these were going to be small and less of them

The White Dress.

This story is about my friends MIL, and her wedding. Strap in guys, this is a wild ride in which I did THE THING that got me banned from any of her family functions. (Plus a few threats of dismemberment and bodily harm)

A good friend of mine from university was getting married! They had been a couple since Junior year of college, through her 2 years in the peace corps and currently her return to this continent. 6 years in total. She had been to all manner of family functions and always came back with a strange story about how she thinks her MIL secretly hates her. But she being a very quiet and sweet person pushed those thoughts aside.

Point 1: She is vegetarian and jewish, husband is not. She was invited and went to Christmas dinner and figured she would just eat sides, as well she brought a vegetarian casserole. MIL, after knowing her for THREE years, and being told by husband a few weeks before about not to forget friend doesn’t eat meat…proceeded to put meat in every dish. Friend drank water and ate her casserole the whole night while MIL cried to everyone that friend was so rude for not eating her cooking.

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The Better Rogers

Summary: In which a football game with all of the Avengers helps you determine who’s the better Rogers.

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Word Count: 2,212

A/N: This one is especially written for the forever beautiful @beccaanne814-blog ! Becca, my love, I hope you are having an amazing day because that’s exactly what you deserve. I’m so grateful to have you in my life and I hope you enjoy this! 

Originally posted by boston-boy-evans

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?“ You counter, lips tilting up into a smirk.

“Okay.” Steve shrugs, adjusting the sleeves of the red shirt that was made especially for this occasion. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Y/N!” Tony yells from across the field. He has his arms crossed over his chest and his frown is visible even from this distance. “Stop fraternizing with the enemy!”

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Reggie Mantle x Reader Locker-room Confessions


Request:
Could you maybe do a Reggie x reader where the reader is Jughead’s sister and she’s getting bullied by Chuck and Moose and he catches her crying in the locker room looking for Archie and comforts her and tells her nice stuff and compliments her and just fluff and cuteness.

A/N: This was my first request so I enjoyed it plenty, I hope you love it or least like it! It takes a while to get to the Reggie x Reader only because I wanted it to have a good storyline. 

Words: 1511

Pairing: Reggie x Reader

Summary: Reader is Jughead’s sister and gets bullied and Reggie comes to the rescue. 

Spoilers: There may or may not be a kiss.

Warnings: Like three swear words.


Being Jughead’s sister was not easy at Riverdale High. Everyone questioned you for the small similarities and differences that you had with each other. You hung out mostly with Jughead’s friends since you grew up with them as well.  You were only a year apart in age, but not by grade level. Some even questioned you both if you were twins and Jug became tired of it, so he would claim you were fraternal twins. The high school caste system was not really in favor of you and your brother. You’re brother Jughead had it worse with The Goonies as he called them. He was “freak” to them because he was different than the testosterone filled, brainless guys at your school. Jug was the brooding writer, keeping to himself. You however would dress like him plenty of times, but you liked to try different styles and colors. You were usually the one they’d catch smiling more often. You just tried your best enjoy the hell hole that high school was especially in a small town.

During the weekend you had a sleepover with Veronica and Betty at Veronica’s house. You were mesmerized by the aesthetic of Veronica’s. There was something about big homes that you thoroughly enjoyed, since your family had a small house. You didn’t complain though, you were just happy your family was back together and your dad was getting his act together.

You were thankful for these friends that made Riverdale suck a little less. You had fun with them, as they helped you escape from life for a while when you hung out with them. Veronica was new, but it felt like you had known her all your life. It was now Sunday morning and you all had just eaten breakfast.

“Here you go” Veronica spoke up while you were hanging out in her room.

“What’s this?” You questioned her as you opened the gift bag and took a box out with the most mesmerizing sneaker wedges you had wanted when you guys went window shopping a week before.

Your eyes dilated, and a small smile was forming on your face until you looked up and spoke up “I- I- I can’t take these Ron.”

“Now why not? Those would look great on you with that crop top you bought, but never wore” Veronica declared.

“You would look amazing, (Y/N)” Betty budded in with a smile on her face.

“I just, you guys can’t keep buying me stuff, my parents, and I am not going to be your charity case” you declared with a sad look in your face.

“Oh c’mon you are not my charity case (Y/N/N), I simply bought the wrong size shoe and can’t return them” She retorted.

“Yeah, I was there they would not let her return them” Betty innocently added on the lie.

“You can’t return them?” You questioned Ron with hopeful eyes.

“Nope and now that I look at them they’re not really my style and I don’t want to see them go to waste” Veronica added on with a smirk on her face.

You thanked her, and promised to wear them on Monday, with some ripped skinny jeans and the crop top as you left her house to work your shift at Pops.

Monday came and you hesitated on the outfit, but you put it on anyway since you weren’t going to let down Ronnie, and weren’t going to let your money go to waste by never wearing the crop top.

You took a quick glance in the mirror and smiled confidently and walked out of your home to get to school.

As you arrived, you felt all eyes on you and it made you slightly uncomfortable until you caught a glimpse of Ronnie and Betty and walked towards them.
“Hey” you said shyly to the blonde and brunette.

They turned to look at you and you heard gasps coming out of their mouth with a wide eyes plastered on their faces.

“My god! (Y/N) you are gorgeous” Betty declared.

“The phoenix rises! (Y/N) you look hot!” Ronnie added on and you couldn’t help but cover your face and giggle as Kevin approached you three by the lockers.

He did a double take not believing it was you until he added to the compliments “Smokin’ (Y/N), if I weren’t gay you’d be on my list” as you all laughed at his words.

You all departed to your classes and plenty of people complimented you on your outfit.

It was the end of the day and you were at your locker, when The Goonies approached you in the empty hallway.

You just gave a huff closing your locker thinking you just might get catcalled, surprised though that Reggie was not with them. You remembered you actually hadn’t seen Reggie with them for a couple of days now.

The Goonies were surrounding you, you couldn’t escape them, and they trapped you against your locker.

Moose spoke up “Look at the ugly duckling thinking she is turning into a goose.”

“Yeah Goose” The other jocks repeated.

“Don’t you mean swan?” You retorted sarcastically.

“Whatever, besides you’d never be a swan” Moose scowled at you “I just wanted you to know that not even like that, no one will even look your way”

“I don’t know” Chuck added on “You’d be a good, onetime thing, don’t you think she’d like maple syrup?”  He spoke to the guys and he creepily caressed your cheek as you swapped his hand off your cheek.

“What do you think freak? Would you like a bit of Chuck in your life” he whispered in your ear.

“You’d really consider this piece of trash?” Moose spoke up

“The thing about trash is, you use it, and then when you’re done with it you throw it away” Chuck gave you a smirk as he turned to collect high fives from the guys and you took it as a chance to flee and go looking for Archie in the locker room to ask him to take you home, or ask him where Jughead was.

As you fled from The Goonies, you heard the collective laughter from the venom filled mouths as you tried to hold in your tears.

You arrived at the locker room and much to your dismay it was empty. You started hearing the rain from the outside and realized they probably cancelled practice.

You sat down in one of the benches and started sobbing, until you felt someone sit next you so you stopped and turned your attention to see who it was. 

“I am so sorry about those jerks” Reggie spoke up as he rubbed his thumbs up to cheeks to rid of the tears “They never did learn how to treat a lady” Reggie added.

“What are you doing?” You questioned him, confused as to why he was being so nice to you when he was the one that bullied your brother.

“I- I am” He stuttered as he grabbed you by the hand, not knowing what to say.

“Wow a speechless Reggie that’s new” you chuckled.

“I’m just really sorry about those assholes, I’ll take care of them though” He smiled at you.

“How?” You asked him.

“Well I am captain of the football team (Y/N)” He stated.

“Why would you help me though? They bullied me, and you bully my brother with them” You spoke up “What’s the difference?” you added on.

“(Y/N) I am really sorry about that, I regret ever being rude to Jughead, I really am” He said with disappointed look on his face.

“Why were you rude to Jug? Does this mean you are going to leave him alone? I noticed you haven’t been hanging out with the guys for a while now” You rambled on, not knowing how to react this soft side of Reggie.

“Um” he mumbled while scratching his head “I kind of have a crush on you” He spoke softly with a small smile on his face.

“What?” You gulped as he caught you by surprise.

“I promise to apologize to Jughead,  I know I was stupid for going down that route” He paused and spoke again “I’ll apologize, I swear, wo- woul- would you go out on a date with me? Please?” He proclaimed with a sparkle in his eyes.

“Only if you apologize to Jug” You smiled at him, surprised to seeing this vulnerable side to Reggie made him so much more handsome.

