this must be a regular occurrence

anonymous asked:

Can you kill yourself please it's pretty obvious your never going to get better

I genuinely feel sorry for you; i can’t imagine how it must feel to hold such negative hatred for others, enough to try to encourage someone to kill themselves. Get help, grow up, gain some humanity, and before you suggest for me to do the same, just know i’ve been working my ass off the past few years in trying to get better. And i am getting better, but i’m allowed to have my horrible and low days. I still feel like killing myself sometimes, and self-harm is still a regular occurrence for me, but i’ve grown as a person and developed some strength. I’d recommend you do the same x

||HISTORICAL BARATHEON SERIES||

“Come closer, child.”

“Your Grace, I am very grateful for the chance to serve as your … your page,” Steffon said, carefully repeating the words he had practiced repeatedly with his mother.

“Your Grace? Would you not call me Grandfather?” Aegon asked kindly.

Tentatively, hesitantly, Steffon raised his head to look at the king. “My mother said … she said I am not to call you Grandfather when I am serving you. And I must act like all the other royal pages and not think myself above them just because … well, just because -”

“Just because you are my grandson?”

Steffon nodded.

“Your mother is a wise woman.”

Steffon nodded again, more eagerly this time.

“There will be those who seek to treat you differently because you are my grandson, to seek to influence you so they could try to curry favor with me. You must not allow yourself to fall into that trap.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Steffon replied earnestly, though he did not truly understand what the king meant.

Later, he would understand, more than understand. A sudden, over-lavish and extravagant praise about some supposed great deed Steffon had accomplished, followed by, “Do you suppose your grandfather would ever consider …” became a regular occurrence.

“I don’t know. I will ask,” Steffon would reply innocently at first, until he finally caught on to what the king had meant by ’currying favor’.

Formatting Fics

The format of your posts on Tumblr can make all the difference when someone is choosing whether or not to read your fic. A comprehensive and easy-to-read format will prevent people from skipping over your fics before they even read the first word. There is no one way to format a fic, but there is a general form that most writers on tumblr use, and it allows readers to see what your story is about before reading. Here’s the most common way of formatting posts:

1. A header and/or gif. Some people make headers for their stories, some don’t. Most use at least a gif that relates to a main part of the story. If your story is a fluffy, romantic piece, a gif of the main character smiling or hugging someone will do. However, these are not necessary.

2. A summary. These don’t have to be elaborate at all. “Character x and character y go to a place and trouble happens” will suffice. Write a simple summary and own it. No one expects anything profound here. 

3. Characters and/or pairings. People like to know what relationships are involved in the stories, especially if the reader is the one romantically involved. Making note of other characters is also nice to do, but isn’t necessary.

4. Word count. This is a must. People need to gauge how long your fic is going to take them to read. A rounded number, like 2.1k, will do. 

5. Warnings. This is also a must, but you do not have to warn for every little thing. Warnings are for heavier topics, such as rape, abuse, assault, character death, suicide, etc. If fighting and blood are regular occurrences in your fandom, warnings for these things are not necessarily needed, unless you are being especially graphic. @saxxxology has a pretty comprehensive list here. Always use your best judgment when deciding what or what not to warn for. 

6. Author’s note. These are generally used only when needed. You can make note of beta’s here (you should always give credit) or say something about the chapter or fic. This is a pretty general space and you can put whatever you need to here. 

7. Keep Reading. JUST DO IT. Most people say that if your fic is over 1k, put a keep reading. Personally, if I hit 700 words, I put one. Nothing will turn a reader off faster than having to scroll through a massive fic in the middle of their dash. Its the courteous thing to do for your followers and others when your fic is reblogged. 

8. Mentions/tag list. Everything above goes before your fic, at the top of the post, but tags should go after, at the bottom. Why? Again, ease of use for the reader. No one wants to scroll through tags to get to the story. They are not necessary info for the reader, they are for you, so that your readers will know when you post. You can block the tags off with a line, a picture, or just stick the list after the last line of text. Even if you have a small tag list, start making a habit of putting it at the bottom. 

9. #Tags. The first five are searchable, so make use of those. Put the pairing, fandom characters involved, the general theme, type of AU, etc. These will help others search for your fic. 

Here’s a example of how I format my fics, for you visual people.

Originally posted by itsokaysammy

Summary: You and Sam spend some time together and get close.

