this is the most recent reply I have for this thread

anonymous asked:

57 with fluff ending?

Her (Yoongi x Reader Angst/Fluff)

Prompt request: “You don’t understand, you never do!”

Summary: Yoongi is still close with his most recent ex. He doesn’t think much of it, and he’s told you many times that he doesn’t have any feelings for her. But when they dated for years, and you’ve only been in the picture for a few weeks, you can’t help but feel a little insecure. 

Word count: 1.7k words

Originally posted by jeonbase

You yawned quietly, snuggling into Yoongi’s lap. The movie playing in front of you was boring, and it already hours past midnight. As you fought the urge to fall asleep, you turned your head to see how your boyfriend was faring.

Above you, Yoongi’s face was illuminated by the bright screen of his phone. He was typing away, completely engrossed in whatever he was doing. Every now and then, his lips would quirk into a smile or he would laugh breathily.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice slurring slightly due to your exhaustion. Yoongi glanced down at you, his eyes wide with surprise as if he had forgotten you were there. “I’m getting sleepy.

“Oh, I’m just texting Eunha,” Yoongi replied, glancing at the clock hanging on the wall above his television. You couldn’t help but frown at the mention of Yoongi’s ex-girlfriend, and the fact he was talking to her while you were supposed to be spending time together. “Yeah, it’s getting late. I didn’t even notice. You gonna head to your dorm?”

You sat up quickly and grabbed the remote that was beside you. You turned off the TV and stood up. “Yeah,” you answered curtly. “I’ll see you later.”

“Y/N, don’t be like that,” Yoongi sighed, running a hand over his face tired. He stood up, too, and tucked his phone into his back pocket. “You know that we’re just friends. There aren’t any feelings between us. Besides, we were friends before we dated, I’m not just gonna cut her out of my life.”

“Yeah, I know,” you said resignedly, looking at your feet instead of Yoongi. “There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just me.”

“Hey, don’t be like that,” Yoongi said softly, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m dating you because I like you, not anyone else. Don’t worry about stuff like that, okay?”

“Okay,” you replied, returning your boyfriend’s smile with a small one of your own. Yoongi pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead.

“Come on, it’s already late,” Yoongi said, grabbing your head and threading his fingers through yours. “I’ll walk you to your dorm.”

“It’s okay, Yoongi,” you laughed, trying to disentangle your hand from his. He wouldn’t let go. “Really, it’s fine. My residence is like, a five minute walk away.”

“So?” Yoongi asked, his eyebrow raised challenging. “It’s dark. Something might happen. And besides, I want to.”

“If you insist,” you conceded teasingly. The two of you slipped into your shoes and exited Yoongi’s small dorm, hand in hand and smiling the entire way back to your place.


A few days later, you and Yoongi were supposed to meet up at a quaint coffeeshop for brunch. You had planned the date a few weeks ago. Yoongi was fairly late, so you wondered if he had forgotten. You pulled out your phone to see no new messages. Sighing, you started to text Yoongi.

SENT 10:27 AM

Hey r u coming?

RECEIVED 10:32 AM

Yeah I’m OMW. Sorry about that.

SENT 10:33 AM

It’s cool. I’m gonna order so I don’t get kicked out tho

RECEIVED 10:36 AM

I just bumped into Eunha. She just got in from Daegu today. Do you mind if she comes along?

SENT 10:37 AM

Seriously Yoongi?

RECEIVED 10:40 AM

I know, I know. But she’s not gonna have any time to see me otherwise. I haven’t seen her in months, Y/N.

SENT 10:42 AM

Fine. Do what you want.

And when Yoongi and Eunha waltzed into the coffeeshop, eyes bright with laughter and huge smiles, you regretted texting that.

Yoongi spotted you quickly, and shot you an apologetic smile before leading Eunha to where you were sitting. You hated to admit it, but she was really pretty. Her and Yoongi probably made a great couple.

“Y/N, this is Eunha,” Yoongi introduced as they sat down in front of you. “Eunha, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

“Oh!” Eunha exclaimed, looking a little flustered once she realized she was interrupting a date. Still, she smiled dazzlingly at you. “It’s so nice to meet you. Me and Yoongi are old friends, and we haven’t seen each other in a long time. I didn’t know you were supposed to be on a date, though.”

“Nice to meet you, too!” you replied cheerfully, although your smile was not as genuine as you tried to make it. “And it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Damn, Yoongi,” Eunha laughed, shoving him in the shoulder. “You’re such a shitty boyfriend. I’m so glad I broke up with you.”

“Hey, she said it was fine!” Yoongi said defensively, though he was laughing. “And I broke up with you, for the record.”

“Whatever,” Eunha snorted, picking up the menu from the table. “We should order. This place looks really good. Oh! Yoongi, they have crêpes. Your favourite!”

“Oh, really? Awesome,” Yoongi smiled. You bit your bottom lip, frustrated that you didn’t know that, and even more frustrated that Eunha did. “I’ll have that then, I guess.”

The two friends conversed easily, catching up for lost time. Soon, they began talking about old friends–ones still living in Daegu that you hadn’t even heard of–and you stopped listening. The food arrived shortly after, and you slowly ate your Belgian waffles as Yoongi chatted away.

You watched him devour his chocolate crêpes, and then yell when Eunha snatched a piece with her fork. They looked like the couple, not you and Yoongi, But you bit your lip and said nothing, not wanting to make a scene.

In what felt like hours later, everyone had finally finished their food. Still, neither Yoongi nor Eunha looked like they had intentions of leaving anytime soon. The two of them hadn’t addressed you in the last few minutes, so you played idly on your phone.

“I’m gonna go to the washroom real quick,” Eunha announced, her chair scraping against the floor as she stood up. You winced at the sound. “Be right back!”

Eunha bounced away in search of the restroom. Once she was out of sight, Yoongi turned to you excitedly.

“So what do you think?” he asked. “She’s really fun, right? You should talk more, I think you two would make great friends.”

“Are you being serious, Yoongi?” you hissed, incredulous. “I’m sure she’s a great person, but really? We’re on a fucking date right now.”

“You said it was fine!” Yoongi exclaimed, his smile slipping away. “And I rarely get to see her. Forget that we dated–she’s one of my best friends. You know, it’s hard leaving half my life behind in Daegu. I’m sorry for wanting to see my friends and introduce them to you.”

“It’s not about that, you asshole,” you snapped, standing up. “You can be friends with whoever you want Yoongi. But think about this in my perspective, okay?”

You grabbed your thin jacket from behind your chair. Pulling a bill from your pocket, you threw it onto the table. “That should cover my food,” you said, turning to leave. “I’ll see you later. There’s no point in me staying.”

“Y/N, you’re being ridiculous,” Yoongi growled, his voice deepening angrily. “I don’t understand why you’re–”

“You don’t understand, you never do!” you interrupted. “We’ll talk about this later. Tell Eunha I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to say bye.” With that, you turned on your heel and walked out of the store.

Secretly, you were hoping Yoongi would come after you, but he didn’t.

With nothing to do, you wandered around aimlessly. Eventually, you came across a familiar landmark. There was a small park in the middle of the downtown area. You and Yoongi had been there several times together.

You walked slowly through the familiar setting, coming across a small pond. It was cool outside, so there weren’t as many animals as there were the last time you had came with Yoongi. There was a bench nearby, so you flopped onto it and stared at the blue sky above you, letting your mind wander to anywhere but Yoongi.

Still, you couldn’t help but think about the events that had just transpired. You were angry with Yoongi, but you were even angrier at yourself for being so insecure. Sighing, you pulled your jacket tighter around you and stood up, ready to leave.

“Y/N,” Yoongi panted from behind you, his voice too familiar to miss. You spun around, mouth agape in surprise. “I had no idea where you went. Took me so long to find you.”

“I didn’t think you were going to follow me,” you replied, crossing your arms. Still, seeing Yoongi before you, breathless and sweating in his desperation to find you, dissipated your anger. Sighing, you spoke again. “Look, I’m sorry about earlier. You were wrong to do what you did, but I overreacted and I apologize for that.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Yoongi said with a small smile, moving closer to you. “I realize now that I’ve been pretty shitty. Not just for bringing Eunha on our date, but because I even let you feel any type of jealousy over Eunha.”

“My feelings are my own,” you snorted, uncrossing your arms as Yoongi had a move to hold your hands. You let him, his warm hands completely engulfing your frigid ones. “They’re mine to deal with.”

“No,” Yoongi said, shaking his head. “I’m not good at talking about things like this. But it’s my fault for not telling you how much I love you and how much you mean to me. If I did, you would know that what I feel to you is incomparable to what I feel–or felt–for Eunha.”

“How much you love me?” you teased, although your heart was hammering in your chest. Yoongi had never said that before, and you didn’t either because you didn’t want to pressure him.

“Yes, how much I love you,” Yoongi repeated, his cheeks turning bright red. “I’m sorry I never told you before. But it’s true. I’m sorry I made you think that my feelings for you were anything less than that.”

“Well, you’re forgiven,” you laughed, pressing a quick peck against Yoongi’s lips. “And, for the record, I love you too.”