“Deal, Thank you, I will, I’ll also take care of the idiots who bullied you” Reggie proclaimed as he pulled you in for a hug.

As you two pulled away you started missing his tight hug until Reggie grabbed you by the chin and planted his lips on yours.

Your stomach was filled with butterflies and your lips were in sync with his.

“(Y/N) where are you? Moms going crazy, it is raining and you’re not answering your- uh- phone” Jughead interrupted your kiss with wide eyes and wide mouth plastered on his face and you couldn’t help but smile.

Tags: @sgarrett49 @oharchiekinz 

Request: Loved

Request: May I request Mary (season 12 reference) coming to the bunker with dean and meeting the reader (she is a relationship with dean and told his mother about her)? :)

Word count: 1,130

<3

“Dean?” Your voice is barely a breath as you answer the phone, escaping as a transparent cloud on the cool spring air. It can’t be him – Amara and the bomb and Chuck and Rowena and… all of the jumbled, clouded images flit through your head at once and then disappear completely as he speaks again.

“Yeah, it’s me. Y/N, where the hell are you? Were you with Sam?” He cuts to the chase, and you quickly pick up on the panic in his voice – you’d know it anywhere on Earth.

“No.” There’s more shame in the word than you’d like him to hear – it wasn’t that you’d abandoned them. It wasn’t at all. It was more that the goodbye with Dean had been too much for you to bear, and you needed a few hours to be alone with your thoughts. The world may have been saved, but yours had been irreparably shattered, “And I’m about a mile away from the bunker. Probably less.”

“Good. Sam’s gone, there’s blood, and- and-“ His voice sputters and dies, “I can explain when you get here. Can you just…?”

You don’t have to pause, “Give me a minute. Maybe five.” You tell him, and then he’s ended the call – and that’s how you know it’s him, not some sick perversion like it was last time or a cheap imitation: there’s no goodbye, no ‘see you soon’. That’s it, it’s a given that you’ll be there.

***

“Dean?” The door creaks and clanks as you haul it open, gun in one hand. You creep down the stairs, not quite knowing what threat to expect, if any. However, by the time he’s taken three steps out of the war room, you’re on him, throwing your arms around his neck as the gun clatters to the floor and his arms wrap you up, strong and safe, lifting your feet clean off the ground. Dean buries his face into your shoulder, vaguely reminiscent of the hug you’d last shared – except this one is joy and relief, where the other had been sorrow and fear.

“God, Y/N.” His breath is warm and face scratchy and he’s alive. The last thing in the universe that you want to do is pull away, but when you finally open your eyes and look over his shoulder, you’re startled into pulling back.

A blonde woman stands behind him, watching you both with a mixture of intense confusion and affectionate amusement. You look from her, to Dean, and then back to her – for one, she’s wearing your shirt, and for another, she looks familiar in a way you can’t place.

“Y/N,” His arm remains tight around your waist, although he does let you back down onto the floor, “Meet my mom, Mary. Mom, this is Y/N.”

She quirks an eyebrow, and for a split second you realise that the mannerism belongs to Dean – many of her features do, in fact. It’s only then do you recognise her as the woman from the photographs Dean never has out of arm’s reach.

“This is Y/N?” She asks, and Dean nods in confirmation, smiling proudly – like this is a moment he’d always wished for; to introduce his girlfriend to his mother. Mary takes a slow step forward, looking you up and down – not scrutinising, but examining. Wanting to familiarise herself with you.

“You mentioned me?” You glance up at Dean, but his mother cuts in before he can even think of an answer.

“Oh, you’re all he mentioned. I was starting to think I’d had another child I didn’t remember until he specified that you were his girlfriend,” She smiles, and you can’t help but laugh a little at that, “Oh, Y/N, you’ll love Y/N. She’s so beautiful and smart and funny and…”

“Mom!” Dean interrupts indignantly, his face flushed red. Both you and Mary manage a laugh at that, despite the situation at hand – but the confusion and anxiety soon cloud her features again, and you look between the two of them for a few moments.

“Dean, babe, have you tried calling Cas? He came back here with Sam, and if that’s an angel-banishing sigil I see over there, he definitely was here.” You offer, lifting up to kiss his cheek before withdrawing, “Mary, I feel like you could use a cup of tea… milk and extra honey?”

For just a moment, she hesitates, looking between the two of you – and then she nods, relief flooding her features – an excuse to avoid the stressful situation for a little while, and to get her out of Dean’s high expectations so she can take a few breaths. You couldn’t be happier for him, but you know as well as anyone that he can be a bit of an overexcited puppy every now and again.

***

“So… you’ve done this before?” She asks, heaping more honey into the tea. You nod, giving a small smile and sipping your drink slowly.

“Once or twice. Sam and Dean have too, but we all lost count a few times ago.” At the look of horror on her face, you reach over and rest your hand over hers – the idea of her sons dying and coming back must be awful to her. Especially when her own experience of it seems to be going less than smoothly for her, “They always seem to come back. Dean always used to say it’s because angels were watching over them.”

Mary’s eyes widen slightly at her own words being echoed back from the mouth of an outsider, but she doesn’t seem to have the words of her own.

“There isn’t a day goes by when he doesn’t think about you.” You tell her softly, giving a small smile, “Don’t take that as pressure. But take it to know that you’re loved here, and always have been. I get it, fitting back in can be awkward. But I’m here, and so are Sam and Dean. And if you need to be stupid and quiet and go and get our nails done or do something menial, I’m always up for a girls’ day out.”

Again, she only seems to stare at you, and you fear that you’ve overstepped the mark – after all, you’re practically a stranger to her. But, instead, after a few moments, a wide, warm smile spreads over her face and her eyes wrinkle in exactly the same way that Dean’s do.

“I get it.” She says softly, her eyes twinkling, “I understand completely… what he sees in you. Why he loves you so much. Why you love him.”

All of those thoughts you’d had, growing up, about meeting your boyfriend’s parents and trying to impress them… this couldn’t be further from that if it tried. But you wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.

Queen in the North {Pt. 4}

Originally posted by snows-os

Requested: By some very lovely people, and myself, an actual piece of human garbage

Pairings: Robb Stark x Reader

Previously: {Part 1} {Part 2} {Part 3}

Summary: Y/N was sent to live with The Stark family at a young age, and ever since then, she seemed to fit perfectly, maybe even more than she had ever noticed.

Warnings: Injured!Robb

Word Count: 1,858

A/N: Long time, no see. I don’t know how I let this sit on the backburner for so long, as it is certainly one of my favorite things to write. Now that Robb is absent from my Game of Thrones viewing, I have been coping with this, so I hope that you guys enjoy! Feedback is appreciated, as always!

Somehow, Robb had managed to disappear. You’d made plans yesterday to meet in the library before going out for a ride. Although you didn’t accompany them on hunts anymore, you did love racing through the woods with Robb and Grey Wind. Ever since Ned had brought the direwolves back for the children, you had wanted one of your own.

He had brought them back when they were less like wolves and behaved more like puppies, really. You had smiled and laughed along with your family, happy that such a small creature had brought them such joy. But, try as you might, you couldn’t hide your want from Robb.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” he asked, tugging lightly on a bit of rope that you had procured for Grey Wind to play with.

“I was just thinking that I would very much like a dog.” You sighed, stroking your hand over Grey Wind’s fur.

“How many times are we going to have this argument?”

“I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.” You laughed, burying your face into Grey Wind’s side.

You knew exactly what he was talking about. 

When you were younger, you had come to Winterfell convinced that their house sigil was a dog. Robb had taken immediate offense, but to his credit, he bit his tongue for as long as possible. He hid his anger for a long time, but after a few days, he felt that he was going to combust if he didn’t correct you. He danced around the subject for days, before gently sitting you down in the library with the big book of house sigils.

At the tender age of four, you had mistakenly read “Wolf” as “Oelf” and Robb had never let you live it down. He brought it up often enough that you knew that one little mistake as a child was not going away anytime soon.

“Oh, Arya!” you called, spotting her hurriedly making her way around the corner. When she didn’t stop, you quickened your pace, easily catching up with her. “Arya, have you seen Robb?”

Arya took your hand, and resumed her earlier pace, explaining between her shallow breaths. “I have been looking for you all morning!” She paused for a moment, meeting your eyes before casting her glance once again to her shoes, tapping quickly on the stone. “Robb is in the infirmary.”

“I was just in the library, wait- what do you mean that Robb is in the infirmary?” You felt your heart beat quickening in your chest. It was your job to get hurt, and it was his job to baby you until you got better, and then do it all over again.

