the first book is 'storm front'

Groundbreaking Female Comic Book Store Owner Now Appears on a Marvel Cover

Ariell Johnson has been collecting comic books for more than a decade, but she’ll soon add a very personal one to her collection.

The 33-year-old founder and president of Amalgam Comics & Coffeehouse, Inc. in Philadelphia will appear on a variant cover of “Invincible Iron Man #1.”

The first image of the book, which goes on sale next month and features Johnson having a meal with new Marvel superhero RiRi Williams, is below.

Johnson said she owes the collaboration to her colleague Randy Green, whom she said spearheaded the project and conceptualized the cover.

“When the email went out about potential variants for stores, he was really excited and took it upon himself to work out the [details]. It was really his hard work,” she told ABC News. “I knew what it was supposed to look like, but having the actual art in front of you is so much different. It’s really exciting.”

Not that she hasn’t earned it. Johnson opened Amalgym last December, becoming the first black, female comic book store owner on the East Coast. However, her obsession of all things geek really began around age 10 or 11, when she discovered “X-Men” character Storm. Johnson credits the character, one of the first black, female superheroes, with being “the bridge that got me into this world.”

“To think I made it a decade-plus and I had never seen a black, woman superhero is crazy because little white boys have so many [with whom they identify]: ‘I want to be Iron Man!’ 'I want to be Batman!’ 'I want to be Superman.’ 'I want to be Han Solo!’ When you are a person of color, you’re scraping the bottom of the barrel to find someone you can identify with. I always felt like I was watching other people’s adventures,” she explained. “Being introduced to Storm was a pivotal moment for me because had I not come across her, I might have grown out of my love for [comics].”

After graduating from cartoons to comics in high school, Johnson began buying her own books in college. Her Friday routine was comforting: She’d go to the comic book store to get her weekly stash, and then take the books across the street to her favorite coffee shop, where she’d read them over a hot chocolate and piece of cake. When the coffee shop was forced to close some 10 years ago, Johnson decided it was up to her to create a space that gave her the same feeling of warmth.

“The goal is to be an inclusive geek space,” she said. “So it’s not just comics; it’s gaming, it’s sci-fi, it’s horror, whatever you geek about, we want to make room for you!”

She’s also proven to be a role model for girls and women. Johnson, who points to Marvel’s diverse cast of characters and story lines as proof that the industry is evolving in a positive way, said that she’s worked hard to make sure that everybody feels welcome at Amalgam.

“I had a girl tell me I had an excellent book selection and she was 7 or 8. I don’t know how welcome she might feel in some other spaces,” she said. “Women exist in this space! We’ve always been reading comic books, we just may not have been as open about it. I definitely get very positive feedback from not just little girls, but grown women too.”

Lake House

Originally posted by stilessderek

Stiles x Reader

Warnings: sex, 18+ gif under cut

Every summer since you could remember your family travelled up to the woods to a lake house that you always had to share with the Stilinski’s. It was big enough for both your families but it wasn’t big enough for you and Stiles to avid each other.

The start of every holiday would bring the two of you a short relief from seeing each other, only to be forced to spend the summer together. When you were younger your parents hating, each other was a phase that you’d grow out of.

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A thought on making one's craft personal.

It’s so easy to get caught up in the classical ideas of what the elements are and what they mean. Earth is fertility, feminine, Fire is harsh, masculine, etc. These are good places to start when learning about the craft- one should learn the classic correspondences and such.

However, sometimes we forget to take the next step: what do these things mean to me? How do I relate to the elements? Sometimes, the classic concepts don’t resonate with us. If you’re from Texas, your idea of the elements is probably different than someone from Maine. Instead of putting our experiences aside, we can use them to further our personal practices. After all, when it is personal and meaningful to you, it has much more power.

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Sidgeno Mermaid AU anon fic

<< [Chapter 3/?] >>

It takes five people to maneuver the king size mattress and the L-shaped couch  through the front door and into their proper places. Geno tips them all fifty dollars but it’s worth it.

He starfishes out on clean sheets and sleeps for eleven hours straight.

When he wakes up it’s still dark out and he curls up at the end of his new couch and turns on the lamp.

It flickers and he picks up the electrical repair book he got from Sid and starts to thumb through it.

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I wish they’d release the extended cut of Skin Deep

Apparently the original running length for the Once upon a Time episode Skin Deep was a full eighteen minutes longer than they were allowed.  The choice was either pad it out into two episodes or cut it down.  Due to the length of the season they chose to cut it down.  

I wish they would release the extended cut as a DVD bonus.  It is a very popular episode.  The filming script for it was leaked online, which is a rarity.

Back in 2008, when The Scifi channel (now Syfy) made its short lived Dresden Files TV series, the eighth episode was Storm Front, based on the first book of the Dresden Files Book series and was actually the show’s original pilot cut down.  When cut down to episode length and squeezed in at episode eight it didn’t really work.  Later an extended version was shown just once (in the middle of the night) as a Scifi channel original movie. Since then bootlegs of the longer cut have surfaced online and it’s become the most sought after relic from the short lived TV series.

They should consider releasing the extended Skin Deep in some form.

blackbutlersecrets  asked:

Hey! I just stumbled upon your account and took a liking to it. I love your blog! I have another sebaciel prompt, if you still feel like writing! Here it is: Ciel gets an injury that isn't REALLY all that bad but he exaggerates it in order to get out of some work and socializing for a few days. Of course Sebastian catches on. I'll leave the rest up to you! I was inspired to send this prompt in after reading your other one- your writing style is something to envy!

Hello! :) This ask is super nice; things like this are the best kind of pick-me-up on tough days, so thank you! <3 

I confess I was stuck on this prompt for a while, and I may have cheated a tiiiiny bit. There is a scene where Ciel fakes an injury, but it’s not… it’s probably not what you were expecting. However, this fic was a ton of fun to write, and I hope it’s just as fun to read for you! *smiles hopefully*

Rating: G

Warnings: Modern AU. I tried and probably failed, because I’m not British to make it sound British. Human!Sebastian. Also, very mild inappropriate language.

Sebastian is having an especially lovely dream about the white cat with the unbelievably soft fur that always greets him on the house steps when he is abruptly awoken by a demanding, and unfortunately loud, ten year old.

Ciel is small for his age, which, considering the amount of sweets the boy blackmails out of him on a daily basis, is rather surprising, but that fact doesn’t do much to make Sebastian enjoy waking up to his chest being crushed under the boy’s weight.

‘’Ciel,’’ he says, blinking blearily, ‘’what’s the matter? Did Mey-Rin set the towels on fire again?’’

‘’Sebastian,’’ the boy wails, moving in way that makes Sebastian worry some of his bones might not escape this as unbroken as he’d prefer them to. ‘’You promised you’d take me to the park today.’’

Sebastian’s gaze drifts to the calendar hanging next to the door opposite his bed. A bright red circle surrounds today’s date, with the words ‘’take Ciel to the park’’ scrawled hastily underneath. Shite, he thinks.

Ciel, observant little thing that he is, eyes Sebastian suspiciously. ‘’You didn’t forget, did you?’’ he asks.

Sebastian immediately slaps on the cheeriest smile he can muster. ‘’Forget? Why, of course not,’’ he says, ruffling Ciel’s hair as he picks him and sets him on the ground. He pushes the covers off, putting a pair of slippers on before picking the boy up anew and taking him into the kitchen. ‘’But let’s get you some breakfast first.’’

‘’I want cereal,’’ Ciel proclaims, holding on tightly—a bit too tightly— to Sebastian’s neck.

‘’Sure thing, little one,’’ Sebastian says, putting the boy down on a stool and watching as he places his elbows atop the kitchen counter, small feet dangling in thin air as he tries to reach the cereal box all the way on the other side of it. It makes for an endearing sight. The half-formed smile on his face wilts the moment he remembers, however. Shite, he thinks again.

After making sure Ciel is well and truly focused on his meal, Sebastian rushes to grab his phone. ‘’Mey-Rin,’’ he says, frantically running a hand through his sleep-mused locks. ‘’Where are you?’’

‘’Mister Sebastian,’’ the maid asks, voice shaky and uncertain. ‘’You gave me the day off, remember? Said you were going to spend the day at the park with Ciel, you did.’’

Shite, Sebastian thinks, for the third time that morning.  He makes sure to lower his voice to an almost inaudible whisper before continuing. ‘’I forgot, Mey-Rin,’’ he says, with the guilt of a man who knows he has committed an unabsolvable sin.