And, much later, you realized Yoongi had been right. You and Eunha made great friends, and Yoongi was beginning to regret ever introducing the two of you.

- Girl in Luv

Ok…so I was going to make this a Tutor!Yoongi thing, but I’m like 99% sure that’s not what any of the anons were requesting. But if you want a tutoring AU…like let me know. Thanks for requesting to all the people who did! I hope you enjoyed. As always, thanks for reading 💛

//so I was thinking this morning (always a dangerous sign) that I’ve talked a bit recently about how the Tumblr RP community isn’t always very good at encouraging people to find ways to manage or get to their drafts, and is instead more likely to coddle peoples’ anxieties without actually helping them at all. 

So this is a post of a few tips and tricks that might help RPers manage some of the more common anxieties I see crop up in our circle. Now, I’m not a full psychologist and nor am I licensed counselor. But I do have my master’s degree in clinical psychology with the intention to go on for the PhD (or get licensed to practice if I don’t get into a program) so I do kinda know what I’m talking about. Hopefully some of this advice is a little helpful:

1. “My drafts just stress me out.” This is a pretty common complaint, but I think in most circumstances it’s caused by stress going on outside of the RP world. Take a step back and breathe. Handle whatever is going on in your real life. That always comes first. If you come back and your drafts are still causing you to feel panicky, the next step is to find out the more specific reasons why. That’s going to help you best address the anxiety. Read on for some common reasons.

2. “I’ve gotten so behind, there’s so many and I’m overwhelmed.” This happens all the time! You take a hiatus for a week or two, or life just got really busy for a while, or just lost muse and now it’s back. But in the meantime, your drafts have piled up- suddenly you’re looking at 20, 50, 100- how do you even start? 

The best way I’ve found to handle this is to break them up into smaller chunks. It might be helpful to copy and paste your partners’ replies over into one or more word documents. You can then further organize those word documents even more. One for short replies, one for long, one for medium length. Or you can organize by muses, by how long the draft has been in your folder- whichever way you want to handle this. If you want to put one reply per document, you can organize them into folders instead. How you do this is entirely up to you.

Set a small goal for yourself- even one draft a day is better than no drafts at all. But by breaking the work up into chunks, you’ve taken a lot of the pressure off yourself. A goal of 1-5 drafts a day is a lot better than looking at all 50. 

Another tip- use the queue! Or simply keep completed drafts saved in the drafts folder until you’ve caught up enough to start posting. The queue will stagger your posts so replies aren’t coming out all at once, and your partners aren’t able to immediately reply back. And obviously keeping them in drafts even after they’re done lets you have more time to catch up. These are just a couple of tips, however, and there are probably other good ways to manage drafts. Find what works best for you!

And don’t be afraid to drop a couple if you have no muse for those threads anymore. Just let your partner know, they’ll understand. And if they don’t, they’re just an asshole and who needs that, right? It is better to communicate that you’re dropping them, however, so you’re partner isn’t left hanging.

3. “I haven’t replied in weeks, I’m worried my partner hates me.” I guarantee this is not true. Most people in the rp community are very understanding of slow response time. Your partners want to rp with you- they’ll be thrilled to see a response, even if it’s been several weeks. Responding, even slowly, shows a lot more dedication and excitement over your threads. 

So if it’s been several weeks, and you finally have muse for that thread and want to reply to it, but feel guilty or anxious because it’s been so long- reply anyway. Your partner will be so happy to see your response. 

Another way to alleviate this anxiety is to simply talk to your partner. And I know, this can be scary- but sometimes you have to bite the bullet and do the thing that makes you anxious. Take it slow if you need to, but communication is the best way to feel better about it. And I guarantee, you are going to feel so much more proud of yourself if you did the thing that made you anxious than if you didn’t.

That goes for replying as well. 

4. “I feel so inadequate compared to others. I should just stop.” This is an example of what mental health professionals call a “negative automatic thought”, or “NAT”. And like real gnats, these little thoughts get all up in your ears and start buzzing around. They can spiral out of control very quickly, until you feel absolutely terrible about yourself. These thoughts are very common in people with both anxiety and depression. 

But the thing is, they can be changed. You can actually re-wire your brain with a little work so that it won’t think these thoughts quite as often. One of the most effective ways is to simply replace the negative thought with a positive one- even if you don’t believe it. So if your negative thought is “I’m horrible compared to other people,” a replacement thought could be “No, I’m just as good as anyone else,” or “my writing is unique to me and it has value.”

You will not believe yourself at first, and it will seem a little bit weird when you start. It’s also a little challenging- your negative thoughts are automatic, you’re so used to thinking them that you aren’t even fully aware of it it half the time. But when you do catch yourself spiraling off into those negative thoughts- try to stop them. This is something we teach in therapy and over time, it does help. And it does get easier.

5. “It has to be PERFECT.” Perfectionism is at the root of a lot of peoples’ anxieties. But I challenge you with this- why? Why does it have to be perfect? What will happen if it’s not perfect? 

The answer to that, usually, is “my partners will hate me/lose interest/think I’m stupid or a bad writer.” Perfectionism is usually a fear of judgment, and it’s usually fueled by feelings of inadequacy or fears of failure. So to that, I refer you back to the previous advice about negative automatic thoughts. 

Challenge your thinking about your perfectionism. A good replacement thought for this one is “even if it’s not perfect, my partner will still be happy that I responded. My writing is still valuable to them.” Another good one- “imperfection means there’s room to grow. Mistakes don’t mean I’m a failure or no good.” 

In general, don’t let anxiety say “I can’t do this.” You can do it. Anxiety is not a permanent state. The body cannot sustain it very long- the elevated heart rate, heavy breathing, heightened arousal- it’s physically impossible for it to last. Eventually, your body will start to calm itself and even back out. This is something that is very hard to sit with, because your natural instinct is to run away from the thing that’s making you anxious. Your instinct is to close the drafts folder, to close the messenger, to log out of tumblr and ignore it all completely. But the truth is, that only makes your anxiety worse in the long run. 

Now, if these tips don’t help, or you’re finding your anxiety is so bad that it’s affecting your daily life in almost everything- I encourage people to please see a psychologist, psychiatrist, or some other mental health professional. Anxiety that’s chronically preventing you from doing the things you enjoy is anxiety that probably needs treatment. Having the extra support of a therapist or medication often makes it possible to implement some of these strategies, or find better ones that work for you. Especially if you’re having a hard time managing things on your own. 

Anybody that wants to add to this with other ideas that have been helpful to you, please feel free to do so. 

since i recently made myself a twitter account, sometimes find myself reading other people’s replies on my fave’s posts and most of them are really disappointing to be honest? I mean?? your idols take time out of their busy schedules to post and try to connect with their fans and they get replies like that, its really disappointing don’t you think? first thing you see is the plain “I love you’”s the annoying “I don’t understand what you say but I love you

so here are some simple phrases you can use to reply with instead. this is also a good start to learning some korean

대박 - awesome
우와 - wow
진짜요? - for real?
정말요? - really?
아싸! - yey!
잘했어요 ! - Well done!
축하해요! - Congratulations!

즐겁게 보내요! - Have fun!
몸조심하세요 ! - Take care!
행운을 빌어요! - Good luck!

잘생겼어요 - You’re handsome
너무 잘생겠어요 -  you’re so handsome
웃는 얼굴이 아름다워요 - your smile is beautiful
네가 최고야  - you’re the best
멋있어요- you’re cool
보기 좋으세요 - you look good
몸매가 완벽해요- your body is perfect
멋진 스타일이네요 - you have a cool style

푹 쉬어요 - get some rest
잘 자요 - sleep well
굿나잇 - good night
굿모닝 - good morning
잘 잤어요? - did you sleep well?
밥먹었어요? - have you eaten?
맛있는거 많이 먹어요 - eat a lot of delicious food
맛있게 드세요 - enjoy your meal
좋은 하루 되세요 - have a nice day

수고했어요 - you’ve worked hard
항상 응원할게요 - always supporting you
여러가지로 감사합니다 - thank you for everything
그 말을 듣게 되어 유감이에요 - I’m sorry to hear that
조심해요 - be careful
힘내세요 - have strenght
저희 모두 신속히 쾌차하시길 기원합니다 - We hope that you will be up and about in no time
빨리 회복하시길 진심으로 바랍니다 - I hope you make a swift and speedy recovery

if you want to use eonni/oppa/hyung/noona 언니/오빠//누나 you usually place them at the beginning of the sentence. Example: 오빠 기분 좀 나아 졌어요? (oppa, are you feeling better?) for plural form you put example 오빠(oppas) it shouldn’t be but this word is so damn cringy

if you don’t know korean or you’re still learning i suggest following blogs that translate the tweets to english before replying so you know the appropiate thing to reply with.

pt.2

hope you find this useful~

- tyo

The Adventures of Spidey-Prom!

Seriously it’s probably not healthy how much I love Spiderman!Prompto! I didn’t know I needed it until @destiny-islanders drew the freaking CUTEST art for it. Please check it out. It’s good for the soul, trust me.

