the quality's worse than the rest but just go with it

post-emoji movie Trauma

WARNING: the following text contains spoilers and can be considered disturbing to some readers. especially my brain, because it’s leaking out my ears after typing this.

This is the first movie ever I’ve gone to see on opening night. And let me just say that, for the record, I’m glad I went to watch with friends. Without them, I would have most likely calmly exited the room, climbed up to the roof, and dived straight off.

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why lance (probably) won’t be the red paladin, and also why keith (probably) won’t be the black paladin

alright, so, chances are you’ve watched and rewatched the season three trailer multiple times. or, at least, i have. in it, we see lance in both the blue lion and the red lion, and we also see keith in the black lion. 

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The Brown Bottle

Pairings: Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Omega!Werewolf!Reader - A/B/O

Word Count: 3400+

Summary: Sam is rough around the edges, you do your best to avoid him until one night you discover he’s your true mate and instincts take over. This is really just a lot of smut and a little plot to ease things along. 

My twist on a/b/o dynamics.

Beta:  @just-another-busy-fangirl

Warnings: NSFW gif, knotting, mating, breeding, dominance, claiming, fingering, unprotected sex, biting, dirty talk, rough sex, some dom/sub overtones.

Your name: submit What is this?





You stop in your tracks, clutching an open hand over your abdomen.

“Shit,” you mumble under your breath as an afterthought. Shit doesn’t quite do this kind of pain justice. This cycle’s heat has brought what your mother, Millie (owner and proprietor of The Brown Bottle), refers to as The Real Motherfuckers. The kind of cramps that stop a woman unexpectedly while on her way to work well after sundown. The two generic suppressants you popped an hour earlier aren’t working as well as you hoped and you find yourself wishing you’d taken a third.

These are indeed The Real Motherfuckers.

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DM: so you want into this store, and it’s small, but it’s filled with stuff.

Me: like a fantasy dollar store?

DM:….sure. Anyway, you 5 go up the counter where a goblin lady is. She asks if she can help you

Rest Of Party: *gets things they need, like health potions and gadgets.*

Me: do you have any hats?

DM: What?

Me: like really cool wizard hats. You know? But like subtle. And mysterious.

Goblin Lady/DM: uh, there is this one what but it’s really worse for wear. It has blood or rust and just-just grossness on it.

Me: is it better quality than my hat now?

DM: no

Me: I’ll take it.

lockedinmybody  asked:

daliaaaaa could you tell me your fave sterek fics please?? :)

How could you ask me this? Do you have any idea how many sterek fics I’ve read over the years? How many I’ve loved?

This is a short list of the very few I could think of off the top of my head. I think I’ll probably make a recs page, because I’ve been meaning to for a long time. I have a recs tag, but that includes different pairings as well.


Sideways and Slantways and Longways and Backways

“I called you a slave-driver!” Stiles cried hysterically. “I called you an ogre! I stole all the blue paperclips!”
Derek raised an eyebrow at him.
“That’s company property!” he shouted, waving his arms madly in distress.
Derek ran a hand over his face. “It’s not theft if the vice president of the company gives you permission.”

(Otherwise known as the Elevator AU)

The Price

Stiles must surrender the most important thing in his life to protect the town… and no one can figure out what it was.

Around The Bend

The first time Derek catches sight of the new yoga instructor, Stiles is in the middle of showing a class how to do downward-facing dog. Derek walks into a wall.

Things don’t exactly improve from there.

Derek can’t stop staring at Stiles, the bendy new yoga instructor at his family’s gym. Stiles thinks Derek’s a repressed homophobe who hates Stiles for making him want the D. They fall in love.

can’t be hateful, gotta be grateful

“Be cool, Dad, we’ve decided to con Grandma.”

(Or, the one where the Stilinski men drag Derek to Thanksgiving dinner at Grandma’s and she gets the right wrong idea.)

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Wonder Woman + Blame

Wonder Woman is the story of a demigoddess who wants to save the world coming to terms with why it should be saved. In hero stories, the default is always that these are innocent people and therefore they deserve to live. 

But what if they’re not innocent? What if no one is.

That’s the complicating factor that Wonder Woman presents. It’s a beautiful, tragic/hopeful nod to the complex reality of war and peace. This is a long one but bear with me. I promise it goes someplace interesting.

Diana: Once I find and destroy Ares, the German armies will be freed from his influence, and they will be good men again, and the world will be better.

This is Diana’s mission statement. She believes the stories her mother told her about men’s innocent nature whole-heartedly and will do anything to return them to that state.

Diana: Who took this from your people?
Chief: [Guestures to Steve] His people.

Steve introduces himself to Diana as “one of the good guys.” But, as much as she comes to know his goodness and integrity, she also comes to know him as a liar, a killer, and a smuggler. Now he’s implicated in genocide. He’s the one of the bad guys in someone else’s story.

Luddendorf: Peace is just an armistice in an endless war.

The writers took some artistic license with this so-called quote from Thucydides, but it accomplishes two things. One, it shows that Diana has been well-tutored in ancient philosophies of war. Two, it sets up the idea of an armistice as a negative outcome of war. Since we have the benefit of history, as viewers we know the WWI Armistice is a direct cause of WWII. 