‘’B-but, but,’’ Mey-Rin stutters, suddenly just as uneasy as her contractor, ‘’Ciel—it’s, he’ll—he’ll be crushed.’’

‘’I know,’’ Sebastian says, fighting the urge to sigh.

‘’Why don’t you just take him, Mister Sebastian? I mean, it’s too late now. If you don’t, he will… Oh the poor thing…’’  

Sebastian can picture Mey-Rin theatrically clutching her heart as she speaks. The image doesn’t make it any easier for him.  ‘’But I haven’t prepared anything. Won’t he be more disappointed when he finds out?’’

‘’Miss Rachel always took him.’’

‘’But… Mey-Rin… the cake—‘’

‘’Take him, Mister Sebastian. He misses her. It helps him.’’

With a sigh of resigned agreement, Sebastian ends the call.

He walks back into the kitchen to find Ciel right where he’d left him, chocolate milk staining the sides of his mouth. A fond smile spreads across his features. ‘’Little one,’’ he calls, leaning on the doorway, ‘’finish up. We need to get going.’’

The boy turns around, beaming at him. He’s rushing out the door before Sebastian can even make sense of what happens. ‘’Don’t forget to wash up properly,’’ he calls after the small thing.

It’s raining dreadfully, and Ciel insists on stepping into every puddle that catches his sight, gifting Sebastian with glares that demonstrate his immense displeasure rather artfully—the boy always has had a penchant for the dramatic, Sebastian wonders where he gets it from sometimes—whenever the other tries to gently direct him away from them.

Oh well, Sebastian thinks, resigned, I’ll just have to get him new boots… and new pants, and a new raincoat, and—no, Ciel, not the lake. He brings a hand up to his forehead, And I mustn’t forget to pick up some painkillers at the pharmacy as well.

Fortunately, Sebastian manages to disabuse the boy of any desire for a morning swim.

When they arrive, they find the park almost completely empty. It is to be expected, no one in their right mind would go anywhere in this weather, and Sebastian is starting to severely doubt his parenting skills—surely there must’ve been something about setting boundaries in one of those books he’d picked up all those years ago—but then Ciel is smiling, free and wholly sincere, and Sebastian can’t help the grin that tugs at the corner of his own lip.

‘’Do you remember when we first met?’’ he asks the boy, pulling him into a small, covered alcove in front of a closed coffee shop. The storm is getting worse by the second.

Ciel looks up at him curiously. ‘’Of course I do,’’ he says, as if affronted by the sheer implication that he could ever forget.

‘’It was raining then too, wasn’t it?’’


‘’I was late for work, taking a shortcut through the park, when, to my astonishment, this small thing bumped into me,’’ Sebastian recounts, smiling all the while.

‘’I wasn’t that small,’’ Ciel protests, nose scrunched up.  

‘’Oh, but you were. Tiny little thing, I almost didn’t spot you,’’ he counters, pinching Ciel’s cheek. ‘’Then your mother rushed over, started lecturing me about being more cautious, and you, even though you were perfectly fine—you were a devious thing—started complaining about your ankle. Even struck your tongue out at me when she turned her back.’’

‘’I didn’t really like you at first,’’ Ciel admits, as if confessing a shameful secret.

Sebastian chuckles. ‘’It’s okay little one, you like me now, don’t you?’’

‘’Yes,’’ Ciel says, blushing, eyes focused on the ground. ‘’I lo-love you now.’’

Sebastian feels his eyes start to water. He knows, of course, has known since the first time Ciel had clutched his sleeve and begged him for a bedtime story, that night after Rachel’s accident. But hearing Ciel say it always makes something inside him ache with an uncontainable sort of joy.

‘’I love you too, little one. Very much,’’ Sebastian says, kneeling down and enveloping the boy in a suffocating hug.


‘’Yes, Ciel?’’

‘’I miss mum a lot,’’ Ciel says, voice choked up from unshed tears. ‘’I miss the cakes she used to make for us when we went to the park, I miss the way she’d smile, I miss her.’’ He tries to discretely wipe his eyes on the corner of his jumper.

Sebastian looks at the boy. ‘’I miss her too,’’ he says, voice barely higher than a whisper, as if he can’t bare the truth spoken any louder. ‘’Do you want to go visit her…’’ Even after four years, he still can’t bring himself to say the word grave.

‘’No,’’ Ciel says. ‘’But—Sebastian, you won’t, you’re not leaving me too, are you?’’

‘’Never. Not in a million years.’’

‘’Good,’’ Ciel says, with the sort of finality one uses when terribly overwhelmed.

Sensing the boy’s discomfort, Sebastian smiles—it is, perhaps, a bit more watery than he’d have liked, but it’ll do. ‘’Do you want to go annoy Mey-Rin on her day off?’’ he asks. ‘’We could even bake some cake together. What do you think, little one?’’

Ciel responds with a watery smile of his own, and, clasping Sebastian’s hand tightly, pulls him along.

‘’Oh, would you look at that,’’ Sebastian notes cheerily, squeezing Ciel’s hand as if to remind him of his promise once more, ‘’the rain stopped.’’

… … … … … …

A/N: This isn’t the kind of thing I normally write, and, as fun as experimenting with their portrayal was, even as I type this, I feel a bit… apprehensive, I suppose. I hope it’s not completely horrible, though. :)

Johnny Marcone for A Year of Theme Posts

Johnny Marcone from The Dresden Files (2000-) by Jim Butcher for June 10, 2017 June, 2017 Villain Theme.

Gentleman Johnny Marcone appears sporadically throughout The Dresden Files making his first appearance in the first book Storm Front (2000) where he a major crime boss in Chicago and attempts to buy off Harry Dresden during his investigation of Jennifer Stanton’s murder. 

He isn’t well liked by the other characters in The Dresden Files (Harry in particularly dislikes him), but he has been known to do the right thing every once in a while. As long as the pay out is high enough that is. 

In later books besides being a crime boss he begins to work with other characters of the supernatural variety to make his own operation run smoother. 

livinginthelopsidedworld  asked:

personally i found SF,FM And GP as good as any of the books that came after. SF has "and i'm all out of bubblegum". FM has harry fihting giantwolf AS a giantwolf. And gm has a army of vampires desceding against out heroes.

I liked them when reading them through the first time. But I’m also aware that if I picked Storm Front up today I may not have continued. I’ve changed a lot in 6 years. Also, I hear a lot that Storm Front, Fool Moon and Grave Peril are people’s least favourite books for one reason or another. 

(I would say Fool Moon is my least favourite, despite the fact the scene in the Police Station is brilliant.)

Storm Front was first published when I was 10, and I’m very aware that the expectations of books 17 years ago was very different to how it is today, and one of my pet peeves is people bitching about how non-inclusive the older books are. Like, yah. There where people not born when it was published that are now old enough to read it without adult intervention, the world changed. But it’s those things that do tend to strike people. The style of the books is very different to the later books. It’s more noir. The women are mostly femme fatale. And it’s unfair to judge the series on those first three books. 

Skin Game and Storm Front have very little in common from an objective point of view. There are like 3 characters that are in both books (Harry, Murphy and Mac; 4 if you include Mister). They’re practically different genera’s. (Crime Noir with magic vs Heist).

Like, if you’re going to pick a book to represent the series, Storm Front, Fool Moon, and Grave Peril are probably not going to be your choice. It’s probably going to be Dead Beat, Changes or Skin Game.

JFC I can write essays about this series. Someone take these books off me.


Cafe Pista

Location:  500 Rue Beaubien E

Metro Station: Beaubien

Hello hello! It is finally the holidays. No more finals. No more school. 3 weeks - free. I am very excited to have so much free time to go to more cafes and talk about all of them on this blog! 

My first morning off from school was spent at this gorgeous location. I had heard so much about Pista from so many different people that it was on top of my list of “cafes to try asap”. Now that I did try it, it’s on top of my coffee list. It won first ranking. Congratulations, Pista. I’m in love. 

I went here with a book instead of my usual laptop, because hey - no school. I can read voluntarily and not solve endless/impossible discrete math exercises from my teacher’s website. 

I should also mention there was a snow storm on this day, but luckily, Pista  is right in front of Beaubien metro station. So convenient. My book didn’t get wet.

