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.
  • *raining outside Hufflepuff's house*
  • Hufflepuff: Awe man, its raining outside.
  • Gryffindor: I guess we can't have that picnic.
  • Hufflepuff: What are we going to do?
  • *Slytherin and Ravenclaw run out into rain and start swinging on the lamp post*
  • Hufflepuff and Gryffindor: ...
  • Gryffindor: What,... what was that?
  • Hufflepuff: Maybe we shouldn't have given them coffee this morning,...
  • Hufflepuff: ...
  • Gryffindor: ...
  • Hufflepuff: Wanna join them?
  • Gryffindor: ... Hell yes
  • *Gryffindor and Hufflepuff runs out and joins Slytherin and Ravenclaw*
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

Chapter 4: I want you to want me because I’m me // Shawn Mendes

Prologue: https://welldamnshawn.tumblr.com/post/165826891058/6-minutes-left-prologue-shawn-mendes

Chapter 1: https://welldamnshawn.tumblr.com/post/165861136790/chapter-1-youre-going-to-wish-wed-never-been

Chapter 2: https://welldamnshawn.tumblr.com/post/166035402061/chapter-2-why-did-you-come-here-shawn-mendes

Chapter 3: https://welldamnshawn.tumblr.com/post/166104883601/chapter-3-ill-take-my-chances-shawn-mendes

Author’s note: So there’s a little bit of swearing in this because Shawn gets mad

RecapIt’s silent, and my cheeks heat in embarrassment from my outburst. He grips my chin softly, forcing me to meet his hazel eyes. He’s close enough that I could kiss him if I wanted to. I hold my breath waiting for his response.

Leaning close enough that our noses brush he whispers, “I’ll take my chances”, then he’s gone and I’m left standing there wondering what the heck just happened.

“Ever since the rebellion at your school you’ve been acting strange.” My sister, Steph, breaks the silence in the car. It was our ‘sister bonding time’ that our Mother makes us do every 3 or so weeks. Today we were driving to the mall, grabbing some lunch and doing a little window shopping.

I stare out the window, the harshness of the grey buildings broken up by the flash of evergreen scrubs. 

“I’ve been a little distracted.” I tell her. I wasn’t ready to tell her yet that I had found my soulmate, and that he wasn’t keen on me.

“You know you can tell me. If something was bothering you, you can tell me.” She sounds so sincere and my gaze flicks to her. Even though she says this I feel like sometimes she just wouldn’t understand. We were polar opposites personality and look wise- except for the eyes. We both had the same wide blue eyes with a rim of gold surrounding the pupil. 

Steph’s ginger hair was in ringlets today, her blue eyes framed with long lashes. She was a mix of both my parents while I looked remarkably similar to our Dad. When I was younger I thought that she took all the beauty from our parents genes and I was stuck with the brains. 

“I just… I don’t want to talk about it right now because I feel like if I do, its just going to make it seem more real.” I flip the air con on, a stream of chilled air hitting my rosy cheeks. “And that’s what I’m trying to avoid. I don’t want it to be real.”

She hums, taking a left onto Marion Street. “It sounds like you need a break from everything.” 

“I do. I really, really do.” I laugh, tucking the strands of hair that fell in my face behind my ear.

“Jace invited me to go to the club with him tonight. I think you should come.” Jace was Steph’s soulmate. They had met when they were both 14 and had immediately formed a close relationship. Steph was now 20 and their 6 year bond was another reason why I believed so strongly in the soulmate system.

“Are you sure he wouldn’t mind me tagging along?” I ask hesitantly, fiddling with my seat belt.

“Of course not! Jace will understand that you need a serious pick-me-up from what ever quarter life crisis you’re going through.”

I laugh, Steph’s giggles accompanying my own. 

“One more thing before I agree to this.” I pause, meeting Steph’s blue iris’s and it looks like I’m looking at a replica of my own.

“What is it, little sis?” She says cheekily, slowing the car to a stop as red shines from the traffic lights. 

“You have to ask Mum if I can go tonight. I don’t want to face her wrath if she says no.” 

I had no clue what to wear. What if I wore the long sleeved dress and overheated? The maroon dress looked great on me but I had no shoes that went with it. Deciding to go with my gut, I wear the black sleeved dress, slipping some slightly heeled flats on as I go.

“Y/n, hurry up.” Steph calls, walking as fast as her heels could carry her, rushing to open the door where Jace had been ringing the doorbell for the past 5 minutes.