“I mean that Robb was trying to help Bran with his bow work and something went wrong.” Arya took your hand and tried to lead you to the infirmary again, but you were rooted on the spot. Your mind was a blur, you could barely think straight. “Robb is hurt. Robb is hurt. Robb is hurt” ran through your mind, a rather uncomforting mantra that was only making matters worse. 

“Y/N, he’s asking for you,” Arya’s voice was calm, somehow drawing you back to the situation at hand. Robb was hurt, and he was asking for you. Arya took a tentative step toward the infirmary, wanting to make sure that you were with her. You met her eyes, nodded your head, and tried to get yourself together before you got to the Robb.

Arya threw open the door to the infirmary, and you felt yourself holding back a gasp. Arya had insisted that he was barely even hurt, that it practically a scrape, but Robb looked as if he was close to death.

“This is why it does you good to get hurt every once and awhile.” You took a seat on the bed by his side, twining your pinky with his. It was a simple act, something that the two of you had done since you were children, who didn’t want to be made fun of for holding hands. Now, it was something that felt like second nature, even if people smirked when they saw it. He gave you a look, one that you knew meant explain yourself before I wallop you over the head. “Well, Mr. Perfect never gets hurt and now a knick in the side makes you think that you are dying.”

You held your breath, waiting for a response. Jokes in times of crisis could go either way. Robb’s laughter filled the room, and you felt a weight lift off of your shoulders. It definitely wasn’t as serious as you thought that it was if he was willing to laugh at it.

You caught a glimpse of Abigayle over Robb’s head, rolling a bandage and chuckling to herself. At least she was taking your humor in stride. More than a few people had reprimanded you for your particularly unladylike jokes in times of trouble. But they always made your family laugh, and making them laugh was more important to you than being ladylike anyday.

“But you are okay?” You asked in a hushed voice. As much as it hurt you to admit it, he had scared you.

Robb tried to hold back a reaction, but despite himself his mouth quirked to the side in the annoying almost smile that he had developed when the two of you were younger. But you had been though enough with him to notice when he was holding something back.

You hadn’t missed the look that the nurse maid had given the two of you before pointedly laying down her linens and slipping out of the door, taking Arya with her. Robb tried to sit up, holding back a grimace that if you didn’t know him any better, you wouldn’t have been able to notice.

You reached forward to grab him, to help him sit up. But, before you could, his hands came to cradle your face, bringing your forehead to rest against his. If it was any other time, you would have told him to shove off, but after all of the excitement of the last few days, you needed a moment.

A moment to be alone with him, to just breathe, and accept that everything was going to be okay.

“I’m sorry that I worried you.” Robb said, his voice quiet and timid, afraid to break the silence that had taken over the room.

“You should be, it’s my job to worry you.” You said, attempting to muster a laugh. It didn’t sound like a joke, though. Your voice was shaking just the slightest bit, trying to hide the emotion behind it.

“How could I forget? It is your job to fall off of a horse and then immediately walk directly into a wall. The same wall that has been in the same spot for hundreds of years, might I add.” He laughed, a real laugh this time. A laugh that made him throw his head back and made his stomach hurt just a bit, because he really, truly meant it. And after a few moments, you couldn’t help but join him.

“Well, I don’t want to interupt, but I’ve heard that Bran has maimed my eldest.” Catelyn said, letting herself in. You were about to stand, in order to let her have your place at Robb’s side, but she lazily motioned for you to sit down, taking a spot by the fire instead.

“It was really nothing, mother.” Robb said, looping his pinky with yours again. “Bran’s bow work obviously needs a bit more work, but I am going to be good as new.”

You held in a chuckle. Bran needing more bow work was the biggest understatement that you had heard in your life. He would get there eventually, but you knew that this wouldn’t be the last time that someone ended up in the infirmary before he learned to shoot a target. Maybe Arya could help him. She was wonderful with a bow, and even though she was less patient than the boys. Then again, that might be what Bran needed if he was ever going to hit a target. You made a mental note before returning your focus to the situation at hand.

“I’m sure that you will be, after all, it seems that you have an excellent nursemaid with you.” You didn’t miss her glancing down at your hands resting on the bed. You stuck your tongue out at her.

She didn’t reprimand you, knowing that it would only encourage you further.

“Abigayle is wonderful.” you said, eyes shifting to the door that the gray-haired woman had left through a few minutes ago.

Catelyn’s eyebrows arched the slightest bit, and Robb was chuckling to himself.

“I have a feeling that my mother wasn’t talking about Abigayle.” His pinky tightened around yours, not too tightly, but enough to make you understand what he was trying to say.

They were talking about you.

“Well, I haven’t done anything.” You insisted, unsure what they were trying to say.

“We both know that Arya is going to have to drag you out of this room before you leave his side.” Catelyn laughed, standing up from her chair. “Which is why I know that I can take my leave to help Sansa and the girls with their needlepoint.” Catelyn placed a kiss on the top of Robb’s head, and then yours. “I will see you later, my loves. She said, pausing for just a moment in the doorway, before making her way out of the room.

“I don’t see what the fuss is about.” You said, untangling your pinky from his before moving to get a strip of cloth to change Robb’s bandages. Abigayle had given him fresh ones a few hours ago, but with all of the moving around he was sure to need new ones. “I help everyone when they are hurt.”

The look on Robb’s face said that he wanted to say more, and you felt a wave of relief when it seemed that he was going to hold his tongue, for now at least.

You motioned for him to take off his shirt, allowing you a better look at the wound on his side. It was a shallow wound, but it ran the length of his ribcage, jagged and rough against his pale skin. Thankfully, it looked as if it would heal in a few days. Unfortunately, you were left to coddle Robb like a child until he was good as new.

He had a tendency to be clingy when he was hurt. You didn’t honestly know if it was because it truly made him feel better, or if he liked having an excuse to be around you, even more often than usual. Your head said that it was the first option, but it was getting harder as of late to ignore what your heart was saying.

Refocusing on the task at hand, you found that you had been right, and the bandages were nearly soaked through. You made quick work of them, not allowing your fingers to linger any more than was absolutely necessary.

You can read Part Five here!

Tell Me I’m Pretty | One

Originally posted by thedis4design

Prompt: Artist!Reader x Jughead.

Warnings: Angst, bullying, possible mentions of suicide later on. There could be violence and mentions of death, so please, be careful when proceeding to the other parts!

A/N: Hope you like thissss!!!

Song Of The Chapter: Trouble by Cage the Elephant




We were at the table by the window, the view,
Casting shadows, the sun was pushing through.

Y/C/H hair pushed to the side, while droopy eyes scanned a sketchbook filled with unfinished works. A golden sun dipping into the horizon provided slivers of lighting through the blinds of the window you sat by. A melted milkshake sat next to the open book, the beverage barely sipped out of as the cherry had sunken to the bottom of the glass at this point. Your mind was wrecked with ideas, so much so that your hand couldn’t even move because you didn’t know what would come out on that paper. Lyrics to a song that nobody wrote? A sketch of the boy you had been admiring from afar as you sat in the comfort of your booth? The essay that your English teacher had assigned during school hours?

You decided to sit back, leaning your head against the booth while a delicate sigh escaped your lips. The atmosphere at this little diner was relaxed and quiet, so your lonely presence wouldn’t be too out of place. Usually, on Friday nights, the people in this small town would much rather gather at the club or go to a high school football game than visit the diner on the corner of a less travelled street downtown. You were thrilled to spend no  time around peers that knew of  you at school. You had already paid for whatever you ordered, so nobody was waiting for you to leave the booth and make the diner slightly more empty.

Nobody cared to invite you to these social outings, mainly because whenever you were new to the school and people wanted to be your friend, you shut them down. You weren’t too fond of kindling friendships with people who’d be out of your life by the time they broke eighteen. You’d much rather write poetry and sketch the pretty people who made this town just a bit more interesting. Those who flourished in the attention of their close friends and buzzed about on social media. Their existence brought you something new to study, the student body’s lack of morality, and the constant movement, drama, and rivalry between inner circles.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a figure sliding into the seat across from you, your eyes landing on the boy you had been looking at nearly this entire time. Jughead Jones III, a fellow student in your fifth period English class. He sat three seats to your left, and he always managed to catch your eye through quick side glances. His presence, though, caught you off guard. Not once had he spoken a word to you, but he was always enthusiastic when it came to English.  A strand of his raven black hair fell over his forehead as he rested both forearms on the table, lacing his fingers together while they interlocked; he looked as if he was about to interrogate you, of course. With Jason Blossom’s murder still being a mystery, everyone had to be questioned in this little town. You hadn’t even thought to speak a word, you were practically stunned by his sudden decision to appear before you.

