite him home without being suspicious. But…after surveying the area, Yoongi doesn’t spot any guns or knives, nor does he sense any irregular activity from you, so he licks his lips and gets ready to make his move.

“Come sit down!” you call from the living room, plopping onto the couch and waving Yoongi over. Slipping off his shoes, Yoongi pads into the room as you continue, saying, “There’s some booze in the kitchen if you’re thirsty. And of course water is available too.”

Grunting quietly in affirmation, Yoongi doesn’t bother making a pit stop, and heads right to the couch where you’re seated, parking himself at the other end, his body slightly tense as his instincts begin to kick into gear. However, just as he’s about to make his move he looks up at you and pauses.

You’re staring at him tiredly, body completely relaxed and open, a knowing light in your eyes. “Who sent you?”

“…Namjoon,” Yoongi answers after a moment of hesitation, eyes narrowed in confusion, and you laugh quietly.

“Namjoon, huh? Haven’t heard that name since I moved out of the city…What’s he want with me?”

“Your father partnered with him and didn’t give him his share of the profits. Now we can’t find him.”

“Ah…you want me as ransom? Or—what?—dead as some kind of revenge?”

“…why are you here?” Yoongi questions instead, avoiding the answer. For some reason you’re now much more intriguing to him, sitting here, accepting your fate as if your life means nothing. “Did you run knowing someone would come after you?”

“I didn’t run from you or any other angry gang for that matter,” you sigh, standing and walking into the kitchen. Yoongi watches your back as you scavenge for a glass and fill it half way high with vodka and ice. “I ran from my dad.”

“Your father…?”

“I never wanted to be born into the mafia business. I got thrown in. But that’s how it usually happens, right? Well…I didn’t want to be around it anymore and packed up and left. My dad let me go after I threw a glass vase at his head…but…I wanted out. I’m actually surprised you even found me,” you muse, returning to the living room and standing beside the couch. “Not many people knew I jumped ship.”

“Well,” Yoongi shrugs, pushing to his feet as well. “I get around a lot.”

“So it seems,” you laugh, taking another long sip from your drink. Yoongi watches you, still frowning, and his hand inches towards his gun.

“Oh, are we doing this the hard way?” you question, pausing, and Yoongi shrugs.

“It’s up to you, I suppose.”

“Well…alright then–!” you grit, whipping your still full glass at Yoongi. Instantly the black haired male reaches for his gun, but your glass hits him square in the hand and knocks it away before he can grab it. Cursing, Yoongi glances up to check your position only to find you coming right at him.

“Fuck–,” he curses when you kick his side, your hand darting for his gun. Grunting, he immediately reaches over and grabs your leg, grounding himself and using the position to throw you away from him. However, as you tumble onto the ground, knocking into the nearby lamp, Yoongi’s gun falls with you, your hand having managed to snag it before he’d tossed you.

“Goddammit,” he seethes, lunging for it, and knowing that you won’t beat him there you quickly grab your now broken lamp and swing it at him. It hits him in the shoulder, knocking him into the wall, and you scramble to your feet, darting into your bedroom.

Breathing angrily, Yoongi finally manages to get to his gun and picks it up, finger already poised on the trigger as he kicks open your locked bedroom door. Instantly his eyes catch you near the window, attempting to make it out onto the fire escape. Growling, he starts forward and grabs you by the back of your shirt, flinging you backwards. You gasp, landing on the mattress roughly, and find yourself pinned down beneath Yoongi before you can move, his gun placed firmly on the center of your forehead.

“What the fuck?!” he breathes, shoulder aching, breathing ragged. Your heart is hammering in your chest too.

“You chose to do it this way…”


“Are you gonna kill me now?” you gulp, trying to put on a brave face, but even so tears are building in your eyes. Yoongi takes notice, his grip on the trigger loosening a little.

“I didn’t come here to kill you.”

