things that are not really related to my new book except in my head

mine || dylan o'brien

word count: 4113

warnings: fluff

prompt: based on this song

author’s note: Y/D/N = Your Daughter’s Name, Y/S/N = Your Son’s Name (not my gif)


Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Concept: Lance with glasses. He always wore contacts so no one knew. Maybe people used to call him 'four-eyes' so he doesn't feel as comfortable wearing them around other people like Pidge. Then one day his eyes really hurt or are dry from lack of sleep so he has to wear them. Queue everyone being like: 'Whaaaattt?? You have glasses?' Or 'Why do you have Pidge's glasses?' and poor Lance is just so uncomfortable.

My poor boy :( 

Mentions of bullying 

Lance was around 6 when he first got his glasses. His eyes weren’t the best and he would always get his family members messed up and couldn’t read the board in class, no matter how close he sat to it. 

His father took him to get his eyes checked and even helped him pick out a pair of glasses. Lance thought that that they were the coolest thing ever. 


“Move it four eyes.” Lance was shoved to the ground. His books and glasses scattering around the school yard. Lance started to stand up but was ‘accidently’ pushed back down by the kids. 

Lance fought back tears as he tried to stand up. He started to move to his glasses but as his hands reached out the them he heard a crack. Lance squinted as the boy that was towering above him, his foot on his glasses. 

“Whoops, sorry about that Lance.” Lance started crying as the boys laughed at him. 


Lance went home that day in tears. He didn’t want his parents to know but they obviously knew. His mother demanded to know what happened but Lance wouldn’t tell at first. He didn’t want to be labeled as weak to his own parents. However he eventually broke under their pressure and he told them about his bullies. He begged his parents not to tell the school or his siblings. 

His parents looked at him with sad eyes and told him they will do what needs to be done. 

The next day Lance was taken to get new glasses and contacts. 


Lance always tried to wear his contacts, he didn’t want people to know about his glasses. The only person on the team that knew about Lance’s glasses was Hunk. After all they did share a room together at the Garrison, Lance couldn’t hide it from him. 

Unfortunately homesickness consumed him to the point where he started to lose sleep. It wasn’t uncommon for Lance to wake up with dry skin and eyes, everything hurting from his head down to his toes. 

Lance rubbed his eyes and walked into his bathroom. He stared down at his contact case then shifted his eyes to where his glasses sat. 

He debated putting his contacts in, but his eyes hurt that morning. The light seem to make his eyes burn and his eyes felt dry no matter how many times he blink. 

He stared at his glasses, They team won’t care. He grabbed them and got changed and walked to the dining room. 


He heard the team before he saw them. They were all laughing and talking excitedly. Lance smiled to himself, just like his family. 

Lance entered the room and sat down in his usual seat next to Keith. 

Keith glanced at Lance then looked at Lance. He just stared at Lance. 

Lance shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Umm good morning?” 

“Why do you have Pidge’s glasses?” Keith asked, his eyes staring at the metal that surround Lance’s eyes. 

“I don’t, they’re mine.” Lance looked down at the table. Damnit I knew this would happen. 

Something that Lance wanted to keep in a small conversation turned into the topic of discussion among the paladins. 

Keith looked at Pidge “Hey Pidge, do you have an extra pair of glasses?” He gestured to Lance. 

“No…Oh my, Lance you have the same pair as me??? I guess that makes you a nerd just like me!” She smiled brightly at him. 

Lance bit his cheek. Everyone was gushing over his glasses, except Hunk who was staring at Lance with concern. 

Lance started to fold in on himself slightly, they were just glasses. 

Hunk took notice to how Lance was reacting and cleared his throat. “Good morning Lance! How’d you sleep?” 

Lance looked at Hunk and smiled. “I slept alright, what about you?” 

“I slept pretty good, ready for the day?” 

Lance smiled “Yes! I’ll beat you to the training deck!” Lance took off running. 

Hunk smiled and looked at his teammates who looked confused? Maybe that wasn’t the right word but the looked off. 

Hunk exhaled and faced the team. “Guys Lance is really insecure about his glasses, he was bullied a lot for them in school. Just don’t bring attention to them when he wear them.” Hunk gave a small smile and ran out of the room. 

The team looked at each other and the all mutually agreed to act like Lance wasn’t even wearing glasses. 

I honestly hate how I ended this :/ 

Sorry it took so long

I relate to this a lot. When I got my glasses last year everyone thought they were fake and would always take them during class. I hated it. 

Thank you for this 

anonymous asked:

Hello! So I was scouring the Internet for advice today but I couldn't find any on this topic. My problem isn't that I don't have any ideas (I probably have too many) but the problem is that I don't LOVE any of my ideas. I like them. I think they're all fine ideas. But liking them isn't going to motivate me long enough to finish a novel. How can I give my ideas that extra uumph to make me love them? How can I figure out what's missing or why I don't feel this way about any of my ideas?

Hello, nonny!  What a challenging question…  This one’s been in my inbox a couple days, just because it’s such a big question.  But I’ve thought it over and I think I have some ideas for you :)

The Thrill Is Gone – How to Find It Again

So generally, there’s no one answer or cure-all to this problem.  I’ve had this issue multiple times, with different causes.  My first novel didn’t have enough meat to the plot; my second novel had been over-planned in my head to the point that it no longer excited me.  My third novel had way too much plot, so that by the time I got ¾ the way through, I’d written over 200K words and felt sick of the idea.  I started my fourth novel way too soon, and am now going back and planning it more!  So there are obviously many different reasons that a story doesn’t take off (or dries up eventually).

The first step is to figure out what’s missing, like you said.  There are a few aspects of your story to assess…

1. Plot

I’m discussing plot first because, to me, it’s the most important part of fiction.  Plot, conflict, and stakes are foremost to my stories.  You could have the most complex and sympathetic characters, but without plot, they’re static and become boring.  But for some reason, this is the part of story ideas that new authors neglect most!

So if your story has great characters and an immersive setting, but you can’t get into it, try asking a few questions about your plot:

  • What is the point of the plot?  What’s the message you’re conveying in the story?  Even if your story isn’t an allegory or a metaphor or the next Chronicles of Narnia, there should always be a conclusion to which all plots arrive – otherwise, the story can feel aimless.  The best way to find your message is to look at the conflicts involved (e.g. Man vs. Man, Man vs. Nature, etc.) and find the “winner”.  What worldview, belief, or concept “defeats” the other concepts?  It can be as simple as Good vs. Evil, or more complex, like Loving the Sincere Drug Addict vs. Settling for the Selfish Dentist (provokes the question “Is love worth danger in relationships?”).
  • Does the plot have ups and downs?  And really consider both ends of the spectrum here.  Stories become dull if they are made up of victory after victory – or if they’re made up of nothing but loss and tragedy.  No matter the genre, you have to strike some sort of balance, lest the story become predictable and emotionally non-engaging.  Find victories and failures, even in unassuming places, to keep readers invested and hopeful.
  • Do you have a satisfactory ending?  Or do you have the ending     planned yet?  I’ve found that I can’t really commit to an idea unless I see a resolution – otherwise I feel too nervous to start.  If you do have an ending planned, make sure it’s the right ending.  It can feel like there’s one possible conclusion, and once you’ve found it, you stick to it – but question it, brainstorm it.  It may not be a happy ending every time, but when you find the right one, you’ll know it.
  • Do you have the right plot at all?  Look at your story as a whole.  Does it start too early or too late, relative to the real meat,     the real action?  Is it told from the most impactful POV?  Does the plot cover too much ground for one book, or is it not enough to fill the pages?  Consider all the characters, backstories, and subplots you have, and ask yourself if any of them are more interesting than the main plot.  If so, shift your focus.  Use them instead.

2. Characters

Maybe it’s not your plot that’s going sideways.  Maybe you have it all worked out – the head, the tail, the whole damn thing – but it still doesn’t feel right.  It doesn’t feel like it’s coming to life, somehow.  It feels flat.

That can be a character problem.  It would be like sitting by the campfire and hearing the most fascinating, horrifying story, except it’s told by a man with The Most Boring Voice Who Talks So Incredibly Slowly and Takes All the Fun Out of Everything.  An example: The Hunger Games.  Those books bored the crap out of me.  Unless someone was being killed or Haymitch and Effie were interacting, I just didn’t care.  And those books had a great plot behind them!

So here’s what you need for a good cast of characters:

  • A solid protagonist.  Solid = three-dimensional, empathetic, and relatable; having a goal, an internal conflict, a self-image, and fears or shame.  They should have different facets of themselves – their head and their heart, their desires and doubts, and that little voice in their head that says, “Give up on that.  Be realistic.”  Give them strengths, weaknesses, and a couple of bad habits, for kicks.
  • A variety of supporting characters.  You don’t have to have thirty characters + six secret characters stuffed under your trench coat; but with however many characters you have, make them as different from each other as possible.  Give them some similarities, of course, so that they can relate to each other – but never make them so close together that you have to decide, “Who should say this line?  Character A or Character B?”  Make them unique enough that the words come out of their mouths, instead of you having to decide where to put the words, yourself.
  • Relationships, relationships, relationships.  And I’m not talking about romantic relationships.  I mean, sure, those too – but there are many different kinds of relationships to explore.  Friendships, enemy-ships (?), parent relationships, sibling-ships, silent alliances, “annoying friend-of-a-friend”-ships, “my-ex’s-little-sister”-ships, “you’re-the-ruler-of-the-galaxy-and-a-Sith-lord-but-also-my-dad-please-stop-being-evil”-ships…  You get the idea.  Make them unique, make them strong, and allow them to evolve over the course of the story.
  • Diverse morals, interests, and personalities.  My first short stories focused on white middle-class people who were culturally and politically identical.  They lived in one house, usually, and watched the same TV shows and made the same references.  They had the same sense of humor.  They rarely disagreed on anything that wasn’t clear-cut (e.g. “You drank the last Pepsi!”  “I was thirsty!”).  So do yourself a favor and don’t make my mistakes.  Give your characters unique ethics, cultures, backgrounds, personalities, goals, appearances, and conflicts.  You’ll be more invested by then, I’m sure.

3. Setting

Lastly, I’d like to add that while your characters and plot could be well-developed, there’s always a chance that they’re placed in the wrong setting.  This is why many story ideas can seem great, but won’t get off the ground – maybe they’re set in a pre-made universe like Middle Earth or Panem when they could be their own story.  Maybe your tragic romance is set in the middle of apocalyptic war, when instead, it should be drained down to a period piece.  Maybe your story is perfect, except you’re writing it too close to home – in the real world, in the present year.  There are a million factors to picking the right setting, including:

  • Applicable history and culture.  If you’re writing a story about someone who’s oppressed, or someone who’s a politician, or someone who’s a witch, you’re going to need to back that up with history.  Develop a history for the oppression or politics or witchcraft – where these things began, how they developed over time – and a culture for them now – how oppressed people survive and how witches in your world interact, etc.
  • Imaginative scenery, influenced by the characters.  Even if your story takes place in New York City in 2017, allow your characters’ living spaces and workplaces to have a unique touch – colors and quirks that your readers can see in their mind.  If even you can’t see what you’re writing, inspiration is going to be difficult to find.
  • A lifelike background.  Just because the plot focuses on your characters does not mean everything going on behind it should be quiet and dead.  Anyone who looks out a window in a city building can see other people living – people on the highway will see other cars taking other people other places.  Everyone who has a friend will hear a little something about their friend’s siblings, their friend’s friends, their friend’s neighbors.  Life and stories exist outside of your plot; make sure you’re not writing about a ship in a bottle.
  • An aesthetic.  That sounds gross and teen-tumblr-y, but let me tell you personally: I don’t feel truly ready to write (and love) my story until I can hear the music for the future movie adaptation – until I can see the kind of clothes the people wear, the games they play, the places they eat and shop.  I think of the colors and themes in my scenes (e.g. my first novel was set primarily at night in a grunge/city setting; my current novel is very green and outdoorsy and gives me that feeling of bonfires just after sunset).  Once you get that “feeling” from your story, you’ll know it.

Anyway, this reply took me like three days to write because I really wanted to get into it.  I hope some of this helps you to fall in love with one of your ideas, so you can get started :)  If you have any more questions, be sure to send them in!

(I have 26 questions in the inbox, though, so be patient with me…)

If you need advice on writing, fanfiction, or NaNoWriMo, you should maybe ask me!

Camouflage/ Spencer Reid Imagine

A/N: This is my first story that I’m actually putting on tumblr, wish me luck! I have no problem writing a part two if anyone requests it!

Summary: A work related road trip gets a little too hard.

Usually having a new case meant a quick flight across the states, but this time the case was only a couple hours away which only meant one thing, a road trip.

The team had been splitting up into two cars the past couple months just to help ease the tension between you and Spencer.

You two had been together for three years until a small disagreement turned into a massive fight. He insisted on having kids and that was something you just did not see yourself wanting. 

Hotchner pulled you aside to let you know JJ wouldn’t be able to make it on a count of coming down with the flu so there was really no reason in taking two cars.

Oh no. Three hours alone with the man you could barely look at?

Your face turned a little red hinting at being slightly scared mixed with nerves.