Anyway, enjoy this little bit inspired by their art! :D HOPE YOU ENJOY!


This is your costume?”

Ignis’ voice rang almost shrilly in the small apartment complex, but Prompto was far too busy checking out the newest wounds to his body to pay much attention to what the man was saying - instead, he puffed out his chest and propped his hands on his hips, admiring the new slim and toned muscles that stood out starkly in the bad lighting.

“It sure is!” Prompto replied boldly, eyes squinting as pride welled in his chest.

So what if those thugs had landed a few hits and made him look like a bruised potato - he’d totally won in the end.

“It’s a cotton sweatshirt.” Ignis replied flatly, his widened eyes were evidence of his complete horror of the aspect as he held up the tattered garment of clothing.

“It’s not just a sweatshirt,” The blond replied, a small pout forming on his face as spun on his feet to swipe away the bloody clothes. “It’s my identity. Every superhero needs one.” He explained readily, ruffling out the sweater to examine the newest tears and ruffles. “It’s a part of me now.” He dramatically hugged the cloth to his chest, a small smirk forming on the edge of his lips as he thought about his most recent venture -

…that…hadn’t gone…exactly as planned…

But he’d still won!

Prompto could visibly see Ignis roll his eyes from the side, the older man reaching up a hand to adjust his glasses in an exasperated show of exhaustion. “Prompto, do you believe the police simply roll out of bed in the morning and seek out the local gangs in a pair of joggers and a sweatshirt? Their attire consists of at least some sort of protection - a bullet proof vest -”

“Pah -” Prompto interrupted with a scoff, waving a hand in front of him. “Last time I checked, cops can’t climb up freaking walls and lift a car without breakin’ a sweat.” The blond propped his hands on his hips and shot Ignis a wink, which the man returned with a twitch of his eyebrow that Prompto had quickly come to realize was onset to a migraine. “‘Sides,” he waved a hand as he tossed back the article of clothing, “I need my costume to be flexible, ya know - gotta make way for these babies.”

Another eye twitch followed when Prompto flexed his arms in the white tank top he was now donning, though he let out a sharp hiss of pain as he grabbed at his newly bandaged arm.

“How formidable.” Ignis replied dully, shaking his head as he stared down at the sweater.

“So are ya gonna sew it or not? I’m probably gonna need it by tomorrow. Duty calls, ya know.”

Ignis’s hands flopped down in front of him as he stared deadpan at the younger man. “You’re not seriously going to do this again -” Ignis cut himself off as he slapped a hand to his forehead before scrubbing it dramatically down his face. “Prompto - you’ve barely a grasp on your abilities, why on earth you are so eager to get yourself killed!?”

“‘Cause a superhero’s work is never done! It’s like Cor said -” He cleared his throat and straightened up to mimic the man, “With great power comes great responsibility. And uh - I’ve got great power now - so might as well be greatly responsible with it and kick some bad guy butt!”

The sound of the buzzing cars outside the tiny apartment complex was the only sound audible as Ignis’s green eyes bore holes into Prompto’s own, and the young man couldn’t help but fidget nervously under the gaze.

After a moment a long, very Ignis-y sigh escaped from the older man’s mouth, the glasses on his face sliding down slightly as he once again stared at the sweater that might as well have been a piece of trash for all the way that he regarded it.

“I cannot believe you’ve worn this for the last three months and survived.” Green-eyes flashed up to Prompto as he held up the sweater. “You’re either brilliant and sufficient, or incredibly stupid and lucky. My bet is on the ladder.” Almond lips pressed together as he made his way over to the small dresser drawer that held various needles and thread.

“Orrr - just super awesome -”

“Or perhaps an utter moron -”

“Could a moron do this!?

“Do - WHA -”

Ignis’s voice was immediately cut off when Prompto skipped over to where he was and effortlessly braced a hand under his back and on his thighs, effortlessly pushing against them to  lift the man above his head with a loud laugh.

“Howd’ya like that - eh, Ignis!?”

PROMPTO! Put me down this INSTANT!” Was his friend’s immediate retort, the struggle that he was giving against him making Prompto’s arms quiver slightly - but not nearly enough to undo his hold.

Prompto barked out another laugh, keeping his arms locked even as Ignis squirmed above him. “Not such a moron now, huh?”

“Prompto Argentum, I swear to the Astrals if you do not set me down in two seconds -!”

“Alright, alright -”

Prompto heard Ignis yelp slightly when the younger man released his grip entirely, stepping back just enough so that he could catch Ignis in his waiting arms, dodging a swipe to his head before he set the man back down on his feet.

“You ever do such a thing again…” Ignis huffed, shooting him a vicious glare as he straightened out his ruffled sleeves.

The blond chuckled, stepping his way back over to the mirror, “So how’s about it - gonna help me? Wanna be my sidekick?” Prompto chippered as if he hadn’t just lifted the taller, more muscular man like a dumbbell. He rubbed his arm slightly as the slight strain had flared the ache in his bruised muscles.

A scoff followed the remark, “I’ll have to pass, thank you.” Ignis replied with a knowing glare in his direction, but, regardless, proceeded to pick up the needle and thread that was situated on the dresser.

“Whelp - position is open if you ever wanna apply!” Prompto replied with a happy smile, turning back to face the mirror.

He wish he could say that the muscles that he now admired in the mirror before him were from the months of hard work, and to be honest, he had been working hard to improve himself for a while now, but this type of improvement wasn’t exactly his doing.

Three months ago was when everything changed. Everything.

He’d been a scrawny kid three months ago - lacking confidence to approach anyone…especially a certain prince-like classmate of his that he’d admired since grade school. It’s not as though they hadn’t known about each other, and Prompto had managed to muster the courage to say hello and introduce himself on the first day of high school, but it was only recently that he’d felt that they’d made significant strides in their relationship when Prompto finally gained the confidence to make it a point to become his friend - and it was going very well.

Prompto was suddenly very glad that Ignis was focused on sewing the sweatshirt as a noticeable flush crawled up the blond’s neck and face - no wait - his entire body.

He’d decided to return the favor the gods had, for some reason, chosen to give him and fight evil in the world in repayment for this new life he was living - and well…yeah that part needed some work, but he was doing his best! Just tonight he’d managed to stop a robbery of a sweet older lady. The thugs hadn’t seen him coming at all - but, unfortunately, Prompto was still a bit shabby when it came to the fighting…so he’d taken home a few bruises and cuts as souvenirs, but he’d still beat their asses, called the cops, and saved the day.

Though, if it wasn’t for Ignis he probably would be in way worse shape - the man was pretty good at dressing his wounds. Ignis had found out about a week ago who he truly was…how the man was able to see through him he’d never know. Prompto still wasn’t sure he believed Ignis’s reasoning of “you’ve been behaving oddly. It seemed the most likely conclusion” - it was like he just knew. Maybe Ignis had his own spidey-sense - either way, despite that, tonight was the first night that Ignis had seen his outfit -

Psh. Who cared what he thought. His outfit was awesome. And…yeah no one would know that was him…right?

If he kept up like this, trained himself a bit - he was certain he’d become an awesome comic book superhero in no time - how hard could it be?

He shook his head, smiling to himself.

He couldn’t believe he was actually having these thoughts.

Three months ago…yeah - everything had changed.

~

Three months ago:

Prompto’s hands clasped behind his back as he stared at the large city around him, eyes squinting slightly at the morning sun that shone brightly down upon the research facility. The group of his high school classmates milled around the entrance to the building, waiting for instruction from their teacher, Mr. Weskham, to allow them in to begin the tour of the arachnid center they were about to visit.

To be honest, he didn’t really care too much about that, he was just hoping that a certain friend of his didn’t over sleep the field trip today.

He adjusted his glasses with his hand as he looked around, bouncing excitedly on his feet as the anticipation to get inside chewed at him.

He loved this stuff. He didn’t like spiders too much…but the tech inside was going to blow his mind - he could feel it. Maybe he’d even get a chance to browse one of their computers - maybe log away a few notes for the one that he was currently building himself.

Psh. Noct was right. He really was a technophile.

Ah, speak of the devil.

Prompto chuckled to himself as he briefly saw what must have been a knowing exchange between him and his father as they talked behind the windows of the flashy car, and a second later the door opened and out stepped Noct - also known as the Prince of Insomnia Inc. He saw the young man toss his dad a look over his shoulder as he straightened out his backpack, and it was with a roll of his eyes that he turned back to make his way up the stairs and away from the car.

Prompto was satisfied to see Noct’s face noticeably morph into something softer and - well - less annoyed as he trotted up the stairs. Prompto tossed him a happy wave which Noct returned with a nod.

“Heyaz!” The blond piped cheerily, his heart thudding in a familiar sense of excitement at the sight of the handsome face.

“Hey.” Noct responded with an easy smile, the typical mellowness of his tone somehow sending another spike of adrenaline through his heart.

“Ready to check out some creepy crawlies?” Prompto wiggled his fingers at the dark-haired teen’s face before he adjusted the camera strap around his neck, falling into a steady pace beside Noct as they walked up the stairs.