However, my body almost completely froze thanks to our amazing, -16°C,   Montreal weather - even if I was outside for only 2 minutes. But after confronting such intense weather, coming into Pista was like walking into heaven after visiting an icy version of hell. Lovely music, warm ambiance, clients laughing, staff smiling, delicious smelling food baking and… COFFEE. I forgot about the snow almost instantly.

I ordered a latte, because let’s be honest, I deserve a pretty heart on my coffee after being hated from all my exams. I needed that latte art. 

I sat down, opened the first page of my book and started to read. I was so relaxed. And it felt good to be in such a cozy place as an escape from the chaos outside. The coffee was delicious too - they use Pilot coffee beans.

As time went by, I observed the cafe in between my mini pauses from reading. I noticed a few original points. First of all, the decor - on point. When you go here, check out the details on the ceiling, the floor, the green/grey/gold color scheme and even the counter was intricately designed. Beautiful interior design. 

Second, almost everyone who walked in (and there were a lot of people) knew the workers and were probably regulars. The barista was super friendly and seemed like she was best friends with almost everyone there. Very cute. 

I also noticed a little note on the table that said “no laptop zone”. Good thing I hadn’t brought my laptop. You actually cannot use your device in this cafe EXCEPT for a table they made laptop friendly in the back. But I don’t like sitting in the back. Team window seating! Keep that in mind before you make your trip here with your heavy laptop. 

I hope you guys come here. You won’t be sorry! Everything about Pista is perfect. So grab your book and grab a nice latte at this beautiful location. Relaxation guaranteed.

10 Things About Me

I was tagged by the lovely @owlish-peacock36 and @gotham-ruaidh, so why not?

1.) What are your favorite opening lines from a book?

Lordy, these are hard!!!

“I didn’t realize he was a werewolf at first.” - Mercy Thompson Series, Moon Called by Patricia Briggs

“I heard the mailman approach my office door, half an hour earlier than usual.” - Dresden Files Series, Storm Front by Jim Butcher

“How does one describe Artemis Fowl? Various psychiatrists have tried and failed. The main problem is Artemis’s own intelligence.” - Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer

2.) What song always makes you emotional?

“The Secret” by Emery

“Just A Dream” by Carrie Underwood

“If You’re Reading This” by Tim McGraw

“Hands Held High” by Linkin Park (especially now, RIP Chester)

3.) What is the creepiest thing that has ever happened to you?

I was staying with my aunt and uncle for a few days to hang out with my cousins. I went to the grocery store with my aunt and cousins and while I was waiting for my aunt to pay for the stuff, I heard someone call my name. Now, this is in Orange County, CA, not a place where people randomly know your name. So I look around, trying to figure out where I heard it from. I lock eyes with this guy who’s standing by an ‘employees only’ door. To this day I can’t forget his face. He hooks his finger at me like ‘come here’. I don’t know if he called my name or if he was looking at someone else, but it scared the crap out of me. I was probably six or seven at the time?

4.) How do you feel about candy corn, the most unappreciated candy in this universe? (No bias here, none at all.)

I LOVE CANDY CORN!!! Makes me think of A Bug’s Life.

Originally posted by shattered-addiction

5.) Your boozy drink of choice?

Weeeeeellll….. I don’t drink. I like tea?

6.) What embarrassing/hilarious story never fails to be brought up at your family holiday dinners?

Good grief. I really honestly don’t know. 

7.) Favorite childhood memory?

My dad coming home from work. Or when he’d get home and I was sick, he would ALWAYS come into my room and say ‘hey sickie’. I got sick a lot as a kid.

8.) What’s your ~aesthetic~ (doesn’t matter if it’s real or if it’s a goal)?

Middle of winter, feet of snow outside, stone fireplace, big thick cozy blanket, steaming mug of tea/cocoa/apple cider, a floofy kitteh, and a book. 


Uh… Well I guess there might be one? Not really a murder. Not even sure it’s totally true. My dad once told me that there was a kid who played in the street not far from our house and a driver wasn’t paying attention. Supposedly he hit the kid and didn’t realize it for a minute so he dragged the kid a way down the street and killed him. Super depressing.

10.) If you were to get a tattoo (or another tattoo), what would you get?

I’m WAY too ADD to decide on something to permanently put on my body. I like the idea of tattoos. My brother has a few, so does my sister in law. I don’t know. I feel like I’d have to get something SUPER nerdy. Like the TARDIS. or something. I DON’T KNOW!

But enough about me! Tell me about yourself! I’m tagging @shortiemcbealle @outlanderedandoverhere @outlandishchridhe and @diversemediums

Kind Eyes, Kind Smiles, Kind Understanding

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Part Nine || Part 10 || Part Eleven || Part Twelve || Part Thirteen

Summary: Kind of an epilogue to the whole thing–what life looks like now that you and Credence are safe. Part 14/14 (!!!!)

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, but nothing graphic and just kind of mentioned in passing

Word Count: 1,268

A/N: I cannot believe it’s over!!!!!! Thank you so much for the constant support and kind comments. It’s been a joy to write. I love my neat little bows, so here is an ending he deserves. Credence is happy, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted. Thank you all for reading and encouraging me to write him one happy ending. I hope to write many more. :-)

Years have passed. Many. You would count, but it just doesn’t seem to matter so much anymore. You think that life may have actually started the second you stepped foot into this obscure little town and moved into that tiny apartment. You know that’s not true, because the bad nights do come still, but they seem less frequent and further and further from yourself. The present is just too tempting a place to stay.

You and Credence had always considered this town a temporary destination while you waited to know you were safe, but as it turns out, the two of you find comfort living in the place that had housed and hidden you when you had needed to flee so suddenly. So, instead of leaving the town as you had originally planned, you bought a tiny old house, only one floor with two bedrooms and a bathroom with a garden out front that you and Credence manage together. It is quaint and small and not as flashy as the dreams you could conjure up, but you think it is perfect. And one look at Credence’s wind-mussed hair sweeping across his face after escaping from its loose bun as he stands in the garden with a content smile on his face is more than enough to convince you that staying is the right choice. After all, it’s by the coast; you still have the sea in front of you, and looking at the possibilities is more than enough for the both of you.

You’ve been working at a book store for a while now. You had used magic in order to convince your employer that you had a different name so that you could work in the no-maj facility under a persona that wouldn’t be recognized in order to keep MACUSA’s eyes away and to earn some money to continue living quietly with Credence. You also have taken to bringing a book home every week that you take turns reading aloud with him at night before you fall asleep.

Credence had found work in a flower shop across the street from your book store, where he works most days. He enjoys the colors of the flowers and the romantic sentiments that come in and out of his store with them. He takes his lunch breaks with you, and your coworkers often ask you when you will get married. You always laugh and say you don’t know, but you know you’ll remain unmarried. Credence likes that he doesn’t feel tethered to you, like this life with you isn’t contractually obligated—he thinks that it is more romantic to choose, each and every day, to stay with someone simply because you can rather than because you vowed to. You agree.

He really has become quite the romantic.

He has even taken up painting and sketching. He enjoys the time it takes to notice something properly enough to capture it in art. He mostly likes to paint the sea outside your bay window at different times of day and in different conditions, but sometimes he sketches your portrait. You never really know when he’s doing it; he has an impeccable memory and only glances at you once in whatever position he fancies and sketches it from there. He never makes a big deal of it, just leaves them lying around where he knows you’ll find them eventually. They’re always breathtaking—you even hung one in your bedroom and another by the window, admiring the way in which he saw you, always in some kind of soft light. He includes this framed portrait in every painting of the view from your window from that point forward.

You and Credence have largely given up magic. It is a constant risk, and the thought of someone taking this life from you is enough to deter you from using it in public for sure. Credence still learned many spells to practice his control and feel like a part of the world he had always been destined for and is one of the most powerful wizards you have ever come across, having surpassed you long ago, and you know he could do whatever he wanted to with that power. It becomes a kind of intimacy not to use that magic. Of everything he could do, he still chooses to live this life with you, only practicing magic within the walls of your home. He also finds it comforting that he is controlled enough not to use it and not to let it escape, even on bad nights when his past hits him with full force again and you wait patiently for him to come back to you. He still can’t help the white his eyes turn when he makes love to you. “Lumos” remains his favorite spell, and it has become your favorite too. Because of him, of course. Almost everything is because of him.