Characters/Pairing: Sam x reader, Dean, Castiel

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: none

A/N: I loved writing this story! It was super fluffy. I hope you guys enjoy it, too. Beta’d by the amazing so-and-so.

The text of your story. After the first paragraph or so, put a keep reading. This keeps the post relatively short on everyone’s dash. 

[keep reading]

The rest of your story

goes

here

obviously. lol

Tags: put your reader list here

And that’s it! You can tweak things to fit your style best, it doesn’t have to be the same as everyone else. Just make sure you have the necessary items and that your format is easy to read for others!

Tidal Fears

Steve x Reader

Summary: You have the ability to control fire and water, but you refuse to use your powers after being under Hydra’s control in the past. That’s until someone threatens the safety of your friends and the man you secretly love, and you’re forced to intervene. 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count:  + 3k

Warnings: angst, [badly written] fight scenes, injuries, reader has the ability to control water, fluff, Steve being adorable, un-beta’d

a/n: this is my first attempt at writing Steve, so constructive feedback is appreciated! I don’t really know how I feel about this, it has more of an action plot than what I usually add to a fic, so I’m kinda nervous about posting.*runs and hides*


The nightmares started the day after Natasha and Steve had found you locked up at a Hydra base. They’d been performing experiments on you, much like the ones they did on Bucky, except you now had the abilities to control water and fire, which Hydra didn’t fail to use for their own advantage. 

You became an asset to them. They named you ‘The Matrix’.

After bringing you back to the safety of the Avengers compound, you soon became comfortable in the everyday workings there, getting to know the team and reuniting with Bucky. You were so relieved that he was OK, that he was no longer under the control of Hydra.

You didn’t go on missions for the first few months, but you helped out by planning out routes and being the in house nurse for any injuries that the team returned with. Having shirtless Avengers sitting in front of you while you cleaned up their cuts and bruises was definitely the highlight, but you still couldn’t help but feel useless and weak. You had no control over your abilities, and your sleep was plagued by the memories of what Hydra did to you and what you did for them.

One night, you were awoken by a strong pair of hands shaking your shoulders and a loud scream filling the room. Your eyes flew open, soon realising that the scream was your own and that Steve was holding your shoulders, a concerned look etched across his face.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Do u have any neallen headcanons

OH BOY DO I EVER

What are we talking about here, anon? Fluff? Angst? Something completely random? I got you.

(Allen is past Allen unless mentioned otherwise)

  • Nea likes to act like he’s all smooth and charming, but in reality he’s a dork and, especially around Allen, a nervous wreck
  • nine times out of ten Allen does the flirting
  • when Nea does actually flirt, it’s either bad puns or something morbid, but it works on Allen so it’s ok
  • childhood rivals to archenemies to friends to lovers
  • if we go with the “past Allen was a bookman” theory; Bookman was actually cool with their relationship, but when it resulted in Allen’s disappearance, he decided on the whole “a bookman has no need for a heart” thing and that’s why he’s been drilling it into Lavi so much
  • (past) Mana was the one who got them together (matchmaker Mana is my fav, I actually started writing a fic… which I will never ever finish t b h)
  • Nea is weak and willing to do absolutely anything Allen asks for (even if it’s something as dumb as “use me, Nea, I’ll protect your memories from everyone” but let’s not go there)
  • at first Allen was the Voice of Reason who got Nea out of stupid shit, but eventually they found out that his plans are even more dumb (”use me, Nea” my ass)
  • the previous Noah family (the ones he met at least) absolutely adored Allen and kept nagging Nea to bring him over for family gatherings
  • even after knowing the twins for a crapload of years, Allen was still unable to navigate himself in the Ark, so Nea losing his patience and walking hand-in-hand with him was a regular occurrence (Mana laughed and laughed)
  • if we go with the assumption that current Allen eventually joins Nea’s side; he doesn’t flinch an eyebrow upon finding out that he used to have a relationship with Nea and insists that he’s a different person now, but he’s super nice about it and expresses his sorrow to Nea about how hard it must have been to lose someone dear to him
  • (while secretly oggling him murder m e)

Alright, this is a mess, I’m sorry. The best thing is that we know next to nothing about Nea and Allen so we can make up whatever headcanons we want!