“Well…could you just do it anyway? I…I’m tired of this,” you sob, bringing an arm up to shield your eyes. “I don’t want to have to live like this. I cut my hair, I have no real family–! Just fucking shoot me and end it–!”

“Hey, wait—”

“And even if I think I’m happy I remember that I could possibly be killed because of shit I didn’t even do! Just shoot me and—”

“Oh, goddammit,” Yoongi sighs, holstering his gun and then reaching his hands down to cup your face. You’re still rambling about wanted to die even as he leans down and smashes his lips against yours, making you shut up instantly.

“I’m not here to fucking kill you, alright? Chill out for one second, holy shit…,” he curses, pulling back with a scowl, and you blink at him, mind suddenly quiet.

“D-Did you just kiss me…?”

“It seemed like the only way you would shut u—mphm!” Yoongi ends in surprise as you grab him and pull him in for another kiss. A part of Yoongi tells him to shove you away and just complete his task in coming here, but the alcohol he consumed earlier at the bar, along with the adrenaline from your brief struggle with him has him thinking differently, and he quickly responds.

The memory of your recent fight seemingly forgot, you roll your body against his, moaning into his mouth, and Yoongi grunts, digging his hand into your short locks and tugging your head back.

“What happened to that long hair of yours, huh princess?”

“New place, new me,” you respond breathlessly, checks flushes and outfit disheveled. Snorting amusedly, Yoongi quickly makes work of your button-up blouse, ripping it clean open, and you gasp as a button flies away.


“You chose to do it this way,” he says, mocking what you told him earlier, and you roll your eyes, dragging him in for another round of kisses to get your mind off of it. You know you’re not supposed to be doing this with Yoongi—especially knowing that he’s here for mafia reasons—but you don’t want to think about it. You just want something to take your mind off of everything shitty going on in your life—and Yoongi’s lips on yours, his hands roaming over your naked sides, seems to be the answer.

Moaning around his tongue, Yoongi’s hands snaking around your back and working at your bra, you slide your hand down his clothed torso and begin to palm him through his jeans. He grunts and instinctively grinds his hips downward, his hands immediately flying to your breasts the minute your bra falls away.

You gasp, back arching as he fondles you, and Yoongi watches your reaction with heated eyes, tongue darting out to lick his lips as his dick begins to strain painful within the confines of his jeans. Cursing, he hurries to undo your pants, and you lift your hips off the bed to help him as he tugs your jeans and underwear down, tossing them on the floor.

“Well this hardly seems fair,” you comment, noticing that Yoongi is still fully dressed, and with a roll of his eyes Yoongi wrestles his shirt over his head. Eyes locked onto his pale skin, a few scars jumping out here and there, you reach forward and start on his belt. Yoongi watches you, hunger in his gaze as he takes in your naked body. He never would have imagined when he’d seen you at the beginning of the night that he’d be here now—utterly captivated by your curves and smooth skin—but he can’t say he minds.

“Oppa,” you whine, knocking Yoongi out of his admiration. He notices that you’re struggling to shuck him of his pants, and with a small roll of his eyes Yoongi scoots off the bed and finishes undressing himself. When he turns back to you he finds that you’re staring at him, fingers already dipping between your folds, head thrown back and cheeks flushed.

“Shit,” he breathes, unable to hold back, and pounces immediately. Climbing atop you, he takes one of your legs and lifts it so it’s propped on his shoulder. You gasp in slight surprise as you roll onto your side, Yoongi gripping your hips and dragging you down towards him as he positions himself at your entrance.

“Oh god,” you breath when his tip flicks over your clit, his dick becoming coated in your wetness, and with a heavy sigh Yoongi pushes into you. He inches slowly, knowing in the back of his mind how fast this is all moving, and is sure to watch your face as he stretches you open.

Head thrown back, you bite your lips, but don’t feel pain, just the strain of your walls, but you’re already so wet for Yoongi that he bottoms out fairly easily. Breathing, you glance up to Yoongi, chest rising and falling gently, and when your eyes meet and understanding silently passes between the both of you, Yoongi pulls out and rocks forward.