“I’m hurrying.” I snap at her, pressing a quick kiss to my mother’s cheek as I pass her, Dad was still at work.

“Have a fun time girls!” Mum shouts before we shut the door and I wave at her before closing and locking it.

“Thanks for not making me wait at all.” I hear Jace mumble to Steph, her girlish giggle making me want to run back inside and under my bed covers. I did not plan on being a third wheel tonight.

“Thanks for letting me join you guys.” I say to Jace, cutting off what ever conversation they were delving into.

“No problem Y/n.” Jace grins at me, and I could see why Steph was so obsessed with him. Tall with blonde curly locks, he was a stunner, and when he smiled, his whole face lit up. Together, they looked like they should be on the front page of every fashion magazine.

I get in the back seat, tuning out Steph and Jace’s loved up conversation and the car begins to move, the city becoming a blur.

We were let into the downtown club with no dramas. When Jace told me we were going to the South Side Club, I was surprised. It had a reputation for good liquor, loud bass and housing members of the libertas.

I didn’t say anything, didn’t mention that my soulmate was apart of the alleged rebellion that wanted to destroy everything I believed in. Maybe it was a good thing that my match didn’t want me. We were from two different worlds and a relationship between us would surely never work.

That thought alone fed the multiple drinks I sculled back. I didn’t count how many I had. All I knew was that the more I had, the less I thought of him. 

The more alcohol I consumed, the more I began to let loose. I was at the bar, on the dance floor, talking to the group of guys who looked like they had never seen a bar before- probably why they let me talk to them even after I had spilt my drink on one of them.

Someone was pulling me away from the granite counter top of the bar. I had sat down, starting up a conversation with the bartender who chuckled at my every second sentence. 

I groan, the flashing lights catching my eyes and I wince. 

“Come on Y/n, Jace and I are taking you home.” Steph’s comforting words fill my ears.

I walk beside her lazily. “I’m cool with that.” I murmur, resting my weight on her.

“How much did you drink? You smell like half the bar.” She wrinkles her nose and laughs, the sound pathetic even to me. We’re outside the club now, the cold wind nipping at my ankles. Jace has pulled the car around and he’s holding the door open as I climb into the back seat.

“No spewing in my car Missy,” Jace scolds gently. “Wait until you get home.”

I grin at him sheepishly, sending him a thumbs up I rest back into the seat and I close my eyes. Someone shakes me awake awhile later and I startle, Steph frowning down at me.

“God, Y/n you look smashed.” She helps me back out the car as its pulled up out front our house, slightly onto the front lawn. 

“I don’t feel smashed.” I giggle at her, clutching onto her arm.

“I’m going to Jace’s house so once I’ve let you in the front door I want you to go straight to your room, do you think you can manage that or do you want my help?” She sounds so strict and I salute her, nodding my head.

“I can do it boss.” I grin and she helps me up the front steps onto the small decking. Unlocking the door she holds it open for me and I lean on the wall, tailing my way into the dark house.

“Are you sure you will be okay?” Steph asks, worry in her tone.

“I’ll be okay Steph, Mum’s here and if I really need help I will go ask her.” I tell her, feeling a hint of sobriety. 

She looks at me skeptically and I shoo her, closing the door. I wait until I hear the car drive off before making my way to my room at the end of the hallway.

I grip the handle of the door, finding the small trip to the bedroom easier than I expected. When the door swings open, my lamps already on and the light stings my eyes.

“What the-” I don’t finish what I was saying, the sight of my soulmate sitting on my bed causes all my words to disappear. 

“Where the fuck where you?” He hisses at me, his eyes dark slits. Standing up, my Match marches over to me, the scent of his cologne wafting around me.

I hiccup, brushing past him leisurely. “Out.”

“It’s two O’clock in the fucking morning, I got here at 10 and I’ve been waiting 4 hours for you, wondering if something bad has happened to you, and all you can tell me is that you’ve been out?” He’s furious. Every word is coated with venom yet my mind finds no reason to take him seriously.

“I don’t care if you’ve been waiting. Why are you even here?” I groan, tugging off my shoes and placing them into my closet on the shoe stand.

“I was here to fucking talk about all that gooey shit you spilled out yesterday about soulmates.” He seethes, shutting the closet after me as I left it open. 

“Well I was busy, get over it.” I start to unzip the back of my dress when his hand stops my movement.