Lived in an old two bedroom, three storey walkup for a time in my early 20s in Toronto. A few days after moving in my roommate Mike chides me in the morning for banging on the wall that separated our bedrooms and pacing back and forth across the apartment at night. We just agreed he must have been dreaming or it was sounds from other apartments as I had done no such thing. We agreed that it must have been nothing and left it at that but this became a regular nightly occurrence.

Shortly thereafter I started noticing at certain times in my own bedroom the cloying smell of cheap women’s perfurme mixed with a damp musty smell. Imagine an old person’s clothes left on a damp musty basement floor near a litterbox that wasn’t being changed often enough and you get the idea. What made it even weirder is that I would be filled with a sudden horrible sense of foreboding a few moments before the smell would begin.

Mike flaked out and left only 4 months into our 1 year lease which meant I was left footing the rent for the entire place until I could find another roommate. I had decided to try and sleep in his bedroom shortly after he moved to see if things would get better. The very first night I slept in his former room I had an incredibly detailed and realistic nightmare of myself standing in the dimly-lit bathroom of the apartment and cutting my own face with a large shard of glass while staring into the broken bathroom mirror (it was only broken in the dream)

Soon after that I started to hear the loud bangs at night and the flushing of the toilet in the bathroom. Several times the hot water in the bathtub turned on full blast in the middle of the night.

One of the freakier things that happened not too long before I moved is the time I was woken up by the TV blaring Poltergeist on CityTV at about 2 in the morning. At the time that channel would always play movies late at night but the fact that the one time my analog TV (turn a knob to change the channel or the volume, pull a knob to turn it on) turned on by itself at full blast was the time a movie like Poltergeist was playing.

[Story credit: [deleted])

BSD Light Novel: Dazai Osamu and the Dark Era (Prologue, Part 2/3)

I’m making fair progress through these, so rejoice! you should be able to expect one part every one/two days. I’ll update as I go along. 

Also please thank @nakaharachuyaa for proofreading this! Otherwise it’d be in shambles lmao. I’ll look into setting up a masterpost and whatnot as the number of chapters increase. As usual, please don’t hesitate to drop me a note if anything looks funny or if you’d like to clarify anything, and enjoy!

Keep reading

The Most Feared Dark Lord



Exploring

  • War and conflict in the wizarding world
  • The history of Dark Lords and violent uprisings
  • Why Voldemort was so successful in terrorizing the population
  • Why the Ministry is so powerless against Dark Lords.


History on Loop


I have explained how the population structure of wizarding Britain is not the same as muggle Britain but closely resembles the demographics of a pre-industrialised country such as Britain in the 17th century: a high death, a high birth rate and a small, stable population (Demographics of the Wizarding World).

Disease is an important factor in maintaining both a high death rate in such pre-industrial countries but violent conflict is just as important and the wizarding world has no shortage of violent conflict.

I find it interesting that Lord Voldemort, despite all the terrible things he has done to himself and others, is only the most feared Dark Lord in the last 100 years. This means just two generations before and potentially within living memory there was someone even worse than Voldemort. More importantly, Lord Voldemort isn’t the only Dark Lord in a century; he is merely the most feared.


Keep reading

Jumpers (Perciver)