You gaze out to a stormy sea from your bay window on one not-so-particularly spectacular day. Everything looks tumultuous and you wonder how long until the torrential downpour—you can’t wait to watch with Credence when he gets out of the shower. You wonder briefly if he’ll paint it today. You don’t have to wonder for long because you can hear Credence walking over and the shuffle of paper. To your surprise, though, he’s toting a sketchbook and a charcoal pencil that he cradles carefully as he bends himself to share the window seat with you. He smiles lazily at you, opening the book and staring at you very purposefully. You clutch your mug of tea a little more tightly and blush as you realize he’s about to sketch your portrait again. You pretend to look back out to the sea, but you can’t help but still be focused on Credence and the scraping of his pencil.

You see him glance up from his sketch for a moment and notice the black smudges smearing over the scars on his hands. You never stopped loving his hands. “You don’t have to be so self-conscious, Y/N.” His voice never lost its quiet tone, but it’s so much gentler, more languid and leisurely.

You laugh lightly and duck your head a little. “I just don’t know what to do when you take the time to let me know you’re sketching me, Credence. I feel like I’m too big for my skin when you do this.”

He rubs his hand across his face and remembers the charcoal, chuckling to himself about the black streak he’s just added to his face. “Just sit. Look at me. I like it when you look at me.” He hasn’t stuttered over his words in a long time.

So you look at him, eventually picking up your book from the table to read to him as he works. He sketches you in abstracts first: the fierceness of your eyes, the way your hands curl gently around the book, the way the dark lighting makes your scars glow on your arms, the tilt of your mouth as it forms different words… He moves on to start sketching you as a whole, sitting there in front of him, one leg pressed tightly against you and the other resting on the floor against his. The storm does start at some point. You hear it but don’t look out at it in favor of reading. Credence never moves to stop sketching you, and the moment feels like an intimate eternity.

But to be fair, your life has begun to feel like one intimate eternity that you share with him. He would have to agree.


@7minutes-tomidnight @cayleewinchester @asshfall @rising-ice-phoenix @dcgoddess @aya-fay@weasleywickedwarlock@cremedelabrulee @small-town-wayward-daughter @tomatobuddhachips @corn-noots@lenodina @johnmurphys-sass@randomrainbownobodyuniverse @jessie-ohler @smallest-dancer@argentinemango@dontbeamenacetotheforce@hestia-sama

awkwardmarmar  asked:

Gajeel and Natsu and Juvia living together in apartment AU? I think they'd make an ot3 as in besties omg sorry if you don't like that just choose to ignore my request lol

I hope you don’t mind, but I couldn’t help but adding a little Gruvia into the mix. It really helped solidify the idea I had with this prompt. ^^ I had fun, thank you for the request :-D It’s really long Idk what happened lol. 

“Gajeel-kun, don’t leave your metal scraps everywhere!”

“Don’t touch that! I’m working on a project,” Gajeel came running into the room the second Juvia touched one of the screws on the floor. He growled out the last bit, and finished it off with a glare.

“You can’t just leave these sitting around. Juvia nearly stepped on one of the tacks,” She stared at the offending object in question. Why had she ever agreed to live with two guys? She still couldn’t work out the reason in her head now. For one they were so messy!

“Look, you just won’t understand. I’ll finish it when I finish it, but until then just leave everything in its place,” Gajeel was grumpy. The way his voice scratched told her she had woken him up. She glared at him, but growing up next to him her whole life only meant he was adjusted to her evil looks by now.

“Glare all you want, but the project stays!” He left the room with a slam of his bedroom door leaving Juvia alone with yet another huge mess that she now wasn’t even allowed to clean. Who sleeps until one in the afternoon anyway?!

She stalked to the kitchen hoping a good cup of tea would help calm her nerves only to find a fire burning on the stove, “NATSU!”

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Rumbelle Christmas in July

Here it is, the first chapter of my RCIJ donation. I’m a little intimidated, since the spectacular smartgirlsaremean is my giftee! But, here it is: and the rest is coming very soon! 

Hope you enjoy!

The Coffer of Divers Sorceries

Chapter 1
It was a dark and stormy night. The wind tossed the blooming lilac bushes about, and lightning flashed across the sky almost without ceasing. Belle stood at the front window watching the storm. Her current book hung, forgotten, from her fingers. Since she was little, she had hated storms: the thunder reminded her of ogre attacks, and her time in the Queen’s tower had only added to her fear. The building had swayed, and the wind and rain had seeped in through cracks.
Belle wanted Rumple. His arms would hold her tightly, and his voice (so different now, but still somehow familiar) would comfort her. And then he would ease her towards the stairs, and they would …. She still couldn’t talk about it, the things they did together. It was so new, and strange, and somehow wonderful. She wondered if they could have been doing–that–all that time in the Dark Castle, and if he had wanted her that way, and if that was what her father had been afraid of. How different would it have been, there? she wondered.
But he wasn’t here now. They had been in bed, laughing about something or nothing, but then one of the little boxes he carried had buzzed. Rumple got up, looked at it, and swore. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. There’s been a break-in at the shop. I’ve got to go see what’s happening. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said, poking it and frowning, then setting it down and getting dressed. “You stay here.” Then he had kissed her and left. She hadn’t been able to sleep, so she had slipped on the tiny yellow silk chemise and long wrap (with the absurdly huge sleeves–kimono? was the word Rumple had used) and wandered downstairs for some tea.
4:30. 4:30 in the morning. What kind of emergency would keep him away for two hours? Why hasn’t he called? He’s so worried about me; he won’t let me go anywhere. I might as well be locked in the Dark Castle. That was it. Enough. This was supposed to be a new land, but Belle had only had a few glimpses of it. It was time to act for herself. She ran upstairs and hunted for some proper clothes.
In the end she had to settle for a scandalously short kirtle, because that was all Rumpelstiltskin had provided for her, but she added some heavier leggings. She frowned at the wall of shoes. It was just over a mile to his shop, but that was too far to walk in the dangerously high shoes she had here. There had to be something more practical for her to wear. Eventually she found a pair of brown, flat-heeled suede boots, lined with fuzzy wool. Grinning, she slipped them on.
She remembered to turn the lights out, and she was sure the cooking stove was off, before she left the house. She didn’t lock the door, because she didn’t have keys. Besides, who would be mad enough to rob Rumpelstiltskin? Except that someone had. Again.
The shop was brightly lit, and the front door opened to her. “Rumple?” she called out as she stepped inside and looked around. There weren’t any apparent signs of a break-in: no open windows, no broken glass, no obvious disarray in the shelves and counters and crowded floor. It looked pretty much like it always did, from what she could tell. “Rumple? Are you here?”
“Belle.” Rumple came out from the back room. He had taken off the jacket, but he still wore the dark waistcoat over the simple blue shirt, and the blue-and-gold cravat–No, it’s a tie here–she reminded herself. “What are you doing here? How did you get here?”
“You didn’t come back, or call. I was worried about you. So I walked down the hill. I remembered the way from when you took me to your home. Don’t worry; I didn’t see anyone, and I don’t think anyone saw me.” His fingers were twitching on the head of his cane, so she went to him and kissed his cheek. “What happened here? I don’t see anything really out of place. Did they take anything?”
“It’s hard to tell. I’ve only found a few things missing, and–it makes no sense. Whoever it was wasn’t  looking for money or valuables. And only one person would want the thing that was taken. But he couldn’t–as I said, it doesn’t make sense.” Rumple’s dark eyes–so expressive–narrowed.
“And you like things to make sense.” She smiled at him and squeezed his arms. “So tell me about it. Maybe I can help.”
“So far as I’ve been able to tell, the only things missing are a few trinkets: a pocket knife, a bracelet or three, a medal, and a child’s stuffed rabbit.”
“That sounds like children.”
“Indeed. But what would they be doing out in the middle of the night? And what kind of children  would be daring enough to break into my shop and rob me?”
There didn’t seem to be any answer to this. It wasn’t like Belle actually knew any children, after all. “Are you sure it was children?”
“Almost. Come see this.” Taking her hand, Rumpelstiltskin led her into the back room. There was a small, musty-smelling (but scrupulously clean) bathroom back there, with a basin, a close-stool (no, it was a toilet!) and the rain-bath she had used that first day. There was a small window in the room, too, and it was open. There were muddy footprints on the toilet.
“I see what you mean. No grown person could fit through there. I know I couldn’t. So it had to be a child who came in this way. But maybe the child opened the door for someone else. I’ve heard of gangs of thieves in cities who do that.”
“No, because the doors were all locked, and you have to have a key to open them, even from the inside,” he replied.
They wandered back into the front room. “So why do you think it wasn’t a child?”
“Because of the rabbit.”
“I’m sorry. You’ve lost me. The rabbit? It’s a child’s toy.”
“It’s which child that concerns me. Or rather, which adult would care about that particular rabbit.”
“I don’t understand.”
Rumpelstiltskin sighed. “Belle, everything here in my shop came from our old lives, from the Enchanted Forest and the surrounding kingdoms. You know, Agrabah, Carabas, Duskhaven….”
He smiled at her. He was so different here, so much colder and distant, or warmer; he didn’t play the imp with the voices and the atitudes and the poses. Or was this just a different set of poses? “Yes, even Arendelle.” He pointed to an ornately carved tray. “That is from a fat merchant who wanted fair winds for his ships.”
“So this rabbit is from the other realm? What’s so special about it?
“It holds a special meaning for someone. Rather like your teacup.”
Her face fell a bit, and she stepped back from him. “But if it was that important to someone, and was such a little thing, why didn’t you–
“Why didn’t I give it back?” He smiled gently and ran one finger across her cheek to her throat. “First, I didn’t notice it for a long time. There are a lot of things in here, Belle.”
“I noticed.”
“Second, I didn’t know where the rabbit came from, or whether the people who cared about it were here in Storybrooke. And he never came in to ask about it.”
“If he had, would you have given it to him?”
“I don’t know. We were friends, once, in a way. But perhaps not. I am not a very nice person, Belle.” He sighed and took her hands in his. “I doubt he ever knew I had the rabbit. But he is the one person in Storybrooke who would have wanted it.”
“But he’s not small enough to get in and through the window. Would he have gotten a child to do it for him?”
“Doubtful. Jefferson would more likely storm in here and throw things and people around until he got it. Subtlety is not a word in his vocabulary.”
“So we’re back to a child, or children. Having an adventure.”
“That’s what it looks like … no!” Rumple dropped her hands and stepped past her, looking intently at a set of deep shelves. He began searching the shelves, pushing books, boxes, leather cases, bottles, and small object d’art around. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO!”
“What is it? What are you looking–
“Belle, you have to help me.”
“Of course, Rumple.”
“On the shelf next ot my worktable, there’s a book, Mantegna’s Compendium of Arcane Armaments. I need it here.”
She hurried to get the huge leather-bound codex, which seemed to be held together by fraying green tapes tying it shut. When she got it back to the front room, Rumple grabbed it from her. He didn’t even bother untying the tapes, but just magicked it open, and began shuffling through the heavy pages, sending fragments of parchment and dust into the air, muttering as he went. At last he stopped, stood straight, and pointed. “There!” he said. “That. That is what I’m looking for. It should be right–here,” he jabbed at the jumbled shelf, “and it’s not. And I didn’t move it. And I don’t see it around here. Help me look for it.”
“Well, it’s good to know you haven’t forgotten how to give orders,” Belle said, bending to examine the faded page. “The Coffer of Divers Sorceries,” she read aloud. She examined the picture, of a small box, ornately inlaid with rare woods, metals, and stones, and then read the description. She gasped. “Rumple, this is terrible. If someone had this thing, and they didn’t know how to use it, I mean, since you brought magic back….”
“Even in the world without magic, someone could do a lot of damage. And it would be worse if someone did know how to use it.”
“Does anyone here know how to use it? What about–
“Yes, Regina. If she had this box, this coffer, what could she do?”
“Regina doesn’t know how to use it. No one here does.”
“Except you.”
“Not even me. Not really. I had a special vault in the castle. One you never knew about. That’s where I kept objects and–artifacts–too dangerous even for The Dark One. The Coffer was in there.”
Belle set the enormous book down on the counter and rubbed her temples. The sky was getting light; the sun would rise soon; the town was in terrible danger from an ancient mysterious magic, and she was hungry. Rumpelstiltskin was still digging around in the display cases, kneeling to excavate the bottom shelf of a heavy secretary, his trousers accumulating dust and lint from the floor. “Rumple, stop.” He paused and looked up at her. “We need to go about this sensibly. Logically. Let’s get some breakfast. Then we can think.”