“It’ll be okay Y/N. We’ll all be there.” Hotch rested his hand on your shoulder trying to comfort you.

“Thanks Aaron.” You gave a half smile looking up at him and remained standing there until he returned to his desk.

You looked over at Spencer who was putting a couple books and crosswords into his bag for the road trip.

“This will certainly be something..” you mumbled to yourself.


"I vote Y/N on driving first!” David shouted putting his bag into the trunk of the car.

"I second that notion, I could use some down time before we get into this mess.” Derek added on to David peering around the vehicle smirking at you.

Oh alright fine. But I get to play my music without complaints!” You yelled back laughing knowing they wouldn’t be very thrilled at that idea.

Emily laughed, “Oh I’m down for this road trip.”

Rossi rolled his eyes climbing into the back seat of the car, “Its a good thing I brought headphones.”

As you maneuvered into the drivers seat you couldn’t help but notice Spencer had crawled to the very back of the SUV. He looked like someone had taken the life right out of him, your heart dropped a little realizing it was most likely you who did that.

Morgan had called shot gun during the meeting earlier so you were expecting criticism on your driving the entire way there, but you needed something to distract you anyway.


About an hour into the trip, you noticed David and Emily were completely passed out in the second row. Spencer had headphones in as well as Morgan so you figured it was safe to use the aux.

You scrolled through your thousands of songs on your phone not having a clue what to listen to.

One Direction? No, too girly. The Weekend? No, too upbeat for the two sleeping.

Some Selena Gomez seemed like the only thing to really fit the mood. You felt like a teenager listening to her but couldn’t help yourself.

You pressed play on the song and sat your phone down on your lap. Your leggings were so thin that you could feel how cold your phone was.

dead end streets and boulevards you threw in the towel, I broke your heart

No one seemed fazed by the sudden music in the car as you started to mouth the words.

Spencer hadn’t actually had music playing in his headphones but rather just had them in so no one would talk to him. Except no one was talking, it was actually very quiet until you began playing music. He started secretly listening while reading his book.

who would’ve thought you’d feel so cold and all these memories seem so old to think you were my everything

Spencer looked up at you driving while hearing the lyrics in this song. He’d never heard this song before but remembered how you’d sometimes use music to relate to whatever you were feeling.

remember when we’d talk all night but time ain’t easy on us how can love die?

You felt your stomach turn a little knowing how this song made you miss Spencer so much than you already did.

As a few tears were building up, you started to speed up over the limit but hadn’t really noticed.

fortress around my heart you were mine just yesterday now I have no idea who you are it’s like you camouflage.

Although, Spencer had noticed the sudden increase of speed and knowing you were upset, it wasn’t a good mix. It broke his heart to see you like this but he knew there was no going back to the way things used to be.

Before Spence got the chance to get a word out you had ripped the aux out of the jack and put your turn signal on to get off at the rest area.

Rossi had woken up once the car was jerked onto the off ramp and looked up to see a few tears rolling down your cheek, but had no time to get his bearings and ask what was going on before you parked the car and hopped out.

Emily jumped at the sudden slam of your door, “Oh is this a potty break?”

"I think it’s a little more.” Derek mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?” Emily couldn’t hear his mumbles if she were paid.

Derek shook his head so she’d let it go and go back to sleeping.

Rossi got out of the car and looked back at Spencer, “Go. Now.” 
Spencer nodded setting his stuff down ducking to get out from the SUV.

For a rest area the bathroom was the smallest it could possibly be. It only had two stalls and a terribly dim vanity.

You sat in the first stall and started letting your tears fall down as quietly as possible trying not to sniffle every five seconds.

Spencer reached the bathroom door and heard you struggling to choke back your sobs. That killed him.

A small knock on the door came and you cleared your throat, “there’s two stalls, come in!”

Spencer sighed, “it’s me.”

You felt tears returning to your eyes hearing his voice. You couldn’t do this right now, not with a case that your team was counting on you to get them to.

You tore a piece of toilet paper and wiped your eyes so he wouldn’t notice you were upset.

You walked out of the door trying to ignore him leaning against the wall. You headed towards the exit really not wanting any confrontation.

"Y/N, stop.” Spencer reached out putting his hand on your arm.

"Uh uh. Not here. I’m hurt enough and if I talk to you things will just get worse. We’re fire and gasoline. Like you said, I’ll never be able to give you what you want. Remember?”

Gaster created Flowey and (probably) the RESET button.

(I have planned to upload the VIDEO version of this by SEPTEMBER 15. Until then you can read it!)


Yep, you read the title correctly. In this theory I’ll show you all the proof I have to support my wild theory. Warning though, there are some big spoilers ahead!

Let’s start off with a bit of backstory theorizing. In what year does Undertale actually take place? A lot of people seem to believe that the game takes place shortly after 201X. However I invite you to view the timeline in a different light.

What if the game actually took place nearly an entire century after Chara’s fall into the underground?

In Toriel’s house during the pacifist/neutral run there is a calendar you can interact with that states as follows:

This text changes during the Genocide route, where Chara is much more active about how they interact with things.

Now judging by the events of Undertale’s routes we can tell that the events of the Undertale (Chara and Asriel’s mission) happened quite a long time ago. After Chara, six more humans fell down before Frisk. This gives us a good idea that it took quite a while for us to enter the underground.

Judging by the facts above we can safely guess that the events of the game actually occur during 210X, almost a full century after Chara fell. Crazily enough, this is supported by Papyrus. His online name is Coolskeleton95, often people use their birth year as the numbers in their online usernames. And since Papyrus only showed up recently and acts fairly young, we can guess that the date couldn’t possibly be 1995, and so it must be 2095. This is supported by the fact that Papyrus has no idea what a human looks like. Which means he must of been born AFTER all 7 of the other humans (including Chara) have fallen and died.

Now that we have an approximate date for the game itself, we can get into the real theory. Gaster creating Flowey, the ability reset/save/load, and how he is connected to every major moment of the game.

What proof led to the belief that Gaster and Flowey are related? The true lab entries, for one. Entry 1 through 8 are written in a very specific manner. The punctuation and capitalization is correct and proper. The dialogue itself more formally written. Overall the first eight entries are more professional.

During these first eight entries we learn that the monster/determination experiments have begun. Flowey was chosen as the vessel. The experiments have started full swing.

ENTRY 6: ASGORE asked everyone outside the city for monsters that had “fallen down.” Their bodies came in today. They’re still comatose… And soon, they’ll all turn into dust. But what happens if I inject “determination” into them? If their SOULS persist after they perish, then… Freedom might be closer than we all thought.

However at this same time Hapstablook/Mettaton has written his first diary entry.

Mettaton’s Diary 1- Dear Diary: Shyren’s sister “fell down” recently. It’s sad. Without her sister to speak for her… she’s become more reclusive than ever. So I reached out to her, and told her… that she, Blooky, and I should all perform together sometime. She seemed to like that idea.

We can recognise an amalgamate in specific that does resemble Shyren’s body, or at least, her sister’s

This is lemonbread

This is shyren

Alphys doesn’t come up with the idea to make Mettaton until diary entry 6.

Mettaton’s Diary 6- Dear Diary: She surprised me with something today. Sketches of a body that she wants to create for me… a form beyond my wildest fantasies. In a form like that, I could finally feel like… “myself.” After all, there’s no way I can be a star the way I am now. Sorry, Blooky. My dreams can’t wait for anyone…

And it is suspected that she made Mettaton to impress Asgore, as well as give her friend a body.

So what does that all add up to? Alphys made Mettaton to impress Asgore either before she became the royal scientist or very VERY shortly afterwards. We know that she WAS NOT the royal scientist during the initial monster/determination experiments. This means whoever was the previous royal scientist had to of started the experiments and chosen Flowey as the vessel.

And who could that be?

Doctor W.D. Gaster.

Further proof is that Gaster would know who Toriel is.

ENTRY 8: I’ve chosen a candidate. I haven’t told ASGORE yet, because I want to surprise him with it… In the center of his garden, there’s something special. The first golden flower, that grew before all the others. The flower from the outside world. It appeared just before the queen left. I wonder… What happens when something without a SOUL gains the will to live?

Alphys, does not.

So now we’ve proven that Gaster created Flowey. Alphys made of had a part in it, but Gaster chose the vessel, the vessel covered in Asriel’s dust.

This is where the theory gets a little wild.

Now, we know Gaster disappears after True Lab entry number 8. The writing style dramatically changes from entries 9 to 13.

ENTRY 1: This is it… Time to do what the king has asked me to do. I will create the power to free us all. I will unleash the power of the SOUL.

ENTRY 12: nothing is happening. i don’t know what to do. i’ll just keep injecting everything with “determination.” i want this to work.


Now in entry number 11 we can confirm that Alphys is the author.

ENTRY 11: now that mettaton’s made it big, he never talks to me anymore. … except to ask when i’m going to finish his body. but i’m afraid if i finish his body, he won’t need me anymore… then we’ll never be friends ever again. … not to mention, every time i try to work on it, i just get really sweaty…

This one shows that Mettaton has a relationship with the author of the entry. Proof that this style of writing is done by Alphys. However entry 14 and 15 are written differently than either 1-8 or 9-13. It is my belief that the author of these two entries is none other than Sans.

We know Sans and Alphys know each other from the epilogue after True Pacifist.

Alphys knows Sans well enough to predict what he’ll say. Sans reacts quickly and covers it up with a joke, but the proof is there. Sans also has given Alphys dog food, proof he knows of Endogeny, the amalgamate dog.

(calling papyrus in front of Alphys’ lab without befriending undyne yet)

Using this it is very easy to speculate that Sans wrote entry 14-15, placing him as a scientist in the true lab. We know Sans is into science, based on his owning of physics books and his own laboratory.

Now, entry 17. There are two entry 17s. Entry 17.1, which is written by Alphys. Then entry 17.2, which is undoubtedly recorded by Gaster.

“Recorded you say?” Yes. Recorded. Entry 17.2 is read to us when we find it in the game files, otherwise known as the void. What Gaster is doing in the void is impossible to tell, but there are some things that occur that make us believe he did not stop experimenting.

We’ll get back to his experiments in a moment, first we have to find out “Why didn’t Gaster die from his accident, whatever that may be?”

Because he injected himself with DETERMINATION.

Every monster filled with determination becomes a goopy blob of what it once was. The model we believe to be Gaster inside the gray door looks quite goopy.

This goopy being would of had parts of himself dripping off. Whenever the accident occured and he fell into the core he was erased from the timeline. What happened to these blobs of Gaster?

They tried to grow new Gasters. This follower of Gaster is holding a piece of him, but it is clearly a head. A second Gaster being made. Or at least trying to form itself from the head.

Further support for this comes from a strange being you only encounter once in the game.

Memoryhead. This amalgamate is unique. Its ACT options are very similar to our own. 

This comes from Memoryhead having a small amount of determination, more so than the other amalgamates. Before flowey has control, Memoryhead has it, but of course, these things can barely walk or talk, so it didn’t know how to use it’s powers, but the option was there.

Memoryhead is in the shape of a skull, now where have we seen a disembodied head before?

Now like I mentioned, the amalgamate can’t even talk properly, so it wasn’t able to exactly control the timeline, but at this point whatever cataclysmic event Gaster created by falling into the core had already occur and Flowey was prime and ready to wake up. Once “your best friend” fully understood what was going on, the memoryhead lost the little control of the timeline it had.

Now… was Gaster was injected with determination or at least had interaction with it before/during his accident?, let’s take a look at why he’s responsible for the ability to reset.

Before Gaster’s accident, no human was able to reset. None of the seven human children were able to save or load. Not even Chara, who’s soul is a determination soul, just like Frisk’s. An argument could be made that humans on the surface can’t reset either.

For some reason the RESET/SAVE/LOAD ablity is a thing that only happens in the underground and for some reason is ONLY started to happen from a certain point before all 6 children fell down and on.

And I believe that’s because of the core, the one difference between the surface and the underground. The place Gaster fell into during his accident.

The core powers all of the underground, from the Ruins to Asgore’s garden. The moment a human enters the underground post-accident, they gain the power to reset. If they have enough determination to override whoever was in control before them. This makes it so that only the underground is caught in this save/load/reset paradox.

To sum it all up, Gaster created Flowey and injected himself with determination or got caught into it in his experiment before falling into the core. This caused the underground to enter a time paradox where whoever has the most determination gains control over the timeline.

Do you agree with the theory? Or can you debunk it? I’d love to get some responses.

(Theory by me and veir)

TalesFromYourServer: Diary of a Petty Server: The Meatloaf that Got Away

With great service comes great responsibility.

It comes with the territory, pal. I mean, you’re dealing with one of the most hardcore life-driving forces in the fucking universe here: food. On top of that, you’re tasked with delivering this most sacred of nourishment to people in their most delicate state: hunger.

Hunger makes people do fucking weird shit. Like go to bed without eating and wake up as a different person shit. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hangrey type shit. I’ve seen outbursts of food-related madness that had me cowering in fear, fully expecting a demon made of cockroaches and hellspawn to erupt from a humansuit. I’ve witnessed a man go into apoplectic rage at the discontinuation of his favorite promotion, which led him to rip the offending menu to shreds with an assassin’s coldhearted efficiency. To shreds, you say? Aye, to absolute fucking confetti, which he then promptly stuffed into an innocent raspberry lemonade before bailing.