“What are you doing?” He breathes, and I shrug his hands off, my dress slipping slightly down my body.

“Changing into my pajamas, what does it look like?” I glare at him, forgetting that I was about to be nearly naked in front of my soulmate. I unzip it the rest of the way, my dress falling to the floor and I step out of it.

I open a dresser draw, my back to my match, and I take of my bra, chucking the large shirt over my head which falls halfway down my thighs. When I turn back to face him, he’s frozen, his eyes never leaving my figure.

He coughs, clearing his throat. “How much have you had to drink?” 

“Eh, a few.” I lie, tying my hair up in a bun.

He sighs, walking closer to me, stopping to see if I move away. I don’t.

“Where did you go tonight Y/n?” He asks me, a lot calmer then before.

“I don’t believe that’s any of your business Match.” I’ve riled him back up.

“Stop calling me that.” He demands me, his hands clenching.

“It’s not like I have anything else to call you.” I retort, closing the distance between us until I’m inches from him.

“What about calling me by my name?” He growls at me, his eyes black and the light illuminating the side of his face.

“I don’t know your name you dweeb.” I push his chest angrily, he doesn’t move an inch.

“How do you not know my name? I’m your fucking match.” His arms splay and I glare heatedly at him.

“I don’t know it because someone decided to skip the 20 questions stage of our relationship.”

“We’re not in a relationship!”

“If you don’t tell me your name then I’m not telling you where I was tonight, or who I was with.” My intoxicated mind speaks for me, providing me with words that will fuel the fight.

“What do you mean who you were with?” If its even possible, his anger heightens. 

“Sorry Match, but I can’t answer that.” I say smugly, crossing my arms.

“My names Shawn, now talk.” He spits at me, I was thankful my parents weren’t on the same floor as me or they surely would have heard us by now.

“Full name?” I question slyly and he takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before continuing.

“Shawn Mendes.”

“Good boy.” I praise him and he scowls at me.

“Fucking talk.”

“I was with my sister and her boyfriend at the South Side Club. I drank and danced and then they took me back home.” I explain to him.

“Of course you went there.” He says more to himself then to me. He turns away from me, rubbing his jaw lightly. “Did you see anyone wearing this jacket there?”

He points to the same jacket he was wearing the day I met him, the white Libertas phrase dim in this lighting.

“I can’t remember, I was too busy getting smashed.” I say dryly, and he rolls his eyes.

“I can tell, you smell like you had a bath in alcohol.”

I stare at him, watching as he picks up some trinkets off my bookcase, examining them, and then putting them back. It was weird to see my soulmate in my own room, where I spent my life. It was even stranger how easily he fitted into it.

“What are you doing here Shawn?” His name runs smoothly off my tongue and his shoulders tense as I say it.

“That’s not important right now. You’re drunk and you probably won’t even remember this tomorrow.” He says tonelessly, crossing the room to pull the bed sheets away for me to hop into bed. 

“Will you tell me tomorrow then?” I whisper, abiding and slipping under the covers.

“Maybe, you may not want to see me tomorrow.” He sounds tired and I finally notice the dark circles under his eyes. He moves the quilt so its covering me again and I snuggle into them further, letting him tuck me in.

“I’ll always want to see you, you’re my match.” I yawn, feeling my eyes flutter shut.

“I don’t want you to want me just because I’m your match.” He tells me quietly, flicking my light off and zipping his jacket up.

“Right, because you don’t want a soulmate.” I reply, feeling immensely tired after the night I had.

I’m not sure whether I had already started dreaming but I swear I heard Shawn say one last thing before he left.

“I want you to want me because I’m me not because you were told to.”

Originally posted by kdrauhl

Things I want to be true for Dapper Jack and/or “Jack Daniels”