Brace yourself.- CH

‘I don’t know how to tell you this, and I really don’t want to be the one who tells you-’ your best friend is looking down at the floor, her brows are furrowed and you already know what is coming. Play it cool, don’t let her know what you are thinking.

“Oh, come on. Spit it out, I’m a big girl, I can take it.” The words glide out of your mouth like fresh honey, it has become a trick of yours and one you are so accustomed to that you don’t realize you do it anymore. You are lying.

“He’s seeing someone else. And I hate to be the one who tells you this but he is the happiest I’ve seen him in a long time, the happiest he has been since-“ She stops dead in her tracks, realizing what was going to follow.

Since you left him.

You aren’t paying much attention any way, her words don’t offend you. Instead you find yourself holding onto the table you are sat at, working hard not to drop the glass in your hand and trying not to flee the bar you. Suddenly his arms are around you and the smell of his aftershave is all you can smell. Suddenly you are haunted with everything you ever loved about him. He was everything, he made life feel easy and made you sure that the universe had put you together on purpose, to let you know that life didn’t always have to be hard.

Everything about him moved you, the way he would smile when he kissed you, the way he would open up to you in the darkness, bodies intertwined and just as you were about to drift off to sleep his voice would appear, his darkest feelings filling the room. But you had let him go. You had let his words go unheard and the space between you two grew until there was no going back. You thought you were doing the right thing and for a little bit you honestly believed you were. But now you know it was wrong, you let him walk out of your life and never once begged from him to stay.

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Puppy Love (Literally) - Xu Minghao A.K.A The8 Imagine/Scenario

Happy The8 birthday!! Minghao is such a sweetheart and I love him so much! He’s so, incredibly talented and is so cute and sweet. I hope if not already, all his dreams come true because he’s such a hard worker. Fighting! So, the “situation” that happens in this imagine is something that actually that happened to my dad and I. We were sitting on our patio and a girl with a dog… you know what? You’ll find out when reading haha. But anyways, I just thought it’d be a really cute meeting for two people, especially if one of them adored dogs the way The8 does. Hope you enjoy~! ;)

   Puppy Love (Literally).
When your big guard dog drags you up to your embarrassment and perhaps, a crush?

Genre: Fluff, Slight Humor.

Word Count: 1598 (smh even my “drabbles” are over a thousand words)

Song that just goes well with this. :D :)

   It was the last few days of summer. The most everlasting days for people your age usually, who had encountered someone who changed the break from school in miraculous ways. You had spent most of your days in and out, doing everything but nothing. You baked, took your dog for walks, babysit some children and sometimes just stayed in all today to just rest. Children and teenagers were running along with the fresh breeze, hands linked and laughing.

   And there you were. Walking alone across your sidewalk, hands wrapped securely in the leash of your dog, letting him drift you to anywhere contently. The sun was setting and goosebumps skimmed across your skin. The sunlight warmly poured across your neighborhood, shielding everyone in a happy shade of sunlight.

   You brown, huge and bulky dog, Max, tugged you gently and you had realized you had been standing in the same spot you were two minutes ago, staring out to the street before you in a daze. You turned around, pulling at the leash in your grip, leading your dog to the opposite way back to your home but he continuously barked loudly, attracting the attention of many people. You ushered Max to stay with you, exiting the street.

  “Max!” you groaned in frustration, frowning as your dog face to face with you. “I have so much work.” You pulled out your textbook that seemed, in your opinion, to weigh more than a newborn baby. But hey, maybe it was just your personal preference.

   Sitting in the pieces of uneven grass, you looked out to the multi-coloured park that was built next to the field you were seated at. Scratching your neck, you frowned down at the unnecessarily long and jumbled and mixed words scattered across the pages. Your dog, immediately noting your dismay whimpered like the tiny puppy he once was years ago. Smiling up at him, you rubbed his head which strangely comforted you as much as it probably did to him.


   After an hour of peaceful reading with your dog running happily across the field, kids from different and kinds of points from the neighborhood excitedly crowded the park and field to indulge themselves to sports and talking, cherishing their first few of many upcoming weekends for the rest of the year since school had started. Young boys sprinted around the field and when you had finally gotten with the Frisbee a third time, you grabbed Max and ripped him from the attention children were showering him with and stormed off to your house, discarding your books somewhere near the front door and calling out that you’d be taking Max out for a walk.