He had a great group of friends, ones much more popular and had a respectable reputation that was spoken about around the halls. His best friend’s name was Archie Andrews, a talented musician and athlete, who seemingly had better luck with girls and friends, because there was always people surrounding him. Jughead’s friends were practically the core of popularity, a mixture of underclassmen who thrived from the admiration of their fellow classmates. You didn’t despise the group. These were the things that you had paid close attention to, for your life would never be as interesting as theirs, so you vicariously live through what could have been for you, and sketch these scenes out in multiple hardcover books stacked on your desk at home.

His lips curled into a half-smile, “Y/N L/N, right?” Jug reached over to grab a french fry from your untouched basket that you ordered nearly half an hour ago. You raise an eyebrow, his behavior causing you to think he sat across from you as a result of a stupid dare. If you weren’t so terrified of confrontation, you would have swatted his hand away.  This was the first time you’d ever been approached by a fellow student and peer in what felt like forever, and your nerves were already being poked at.

“Yeah… Jughead Jones?” You watched as his ocean eyes crinkled when he grinned. He was quite gorgeous, but the way he spoke so carelessly and cockily… You surely questioned his intentions.

“Correct. Now, what’s a girl like you doing here on a Friday night?”

Yeah, this was either a joke to him, or a sick dare. You roll your eyes, closing your sketchbook, “I came here to grab some dinner, which you so rudely interrupted.” With a soft, amused sigh, Jug chuckles.

“I guess, if dinner means old french fries and a completely full milkshake with the whipped cream nearly melting off the sides. All of the food idle and untouched. Don’t deny that you were burying your nose in a book. Oh, and don’t think I didn’t see you staring at me as well.”

You cleared your throat, a rosy tinge burning the apples of your cheeks, “How could you tell? When your friends were here, you didn’t even look my way.” You were right, and as you tilted your head to see that Archie, Betty, and Veronica had left, he rolls his eyes, scoffing at you. Maybe they went to see the second half of the high school football game, maybe they all had to go home, these were the thoughts that plagued your mind instead of what was occurring in real time.

“Because I was staring at you too. You didn’t catch me when you were gazing into that book.”

Spoke a lot of words, I don’t know if I spoke the truth.

“Well I-”

Jug shushed you, leaving you utterly confused as to what could have been the catalyst to spark this interaction from him. “I heard you’re an artist.” His voice was dripping with mere antagonism, but from the other side of the booth, you shrugged it off and nodded, answering him with a quick, “I am.” Your words were small, almost nervous.

“Mind showing me what you’ve been working on?” The false curiosity seething from his pink lips formed a lump in the your throat. You then shook your head, your hand itching to reach for the book that sat in front of you. “If it has something to do with Jason Blossom, I’m not part of it.” You said shakily. Jughead didn’t take no for an answer, and his hand snatched the book away. He was too quick, and you ended up slapping the table with your hand in an attempt to rescue it from his grip.

Without opening the black book, he held it with a tight lipped grin and narrowed eyes. “Why can’t I see? Is the quiet girl scared or something?”

Got so much to lose,

An exasperated huff  came before a weak, “Maybe. Hand it over.” And that only fueled Jug’s curiosity to delve further, he wanted to push this girl, get her to talk. Lord only knows why he was causing you this anxiety, maybe it was a silly crush, an immature dare, or just him going out of his way to investigate you for a murder. It was beyond you, and your blood began to boil.

Got so much to prove,

And with that, he opened it up, “Fat chance,  Y/N.” His fingers turning the pages to the very first, and you winced, your cheeks no longer holding a rosy blush, but a red hue in embarrassment and sheer anger.You were the topic of conversation at the table with the core four. They always saw you sitting, staring, sketching. That’s all you ever did, so Jug took it upon himself to delve into the rumors that were whispered from one group to another. Harsh, sure. But it’s high school, behavior like this was expected and tolerated by anyone and everyone. His investigative spirit just added to the mess.

God, don’t let me lose my mind.

“Called it.” His eyes never left the pages. The book was dedicated to the groups at Riverdale High, Archie laughing with his friends, Betty and Veronica in their River Vixen uniforms, and Jughead with his crowned beanie. Admittedly, you had talent, a gift for capturing these moments, but his eyes soon widened when he noticed you incorporated yourself into the social scenes. Some small panels where you sat next to Jug on a bench, sketchbook in your lap, his laptop open on his. Some were of you in a pretty prom dress, in a River Vixen uniform, or just sitting with his group of friends.

“Classic stalker. Is this why nobody ever sees you looking up from these damn things?-” A sudden pang of guilt knocked him right in the stomach once he picked up his head to see your doe-eyes glazed over. His smile faded into a look of concern. Clearly he wasn’t thinking, and boy, did he regret it after witnessing the hurt look on your face.

“Please,” You motioned towards him with a shaky hand, asking for the book. Jughead didn’t have the guts to argue, so he handed it over to you, watching as you held it to your chest as if you were protecting a newborn. With a quick motion, you slung your backpack over your shoulder and kept your head down as you rushed out of the diner. This left Jughead with a sinking feeling in his stomach and the realization that he shouldn’t have sparked trouble with you.

And the whole weekend, he was riddled with the idea that he needed to talk to you again to mediate the tension and apologize. Even if you despised him, it was something that he had to do.

alaeevolare  asked:

Hello! I was wondering, what are the differences between modern HEMA and how it was used in actual combat? Mainly in how it is/was taught, the way that techniques are/were used, small battles/skirmishes and fully fledged battles. I'm currently drawing from my own experiences with HEMA (longsword) and I know it's different but I'm not sure what all of those differences are, much less how to write them. Thank you!

Honestly, the best advice I have for that is slogging through the treatises from the masters on Wikitenaur or other sites/books that let you get it direct from the horse’s mouth (as it were). If you’re not a trained scholar or used to going through language from a century ago, much less several, I can see how parsing that might be a little difficult.

The second thing to do is study the historical period in which you want to write your fiction or, if writing fantasy, whatever is adjacent. When you want to write any kind of combat scenario, studying the culture is necessary. Whether that’s one you created yourself or history itself.

You’ve got better access to the HEMA community than Starke or I do and that springboard will make it easier to find what you’re looking for. It’s important to remember that what you’re practicing right now is what we conventionally term a “dead martial art”. Like aikido and several other martial arts now enjoying a popular resurgence, the current version did not really exist in the last century. Combat in Europe moved very quickly, rapid advancement lead to many old weapons being discarded that were no longer usable. German fencing was the only form of longsword fencing to survive, and it too is weighed down by rules unnecessary to the time when the longsword was a battlefield choice. Luckily for you, because HEMA itself is so new in its reconstruction, you’re actually far closer to the source material used to revive it than you might suspect.

If you haven’t broached this subject with your instructor, you should. They might know, or know somebody who knows something that can point you in a better direction. They work with the people who work with the people who are theorizing on the past and how to bring this piece of history back to life.

The other thing you need to do is study history. One of the things we do have a lot of surviving records of are historical battles. Lots, and lots, and lots of records.

Pick your medieval historical figure. Pick a period in history. And get to work.

Also, read Sun Tzu. If there is one great historical text for understanding warfare, it’s Sun Tzu’s The Art of War.

Battles are really broken down by three groups:

Culture.

Technology.

Terrain.

I’d throw in strategy and tactics but those are under the culture header. To write battles, you need both an understanding of historical warfare and the ability to contextualize those decisions so you can have your characters make new ones. This means figuring out not just the thought processes of the people of history (theorized by gaining a better grasp of their circumstances), but also how your own characters think in relation to the world’s they live in.

Unless you’re writing historical fiction, you can’t just copy the battles from history wholesale. You have to learn how the decisions were made. This is why I recommend looking at the above groups.

Culture

Who they are as a people, their history, who they are descended from, how they see themselves, their commander’s experience with warfare, what kind of armies do they possess (if any at all), how does that work, how do they form supply lines, how do they pay for it, all that annoying bureaucratic minutia which will kill your brain but must be figured out. War is about troop movements. You’ve got to get them from Point A to Point B somehow, you’ve got ensure their fed, and if they’ve got mounts or armor all that has to come from somewhere. War is an expensive endeavor. Someone is paying for it. Where does the money come from, where does it go, and who is getting paid?