There’s a certain sort of primal anger that overtakes a person when they’re faced with a culinary crisis. But shit, all the world’s a stage, and all the humans merely players, and I’m about to play your mad hungry ass for a fool. Butter you up like a fucking biscuit and then set the record straight. This is me and you vs. the goddamn world, sir. You’re gonna have the epic experience you came here for if I have to douse hell and burn heaven to do it. That soup is cold? Of COURSE I’ll get you a freshie silly, and I’ll be fucking delighted to do so again in twenty minutes when you next extricate your head from your date’s ass. Your hot tea is too hot? I gotchu sir, I’m bout to beat this boiling water’s ass. There’s a stray piece of okra in your fries? We’re writing the goddamn Governor. And then you tuck them in and give them a binky, and they are none the wiser that you’ve successfully tugged the invisible strings connected to both the heart and wallet. Jedi Master of Bullshit strikes again.

I can deal with any fucker in a bad mood. At some point, you will leave, and you will either be touched by my efforts or utterly unmoved, in which case you were determined to be unhappy anyway. But you will be gone, and I will either chuckle or curse you, and that will be it.

If only Cowboy had gotten angry. That, I could nagivate. This…this was a new beast entirely.

Cowboy is a middle-aged gentleman at Table 122, dressed in a sort of bullrider’s chic. In the couple of minutes I spend with him at our introduction, I learn two things: he loves his horse Whisper, and he really loves our meatloaf. He and Whisper have been driving for six hours to get home from a competition, and for six hours he has impatiently looked forward to his prize. “You don’t understand, ma'am,” he says in a drawl. “I. Love. This. Meatloaf.”

Shit, everyone does, it’s fucking delicious. It’s one of the most popular menu items we have. There are days when I serve no other function than being a fucking choo-choo train for meatloaf plates. The more people love it, the more they order. The more they order, the faster we run out. The faster we run out…yeah, well, we’re still cooking the goddamn things at the same pace. The thing about food, it’s gotta cook.

I’ve already spent a fair portion of the day ruining people’s lives over the lack of meatloaf, and I’m not keen to do so again. I get Cowboy’s drink order, and tell him to think on his sides while I go touch base with the kitchen. I have a come-to-Jesus moment with the grill cook, making him bend down and look me in the fucking eye and tell me we have meatloaf. All’s well. Nine orders left for the night. Breathe a sigh of relief, hit up a sweet tea, scream for the 84th time for someone to bloody PLEASE get the To-Go phone, and make tracks for the table.

Cowboy’s tickled pink once I inform him that yes, sir, you can nom those meaty loaves until Kingdom Fucking Come. He fires off his sides and I get it on the books. Wait there, sir, we’re about to make some magic happen.

I return to the kitchen to enter the order, pleased as fucking punch that one of the lazy shitfritters has finally deemed to answer the phone. They finish up and I whip Table 122 into the system.

The ticket has barely chattered out of the machine when I hear the dreaded shout: “86 Meatloaf for the night!” I fly over to the window, mouth agape in horror…and I will be DAMNED!! Absolutely damned I say! Those lazy no-good ass-sucking To-Go creeps have ordered us out of meatloaf. Nine goddamned To-Go Meatloafs, already posing prettily in a line of black plastic containers. Surely eight of the fuckers could have cut off a tiny slice to assemble a decent hunk of meatloaf!

My panic is palpable. This man has been driving the highway for six fucking hours, with nothing to staunch the loneliness except the thought of our mouth watering meatloaf. I would rather be tied to Whisper, doused in lemon juice, and dragged through a field of cacti than go break the news.

Immediately I begin to think of a way out of this shithole. Do I bat my eyes and flirt up the cook? Jack one of the meatloafs and feign ignorance when questioned? Run shrieking out the back door into the night and never look back? All useless. As useless as the sad plate of okra, mac and cheese, and green beans that sits forlornly in the window, no meatloaf to be found.

Jesus hula-hooping Christ. This shit again.

I’m on the verge of a panic attack when the grill cook calls me over. He’s well aware of my everlasting battle with these pepper and onion stuffed fuckers, and in a fit of gallantry, he has found me a hunk of meatloaf. A smaller hunk than portion size calls for, true, but meatloaf nevertheless. I almost burst into tears at the news, and yes, fucking yes, I’ll comp the whole fucking thing and pay for it myself, as long as this man gets a couple of mouthfuls of his ketchup-coated desire. The cook slides the too-small loaf onto the plate of sides and sells the ticket.

I’m immediately aware of why this meatloaf was not counted in the original tally. I know meatloaf, and this meatloaf is all wrong. Not just small, but shriveled. Dry, crusted along the outside. I could have offered this meatolaf to the Donner Party and they still would have eaten each other. On my honor as a server, I cannot serve this to my guest.

It’s with a heavy heart I journey back to Table 122. Cowboy is smiling pleasantly at me, probably assuming I’m coming to check on his tea or assure him that yes, your meatloaf madness will soon be at an end.

There is no such happy ending.

I have the script memorized by heart. I’m insanely sorry, sir, but due to the fact that this meatloaf is, as you know, the best meatloaf fucking ever, we have unfortunately run out. Normally, there are two routes people take when I inform them that their culinary orgasm is not to be: nonchalant acceptance, or blood-vessel-popping rage.

But this…is new.

The denial sets in first. He stares at me blankly, head cocked quizzically to one side, as though unsure he has heard me correctly. “Are…you joking?”

“No sir,” I reply sadly. “If only Whisper had a few teammates, we could get the Delorean up to 88 miles an hour and go back to just before the To-Go phone rang. Can you believe it? Nine meatloafs spoken for in one To-Go order.”

I hope the half-hearted attempt at humor will break him from the haze, but his face remains impassive. “Nine? Nine whole pieces? In one order?”

“Yes, sir,” I reply, admittedly wrong-footed by the distinct disbelief to his tone. Visions of Whisper galloping alongside a minivan race through my head, and of course in the fantasy Cowboy is victorious, lassoing the whole fucking order through the open window. Reality, it seems, is far more dire.

I gently prod Cowboy for a replacement order; in his catatonic state, he rattles off a robotic backup, and I swear to God and sonny Jesus if we don’t have chicken and dumplings I’m burning this fucker to the ground. Ashes, I tell you!

It’s the fastest ticket we’ve ever sold. I shout down the cooks the moment I step into the back, and you can fuck yourself with the ticket for all I care, B. I’ll ring the bitch in when Cowboy is eating and not a goddamned moment before. Less than a minute later, I present Cowboy with his steaming hot dinner, an extra portion of mac and cheese on the side for good measure. He rouses enough to thank me politely, but shit, if I’d just been fucked by the meatloaf gods in such a cruel fashion, I wouldn’t be up for thanking me. Ten minutes minutes later, he’s to the point of a small smile and nod when I ask if everything tastes good. I top off his tea, leave the check, and sincerely wish him a great night.

I sadly return to the kitchen and join the team packing this thrice-damned meatloaf into the To-Go bags. A beep soon alerts us that the party is here to receive their order, and a coworker grumpily humps the three bags up to the cash stand. I trail out behind him, listlessly sorting menus, when I hear a wordless sound of despair. I glance up and freeze.

Cowboy is standing at the cash register, watching with sad eyes as Coworker pulls out and presents each meatloaf plate to the guest for his approval. Despite the fact that he has already paid, Cowboy waits and watches through the whole debacle. As do I.

As the last meatloaf is approved and paid for, Cowboy nods to the burly man now cradling the three steaming sacks. “Enjoy your dinner,” he says in a pleasant voice.

A god among mortals, this man. My heart cannot take much more…but It must, and as I hesitantly check my credit tips a few moments later, I am overtaken. A $10 tip on an $8 ticket. Over 100%.

Godspeed, Cowboy. Whenever you and Whisper may travel next, I fervently hope that there is meatloaf, more meatloaf than you could have ever dreamed possible.

By: DabblesInDirewolves

Dance with me (Lucifer x Reader)

Hey! I know this is a few days late but I’ve had homework and a test tomorrow. I feel like I failed on the fluff part, sorry about that but I haven’t been feeling much in the “fluffy” mood lately.

Characters: Lucifer, reader

Warnings: none

Words: 928

Originally posted by my-black-dress

Originally posted by dial-666-for-satan

Lucifer was hanging around the bunker, not allowed to do anything now that chuck, aka god, aka his dad, was here. Dean had asked Chuck to give Lucifer a new vessel since he wanted his best friend back, which he agreed after several weeks of Dean complaining. Chuck had looked through Lucifer’s mind and found his favourite vessel, Nick, rebuilt and improved it. You were sitting in your room reading and listening to music when he appeared in your room. You didn’t pay any mind to it, being used to him appearing from nowhere to annoy you.

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Dresden Files Books Rated By The Opening Line
  • Storm Front: "I heard the mailman approach my office door, half an hour earlier than usual. He didn't sound right. His footsteps fell more heavily, jauntily, and he whistled. A new guy. He whistled his way to my office door, then fell silent for a moment. Then he laughed."
  • Easily one of the weakest in the series. 3/10.
  • Fool Moon: "I never used to keep close track of the phases of the moon. So I didn't know that it was one night shy of being full when a young woman sat down across from me in McAnally's pub and asked me to tell her all about something that could get her killed."
  • Nicely ominous. Thanks to this book, I also keep track of the phases of the moon. Helped me catch a local werewombat. You have no idea how hard it is to put one of them down. 8/10.
  • Grave Peril: "There are reasons I hate to drive fast. For one, the Blue Beetle, the mismatched Volkswagen bug that I putter around in, rattles and groans dangerously at anything above sixty miles an hour. For another, I don't get along so well with technology. Anything manufactured after about World War II seems to be susceptible to abrupt malfunction when I get close to it. As a rule, when I drive, I drive very carefully and sensibly. // Tonight was an exception to the rule."
  • Not bad, per se, but not all that good. It takes too long to get to its point, which makes it not as good of a hook. 6/10.
  • Summer Knight: "It rained toads the day the White Council came to town."
  • This one makes me giggle. 8/10. Good job.
  • Death Masks: "Some things just aren't meant to go together. Things like oil and water. Orange juice and toothpaste. // Wizards and television."
  • Very relatable. I, too, am no fan of toothpaste in my orange juice. I used to put toothpaste in my orange juice all the time and had no clue why my orange juice tasted so bad. I mean, who knew? 9/10.
  • Blood Rites: "The building was on fire, and it wasn't my fault."
  • There is no need to explain perfection. 15/10.
  • Dead Beat: "On the whole, we're a murderous race. According to Genesis, it took as few as four people to make the planet too crowded to stand, and the first murder was a fratricide. Genesis says that in a fit of jealous rage, the very first child born to mortal parents, Cain, snapped and popped the first metaphorical cap in another human being. The attack was a bloody, brutal, violent, reprehensible killing. Cain's brother Abel probably never saw it coming. // As I opened the door to my apartment, I was filled with a sense of empathic sympathy and intuitive understanding. // For freaking Cain."
  • One of the all time greats of this series. Lovely illustration of how Dresden feels and catches people up on his relationship with his brother really quick. 10/10.
  • Proven Guilty: "Blood leaves no stain on a Warden's grey cloak. I didn't know that until the day I watched Morgan, second in command of the White Council's Wardens, lift his sword over the kneeling form of a young man guilty of the practice of black magic. The boy, sixteen years old at the most, screamed and ranted in Korean underneath his black hood, his mouth spilling hatred and rage, convinced by his youth and power of his own immortality. He never knew it when the blade came down."
  • Dark. Really sets the tone for the book. Also, I'm, like, totally jealous. Blood stains are the worst. 8/10.
  • White Night: "Many things are not as they seem: The worst things in life never are."
  • I know, right? It's, like, I thought this guy who came into work would be just a normal customer and get his stuff and leave, but, instead, he rants about conspiracy theories and shit when I can't tell him to fuck off. 9/10. Good job.
  • Small Favor: "Winter came early that year; it should have been a tip-off."
  • Not bad, but kinda weak. I mean, did he even consider that maybe winter came early because Global Warming is actually a hoax? I mean, it isn't, but couldn't he at least consider the possibility? 6/10.
  • Turn Coat: "The summer sun was busy broiling the asphalt from Chicago 's streets, the agony in my head had kept me horizontal for half a day, and some idiot was pounding on my apartment door. // I answered it and Morgan, half his face covered in blood, gasped, 'The Wardens are coming. Hide me. Please.'"
  • It's just, like, whaaaaaat? Why's Morgan here? How'd he get all bloody? And, like, he even snuck in some nice foreshadowing with the headache. Really well done. 8/10.
  • Changes: "I answered the phone, and Susan Rodriguez said, 'They've taken our daughter.'"
  • Nice and shocking, making you want to read more, but the last book did a similar shocking opening better. 5/10.
  • Ghost Story: "Life is hard. // Dying's easy."
  • Totally relatable. I, like many others, wish for death because life is too hard. Thanks for making me feel better, Harry. 8/10.
  • Cold Days: "Mab, the Queen of Air and Darkness, monarch of the Winter Court of the Sidhe, has unique ideas regarding physical therapy."
  • One would imagine. I mean, did you hear her TED talk on it? Fascinating stuff. She's an innovator in the field. 7/10.
  • Skin Game: "There was a ticking time bomb inside my head and the one person I trusted to go in and get it out hadn't shown up or spoken to me for more than a year."
  • Don't you just hate it when you have a time bomb in your head? I know I do. But not all of us know bomb defusal experts. We're not all as lucky as you are, Dresden. I had to defuse my time bomb myself. Dick. 4/10.