   As the wind brushed past you, you looked up and a faint smile dawned on your lips, looking to the sky. A sigh left your lips when you spotted young couples walking past you, hand interlocked, laughing about things that happened at school and such. Curling up your hand that wasn’t latched onto the leash of your dog, around your waist, shivering at the breeze, you watched as younger kids were called in by their parents to come in and get ready for bed. That’s when you noticed the faint tint of blue shadowing your skin, reflecting the dark blue sky, now shining with the stars and the moon.

   Max suddenly aggressively pulled you forward and you furrowed your eyebrows at him. “What the hell, Max?”

   You jerked him back, wondering where all this newfound stubbornness did from your dog approach from. Despite his immense strength and size as a dog, he never intentionally hurt anyone. Everyone in your neighborhood loved him. You noticed that you were standing in the same neighborhood as a few nights before, when he had also decidedly got frustrated with your lack of enthusiasm to go deeper into it. What was up with him?

   “Fine, one round around and nothing more,” you warned him, letting him lead the way.

   You cautiously took a few steps on the sidewalk until Max suddenly began barking and you sighed before he took a sharp turn, your eyes widening like saucers in surprise, before eagerly running the steps to someone’s house, dragging your tripping feet with him. You had no choice but to stumble quickly on the steps behind him and he jumped loudly to the patio of the house and that’s when you had noticed four boys seated on the bench of the patio, obviously immersed in a conversation. Oh no.

   Max was now scrambled on the patio, barking loudly, and the four boys turned in shock at the sight of your huge dog practically running for joy to them. One with messy blonde hair suddenly laughed loudly, a muscular and brown haired one leaned away, a short and black haired boy breathing a sharp intake of air, scampering to the corner. And a thin boy with curly blonde hair and a dark snapback plopped on his head, chuckled at your sheepish attempts to pull your dog away.

   “I’m so sorry!” you spluttered, cheeks bursting with the colour pink. “He’s usually not like this!” you patted Max, whispering, “C’mon, get off their patio!”

   “Ah, here, let me help you,” the curly haired one offered, standing up and calmly holding the side of your dog.

   “Thanks,” you mumbled as he gently laughed as your dog raised his head to him. The boy rubbed his head and told you he thought your dog was adorable.

   “Well, I’m not him, but than you,” you laughed, attempting to seem witty, but you were way too awkward. “Usually people find him scary at first sight.”

   “Nah, he looks very loveable,” he cooed. Max finally, but incredibly reluctantly stepped off the steps, whimpering every now and then.

   “I-I’m just really sorry,” you earnestly apologized, glancing at the other three boys who were still laughing from the situation.

   The boy shook his head, a small smile gracing his lips. “No, no, please. It’s fine. It was… entertaining in a way,” he finished off, tilting his head at you.

   “Well, I guess one good thing came from it.” You nervously laughed, descending the stairs with the boy following behind you.

   “Make sure he doesn’t try to drag you anywhere,” the boy joked light-heartedly.

   “That’s going to be a little hard,” you confessed while a big smile was glued to your face. “He’s the size of every person in my neighborhood.”

   “No,” he gasped, his round eyes staring intently.

   “Yeah,” you pressed on, laughter rising as you lifted a hand to your head. “When he stands, he’s as tall as me!”

   He laughed loudly, clapping his hands in delight at your dog. “Ah, so cute.” You took this chance to look up at him, expecting to be staring at Max after his string of fond words, but you caught his gaze on you. Blushing, you stuttered out how you had to head back home and the boy admitted he had to continue planning a performance he and his friends were preparing.

   “Oh,” you sighed, rubbing your sweaty palms on your pants, secretly hoping he’d notice that you’d want to see him again.

   “I’m Minghao, by the way,” he added, bowing after the introduction. You told him your name and you both stood there. You leaned from side to side without realizing it, too lost in his gaze and pretty eyes.

   “Hey, lover boy, we have to get to work!” called the brown haired boy, waving his arms for Minghao. Trying to hide your flustered and slightly disappointed state, you swirled around, mumbling a quiet goodbye, walking quickly away.

   You reached the park that at this point, had nothing but the melodic noise of pure quietness. Until hasty and rapid footsteps were coming to your way, and warm fingers held your hand. You turned and saw Minghao. Your eyes immediately crinkled in a goofy smile and he casually waved your hands that were tightly locked together.

   “I’m going to be at the same place tomorrow, same time,” he said, biting his lip and staring at you. “Perhaps you can take your dog for another walk and hopefully he’ll run up to the patio again?”

   “Did you take that much of a liking to him?” you teased.

   “More so his owner,” he responded nonchalantly. Was he really that oblivious to what he just said was, like, actually flirty? And romantic?

   After rummaging through your head for something to say, it hit that you were just staring him, mouth opened, probably looking as dazed as a person who just woke from a deep sleep.

   He smiled once more. “You’ll come?”


   Minghao’s eyes lit up. “Great! I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He turned and you got pulled along with him, hands still wrapped up together. You made an incoherent, squeaky noise and he squeezed your hand softly, repeating your name as if it were a delicate flower. He smiled once more and ran back to the direction of his home.

   Once he was about to be out of sight, you let go of Max’s leash and jumped on a bench, squealing and letting your arms fly in the air. And looking to the sky and yelling how thankful you were for having a dog that would be a perfect and the best matchmaker ever.

   Little did you know, Minghao had looked back to see you dancing and yelling and with a thumping heart, whispered to himself how he was thankful for the exact same thing.



The sun’s warmth on his face felt like some sort of liberation after being cooped up in the cramped classroom all morning. Baz’s eyes roamed the quad as he made his way to his spot (a nice, shady nook tucked away in a quiet corner of the courtyard).

His spot wasn’t empty.

A boy with brazen curls was stuffing a pastry into his mouth with wolffish hunger. Dammit.


“What the hell are you doing?”

Simon tore his eyes away from the scone he was about to eat. Another student was standing a few feet away, staring at him with a blazing expression. There was a cup of coffee in one hand and a hefty textbook tucked under an arm.

“Eating a scone,” Simon replied flatly.

The man ran a hand through his long, silky black hair. (Simon felt a sudden urge to run his hands through his hair). “I can see that, but this is my spot.”

“This isn’t your spot.” Simon took a large bite of the scone. He didn’t give a shit about the (attractive) stranger, as long as he could eat his food before it got cold.

“I always come here,” the man persisted.

“You weren’t here five minutes ago.”

The man wrinkled his nose. Good, be disgusted with my lack of manners and get out of here.

“I was in class.”

“Shame.” He swallowed his mouthful of scone and shrugged.




Baz clenched his jaw, holding the man’s stubborn, blue gaze for a few moments before sighing. “Fine. I guess we’ll have to share the spot.”


Baz sat down onto the grass, setting his coffee aside to make room for his text book. It was the prime place to study; cool and quiet and away from the other students.

Except this student.

Baz really did try focusing on the material (a detailed description of the endosymbiotic theory), but he couldn’t keep his eyes off of the boy’s moles. They traveled up the length of his arms, across his collar bones, up his neck, onto his face.

“Why are you staring at me?”

“Because you’re making an absurd amount of noise,” Baz sneered. “Why don’t you find some manners?”

“Why don’t you find a new spot?”

Baz beat the boy to the spot the next day. Good riddance you freckly bastard.

“Don’t look so happy, I’m just late.”


Simon needed scones like he needed air. It was a morning ritual to stop by the bakery just off of campus, except he had gotten stuck at the tail end of a long line. Which was utter bullshit, he would’ve loved to see the look on the man’s face when he found Simon waiting for him with a bag of fresh scones.

The man rolled his eyes before taking a seat. Simon watched him unfold his long legs and sprawl them in front of him in the grass. He was wearing skinny jeans. Simon hated how good they looked.

He rolled his eyes. “And here I was about to have a party.”

Simon plopped down and unwrapped his scones as loud as he could. “Sorry, mate.”


“I don’t know your name.”

They had made it to the spot at the same time today.

“Do you need to?” Baz cocked an eyebrow.

The boy stuffed a steaming scone into his mouth and shrugged his shoulders. Baz had notice shrugging was practically a second language to him. “We’ve been doing this for almost two weeks.”



“My name.”

“Oh, I’m Simon.”


Baz didn’t show up for a week.


“Where the hell have you been?”

“Wow, you sound almost offended.” Baz dropped his bag into the grass and sat down beside it. “I’ve been studying.”

“You could’ve studied here.” Simon plucked absentmindedly at a loose string on his sweater.

“I can’t with you around,” Baz admitted.

“Because I’m loud and disgusting?”