This is why strategy and tactics land under the cultural header, the more you dig into history the more you’ll find different cultures through different eras approached these problems differently. They also had different tools at their disposal which brings us to…

Technology

Technology encompasses your weapons, your armor, and, well, everything else that came to mind. Much as you need to know where your soldiers come from, you also need to know what tools they have at their disposal. If they haven’t mastered metalwork and smithing then they can’t have armor and the type of metal they work with defines what kind of armor they create. If they haven’t developed saddles then they don’t have mounted cavalry, if they haven’t figured out how to use horses to pull things then chances are they don’t have cavalry in the form of chariots either.

The same is true of the bow and every other kind of weapon available. Your tools define crucial parts of your tactics and strategy. They define what is available to use and what is available instructs us on how we fight. As the options narrow and you find your historical period, the tools will be easier to come by. Then, you’ll be able to envisage the battles better.

Warfare is complicated, but at its base is the element of rock, paper, scissors. You develop B, so I come up with X, to counter B, and then you develop Y to counter X. It is all about trying to develop new ways to counter the available options.

You brought foot soldiers to the battle, I guess this is what you’ll choose so I array my soldiers at your front and position cavalry behind to break your lines from the side or rear. You use pikes, position your soldiers in columns in order to break my cavalry’s charge or bring a cavalry of your own (or both). I position archers to bombard your lines with a barrage, and so on.

If you really have trouble with the concept then I recommend trying some good war games like Mount and Blade or the Total War series that help you see the battlefield visually and get some practice in arranging your troops.

However, in order to sell your tactics, you need…

Terrain

What kind of environment are you fighting in? What is your target? What natural impediments are in the way? You can study Hannibal’s battle tactics against the Romans all you like, but if you ignore the fact that most of his elephants died on the march through the mountains then you’ll miss a crucial element to why he lost.

Woodland?

Marshland?

Flatland?

Valley?

Mountains?

Desert?

Jungle?

Summer?

Winter?

Spring?

Fall?

Snowstorm?

Rainstorm?

Heatwave?

The conditions you fight in can make or break. Terrain defines how the troops are arranged. If you’re fighting on foreign soil then it can be the difference as to whether your tools will be of any use to you.

Some of it is flat out just luck.

The best way to learn to write battles is learning to think like a commander, and then follow that up with every other member of the army.

When it comes to historical fiction, I always recommend Sharon Kay Penman’s novels. They’re well regarded and well researched, providing some human context to what will inevitably be the dry reading of historical texts.

-Michi

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Anders is sometimes accused of being a terrorist, which is interesting, since the game provides multiple examples of actual terrorists as a counterpoint. I don’t think the idea is entirely the fault of the audience, as Bioware is clearly aware of the current cultural association between exploding buildings and terrorism, and I know some of the writers made comments in that direction. But if that’s what they were going for, it’s one of those places where authorial intent failed utterly.


They seem to have forgotten that the defining feature of terrorism isn’t violence (although of course by its very nature it is often violent) but fear. It’s right there in the word, but even so.


When Anders blows up the Chantry in Act 3, it is not meant to inspire fear. It’s not a threat: ‘Let us go, or this is what we will do to you’. If it were, it would be a pretty bloody useless one. Though, of course, magic is used to light the fuse the primary weapon is gaatlok – gunpowder. He is incredibly secretive about the formula – even Hawke, helping him, doesn’t know he also needs charcoal – and has no expectation of surviving the act. Repeating it would be a pain in the arse. Anybody who wanted to would have to start from scratch.


Rather, it is a public demonstration of the helplessness of the mages. He commits a very public crime. And it immediately becomes clear that no authority figure is even slightly interested in dealing out justice. Hawke can kill him, if they are so inclined. But if they don’t, no one is going to force them to. You can be a completely pro-Templar Hawke and waltz into the Gallows with Anders in your party to participate in the Rite of Annulment, and the Templars do not call the whole thing to a halt – because, hang on, here is the actual perpetrator.


It is an excuse to do what they were planning to do anyway. They’d find an reason, one way or another, regardless of Anders’s actions. But this one is handy. Meredith claims that her hand is forced because the city would demand vengeance. Would it? Maybe. We never find out. It does, however, tell us how Meredith plans to spin the attack. The mages were always going to be victims of her fear and her power grab. This just makes it visible.


The people who really do deliberately inspire terror in Kirkwall are the Chantry. Meredith has been ruling the city through threats of violence for decades:


Meredith’s message was clear: remember who holds the power in Kirkwall. Remember what happened to Threnhold when he overreached. To drive home her point, she presented Marlowe with a small carven ivory box at his coronation. The box contained the Threnhold signet ring, misshapen, and crusted with blood. On the inside of the lid were written the words ‘His fate need not be yours’.

World of Thedas II


She’s also practising on the mages in the Gallows – three Starkhaven mages are made Tranquil at random, just to demonstrate to the prisoners in the Circle that it is within her power to do this. By Act 3, of course, she’ll have expanded her reach further, using her Templars to harass and assault Kirkwall’s citizens.


But, until Act 3, Meredith is something of a background figure. The ultimate villain lurking behind the scenes. The clearest foil for Anders is Petrice.


Here, then, is our actual terrorist. Petrice’s end goal is violence: she wants the people of Kirkwall to take on the Qunari. Of course it wouldn’t end there. There would be a war, and an Exalted March and (in her head – almost certainly not in reality) the crushing of the Qunari by the might of the righteous Chantry.


And her method is inspiring fear. Her assaults are relatively small, but calculated to make each side think of the other as violent, dangerous and evil. She’s arranged for the murder and mutilation of Qunari before: the bodies left for Arvaarad to find, so he would think Hawke and the Saarebas were responsible. She’s used poison gas on her own people (it would have been blackpowder, had she been able to get her hands on any) in an attempt to frame the Qunari. Here, she has arranged for the torture and murder of a Qunari delegation, to demonstrate to the Arishok how far the ‘faithful’ will go to be rid of the Qunari. Eventually, she will have a high-status Qunari convert murdered so she can use his death as propaganda.


Everything Petrice does is designed to frighten people. There’s a threat behind every strike: If we don’t fight the Qunari, look what they'll do. Each act of violence is aimed at inducing a panic response – in the full knowledge that, eventually, people will be frightened enough to make war.


The contrasts are numerous: Anders is a commoner, a Fereldan (in addition to the whole mage thing), and at present living in the sewers. Petrice is apparently of noble Orlesian stock (so says The World of Thedas), and belongs to the most powerful institution in Kirkwall. The first quest actually makes a point of this: while the people of Darktown rally around their healer and Anders is quite at home there, Petrice, a Chantry sister supposedly responsible for the wellbeing of Kirkwall, is painfully out of place even in Lowtown. Moreover, whereas the underground falls apart around Anders, Petrice is a rising star – a Sister when Hawke first meets her, a Mother by Act 2. Where Anders’s plan requires that he take the blame for his actions, Petrice does everything she can to shield herself – she always works through agents, and here she sells out her own accomplice.


The common ground is a fervent belief in a cause, and at some stage (right off the bat for Petrice; in the endgame for Anders) a belief that violence is the only way to move forward.


And in the cause lies the important contrast.


Anders’s plan is only of value if he’s right. He’s not trying to inspire fear. It’s knowing that the fear is already there that prompts him to act as he does. If he’s wrong and the Circle and Templars are not oppressive institutions designed to control and brutalise mages – then he gets hauled off to prison (and no doubt subsequent execution), and nothing happens to the other mages. Once the Chantry blows up, he can’t lose. It doesn’t matter whether he lives or dies. It doesn’t matter whether Hawke saves the Circle or helps destroy it. The Templars do hold innocent mages accountable for something they had nothing to do with. The word goes out that the Annulment of the Kirkwall Circle was unjust. The Templars impose harsh restrictions on mages of other nations, who had even less to do with all this than the Kirkwall mages – and Fiona seizes her chance.


Point pretty well made.


Petrice, though, is trying to control people’s actions through fear. She is trying to make the people of Kirkwall think the Qunari are a terrifying threat, while still making them think they can take them in a fight. She is using fear to manipulate people, without any regard for the truth. By the time the Qunari uprising begins, Petrice is either dead or disgraced, making her a personal failure. But the uprising itself demonstrates how painfully wrong she was. A small, depleted Qunari force takes control of the city in a matter of hours. No fight, no war, with the Qunari is ever going to be easy – and one that started in Kirkwall would almost certainly result in the loss of the city. It turns out that the Qunari were easy prey for her before this because they didn't want to fight.