“I’m more ready to take a nap.”

“Dude, the lecture hasn’t even started yet.”

Noct let out a loud yawn, stretching his arms out on either side of him. “Exactly.”

Prompto chuckled, pausing slightly as he lifted the camera up to his face to snap a picture of the large building.

Field trip day was always interesting, especially when it involved checking out the nastiest things on earth - Prompto hated bugs, hated them. But he couldn’t deny that he was somewhat fascinated by them as well. Just because they were ugly didn’t mean they couldn’t be interesting, and besides, he was more interested in the technology they were bound to see in the research facility.

~

“Dude…this is the most advanced electron microscope on the Eastern Seaboard…” Prompto’s voice dripped with awe as he stared wide-eyed at the giant device in front of him, his hands fumbling with the camera to snap a few pictures.

“Wow.” Noct mumbled from beside him, clearly disinterested as they followed the voice of the woman ahead of them.

“For example, the delena spider, family sparassidae, has the ability to jump to catch its prey.”

“Eww…” Noct whispered, though his disgust clearly gave way to his curiosity as he leaned forward to observe the spider that the woman was talking about, head tilting as he noticed the little bug do exactly what she described as it jumped from one small twig to the next in its cage.

Prompto chuckled, though he stepped up next to Noct and lifted his camera to his face.

“For the school paper?” Prompto asked, eyes questioning as he looked up at the lecturer.

She offered him a side smile and nodded in permission.

He angled the camera so that he was able to zoom in on the little arachnid - but he grunted when he felt himself shoved from behind, the picture he was about to take snapped a lovely, blurry picture of the small hide instead of the spider.

Prompto furrowed his brows as he looked behind him, noting the obviously satisfied sneer of the blond that stood behind him.

Loqi.

“Leave him alone.” Noct snarled, glaring vehemently at the other blond.

“Or what?” One of Loqi’s lackeys lip curled in challenge.

“Or his father will fire your father.” Loqi sneered, shoving Noct slightly as he got into his face. “What’s daddy gonna do - sue me?”

Prompto almost jumped forward when he noticed Noct’s fist twitch at his side - but he was saved the trouble of holding him back when the dirty-blond was suddenly grabbed by the arm as Mr. Weskham pulled him back, shooting the both of them a harsh glare.

What is going on?” He hissed, glaring at all four of them. When no one answered, his voice darkened in seriousness. “The next person who talks will fail this course. Understood?”  

The four remained silent, but Prompto’s heart skipped a beat when Noct reached behind him and grabbed his arm, pulling him forward and away from the small scene.

“Tsch.” The dark-haired teen scoffed, releasing Prompto’s arm as they made their way around the shelves.

“Those guys are jerks.” Prompto mumbled from beside him, earning a very Noct-like smile in return.

He loved those smiles.

“Yeah.” He mumbled, taking a breath as he looked around them.

Prompto watched as Noct milled around in front of him, bending slightly to look at the small collection of spiders that were neatly stacked in the plastic caging. “Yuuuucckkk…”

Prompto chuckled at the noise, but lifted his camera regardless. “Hey -”

Noct turned to face him, eyebrow quirking when he noticed the camera.

“I need one with a student in it.” Violet-blue eyes sparkled when Noct smiled, making a show of adjusting his tie.

“Don’t make me look ugly.” Noct said, eyes half-lidded with a small smirk as he propped an arm up on the small shelf.

Prompto could feel the heat bloom in his cheeks as he chuckled smally, looking shyly down at his camera as he readied it. “Oh, that’s impossible.” He almost hoped Noct hadn’t heard him, but the smile that his friend gave was evidence enough that he had. “Alrighty…” The blond stepped back slightly, angling the camera by his blushing face so that he captured a good view of the microscope and various arachnids with Noct by the side.

Prompto chuckled as Noct smiled easily for the shot, and he clicked the camera several times to snap the picture. “Alriiigghhhttt -” The blond’s face lit up in another bright smile as Noct posed again, pointing to the various spiders next to him. He knew the pictures he was taking now weren’t necessarily of the spiders or microscope…

Heh. These ones didn’t necessarily have to be in the school paper…

“Argentum! Caelum!”

Prompto and Noct’s head whipped over to where Weshkham stood, arms folded against his chest. They could see the rest of the class a good distance ahead of them.

Noct shot Prompto a look before he reluctantly moved ahead, and Prompto rapidly scrambled to put the cover back on the lens before he made to follow -

“YEEOW!”

The liquid fire pain that shot through Prompto’s hand in that instant was enough to send him stumbling back as his hand whipped back from the sudden, intense pain that tore through it. His face contorted into shock as he grasped at his hand, looking down to see a red circle surrounding white, blotchy skin - with two small dots in the center. His heart beat rapidly as he looked down at the ground - just in time to see a tiny spot of an oddly colored spider scramble away underneath a nearby shelf.

“Shit…” He breathed, brows pinching as the pain circling the bite mark dulled to something hot and numb.

“Chop, chop, Prompto!”

The blond’s head whipped up as he saw Noct a small ways away from him, waving him over with a patient smile.

He waved his hand once, hoping that it would alleviate some of the pain, but Noct’s smile was drawing him forward, and he donned an easy smile as he skipped his way towards his friend -

Doing his very best to ignore the sickening feeling pooling in his stomach and the small pain that was trickling up his arm.

Little did he know that from that moment on, his destiny had completely changed.


Hope you guys enjoyed! I LOVED WRITING THIS! SO MUCH FUN - thank you again to @destiny-islanders for making such awesome art - really made my day. :D

Stay tuned for more adventures with Spidey-Prom! :D

anonymous asked:

um...which one is io? i just saw the movie but i can't remember any of the amazons names except for hippolyta and Diana

This is re: this post, I assume - I wasn’t talking about any movies, sorry for the confusion. As far as I know, Io has never appeared in anything but the comics.

Io is Themyscira’s chief blacksmith in several Wonder Woman runs, and among my very favourite recurring characters over the years. 

I won’t go too much into spoilers, but she has a very intense loyalty and dedication thing going on and her belief in Diana seems endless (which of course makes it all the more painful when it’s tested), and I am predictable. Oh and this one time she stood up to Ares and took him on one on one in a doomed fight to protect this kid who was entrusted to her care, because she takes duty and honour and such very seriously.

She’s also in love with Diana. And though they have a number of Moments, after his departure from the title in 2006 writer Greg Rucka said in a post about some threads that were left hanging that “Io’s love for Diana would have remained largely unrequited, for a variety of reasons, most of which you know.”

Her major appearances (and, notably, her original appearance - with a design by Drew Johnson which you can check out here) were all in issues written by Greg Rucka, and you can find a reading list here. I was thrilled to see her pop up again in the recent run he did - and, over a decade later, be rather more open and straightforward about… stuff.

Home is You, Part 3

Sixteen years old and it was clear to Adrien that distance had only allowed the bond between him and his best friend to grow stronger. No matter how much ocean separated then or how many new people he got to meet, Marinette was still his best friend. It was some sort of irrevocable right, some part of his heart that she had stolen and kept in Paris if for no other reason than to give him a reason to go back home.

It never mattered how much his American friend, Nino, harassed him for it, Adrien would text Marinette relentlessly during the day. Relentlessly.

-You should hear the teacher, right now. She has a voice to rival a cat’s bell.

-Well, you could either have her or my teacher who has the eyes of a hawk.

-Is that why you go quiet for an hour and a half?

-Yup.

“Dude,” Nino commented. “Your girlfriend is going to get you in trouble.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Adrien hissed back.

“Yeah, right. And the teacher doesn’t sound like a cat’s bell.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

How would BTS confess to you after crushing for a long time, Im not sure if this is a reaction or what but I just wanna see their cofessions (I really think yoongi will be really straight forward hhsuah) btw I have a crush on your writings

now you’re just making me blush. thanks! you’re pretty right about yoongi by the way…

note: i needed to use pronouns but i wanted to make it as gender neutral as possible. i’ve used _p_ when a pronoun is required. hope you dont get too confused. 

maknae line here.


Jin

You yawn and stretch as you pad through the quiet apartment. You had had quite a late night the earlier day, what with the boys coming over for an unplanned fiesta and getting quite drunk; the night ending with most of them staggering back to the dorms or the comparatively sober Yoongi dragging them home. Then, of course, there was Jin.

He’d been quieter than usual, and had hardly touched more than one cup. For god’s sake, he’d barely laughed when Jimin nearly fell over trying to imitate the time Jungkook was insanely terrified of girls. It was strange, and this unusual mildness from your best friend did not help with how sleepy you’d been feeling ever since the alcohol was in your system. It was only obvious you would drop off to sleep, and wake up this morning with a stiff neck, courtesy of the couch you’d passed out on.

You sigh with relief as you surveyed the living room. Jin had done you a solid and cleaned up the aftermath from Hurricane Seven Drunk Idiots before leaving the apartment, long after you’d fallen asleep. A small smile grows on your lips as you peel off a post-it from the back of your couch.