Bucket List - Chapter 1

This is the first thing ive ever published I hope you like it!

“Have you ever done this before?”

“Bartending? Yes sir, worked at the pub in my old town for a year. This is a letter of recommendation from them,” Emma said, handing over the tattered piece of paper.

“And if I call this number I will be able to talk to the owner of this real and respectable pub?”

“Of course, Mr Shelby. Well; real pub, yes; respectable, less so.”

“Good. Do you drink yourself?”

“Yes sir, but not in excess and not on the job.”

“What about drugs?”

“No sir. Not even for headaches.”

He makes a grunt of acknowledgement. “I know that these are different questions that are fairly…”

“Odd?” She offer.

“Thorough.” He corrects. “We’ve had some issues in the past with the reliability of our bar maids; so you’ll have to excuse me. However, you should note that, with the other businesses I’m involved in, I need people I can trust in my life. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, absolutely sir. And I assure that, if awarded the job, I would be an exemplary employee.”

“I believe you. What is it brought you to Birmingham, Emma?”

“School, Mr Shelby.”

“The nursing school or the secretarial school?”

“Neither, Sir. The business school across town opened 5 spots for women this year and I was accepted.”

“Really? You must be smart, eh? How would you feel about handling the Garrisons books as well; Harry is a great bar keep but not the greatest with numbers.”

“I can absolutely take that on, Mr Shelby!” He chuckles slightly to himself. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no, you just remind me of our old barmaid. Very similar. Anyways, the job is yours if you’d like it!”

“Yes! Thank you very much Mr Shelby, I promise you won’t regret it.” Emma exclaimed, reaching to shake his hand.

“Good. Well, I’ll walk you to the Garrison, give you the lay of the land.” It’s only when Mr. Shelby stood up, that Emma realized how intimidating he really was. Tall and lean, with eyes that looked through your soul, it made Emma nervous for a second before she realized how kind he had been thus far. Mr Shelby walk her through the Shelby Company Ltd’s offices, explaining how finances for the Garrison were handled by a man named Michael Gray. All receipts, books and pay checks were to be signed off by him at the end of the month.

Thomas explained that his company had many different types of business other than just pubs. The Shelby Company was a large and growing corporation according to him. Emma could see the pride in his eyes as well as the ambition.

Mr Shelby shrugged on his overcoat and helped Emma put hers on as they left his offices. A burst of wind surprised Emma as she opened the door to leave the building, making her realize how cold it was. Thomas chuckled a little before putting on his cap, razor blades stitched into the peak.

The streets of Birmingham were very different than her old town, dirtier and darker. It didn’t bother Emma, she was just happy she made it there. She was feeling self conscious of her outfit though. She had worn her nicest dress for the interview and it was embarrassingly bright and fancy; light green stitching heavily contrasting the bleak surroundings. Her shoes were also decimated, covered with mud, coal, and other things she dared not think about. She made a mental note to save up for a new pair of shoes that could withstand all that Birmingham threw at them.

After turning a few corners, Emma saw a sign that read “The Garrison” above a fairly nice looking pub. Mr Shelby led her there through a street that sat next to some sort of factory. Emma couldn’t help but think of her luscious home when she saw the men covered in soot and smoke. Thomas opened the door for her and Emma took a step inside her new world.  

It was lovely and posh inside, much nicer than she expected. There was a private room to her right, but the rest of the bar was open with a place for dancing and a band. Leather booths lined the walls except for one where the actual bar was. It was almost impossibly high, with a mirror behind the shelves of alcohol. It was all nice stuff too, nothing like the things they passed off for ‘top shelf’ at her old pub. There were a few men already in the bar despite it being midday. One man behind the counter and a few other who looked like dawn to dusk drunks. Like most things in Birmingham so far, The Garrison was intimidating.

Many of the men inside had straightened up a bit since they came in; sitting up straighter, talking quieter. The bartender had already poured Mr Shelby a glass of whisky and bowed his head slightly. Thomas put a shilling on the counter before explaining to Harry that Emma was the new bar maid.

Harry had kind eyes and calloused hands, quickly moving to shake Emma’s. “Welcome to the team, I’m sure you’ll do great!”

“Thank you, I’m just here to learn to ropes and work hard.” She smiled back.

Tommy was satisfied with the amount of pleasantries, going on to explain that Emma would help handle the books. “Alright, well, I think you two can figure it out from here. Emma, you can help Harry tonight; Saturday night rush and that. And you two can also figure out a schedule for the next month if you have time. Best of luck to the both of you, I’ll see you tonight.” Then with a gulp of his whiskey and tip of his hat Mr Shelby was gone.

“First lesson, oh young one, anyone with the last name Shelby drinks for free. Understand?” Emma nods vigorously. “Good. There’s some aprons in the back, grab one then we can get started.”

“Aye aye, sir.” Emma salutes before rolling up her sleeves.

It was almost six o’clock on the dot when men started pouring into The Garrison. Harry explained that most men from the factory went home at five, cleaned up and ate with their families before spending the night drinking. Emma poured beer after beer, introduced herself as the “new barmaid” what felt like hundreds of times and it was barely half past nine. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mr Shelby and a few other men make their way into the private room and close the door.

“You best get in there and take their orders; remember the first rule?” Harry says.

“Shelby’s drink free.” Emma replies, walking out from behind the bar. She carefully avoided the drunk and dancing men as she made her way to the door.

Inside, Mr Shelby was sitting with four other men, three in the booth and one on a chair with his back facing Emma. The room smelled like tobacco with a thick cloud of cigarette smoke in the middle. All six were dressed impeccably in lavish, expensive suits.

“Emma! How’s your first night going?” Thomas asks.

“Good, sir, thank you for asking.”

“Glad to hear it. This is my older brother, Arthur,” Tommy points to a skinny man on his left with a large moustache who quickly nods. “My younger brother, John.” John is slightly larger than Arthur. He stands up to quickly shake Emma’s hand. “Our youngest sibling, Finn.” Finn has a bit of a boyish look to him, young and happier than his brothers. He’s obviously nervous at Emma’s presence only waving quickly before ducking his head. "Last but not least, Isaiah.” Tommy introduces.

“Another brother?” Emma jokes due to the obvious fact that none of the Shelby boys could be related to their Isaiah, who was black contrasting the Shelby’s pale pigments. Emma joke earned her a chuckle from the men and a kiss on the hand from Isaiah, who she could already tell was a huge flirt.

“Don’t mind Isaiah, he’s a bit of a whore.” Arthur quips.

“It’s no problem. So, four top shelf Irish whiskeys coming up!“ Emma says, trying to leave as soon as she could.

"Make it five,” Isaiah says.

“Our cousin Michael will be joining us soon,” John explains.

“Five whiskeys coming right up!” Emma spun around and was reaching for the handle when the door swung opened and a large man bumped into her. She quickly mumbled a few apologies, as did the main, before looking up to see someone Emma believed would never return to her life.

It was Henry.

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Accident Prone

Spencer Reid x Reader one shot

Word Count: 2530

Prompt: Can you write something where maybe the reader is super clumsy and trips often, and one day she trips into Morgans arms and Reid gets super jealous??

A/N: Haha, this request was so cute! Thank you anon (: Here’s a little something to tide y’all over if you’re waiting for part 2 of my Harry Potter AU! I am Stressed™ about midterms (college sucks) so it won’t be up until a little later in the week but I shall do my best to have it up soon. I also hit 100 followers! Thank you to everyone who has followed, liked, reblogged, or even just read any of my fics. I love you all!

Summary: Sometimes, being accident prone is just what you need to get things moving in the right direction.

You’ve been a part of the BAU for almost 5 years and in those 5 years, you never failed to impress your team members with your agility, speed, and flawless movement out in the field. You were quick on your feet, good with a gun, and knew just how to grapple with the rowdier unsubs.

Garcia often referred to you as her ‘Little Lioness’ when you were out on a mission, a nickname that had caught on with the rest of the team as well.

However, the moment you stepped off the field, you transformed from an agile lioness into a spindly baby deer. You couldn’t for the life of you figure out why. You were pretty sure that if it weren’t for your exceptional skills in the field, you would’ve been asked to leave the FBI many years ago.

Gravity had made an enemy out of you whenever you weren’t chasing after an unsub and you constantly found yourself stumbling over your own two feet. And stumbling usually lead to knocking over whatever was in close vicinity.

You teammates quickly learned how to adapt to your clumsiness. It was almost as if they could tell exactly when you were going to trip and possibly break something. This saved them from a lot of broken coffee mugs and saved you from any tripping-related injury.

Their sixth sense, though it helped, couldn’t save you from everything though.

“Ouch!” You glared down Emily’s desk, rubbing the spot on your leg where it had collided with the sharp corner of the desk. She made a sympathetic tutting noise.

“That’s definitely gonna bruise. Want some ice?” she asked, already halfway out of her chair.

“It’s fine, it’s fine… Not worth getting an ice pack just for this little thing.” You waved a hand dismissively, nearly sending her mug tumbling to the ground. Thankfully, her quick reflexes prevented any major spillage. You grinned sheepishly at the brunette, turning to go back to the safety of your own desk.

But before you could make it, you - surprise, surprise - tripped over your own feet, bumping into into the desk closest to you. You almost knocked a stack of files onto the ground, but the desk’s inhabitant reached out just in time, steadying the stack with one hand and clamping onto your wrist with the other.

“Whoops, sorry ‘bout that. Thanks, Spencer.” You smiled gratefully at the brown-haired man, patting the hand over your wrist in thanks. He blushed slightly at the contact and you felt the butterflies in your stomach flutter a little extra as you continued your walk to your desk.

Yes, the entire team helped you out whenever your clumsiness got the best of you, but something about Spencer Reid made it a little more special every time he was the one to do so.

You found it very hard not to develop a crush on the young genius over the years.

His messy hair practically begged to be played with. His mannerisms and constant rambling were endlessly endearing. He was a very loyal team member. He was even great with kids. Plus, his aesthetically pleasing facial structure was quite easy on the eyes.

The two of you had always straddled the line between friendship and something more. You were very close friends, but sometimes when you were hanging out outside of work just the two of you, maybe bundled up on the couch watching movies or reading books at the park or out for coffee, you just wanted to grab his face and kiss him right then and there.

(And then maybe do a lot more than just kissing. The boy had long fingers and you had a wicked imagination.)

You thought - hoped - you had seen him giving you the same longing glances, but it just never really went beyond friendly cheek kisses and ‘just-as-friends’ dates.

You settled into your desk with a heavy sigh, attracting Penelope’s attention as she walked into the bullpen. All you saw was a pink and purple blur before you were wrapped up in the technical analyst’s arms.

“What ails you, my wobbly little Bambi? Did you get hurt again?” she asked in a teasing tone. You made a face at Spencer, who was watching the two of you with an amused smirk.

“I’m a lioness, Pen, a lioness. Here me roar,” you deadpanned, wriggling out of her embrace. She let out a laugh.

“Of course you are, Y/N… Now c’mon, help me find those papers you were looking for. We’re going to have to go old school and actually look through boxes in the file room.” She pouted at the fact her precious computers wouldn’t be able to help her for once. “We have to deal with… hard-copies,” she said dramatically.

You shook your head amusedly, following the blonde out of the BAU bullpen.

“Wait, Y/N!”

You turned back abruptly at Spencer’s call, nearly plowing down a passing intern.

“We still on for lunch?” he asked, laugh evident in his voice as he watched you apologize profusely to the poor intern. The young brunette woman waved off your apology and you switched your attention onto the young doctor.

“It’s a date,” you said casually. “I’ll come back to get you when I’m ready to go.”

You smiled at his excitement over the new cafe you were going to try out, absentmindedly watching as he turned back to his paperwork. You shook yourself out of your Spencer-induced stupor, hoping no one noticed your staring, and hurried to catch up with Garcia.

“Ooooh finally going on a date with our resident genius?” Penelope asked, waggling her eyebrows suggestively, earning her an eye roll.

“You know it’s not a date-date, Pen. It’s a… ‘Spencer and me’-date,” you found yourself explaining for the hundredth time.

“Riiiight.” She nodded, voice tinged with doubt. “Oh come on, Y/N! I know you two are in love!”

You pointedly ignored her as you rounded the corner into the file room. You immediately started sorting through the nearest box, blocking out Garcia’s little love monologue.

“- always takes you out for dinner. You practically live at his apartment, for crying out loud! You know, JJ told me that Henry thinks the two of you are married ‘just like his mommy and daddy’… God, you two are so cute! I totally think -”

“Penelope. Please… Just help me look for this file, okay?”