One day Oliver Wood is running late for quidditch practice (a thing previously unheard of) and he rushes around the dorm trying to find a jumper to wear because it’s cold. At the time, all he can find is Percy’s jumper from Mrs Weasley so he pulls that on and goes to quidditch practice in it. This becomes a regular occurrence, Oliver borrowing Percy’s jumpers (and hardly ever returning them). He doesn’t really need to, he’s got plenty of jumpers of his own, but he does it anyway because it’s funny to watch Percy frantically searching for his jumpers and wondering where the hell they’ve all gone (plus they’re comfy and smell nice but nevermind that).
Percy comes to the conclusion that someone must be taking his jumpers (probably Fred and George, he thinks) because let’s be real Percy Weasley probably never lost so much as a sock nevermind what was quickly adding up to be stacks of jumpers. One day he accused the twins and they denied knowing anything about it, grinning widely because they knew it was Wood (they recognised the jumpers at quidditch practice).
At some point, Percy actually catches Wood wearing one of his jumpers and is absolutely flabbergasted because the last person he expected to be the jumper thief was Oliver Wood. He confronts him in the dormitory, bemused when Wood actually starts to laugh. Oliver returns the jumpers and even though Percy totally notices that some are still missing he doesn’t mention it to anyone, least of all Wood himself. Wood still borrows his jumpers all the time and Percy has to hunt him down to get them back, from time to time he returns them of his own accord, but they’re usually soaking wet or muddy because he’s had quidditch practice in the rain or he’s fallen off his broomstick (or whatever excuse Wood’s given him).
Eventually, Percy is complaining about Oliver taking his jumpers so frequently that in literally every letter he sends home there are at least 5 mentions of it and Mrs Weasley decides that enough is enough (if she has to hear about it one more time she will probably rip her hair out). Oliver is beyond surprised to receive a package and letter from Percy’s mother of all people and is unexpectedly moved by the two knitted jumpers he finds in the package. Because he totally has an impeccably mannered sweetheart persona under his obsession with quidditch, he writes back to Mrs Weasley himself thanking her for the jumpers and she starts to send him one every Christmas.
But he still borrows Percy’s jumpers every now and then, it’s basically a tradition anyway and even though Percy grumbles about it he doesn’t really mind that much as long as he gets them back eventually (it’s totally not because when he gets them back they smell fresh and outdoorsy with the slightest hint of broomstick polish ha absolutely not).
Don’t even suggest that Percy doesn’t totally return the favour one day when he has to do his rounds and it’s winter. It’s nowhere near as comfortable as his own jumpers (but it really does smell nice). So he’s wearing this jumper and who should he bump into but Wood himself (wearing what was probably recognisable as Percy’s jumper about two hours ago, but is now covered in mud). Wood takes in the fact that Percy is wearing his jumper and, without missing a beat, nonchalantly compliments his new and improved style (but the nonchalance is ruined by the overdramatic wink he gives as he’s walking away). Percy is left blushing in the corridor.

Considerate people [ @lizzgrantham ]

Once again, she had been left to clean up the mess left by the Debate Council all by herself. Apparently, she must have ‘mug’ written across her forehead, she thought, because it seemed to be becoming a regular occurrence within the group. She sighed as she started picking up stacks of paper and neatening them in a pile, which she hoped would make it easier for her to carry to the recycling bin outside, considering the fact that maybe the council made decisions behind her back about how they would play on her helpful nature and make her tidy up after them. The thought in itself had her slamming a stack of paper down on the desk in front of her and sighing in frustration, hand reaching up to rub her temples in order to calm her down.

It was only then that she realised that she wasn’t alone and that someone was, somewhat tentatively, approaching her with papers in their arms. Perhaps they were her own or papers left by others but either way, she suddenly felt a rush of gratitude. “Thank you” she said, turning to the girl in front of her and holding out her hand for the papers in her arms. “You don’t have to, but I appreciate it. You’re new aren’t you? I haven’t seen you here before…”

pantherdyne  asked:

♥ - nice to see you back j

Send a url with a symbol and my muse must kiss them on that spot!

♥ - cheek

“Well, that’s easy enough. You don’t mind, Ann-chan?”

The years had been quite kind to Rise, and though her days as a popular teenage pop idol were (mostly) behind her, adulthood had opened up new doors for her. More serious modeling gigs were a regular occurrence for her, and she even had some possible acting roles lined up! Of course, she would still keep making music, but… Today, she had the pleasure of working with an up-and-coming model from one of the local high schools, by the name of Ann Takamaki. 

It would be a simple photoshoot, mainly meant to show off a new line of bright summer fashion that had just released, and one of the many requested poses involved her placing a friendly kiss upon the younger girl’s cheek while Ann made a mock-surprise expression. It was meant to be a cutesy, fun, energetic sort of shot, and Rise was all too happy to provide! As the cameramen moved into position, the woman smiled cheerfully, waiting for a nod from the manager before making her move! Aaaaaand… There!”

anonymous asked:

headcanons about the marauders in their dorm??

Life in the marauders’ dorm? A very scary place.

The first night in the dorms, they were unpacking and sticking things on the walls. They’d put up James’s Gryffindor banner between he and Sirius’s bed and their respective Quidditch posters and banners on the walls. No one had put their family pictures up yet, in case they were the only one. Except James, who unreservedly placed a picture of his mum and dad on the wall near his nightstand. Then all the other boys followed suit and they had their first real group conversation about their respective families, childhoods, etc. Every inch of the walls were covered in Gryffindor posters, because they were dorks, family pictures, band posters and, when they discovered girls, a muggle pinup calendar.

Fires were a regular occurrence; they learned repairing and extinguishing charms straight away.