You can thank me later. You roll your eyes at the absent Jin, then read the rest of the bright, pink paper. But, first, go to the kitchen.

You frown, then jog to the kitchen. Breakfast? Did Jin make me breakfast?
Honestly, you wouldn’t mind. Jin’s cooking would be a great start to any day. But, when you get to the kitchen, you’re disappointed to find empty counters and a wiped clean kitchen table. What, no steaming stacks of golden pancakes and whipped cream?

You bring your hands to your hips and with an air of despondency, prepare to trudge back to your couch and go back to sleep.

Then, you notice the fridge.

On the fridge door, more of the obnoxiously pink post-its have been stuck, each bearing a letter unmistakably written in Jin’s perfect hand. Together, they spelt out ‘open me’ in huge bold letters.

Curiously, you step forward and tug the door open.

It’s a riot of pink inside. Pink post-its have been stuck on every surface available. No produce or packet had been spared. Already laughing, you plucked a post-it that had been attached to a banana. I find you a-peel-ing, it declared.

You could almost hear Jin’s wheezing laugh in the distance.

There were more. On further inspection, you find a tin of canned pineapples whose post-it said: I pine for you. A whole wheel of cheese, wrapped in cellophane, said:  I’m not trying to be cheesy, but I think we gouda get together. A post-it on a bottle of olives declared: Olive you.

You bite your lip as you read the rest, your laughter dying down as you slowly realise the meaning behind all this. Hesitantly, you find your phone and call the culprit.

“Did you see it?” It’s the first thing Jin greets you with. His voice is easy, but a hint of nervousness sneaks over the phone.

“Yes, I did.”

A pause. Then, quieter: “And?”

You flicked at the cheese post-it. “This isn’t even gouda cheese.”

A noise of annoyance echoes through the speaker. “The store downstairs didn’t have any– _____! I’m trying to confess to you!”

You bite back a laugh and sink into a seat, your heart singing. “I know, Jin. I know. And-” You hold the phone a bit closer to your ear, a small blush dusting your cheeks. “I’m glad you did it like this.”

Trust Jin to confess using produce puns.

Originally posted by bwiseoks

Suga

“Yoongi? What are–”

You barely finished your sentence before Yoongi wordlessly swept past you into your apartment with a fierce look of determination.

You stood at the door, mouth half open in middle of your incomplete enquiry.“O…kay?” You shut the door after a moment of confusion, then follow him to the living room, where he stands with an air of sufferance. All you can see is his hunched shoulders and lithe back facing you. “Yoongs? What’s–”

“What-” He raised a hand to rub at his chin, slowly turning on one heel. “is happening to me?”

You blink. “I’m not sure I–”

“Because I’ve heard about this before, you know. The heart fluttering and the violins playing and the light pouring from the heavens and stuff. All I can think about all day is dates and holding hands and -for god’s sake- pets we could own together.”

Yoongi rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “And when I tell Jimin, he says I’m in love.” He moved his hands to his hips in defeat. “Love!” 

He paused, probably for a breather after that endless tirade, but before you could gather your thoughts long enough to speak coherently, he sighed and folded his arms against his chest. “I thought it was ridiculous, but then…today– today I was in the studio supposedly working on something for the album–” He raised his eyes to yours, and the sincerity in them send a little shoot of surprise down to your bones. “And I realized that I was writing a love song. It wasn’t even lyrics, but– but it reminded me of you. All I could think of was the way you call me Yoongs or how glad I am to see you when I come back from tour or–  or how much I loved you.”

Yoongi bit his lower lip, then shrugged helplessly. “Then I had to come and see you. And tell you all this.” He sighed and raised his fingers to his temples, closing his eyes. “You don’t have to answer, especially if you don’t feel the same way. But I had to tell you this…Because it’s the first time I’ve felt this way.”

You realise your mouth is hanging open and shut it, then debate for a moment before walking over to Yoongi. You take hold of his hands and thread your fingers through his, bringing your nose close to his so you can make sure he sees you while you replied. You grinned when you see him blush just a little bit. “Funny. I’ve been feeling this way quite a bit recently too.”

Originally posted by allforbts

Hoseok

“So,” Hobi bounced into the couch and passed you the bowl of buttery, delicious smelling popcorn before settling in himself. “There’s this person I like.”

Your hand froze on the remote you were just putting down after pressing play. The loud sounds of the action movie Hobi had picked out began assaulting your eardrums. “Oh?”

Hobi hummed in agreement. You fix your eyes on the screen, pretending that the cheesily dramatic dialogue was the only thing on your mind right now. Trying your best to sound only mildly interested, “Do I know them?”

He shrugged and reached out for a handful of popcorn. “Maybe. But once you do, you can’t forget them. They’re amazing. They’ve got this laugh, I swear it could cure humanity. They’ve got the softest hands and the kindest eyes, and sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever like someone this much again.” Hobi stopped midmotion. “But there’s this problem.”

Heart racing as fast as the artillery guns on screen, you swallow. “Oh?”

Hobi placed his chin into the palm of his hand. “I haven’t told them yet. I don’t know how to.”

You realize he’s asking you for advice. “You…haven’t told them?”

“No. But I want to.” Hobi sat up and searched around for his phone. “Should I text them?” He held the phone up and waved it at your face.

You swallow and tear your eyes away from the instrument of doom back to the raging battle on TV. “Sure.”, you said, struggling to sound nonchalant. “Text them.”

Hobi sat back and raised his phone to his face. You half expected him to ask you what exactly he should say to confess his love to someone else (you didn’t think you would survive that) before he put his phone down barely a few seconds after he’d begun to text.

You were about to ask him what was wrong (not that you were hoping that something was wrong), just when your phone pinged.

Almost absentminded, you swipe at your phone languidly. One new text. Just three letters. An almost insignificant ‘hey’.

But it was from Hoseok. And that made all the difference.

You looked up at Hobi, who hid a close-lipped and knowing smile behind a few fingers as he judged your reaction.

You turned red and squeaked, barely able to form words. “Oh.”

Originally posted by jaayhope

Namjoon

You smile as you spot Namjoon pacing across the steps of the public library where he’d asked you to meet him, a lanky but gorgeous figure making its way back and forth on the marble steps.

You bounded up the few steps and sneaked up behind him. “Be careful, or you’ll pace a hole through the marble stairs.”

Namjoon yelped and jumped nearly a foot in the air. What seemed to be little squares of blue paper flew out of his hands and all around the two of you, creating a mini blue snow snowstorm.

Namjoon whipped around and froze. “______! You scared m–”  He stopped mid-sentence and stared in horror at his feet, where most of the blue papers had settled. Flashcards, you realised with growing interest.

Obviously.” You rolled your eyes and crouched, preparing to collect the flashcards.

“No, don’t–”

But the damage was already done. For the very first card you picked off the ground itself told you what Namjoon had been struggling to tell you ever since he knew.

The cards were written all over in his scrawling handwriting, the marking of a genius in every stroke and curve. But the words the cards bore caught your attention, they set the blood rushing to your face.

- tell _____ about _p_ hair, how soft it looks and how badly you want to be the one who could run his hands through it whenever he wanted 

- tell ____ about adorable you think it looks when it gets cold and _p_ face turns red 

- tell ____ how much you want to be the one _p_ can come home to after a long day at work

- tell _____ how much you want to hold _p_ and tell _p_ you love _p_ instead of just standing by and imagining it

There was more, nearly hundreds of these scribbled out on nearly half a dozen or more little blue cards, now in your hands. You laugh when you see a small scrawl in the corner of one card, reminding Namjoon to ’maybe kiss ____?’

You look up and blink, realising there are tears in your eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me straight away, you dork?”

He swept a tear away from the corner of your eye with the pad of his thumb. “I didn’t think I could.”

You shake your head, a smile stretching itself on your lips. “And…are you going to maybe kiss me now?”

A grin matching your own settles on his face. “I’m going to definitely kiss you now.”

Originally posted by rapnamu


maknae line here

Cas being relegated to questioning the victim’s six year-old daughter because Dean and Sam don’t want him freaking out her widowed mother. 

Dean walking into Danielle’s room forty-five minutes later to find both her and Cas deep in conversation while working on some crayon drawings. He’s decked out in a sparkly tiara and drawing a gorgeously detailed unicorn while she works on what appears to be a T-Rex. They’re idly chatting about dinosaurs, and it takes a second for Dean to figure out that Castiel is talking about how lovely the diplodocus’s singing voice was. 

“But how do you know?” Dani says. 

“Because I was there,” Cas answers. 

She considers this for a moment before nodding like she knows he’s old, so it makes sense. "So… What was the dipo-diplo–“ 

"Diplodocus." 

"Yeah, what was their fav'rit song?" 

"Hmm.” Cas purses his lips. “It’s difficult because there were so many, and everybody had a favourite, but I would have to say… most likely: The Very Gentle Giant. That was very popular in the late Jurassic." 

"Woah." 

"Indeed. I’d sing it for you, but human vocal chords would butcher it." 