“Fine,” Garcia said with a resigned sigh, “but this is going to be discussed on our next girls’ night, you hear me?”

Pushing a sleeping elephant up a hill was easier than trying to say no to a determined Penelope Garcia, so you simply conceded, shooing her away to do her own file digging.

After skimming through a couple of boxes, you decided to start looking at the boxes up on the shelves. You made your way towards the stepladder by the wall.

“Um Y/N, are you going to be using that?”

“Yeah, why?” You set up the ladder and just as you were about to climb Garcia called out your name. “What?” you asked, pausing your ascent. She bit her lip worriedly.

“Mmm, you plus heights plus shelves full of heavy boxes that can potentially fall and crush you… You do the math.”

“Seriously? Oh my god, it’s a stepladder, Garcia. It’s not even a real ladder. I’m not that accident-prone.”

“You trip on air, Y/N! That’s as accident-prone as it gets.” She held up her hand, silencing your protests. “Nuh-uh. I am going to get Morgan and he’s going to use those sexy muscles of his to do the heavy lifting for us, okay? No need to put yourself in harm’s way.”

You stayed in your spot until she left the room. Admittedly, you had a bit more accidents than the average human being, but you could definitely find a set of files by yourself without endangering your life. You caught bad guys for a living, using a mini-ladder to find a couple of papers was a piece of cake compared to that.

“Aha!” After a couple of minutes, your search was a success. You managed to find the papers and not get hurt. Well… except for two paper cuts, but no one had to know about those. Your inner celebration was cut off by a knock on the door.

“Hey mama, Garcia said something about heavy boxes, ladders, and the possibility of a broken neck so I came as fast as I could,” Derek said, coming into the file room. “Aaand I see what she means.”

You turned to stick your tongue out at him.

“Well, you can tell Garcia to suck it, ‘cause I found the files I was looking for and used this ladder without any acci- Woah!

You must’ve waved those file papers with a bit too much enthusiasm because you suddenly found yourself toppling off of the ladder. You felt a rush of relief at the feeling of landing in a pair of arms, bridal style, instead of head first on the ground. Derek’s chest rumbled with laughter.

“What was that you were saying?” he teased, earning himself a slap on the shoulder when he bounced you like one would do while holding an infant.

“Shut up, Morgan,” you said grumpily.

“Hey, you’re lucky I was here to catch you.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, resting your head on his shoulder and batting your eyelashes.

“Oh Derek, thank heavens you were here! My hero!” The two of you fell into a fit of laughter at your antics.

“What’s going on here?”

Derek and you froze at the sharp tone.

You turned your head towards the door, revealing a rigid Spencer, looking at the two of you with obvious displeasure. You knew this looked how this could be misconstrued - Derek holding you in his arms and you resting your head onto his shoulder, smiles from your previous laughter still on your faces.

Derek hastily set you on the ground, clearing his throat. All you could do was carefully watch Spencer’s reaction.

“Kid…” Morgan finally said, holding up a placating hand out to your brown-haired colleague. You felt your heart twinge a little when Reid took a tiny step back at the gesture.

Before you could even say anything, he was out the door, leaving with nothing but a mumbled “gotta go” thrown over his shoulder.

The silence he left behind was soon broken by the click-clack of Garcia’s high heels as she entered the file room once more.

“Um, what did I miss?”

Her question spurred you into action. You pushed your files into Morgan’s hands and wordlessly took off to follow Spencer. You just caught a flash of his purple cardigan disappearing around the corner.

“Spencer, wait!” you called out, speeding up your steps to catch up with him. Curse that man and his incredibly long legs. “Spencer!” You manage to grab onto the back of his cardigan, pulling him to a stop in the middle of the hallway.

“Aren’t we going to lunch together?” you asked, trying to break through his sudden icy demeanor.

“What? You aren’t too busy laying in Morgan’s stupid biceps of steel and laughing at one of his stupid jokes and resting your head on his stupid muscular shoulder? If I had known you and Morgan were…”

You tuned out his rambling, pushing him into the nearest empty office. If he thought there was something going on between you and Derek, then what the hell did he think was going on between himself and you?

You stare incredulously at your colleague, who hadn’t even stopped to take a breath in the midst of his ramble, hands flailing about. You knew just how worked up he was when he used hand gestures to emphasis his often lengthy rants.

“Spencer Reid, are you jealous?” you managed to squeeze in between his own words. “Are you seriously jealous of Morgan?”  He turned to you with disbelief written all over his face.

“Of course I’m jealous of Morgan! He’s - he’s Derek Morgan!” he spluttered. You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t want a Derek Morgan, you walnut! I want you!” You sighed, cheeks burning at your blatant confession. “All I want is you, Spence. I thought you - I thought we were, you know, like a thing? Did I interpret everything wrong? Aren’t we -”


You immediately recoiled, thinking that this was the moment he was rejecting you. He must’ve sensed the hurt in your eyes, because he immediately started backpedalling.

“Wait! Not ‘no’ like to us! ‘No’ to the - I - we’re - I… I like you, Y/N. As much as that makes me sound like some fifth grader confessing a crush, I really, really like you.”

It had finally happened. All the ambiguity had been wiped away. Here you were, emotions laid on the table. There was only one way you could think of replying.

“Y/N? Aren’t you going to say anythi-”

Grabbing onto the front of his sweater, you pressed your lips against his, pouring your emotions out into this one kiss. You jumped when Spencer’s hands brushed against the curve of your ass. He jolted away from you, fearing he had gone too far.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to touch your… I-it was an accident!”

He was caught off guard by the smirk on your face. You used this to your advantage, pushing him into the desk chair and promptly settling yourself into his lap. His hands hovered hesitantly over you sides before you pushed them to press against where they had brushed earlier.

You connected your lips once again, tugging at his hair to spur him into action. He caught the hint, guiding your hips against his. As you trailed your kisses down to his neck, he groaned out your name like a prayer.

“Dr. Reid,” you whispered, biting down on his sensitive pulse point and eliciting another groan from his lips, “this is one accident I don’t mind.”

Back in the file room…

“Told you it would work. Didn’t I say a little jealousy was all they needed?”

“Yeah, yeah but what if she had fallen before I got there? Your plan wasn’t completely foolproof, baby girl.”

“You don’t have to undermine my matchmaking skills, you know.”


“It all worked out didn’t it? I bet you $10 they’re making out in a conference room right now.”


“Oh come on, Chocolate Thunder, indulge me a little.”

“… I bet you $20 they’re in an old office.”

“Now that’s more like it.”

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy!


sierraseas  asked:

1. I have this idea bouncing around in my head & I wanted to get a few opinions on it. Okay So Undertale as well as AUs mostly operate under the assumption that humans ether do not have or can not wield magic right? The only exceptions are few stories with it just being there. Like BAM MAGES ARE BACK OR NEVER LEFT! But that's not true or really right? Like my mother is a witch. Well Wiccan but ya she practices The Craft. I grew up with magic being a very real thing (i'll explain that in a min)

Oooh this is interesting! Let’s dissect this. 

We do know that humans are capable of magic in Undertale. In the monster history signs throughout Waterfall, one of them mentioned that it took 7 human mages to erect the barrier and keep the monsters trapped. So yes, humans are entirely possible of magic, but let’s look at the timelines. From the intro, based off the human’s clothes and the choice of weapons, it looks like the monsters moving to Underground, was not a recent event. 

If you take look at the human side, the main human is using a sword and wearing a cape. In the background, there are other humans wielding spears and carrying torches, so this is maybe around the early AD. Some people say it could be the medieval times, but I disagree and I’ll explain why in a minute. So the monsters forced into the Underground and we know what happens, so let’s look at the humans. 

We know that when Frisk falls, it’s around 201X and it’s definitely modern times with its reference to anime, cell phones, and social media. Plus, during the credit scenes, Papyrus and Sans are seen traveling down a highway in their car and bike (?). So do these modern humans have magic? Yes and no.

Here’s my theory. Modern humans have the potential for magic, and for those who have it (like the asker’s mother) it’s very weak compared to the original human mages. Why? There are several historical events that lead to the genocide of many people and it’s entirely possible that the humans who practice magic could be a part of it. During the medieval times, humans had the witch hunt based on religious beliefs like Christianity. Magic was seen as a Pagan form of worship and they were immediately prosecuted. Now, why would humans kill the people that won the war and “saved” their race? Remember, it’s a theory that the barrier was put up early AD. Early AD to medieval times is a long time and people could’ve simply lost appreciation of it since they didn’t live through it or just forgot. A part of the witch hunts were to burn any kind of artifacts that relate to the practice of magic, since it was seen as devil worship. With the burning of these magical books, it started the decline of magic. Because of the push for the belief of one God (crusades, religious persecutions, etc), the practice of magic start to die out. 

Then after the witch hunts, humans had the Scientific Revolution. With new inventions, study of chemistry, physics, biology, psychology, and astronomy,  this weakened the belief of magic and for some, God himself (though that was considered blaspheme and blasphemers were killed or had their lives destroyed like Galileo) But with these scientific advancements, there was no need for magic and the belief of it was considered to be “old fashioned”. 

There are probably many other events throughout history (genocides, persecution of gypsies, the story of magic becoming nothing more than a child’s tale), but all those events weakened human magic. Jumping to modern times, I believe, like you said, that everyone has the potential for magic, but I wouldn’t necessarily say that it’s a block. Yes, that could be a factor, but I think the main reason is that there’s simply no more knowledge of it. For example, I have the potential and the ability to make a pie. I believe that I can bake a pie and that it will be good, but potential and belief aren’t enough. If I don’t know how to bake a pie, then that’s never going to happen, or maybe I would be able to do it, it just won’t be as good (strong) it can be in it’s original form, just like how the very scarce practicers of magic won’t be like the original human mages. 

So yes, all humans are capable of magic, and maybe it can be taught again once the monsters are released, but I doubt that Asgore would allow that to happen, just in case that the humans rise up again and create another barrier. It would be interesting to see how after, thousands of years of decline magic to the point where it’s almost nonexistent, how would the Surface change with that sudden return of magic. 

anonymous asked:

A scenario of dazai's s/o just suddenly fainting out of exhaustion when she got home and dazai is there freaking out about it cuz this was not what he expected when he was just waiting for her to come home and was planning a nice and romantic evening together???

I apologize for how long this took. I’m very slowly catching up with all the scenarios I have T_T

Dazai was a prideful man. This fact was widely known to anyone who had spent a remotely decent amount of time with him, and yet he felt himself frowning vehemently as he stared at his collection of hard work. The lanky detective sighed and combed his fingers through the few tangled locks hanging against his neck. Everything seemed perfect on paper but what the hell was he missing? Romance was a simple act he’d perfected even when he was only doing it out of sheer amusement or to annoy Chuuya by gaining a woman’s attention that Chuuya had his eyes on. Of course true romance was no different than feigned interest except the gigantic, alarmingly serious aspect that this time it meant something.

He’d noticed the inky bags forming beneath your usually bright eyes and the way you basically rolled like a log out of bed in the morning. Conversations were often cut short by a massive yawns and he’d been going to be alone more often than he’d liked. That’s why on this beautiful fall day—with the perfect weather—he’d gathered up all the things he needed to make a nice romantic evening for the two of you before you died from a stress related heart attack. Frowning Dazai tapped his forefinger against his sharp chin and glanced at the items scattered along the table. A giant picnic basket loaded with goodies, wine, a bit of dessert? Check. Soft pleated blanket big enough for both of you to lie beneath and snuggle while looking at clouds? Check. Glasses, flatware, plates, and everything in between? Fucking check.

“Gaahhhh.” Dazai’s exasperated groans echo in the small room as the young man’s patience with his own incompetence thinned with each passing second.

Rutting his teeth together Dazai spun on his heels and paced the room in circles with his chin cupped between his thumb and forefinger. There were lists upon lists organized in his mind that specifically pertained to you. Your likes, dislikes, adorable quirks, buttons he loved to push, buttons he should not push, and the like. Yet he could not place his finger on the one particular thing you’d asked him to do for you a few weeks ago before the work had begun piling on. He felt like shit now because originally he’d been busy with his own work and for once he was not in a position where he could put it off. One thing he adored about you was your patience and understanding for his somewhat unethical ways of working—both alone and with others—but you never complained. You trusted him and let him do what he needed until he came home ready for a cuddle session and some food.


As if a forgotten switch had been flipped the holy grail of lights pinged in his brain as he rushed towards the bookcase in the living room. Thumbing rapidly through stacks of semi-organized paperbacks he found your favorite wedged between one of the books he’d been reading and a new one you’d bought but never got around to opening. A smile as wide as the sea spread across his peach tinted lips as he stuffed the book in his coat pocket and checked the clock. Nearly four pm which meant you’d be taking a little break near the park where you both used to sit and talk until two in the morning after the bars closed. With a spring in his step Dazai yanked the basket from the table and threw the blanket over his shoulder; a quiet whistle slipping from his mouth happily as he walked towards the door. Mid step he froze as the lock turned to the right.

“___-chan? You’re home early!” Dazai calls while quickly shoving the basket and blanket behind the couch before the door opened fully. “My love! I missed you so much!”