Dorm rules taped to the wall.

  • Don’t steal each other’s sweets if you can’t replace said objects within 48 hrs.
  • If you don’t keep your sweets locked away, FAIR GAME.
  • Side drawers are sacred. Hands off.
  • 20 minute time limit for morning showers so everyone else can get ready.
  • One can call a group meeting to settle a personal dispute, but both the accused and the defence must respect the ruling of the two non-injured parties. If no agreement can be settled upon, a formal duel will take place.
  • Closed curtains means bugger the hell off. Respect that.
  • If you’re doing something gross but necessary behind closed curtains, use a silencing charm.

They paid to have their motto embroidered onto a banner and it hung from the ceiling.

Dance parties. IT HAPPENED.

Just boy wrestling and fart noises and stupid drunken questions and antics and laughter and I can’t.

30% of the fires were caused by playing polish pirate poker-the awe inspiring and also slightly terrifying game that exists in the Haggis world.

When they got to that age when wanking became a thing, rules were discussed and voted upon: charm your curtains closed, please wait until lights out or use the toilet, use a silencing charm, keep it at a reasonable time limit.

They all had things they brought from home: Peter brought his chess set, Remus brought Gobstones, James was in charge of beverages and snacks, and Sirius brought his wireless.

James and Sirius brought their backup brooms so Peter and Remus could have nice brooms, too.

Their room was kind of disaster in terms of being tidy so they were always mixing up robes and exchanging random shoes or robes on the way to breakfast.

They made an entire set of rules fifth year, hopeful idiot boys, about all the girls they’d bring up to mess about with, but they didn’t really need them very much.

The other three bought a fake stag head and mounted it to the wall sixth year as a terrible joke. They used a permanent sticking charm and James gave up and used it as a coat rack.

They had a surplus cauldron that was almost constantly in use because they brewed contraband/untoward potions all the time, mostly to heal their various injuries and pepper up potions for after full moon nights.

Two words: liquor stash. They weren’t regular suppliers or anything, but they did have an extensive stash and people would trade a bottle or two for galleons or sweets.

Remus brought muggle board games, which were endlessly fascinating to the other three, but their attempts to charm the pieces to move usually ended in disaster.

If you’ve ever seen Dead Poet’s Society, in the very beginning they’re setting up “study group”…basically determining and delegating all coursework based on each boy’s best subject. That totally happened with the marauders. They had a big schedule and timetable on the wall. They did this to keep Moony caught up, and everyone knew it, but it was unspoken.

James and Sirius’s trunks had secret bottoms where they kept their illicit materials.

They were rather a secretive bunch, what with the shenanigans and illicit materials and animagus business. Although they tried desperately to charm their door shut with a password, it was warded against password charms, and the handle was similarly warded against locking charms–and for good reason. They settled instead for a very colourfully worded warning sign spell-o-taped to the door and a charm that made your hand turn purple if you tried to turn the doorknob without first muttering the countercharm.

Before any of them were really proficient in Transfiguration, they levitated a table up from the common room for their scheming.

Here you go! these were basically the same so I counted them in one.

Title: The Big Brother Act

Pairing: Karamel, mentioned Clois

Summary:

Mon-El and Clark meet when Mon-El inadvertantly interrupts his time with Kara.

“Hey cous!”

Kara spun on her heel and a huge grin overtook her expression as she saw Clark standing in the doorway of the tiny office that Cat Grant had assigned to her – which Snapper didn’t know about or he’d undoubtedly complain – and she immediately abandoned the story she was writing about toxic waste in National City’s river bank to go hug him. He immediately returned her embrace before pulling away.

Kara gave him a fake angry look and hit him lightly in the chest playfully. “You never told me you were coming! Why didn’t you call?”

“I wanted to surprise you. I know you’re a busy reporter these days but I thought maybe we could go grab some lunch? I actually have something I wanted to tell you”.

“Sure, lunch sounds great”.

They ended up at a small coffee shop a few blocks away from Catco where Kara ordered a panini and a caramel latte while her cousin ordered a turkey sandwich and a black coffee.  She pulled her face at his choice of beverage before they took a seat at a small rounded table in the corner of the room with leather armchairs for seating. “So what did you want to tell me?” Kara questioned before she took a hearty bite of her food. Whatever he wanted to tell her must be important since he came all the way from Metropolis to see her which wasn’t a regular occurrence on his part. She didn’t blame him though since he had his hands full with Superman and the Planet and Lois plus his adopted parents.