More like because I want to replace your moles with my kisses. “Something like that.”


“We’ve been doing this for weeks.” Simon handed Baz a scone before taking a bite of his own.

“Yeah, and you’ve only just shared your food,” Baz mumbled around a mouthful of pastry.

That was the first time either of them had laughed in front of each other.

Simon started notice things about Baz when weeks became two months of sitting together.

Like that he was chiseled from hard marble, pale and all swooping edges. And the way his eyes match the color of the ocean before a storm. And the loose strands of black hair that fall into his forehead from the occasional bun. And everything

He wanted Baz.


Simon was an oblivious idiot. Baz didn’t take homework or text books with him anymore to the spot. He went there for the golden boy now. To hear his laugh, to memorize the trail of moles and over his skin, to breathe him in.

He wanted Simon.


“Do you even go to class?”

“Yes.” Simon fiddled with the zipper of his jacket, unable to meet Baz’s eyes. He couldn’t stop thinking about spending the day lying on the grass with their fingers entwined.

Simon had never been attracted to a boy before. This was the first time he had ever fantasized about kissing a boy. Was Baz gay? He didn’t know.

Was Simon gay? He didn’t know that either. But he did know that he wanted to feel Baz’s lips against his.

Simon’s cheeks burned under Baz’s gaze. He could see the storm clouds rolling in his eyes, sharp and grey like everything else he was, beautiful.


Simon kissed him with smiling lips and winding fingers. Baz’s hands slid beneath the hem of Simon’s tee shirt, pressing into hot skin and drawing him closer until they tumbled backwards into the grass.

It was a mess.

A beautiful mess made of tangled limbs and hungry lips.

It had become their spot, and Baz could live with that.


Words; 1,717

Pairing; chen (jongdae) x reader

Warnings; slight angst, fluff

Summary; It’s the weekend before final exams, and Y/N has been studying up until the latest hours. Until someone diligently interrupts her studies.  

A/N; This felt appropriate to write since I as well have been stressing over exams that I have in the next couple weeks, so this helped lift some stress off of me. I also apologize if this may be OOC for Chen! (well, enjoy the first imagine on my blog!!! I hope it isn’t shitty!!)

Originally posted by yahbrahchill


Your POV  

You were hunched over that small work desk in your bedroom, a small amount of light illuminated from the lamp on your desk. All of your textbooks were laid out messily in front of you, along with any crumbled up notes you could find. A sigh left your mouth as your eyes began close, gazing the at clock next to you. 1:57 AM. “God, what am I doing right now?” I muttered under my breath. I became so out of it that I failed to notice a tall, slender figure sliding through my opened window.

“Yeah, what are you doing so late?” I flinched at the sound of talking before turning around to see a face, staring from only centimeters, and illuminated by the light from behind me. “So tell me Jagiya, what are you up to so late?” I felt the pads of his fingers trace the frame of my shoulders. The familiar voice rang through my ears, it felt like his words came in one ear… and left through the other.

Apparently the arrival of Jongdae ruined my mood, because the only tone that could be heard from me at the moment was sass and annoyance. 

“Just studying Jongdae,“ I said coldly to his face before turning around to see the plain sight of my textbooks. It’s not even like I wanted to study right? I could imagine his expression at that moment, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I had just called him Jongdae, not even using a pet name for him. My tone of voice as well, I knew I sounded ice cold. I definitely wasn’t in the mood for fun right now. Final exams were ahead of me, and all I wanted was to pass. Jongdae being here was a distraction, and something in me told me that it was a bad thing. "What are you even doing here anyways?” I reached out to grab my pen, ready to ignore anything he would do, but Jongdae’s hand decided to take it right before I could. 

"What the hell?“ I shouted unintentionally at the boy, who was simply laughing pathetically at me from his own little world. But like I had said to myself, that night, you weren’t going to take his jokes for some reason. Your patience would run dry. You interrupted his fun by forcefully snatching the pen back, huffing as you landed back into your chair.

"C'mon Jagiya~ Take a little joke.” He hummed, this boy was seemed to always in a good mood, even at 2 AM apparently. You only ignored his comment and continued aimlessly scanning the random math notes you took yesterday. 

That’s when he really began to bug you. He started by coming up behind you and whispering in your ear catch your attention. He sounded like a mere child to you.

“Are you hungry?”

“Let’s cuddle.”

“Pay attention to me Jagi.”

Jongdae wanted and even needed your undivided attention, and that was exactly what he wasn’t getting at the moment.

“Y/N~,” he continuously whined at you. “Play with me!” He was acting childish with you, at the worst time.

Still ignoring Jongdae, the weird noises and yelling began. He was beginning to feel bored, and this would be his fun until you replied to him.  He snorted and made animal noises, even going as far as physically imitating the exact animal from behind you. He wasn’t going to take that some stupid books were winning over his own girlfriend.

He was in the middle of imitating a monkey when your string of patience was cut. “I’m busy Jongdae. Can’t you just leave me alone right now?” You snapped sassily at him. You turned around to look at the boy on the ground. His head was turned away from you, his head tilted down to say that he’s given. You merely scoffed before turning around, awaiting the slam of a door as he would leave you alone that night. You stressfully drove a hand through your hair and back over your face. You knew you weren’t trying to be rude to Jongdae, he was your boyfriend for god’s sake. Your intention was never to do this to him, it was your job to take care of him. You knew deep down, you secretly wanted to trash your books and lay with him in bed, but your mind knew you couldn’t exactly do that. You wanted to so badly stop him from leaving the comfort of your bedroom, you didn’t mind his weird imitations or his continuous whining. But the realization of the situation was a little short of too late.

At that moment, Jongdae had already exited your room. A door had slammed in the distance, and you had assumed he just left the house in general. You mentally slapped yourself across the face before falling face first into the science book opened in front of you.  

Jongdae’s POV  

My eyes rapidly opened from my slumber. It was the morning after Y/N had gotten snapped at me. I had woken up in a completely unfamiliar place. I slowly rose from the comfort of the pale, white bedsheets before it finally slipped into my mind. I was still at Y/N’s house. After storming out of her room, I placed myself into her guest room to take in the current situation.

"I’m busy Jongdae. Can’t you just leave me alone right now?” Her same words circled my brain.

"Is she really that mad at me?” I thought. I reached for my phone which was sprawled out randomly on the bed. The time read 10:26 AM. Underneath were multiple messages from the members, especially Suho hyung, asking about my whereabouts and disappearance. I lessened their worries by replying, but them immediately shut off the phone. My mind took over my whole being, my legs began drifting towards Y/N’s bedroom door unknowingly.

I knew I wouldn’t let such negative thoughts consume me like this. But with Y/N, it’s like she brings the real me out. It seems there are different sides to a person, you just don’t realize it. One is shadowed by the other, and you never know it’s even there. Then Y/N walked into my life. She waltzed so casually into my heart, my mind, and she found it. The side of me that was greatly hiding, that I could be so negative sometimes.

I shook myself out of my thoughts and I placed my hand gently on her doorknob, rehearsing what I would say to her, just like lines for a drama. I planned to lighten the tension between us using the side I thought I only had, I’d try and crack a few jokes while at it.

“Hey, I’m really sorry about yesterday, but can’t deny my amazing puppy impression. Which I’ll gladly show again after you forgive me?” Or should I just sing to her? Tickle her? That seems easier. I simply need to do something.

All I wanted was to quickly be over with this, I was just wanted to hold her again.  I’ve regretted every little thing I’ve done since that moment. Now here I was, trying to rewind it all.

In a rush to get it over with, I practically busted her door open. All I was met with was Y/N, asleep, her face buried in that damned textbook of hers. I sighed quietly, slowly walking towards her. I carefully brushed the hair from her face, revealing her closed eyes. Should I take her to the bed? I would’ve decided to either way. I carried Y/N up bridal style, lifting the bottom of her legs from the chair.

Slowly and as carefully as I could, I laid her down on her back. Now to decide if you’ll get into bed with her…

“She’s still angry with you, don’t do it.”

“Maybe she’ll forgive you in you do, go on!”

My mind continued its internal battle until I settled on my decision. I leaned down to lay a light kiss on her forehead, before turning on my heels to leave. “Wait.” A loud, yet strained voice called out from behind me. I knew it was Y/N, who else would it have been? “Don’t leave me.” Her tone of voice was completely different from the one she spoke in hours earlier. She sounded lonely, and tired. I braced myself, before turning around to face Y/N. She laid on her side to face me, she displayed a small smile as she reached her arms out to grab at me.  “I’m sorry Jongdae oppa.” Her voice trailed off, and she focused her vision anywhere other than me, “I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I was simply stressing over finals coming up and-”

“Shut up Y/N,” I said before slipping right into bed with her.