Diana: They don’t deserve our help, Steve!
Steve: It’s not about deserve! Maybe we don’t! But it’s not about that, it’s about what you believe. You don’t think I get it after what I’ve seen out there? You don’t think I wish I could tell you it was one bad guy to blame? It’s not! We’re all to blame.
Diana: I am not.
Steve: But maybe I am. Please. If you believe that this war should stop, if you want to stop it, help me stop it. Right now.

This is Steve Trevor’s mission statement. He understands that people can be evil, but he still doesn’t want thousands more to die. As a soldier, he has done horrible things in this war and others. He has perpetuated the endless fighting — an inch gained in WWI is two inches that have to be reclaimed. And yet. This war has to stop, and Steve will do anything in his limited power to stop it.

Chief: [Looking at the aircraft] What is it?
Steve: The future.

Steve looks at the plane full of explosive chemicals and describes it as, “The future.” The future holds more horrors than even The War to End all Wars imagined. He knows this. But he still believes in sacrificing his life to save today. To save the very people who will use these kinds of weapons in the future. That is goddamn tragic and beautiful and unsettling.

Ares: They start these wars on their own. All I do is orchestrate an armistice that I know they cannot keep in the hopes that they will destroy themselves. But it has never been enough. Until you.

Ares is not responsible for WWI. I don’t understand the confusion around this because the screenwriters say it blatantly. Diana is right that Ares is involved, but he is “not who [she] thought [he] was.” He isn’t to blame. He isn’t a mind-controller; he’s a whisperer. He hasn’t infiltrated human society to become an emperor, only an advisor. Humans are to blame, and humans will be their own undoing. Ares is trying to prove himself right, so, of course, he wouldn’t directly intervene whether or not he could.

Ares: Yes, Diana! Take them all! Finally, you see. Look at this world. Mankind did this. Not me! They are ugly, filled with hatred. Weak! Just like your Captain Trevor, gone and left you nothing. Pathetic He deserved to burn. 

Diana suffers loss, and she strikes out — a vengeful god. Ares is gleeful. He has to undermine what Steve means to her so that she will complete her transformation into Destroyer God, Hater of Humans. That, of course, pisses her off. So he tries another tact. Nevermind Steve, what about the worse possible vision of humanity? 

Ares: Look at her [Maru] and tell me I’m wrong! She is the perfect example of these humans and unworthy of your sympathy in every way. You know that she deserves it. They all do. Do it! 

A woman who kills in horrific ways for pleasure. Someone who poisoned herself, mind, body, and soul. She does deserve to die. She’s a psychopath with no redeeming qualities (props to the actress, though, for her epic villain laugh). And yet Diana chooses not to destroy her. 

Now, Diana does kill. It’s part of her character. But she does not kill when she doesn’t have to. If she were in a dire situation where Maru has to be killed to save others, you betcha she’s going down. But Ares is asking Diana to be judge, jury, and executioner. The thing is, she can be. She is not to blame. But she won’t. Because Steve, her representative of humanity, loves her and believes she can save the world. It’s a promise between them. And a promise is unbreakable.

Diana: You’re wrong about them. They’re everything you say but so much more. 
Ares: Lies! They do not deserve your protection!
Diana: It’s not about deserve. It’s about what you believe. And I believe in love.

Let’s talk about the elephant in the room here. This screenplay has taken Greek mythology and twisted it into a Christian parable. Turn the other cheek. Love thine enemy. All that jazz. But separate from that, Diana’s choice to love is the right one because of what it represents about our own history.

At the end of WWI, the Allies win. They believe with everything they have that the people of the Central powers deserve to pay for the carnage and destruction. Despite people like Vera Britton advocating for both sides to realize that war itself is the evil and an armistice at such a steep cost cannot possibly lead to lasting peace, the Allies take their pound of flesh. And so the German people let a genocidal maniac take over their country. That’s a bit of simplification, but do some Googling and the gist is there.

Now, what happened after WWII? The Allies rebuilt East/West Germany. The Allies rebuilt Japan. WWII was objectively more horrible and deadly than WWII, but, afterward, there was no armistice. (There wasn’t peace, either. The deconstruction of colonialism in the midst of the Cold War saw to that.) But WWIII hasn’t happened yet. Nuclear weapons haven’t been used again. Chemical weapons use is treated as a horrific act, not an everyday incident. That’s huge

War is perpetual as long as we perpetuate it. Everyone has a justification. And, yes, no justice, no peace. Sometimes you have to go to war to make things right. But at some point, the passing along of blame has to stop or there will never be peace. The hardest thing in the world is to love your enemy if they have wronged you. The hardest thing on this earth is convincing people to love each other enough to share their wealth, their privilege, their protection, their lives. It seems impossible to teach people who hate to love. But, in the end, that’s only thing that will save us.

Ares represents hate. He hates humans for reasons even Diana acknowledges as valid. But Diana can know and understand that hatred without giving into it. She has a complex view of human nature that allows her to retain her idealism. Hate doesn’t have the power here. Love does. That’s why she can destroy Ares. That’s why the German soldiers can breathe fresh air and hug strangers from the other side. In that moment and for a time after, love wins. 

As for the rest of this “century of horrors”? That’s “a different story altogether.”