“Lois and I…we’re engaged”, he announced with perfect timing, causing her to choke on the food she’d just swallowed. Thankfully she wasn’t a human and was about to dislodge it from her throat without too much trouble – and without Clark having to embarrass her by giving her the Heimlich. “I wanted you to be the first to know after my parents. You’re the closet thing that I have to a sister and I’m hoping that you would agree to be a bridesmaid”.

Kara gaped at him wide eyed. “Lois wants me to be a bridesmaid?!”

“We both do. You are my only biological relative after all”.

At that, she promptly squealed and launched herself into his arms for a hug. Unbeknownst to her, Mon-El was coming down the street and he froze outside of the coffee shop as he recognised a certain blonde reporter locked in an embrace with a handsome stranger. They looked awfully close and very comfortable together, he couldn’t help but notice with a streak of jealously.

Without really thinking it through, he walked into the coffee shop and used the human currency to buy himself one of the creamy beverages that Kara liked so much and headed to their table.

“Kara!”

Mon-El’s familiar voice caused her to pull away from Clark with a startled look in his direction.

“Mon-El! What are you doing here?”

“I just stopped in for a coffaye and saw you over here”, he explained, staring at the dark haired man that was returning his stare with a hard one of his own.

“It’s called coffee, Mon-El” Kara corrected him with a smile. “And since you’re here you may as well meet my cousin. Clark, this is Mon-El and Mon-El, this is Clark”.

“Oh you’re Kara’s cousin!” he exclaimed and felt a rush of relief flow through him. Judging from the narrowed eyes, Clark had picked up on his relief and realised what he had mistakenly thought about the two of them.

“That’s me. You must be the DEO’s latest guest”, Clark responded slightly coldly as he held out his hand to shake Mon-El’s. Mon-El took it and felt kind of intimidated by the glare that the other man was giving him. Kara noticed and elbowed her cousin in the side.

“Clark, what is wrong with you?!”

Looking down at his cousin, the warmth returned to his eyes and he smiled at her cheerfully. “Nothing, Kara”.

“Well I’m going to go…” Mon-El went to make his way out and leave the two Kryptonians alone, when Clark halted him with a command.

“Wait a minute. I’d like to talk to you outside alone”.

“Clark!”

“Kara, I’ll be back in a second”.

Clark’s voice left no room for argument and the Daxamite reluctantly followed him outside of the coffee shop. He hoped that he wasn’t about to get killed for being Kara’s friend. That would suck.

“What are your intentions with my cousin?!”

So no tiptoeing around it then.

“Nothing. Absolutely no intentions! Kara’s my friend”, Mon-El answered him, taking a nervous step back. If Kara could kick his ass on a daily bases then he was sure it’d be a walk in the park for this guy.

“Right. And the way you were looking at her earlier was just friendly? You don’t have any romantic intentions to her even though when you didn’t know I was her cousin you looked like you wanted to kill me?”

There was no lying to this guy was there? He glanced over through the window to get one last glimpse of Kara before his inevitable demise at the hands of this intimidating man.

“Okay I wish to court Kara but not until she gives me a sign that she’s ready for that and I would never do anything to disrespect her”.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t but why do you want to court her? She has a million guys that are lining up for the chance to be with her. Why should she want you?”

Mon-El swallowed hard. There was no real reason that he could give to her cousin about why she should want him because anything redeemable about him came from her. “I can’t give you a list of reasons if that’s what you’re looking for. I don’t deserve Kara but I know that she makes me want to be a better person than I was and I never want to see a look of disappointment on her face directed at me. I feel like she’s the only reason that I didn’t completely fall apart when I realised my home was gone and I was stranded on Earth. The only reason I don’t feel completely alone now. She’s the most beautiful person that I’ve ever known, inside and out, and I’d like to spend the rest of my life on Earth, however long that may be, trying to make her as happy as she deserves to be”.

“That’s a cute speech”, Clark said finally. “Maybe you should tell her that”.

“I don’t know if she wants to hear it”.

“And you won’t know unless you try. However if you do anything to hurt her just know that I will kill you and fling you into space so no one will ever find your body – even though Kara would be more than capable of breaking you herself I know she would never do it but I’m not Kara”.

Mon-El’s eyes went wide at the other man’s threat. “…Got it”.