And that shreds her other argument. She has been depicting them as unthinking savages. Terrifying in their brutality, yes, but so inherently less than Chantry folk (specifically humans), that they cannot help but lose. But the truth is that they have thought about this. The Arishok has been trying to avoid bloodshed. The Qunari troops have resisted provocation to a heroic degree. The Qun is what it is, and certainly no better than the Chantry. But the Qunari – the horned people who make up the majority of its adherents – are not monsters, just people like any other. Big, strong people who could have wreaked havoc a hell of a lot earlier, had they not been trying to keep the peace.


It’s easy to make people afraid, particularly if you’re willing to lie and kill to do it. But if that’s all you’ve got to work with, you’re pretty well screwed. And, well, there you go. Terrorism. Inspiring fear in order to achieve political ends. That’s Act 2′s story.

Giddy

Originally posted by dericeketlihatun

Request: Hi love! Can you do a Edward Cullen imagine reader is his blood singer and has the power to mirror powers and can you include the covens to.😊
For: @tangled-lust
Words: 1,147

Edward Cullen x Read

Gonna do the Readers powers kinda like Rogue from X-men


Patience might be a virtue but it was definitely not your thing.
Sat on the hood of Edward’s car, you clicked your feet together and waited with your boyfriend who was reading his book.
“I don’t see why I can’t go in there.” You pouted.
Edward didn’t look up from his book, “Yes you do. If and your brother hadn’t dared each other to try to jump off of the shed then you wouldn’t have cut your leg and you wouldn’t have to wait out here.”
You leaned back against the windscreen with a groan, why was he so eager to remind you of your misadventures? It hadn’t been a bad cut by human standards, Carlisle had cleaned it up in two minutes but it was enough to keep Edward away for a few days while it was healing. You’d also had to stay away from the rest of the Cullen’s, just in case it started bleeding again. That’s why you were sat waiting, Edward was waiting until he knew everyone in the house would be okay with the ever so slight scent before he risked taking you in there.

And by everyone, you knew that he meant Jasper. Having read your mind Edward put his book down, “You’re practically healed, blood in a bandage does not smell nice so that’s not tempting to me. But Jasper’s very sensitive.”
You accepted the answer and Edward went back to his book, after a moment you inched your hand towards his.
“Don’t even try it.” Edward warned not looking up.
You pouted, “You promised not to keep reading my mind.”

“It’s not my fault that you can’t be sneaky.” He countered amused. You inched your hand closer to him again.
“Y/N.” He warned, not looking away from his book again but you could see the amusement on his face. He knew what you were planning, if you could just get a good grip on any of his skin you’d momentarily be able to hitch a ride with his powers and be able to read everyone’s mind in the house and get in there quicker. It would have been nice to have a super awesome backstory about your powers, a classic like an experiment gone wrong or a radioactive spider.

But alas, it seemed you were just born with them.
You didn’t even know that you had your powers until you’d met Edward and accidently brushed his hand with yours in class, suddenly there were nearly thirty hormone fuelled voices rushing through your mind. You’d collapsed under the stress of it all the first time and been taken into hospital where Carlisle had treated you and Edward spilled the beans about his mind reading powers, his clan and you being his blood singer. An ill-advised move but hey, they needed to help you with your powers. It had taken a long time to come around to the idea and even longer for Rosalie to become your friend, she thought Edward was making the same mistakes with you as he made with Bella, they’d had a bad breakup and now Bella ran with the Mutts.
She was pleasantly surprised though when she got to know you and you became good friends with all of them. Jasper’s powers were quite overwhelming, the onetime you’d both been comfortable enough at the closeness to try it but he was incredibly helpful at guiding you in using them.  Emmett’s favourite thing that you’d ever done was singing the That’s so Raven! Theme song before taking Alice’s hand, as luck would have it she was getting a vision at the same time and the power of it knocked you clean out and you dropped to the floor.

The more that you used your powers the less they wore you out or knocked you unconscious, Carlisle had a theory that if you were to become a Vampire that instead of just experiencing another’s powers you may actually be able to hijack them and ‘borrow’ them for a small time.

Edward tucked his book inside his jacket and slid off of the hood just as you’d nearly got close enough to touch him, he stepped around to where you were sat and put his hands on your hips to help you down off of the car, “Jasper’s fine, we can go in.”
You leaned into him and let him meet you the rest of the way to give you a soft kiss, he was often awkward about these things so you never tried to push it too far.
A wolf whistle made you both separate and Edward shot Emmett a glare whilst you gave him a cheeky grin.
“Come on Eddie, stop hoarding her all to yourself.” Emmett called and within a blink he was beside you, he took you from Edwards arms and ran with you back into the house, laughing the whole time as Edward chased him telling him to be careful. Howling with laughter Emmett dropped you down on the sofa beside Jasper who gave you a tight nod in greeting.

You settled down together for a while, you and Jasper on one sofa and Emmett and Edward playing video games on the other sofa when you nudged Jasper with your elbow. He gave you a look but when you smirked he returned it and held his hand out for you.

You took his hand and watched the room change, Jasper’s powers were your favourite to experience. The world sank back slightly and was replaced with blurs of swirling colours. It was so beautiful. You could only help move the colours; you reached out for vibrant pink watercolour floating in your peripheral and with Jasper’s help you pulled it over to your boyfriend.
Edward looked up at you both and gave you a charming smile, “Stop it you two.”
“We’re not doing anything.” Jasper lied and you grinned.
Emmett gave you both a cheeky grin, “What’re you doing?”
“Jasper’s letting Y/N use his powers.” Edward explained and tried to refocus on his book but his blinding smile never left.
“What have you given him?” Emmett asked with a grin.
“Excitement and giddiness.” You laughed.
Edward shook his head at your antics before moving to you at vampire speed and brushing his lips over yours, you could feel his grin against your lips.
You could hear Jasper talking to Emmett, “I’m not even using my powers on him anymore.”
“Aww look at them, how adorable.” Emmett cooed and you urged Edward to sit down with you so that you could cuddle up to him and gave Emmett the finger.

Invisible, Chapter Nine

Summary: Cursed as a child, you have lived your entire life invisible and alone. When deaths start happening in your town, the Winchesters come rolling in to investigate. What will happen when Dean is the first one who has been able to see you since you were a kid? Will Sam believe that you’re real? Will Dean believe you when you tell him you haven’t killed anyone? And why, after all of this time, is Dean Winchester the only one who can see you?

Invisible Masterlist - Previous Chapter

word count: ~1750

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deancass-andeverythinginbetween  asked:

🎡👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨💍

“I’m still not entirely sure why this is a good idea.” Castiel looked at the large groups of people walking around, the sound of voices and music slowly flowing towards them as they stepped out of the Impala.

“Hey, it’s gonna be fun, I promise, alright?” Dean answered.

Castiel looked at the blonde as he walked over to him and held out his arm.

“Alright.” Cas smiled shyly, then locked his arm together with Dean’s.

He didn’t know how he got so lucky to be on his third date with Dean Winchester, the most handsome and sweetest guy in school. Dean was popular, Cas wasn’t, but Dean still showed interest in Cas since they got Latin together.

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(s)AINT

Another one-shot I wrote for @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash‘s second Writing Challenge. I honestly have no idea where I found the courage to actually post this, but there you have it, some priest!Negan smut… With a twist. 

Synopsis: Father Negan, the new priest in town, sparks the interest of Angelica, a girl who used to live there and is back only for the weekend.

Warnings: cursing, blasphemy galore, major priest kink, dirty talk, spanking, sliiiight name calling, unprotected sex.

Word count: 3379

Originally posted by jdm-negan-mcnaughty

The sun was starting to set as Angelica pulled her ash blonde hair up into a tight bun and applied a thin layer of colorless lip gloss over her rosy lips.

She was staying at her aunt’s place for a few days and couldn’t believe her younger cousin Maria had persuaded her to go to church with her. There wasn’t much to do in this small town anyways, so she’d agreed to join her for evening mass, despite the fact that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in the presence of a bible.

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anonymous asked:

If it appeals to you at all, would you consider writing something for the fugitive phase? Like the highs and lows or something along those lines?

Day 1

“What are we going to do?” Scully asked once the rain had stopped.  Mulder had thought she was asleep.  He was barely clinging to consciousness himself, but still clinging to her.

“There’s a contingency plan,” he mumbled against her shoulder.  “The gunmen-”

“The gunmen are dead.”

“I know.  We worked it out before…everything.  I-we have IDs, passports, papers…money to disappear with.”

“We do?”

“There’s a safe deposit in San Francisco.  That’s what we’re going to do.”

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ar-tecon  asked:

Oooooo! Could you do the RFA+V+Saeran's reactions to MC having a big old fluffy mutt that's really well trained but cuddly? Thank you! <3

I!!!!!!!! Love!!!!!!!! Dogs!!!!!!!!!!!!
I want a dog sooo bad ;-;
(D/N) is the dog’s name of course.