Diana: I used to want to save the world. To end war and bring peace to mankind. But then I glimpsed a darkness that lives within their light, and learned that within every one of them there will always be both. A choice each much make for themselves. Something no hero will ever defeat. And now I know that only love can truly save the world.

The thesis of this film is that war makes everyone complicit. Everyone is to blame. There are no innocents for a divine hero like Diana to save. But she does what she can because she believes in us and our better angels. Yeah, this is just a superhero movie. But that is an important message, and, sadly, an all-too-rare one.

Rocky Road

Rocky Road
Ship:
Jungkook | Reader
Description: After dumping your all too vanilla ex, you want to go back to your fuck buddy, who added a bit more flavor to your sex life.
Warning: Dom!Kook, Slapping, Spanking, Exhibitionism, Blowjob, Degrading Names, Master Kink, Hair Pulling, Choking, Intercourse
Word Count: 5,378
A/N: It’s 3:31 and I’m going to die. But I’ve been really craving dom!Kook and this idea seemed too good to pass up. Enjoy!

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fragile ones

on ao3

title taken from 10am gare du nord by keaton henson. i love his music so much its just so….open and raw? it felt fitting for a fic like this, it just really works for late nights and emotional talks idk

i started this fic back at the end of august on a bad night and there isnt much plot to it just…speculation i guess. a character study of alya? but in this au?? im not sure. theres not much to it at all and its a little all over, but it was a fic i felt like i had to write

enjoy


Alya wakes up with her heart in her throat and her hands tearing at her hair. She groans and rests her forehead on her knees.

If only he’d shut up.

She checks the time. It’s only three, because of course it’s unreasonable to ask for a full night’s sleep. She stays where she is for a little while longer, curled up in a ball and hugging a pillow, letting her heart rate level out and her head slow its spin. When she stops feeling like she’ll throw up if she moves, she slides out of bed and pads into the bathroom.

Alya avoids the floorboards that creak and is careful to close the door softly, but it doesn’t really matter. After a few months, her family got used to her getting up at strange hours and wandering around the house. Once she stopped screaming, it was easier for them to sleep through her nightmares.

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iamdragoonthegreat  asked:

Hey mom, do you have any tips for dealing with sinus pressure and the related face/headaches? I have allergies, and I also tend to get pressure in my face whenever I get a cold or flu or stress or if the wind is blowing or there are stars in the sky, just basically always. Short of decapitation, I've got no idea how to handle this chronic nonsense.

Considering I just sneezed and went temporarily blind from the pressure build up in my skull, same. I suffer from severe chronic rhinitis as well as a pretty much permanent case of sinusitis they can’t cure, we found it when they did a CT scan for my dental exam and my dentist went “omg your sinuses!”. Which is always what you want to hear when your head is trapped in a rotating dome of uranium.

I’m generally in pain 90% of the time from the pressure this causes. So I feel you on the whole face headache thing <3

Not a lot of things help me I’m afraid, but steam facial baths have given me some relief when the pressure is caused by sinusitis (and sometimes allergies, but mostly the sinuses) Some people will swear blind that dropping eucalyptus oil in the water helps but honestly all that does is make my eyes water and most of the menthol solutions you can buy pre-blended don’t actually help you breathe more easily, it just makes your airways think they’re not inflamed (due to the numbing agents menthol possesses) so all you get is a feeling of relief, which is why things like those vicks inhalers are bullshit. 

The majority of the time it’s heat + steam that actually helps the most.

 You can also, if you have the facilities just steam up your bathroom, which is what my parents do for my brother (who has asthma and CF) when he has a bad cold, if sitting with your head craned over a bowl of boiling water is not feasible for you.

Things like sudafed can also offer temporary relief, but my doctor hates it with a passion because of what it can do to your blood pressure. Depending on where you are in the world, you’re not even getting the real sudafed otc because it’s been used to cut meth, so you wind up needing a prescription for the real stuff which again is only for temporary relief and not recommended for prolonged use.

If it’s more caused from allergies, my allergist recommended a nasal spray called Flonase which you can buy otc. You could also try a saline spray.

I’m actually supposed to start using a neti pot on the regular as per his instructions, but I’m really phobic of things going up my nose (bad childhood memory) so I’ve yet to do it, so who knows, it may be the cure for all my ailments. Just always make sure you don’t use plain tap water. Boil it first to kill anything that regular filtration might not have taken care of. Then let it cool. I’d like to say “obviously” but according to my friend who is an ER nurse it is apparently not so obvious. You can buy little kits with saline packets in them too.

You might also want to make sure you’re getting enough fluids, especially if you take an antihistmaine on the regular, like I do. They actually dry out the mucous membrane too well if you’re on them for prolonged periods of time (mine have actually started to affect my menstrual cycle, so that’s a thing) and can start to make the problem worse, so making sure you’ve got enough fluid intake can be really beneficial. If I’m having a particularly bad day I’ll drink hot lemon water rather than cold. It might not be as refreshing feeling, especially in the summer, but it helps my airways not hate me quite as much.