Coming home to Dazai was better than coming home to a room full of sunshine and gold. Hell he could probably get you a room of gold if you asked, but his sweet voice and warm hug was enough. You felt yourself becoming less affectionate lately—though not on purpose—but you’d been drowning in work for the better half of the month and you’d begun to feel isolated even with Dazai in the next room. Somehow by the grace of god your boss let you leave early for once today and you damn well needed it too. Leaning your palms on his chest you crane your head upward. His lips twist into a soft smile as he descends towards you, eager to feel your lips on his.

Then everything went black.

“____! ____! “

The whole world feels tilted. Dazai’s voice is a bit heightened and there’s a dull ache in the back of your head. There’s shuffling and the abrupt feeling of weightlessness. Dizzily you push your eyes open hoping to solve a bit of confusion.

“Whaa–?” You stutter as Dazai lays you down on the bed softly.

“Shhh love,” he hums while folding a damp towel and placing it on your forehead. “You’re exhausted and a bit dehydrated. You’re overworking yourself so stay her a minute while I go get you a water bottle and a snack okay?”  

“But..I ah” you wince as the cold water trickles down your temple, “I wanted to spend time with you Osamu. At least get in bed? Please?”

Smiling widely Dazai places a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose then to your lips, pausing a bit to nibble on the bottom one before he pulls back. Reading Dazai’s facial expression is tougher than one would think. His control and intricate thought behind every look in his eye or turn of his lip sets up a hundred walls to break through, but over time you’d become an expert at finding hidden keyholes unlocking what he was truly feeling. His eyes—so vibrant beneath the sunlight fanning in through the window—were full of worry despite their cheerful presence. Then a flicker, something so fragmentally obscure nobody would know it happened unless they’d really been studying him, sent your stomach up to your throat.

He was planning something.


The exhaustion did little to curve the warning in your tone; however Dazai merely turned his head and smirked a bit. A dangerous smirk—the only kind he had.

“___, my sweet, beautiful girl I’ll be in bed in a few! I just need to have a few words with someone then I am all yours!”

Despite all the warning flares exploding in your head you watched your boyfriend in silence as he walked through the door with the phone to his ear. Realizing there would be no point in arguing you gripped the pillow and snuggled into it as exhaustion overtook you once more.

The next few days were deemed a ‘recovery retreat’ by Dazai and somehow—though you didn’t even want to ask—your boss had no problem with your spur of the moment paid vacation. 

cabalbrothers  asked:

Might I inquire to know what tfc is, exactly? What does it stand for? I presume it's a book series, is it not? It seems decent, so I figured I'd ask.


tfc is short for the foxhole court, which is both, an alternative name for the all for the game series by nora sakavic and the title of the first book.
it centers around neil, the son, the puppy (i love neil very much) and his freshmen year with the palmetto state university’s foxes. the foxes are a team that is unusual in two aspects:

A) they play a sport called exy, something that the author herself came up with and that my lazy ass likes to explain as “lacrosse. just…better.” all you need to know (for now) is that it can be pretty violent, is co-ed and neil loves it very much.

B) their coach, david wymack (please adopt me), chooses only players for his line-up who come from “questionable” backgrounds. (i.e. abuse, drugs, complicated family drama etc.). therefore they are a fractured mess with no real image of team spirit. (hence great chance for C H A R A C T E R D E V E L O P M E N T )

you would think this is enough to make up a pretty decent bookseries with angsty athletes and their everyday drama but BEHOLD. because besides characters that take this sport seriously in levels ranging from me and any sport to oliver wood and quidditch the foxhole court is served with a side of mafia, death, and pain. i don’t want to take away too much hence my lack of explanation but let’s just say when i started the series i expected none of this darkness, i died about 29292 deaths and i loved every second of it.

what really makes this for me (besides its intriguing plot ofc) are all of the characters. and when i say all of them i mean literally all of them. usually you’ll find series with secondary characters that are just there to fill plotholes, never once important again. you don’t waste a second thought on them usually. then there’s this gem, where all of them have a layer to their personality that gets you interested in them, not a single one seems to be unnecessary and i love. every. part. of it. since talking about all of those lovely minors would take weeks probably i’ll settle on the mains right now, my children, my family, the foxes.
(i’ll try to keep this as spoilerfree as possible, but still, there could be some i didn’t recognize as such. there definitely are.)

they can be devided into two groups:


Andrew Minyard

  •  u kno those moments while reading where the character is being a dick throughout all of ut but you still think “yup, i’ll get attached to you” 
  •  that’s it 
  •  ‘sociopath’ , on drugs that cheat on all of his emotions
  •  can be pretty scary 
  •  has knives -> ready to cut a bitch at any time of day and will do so 
  •  also very protective and the mom friend

Aaron Minyard 

  • Andrew’s twin 
  •  angry about all the things. constantly.
  •  he may seem like he doesn’t care. it’s because he doesn’t. (this is what canon says but my heart says that SOMEWHERE,,,,DEEP DOWN,,,,,) 
  •  how did i grow so fond of this grumpy midget (the twins are tiny. like. tiny.)

Nicky Hemmick

  •  the gay cousin 
  •  no srsly, he’s the twins cousin and he’s gay
  •  half mexican 
  •  if this was a supernatural thing nicky would be the friend of the main character without special powers but a hell lotta sarcasm 
  •  has a boyfriend in germany 
  •  can talk for hours where is the off-button

Kevin Day

  • you know how i talked about oliver wood and quidditch? 
  •  kevin is the oliver wood of exy 
  •  “coach you can’t cancEL EXY” “kevin there are people dying” 
  •  insensitivity, arrogance and determination all list kevin in their definitions but he can pull it off and still remain your child 
  •  just watch him take over your heart bc he will


Dan Wilds

  • used to be a stripper 
  • is now captain of the foxes 
  •  also my mom 
  •  idk man when i read it dan was just so #relatable to me??? 
  •  will fight.

Matt Boyd

  •  (i keep forgetting but he is a) rich kid from nyc 
  •  a good bro 
  •  literally so unproblematic??? 
  •  absolutely in love with dan 
  •  the parents those two

Allison Reynolds

  •  please step on my face 
  •  has money and you won’t forget it 
  •  raging feminist 
  •  couldve enherited her parents business but chose exy 
  •  did i mention STEP ON MY FACE

Seth Gordon

  •  hates everyone 
  •  except allison sometimes 
  •  matts and neils roomie 
  •  weird sleeping habits 
  •  grumpy cat

Renee Walker

  •  the christian sweetheart 
  •  can and will fight. politely tho. 
  •  “who doesn’t like renee???!!!!!” (-nicky) 
  •  she literally baked cookies for the team 

i love all of those children so so so much. so. much.
as well as this series. i just finished it today so have some general (bait) information
(this is just all my thoughts in no particular order)

- tackles certain subjects that are usually romanticised/ written in an unsatisfactory matter really well (such as rape, selfharm, abuse etc) ((putting a trigger-warning here though, it can be really dark, like i mentioned!!))

- some pretty decent queer representation

- neil was confirmed demisexual so my ace heart sings

- you can literally not. stop. reading.

- everyone speaks like 5 languages??? they keep switching??????(fairly often they soeak german and it was pretty fun for me to translate it in my head and see what it would sound like)

- i feel like a not small amount of twenty one pilots songs would fit this series pretty well but im not into top enough to confirm 100%

- the author has a tumblr with loads of usefull background info (since she’s focusing on a new series this year there probably won’t be many additions but tbh there is so much already there isn’t even anything to complain about???)

- you know how ever series has that one/handful of character(s) that make you want to scream out because theY  HAD ENOUGH AND THEY DONT DESERVE THIS SHIT JUST GIVE THEM A BREAK? its all of them in this book. i can tell you who wont get a break and its YOU

- and last but not least the first book is FREE on amazon and smashwords! the other two (the raven king, the king’s men) are a dollar each!! join hell now for 2 $ !!!!

im publishing this because all of my followers should need to get following message out of this incoherent pile of thoughts:


I’m so sorry, I really had to write down something, those two are so precious!

“I’m sorry Adrien, your father can’t see you this afternoon. I’ve been previously instructed by Monsieur Agreste to escort you to this specific exhibition”

Adrien wasn’t particularly surprised, he was used to being dumped. Nevertheless, he felt sad. The evening before his father showed up at dinner so he caught the opportunity to ask him directly how his day has been and what was he up to the following afternoon, not forgetting to mention that he was completely free, hoping that he would take the hint and would be able to find some spare time to spend with his son. Incredibly, Gabriel Agreste had a blank spot in his agenda so Adrien took the initiative and invited him to the new renaissance exhibition at the museum. Even more incredibly, he agreed. The boy was so happy; finally, he could spend some time with his father!

And then Natalie, his carer and Monsieur Agreste secretary, crashed his expectations for the afternoon. He’d even cancelled his plans with Nino so he could have been with his father for a couple of hours!

“Never mind, I have to do some homework. Thank you anyway, Natalie”

He smiled to her, politely, heading toward his bedroom miserably.

Lying down on his bed, face buried in the pillow, Adrien thought that that was one of the lowest moment in his relationship with his father. Not because of his rejection, that Adrian could handle, but because he accepted to spend some time with him, face to face, and then deliberately took some other appointment just so he could not being around his son.

“He must hate me, Plagg…”

The little black kwami hoovered over his head, looking for something to say that could cheer his friend up.

“You know he doesn’t hate you! He’s just very busy, and that is a positive thing because now you can go jumping over some roofs and chimneys with me! You definitely need some fresh air!”

“At least he tried” Adrien sighted.


Being Chat Noir was the best thing that could ever possibly happen to Adrien; jumping from one chimney to another, feeling completely free, that was his real life. Behind the mask, he was his true self. Chat Noir could live his life as he pleased, no one could tell him what to do, except for his Lady, whom he was always eager to oblige.

Adrien reached the top of the Eiffel Tower, waving at some tourists that did not know about the Parisian superhero and almost fainted at his sight during the climb. That was his favourite spot of all Paris, he could see all of his stunning city, with all of its lights, its history and its strange people. Every now and then, during his patrol, Chat Noir wondered why he had been chosen for this and how could he have been so lucky. From a corner of his mind, Plagg would just say it was his destiny to protect those people and everything they live for. That consciousness made him smile every time, feeling at peace with himself.

Suddenly, an explosion echoed through the streets. Adrien detected the source of the sound and jumped off the tower, ready to fight. The river was completely frozen, two of Paris’s bridges surrounded by iceberg that threatened their stability and one ice-cream shop devastated from the detonation. In front of the burning signboard stood an akumatized man, laughing in his white robes and cone hat.

“Dear oh dearie, does no one ever told you that winter starts on the 21st of December? Please, do not tell me you are one of those obsessed with that series with the wolves and the dragons! We’re in Paris, we do not need a king!”

Adrien dodged an icy dagger and run at the laughing man with his staff drawn, aiming for his legs. He managed to off balance his opponent right on time, for Ladybug darted at his side in that exact moment and kicked off the crazy-ice-cream man’s cone hat, preventing any further temperature drops.

“Thanks Chat, you waited for me!”

“As always, my Lady, I couldn’t let it go!”

The superheroine crashed the hat, freed the akuma and in a matter of instants the white butterfly flew away and everything went back to normal in a flash of red light. She was laughing, and Adrien wished to stay with her forever, but his ring was running out of energy and he needed to bolt home.

“M’Lady, I’m afraid I must bid thee farewell, my precious lucky charm!”

He kissed her hand before leaving. He released the transformation right around the corner, catching an exhausted Plagg on his fingers. The black kwami did a great job and Adrien wanted to thank him properly, so he headed toward one of the finest shops in the city to buy some camembert just for him.


On his way home (Plagg sleeping in his pocket, satisfied), the young man daydreamed about his companion, Ladybug. They have known each other for years now and everyday he felt his feelings for her growing stronger and stronger. After every battle, every victory and every moment spent together, his attachment intensified. She was the most important person in the world to him. He never hesitated risking his own life to protect hers, and so did she. They were connected, Adrien knew that and he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Literally a couple of meters away from his entrance door, someone bumped into him, almost making him lose his balance. It was Marinette, his classmate and acquainted with Ladybug. She did lose her balance and fell, spreading pencils all over the sidewalk.

“Marinette! Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

He took her hand and helped her standing up on her own legs. Adrien could tell that she was sored but before he could say anything else, she became as red as a tomato and run off clumsily, completely forgetting everything on the sidewalk.

“What a strange little thing she is”

Observed Plagg, curious.

Adrien started to gather what she had left behind, noticing some complex artistic designs with really intricate details among the pencils and books. Luckily, nothing that was related to school.

It was clear that Marinette didn’t like him, every time they spoke, even briefly, she didn’t breathe a word and fled away from him as soon as possible. He really wanted to be friends with her, since she was such a nice mademoiselle. Maybe she’s shy, the boy thought at first, but with everyone else she would never shut up. Even with Chat Noir she was completely different: spontaneous, lovely, confident, funny, brave…

Maybe it would be the superhero to deliver those things that evening.