That starts it all, Yoongi’s rhythm gradually increasing as he watches your chest bounce with each of his thrusts, each little gasp and moan that sneaks past your lips turning him on even more.

“O-Oppa,” you keen, voice breathy and wanton, and Yoongi grunts in reply, reaching a hand forward and taking a handful of your breast. He rolls your nipple between his fingers, loving the way your pussy clenches around him in response.

“Fuck–!” he curses, feeling his release nearing, and by the way you’ve started to bite your lips, sound caught in your throat, he can tell that you’re close too.

“Dammit princess come for me,” he growls, grinding his hips especially hard. “You know you want to—you’re so fucking wet for my cock.”

“Oh my g-god,” you cry, gripping the sheets as Yoongi slides his hand up over your breast and tightens his fingers around your neck. The pressure combined with the dark look in Yoongi’s eyes, sweat beading on his brow, causes the pool of pleasure in your gut to overflow.

“Shit, oppa!” you scream, back aching as you come around him, and Yoongi’s hands immediately fly to your hips. He slams you down onto him a few times, the tightness of your heat making it hard for him to keep going, but after a few more thrust he reaches his bliss as well.

“Fuck…,” he breathes tiredly, pulling out a second too late, his cum painting your thighs and lower stomach. You watch him with half-lidded eyes as he breathes heavily, chest heaving and his grip on your hips loosening. Grunt quickly, you lower your leg from his shoulder and then roll to the side of the bed, gently pushing to your feet.

“Wait here,” you say quietly, limping a little as you start towards the bathroom. “I’ll get a towel.”

Silent, Yoongi watches you go, a large part of him urging him to grab his clothes, get dressed, and jump out the window before you get back. That’s what he should do—he shouldn’t even be here right now. He should’ve killed you and been on his way, or interrogated you and be heading back to report, but here he is, still obediently sitting on your mattress, evidence of what he just did with you in the air.

“Here,” you say, stepping back into the room. Yoongi catches the damp towel you toss at him, eyes raking over the long t-shirt that now covers your body, a pair of blue panties peeking out from beneath the hem.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, cleaning himself off, and paused when he sees something move out of the corner of his eye. Looking back towards you, he blinks in surprise at seeing his gun in your hand, but the barrel is turned towards you, the trigger available for him to pull.

“…what are you doing?”

“You’re going to kill me, right?” you respond innocently, sad smile tugging at your lips. “Here’s your chance. I’m too tired to put of a fight anymore.”

Yoongi stares at you incredulously for a few seconds before he reaches forward and grabs the gun, pulling it away from you.

“Aish. Dumb woman,” he grumbles, the gun tight in his hand as he stands and shoves you towards the bed. Surprised, you fall against the sheets, watching him with innocent eyes as he moves over to his clothes and haphazardly dresses himself.

Once put together, his gun secured at his side once again, he turns to face you and grabs the messy sheets, throwing them over you.

“Go to bed.”

“I…what?” you respond stupidly, eyebrows raised. Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“Go to bed, princess,” he repeats, staring towards the door, and you call after him.

“W-Wait! I…but you came here for me, right?! What are you going to do now–?”

“That’s for me to worry about, not you,” he responds, turning back to face you, a stern look in his eyes. Immediately you bite your lips, feeling regretful and apologetic all of the sudden, and Yoongi sighs. Turning, he makes his way back to you and cups your cheeks with his hands, dragging you into a gentle kiss.

“Sleep. Forget this happened. I was never here,” he says against your lips, eyes locked, and you nod slowly. Satisfied, Yoongi kisses your forehead before turning away, but, once again, he doesn’t get too far. Your hand gripping his wrist stops him.

“Thank you…,” you say quietly, nothing else needing to be said, and without turning back to look at you—without saying anything—Yoongi slips out of your grip and leaves. He walks straight out of your apartment without looking back, knowing that if he had hesitated even a moment longer, he wouldn’t want to leave. And he can’t be like that—he’s has things to do—and that never should have happened anyway.