You may also want to look into an air purifier (the $40 ones work just as well as the $200 ones provided you keep them clean) and keep it running 24/7 in the room where you spend the most time. If you’ve got central air, maybe check and see the last time the vents were cleaned, as that can hugely impact your quality of air. If you do have central air and you are the one in control of it, make sure you change the filter on the duct one a month. Don’t bother with the expensive filters. The $2 cheap pleated ones work just as well as the $30+ one, just make sure you change it out every month. We recently had our house air ducts cleaned and my dust allergy is a lot better.

Also check the rest of your environment, is it clean or dusty? Are you at risk from mold spores? Does outside pollution make it worse? I love my vogmask, it’s made cleaning so much easier to deal with, not to mention helping to protect me from the pollen that wants me dead (fuck you too birch trees).

A humidifier might also be beneficial for you too, but again, don’t add anything into the water, I see so many posts saying things like “just add a few drops of XYZ into your humidifier to clarify the air” and I always want to scream because not only are you potentially wrecking the machine, but also quite possibly irritating your nose/lungs more because it’s one more thing for your body to try and deal with processing. So again, plain water is fine.

If I’ve suggested things you’ve already tried to little or no avail, then I offer you my sympathy and solidarity. Cause fuck this shit.

Kagerou Daze Manga - Chapter 48: RED I

R E D I

Comic GENE 3月 issue (read right to left)
Manga by: Satou Mahiro
Original by: Jin (Shizen no Teki-P)
Character Designs by: Shidu, Wannyanpuu

Disclaimer: Only the scanning of the pages belong to me.

Momo: Hibiya-kun!

Ene: Didn’t you leave with the Fox Eyes-san!?

Hibiya: That…After that something horrible happened…
Please help me, Onee-chan.

Momo: …’kay!

※Permission for large use/reUP of scans is highly appreciated.
Please message (through ask). Off-anon is replied to privately.

Please support the series when you can!

Comments:

Seriously thought there was nothing news worthy on this month’s chapter while I was overseas since I heard nothing. Came back and realise Jin still have no chill.

So back in the present after Ayano’s reason on why she and the siblings don’t live together anymore! But after their talk, they realise Momo had snuck out to continue her search for her friend, Hiyori. Soon the remaining Children will realise there was a lie in what they thought they knew and they were tricked. 

Going to try some translation again. Shout out to @fuyuyuu for talking to me with this and explained some parts on what happened. Oh! And I try to scan it in a new way, thinking this way the quality of the scan is better

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Cardiovascular Palpitations Pt. 2 (ft. Jeongguk) [M]

Originally posted by nnochu

→ fluff, smut, angst, really fuckign fluffy smut 10k
→ friends with benefits au, doctors au ft Taehyung
part 1 | part 2 | story talk

Yay! This was super cute but I’m seriously so glad its over lol I didn’t edit so its not my best work but it’s officially the longest thing I’ve ever written so I hope you like it! Let me know what you think, and I’ll be uploading a story talk and drabbles about this au soon! 

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Mission Bad Boy - 3

Plot: What if you could win 100,000 Won by giving someone a makeover? But here’s the catch – you have 6 months to turn a nerdy, anti-social male into the school’s biggest heartthrob.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Angst, Highschool au!

Notes: Just a little present for you guys, and I wanted to make up for the fact that I won’t be able to post for a while. I hope you enjoy! 5.4 k Words

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Originally posted by knjtrash

The days which followed were completely dedicated to Kim Namjoon’s transformation. You figured that you should work on changing his outward behaviour before changing the way he looked. If the physical transformation happened first and he didn’t have the personality to suit it, people could just call him fake. The bullying would just get worse.

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anonymous asked:

Rfa+minor trio reacting to mc being the worst cook in history but she looks so goddamn optimistic that they cant say her food is shit so its THE SHIT

✿ i may or may not have done some of these things over the years. which ones? guess.

Yoosung

  • Didn’t realize someone could mess up more than him.
  • It’s not that your food is misshapen. Yoosung’s food is misshapen. Yours positively looks diseased - like, what are those weird spots
  • are those sesame seeds?
  • why did you put sesame seeds in your eggs.
  • Tries to be kind about correcting your mistakes, and is as endlessly positive as you are about improving.
  • “It’s really good now! But I bet if we do this, it’ll be even better!”
  • This man learns to lie like a saint.

Zen

  • Since you’re the perfect person, you have to be the perfect cook, right?
  • WRONG.
  • WRONG.
  • ZEN HAS NEVER BEEN MORE WRONG IN HIS LIFE, AND HE IS THE KING OF POOR DECISIONS.
  • there is absolutely no way he’s going to spoil that delightful expression on his face though so he chugs beer to drown out the taste of Sin Itself.
  • Treats eating your cooking as a harrowing experience he must go through where the reward is your smile.
  • Always has beer with his meals, though. Always.

Jaehee

  • She grew up in an abusive household where her presence was constantly dismissed, derided, and unwanted, and she still has never experienced anything as awkward as this moment.
  • How do you not know?
  • How do you not see?
  • THE MEAT IS BURNED ON THE OUTSIDE AND RAW ON THE INSIDE, HOW DID YOU DO THIS.
  • She tries to tell you but you’re just
  • you’re just so happy and
  • She starts walking cooking shows with you and prays it’ll do something to fix the travesty that is your food.