  • Doesn’t talk much if at all, reacts to things as if he’s constantly in a silent film unless he breaks character
  • But out of nowhere he’ll pop out and stick his hat up in the air and just go “CHEERIO, OLD BEAN!” or something of the like
  • His pocketwatch always breaks and that sends him back and forth in time (Marvin always has to fix it for him)
  • Reacts to everything SO HAPPY BECAUSE PURE AF
  • Probably has similar to the mind of a child, like he doesn’t even care when he’s flung back in time because OH BOY OH WOW
  • Can’t sit still for the life of him unless he’s doing something with his hands (which is why his watch always breaks, he fiddles with it)
  • Doesn’t even really care about the threat Anti poses, he just comes up behind him and gives him a gentle punch to the shoulder, and when Anti actually goes on the attack, he just kinda dances out of the way because he’s certain they’re just playing together, kinda sees himself and Anti as best friends and this warms whatever’s left of Anti’s heart
  • Can make his surrounding area a silent film with a snap of his fingers (and this really pisses off Anti, but the other egos put up with him because HOW CAN YOU TURN DOWN THAT SMILE, HE’S JUST HAVING FUN OK)
  • Probably really likes the movie Bedknobs and Broomsticks (so he thinks he can help Marvin with his magic by turning himself into a rabbit, but it always wears off before Marvin is done so it always messes up the trick)
  • Has 20/20 vision, doesn’t really need the monocle but insists he does for “professionalism”
  • THE SMOLLEST GENTLEMAN BEAN, he doesn’t even remember when or how he got his lil ‘stache, it just appeared one day and he went with it
  • Has a small but special place in his heart for Broadway, he’s perfected his jazz square and can tap dance for hours without getting tired, swings around lamp-posts and clicks his heels in midair at every opportunity
  • His hat is like a part of him, he can throw it up in the air and he won’t even have to look where it’s going, he ALWAYS catches it
  • Super forgetful but he tries so hard so WE LOVE HIM ANYWAY

That’s just my thoughts, I couldn’t help myself even though I know there are a lot of other similar posts to this, feel free to suggest more if you want :3


The Doctor Blake Mysteries: Thoughts in the Middle of the Night

So, S6 on Channel 7 is set to open in 1963.  Does that mean that our beloved and somewhat maligned Blake House interiors will get an upgrade?  Will we be seeing some groovy blonde Danish modern and Formica counter-tops?  Dare we hope for a lava lamp?

The above pics (found on Pinterest and elsewhere online), got me thinking: does the ABC own the sets, props, wardrobe, etc?  I would imagine that they must own a good chunk of what we see onscreen, if not everything, and I’m guessing that they are not going to give it over to Channel 7 to use.  Perhaps the real reason Jean and Lucien are moving into the studio is because that room is the real deal, not a set.  I know nothing about these things, but would the designs be property of George Adams’ and Co?  So the sets could be recreated at Channel 7, but they would have to start from scratch?

Most important: if the ABC owns Lucien’s lavender-gray Dad trousers, can we hope that they stay at the ABC?  But, perversely, I want the PRoC and the White Robe of Smoochies to time-travel to 1963.  For sentimental reasons.

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

A concept

To show Eddie how much he loves him, Richie brings a boom box to his house one night and puts it on the sidewalk, pressing play so ‘Can’t take my eyes off of you’ blasts through the speaker and into Eddie’s open bedroom window. He starts belting out the lyrics until Eddie sticks his confused and tired little head out, only to start beaming and running around the road, swinging off of lamp posts and dancing as he sings, even going as far as to changing the lyrics to: “I love you Eddie, and if it’s quite alright I need you Eddie, to warm the lonely nights, I love you Eddie, trust in me when I say!”

Eddie just stares down at him in shock, in anger, in frustration, and complete admiration. After a while, Richie tires himself out and opts for letting the song play on its own as he stares at Eddie and he stares back, his face bright red and hot, only to have Mrs K run outside screaming at Richie and chasing him off her yard, leaving Eddie to stare off at Richie skipping away with a dopey grin on his face.


New Beginnings - Seven

The night you’d confessed to Spencer had involved a lot of crying on your part. It had been a long while since you’d had a conversation about the attack with someone who wasn’t already privy to the details and you’d forgotten how hard it was. 

Spencer had been amazing though. He’d held you and had murmured all the right things into your ear, just gently stroking your back and letting you sob into his shirt. He’d tentatively asked if he could see the scars properly and you’d obliged, standing in front of him and shoving down your sweat pants so he could see the marks on your thighs and lifting your tee shirt so he could inspect your stomach. 

He’d stared in disbelief, his eyes filling with tears and then he’d reached out gently tracing the marks with his fingertips. It had felt odd. His touch was strangely loving and affectionate and as he’d traced the longest scar you’d actually shivered. Not with discomfort, but with something else. He’d noticed and had reached down pulling your sweats back up and lowering your top again, pulling you back onto the couch next to him. 