I laid down to face Y/N, before leaning in to press light kisses all over her face. I kissed down her face, beginning with her forehead, down to her nose, both of her cheeks, her jawline, and finally back up to her lips. I could Y/N smile into the kiss as I placed both of my hands lightly in her cheeks. Soon enough, the playful kisses turned into a full make out session. I sucked on Y/N’s lips as I moved one of my hands to the small of her back, pressing her even closer to me.  Y/N pulled away first to catch her breath, and she continued to smile at me.

Suddenly, I flipped Y/N over so that he back faced me, and she let out a small shriek from my sudden movements. You could tell she realized what I was trying to do as she giggled and pressed her back against my chest on her own. I draped an arm around her waist and pressed my head against the crook of her neck.

“I should be the one apologizing you know? I was the one who initiated your irritancy, You know I love you and I was being selfish. I wanted your attention Jagi.” I mumbled against her soft skin while rubbing circles into her sides. “I promise I’ll help you the next time you study,” I finished off my small speech.

“No you won’t.” “

Why not?”

“Because next time I’ll pay attention to you instead.”

“Ah~ That’s better Jagi.”

6) Falling In Reverse- A Park Jimin Novel

1) ~ 2) ~ 3) ~ 4) ~ 5) ~ 6)

1 city. 2 People. 3 words. And only 6 months of time to say them.

The first thing I notice while being cornered by a group of angry girls is how cold the hallway is. You’d think with the seasons growing chillier they’d crank up the heat in this fancy little establishment, but the marble of the wall is like an ice block against my back as a small Korean girl shoves a painted finger in my face.

“What kind of blackmail do you have on him?” She seethes, four other girls nodding furiously behind her. “Just because you’re a foreigner doesn’t mean that the rules don’t apply to you here, Eun-ha is supposed to be with Jiminnie- oppa. Not you.”

I open my mouth, close it, then open it again to let out a cackling laugh, raising my eyebrows in disbelief as I choke out. “You think… I… want that doofus?” I double over, clutching my sides and dramatically wiping tears from my eyes. “The only reason he’s talking to me is too look good to the public.”

One of the girls in back pushes her friend aside and gets in my face, going from zero to one hundred real quick. “Are you calling Jiminnie- oppa fake?” She bares her teeth and narrows her already thin eyes.

“I’m not calling him the realest person I’ve met…” I counter, almost to myself, coming out of it when they crowd me in further.

Take it back.” They snarl at once, a girl in the back reaching up to push me back into the wall. My temper flares, shit hitting the fan as I open my mouth to tell them to back up before another voice interrupts me.

“What’s going on?” Jimin’s light voice is serious and dark, all the girls immediately flocking back and smiling like they weren’t just bullying me in the hallway. “Sienna, are you okay?”

“We were just saying hello.” One of the girls lies through her straight teeth.

Jimin comes forward and takes hold of my forearm, getting me from the corner of the hall and at his side, making the four girls shift in annoyance and anger. I’m aggravated by the way Jimin thinks I need him, I’m mad at the fact that all he’s doing is making things ten times worse. And I’m especially upset by the fact that he thinks he can just touch me and pull me wherever he wants.     

“I don’t need your fucking help.” I grumble, ripping my arm from his grip and turning away from him down the hall, hearing him call my name, but not caring. “I don’t need you.” I say, almost to myself, brewing in irritation.

Storming down the stairs, I blaze through the front lobby, littered with people mingling about their first day back, colliding head on with someone in my haste. The girl apologizes frantically, Korean thick with an accent I can’t describe until I look up at her.

Russian. She has to be. Long, blonde hair, and stunning blue eyes that are so bright they blend in with the whites. Her brows lift with some sort of recognition and she straightens the books in her arms. “Ahhh, you’re the American girl everyone is whispering about.” She says in clear English, smiling at me amiably. “Sienna, right? I’m Katya, but people call me Liz.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Liz.” I shake her outstretched hand and laugh. “Sorry about bumping into you, I’m kind of in a rush.”

“Running from Mr. Park Jimin?” She gives me a gleaming eye, shrugging her thin shoulders. “I saw him go up there a few minutes ago. I kind of just assumed since he could just get to his dorm faster from the other set of stairs.”

“Yeah..” I trail, unsure of what to say.

“Well, I gotta run, but I’m in dorm 612 if you need anything, and we have a few classes together so I’ll see you then!” She hurries past me in a rush of floral scented lotion and book pages.  

Standing alone once more, I realize the weight of people around me, glancing at me and talking to one another in hushed voices. I shake off the looks with a thick swallow and push out the doors, a cloudy sky and speckled sidewalk meeting me bleakly. The rain has let up over the course of the day, but the sky seems ready to burst again as little sprinkles fall across the pavement.

The chilling air cuts through my sweater, but that doesn’t stop me from venturing out into the courtyard, my blood boiling with disbelief. How could I have already built a reputation after one day of being here? Why is it so damn hard to just fly under the radar for a few months until I can get out of here? What is the reason for why things can’t just go smoothly?

Park Jimin. 

Park Jimin is the reason.

Cursing to myself when I hear footsteps coming behind me, I decide to ignore the presence of him completely, looking at the sky and relishing in the cold feeling of raindrops on my skin.  

“Sienna! Hey! I came up there because I have to tell you something.”

“I don’t need your help.” I repeat what I said earlier, ignoring his words and crossing my arms, keeping my back to him. “I don’t need you.”  

“But I do.” He says, voice deep and serious.

My lips part in surprise and unexpectancy, the salt of rain sprinkling my tastebuds as my stomach does foreign things that make me want to throw up.

“Or your sister does.” He rushes on a moment too late as I release a breath. “Something happened to her today, she got sent to the infirmary.”

“What?” I spin around, guard dropping and pride dissolving at the mention of her. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Jimin scratches the back of his neck, rain beginning to stain his shirt like tears. “She hasn’t woken up to tell us.”

Thoughts? Emotions? Feels? You know where my ask box is. Much love~

~Admin Eggplant

Harry Dresden

Started reading Storm Front today. It’s the first novel in The Dresden Files, the fantasy series of Jim Butcher featuring Harry Dresden, a wizard investigator. Got curious about the series when I saw a bunch of books in National Bookstore. Dresden, in book covers, reminds me of John Constantine, only darker and grittier, some sorta cowboy from hell. I figure if I dig Constantine, then I’ll probably dig Dresden, as I’m a fan of wisecracks and impertinence and general misanthropy. And so that was escapism for the day. In other news: I feel bad that I wasn’t able to take advantage of the cloudy weather to bike this morning, as I woke up groggy from having slept late last night watching The Lost City of Z with the wifey. There was a time I could function well despite having only three hours of sleep. No longer the case now…

[psst: brief mention of sex, several sensuous things that could potentially be sexual, mentions of touches. not your thing, please scroll past; take care of yourself.]

I want the type of relationship where we can climb the antenna onto our roof to watch fireworks or meteor showers, where our fights are calm discussions that end in hugs and little nose touches, where we can ambush each other with dart guns, where we own huge beanbags and cuddle on them non-stop, where we can come home after a party and strip out of our formal clothes and sit on the closet floor passing a 2-liter of root beer back and forth, where we can eat dessert first and split a pizza in our pajamas and we always tell each other we’re beautiful.
Where we can have light saber duels, sing along to our favorite music, share books at the same time, read aloud to each other, lie one atop the other to cuddle, rush outside to feel the gust front before a storm and then dance like idiots in the pouring rain.
Where we can shower together and wash each other’s hair. Where we buy each other’s favorite candy as surprises even if it is expensive. Where we both make each other feel good about our bodies, where we’re both comfortable with the other person, where we can maybe have sex but maybe not and it doesn’t really matter anyway.
A relationship that’s a peaceful sleepover with your best friend every night. A relationship where we live passionately, sing and laugh loudly, and care deeply about each other. Where we discuss the dumb little things like how to pronounce “either” as very serious topics, where we can fall asleep on each other, where we can high-five at our wedding, pull off stupid trampoline stunts, cosplay together, fail at cooking together, and ultimately spend some time apart so we can appreciate each other’s presence even more.