Jumin

  • Never, not once, has Jumin encountered bad cooking, so he doesn’t actually realize you’re doing anything wrong.
  • He just think’s that putting a cup of black pepper instead of a tablespoon into food is “a thing commoners do”, and treats it like a curiosity.
  • “How peculiar. Does the spiciness disguise the poor quality of the ingredients?”
  • “I see… is the texture both crunchy and hard to compensate for the pasta’s blandness?”
  • “Hmn… do the black parts give it extra flavor?”
  • doesn’t understand why you get mad after that. oops.

707

  • He puts his hands on his shoulders. He stares into your eyes. “MC,” he says gravely, like he’s about to deliver a terminal diagnosis. “I regret to inform you that you cannot cook.”
  • your heart is shattered to pieces, but before you can emotionally collapse, Seven continues.
  • “However, my love! Do not despair. This affords us with an excellent opportunity. Do you know what that is?”
  • You shake your head mutely, and Seven’s grin lights up the room.
  • “I can’t cook either. So together, we’re going to make the worst dish possible, and we’re going to force everyone else to eat it.”
  • It becomes a game. The rest of the RFA thinks you and Seven are unaware of how bad your Ratatouille de Actual Live Rats with Diced Grape Tomato Sauce actually is, and while they’d tell Seven to buzz off, they can’t tell you. So faced with your unending cheer, they eat it.
  • They consume it.
  • You make a corporate heir, a famous actor, and a former secret agent consume your terrible cooking.
  • you are monsters.

V

  • Doesn’t grimace. Doesn’t cower. Doesn’t say a word. He just smiles and says “thank you” when you present him al dente pasta that probably hasn’t actually ever touched water.
  • It’s not a lie. It’s genuine. This man doesn’t care that it’s garbage. You being happy and you trying to make him happy by spending time on something is enough for him.
  • Even when you ruin a slow cooked pot-roast by putting jelly in it.
  • Even then, he still smiles, eats it, and says he loves you.

Unknown (Saeran)

  • Like his twin, he’s also bad at cooking. Unlike his twin, he isn’t going to admit it, and he unknowingly joins you in being a terrifying force in the kitchen.
  • Dishes become exponentially worse when touched by the two of you. Saeran wants to add sprinkles, you want to add frosting, and suddenly your lasagna looks like a birthday cake.
  • “Let’s add candles! It can be dessert.”
  • The person who bears the brunt of your abuse is Seven, who doesn’t have the heart to tell either of you how awful your food is.
  • It culminates in you sending him to the hospital.
  • You’re enrolled in classes after that, becoming a poor home ec teacher’s problem.

Vanderwood

  • Vanderwood wakes up at 3AM to find you sobbing over the stove, its glass top shattered and spices scattered everywhere on the floor.
  • Apparently, you’d been possessed by the fae desire to make gingerbread cookies. Apparently, you were also too short to reach the cinnamon and cloves the recipe called for, and - in your flailing - the glass bottles all spilled out of the cabinet, breaking the stove, hitting you on the head, and scattering all over the floor.
  • In a vacuum, this might be an incidence of clumsy-cute, but you do this constantly. In a previous life you must have angered the god of cooking because kitchen appliances are always trying to kill you.
  • Vanderwood had to save you when you got your hair caught in the mixer. Vanderwood has had to bandage your wounds when you burned yourself on the stove. Vanderwood has had to help you pick up all the groceries from a collapsed fridge, and Vanderwood proceeds to baby-proof the kitchen and ban you from unsupervised cooking.
  • It’s for your own good, they say. I don’t want to come in here and find your decapitated body.
  • there is not a lot you can do in the face of their Motherly Tone.

anonymous asked:

Since i wasn't feeling good today, I had a thought.. What IF one of the children gets sick ? Like imagine Aizawa trying to separete the sick one from the healty ones and then getting a panic attack when another gets ill. Jest imagine(And can i have a hug ? Please?)

Aaaah, I’m so sorry to hear that, anon! First of all, have the biggest hug I can offer!

Then, if you’re looking for “The-children-are-sick-and-Aizawa-cares-a-whole-lot”-fics, then there is this wonderful piece of fiction that izuqu wrote some time ago right here: 

Click the link

Just in case you need more of that cuteness.

And now, here we go!

(It’s slightly rushed, I only have a bit more than half an hour break, so I’m sorry if the quality lacks a bit! *bows*)

_____________________________________________________________

It had started off with a sneeze, loud and surprising.

Aizawa blinked one eye open almost instantly, shifting slightly where he was lying on the ground, wrapped in his sleeping bag, to gaze over at the living room couch. There, Uraraka was taking a tissue from Tsuyu with a sniffled “Thanks”, tooting into it.

“Uraraka-san, are you alright?” Iida asked, immediately at the girl’s side before Aizawa could even move to stand up.

“I’m fine, I’m fine! Just my nose is a bit itchy!” The girl hurried to reassure, even though her voice was nasally and hoarse. Her face was slightly red and she sneezed again before she could even finish her sentence…

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the wedding planners (一) | jjk

↳ alternative title: ‘'til death do us part’? i’d rather die than be with you’

[DISCONTINUED - please see my explanation here]

summary: you do a lot for your best friend. a lot. so much so, that you are willingly spending months working with Asshole Supreme, Number One Greaser, Pretentiously Cocky Jeon Jungkook just for the sake of his wedding, and we all know how that’s going to work out (not very well). 