Yo, you get the girl?” Kidoh’s curious voice speaks into his ear as he gets into his car, cellphone in his hand as he drives away from the city. Yoongi knows what he should answer, but he can’t find it in himself to think about you for another second.

So, he says, “no—I couldn’t find her,” and leaves it at that.

Had this idea,.. was so trippy, I had to write it XD


Amy walked along the streets of the abandoned, her hammer close, up by her shoulder, as she cautiously looked around.

Sonic turned back, “Amy?”

Her eyes shot open, joy filling her at even just hearing his voice again, “Sonic!”

Suddenly, right as she turned around to see him, Metal Sonic burst from around the corner, taking Sonic down.

“Sonic..!” Amy outstretched a hand as she saw Metal gripping his face, just below his muzzle, propelling him upwards on the side of a skyscraper.

Amy quickly took action, rushing to the top of the roofs, but they were still locked in heated battled when she got there.

Sonic and Metal were a few skyscrapers away, also battling at light speeds uptop… how was she going to reach them?

She looked around, before below her, her feet shuffling back as some pieces of the tall buildings crumbled off the sides as she came close to it.

This apocalyptic world… she couldn’t imagine fighting any more for it without Sonic…

She took a gulp,… and moved back.

With a dash, a jump, a spring in her step-!

A leap of faith.

She made it! Miraculously rolling as she got to the other side.

Her eyes blinked while she lay on her side, amazed at her luck, before looking back behind her.

It was no small fleet.

Taking courage from that first jump, she narrowed her eyes and continued on, trying to make her way to Sonic.

She was advancing well, however…


Amy leaped as she saw Sonic’s frame being knocked off, his body falling her way, his back to her eyes…

She fell with the blue hero, before grabbing his back as they fell, the wind lashing against their hides as they rapidly sped to the ground.

She could barely squint her eyelids shut under the pressure, having them slightly still open, watering from the dryness consuming them by the air as she fell.

“Sooniiicc!!” she called out, terrifyed this could be the end.

Sonic shook his head a minute, his eyes also being raised by the same force of wind, before looking down, and over, and all around him before seeing Amy.

“Woah!” He suddenly snapped out of having the wind knocked out of him and powered up, the chaos emeralds spiraling around him.

Amy screamed a moment… before the camera let them fall out of view.

Was it too late?

Slowly, a glowing figure, holding Amy in his arms rose back into sight.

Sonic glared up at Metal Sonic.

Metal Sonic, having watched the whole scene, rose a metallic hand up, robotically flinching each finger before gripping them tightly together.

Sonic’s face held a muted growl, his grimace clearly showing the anger he was feeling.

“Stay here, Amy.” Sonic slowly lowered himself to the ground, a serious look on his face as he held himself with great power. The aura of the chaos emearlds was hard to not feel, as Amy looked worried, but watched him nod and then speed off after Metal Sonic.

Amy stepped forward, solemnly….

Something in the shadows opened their glowing red eyes…

Sonic returned to see Amy looked slightly in a daze, gripping her head.

“Amy?” He walked over to her.

Startled, as if not really recognizing the name, Amy turned back. “..M…My name?”

“Uhh..” Sonic made a kinda awkward face, “Yeah.” he smiled, thinking her usually weird anyway.

“Come on, time to head back.” He gestured for her to come toward him, standing to her side and about to carry her home.

It was a normal thing for them, at least, for him to move fast and just hold her while he traveled.

She seemed… disoriented, and looked around a moment, before nodding to the ground. “That’s right… Sonic… Sonic is my hero.” she turned back to him, as he raised an eyebrow, a little creeped out as he tilted his head to her, then eyed the spot of ground she was talkin’ too.

He chuckled nervously, walking over to her instead. “O-o-okay, Amy. I think the heat’s gotten to your head.” He scooped her up, startling her a moment before situating her in his arms with a few bobs up, and then smiled down to her.