“I can’t imagine the pain you must have gone through,” he’d said in a small voice. You explained to him that actually, when the attack was happening you’d been knocked out having had the back of your head smashed against a wall. It was only when you’d came to in the hospital later on that you’d discovered the full extent of what had happened. “In a way, it’s like it didn’t even happen to me. Because I don’t really remember it,” you’d shrugged. “All I have are these reminders.”

“Does any one else at work know?“

“Hotch does. And it’s in my records so I was a little bit concerned about Garcia finding out but Hotch has said that that part of my file is locked and will cause an alert if anyone unauthorised tries to access it.”

You couldn’t work out if Emily knew as well. She’d never said anything to you but she had been working in the same office as your parents at Interpol when it happened. Your parents had used all of their contacts and power to keep your name out of the media and had succeeded, but them working where they did and having to take time off when you were recovering, meant that you were sure people in their office must have known. 

Still if she did know, she was being discreet and not treating you any differently which you appreciated. 

That night you’d both fallen asleep on Spencer’s couch, exhausted from crying. When you’d woken in the morning you were both lying down and his arms were wrapped around your waist protectively. It was nice and you didn’t want to move but you knew you had to. 

Life had gone on and Spencer didn’t treat you any differently as you’d requested. The only indication that he knew was sometimes when a case involved a sexual assault, you could feel his gaze lingering on you for longer as normal. You’d always smile at him, giving him a quick nod. “I’m okay,” you’d told him one night. “I’ve been dealing with this for a long time now. I’ll tell you if I’m ever not okay I promise.” He’d nodded back and you’d given him a hug, understanding his concern for you. Your parents had been the same afterwards always wanting to make sure you were alright. 

It was a sunny Sunday morning and you were doing some well overdue cleaning. Your ipod was blasting in it’s dock and you were wandering from room to room, duster in hand, cleaning away the accumulated grime. You weren’t a messy person per se but being away on cases so much often caused the housework to build up. 

Your ipod contained a very random mix of music and you smiled as an English boy band, Another Level flicked on. You got into the song, shimmying your way around the room and singing loudly, remembering the look of horror on your mother’s face when she’d heard you and your friends singing the lyrics as eleven year olds.

Let me lick you up and down till you say stop. 
Let me play with your body baby, make you real hot. 
Let me do all the things you want me to do. 
Cos tonight baby, I wanna get freaky with you.”

The song ended as you spun around with a flourish, pointing to your imaginary audience. 

Then catching sight of a certain tall, lanky profiler leaning against your doorway with a very amused look on his face, you proceeded to trip over your own feet and fall to the ground. 

"Ouch,” you muttered landing hard on your ass.

Spencer started to laugh and clapped his hands together. “I loved the ending,” he teased, walking over to you and offering his hand to you, pulling you up. “Do you always fall over at the end of your performances?“ 

"Only when I have an unexpected audience. How long have you been there?” your cheeks were hot. 

“Long enough to see you swing around that lamp in the corner in a manner that could only be described as ‘stripper like’,” he smirked at you. You loved that smirk, it was incredibly sexy. 

You were still holding his hand when the music flicked over, the opening bars to Kings of Leon, Revelry starting to play. “I love this song.”

“I kinda like it too,” Spencer replied.

“ Dance with me?” you asked, your hands moving to his shoulders. 

He started to protest, trying to move away but you weren’t having any of it. “Just this once Spence. No one else can see us.”

He relented reluctantly and you moved closer to him.  Feeling his arms wrap around you and settle in the small of your back, you started to sway softly to the music, singing quietly to yourself. 

You lay you head on his shoulder as the song continued, closing your eyes and enjoying how close you were. You could feel his heart beating quicker than normal which made you smile. You pulled away as the song was ending grinning at him. “See that wasn’t so bad was it?" 

His eyes were fixed on yours. "No, it wasn’t,” he replied softly, his tongue sweeping across his lower lip, wetting it slightly. You wanted to kiss him so badly in that moment. 

You could cut the tension between you with a knife right then and could sense that finally something was going to happen between you. You bit your lip and seeing his eyes move to your mouth, you made a decision and started to bridge the gap between you, feeling him do the same. 


Your mobile sprung to life, shattering the moment between you, causing you to jump apart sheepishly. You ran to the kitchen to grab it from it’s charger. ‘Hotch,’  it read. Why was he calling your personal mobile? 

“Y/N, are you at home? I’m just pulling up outside your apartment building. I need to speak with you.” He sounded worried. 

Your brow furrowed, wondering what was so important that’d he’d drive all the way over on a Sunday. “Yes I’m home.”