{enemies to lovers!au}

pairing: jungkook x female reader (and some side yoonseok)
word count: 6k
genre: fluff, smut, angst (soon to come!)
warnings: descriptive smut and lots of swearing
a/n: here it is! this is my first series on this blog so forgive me if the spacing of the chapters is a little… rough, but i promise to update as often as i can! i’m in love with the enemies-to-lovers au so i’m so pumped to be releasing one of my own! enjoy! (in case u were wondering what that line is in parentheses, it’s just the number 1 in mandarin)

The first time you met Jeon Jungkook was at Hoseok’s birthday party. The memory will forever be engraved in your brain, seeing Jeon Jungkook cruise on over to you after being directed towards you by Yoongi himself, swirling a drink in his hand and plastering the greasiest smile he could onto his face. Yoongi must have supposed that if he and Hoseok got along so well, then there would be no reason why you and Jungkook wouldn’t. But he was wrong, because there were very many reasons why. A majority of them centered around the fact that Jeon Jungkook was just absolutely, one hundred percent full of himself, and there’s nothing worse than a man with an ego.

So, in short, rather than hitting it off, the both of you just ended up wanting to hit each other, and that’s never a good sign.

Three years later, nothing much has changed, only that Hoseok and Yoongi are now engaged instead of just almost-boyfriends, and you and Jungkook have gone from being just bothersome to each other to mutual loathing, so that’s just great.


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Do You Know Me?

Oh man. I’m hooked (HAHAHA…sorry). I wrote some Sidon x Link. Because I am weak for that stupid sweet sharkboy. This one is for @cinensis, who is aboard this ship with me and as thanks for his awesome support. ENJOY.

All fluff - cut for length, not for content.

Originally posted by potionxshop

Link wakes up sweating and panting, the silken seaplant sheets a tangle around him. It’s hard to tell if he has made any sort of noise in his sleep, but his throat feels rough, like he’s been inhaling small pieces of rock. The private bedchamber Prince Sidon gave him is in one of the towers overlooking the square below, where he can see the profile of Mipha’s statue from the balcony, past the gossamer curtains.

“Once this whole thing is over maybe things can go back to how they used to be when we were young.”

That’s what she had said, in the memory he had had, and perhaps that should have given him some comfort, but…he had seen her again in his dream, and her image shattered into a thousand fragments. There was chaos and screaming, pain and darkness, and then…he had awoken before there was anything more.

Sleep is the worst time for Link. Sleep, when he can’t tell where pieces of memories end and the tricks of a broken mind take over.

Link rises and puts on his simple tunic - leaving the Zora Armor neatly on the chest where he had placed it after trying it on (even the perfect fit had frustrated him, though he did not show it) - and wanders out, down the stairs to the Domain sprawling below. He knows that on the morrow, he will be called to fight the monster plaguing them, once again take on the mantle of the Champion of Hyrule, and…

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Promise? // Lee Mark

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the prompt(s): 1) Could I request a scenario for Mark like the Jungkook one you did? Except he doesn’t have to be King yet, he and the reader are just kind of sneaking around the castle and being all cute and in love then they get cAUGHT and I’m sorry this is so long!! 2) Could you write some mark Lee fluff?? Just some cute, first love type of thing?

words: 2134

category: fluff

author note: ah, mork. my precious, smol, overworked son. may he get the rest he truly deserves~ also, this is for two different requests since they both fit the same genre. please enjoy!

- destinee

Originally posted by monoka

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The Types as I Know Them (ENFP)

INTP - partner in crime award

They’re more responsible than me, LOL but I respect that. Smart artists who are interested in understanding the “how”. Generally level-headed people who know how to laugh. A solid ramble partner in crime. We can talk about things happily and intensely for hours which I really appreciate. When they’re passionate and it’s possible, the results are mind-blowing. They’re funny and loud when we’re together. The one who keeps my feet on the ground. And after you rest, my adventure buddy of choice. My best friend.

ISFJ - cutest type award

Hardworking, adorable humans. They’re some of the people I fear the least in the world because they just give off that kind of friendly but relaxed vibe around people. Considerate and quiet but open up around their friends. My pen pal and mom friend. They keep a distance like I’ve noticed with INFJs. I see one of them travelling and taking cute pictures all the time, but they are also extremely diligent (to the point of exhaustion) in their work ethic. A good person that I wish the best for.

ENFJ - hall of famer award

Can be judgmental to a fault sometimes, but they have high standards that they live by to an impressive extent. Always seems to be the one who cares the most about how people are feeling, checks on the one who feels down and picks up on it like magic. Popular from what I’ve seen, with charismatic energy and good taste. I think they’ve developed their functions well since they have a good balance of the emotional and concrete. Wants to see the world and feel the vibe.

INTJ - guru award

An interesting type for sure. We’re pretty different, but it’s intriguing, not frustrating. Needs space to process but until then is willing to sit with you and respond to conversations, especially if interested in the topic. Knowledgeable and straightforward, humorous and talented. I feel like you can learn a lot from them. Practical in their actions and words. If you don’t know about their silly streak, get ready. It’s one of my favorites.