Part 6: Unexpected Encounter

(Part 1), (Part 2), (Part 3), (Part 4), (Part 5)

Pairing: Theo x Reader

Summary: Y/N tries her best to avoid Theo after they encounter that night. However that proves to be difficult considering Theo won’t let you forget. There’s an attraction between the both of you, there’s no denying that. But you are set on the idea that what happened that night would never happen again, and this attraction towards Theo is dangerous. Can Theo convince you otherwise? Or will you be the one girl that Theo can’t have?

Originally posted by beautifuloblivions

Side Note: Here’s Part 6! I hope you enjoy/like the little Issac and Y/N dynamic that’s shown here. Theo will be in the next part. :)

Second day of senior year things weren’t getting any easier. You were currently standing next to your locker and staring down the hallway. People passing by probably wondered what you were staring at, especially considering there wasn’t anything to look at. However for you it wasn’t about looking at anything in particular, it was about remembering. Remembering the first time you saw Issac.


A year ago you found out about the supernatural presences in Beacon Hills. Scott filled you in when you were getting patched up because an animal attacked you. Being so curious about the events that happened and your stubborn nature not letting things go, you demanded Scott to tell you what was really going on. Eventually he let you in on the secret.

You were standing at your locker with Stiles beside you, “Who’s that” turning around asking Stiles. He turned around to get a better look at who you were referring too.

“That’s Issac Lahey, he got turned into a werewolf by Derek Hale, Scott told you about Derek right? You nodded, Eventually Issac switched his allegiance as one would put it and now Scott’s his alpha.”

Stiles kept rambling on and on but at this point you zoned out and had your eyes locked on Issac, he was walking down the hallway, books in hand while chatting very intensity with Scott. To say you weren’t more curious about him would be an understatement. That day in the school hallway was the day you wouldn’t ever forget.

Present Day

"Y/N are you even listening to me”? asked Liam

You snapped out of your daydream and turned to Liam, “I’m sorry Liam what did you say?”

“I said that Issac is looking for you, he asked me to tell you when I saw you that he wanted you to meet him on the lacrosse field. Are you sure you’re okay? Because Scott said you hit your head pretty hard the other night when you got attacked”

“I’m fine Liam, all that’s left is a minor headache. Thanks for delivering the message, I’ll see you later”. You closed your locker and headed out towards the lacrosse field to find Issac.

You saw Issac sitting on the bleachers looking out towards the field. He noticed you coming and had a wide smile plastered on his face. “We could of met anywhere in the school and you choose the lacrosse field?”, you asked while taking Issac’s hand which was extended to help you climb along the bleachers to sit down where he was.

“Well I did use to play lacrosse” he said making sure that you wouldn’t fall as you were taken a sit next to him

“Feeling a little nostalgic are we?” you asked placing your bag next to you and turning to Issac

“Something like that, it’s been a while”

“Are you talking about lacrosse or something else?” you asked because you really wanted to know what he was referring too.

“Lacrosse, school, being in Scott’s pack….seeing you” he said while playing with his hands, not sure whether to make eye contact with you.

You sat there not sure what to say, Issac was gone a long time and you missed him terribly. But now he was here, however the timing wasn’t right…you decided to not say anything relating to what he said and instead you asked, “So why did you want to meet me”

“Well I was thinking we could spend the day together?”

“You want me to skip school?” you asked baffled.

“Come on we haven’t spent much time together since I got back, and the only time we did spend together resulted in you getting hurt

“Issac you do realize I haven’t skipped one day of school in my entire life”

“Please” Issac turned to you and gave you his ridiculous cute puppy dog eyes, fully aware that you couldn’t say no when he pleaded.

“Fine but only because you’re asking”, you said while grabbing your bag and standing up.

Issac smiled and you too started making your way to the parking lot.

“Where are we going?” you asked Issac before handing him the keys to your car so he could drive.

“That my love is a surprise” he said with a cheeky smile across his face.

You laughed and got in the car. For once you didn’t have to worry about anything, that’s what drew you to Issac in the first place he always made your worries and problems go away. You weren’t stressed, you were happy whenever your with him. And that was exactly what you needed right now, no stress and to just simply be happy.

You weren’t sure what your mum was going to say when or if she found out that you skipped school. But being in the car with Issac that thought quickly disappeared from your mind, “Okay Issac are you going to tell me where we are going?”

“We’re nearly there just a few more minutes” Issac said while focusing on the road ahead.

You faced the side window and watched as the scenery went past, you heard the car indicator and looked ahead and as soon as the car halted you knew exactly where Issac had taken you. Grabbing your coat and stepping out of the car into the fresh, cool air you couldn’t believe that you hadn’t come to this place earlier. Everything in your life was hectic and you didn’t have a chance to revisit the one place that felt safe.

“So you remember where we are?” Issac asked you.

“How can I forget” you responded back.


Everything had become extremely hectic once Scott told you about the supernatural, your whole world went into spinning mode and today was no exception. You felt like today of all days was the worst of all, so much happened and you didn’t know how to deal with it…let alone how Scott could deal with it all. Several werewolf attacks along with an unknown threat coming, things just were becoming too much. You were currently in your bedroom changing into a new shirt since the one you were wearing was completely torn, thanks to once again being attacked by a crazy werewolf. You heard a knocking side coming from the other side and threw your old shirt in the bin, before walking over to open it. Issac was standing on the other side and you knew why he was here, he was here to make sure you were okay.

“I’m okay Issac, nothing that I hasn’t happened to me before” you said while trying to keep your voice steady.

Issac just simply wrapped his arms around you, and you broke down. Feeling like a fool for not having it together you apologized to Issac for him having to see you like this. “Hey don’t apologize, we all have our breaking points. How about we go for a drive? I want to show you something”. You nodded and followed Issac out to the car.

40 minutes or so later Issac pulled up near what looked like a hiking trail. You didn’t know where you guys were because none of this looked familiar. Issac softly grabbed your hand and lead you down the path and what you saw was absolutely break-taking. Seeing the lights flickering in the distance you could see the entire town from up here, it was honestly the most beautiful thing.

Present Day

You smiled at the memory and began walking down the path. Overlooking the entire town it felt just like last time, however the lights weren’t flickering in the distance at least not yet.

“I can’t believe I haven’t came here since you showed me it” you said while sitting down.

Issac joined you and said “Well I like to think that this is our little secret place, and plus you’ve been busy and distracted”.

"How did you know that this was what I needed that night you came to my house?”

“I don’t know, it was the first thing that came into my head. This is where I came when things got too much and I guess I just wanted to share that with someone else” Issac said while playing with his hands, something you noticed he did when he was nervous.

You took his hand and glanced at into his eyes, “I’m glad you did”.

Both you and Issac noticed that day was slowly beginning to turn into night, and with that the weather changed from bearable cold to Beacon Hills cold, shivering you wrapped your coat even more around your body. Issac noticing that you were getting cold, pulled you towards him to radiate body heat. Silence filled the air, but it wasn’t awkward silence it was the peaceful kind. Watching the sun go day and the stars come out, the lights across the town began to light up.

You stood up and walked a little bit towards the edge but not far enough so you could fall, and just took in the breath-taking view. Issac came up beside you and a minute or two later you felt his hand reach for yours, in this moment you weren’t concerned what was wrong or right, you let Issac place his hand in yours and allowed yourself to forget about Theo, the supernatural, school..just about everything. You were here with Issac, feeling safe and feeling happy.

“Did you want to head back now?” Issac turned to you and asked

You shook your head, “Not yet can we just stay a little bit longer?” now it was your turn to give in the famous puppy dog eyes. Issac laughed and nodded, knowing that this was something you needed.

20 minutes later you thought that now would be a good time to leave, of course you didn’t want to go back to reality but you knew that you and Issac couldn’t stay here forever. Heading to the car you were about to get in when you felt a sudden rush. You placed your hand on the car to prevent you from falling down. Issac noticed and immediately rushed to your side providing support. “Are you okay?” he asked clearly worried about what just happened,

“I’m fine, it’s nothing. Come one let’s head back” you said while slowly getting into the car. Issac got into the drivers seat and looked at you before starting the engine and heading towards town.

Arriving home Issac being the gentlemen that he was walked you to the door, oblivious you knew he was just making sure you were okay. “Issac I know what your thinking, but I’m fine”

“Are you sure, what happened last night with that werewolf…”

You took his hand and smiled at him, reassuring him that he had nothing to worry about. You could tell he didn’t want to leave. “If it makes you feel any better you can come inside to make sure I’m okay”. You opened the door and walked into the living room, placing your coat on the couch you turned to face Issac. “Did you want anything to drink or eat?”

“No I’m fine” he said taking a seat on the coach.

You however were starving so you went into the kitchen to see what there was. Grabbing leftover pizza you placed it on the plate and then in the microwave to heat, while that was heating you grabbed a glass and filled it with water. The microwave beeped and you took your pizza and glass of water to where Issac was. Just as you were placing the pizza on the table, your hand which was holding the glass began to shake, the glass fell to the floor which altered Issac.

You looked at each other and panic was written on both of your faces, the room began to spin and the last thing you saw was Issac running towards you before everything went black.

Monsta X’s All In Theory (Complete)

Hey everyone!

I know I posted a theory for All In earlier, but I was overexcited, I’d just watched the music video, and it was quite late at night where I’m at, so that theory left out a lot of details and had a few holes in it. In light of that, I spent my afternoon and night watching and rewatching All In, dissecting the scenes, and forming a new and improved theory.

First off, a lot happens in the music video, obviously, and if I tried to explain my thoughts in chronological order according to the scenes in the music video, things would get confusing quite fast. Therefore, I’ve structured this into six parts. Part one of the theory consists of pieces of background that’re of importance. Part two talks about the significance of the blue flowers in the music video. Part three is follows the storyline of Hyungwon and Minhyuk. Part four follows the storyline of Shownu. Part five talks about Kihyun and the role he plays. Finally, part six ties in other little details of relevance.

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Seventeen  School AU//Fluff + Angst {Woozi ft. Mingyu} The Green Eyed Monster

A/N: plz enjoy m8’s it’s kinda LONG

Summary: At first you thought he wasn’t the jealous type. He was always focused on his set goals. You never saw him get too distracted, he always self regulated and made sure he was on the right track. You knew him for so long, so why now?

You fiddled with the change in your pouch, biting your lip as you pushed the coins into the coin slot. The machine shook, alerting you that your drinks were ready. You felt a soft hand on your shoulder as Jihoon bent down to grab the two soda cans for the both of you. 

“Did you study for the math test last night?” he popped the can open and took a sip, eyes still on you.

You bit your lip and nodded. “Yeah, I studied with a friend.”

He rose a brow, “really? With who?”

“Uh…Mingyu, you know the really smart kid, top of the class.” You smirked as you spoke. 

“Oh, yeah sure I know him.” He took another sip of his drink, eyes glued to your shoes.

You popped open your soda can and mimicked his movements; sipping at the fizzy contents. The first gulp made you shiver, you could hear Jihoon snort under his breath at you. You rolled your eyes at him and playfully slapped his shoulder. Gathering your books and book bag off the floor, you motioned for him to start walking. 

You two made your way to your third period class. You sit in the front of the room while he sits off to the side, by the window. You part ways as you enter the classroom. Jihoon didn’t like it when you hung around him so often in front of the other students, especially the other female students. You weren’t really bothered by his requests but, sometimes you felt as if having you around him was more of a burden on his shoulders. Him being your only friend made it hard for you to make new ones. So, you were never really excepted around the other students, more or less, just there. Your relationship with Jihoon was one that you would read in a Japanese Shoujo Manga. You were a quite reserved person who had a lot of knowledge and humor to share. Jihoon was the uptight, know it all, handsome hardworking student. The one that the other boys admired and were jealous of and the one that the other girls were smitten with. Yes, Jihoon had it all; the looks, the brains, and the muscles. Yet, there was just one thing holding him back, it was you. You still went along with it though, knowing that having Jihoon by your side really did help you gain more confidence. Even if in the future you two end up hating one another, at least you know it was worth having the experience. On the contrary, there was another person, one you have been noticing and seeing much more than you used to. 

You took a seat in your respected spot, gathering your notes and pens for class to start. You felt a pair of eyes on you. You swiftly snapped your head around to expect to see Jihoon smirking. Your eyes slightly widened when the gazing belonged to another classmate. Kim Mingyu. You sheepishly smiled at his direction. His cheeks slightly flaring red. 

Flashback to the other day~

Kim Mingyu has been particularly nice to you lately. The other day, during study period, Jihoon went to the library leaving you alone in the classroom full of students who’d look past your head to see out the window. You were left with no one to rely on. Awkwardly sitting there flipping through your notes, you were just about to pop your earbuds in and drone out the giggles of peer chit chat until, a tall handsome boy shyly walked up to your desk. 

“Excuse me, um… Y/N right?” he tucked his text book close to his chest, to you it seemed so child like and adorable, for the first time you were actually making full on conversation with another student besides Jihoon. 

You nodded stupidly, slightly confused as to why he came up to you in the first place. “Yea-yeah.” 

“Oh, good…hi….” he giggles. “do you want to study together? I don’t have anyone else to study with, my friends went to the library and I saw you and thought…” His voice lowers and his eyes trail over to your hands which were fidgeting with your pencil. 