“Buzz me in please, are you in your apartment or Reid’s?” He knew how much time you two spent with other outside of work.

“Mine.” You heard the main door sound and walked over to the buzzer on the kitchen wall, allowing your supervisor into the building. Hotch disconnected and you saw Spencer looking confused. 

“Hotch needs to speak with me urgently apparently.” You shrugged.

“Do you need me to leave?”

“Nah, if it’s something he doesn’t want you to know then he’ll ask you to leave when he gets here.” Hotch knew that you’d shared the more horrific details of your past with Spencer and you figured that there wasn’t really anything he could say to you that Spencer wouldn’t eventually find out. Unless it was an urgent work matter…. But then wouldn’t the rest of the team be involved anyway?

Your doorbell sounded and Spencer, who was closest went over to answer it. "Hey boss”

Agent Hotchner was dressed casually in jeans and a polo shirt and strolled straight over to you. 

“Y/N I need to know if you’ve had any strange phone calls or letters in the last few weeks?” His eyes were searching your face. 

“No…..why?” You shook your head, panic beginning to rise. 

“Joshua Cane is missing.”

For the second time that day you felt yourself begin to fall



@renleskarebooted@marshmellowgems11 @captainreid

You’d been working your way through the maze of tunnels underneath the target’s house when someone had grabbed you from behind. You cursed yourself for not being more vigilant, knowing that you’d definitely messed up this time. This guy was not one to mess with, and if he caught you death was almost a certainty. All of the expletives you’d ever heard were going through your head as you were dragged into a cell and tied to a chair, the cliched lamp swinging from the ceiling directly above your head, flickering.
“Kingsman, I presume?” A male voice said, echoing around the four walls. You look up at him with a smirk and spit onto the floor just in front of his shoes as your reply.
“So that’s how you’re going to play it, huh?” You shrug in response to his question, refusing to talk to a man like this. You’d never give up kingsman, no mater what.
“The hard way it is then,” he nods. He goes out of the room and comes back in with what looks like a collar. He clicks it around your neck, then twists a dial that tightens it a little.
“We’ll start off easy,” he sighs, clicking it tighter, “now, tell me about Galahad.”
“Don’t know who you’re on about,” you lie. The mention of his name brings him into your head. You hadn’t even thought of him until now, which was unusual for you, as he was normally on your mind all day every day. Eggsy was such a beautiful man, inside and out, his warmth filled every room he stepped inside like a small campfire burning. His eyes shone constantly when he spoke about something he loved. You’d fallen in love with those creases around his mouth when he smiled so many times that you could picture each and every one of them now in your head.

“Merlin, I need an update,” Eggsy’s desperate voice pleads over the mic.
“I don’t have a visual, I’m sorry Galahad. Audio’s coming up with nothing either, and her tracker has been turned off. This man knows what he’s doing.”
“I need something! Anything!”
“Wait, I may have something,” Roxy interrupts, finding a hidden doorway that wasn’t registering on any of Merlin’s maps. Eggsy and Roxy make their way through the entrance and into a small network of tunnels. Roxy spots something on the ground, your broken tracker.
“She must be around here somewhere,” she says, looking up close at the small device. Eggsy walks past her, into the maze of paths.
“Fuck. Now where?” He exhales.
“Follow the trail of breadcrumbs,” Roxy says, looking at the ground again, seeing small fragments of the device making a line.
“Clever girl,” Eggsy whispers to himself, but Roxy hears, knowing that he needs to get you back. They follow the various pieces of your equipment you used as a trail until they get to a fork in the tunnel system and it goes cold.
“Shit. I knew this was too good to be true,” Eggsy says, exasperated. He leans his forehead against a wall and hits his fist alongside it, trying to release some of his anger so he can think straight.

“You know, a lot of people give up now so they can get full breath. I’m impressed,” the man says to you as he leans over to your collar, twisting the dial one more time. Just as you start to close your eyes, blackness the only thing you can see as you struggle to breathe, he snaps the collar open and it falls to the ground. You breathe in so hard it almost makes you gag, the oxygen starting to make its way around your body again at last.
“Okay, how about a good old fashioned beating then?” He smirks, rolling the sleeve of his shirt up as he eyes your body for the best position to hit. The force of his first punch makes your cheek crack loudly as your head is thrown to the side violently. You can taste the familiar metallic twang of blood as you move your jaw around and lick your lips. Another hit from the other side makes you splatter blood from your mouth onto the concrete below you, then it slowly drips from your chin. His fists rain down on your body, from your chest to your legs, your whole body getting a pummelling. The pain is so intense, yet no sound escapes your mouth, you just try and breathe through it rather than exert any more energy by screaming. Eventually he stops, but with the way you’re feeling, you know it’s not long now until your window of opportunity closes. Someone needs to come now, or a miracle needs to happen so you can escape.