“You’ll be fine once we get you something to eat.” he winked, and sped off.

Amy continued along in the game, a little odd at first, since it seemed like everyone had to re-explain to her things she should already know. Tails was the first to question if Amy had hit her head on something, and how strange it was she was spending more time talking to Shadow then Sonic, and how she barely smiled, but almost always seemed confused on things.

Out on a mission, Amy was fighting before recognizing a street she knew.

Squinting her eyes to it, she heard muffled screams in her head, as sudden traumatizing flashes of memory screeched across her mind. Head shaking, mouth covered, something pulling her away, dragging her with glowing red eyes..

Sonic had never fully caught up to Metal Sonic…

At this point, Amy had sought knowledge and understanding from Shadow on most occasions, so by rare chance, they seemed to get along.

Because of this new found abnormality, Shadow stopped his attack to see her gripping her head, shaking it about, her hammer dropped to the ground.

N…nnn…..nugh!” she opened her eyes.

They shook with such fear.

The figure had dragged her into a shed, where she faintly remembers her cries for help, fighting as if for her life.

The figure definitely was Metal Sonic, she could now see the swinging of the lamp, him driving something into her…

Augh!” she was pulled towards the memory, taking off just before…

Metal Amy…

She stopped her dead in her tracks, and swung a robotic hammer out towads her.

“Erk!” Amy held in a frustrated grunt, but she still bit down hard on her teeth, about to fight her before Shadow intervened, slamming a kick like a rocket into the robot’s side.

“Run.” he swished an arm at her, and she obeyed, racing off.

Later, Amy felt distinct impressions, and convinced Sonic to follow her instincts into another area.

It was an ambush, and her whole heart dropped as she had felt so sure to come to this place…

That’s when more memories flooded her mind…


Electrical shocks…

Metal plates all over her body…

She gripped her head again.

The teams struggled against the gorilla warfare of the ambush by Eggman’s forces, but Sonic and Shadow saw Amy leaving.

At this point, Sonic didn’t want to believe betrayal, as Tails may have suggested from suspicions, even though his heart told him he was wrong… something just wasn’t right with Amy…

Coming to that same street… Amy raced to the building’s alleyway, and continued as her memories instructed her.

Shadow, feeling a strange connection with her, skated as fast as he could to trail her.

“She’s different.” he stated, as Sonic’s anger at his new interest in her well-being seemed to come out more and more.

Sonic was clearly irked by this…

“I know she’s been acting a little weird lately but-” Sonic ran along beside him, still wanting to trust Amy.

“Not weird… off.” Shadow narrowed his eyes. “Something’s not right. She’s being triggered.”

“Triggered? Like.. post-trauma triggered?”


Shadow sped up.

“Hey! Hold on a second!” Sonic charged even further away from Shadow, not caring to be sneaky like he was.

He wanted answers from Amy herself now… but she had stopped and fell as she opened a shed behind everything, seeing wires hang down…

She knew.

She dropped to her knees, then to her hands, holding herself up as she shook with disbelief.

The two hedgehogs stopped, looking to her and then to each other.

“Amy…” Shadow finally spoke up.

“Did you lead us to that ambush?”

“I’m… I’m not…” Amy’s whole body trembled, as she held herself.

She was awakened in water.

She was programmed to deceive.

She was a clone.

“You’re real Amy..” after explaining some things about Metal Sonic… she slowly got up, turning around to the two, seeing their shocked and horrified faces.

Is trapped inside Metal Amy’s armor..”

“No…” Sonic’s eyes shook.

“NOOO!!” he slammed his fists to the ground,.. quite a few times, realizing what had truly happened.

He didn’t move his head up, but ducked it further down as Shadow looked away, his eyes scanning the surface of the ground, as if thinking this through.

“She’s robotized..?”


Sonic sighed in relief, his shoulders lowering, before falling to his own knees.

“Where is she..?”