Yoosung:
-He is pretty indifferent about pets until now.
-If you like pets, then he likes pets.
-The dog manages to get along with Lisa too.
-Despite having previously not cared much about owning pets, the dog grew on him fairly quickly. It might’ve been because you loved the dog so much, maybe it was because they were so friendly. Maybe it was both.
-It was nice to have a dog after his experience with Sally.
-He loved that you and the dog would both greet him so happily when he came home.
-Also, the fact that they didn’t bark and tear up the whole house was a huge relief. He did not want to deal with that.
-Yoosung tends to give the dog treats a lot. By treats, I mean human food.
-He’ll sneak some food to the dog even though the dog doesn’t beg for food because of how well behaved they are.
-Something about giving the dog treats makes him happy.

Zen:
-It’s not a cat, so he’s cool with it.
-He’s also a bit of a dog person himself, so he’s very cool with it.
-It’s a big relief for him that you’ll never be home alone. You have a big dog to protect you and keep you company whenever he’s away from home, or when you go out for a walk.
-Really, you have no relieved he is for that.
-The dog is so extremely well trained too. They never mess with anything around the house or make a lot of noise.
-There might be hair around the house, but you always take care of that so he doesn’t have to.
-He takes selfies with the dog sometimes, or with you and the dog.
-The dog also really likes Zen, but both the dog and Zen crave your attention.
-One of them will see you paying attention to the other and get jealous and try to get your attention instead.
-Who knew you actually had two puppies.

Jaehee:
-She’s not big on pets, mostly because of her previous experiences with Elizabeth.
-She doesn’t like all of the hair and fur getting all over the place.
-Because of that, you’re nervous because your dog is fluffy.
-You promise her that you will take care of all of the hair and that they will never lay on her clothes like Elizabeth did because they were trained not to do things like that.
-When she hears how well behaved the dog is, she calms down.
-And, when she meets the dog, she is surprised of just how well behaved the dog really is.
-They aren’t rambunctious and they don’t make messes. She didn’t know animals like that existed.
-Jaehee is now okay with your dog.
-She enjoys giving them commands that they’ve been taught like “shake” or “sit” and then giving them treats as a reward.
-She grows to actually really love your dog. She loves them so much that she even helps clean up the hair they leave around the house.

Jumin:
-Conflicted.
-The dog makes you happy and you love it very much.
-But he feels like the dog could easily hurt his precious Elizabeth since it is such a large dog.
-You promise him that your dog is very well trained, but he still has his doubts.
-It’s not until you force him to meet your dog that he believes you.
-The dog is as well behaved as you had told him countless times and they are very friendly. They greeted him so happily when he first walked through the door.
-Much to everyone’s surprise, he warmed up to the dog.
-Even when he gathers up the courage to introduce Elizabeth to the dog, Elizabeth doesn’t seem very threatened by them. Eventually, even Elizabeth likes your dog.
-So all is well.
-All four of you have cuddle sessions together often. It’s very warm.

Saeyoung:
-Dogs are fine and all, but cats.
-Cats are so nice.
-He doesn’t dislike dogs, he’s just more of a cat person.
-But when he meets your dog for himself, he changes his mind.
-Your dog is awesome.
-It is so well behaved and friendly he finds himself really enjoying messing with them like he messed with Elizabeth, minus the running around with them in his arms because they are way too big and heavy for that.
-It’s just… they never get angry and snap at him when he messes with them?
-So he finds it hilarious.
-He plays with your dog all the time though, typically in normal ways like playing fetch or tug-of-war.
-Other times he does things like pretend he is also a dog and tries to wrestle it.
-I swear to god, Saeyoung
-Even though Saeyoung teases them all the time, they still cuddle up to him and love him.

V:
-Your dog quickly grows on him because they’re so cuddly and well trained.
-V has always had a soft spot for animals, so he sees no problem with you having a pet. In fact, he likes that you have a thing for animals.
-The dog keeps him company if you’re ever not around. He appreciates that the dog does the same for you when he’s not around too.
-Because of his worsening vision, he has thought about getting a service animal. The fact that you like dogs and have one of your own makes him want a service dog even more.
-When he runs the idea by you, you’re obviously up for it.
-Your dog and his service dog get along wonderfully because they are both so well trained.
-Now, neither you, V, or both of your dogs are ever lonely.

Saeran: (this one is longer because I got a really fluffy idea, sorry)
-He doesn’t have experience with animals so he doesn’t really have any opinion on pets.
-But, your dog is so friendly and calm, it makes it easy for him to warm up to them.
-The first time you brought him to meet your dog was precious.
-Your dog went straight to him when you both walked through the door and started sniffing him and nudging him while waging their tail and panting happily. They didn’t bark, of course, which was a great thing considering it would’ve scared Saeran. The size of the dog was intimidating enough.
-Saeran just stared at you like an innocent, confused child silently asking what’s happening. You smiled to him before crouching down and petting your dog, bringing their attention to you instead. You greeted your dog in a baby voice because who doesn’t do that when they see a puppy.
-Saeran sat on his knees beside you, watching how you interacted with the dog. He was a bit nervous and you could tell.
-So, you took matters into your own hands. You gave him a light smile, seeing that he was still observing what was happening beside him like a lost little boy, and gently took his hand.
-Carefully, you brought his hand over to the dog’s head. When you let go, the dog began rubbing against his hand, still panting with delight.
-With the same lost expression on his face, he rubbed the dogs head cautiously.
-“Saeran, this is (D/N). (D/N), this is Saeran,” you introduced them.
-Saeran’s eyes didn’t leave the dog the entire time he was petting them. You saw him ease from his previously tense state slowly.
-That is, until your dog got a bit eager and started to climb onto Saeran, standing on his knees.
-You had a mini heart attack because you were afraid Saeran was going to be scared, but you heard light giggles instead.
-Saeran was giggling.
-He started to pet the dog with less caution, petting all over their huge body.
-He didn’t stop smiling and letting out smol small giggles the whole time. He was so mesmerized by how soft and friendly the dog was.
-The dog even rolled over and let Saeran rub their stomach.
-It was the cutest thing you’d ever seen in your life.
-Saeran was even doing little baby-talk noises under his breath.
-can you imagine
-He acted like a little boy seeing a dog for the first time because that’s exactly what he was.
-Needless to say, he loves dogs now. Specifically yours.
-Your dog is his new best friend.

The Night Ahead (Part 2)

summary: bucky came out of cryostasis after just a few months. with the help of steve, he’s trying to piece the fractions of his mind back together. while flipping through old HYDRA files, he remembers something from his days as the winter soldier: you.

pairing: bucky x reader (sort of?? it’s complicated)

series contains: angsty angst, sadness, bucky reliving memories as the Winter Soldier, violence, people die a lot, bucky trying to cope, really awful translations of German, Russian, and Romanian (thanks to google translate i apologize in advance)

a/n: thank you for all the nice comments and love for this fic! i appreciate it and love you all for it. hopefully this part is just as enjoyable as the first, and it’s now from the reader’s perspective. also, i had issues with the tags last time. almost half of the people didn’t end up getting tagged? so hopefully tumblr isn’t an asshole this time. MASTER LIST | PART ONE

Originally posted by multi-fandom-imagines13

The Belmont Inn sat in solidarity upon one of the many hills located in rural Montana. Looking upon the Inn from the town nestled in the valley below, there’s a single winding road that reached the Inn’s entrance. The Inn itself had been around since the early 1900s but received a facelift a couple of years ago. It was one of those buildings that were created with the intent to merge with the surrounding environment rather than stand out. Made from spruce wood, both the inside as well as the outside reminded people of the old country. It was impressive, but an overall simple architectural feat. It was one of my favorite places.

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Ten Minutes omegaverse

OMG I’ve finally made it! It was never ending…please note that this is the first time that I’ve translated one of my fiction soooo…..please don’t kill me. I know it will be full of mistakes but I did my best. Let me know your thoughts

19 Days,Omegaverse AU

Chapter 1

He Tian x Mo GuanShan

NSFW

Summary: “He stripped off as quickly as possible and threw himself under the hot water of the shower. The awareness of using He Tian’s shower caused him an annoying feeling at his stomach, as if he was sharing something intimate and private. He tried to move as little as possible, avoiding to move his feet so he wouldn’t touch too many tiles. He didn’t want to leave too many traces”


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Laundry

* Alexander Hamilton x Reader
* Modern College AU
* 204: Is there a special reason as you why you’re wearing my shirt?