“Rox, we need to find her, please,” Eggsy pleads, lip quivering but not giving way just yet.
“I know, I know. The only way we can do this as quickly as possible is to split up. Stay on frequency so the other can hear what’s going on,” she says, looking at both tunnels in front of them.
“Which one?” Eggsy asks.
“You go left, I’ll take right. We’ll get her, don’t you worry about that,” she nods, heading into her tunnel. Eggsy gives a weak smile before heading off down the one next to it, hoping that she was right. A few minutes into their journeys they both come across doors.
“We’ll do this together,” Roxy says across the frequency, “3, 2, 1.”
They kick their doors open, and both come across empty rooms.
“Nothing,” Eggsy sighs.
“Same,” Roxy exhales.
They continue along their paths, hoping and praying that the next door one of them comes across is yours.

As you lay on the cold, damp concrete, your body still firmly strapped to the chair that had fallen with you, your mind races, imagining Eggsy walking through that door, rescuing you then admitting his undying love for you. You let out a struggled laugh, then start to remember all the times you’d been too scared to tell him how much you truly loved him.
One time, you could have sworn he wanted to tell you something too, but chickened out himself too. When you’d drunkenly kissed him once, he responded a little too enthusiastically, then you’d both parted, your mouths opening to say something, but the words never coming from either of you. The night had ended on that note when you’d been interrupted by the other recruits.
Now here you were, the unsaid words haunting you already, knowing that your chances of saying them now were getting slimmer by the second.
A noise from down the corridor startles you, but at this point your eyes refuse to open. You try to move your head, but you can feel your hair stuck to the floor with your blood, and don’t have the energy to tug against it. Your mind starts to cloud over, the noise from down the corridor fading out even though it was coming toward you.

“(Y/N)! Rox, I’ve found her!” Eggsy shouts as he enters your room finally.
“How is-“
“She ain’t breathing. Rox, she ain’t breathing. ROX,” Eggsy screams, tears finally escaping his eyes as he breaks down at the sight of your body laying on the ground.
“No no no, please (Y/N), please. Don’t do this to me. You can’t leave me. YOU CAN’T.”
He brushes the hair from your face to look at your properly, his fingers gently feeling your soft skin that was turning colder by the second.
“No, baby please,” he sobs, not caring who hears over the mic, “I can’t do this without you. I can’t.”
“SHE’S GONE,” he shouts, interrupting Roxy who had just arrived at the door.
“I’m so sorry.”
“She’s fuckin’ gone. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?”

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). 

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.

Spark - Mieczyslaw Stilinski Imagine

REQUESTED: No, inspired by a song I’ve been listening to which I’ve basically fallen in love with.

WARNINGS: Lil bit of swearing, slight smut (like mentions of party sex and their first time)

SUMMARY: You accidentally bump into Stiles in the corridor, and things accelerate from there.

NOTES: So, I kind of wanted to write something that took in multiple scenarios for a while, but I could never find a song that worked with that idea, or that gave me the motivation to write that idea until I found this song by Amber Run on one of my playlists.

It’s really gushy and cute and gAH. My ideal relationship. So, hope you enjoy! <3

Originally posted by teenwxlves

Keep reading

He Broke Me

Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: Angst *TRIGGER WARNINGS* cheating, non-consensual, mental and physical abuse

Written By: Kace

A/N: I had this idea where I wanted to do a Jensen x Reader AU, where he isn’t acting, but instead he’s just living in a small town with the reader. This might make you feel a whole lot of emotions, so I hope you enjoy. Please remember, there are trigger warnings so keep that in mind. 

He Broke Me Masterlist

His tanned, toned arm was wrapped around your shoulder. You watched the sky turn from vibrant oranges and pinks to beautiful purples and blues as the sun set on the horizon of the lake surrounded by his friends.

You could see those who were once considered your best friends on the other side of the lake. They were laughing and dancing and you missed them, but with them came memories. Memories you never wanted to visit again, filled with pain and sadness.

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.

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

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!)

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