“As I’ve stated, her body is literally surrounded by the armor that makes up Metal Amy. Metal’s crew joke at taking away something precious to you.. and having you fight your friend without even knowing you’re hurting her.” Her words were painful to say. Remembering her true function… her true lie.

She turned her head away, truly having thought she cared about him like she was the real Amy…

“I’m so sorry, Sonic… I couldn’t remember until now… when my objective was complete.” she tightened her fist.

Shadow looked back to her, sensing some kinship almost to her.

He knew how it feel..

To discovers ones abominable design for their existence.

Sonic got the strength to stand again, not looking back at Amy’s clone.

“I’m going to save her. Thank you.” he nodded, without giving her even a passing glance, and turned around, heading off to save his true friend…

In utter agony… the Clone fell to her knees, bursting out into tears at her betrayal, something she had no idea was built inside her.

She was a danger to the man she thought she loved.

She was a threat to her team she considered her family.

Just like with Sonic’s disregard of her now… she would be shunned by her friends, abandoned now that they had the real Amy returned to them.

In her grief and misery at the consequences to follow… she hadn’t heard the footsteps… of a sympathetic creation walk up in front of her.

“Get up.”

His harsh tone broke her from her solitude, and she removed her hands, catching her tears as they had previously pushed up against her bleak face, and looked to him with a child’s innocence.

He held out a hand to her.

…He said something… only one other being had ever told him.. that truly gave him any comfort in this miserable existence.

“You are not monster.”

Maria’s words were spoken once more in Shadow’s life, but this time.. it was him to a stranger… a clone… like he possibly was.

He held her stare a moment.

She hesitated… lifting her hand up to his.

“You won’t reject me..? Although I am not your friend..?”

“It doesn’t matter what you are, now.. You are a creature without a purpose. There’s no need to feel you’ll harm anything now.”

it was logical, sound…. but it gave her great comfort.

She took his hand, as he helped her up, and she cried on him, as he held her with a steady frown, looking straight ahead…

He knew this misery all too well… And closed his eyes, accepting that at least for now… he wasn’t alone.

Amy was freed of her metallic prison, but like Clone Amy had thought, the team was weirded out about ‘two’ of her running around.

Amy didn’t know what to think of her, having no idea about her, but was still willing to show kindness.,, although cautiously, as others had instructed her.

Shadow defended the clone, keeping her close to him, never out of sight, and mentoring her in life and battle.

She learned to not trust anyone, that her memories were not her own, to make her own, and that her lingering feelings for Sonic…

She stared at him from a distance.

“Can never be reciprocated.”

Shadow stated the obvious, as she watched her real self laughing and speaking with him, the joy in his eyes… the joy she’ll never know again.

She walked back, backwards to grip Shadow’s arm.

He looked to the gesture, oddly with a bit of skepticism, before ‘hmph’ing and leading her away.

It was all the comfort she’ll ever know.

Her and Amy shared one final glance, the whole air and moment stood still… a slow recognition of some faint sisterhood that could have been…

Then… clone Amy turned away. She denied herself of that feeling. She denied herself of Sonic and his team, her once beloved friends.

She walked with Shadow… the only being resembling any possible sympathy and future for her.

This was the start… of a tragic… but beautiful fable.

She leaned to rest on Shadow’s shoulder, as he looked down, before his eyes slightly softened, turning towards the sunset.

She closed her eyes, feeling the moisture in the air nip at her nose before he spoke.

“I suppose this means you’ll stay with me.”

Till this moment, she hadn’t realized he couldn’t tell.

She smiled, sweetly to him. “If my face does not bother you… then I will.”

He looked back at her, his eyes scanning her features.

He then sharply looked away, moving on as her grip weakened and she let him walk away.

As he did so, she could hear him quietly state, “No.

She nodded, and carried on trailing after him.

(I wonder… if Silver is the creation of clone Amy and Shadow’s love child..? *SEGA proceeds to slap me three times* I’M SORRY </3 kept it way canon tho, I mean, COME ON!)