“Now let’s go back inside before Kara gets suspicious”.

Kara glanced up when the two men returned and she gave her cousin a suspicious look. Maybe she should have used her super-hearing to listen in on their conversation but she wanted to trust Clark.  Judging by the terrified look on Mon-El’s face though maybe she should have.

(part 1) 

With Yahaba practically attached to Kyoutani’s hip, he was surprised that his first year stalker even found an opening to talk to him.

Actually, Kyoutani was surprised the first year talked to him at all. He’d been following Kyoutani around for weeks after Kyoutani had inadvertently rescued him from his bullies, and hadn’t said a word. But Kyoutani was somewhat glad the first year spoke up.

“T-thank you for…saving me. That time,” he said when he cornered Kyoutani in the bathroom one day. His skinny shoulders were hunched forward, making him look almost a foot shorter than Kyoutani. He shuffled back and forth, his bright brown eyes kept flitting around his scuffed shoes.

Stunned by the first year’s sudden courage, Kyoutani mumbled, “…it was an accident.”

The first year looked up, surprised. “Oh. Well. Um, that’s okay…those guys haven’t h-hurt me since, so…thanks anyway.”

Kyoutani wasn’t sure what to do. It wasn’t often people thanked him so sincerely…and for something Kyoutani didn’t think he deserved credit for anyway. Kyoutani glared at the kid, trying to figure out what to say, but coming up with nothing.

Luckily the first year seemed to understand Kyoutani’s unease. He stuck out his hand and said, “M-my name’s Miyamoto Takashi. But people mostly call me Takashi, so…”

Kyoutani took his hand and gave it a firm shake. “Kyoutani Kentarou.”

Takashi smiled. “Nice to meet you, Kentarou-senpai. See you around!”