Dean, leaning against the doorjamb, takes the lull in conversation to clear his throat. It’s a losing battle to stop himself from smiling. "You ready to go, Agent?" 

Castiel looks up and grins back. "Of course.” He gets up and very carefully removes his tiara, stooping to put in on the low table and sign his drawing. “Well, Dani, it was a pleasure to–oof!”

Dani’s little arms attempt to wrap around Castiel’s legs. 

“Thanks for teaching me ‘bout the dinosaurs!” 

“Any time,” Cas says. “And don’t forget to call me if you remember anything, alright? Or if you get scared.”

“’Kay.”

On the way out of the house, Dean grabs Cas’s hand, tugging him back while Sam gets into the car. He plays with Castiel’s palm as the recently-turned-human frowns. “Dean?”

“Yeah,” Dean replies. He threads their fingers together and squeezes, leaning in to peck him quickly on the mouth. They normally never touch like this while on interviews, so Cas blushes profusely at the contact. 

“What was that for?” he mumbles, dazed as the pads of his fingers move up to graze his own lips. His smile is so goofy, Dean can’t help grinning back.

“Nothing,” he shrugs. Now his cheeks flush. “You just, ah, you just looked real good in there, that’s all. Great job with the kid.”

“Oh, um, thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

They hold hands all the way to the car.

2

This blog is primarily about my art, with a little of my politics.

Recently A GW staff member who disliked my politics and who had trolled my personal art posts with his disdain and was then blocked, decided the mature response was to collate my GW fan art into a single post to mock and deride it
as ‘The worst series of images on the entirety of this site’ (note the blog he posted this on, had images of him in his GW uniform)
I alerted his employers that he was being an asshat to company customer base. And its my understanding that they cautioned him.

After that he decided to go public and ‘DARVO’ about the issue painting himself as the poor victim who did nothing worse then dislike my art.
I decided that I needed to protect my rep, so I wrote a lengthy post (now below the cut)  

If you are reading this, you have no reason to believe ‘my side, theirs or the middle’ The only thing I can do is ask you to consider which is more likely, that a complaint was made and the company took action, or that I have insider contacts and after 14 years as a professional artist, cant handle criticism.

I have no interest in pursing this further, and my blog remains as always about my art with a little of my politics.

Keep reading

Would you do being betrothed to robb and him meeting you and being completely in love with you from the start? Then maybe telling him you’re pregnant, like a time skip or something?

Meeting the man you were expected to marry and have children with was the most daunting thing about life, and your time had finally come. After years of teasing your sisters when it was their turn, it was now you, and the nerves had built so much in recent weeks, you were barely eating. You’d heard things like ‘you’ll grow to love him’, and ‘it’ll work, just give it time’, but that’s not what you wanted, if you didn’t feel a connection straight away then what was the point?

Your parents had talked to you on many occasions, warning you of the consequences of what could happen if you were to turn down the man chosen for you, and you’d definitely got the message that it would be very bad. Even if you had doubts, you’d have to hide them for your family’s sake, and for them you’d do anything.

“Come on, come on, we mustn’t be late,” your mother fusses, lacing up your corset tighter than it should be.

“I can’t breathe!” you gasp.

“Oh, you’re fine. Come on now, your father’s waiting.”

She walks out of your room and you take one last long look into your mirror with a deep breath. You study your face, young but a little tired, then your hair, neatly brushed back from your face so your future husband could see you properly. You reach around to the back of your head and feel the ornate clip that holds it all in place, then your hand drops down to your dress, smoothing the front of it down. It was a deep green colour, taken from your family’s crest, mixed with golden strands of thread running along the edges, and you did look pretty, enough for a man to notice you anyway.

“(Y/N)! Hurry up!” your father shouts.

“Coming!” you call back, tucking some hair behind your ear.

The journey was long, and you were sure that by the time you got there your appearance would be a mess after being thrown around in the back of the carriage for hours. When you approached the gates to Winterfell, your heart started racing, and as soon as you saw the family lined up in the courtyard, awaiting your arrival, you suddenly couldn’t bring yourself to move.

“What are you doing?” your mother whispers from outside the carriage.

“I can’t… I…”

“Give me your hand,” she soothes. You reach out for her and she gently tugs on your hand to help you slide out of your seat and step out into the courtyard.

“Lord Stark, it is my pleasure to introduce to you my daughter…” your father begins, but his words drown out as you look up into the face of the man you were promised to. You could have sworn he bit his lip a little before he gave you a warm smile, and you found your heart racing again, except not from nerves this time.

Before you know it, you’re both being ushered inside for a decadent meal in celebration of the two families coming together. You’re sat next to your future husband, now finally given the chance to talk to the man, and his gaze is almost constantly fixed on you, even as he eats.

“Lady (Y/N), I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from you this evening,” he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips graze your ear. You close your eyes and squeeze your legs together tightly, the thoughts going through your mind right now definitely not appropriate for a family banquet.

“Lord-”

“Robb, please,” he smiles.

“Then it’s just (Y/N) to you, Robb,” you smile back, the crimson shade on your cheeks getting deeper.

“Were you as apprehensive about this meeting as I was?”

“More so, I think,” you reply.

“And how do you feel now?” he asks. You look up at his perfect curls, then down to his warm eyes and devilishly handsome smile.

“Better,” you exhale, “much better. And you?”

“Lucky,” he grins, “very lucky.” He was absolutely smitten from the second you shakily made your way out of the carriage. You didn’t even have to speak and he knew he’d be able to listen to you talk to him for the rest of life. His worries had completely melted away as soon as he laid eyes on you, and he couldn’t believe how lucky he’d been to have you as his chosen bride.

The meal soon descends into slight chaos, the drink having flowed a little too freely, and Robb takes his opportunity to steal you away from the room, taking your hand and leading you away to a different part of the castle. He opens a door to your left, then gestures for you to enter, and you’re taken aback by the lit candles scattered around, bathing the room in an orange glow.

“What’s this?” you gasp as you enter, Robb following close behind.

“I had something set up, just in case it was a good match,” he smirks.

-

It had been a few months since your wedding night, and your passions hadn’t been dampened. As Robb was attending to business with the growing army he was forming, you were laid up in bed on rest after coming over unwell the night before. A doctor had been called and you’d been examined, your belly poked and prodded around until the diagnosis was clear; you were pregnant. It filled you with joy, a little worry as well, but mostly excitement about telling Robb.

You get out of bed and dress yourself before he gets back, trying to think of the best way to tell him, but he comes through the bedroom door just as you’re changing, and has other things on his mind.

“Now this is a sight I needed to see,” he purrs, wrapping his hands around your waist.

“Robb, darling, I need to-”

“I need to say something,” he interrupts, “you’re so beautiful. My love for you grows each day, and I look forward to waking up next to your body every day for the rest of my life.”

You open your mouth to reply, but end up smiling instead, his words leaving your speechless. He’d always had a way with words, expressing his feelings to you daily, and usually left you in a stunned silence.

“Robb, I-”

“You don’t need to say anything my love,” he whispers as his hands start to roam your body, pushing your dress back down your arms with ease as you hadn’t had time to do it up yet. He steps back to admire your naked body, then drops his cape and starts to undo his shirt.

“Robb, wait-”

“Is everything alright my sweet?” he asks, letting his shirt fall to the floor. Your eyes roam his torso, desperately wanting to reach out to him, but you know if you do that, you’d never get out what you wanted to say.

“Darling, give me your hand,” you smile, stepping towards him. He looks at you a little confused, then extends his arm out towards you and you take his hand, pulling him forwards to reach your stomach. Both of you lift your gazes from his hand on your belly to each other’s faces, then he realises as your grin gets wider what you’re trying to say.

“No,” he gasps in disbelief, dropping to his knees in front of you, “you are with child?”

“Yes,” you laugh as both his hands caress your stomach, his fingers exploring your skin as if he’d feel the baby inside. He kisses your belly over and over, making you laugh even louder, then he stands up to scoop you into his arms.

“Then my lady shall not walk anywhere, she shall be carried!” he proclaims, stepping towards the bed and placing you gently down on top of it.

“Is that right?” you grin.

“It is. And my lady shall have pleasure daily to keep her satisfied,” he adds, crawling over your body.

“Being married to you is a pleasure,” you smile.

anonymous asked:

Hey is it okay if I request Nadia telling a female apprentice to take care of herself? Like the apprentice has overworked herself and Nadia belatedly realizes everyone (including herself) has been asking something from the apprentice and the apprentice has been doing everything without voicing out if shes bothered or not feeling well?

[pressure]

Pairing: Nadia/F!Apprentice
Rated: General
Word Count: 909

[more arcana fics]


She looks exhausted. 

Nadia watches her from across the room, watches the way the sunlight catches her face and filters down her lashes, accentuating the dark shadows beneath her eyes. She hardly seems to be listening to the surgeon who is speaking to her about something in low tones, her gaze drifting off, blinking to try and keep her lids from lowering. 

When she starts to sway on her feet Nadia finally moves, closing the distance between them with a few long strides and the surgeon almost startles at her stern approach.