Things that make me weak in my knees:

- Percival and Theseus. Not just pen pals, not just formidable coworkers exchanging letters from one shore of Atlantic to the other, but friends, in the highest sense of the word - friends forged in War and trenches and rain and blood dripping down necks slick with sweat. The kind of friends you can not see for nine years and when you do it’s like not a day has passed, the kind of friends who hugs you when you’re chocking on homesickness and shushes you like a mother would, and yes, the kind you sometimes slips in a cot with to hold on through the freezing France nights and press closer and closer until it’s just skin and dust-tasting lips and his hands searching yours as he pushes down, young hearts hammering like exploding grenades because I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna i won’t let you die.

- Percival looking all classy and polished, when they’re still off the front and spending evenings bragging around French clubs in their brand-new suits - imagine a younger Graves, still unrefined around the edges, raven-black hair, a lock perpetually falling on his eye, the uniform in pristine order and a modest elegance you just can’t fake - while Theseus is all laughs and curses and songs and perpetually in disarray, from the mop of auburn hair to the collar he never learnt to make. They’re a study in contrast, the Yankee dandy and the Brit oaf. Appearances can be tricky, though. Because actually it’s Theseus the more straight-forward, the brash, combat-minded Gryffindor, made to make plans on a chart and guide man and get into fights and get into beds; and Percival is the pensive Horned Serpent, quiet and observing and still feeling too old for his body, curling up on his cot at the training camp with his pile of books. There’s a lot of books around Percival Graves - Theseus learns it the hard way, finding his bed surrounded with neat stacks of volumes and having to resort to phisically beg him to sneak out and do something, anything Percival - and Magical Criminology of Goblin Organizations, really? Is this even a real subject? 

But the world is enamoured with the dandy and the oaf, and oh, how they like to encourage it. Percival purposefully making his movements languid when lifting his glass of brandy at the bar, putting on cufflinks carved in jade and painting cat-like smiles on his face; Theseus exaggerating his clumsy stumbling and hiding the fierce intelligence of his green-grey eyes behind his bushy beard. 

If only they know their New York dandy is the fusspot mother lamenting I don’t fold my socks the right way.

Would you shut the fuck up, Scamander.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I have a feeling that Valkyon doesn't know very well how attractive he is... Like when he was so surprised when Gardienne told he is cute, or when he said he is not interesting. Do you think it too? How do you think it would be if Gardienne was first in love with Nevra, and later fall madly in love for him? (Sorry, English isn't my first language...)

*sneaks into Tumblr* <.< || >.> || <.<

…I really shouldn’t be here this week. But a lucky break at work today gave me a couple of hours to finish this piece.

Anyway, dear Anon., Valkyon is a cutie precisely because he’s oblivious to his own charms. That, and he always carries an 80% chance of shooting himself in the foot whenever someone asks him out for a drink.

Example. *throws the manuscript to the ground and bolts*  


It had been a cold Yule and the coming year didn’t look like an improvement. 

Already, the streets were frozen from two back-to-back bouts of chill rain that chose exactly the wrong month to fall on El, their brief career ending in a slick double layer of ice over cobblestone and brick, marbling the tessellated surfaces like candy glaze. Sweet enough to result in seventeen accidents so far from the citizenry: two-legged, four-legged, and on wheels. Next year would be seeing a lot of people with odd-numbered legs.  

Valkyon would know. His people had to haul away all the injured and the worse off this week, including themselves. In fact, he was taking care of Accident Number Seventeen right now.  

“Does your ankle still hurt?” the Obsidian Guard commander asked the woman he was carrying, currently wrapped double in his arms.

“Not really. I can’t feel much anymore,” his corporal replied. From inside the folds of his cloak, she experimentally wagged her ankle, wrapped in a soggy, makeshift splint made mostly out of Valkyon’s hat, her scarf, firewood, and several handfuls of fresh ice that he had broken from the road outside the tavern. She didn’t so much as flinch.      