Before Kyoutani could say anything else, Takashi took off, leaving Kyoutani alone and somewhat confused by what just happened.

~~~~~

“So. Miyamoto Takashi. You finally figured out his name?”

“He told me himself.”

Kyoutani sat with Yahaba and Watari behind the school, eating lunch. Nowadays, eating lunch with them was a regular occurrence. At first Kyoutani had been offended when they invaded his private place where he always ate lunch alone, but once he realized they did it because they were all friends, he found he didn’t mind so much. And Kyoutani would be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate their company.

Today, they all pretended that they weren’t watching the little first year seated across the field, alone.

“Oh? So he finally got the guts to say something?” Yahaba asked, picking nonchalantly at his rice.

“That’s great,” Watari said, elbowing Yahaba. “It must have taken him a lot of courage.”

“I guess,” Kyoutani agreed, eyes still on Takashi. The kid suddenly looked up. Noticing Kyoutani, he waved enthusiastically, then went back to his meal.

Ever since he’d introduced himself, Takashi had taken to waving at Kyoutani every time he made eye contact instead of awkwardly looking away. Kyoutani hadn’t yet found it in himself to wave back yet, but Takashi didn’t seem to mind.

“I think it’s kind of cute,” Watari said.

“Cute?” Yahaba’s face contorted in disgust. “It’s annoying, not cute. He’s everywhere. That kid won’t leave Kyoutani alone for half a second.”

“Neither will you,” Kyoutani mumbled. Watari broke into a fit of giggles, while Yahaba slapped both of them.

“At least I’m not a copy cat like he is!” Yahaba protested.

“A copy cat?” Kyoutani echoed.

“Have you guys noticed the way Takashi wears his clothes?” Yahaba said, his eyes flicking to the first year.

Now that Kyoutani thought about it, he was wearing his clothes differently. His shirt untucked, his tie loose, the sweater vest he usually wore gone, but his blazer unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up messily -

“He dresses like you do,” Yahaba said.

Kyoutani was about to protest, to say that a lot of people wore their clothes like that, when Watari stood up and announces he was inviting Takashi to sit with them.

Oh god. 

(part iii)

No Way In Hell (14/15)

Summary: Heartthrob Killian Jones and Hollywood’s ice queen Emma Swan are chasing their dreams, hating each other since before their first meeting and thinking they will just have to tolerate the other while the shooting of their latest movie lasts. But there’s some fine print on their contracts and it seems that they don’t know quite what they have signed up for, both on and off set. Also on FF.net

Word Count: ~2 400

A/N: I want to thank everybody who has followed this fic and been incredibly patient while I tries to make it everything I wanted it to be. It is definitely one of my favourites to write and I hope you have enjoyed it at least half as much as I have.I think we can all agree that there has been too little kissing in this fic so there will be one more chapter (and perhaps an epilogue ;)).


He gets to her door in record time. Slightly out of breath and with a bit of a burn on his right hand where the hot cocoa sloshed and spilt. And he should really be more careful with his one remaining hand or Ruby is going to kill him for real this time.

Killian takes a deep breath and bangs on Emma’s door, not giving himself time to prepare a speech because… well, a) she has waited for him long enough and b) just because she might actually want to be with him for real, it doesn’t mean that they should and he is still a bit unclear on how dating him makes any sense and yeah, better knock before managing to talk himself out of it.

He didn’t consider the possibility of her not opening. Which, in hindsight, he should have because he just snubbed, objectively speaking, one of the most beautiful women in America and, quite subjectively speaking, the most beautiful woman in the world.

“Emma!” he calls out, trying to come up with something that will make her open up because he really doesn’t want to have that conversation through a bloody door. “Lass, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry. Please, just open up so we can talk… ok?”

Apparently not, because the door remains firmly shut and stays that way in the face of all his subsequent probing and pleading.

“Alright. You don’t want to talk to me, I get that. But you have to at least tell me so to my face, if you want me to give up,” Killian slumps against the wall next to the blasted door and slides down until he is sitting on the floor. “I can be a patient man, Swan. And I’m quite comfortable out here.”

He isn’t comfortable in the slightest, least of all with Emma mad at him as she obviously is.

Bloody hell, you really fucked up this time, Jones.

Killian sighs in what sounds suspiciously like defeat despite his sincere intention to sleep in front of her door, if he has to. He gets the feeling that he might have to.

He looks down at the to-go cup he put on the ground before promptly assaulting Emma’s door and finally takes a sip of the damn thing.

“Gods above, this is good.”

“It is.”

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A Year To Prove You Wrong CH14

Previous - Chapter 13

A Year to Prove You Wrong

Chapter 14

Caroline pushed open the door to Stefan’s office, hesitantly walking inside, expecting to see a mess after she and Stefan had amazing sex in there on Friday, especially when he had cleared everything off his desk to bring her to heaven with first his mouth and then his cock. Heat fluttered in her core at the thought, the remembered feelings of his mouth between her legs and him on top of her as he thrust deep made her pulse race with desire.

That was not the line of thinking she needed to be having right now. She was at work, not at Stefan’s. She had to remain professional, and try to put to the back of her mind the wonderful memories in this room. She took a breath, expecting the scent of stale sex to still permeate the air. It didn’t. It smelled fresh and clean, someone must have opened a window.

A blush stained her cheeks, her eyes straying to the desk they’d left in disarray with trepidation. The files that Stefan had carelessly swept to the floor were stacked neatly on top of his desk, a new and unbroken phone staring at her. She sucked in a breath, mortified at what that meant.

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Fic: Fall Into My Arms

Ems requested a meet-cute, so I met cute. Kurt falls into the lap of a mysterious guy on the subway, but has to leave abruptly. Will they run into each other again? (Of course they will.) ~1100 words, PG-13.

Kurt would never admit that he was kind of a klutz. Sure, his ability to trip over thin air and familiarity with all the nurses at NYADA’s health clinic due to dance class mishaps were damning, but he firmly refused to believe that he was clumsy. Sometimes his brain just didn’t communicate with his body, that was all.

Since Kurt wasn’t a klutz, he usually ended up not holding onto the safety rails on the subway whenever he was forced to stand during his ride home. He usually didn’t need them, as the ride was fairly smooth, and those rails were probably covered in germs and bodily fluids anyways, so he’d almost rather chew off a hand before touching them. He preferred to use his phone and adjust his center of balance whenever he knew a bend was coming.

Of course, the day Kurt got cocky about not using the safety rails was the day it took a turn too quickly and sent him flying sideways, prompting him to yell “Shit!” before crashing into another person.

Another person who was very, very attractive.

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You know what the best part about them waking up on Kensi’s couch (I think it’s Kensi’s; the curtains don’t match Deeks’)? It’s that there’s no comments made about it at all, and they don’t look at each other like “What are you doing here?” or say “Wow, we must have fallen asleep.”

You know what this means? It means it’s a regular enough occurrence to not warrant comment.