“Countess,” they mutter, bowing their head as a greeting but Nadia has already dismissed them from her attention, her eyes aimed solely at the apprentice who is giving her a questioning look.

“Will you join me for a walk?” Nadia asks her with the offer of a hand, and the apprentice glances down at it with hesitation before she slowly hooks her fingers in Nadia’s and allows Nadia to guide her away.

“Where are we going?” she asks, her voice soft as Nadia leads her out of the room into the corridor, and even further than that.

“Away from here,” Nadia says, shifting her grip so she can twine their fingers together and hold it close to her, the apprentice’s shoulder bumping into hers and she enjoys this closeness, the warmth and the presence of having her by her side. 

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anonymous asked:

Hello my dear mischievous friend! can i ask you to write a little something for me, when you have time? Ron is the one thing Harry would miss most in GOF, i was wondering can you write about him talking to Harry about "leaving" this role to Ginny? thank you :)

A/N: I kinda played around with this prompt but it’s got some quality brotp time where they definitely discuss Ron being the thing Harry would miss most.  Hope you like it :)  Also, does it count as posting it the day I said I would if its technically the next day but I haven’t gone to sleep?

Also available on FF and Ao3!


Essential

Harry nodded his thanks to the departing healer before turning his attention back to his battered and bruised partner whose eyelids were beginning to droop.  “Alright Ron?”

Ron smiled goofily, attempting to deliver a cheeky salute and nearly putting his own eye out in the process.

Biting back a snicker at Ron’s indignant expression, Harry shuffled around the bed, slipping his dusty over-robes from his shoulders, draped them over the stiff plastic chair, and dropped into the torturous seat.

As soon as they’d arrived at St Mungo’s – after checking Ron in with a Healer – Harry’d flooed Hermione at her hotel in Switzerland.  She’d gone to consult on some new piece of legislation the Swiss ministry was promoting, partially inspired by some of Hermione’s more recent work with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

Follwing his brief explanation, she’d disappeared from the green flames in a flurry of bushy hair, barely pausing to disconnect.  While she worked on getting fast track approvals to get back to the British Ministry, Harry dutifully stayed with a less than lucid Ron.

The aforementioned best mate was currently studying his hands, apparently aghast at the concept of fingers if his entranced expression and low exclamations were any clue.

Grinning to himself, Harry stood at the foot of the nondescript bed, toying with the chart that listed Ron’s injuries and medical history.  “So, Hermione is trying to get back.”

Ron’s brow furrowed for a moment, eyes glazed before he nodded jerkily, “That’s good mate.”

“Should I contact the family?”

“Sure,” Ron said with a shrug, eyelids drooping again.

Delivering a comforting pat to Ron’s blanket covered foot – or possibly ankle – Harry made to leave, “I’ll floo Ginny and ask her to pass things along, maybe you’ll be asleep by the time the circus arrives.“

Ron laughed, fiddling with the scratchy white sheet.  “Harry?”

Pausing with his hand on the door, Harry invites him to continue with a curious arched brow.

“Y’remember fourth year?”

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JuminZen week

Day 1: Secrets // Mutual Pining

So I’m taking part in JuminZen week! All the stories are going to be part of a sort of series I guess, so this is the beginning! I hope you enjoy the short stories I’ve written! 

Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

(2,848 words)

The RFA party was definitely coming to a close as the last few guests started making their way to the exit. Zen looked over at MC who was smiling, happy with herself as she looked over the guest list for a final time that night. He couldn’t blame her slightly smug expression- the party had been quite spectacular and he didn’t doubt that’s what Jaehee and Saeyoung were currently informing her as the two happily smiled by her side. It was the first party she’d actually managed to attend even though she’d been in the RFA for a year now. Her and Saeyoung were busy finding Saeran when the last one she planned occurred.

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anonymous asked:

pharmercy prompt - just fluffy cuddling on the couch after a long day

My day got real bad real quick so I’m so glad that I didn’t do this prompt earlier. I think everyone needs a little fluff in their life.


It is the smallest couch in the base, surely. A love seat that had been abandoned in the hallway, and later moved into Fareeha’s dorm upon reinstatement.

Fareeha is confident no one misses it. She is not entirely sure how it came to be at the base to begin with, though if her mother is to be believed, it was purchased by Gabriel Reyes to liven up the atmosphere. And liven it does:

It is purple with silk threaded patterns. Loud does not begin to describe this particular piece of furniture.

It is also uncommonly comfortable.

Fareeha groans as she opens the door to her room, throws her travel bag in a corner to be dealt with later, flops on the couch.

It has been a long day, a long week, dragging a little more, a little longer - there is a hole in her abdomen not quite healed, from a well aimed bullet and a poorly executed dodge. Lúcio, her partner on this mission, had healed it as best her could, but it still burns.

Mostly, she is grateful he was not injured; the mission had been poorly planned and executed even worse - it could have gone south, and it hadn’t by sheer grace of retreat.

Fareeha hates retreating, though if everyone is able to walk away … she supposed that in and of itself is a small victory.

Fareeha breaths deeply, digs in her pants pocket for her communicator and looks for Angela’s number. She is the most recent contact. It is easily located.

I am back. She types out, presses send. A few moments later, a reply:

I’m still in the lab. Can I drop by later?

It seems only fair that Angela would still be busy. And aching, the onset of a headache, feeling tired and a little miserable, Fareeha types:

That’s fine. I will leave the door unlocked. And tosses the communicator on the bed.

She doesn’t intend to fall asleep, the lull of the broadcaster on the TV, the hum of the light above her, the weight of the day, all seem to work in tandem though, and soon she is; one leg thrown over the end of the couch, the other hanging off the side. Her arm is draped over her eyes.

She doesn’t even hear the door open.


Angela’s eyes are strained from looking through her glasses (her contacts dried out the other day, she forgot to put them in solution) her hair is disheveled; Fareeha being back is a saving grace.

When Fareeha is gone and no one is there to distract her, she works too much, for far too long. There always seems to be something to do and never quite enough time to do it.

When Fareeha is around, her desire to work is tampered by her desire to do … other things, and so she packs up early, makes her way to Fareeha’s, opens the door.

She expects to find Fareeha awake, but doesn’t.

In fact, the other woman looks utterly worn out. There are new cuts, bruises, a black eye Angela isn’t fond of. Against the harsh light of the fluorescent bulbs above, all of this is laid out for Angela and she sighs to think of what Fareeha has been through.

Angela moves to turn off the TV, goes to the bathroom to pull out the first aid kit and then returns.

She pats Fareeha’s calf, is surprised when she doesn’t immediately stir. Fareeha is not a heavy sleeper.

“Fareeha,” she says; this does the trick. Fareeha blinks once, twice, retracts her legs to give Angela room to sit. “You look awful,” Angela tells her. Fareeha smiles behind the exhaustion.

“You don’t,” she replies, grabs Angela’s hand to place a kiss in her palm. Angela smiles in spite of herself and shakes her head.

“Is this all of it?” She asks, referring to the injuries, but they both know. Fareeha wordlessly lifts her shirt to show Angela the bullet hole, other minor injuries. Angela, sensing more, runs her hand over the waistband of Fareeha’s pants, tugs it down a bit and sees more there, too, running down her hip, presumably to her thigh.

“You are being very forward.” Fareeha grins, looks her in the eyes in challenge. Angela meets her on that battlefield. Blue so firm it looks steel.

“Take them off,” she tells Fareeha. Whether it is defeat that moves Fareeha or genuine affection, she winks, shimmies out of her pants, takes off her shirt, sits in front of Angela in only her bra and underwear.

Nothing is particularly life threatening. Lúcio is a good medic and he’s tended to everything to keep anything from festering. Still, it is good to be on top of these things. Angela ignored the image of literally being on top which flashes into her mind, and blames Fareeha entirely for exposing her to too many puns and double entendres.

Angela opens the first aid box, removes a sterile cloth and some ointment to stop infection.

Fareeha sits on her half of the couch as Angela dabs here and there. The cold medicine sends goosebumps up her exposed flesh and the ache and fatigue of the week cause her to slouch just a bit.

“I take it it did not go well,” Angela says quietly as she works.

“I wish that it had gone better,” Fareeha replies, somewhat vaguely. In truth, she is only trying to spare Angela. The doctor does not need to know the specifics of their failure to know that had it gone worse, maybe someone would not have returned.

Or, perhaps Angela already knows this, and Fareeha is just trying to avoid reminding her.

When Angela is done she places the kit on the ground, and falls into Fareeha, satisfied when the other woman puts an arm around her shoulders and squeezes lightly.

It has always amazed Angela how warm Fareeha is, even dressed down.

“How was your week?” Fareeha finally asks.

“Long,” Angela replies, turns in Fareeha’s arm to smirk a bit and then adds: “but better now.” Fareeha grins.

There is a lot Angela wants to talk about; a lot she has accomplished this week, but when she looks back and Fareeha the other woman’s eyes are closed, her head lulled back against the top of the couch back, her breathing is even and long, and Angela is not opposed to waiting.

She ducks out of Fareeha’s arm, grabs the blanket off the bed, and then returns, draping it over them both and snuggling close.