“Good. Because it won’t be easy getting over that last wall.”

The Guardian twisted and peeked over her shoulder at the construct in question looming out of the gloom: a pale, man-high stone wall, about as battered by freezing rain as the street that took her ankle. And with no doorway to speak of, from where they were coming from. Her face sagged. “…Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to sneak back through the gardens.”

“You were concerned though about running into Nevra at the foyer,” Valkyon reminded her.

He meant no offense—he rarely did when refreshing someone’s memory— but her face promptly turned a shade darker, visible even in the deep shadows of HQ’s apple orchard, where the black branches split apart the cold stars overhead like webs of cracks in the sky.

Biting his tongue, Valkyon’s eyes flickered away from her expression, and fell on one spot on the wall ahead. Soon he added, more carefully, “Though I didn’t say it would be impossible to get past that wall. Just not easy. Can I put you down for a moment?”  

Keep reading

the fascinating variations of slappy the dummy
  • book slappy: thank you for waking me up, my dear. now, you will obey my every command, are we clear?
  • tv slappy: *loudly singing rockabilly music while swinging from a ceiling lamp*
  • movie slappy: what's up you memes i'm here to ruin everything
Jingle All The Way (for OshiFallen)

@oshifallen  @mlsecretsanta

Christmas shopping in Paris was always a three ring circus, but Hawkmoth’s magical temper tantrums had turned holiday shopping into a warzone.

Which is why Alya wanted to get her Christmas shopping done the first weekend of December. Marinette’s gift was in the mail, Adrien’s present had arrived before July, but her boyfriend’s dream set of headphones went on sale December 1st and not an hour sooner. She figured she could beat the crowds, slide into the local electronic store, and be out with Nino’s new headphones before the crowds started to resemble scenes from a Romero movie.

Shopping: done. Gift: acquired. Girlfriend status: legendary.

What she didn’t count on was wave after wave of akuma dedicated to making her holiday season miserable.

Keep reading

Who do you trust when you can’t even trust yourself?


I am falling, rushing down a plain of snow and ice and rock, gaining speed with every second, and scrabbling frantically, trying to hold on to something.  The flash of an ice axe comes into view as I swing it up from where I’ve unhitched it from the loop on my harness, and I hook it hard into the ice, but it doesn’t catch.  Instead the weight of my body makes it jerk out of my grip and clatter down beside me to vanish from sight.  The wind howls past my ears, snow sprays into my face, and before it blinds me I see the bright, bluish circle of a head lamp swinging above me.  In the next second the ground disappears, as does the light, and my legs angle steeply down.  The edge of the cliff crushes my ribs and tears my coat as I slip over, dangling into oblivion as I flail and desperately try to grab something - anything - a rope, a cam -  

The deafening sound of scraping and sliding are silenced.  Then, I hear my name being screamed into the frozen air, and it echoes back to me in terror. 

There is nothing under my feet but blackness, and it rushes up to meet me before it swallows me whole.

keycarrots  asked:

Hey, I saw that you were doing some small animated gifs, so I thought that maybe a you do a small gif of the lamp? Maybe you can do the part when he's dancing up and down on the desk? Since it seems the most simple one out of all the others haha!

Thank you for the suggestion! Sorry the animation isn’t the smoothest.

You can have a dream about losing your friends. You can have a dream about B U R N I N G  your friends!


RISKY BUSINESSElectro swing-hoppy music for dastardly night owls.

Lone Digger - Caravan Palace | Stick Up Kid - C@ in the H@ | Mr Wiseguy - C@ in the H@ | Steampunk - SpekrFreks & MelleeFresh | Mafia - K1NE |   Out Of My Mind - Jamie Berry | Shoot Him Down! - Alice Francis | All Night - Parov Stelar | Midnight - Swingrowers 

With a recycled title from…2009, and shiny cover art, Lamp finally has his own 8Tracks mix! Upbeat swingy tunes for this garbage kid abound! [LISTEN]