INFJ - cup of tea award

Their minds are imaginative and yet grounded enough for me to vote them among the most likely of my friends to have a successful future. They’re sweet and studious, though they won’t tell you everything they’re thinking, and often the negative stuff escapes your immediate attention. Internally oriented and deep, and if opened up to you, surely a lifelong friend. Most likely to drink tea with you honestly, haha!

ISTJ - sure and true award

The ISTJ is your salt buddy with a sarcastic sense of humor. Honestly the best when I want to have a good laugh. They’re steadfast and logical, extremely intelligent, and focused on accomplishing their goals. They’re calm but have a good sense of humor and have some of the best smiles. Hard workers who are loyal. I know one who helped nurse a friend back to health and has often been able to perform well even under undeserving stress. A truly good person.

ENFP - bubbly award

Firecrackers who value close personal relationships more than anything. They talk through their concerns and are often very energetic and idealistic. Dream big and dream loud. Can be emotion-driven, and in need of processing time as well as a good amount of adventure. Often witty and, if they like you, going to tell you about their day in fantastical detail. Wear their hearts on their sleeves and see the world in maybes and could bes.

INFP - goals award

Supportive and does well at what they dedicate themselves to. Expect contemplative and sassy banter. An encouraging confidant, they lead with my auxilary function and are more of a processor first and a think out loud creator next, but neither is worse for the wear. Has chill comparatively haha and is refreshingly civil. Has a mind that’s aimed at all kinds of artistic endeavors. 10/10 would relax with again.

Of Wistful Dreams (Feysand)

In which Rhys dreams of his mother and sister and Feyre decides to do something about it. Angst with a healthy coating of fluff.

She saw them sometimes in his dreams, when the unbreakable bond between them wasn’t quite so easy to block. Feyre always knew that Rhys’ mother and sister must have been beautiful, but nothing in her imagination could have compared to what she saw in his mind. Where his father always seemed to be shrouded in menacing shadow (so different from Azriel’s, Feyre noted), the women of his family always seemed to bring light and laughter. In the best of Rhys’ dreams, his mother wore a wide, wicked grin so like his own that Feyre sometimes had to do a double take. His sister’s smile, on the other hand, was a much softer thing, but still no less bright. She followed devotedly after her brother, half-running until a younger Rhys would swoop down and lift her onto his shoulders. Their mother was never far behind, laughing with them both, the sound as clear to Feyre as if she had been there herself.

The dreams were wistful, wishful things that Feyre felt honored to share. But she also saw how they haunted her mate in his waking hours. He had grieved for his blood family for many years… but he also had never had the chance to truly heal from their deaths, their murders. How could he have? He was known as the most powerful High Lord in history, but too often did his subjects, did the entirety of Prythian, forget that there was a soul as fragile as any other hiding underneath all that power.

And then there were the nights where the dreams became twisted, the light turning red as blood began to fill both Rhys’ and Feyre’s visions. The bodies of his mother, of his little sister, were almost unrecognizable by the time Rhys had found them, torn apart, matching midnight hair utterly soaked with the sheer amount of blood spilled. 

Often, it was the last thing Rhys saw before he woke, pulling Feyre out of sleep with him.

Once, after a particularly grueling night, when Feyre had Rhys wrapped tightly in her arms – a vain attempt to protect him from the dreams that would do him harm – he had admitted to her that he was terrified that one day that image of their wrecked bodies would be the only thing he would remember of them both. That all those beautiful images, all those memories that kept them alive in his mind, would fade with time, leaving only blood and death and loneliness. 

Feyre hadn’t been able to find anything to say in response back then. The only thing she’d been able to do was hold him tighter and run her fingers through his midnight hair.

After weeks more of the dreams and nightmares both, however, an idea popped into her head in the form of a painting. Feyre knew what Rhys’ mother and sister looked like so well that she almost forgotten that there were no more physical reminders left of them – Rhys’ father had gone on a rampage at the loss of his mate, destroying all of her and their daughter’s possessions. Including what few images existed of them.

That very night, she began to put her plan in motion, wandering into the Rainbow to get what she needed. She spent the next few days gathering supplies, taking her time. Of all her past projects, none mattered so much as this one; she needed the perfect colors, she needed to do this right. 

Finally, she started. The process was painstakingly slow as she strived for perfection, but Feyre still found herself getting lost in the painting, in the vision of these women she wished she’d had the chance to meet.

The hardest part of the whole thing was keeping it from Rhys of course. Normally, he was such a big part of her art, always encouraging her, always ready to listen to her ramble on about it. But this time she would keep it secret.

“So what are you working on, my beautiful, wonderfully talented mate?” Rhys asked her, two weeks into her project. He rested warm hands on her waist, pressing his face into the bare skin of her neck. Thank the Cauldron Feyre had quick reflexes; she just barely managed to cover the painting in the darkness she’d received from him, blocking it completely from his view. An ironic twist of fate, that.

“You know flattery isn’t going to get you anywhere this time,” Feyre replied dryly. “You’ll find out soon enough. Patience.” 

Rhys nipped at her neck, sending very specific images through their bond. “Or perhaps I can convince you into giving up your little secret?”