This is her favorite part of long days, the closeness and the security. Even on a cramped couch (hideous as they come).

It is worth everything to Angela.


At some point, Fareeha wakes up with a cramp in her neck to find Angela pressed into her side, snoring lightly, a blanket over them both, and it is fortunate for her that Angela is not only light but also a deep sleeper.

She picks her up, lays her on the bed, turns off the light and then joins her.

When she sleeps, it is soundly for the first time all week.

Fic: A little warlock TLC

Prompt fill for a prompt I got on AO3 about a week ago:

“  If I may I would like to leave a prompt with you. Something like a sick/injured Alec and an attentive/caring Magnus! If you can’t or won’t that’s perfectly fine, just needing a lift me up with our boys. Thanks!!!

So, here you go - 3.5 k words of sick Alec, caring Magnus and tons of fluff. You have been warned, now enjoy reading :)


Word count: 3491 | Read on AO3


Dating a shadowhunter was not something Magnus Bane would recommend. At least that was what he said whenever one of his friends – whether shadowhunter or downworlder – asked him. Endless patrols, risky missions and countless work shifts that either started or ended in the middle of the night. Not something to really look forward to – at least as far as relationships with shadowhunters in general were concerned.

However, dating Alexander Lightwood was most definitely one of the best decisions Magnus had ever made – for so many reasons. But most definitely also for the fact that he was the only one who got to witness what an absolutely adorable grump the Head of the New York Institute could be before his first coffee of the day.

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anonymous asked:

Hey love,I'm not sure if request are open, but if they are I have one. Something with Gabe or Genji x s\o, where they share a room. s\o's been gone on a mission for a while and they get back late at night when everyone else is still asleep. Not wanting to wake up Gabe (or genji) and knowing they will fi they try to sneak into the room, they take up a spot on the couch and sleep there for the night. But Gabe (or Genji) wake up early that morning and find them, curled up on the sofa.

Gabriel

You were carefully picked up and carried back to bed as Gabriel went about his morning routine, no different than if you were wounded, your cheek pressed to the flat of his chest until you were set down in the unmade nest of blankets. Satisfied that he had made you comfortable, head cradled by his pillow and comforter pulled up to your collar, the scent of him heavy on the sheets, he carried on washing and dressing.

You woke as he was pulling his sweater on, sleeve by sleeve, slipping the slate grey fleece of his uniform up his back and shoulders. Blind hypersensitivity told him to look over his shoulder, catching you peering at him from your sleepy-haze. He closed in on the bed as you continued to stir, metallic zip of the sweater fixed and pulled up his body as he moved. Crouching low on the floor, becoming eye-level with you on the mattress, he blinked slowly as tension settled over his shoulders in retroactive anxiety. Only after a brief appraisal of your expression, finding necessary evidence that you were unharmed while away, was he able to relax. Little by little. He took his time to find his voice, lost in the overwhelming relief of your hand skimming his neck and laying flat against the top of his spine. Under your fingers, you could recognize that he had just recently showered. His skin was damp, hot.

“Next time— come to bed.” He said, a thread of concern pulled at each word.

You wanted to dispute— to explain that you didn’t want to wake him, that it was late when you got back— but knew he could read it over you. He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead and pulled away just enough to speak over the skin, his dark eyes cut by the first rays of the rising sun and lips warm, not without the faint bitter chocolate aroma of coffee.

“I sleep better when you’re with me.”


Genji

Genji had no intention of falling asleep the previous night in the first place under the expectation that you could have walked through the door at any moment. The first few moments of consciousness were unkind, the early morning air cold in his lungs through the carbon fiber mask. His disappointment to find an empty bed was short-lived as his pulse quickened, assured by his blood that while he did not see you, you were near. He felt this and knew better than to question his instincts.

Rising from the bed in a deliriously smooth movement, his feet met the floor with the quietest of sighs— the song of air rushing through his cybernetics. He crossed the floor, nerves alight, finding you curled into yourself along the low sofa.

And while he could gauge just how exhausted you were— how much the assignment took out of you, the immense physical and mental burden it could be— he was taken with how unbearably much he missed you. He acted immediately as if weakened, his own impulse control still dead asleep. Like a cat, he fitted himself around you leaving you to wake up in the process of the cyborg ninja not so stealthily taking up what little was left of the the narrow space.

Your forehead met the high curve of his face plates, your nose brushed against the bar of green luminescence that scored his helmet. Speaking though a sly half-smile, his voice was both low and electric.

“Good morning.”

Not yet ready to wake up, you made a noise of protest in response before nuzzling your face closer, the familiar scent and temperature of his body becoming the first thing your senses registered without strain. In voiceless agreement, he secured his arms around you, offering you all the comfort and closeness you had ached for while apart.

And while his armor was not the most comfortable surface you’ve ever slept against, it was by far your favorite.

I hope I’m logged into my tumblr account correctly. ‘Off anon’ for this because I don’t see a need to be anon. I’ve also been given the green light by head mod of the thread to post this. (The thread is not all that dramatic. Just a handful [I think only three so far, actually] are acting up and making this way worse than it is. This post is about one user.)

We’ve seen scammer IA floating around the 100k Give and Get thread, right? Well, here are all the screenshots. For your viewing pleasure.

It all starts when they hit up the thread asking if players would take x item that is not on their wishlist. You only have to go to the thread and put in their username and set it to most recent - it’s their first two posts there. (Topic ID# = 2263319, if you’re having trouble finding the thread. I’m assuming this is okay since it’s just a thread, not a post link, dramaadmin/dadmin!)

Anyways. They claim two users within hours, seen here.

These two posts are still visible in the thread, by the way. No editing to state that they’ve sent any gifts at all, too, which is a rule of the thread. Obviously, I’m a mod of the thread, so I respond to one of the two users that IA claimed that requested assistance with this issue. They say that IA never sent them anything, so I go and send a PM to IA to try and work out the issue. (I had also asked them about their raffle a month or two ago just to see the response, so that’s where the part where I mentioned their raffle came from. It was more of a jab at their current ‘scam’.)

It was really long, I know, but I didn’t think I’d get a response like this:

Umm? That answered … nothing? I PM them back to reclarify. The two blocked out usernames are of course the people they apparently didn’t send anything to.

And guess what I get as a response? An 'oblivious’ excuse.

This is no excuse. I clearly told them that below:

I get no response whatsoever, and I check the next day and IA has all dragons fed and is clearly active in the forums. They are obviously ignoring me and being a jerk about it. The two users don’t get their gifts either; if you find 'SP’, you can see a message exchange between IA and them. SP is pretty chill - they just brushed the issue off and basically said, “Hey, just don’t do it to anyone else. You can just pay me whatever’s left to make up for it and we’re cool. That way the mods won’t be on you so much anymore.” IA thinks they can get away with it. They said: “Oh, well, I’m talking to one of the mods about just claiming another user later.” What. The. Heck. So first you don’t even try to make up your gifts to those two players, but you try to scam another one? Lowball move, IA.

The user that asked for assistance in the first place sent me a screenshot of the gifts that IA sent them before the 24-hour deadline to send gifts rule was broken, but the items were all junk, under 20kt each, and they didn’t even add up to 100kt. I send them a PM about this with a deal to resolve the issue as soon as possible.

They don’t reply to this either. Despite being active. I get thoroughly sick of this and confront them publicly on their user profile about claiming another player and not responding to me. I wasn’t able to get a screenshot of the confronting message I sent them, because IA deleted it, but this is a paraphrase: “You know, claiming another user doesn’t erase the fact that you undergifted two users. Just send a proper gift to the two undergifted users before claiming another one and there won’t be any problems.” You know, logic. Well, IA seems to have a huge problem with that.

Just because you claim to have 'paid’ well over 100kt doesn’t mean it’s worth that much, because both I and the undergifted user checked the LAH prices and they sure didn’t slip that far as to have been totaling a 40g difference in the few hours between the send time and the check time. I am just really sick and tired and at the end of my string with IA’s antics right now, so I respond. Please note that the bottom two messages (the first two that I sent) are now gone, and possibly the third one too, because IA’s trying to cover their tracks.

IA’s trying to act smart and is still not providing any screenshots.

Pfft. Way to check before you start talking.

At this point, IA is probably just really mad that they got caught, so they just shut up and do a self-ban from the thread (hallelujah!):

(They got a quirk from having trouble with the ’t’ and 'y’ keys on their keyboard, apparently, so that’s why they use + just in case you were wondering.) It still doesn’t fix the undergifting problem.

IA’s pretty ticked, so their last word on the thread is still here:

Yes, they spelled aggressive wrong. I don’t hear from them again. But the mod that they had contacted to try and claim another user to fix their 'mistake’ replied with a negative because that’s obviously not how it works.

This is the part where they take a hint. Well, we all know that IA isn’t going to do what they should.

We’re all relieved that you’re gone, but … the issue is not fixed.

Once again, IA proves that they’re a whiny, scammy baby.

They’re banned from the thread, so you shouldn’t see them anymore. Thanks for reading on .