“Sure,” you say, sightly high pitched out of embarrassment. 

His head pops up and his eyes widen, much like of a small animal when the term food is mentioned. He flashes a pearly white smile, accented with cute dog like canines. His cheeks flush red and he pulls up a chair and opens his textbook, eagerly jotting notes down while starting basic school related conversation. He brings up a question half way through the period which slightly throws you off track. 

“Are you a friend of Jihoon? How do you know him so well?” He bites his lip as he flips through the pages. 

“Uh… honestly, when I first moved here, he was the first person who approached me and showed me around.” You smile to yourself, remember the day you and Jihoon first met. During spring when you first transferred, you walked into the class and introduced yourself. Looking over everyone in the classroom, trying to pick someone to make friends with first. Your eyes settled on a girl with short black hair. Her gaze directed over to the seat in front of her, she stared at the person with such aw. Your eyes then came into contact with the person equipping the seat. They were soft yet very reassuring, almost sweetly piercing you. You took your seat by the front of the class, knowing you work better there. Lunch rang around quite quickly, you didn’t know anyone so you found yourself sitting alone in the classroom eating your lunch and doodling in your sketch book. You heard that someone walked in and pull up a chair a couple of desks behind you. You felt a little awkward, the sensation of staring eyes made you uncomfortable. You heard the person shift and rise out of their seat. Taking footsteps towards you. Feeling their presents you put down your lunch and stared quietly down at your page praying that they’ll just walk away and leave you alone. 

“You’re pretty good at drawing.” you heard a calm and gentile voice from over your shoulder. “You’re that new student aren’t you. Y/N, right?” He then came into view, a small sweet smile on his lips. His hair at the time was of a peachy pink. It glowed in the sunlight filtering in from the windows. “I’m Lee Jihoon, you want me to show you around before lunch ends?” he asks. “It’s kind of my duty, as class president.” 

You hesitantly nodded a thank you. 

“Yah… Jihoon is a really good friend, I couldn’t imagine not having him around.” You say. 

Mingyu nodded as if he understood the level of your friendship. “You two must be awfully close then, I’m jealous.” 

This was the one thing that confused you the most that day; ‘I’m jealous.’ Jealous over what? Jihoon?

End of flashback~

Your attention was interrupted when your English teacher clicked her way into the classroom, hushing the students. You pulled out your notes from the previous class and whipped out your trusty pen. Her lecture began sweet and simple. She then handed out a partner worksheet. You sighed, you weren’t really much of a social creature. So finding a partner during group work was the most difficult aspect of school for you. You only really collaborate with Jihoon; him being your only friend that is. You turned around in your seat to catch is attention. You breathed a sigh of relief when his eyes gave you the signal. You started to gather your things to move to sit with him when, you were stopped by a tall figure. You had to look up in order to see who it was. Mingyu, had a broad smile on his face, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Y/N you want to work together?” 

“Uh,” your eyes darted towards Jihoon who had a questioning look on his face. You sighed and shook your head slightly. He wouldn’t mind for one day. Mingyu was a really nice guy and you did study with him the other day. It wouldn’t hurt, would it?

Mingyu rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, waiting for his reply. His smile never fading; and god damn wasn’t it convincing. 

“Uh well I was going to work with Jihoon but, he likes to work by himself sometimes,” you lied. “So sure… we can be partners.” You shrugged a little in defeat. 

Mingyu happily awed, and bounced over to his seat, he beckoned you to sit with him. You smiled rolling your eyes slightly. He didn’t really seem like the smart, straight A type. He was too… handsome too… cute? No, puppy-like, was the term. His hair was a fluffy dark chocolate brown, the way it bounced when he walked was just too much. His eyes, when he smiled they sparkled, when he pouted they gleamed innocently. His cute, crocked grin, the way his canines would show when he smiled a little too broadly. Whenever he would finish a question he would giggle and ruffle his hair. God the boy was fine, and smart! 

You finished your work and organized your papers. Mingyu bid you a bye, waving his huge hands and flashing you his best. 

The bell rings, signalling fourth period to begin.

You slung your bag over your shoulder and nodded to Jihoon, “okay, lets go!” You started walking, swinging your arms happily, “hey about music club-” you turned to your friend but, he was all the way by the gates of the school. You knitted your brows in confusion. “Yo, aren’t you coming?” You chuckled. 

“Y/N, we need to talk.” He started to fidget with the hem of his school vest. 

“Huh?” You were generally confused as to why he was acting so serious all of a sudden, especially when it came to Music Club. You jogged towards him, a look of concern pasted on your face. “What is it?” you laughed nervously. 

He ran a hand through his hair and turned to face the baseball field. His eyes squinted in the blinding sun. His golden, peachy blonde hair shimmered in the light. His pale. smooth porcelain skin glowed. You had to admit it, you were starting to get lost looking at his distant stance. His eyes shifted over to face you. 

“Y/N, I have something to tell you.” 

You blink a couple of times to clear your head. “Yeah, w-what is it?”

“I think I like yo-” His voice was drowned out by another. A very familiar one. 

“Y/N!” A shout came from behind you followed by heavy jogging. Your still fixed on Jihoon. 

His face was screwed into a look of irrational irritation. “Y/N, I-” 

“Y/N, you want to walk home together?” You snapped your head in surprise to see a sweaty, out of breath Mingyu. His hair tossed and disheveled. 

“Mingyu? Uh sure, you can walk with us but, hold on one second.” You turned to Jihoon and nodded for him to continue. “You were saying something about..?” 

Jihoon’s eyes turned cold as ice as they shifted over to meet the boy standing beside you. “Yah, Mingyu, I need to talk to her alone.” Jihoon grabbed your wrist and pulled your away from the tall boy. 

Your eyes scanned Jihoon’s face; it was full of something you never seen before. It was an emotion that you’d never suspect he was capable of feeling. Was it anger? No, wait… was it jealousy? 

Mingyu blinked in confusion, his eyes shifted over to yours. “Are you okay?” they were soft, and so full of concern. It made you squirm a little under his gaze. The fact that he was worried for you made your heart skip in your chest.

You nodded, “yes, I’m fine.” Your focus changed to Jihoon. His hand wrapped tightly yet gently around your wrist. He pulled you behind him and stepped towards Mingyu. This when you could truly see the difference in the two, physically and personality wise. The height difference didn’t seem to add up with their personalities. Neither did their facial features. Yet at the same time it was so strange to see your friend acting this way. He’s never this direct nor this aggressive. It was starting to scare you. 

“Jihoon,” you put a hand on his wrist which was gripping onto yours. “Hold on, I’m a little confused. Why are you acting like-”

“Y/N, let got of me.” The coldness in his voice sent shudders of fear up your spine. You winced under your breath and released him. The grip on your wrists becoming tighter with every word he spoke. 

Mingyu straightened his posture, eyeing you. “Are you sure… you’re okay?” He reached for you. 

Jihoon moved you out of the way. Stepping forward to further pull you behind him as if he was protecting you. “She’s fine, sorry Mingyu but we have to go now.” He pushed past Mingyu dragging you with him. 

The grip on your wrist unbarring, you try to twist your way out but his hold is too strong and determined for you. “Jihoon…aish…please can you let got of me! You’re hurting me!” It’s like what ever was possessing him left his body. He snaps out of his trance and spins around to face you, letting go of your swore wrist. Eyes full of regret, they fall to the ground.

“Sorry… I think I lost myself.” He straightens his book bag straps. 

“What’s wrong with you today, you’ve been acting strange…” you eye him. “You’re not usually like this.” You sigh out of distress. “Look if it’s something I did I’m sorry, just tell me what’s wrong.” Silence takes over the two of you. You notice Mingyu watching you body turned the opposite direction his eyes on you and Jihoon just in case something happens. Jihoon places both hands on your shoulders, He straightens his gaze and stares deep into your eyes. You feel your ears heat up from the contact. You feel a pull on your sides. Soon you find yourself set into Jihoon’s chest. You can hear his heart pounding as his arms wrap around you. 

You hear foot steps in the opposite direction, you suspect them to belong to Mingyu because they seem to fade away with the sounds of the birds, rustling trees, and distant city bustle. 

“Y/N, I have something to tell you,” his voice is deeper than usual. “I don’t like it when other guys look at you the way I look at you. I don’t like it when other guys talk to you the way I talk to you. I don’t want you to talk to other guys the way you talk to me.” He pushes you deeper into his chest. 

The wind blows, your hair rides the wind, blinding your already blurry tear full vision. 

“Y/N, promise me, that you wont look at other guys the way you look at me.” His voice drops a handful of octaves. 

Tears start to roll down your cheeks, you can feel your ears starting to burn hot red. You stand there, in his arms, silently crying. Not saying a single word, neither promising or refusing. 

“I’m sorry Y/N, I’m just a green eyed monster. Please forgive me.”

This is by no means every fic I’ve ever enjoyed - that list would probably stretch to the end of time. These are a handful of the ones that I’ve enjoyed the most and were written by truly masterful wordsmiths, so I hope that you and your friend can enjoy them as much as I did. No doubt this list will grow as I find more lovely things.

It gets a bit long, so I’ll put it under a cut.

MarieJacquelyn’s Big Fat Hobbit Fic Recommendation List

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anonymous asked:

romantic things daniel, nicolas, worick and cody do for their s/o's ~<3

[I shall do my best, my dear~!]


⦁ Since he’s skilled at choosing his words, he’s really good at writing them love letters. He makes sure that it seems like he cares and pours a good amount of lies and deceit romance and passion into every word. He’ll spritz the envelope with some of his cologne.

⦁ With Danny, material things might as well be romantic. Like some kind of sugar daddy tooth fairy, he’ll leave fat stacks of money under his s/o’s pillow for his s/o to spend to their heart’s content. 

⦁ He’ll prepare candlelit dinners out on the balcony.

⦁ Every time he’s saying hello or on his way out, he leaves a few kisses on his s/o’s palm.

⦁ He puts some music on and slow dances with his s/o.

Nicolas [some of these aren’t that romantic; just things he does for them]

⦁ Over time, the kisses he shares with his s/o have different meanings. A kiss to the knuckles means he was worried about them. If it’s on the forehead or cheek, it’s a simple greeting or goodbye. On the lips is the ultimate gesture of love and trust he could give. 

⦁ He’ll try his hand several times at doing traditional romantic things like buying flowers or candy, but doing those things don’t feel right?? Like he’s trying to fit a mold he doesn’t belong in? So when he wants to show that he cares, he’ll settle for giving them a massage. He’s been told by his s/o that his hands look like they’d be good at it and who is he to say no?

⦁ When he knows his s/o is on their way home, he stands outside to wait for them.

⦁ He doesn’t take good care of his own things (except with his books) but he makes sure his s/o’s possessions are kept in pristine condition. He’ll even go out of his way to polish their shoes if they’re dirty.

⦁ Okay okay, so this is sweet of him. He’ll leave a book in their room and in between its pages, there’s a bookmark with written instruction on where to begin reading and where to stop. In whatever passage he wants his s/o to read are relating to his inner thoughts. It might be a paragraph about a character reflecting when they fell in love. Or how they wrestle with new feelings.


⦁ He’ll have a bath running for his s/o and will be thrilled if they actually wanted him to join in.

⦁ He’s a poetry kind of guy, believe it or not. When his head isn’t killing him, he’ll sit down and write a couple stanzas. They’re mostly silly and sweet, like he is.

⦁ He’ll arrange some delicious desserts and feed it to his s/o and because he’s a goof, he’ll “accidentally” get some on his face and ask pretty please, with sugar on top, to clean him up.

⦁ He’s also the “rose petals leading to the bedroom” kind of guy but what they find at the end of it isn’t a guy in his birthday suit. No, it’s really a guy struggling to get into his birthday suit because romancing someone he actually loves is a whole lot tougher and nerve-wracking than someone he doesn’t. At least for him, it is.

⦁ On those quiet days when there’s nothing to do, he likes to stay in bed with his s/o in his arms. He’ll kiss and caress them, speaking of how much he’s grateful for someone like them to be the love of his life.


⦁ He’s the type of guy who comes by his s/o’s workplace to give them flowers or bring them lunch.

⦁ He won’t hang up the phone without saying I love you, even if he’s a little grumpy at them.

⦁ He’ll always rush to get home if he has a chance of getting off work early because he’ll want to make dinner for his s/o.

⦁ He always has a plan for date nights and wants it to be a surprise but he’s so excited, he ends up spilling the beans.

⦁ He’ll send cute little texts during the day, telling his partner sweet things like, “I love you so much, beautiful” and “I’m so lucky to have you.”

Oh, no, now I’m writing bad fan fiction….

“One of the Guys”

A year after the events of Zootopia, Judy undergoes a quarter-life crisis. WildeHopps get together! Just couldn’t get this out of my head so here it is. Thanks for never judging me, Tumblr!

If anyone from the outside had looked into the ZPD office that evening, they would think someone had incited a riot. A second glance and they would realize the commotion was coming from the blue-clad officers, themselves. A cotillion of sorts was underway after hours, each of the attendees joyfully partaking of the food and drink spread liberally across the main hall. Except for one mammal.

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