“Scoundrel,” Feyre scoffed, even as she leaned back into his solid warmth.

His voice was a pleased rumble. “Always.” 

Needless to say she hadn’t got much more work done that day. But she also managed to keep the project from him a little longer, so she considered it a win regardless. (Though Rhys also won that round in a way, considering how much he enjoyed his convincing.)

And now… Now it was finally finished. And she could finally show him what had so occupied her time this past month. Feyre thought she should be happier about it, but she was only nervous, the feeling curdling in her stomach. For all that Rhys loved her paintings, she’d never done something like this for him before. What if the painting only made the grief worse for him? What if it became nothing more than another painful reminder?

It was too late to change course now, however. Not with Rhys already waiting by her side, staring at the cloth covered canvas in front of them. Feyre briefly considered leaving it covered up, but then Rhys put an encouraging hand on her elbow, his eyes gleaming at her knowingly. And so Feyre used her newfound courage to quickly pull the cloth away, before the temptation to run could not longer be pushed aside.

The revealed painting was met with nothing but all encompassing silence. The mating bond, normally so open between them, remained suspiciously cut off.

Feyre wondered what Rhys was thinking as he stared so intently at her latest creation. She knew what he was seeing – or hoped he was seeing. The painting depicted two utterly stunning women, standing hand-in-hand. The older and more striking of the two had her gorgeous, membranous wings spread out wide, a wild grin pulling at her lips, midnight hair spilling around her shoulders in glorious waves. Hazel eyes sparkled with mirth and love as she peered out of the painting, as if she was greeting a loved one finally coming home. By her side, her daughter looked gentler in comparison, standing perhaps half a head shorter than her mother despite being fully grown. Her own midnight hair had been meticulously braided – no doubt by her older brother – violet and pink and white flowers carefully woven in. She was meticulously dressed, but there was an undeniable hint of mischievousness in her purple-hued eyes. The hand that wasn’t intertwined with her mother’s was held out in front of her, reaching out – an invitation for the viewer to join them. The painting seemed to be backlit as well, as if the two women had just walked inside from a sunny day, giving the whole thing a bright and yet ethereal feel. Or so Feyre hoped.

Eventually, she dared to glance up at Rhys, finding an expression of pained wonder on his face. He looked infinitely sad… and yet there was a quality of peace about him as well, as if it healed something in him, to have this reminder of what he’d lost so long ago. Feyre felt her heart crack at the sight and couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to him, tangling their hands together until they almost mirrored the painting in front of them.

“I know you’re afraid you’ll forget about them one day, forget what they look like,” Feyre finally said, breaking the heavy silence. Her stomach still curdled with her nerves and she fiddled with the cloth of her dress as she looked at her mate. “I thought perhaps this might help.” 

Rhys said nothing for a long moment, though his fingers tightened around hers. He lifted his free hand to the painting, first tracing the strong curve of his mother’s wings and then trailing his thumb down the length of his sister’s braid.

“They were so beautiful,” he whispered, the bond once again opening between them until he was showering her with image after image of the family he lost.

Feyre leaned into his side. “They were. They didn’t deserve their ending”

“No, they didn’t.” The grief that came with those simple words was immense and ancient.

Feyre ached for Rhys, ached for his pain. She regretted the painting for a brief moment (had she only caused him more pain?), but Rhys could not tear his eyes from it. He stared at it almost hungrily, memorizing each stroke, each color, each detail until Feyre was sure he could recreate the picture perfectly in his mind. The peace that she had sensed before seemed to settle once more, blanketing over his pain, giving him the kind of comfort he’d craved for centuries. And Feyre knew, without a doubt, that she’d done the right thing.

I didn’t want your last image of them to be of their broken bodies, she whispered in his mind as he continued to stare at her work.

Rhys swallowed roughly, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. He lifted his head up to the sky first, overcome with emotion, before he finally turned his gaze to Feyre, the depth of it pinning her in place.

“You are a wonder, Feyre darling,” he told her, quietly serious. 

“I knew that already,” she said with a teasing little smile, before allowing it to fade into something gentler. She touched the edge of his jaw. “But so are you, Rhys. And they would think so too. They would proud of what you accomplished here, but most of all of you are. Of that I have no doubt.” 

Rhys turned fully to her then, leaning his forehead against hers, his eyes still shining with emotion even as he looked at their linked hands. “Thank you,” he said. 

“You’re welcome,” Feyre replied, really meaning it. 

Rhys smiled at her, a small smile that reminded her not of his mother but rather of the little sister that had loved him so. Feyre smiled back at him with all the love in her, before rising to the tips of her toes and softly kissing the edge of his mouth. Her mate buried his head in her shoulder and crushed her to him, his arms steel bands around her waist. But Feyre hardly noticed as she ran soothing fingers through his hair, holding him just as tight. 

“I think we should find them a place of honor, don’t you?” Rhys said as he finally pulled away from her embrace, minutes or hours later.

“I know just the place.”

They hung the painting in the sitting room, where it could be bathed in the light of the garden beyond. It was lovely, peaceful spot that so many of their friends – their new family – passed by on their visits to the town house.

And underneath it, they later added a tiny silver placard, with only two words engraved in Rhys’ elegant script. 

Never forgotten.