A/N: So here’s a random idea I had when someone decided to mess with my laundry while I was off in classes. As for two stories in one day, yay! I had very little homework but this weekend I’m going on a cleaning spree. Plus I haven’t looked at my request recently so I don’t have any real pressing or even good ideas right now. But I digress. I hope y’all enjoy this silly little, fluffy story.

Word Count: 2,134

~~

Co-ed dorms weren’t the best. True, it was more calm than the freshman dorm, but now you had you had to deal with guys all the time. The worst was the laundry room. Guys clothes were everywhere. They spread out as if it was their laundry room at home and they didn’t have to share it with a building of other people.

You walked into the room, your basket balanced on your hip. You winced at all the clothes on the floor that must have missed when getting tossed into the machine. You hoisted your basket up onto a machine and started sorting and loading your clothes. You started the machine and and headed back to your room and hoping your laundry wouldn’t be messed with.

You delved into some homework.You wrote a couple of papers, pausing only to switch your clothes over to the dryer. You finally went to go retrieve you now dry clothes. You grabbed the basket without a second thought and carried it back to your room. You started folding your clothes and putting them away. You furrowed your brow when you found a pair of jeans that were clearly not yours. They looked like they’d be a bit baggy on you but not too long. They were mens pants, judging by the appearance and deep pockets.

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I Am Too

Hello! I have not written anything in a long time (since 2013 rip) but I could not stay away from H so here is something I came up with. Hope ya’ll enjoy. 



**************

The gathering with your friends had been going on for a couple of hours now and since you had a meeting earlier that day you were feeling a little more tired than you’d liked. You were sat at the edge of one the couches while drinking something that was more ice than anything. You were brought back into the room when you suddenly felt the weight of the couch tilt. 

“You’ve been sitting in this couch for the past hour. Is everything alright?” asked Harry while handing you a drink that had the perfect amount of ice cubes and liquor.

“Yeah, I’m just tired. Wish this wasn’t happening on a Tuesday honestly” you stated while Harry chuckled. 

You were always the one to go to sleep first between you both and probably all of your friends. He wouldn’t mind it if you also weren’t the first one to wake up. He liked seeing you calm and quiet in the mornings but you were always out of bed before he could rub the sleep from his eyes. 

You and Harry had been seeing each other for the past few weeks but no one knew about it. There was a few people in your close friend group that knew you guys had hooked up in the past but nothing too serious. Due to some recent events, you decided to see what your relationship could flourish into but you did not want to break the news to your friends. Not yet, at least. And based on the last couple gatherings, your friends had no clue. 

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SPEAKING OF MONSTER GIRLS i just rediscovered a thing i started last year and then forgot about

The grand escape from certain doom in a foreign land was going very well until xe fell off a cliff.

To be fair, it was not an obvious cliff. Nor was it a large cliff. It barely even qualified as a cliff. A ledge. A short drop. It was more of a slide than a fall, even. But there was a lot of shrieking, and skirts going in all directions, and legs going in two directions. It was almost as alarming to watch as it was to experience.

Lily Rose of the House of the Fifth Blue Star landed safely in rotting leaves and dirt. It felt a bit anticlimactic. With the amount of fuss xe’d made in falling, xe’d expected at least one broken ankle. Or two sprained ones. Either or. Instead xe was fine, which made all the screaming quite silly in retrospect. Dainty cloven hooves speared through leaves to find solid ground to stand on, rising up on spindly legs. Xe tried to straighten out xyr skirts, but only managed to fix about half of them. There were a lot of skirts. Xe resembled a layer cake made by someone with more enthusiasm than skill.

A layer cake which had then been thrown off a cliff. Which, to be fair: one might, if one was possessed both in close proximity. For curiosity’s sake, if nothing else.

Leaves had tangled in the ribbons wrapped around xyr antlers, and xe huffed as xe tried to fix them. Just because xe was mounting a grand escape from certain doom didn’t mean xe had to look like a ragamuffin while doing it.

Standards.

All four hands froze at the sound of an ominous hiss. In xyr limited experience, most hissing was ominous. Xe could not recall having ever heard a hiss that boded well. Xe blinked, switching xyr optic sensors into night-mode to better see what lurked in the shadows of the trees.

Xe shrieked again.

Xe then clapped two hands over xyr mouth, because shrieking was both unproductive and rude.

She slid out from beneath the trees, five times more tail than torso and all of it much larger than Rose. She was pale opalescent scales and shimmering golden horns, black eyes and a blood-red mouth. Of her two arms, only one was organic; the other was gold, white light at the seams. Both hands had too many fingers, too many joints, too long, too sharp. Her open mouth revealed glinting fangs as she made more hissing sounds.

Rose squeaked, xyr eyes switching back to a setting less blinding. Then, because xe was at a loss for what to do, xe curtsied. Xe had a vague hope that it would cause enough confusion to buy xem some time. From what, xe did not know.

She scratched her chin, cocking her head to the side. Then she reached into the pocket of her doublet, and offered Rose a small sliver of gold on the tip of one finger.

“Oh!” Rose blinked in surprise. Xe had never seen a Shethi before; xe had not anticipated the size differences. Or the scales. “Yes, I suppose that would help, wouldn’t it?” Xe took careful steps closer, two hands holding xyr skirts up enough that xe wouldn’t step on them. Accepting the gift, xe set it on xyr tongue to press it to the roof of xyr mouth. It hummed, and the two of them waited in awkward silence for the data transfer to complete.

She reached out, and plucked a leaf from Rose’s antlers. Xyr ears twitched reflexively, and xe could feel xyr nose turn purple. She cocked her head to the side again, watching. Rose tried not to stare at her horns.

They were much bigger than xyrs.

Xe sighed in relief when the humming stopped, pulling the chip out of xyr mouth to tuck it into a small pocket. “Is this better?” xe transmitted hopefully.

“Much,” the stranger confirmed. “Why are you in my garden?”

Rose blinked again. Xe looked around them, at the little clearing in the woods. They were surrounded by nothing but dead trees, like a little graveyard amidst the towering red trunks. Everything smelled of rot and mold. Xyr nose twitched.

“This is a garden?” xe asked.

She reached for Rose again, and this time xe recoiled, because her hand was going for xyr bodice. She plucked a small mushroom from where it had been trapped in the laces, and held it up so xe could see. Xe covered xyr nose, as if that would make the blushing less obvious. “Yes,” she said simply.

“Oh.” Xe sagged. “It… was an accident.”

She rolled the fingers of her golden hand thoughfully, the joints all chiming as she did so. “I am Yana,” she said. “And you are?”

Again, Rose curtsied. “Lily Rose of the House of the Fifth Blue Star,” xe introduced.

“Ah.” Her face became distant as she processed this information. “You’re the gift from Koret.” It wasn’t a question. “Why are you here?”

“Diplomacy?” xe suggested.

“Not here,” she said, making a wide gesture with her hands. She pointed to the ground beneath them. “Here. You’re supposed to be at the palace.”

Rose fidgeted. “Can you keep a secret?”

“I can,” she said with an inclination of her head.

“I ran away,” xe said.

Yana scratched her chin again. “Between you and me,” she said, “I don’t think that will be a secret for very long.”

“Well, no,” xe agreed. “The secret is that I’m here.” Rose pointed to the ground beneath them. “I haven’t made it very far, you see, and if I could at least make it a little further it would be less embarrassing.”

“I see.” She steepled her fingers. “Your plan was to live in the woods?”

Xe scuffed her hooves in the dirt. “For a while,” xe said.

“And what were you going to eat?”

“Small rodents and large insects?” xe suggested.

“I see,” she said again, in a manner that did not inspire confidence. “You find this preferable to marriage?”

Am I supposed to get married?” Rose asked. “I wasn’t sure.”

Yana frowned. “Did no one tell you?”

“I read the treaty,” xe said, “but we had some trouble translating a few things.”

“What did you think you were signing?”

“The point of confusion was,” xe explained, “I was either supposed to marry a King, or be eaten by a dragon.”

Yana shut her eyes, golden fingers draped over her face. “Those are certainly… concepts.” She dropped her hand. “Why did no one ask for clarification?”

“Then we would have to admit we needed clarification,” xe explained. “We didn’t want the Shethi to think we were stupid.”

“I see.” Yana had, Rose realized, been moving her tail while they spoke. It did not quite circle xem, but it came close. Xe stamped an anxious hoof. “So you agreed to come here not knowing if you were meant to be married or eaten?”

“In fairness,” xe said, “there was only a fifty percent chance I would have to marry a King.”