to burn up books you got to have some books to burn up

Beard Burn

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve likes to grow his beard out between missions, and you think its sexy.  He wants to know why you think so, then he gets turned on. (it’s just smut)

A/N: inspired by the goddamn soft!bearded!steve board.  y’all….just let me live. also i need to learn how to title things.  i called it fucking “beard burn.” @ myself come on…

Warnings: oral sex (fr), language

Words: 2148

Tags: @daybreak96 @feelmyroarrrr @jimtkirkisabitch 

Part Two

(this gif made me wet tbh)


Steve glances up over his book at the sound of you entering the room.  He smiles.  “Hey, doll.”

You stop dead.  “You have got to be kidding me,” you mutter, taking him in.  He’s lounging back on the bed in nothing but a pair of low riding sweats. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, he was still growing out his beard.  And—God help you—he was wearing glasses.

“Goddamn it, Steve.”

Keep reading

10

Sketchy Behavior | Hellen Jo 

Never afraid to speak and/or draw her mind, Los Angeles based artist and illustrator, Hellen Jo and her characters can be described as rough, vulgar, tough, jaded, powerful, bratty and bad-ass - AKA her own brand of femininity. Known for her comic Jin & Jam, and her work as an illustrator and storyboard artist for shows such as Steven Universe and Regular Show, Hellen’s rebellious, and sometimes grotesque artwork and illustrations are redefining Asian American women and women of color in comics. In fact, that’s why Hellen Jo was a must-interviewee for our latest Sketchy Behavior where we talk to her about her love of comics and zines, her antiheroines, and redefining what Asian American women identity is or can be; and what her ultimate dream project realized would be.  

Keep reading

Aisles [m]

Aisle Three

Summary: Jungkook was your best friend. You held onto his secrets. And he knew all of yours. Except for one. One that would change your friendship forever. You were in love with him.

Pairing: Reader x Jungkook

Genre: bestfriend!au, college!au, angst, smut

Word Count: 5,802

Originally posted by sugutie

Aisle One Aisle Two Aisle Three

Surprisingly, it was easy for you to lie yourself and to everyone around you. Flashing a smile anytime someone around you asked you how you were doing. The layers of concealer under your eyelids hiding more than the lack of sleep. You tried to keep yourself busying, burying yourself under piles of books and notes to occupy your mind with anything but Jungkook and how he wrinkled his nose when he smiled.

 In a very strange way you found solace in the amount of schoolwork that was piling up in the pages of your planner. Exams, research papers, and presentations were keeping you out of the house and inside the walls of the library. You were regretting your schedule for this semester, but with the MCAT looming you couldn’t afford to take any risks. Medical school was the light at the end of the tunnel, and not even a bunny toothed boy was enough to keep you distracted.

 Hoseok however, had a problem with the fact that you should probably start paying rent to the librarian. He missed you, constantly sending you reminders to eat and drink water during the hours you were studying. You had regretted the night you told him that you hadn’t eaten since 7 in the morning and 45 minutes later a freckled teenager came into the library with the largest bag of Chinese takeout you had ever seen. And your name was scribbled on the front.

Y/N 9:35 PM: Hobi, I appreciate the thought but can you please stop sending me food while I am in the library.

Hoseok 9: 47 PM: I’ll stop sending you food when you actually sleep in your bed, for once

Sighing, you throw your phone back down on the table. He had a point. You hadn’t slept underneath sheets in weeks. By the time you got home from school you were too tired to make it your bedroom. Every morning waking up regretting the fact that you had decided to buy the lumpiest couch known to man. You knew that this wouldn’t last. That eventually you wouldn’t be able to hide behind the excuses of academics to avoid having a life. You were going to burn out.

But two days later you found yourself in the same position.

Keep reading

Jealous Fights (Jughead X Reader)

Summary- You get jealous that Jughead is hanging out with Betty so much, so you try to make him jealous too. 

Warnings- fighting, jealousy, kissing, crying.

requested- yes! @dixiehasalotoffreetime (thanks bes frand ily)

A/N- my first writing got 7 notes! (thats not a lot but still) thank you!  Also, I will be doing a second part to this! (probs won’t be as exciting but whatever) So stay tuned for that!




“So Jug, you up for studying tomorrow?” Betty asks Jughead.

You and your friends were all sitting at a booth at Pop’s, as usual.

“Uh, sure!” Jughead replies and smiles.

You quickly look both of them over. Jughead was your boyfriend and he seemed to be spending a lot of time with Betty lately. It was really getting on your nerves. 

“Whatcha gonna study?” You ask, scooting a bit closer to Jughead. 

Betty glances at Jug and replies, “For the science test, you know how hard Mrs.Hank’s tests are.” 

You nod and take a sip of your milk shake. 

You didn’t want to admit it to yourself, but you were a little jealous.

Then you got an idea. Why not make Jughead jealous too?

You turned to look at Archie, sitting on the other side of table. 

“Arch, do you to study with me? My place?” You ask the ginger haired boy. 

He quickly glances over at Jughead who looks a bit suspicious. 

“Uh, ok.” He replies.

You could see Jughead staring at you with hawk eyes, he was jealous already!

“Alright Archie, should we go?” You ask him leaning into the table.

“Sure.” He smiles and you both get up.

“Bye guys!” You both say in unison, before you lean down to kiss jughead.

Not just a peck, but a real kiss. You wanted him to see what he was missing out on.

You deepened your kiss and held his chin with your hand before breaking off. You wanted to be a tease.

You hear ooo sounds from Veronica and Kevin as you get back up from leaning over, still locking eyes with Jughead.

Jughead still looked flustered as you and Archie exited Pop’s. 

“What was that for?” Archie asks, referring to the kiss.

You turn to him and say, “Juggie has been spending a lot of time with Betty lately. And I don’t want to admit it but I’m kinda jealous.” 

“Ya, but they’re just friends.” Archie points out.

“I know but- I just want to make him jealous too. That’s why I asked you to study with me at my house.” You tell him as you near your home. 

Archie nods and you both enter the house.



The next day, you Kevin and Veronica walked to school together.

I didn’t take long for Kevin to bring up that kiss.

“Ok, but can we just talk about that kiss?” He exclaims. 

You giggle as he goes on.

“I mean that was hot. Like wow.” He says. 

“Thanks,” You laugh.

“But like why? You hardly ever kiss Jug like that in public, is there something happening that I don know about?” Veronica asked as she pulled her phone out of her pocket to check her hair on the camera.

“I don’t know. Jughead has been hanging out with Betty a lot lately. And I know that they are only friends… But I’m kinda jealous. I guess I just wanted him to see what he was missing out on.” You explain as you all enter the school.

“Oh! Well I can help you make him jealous if you want.” Veronica offers, winking. 

You laugh and open your locker. 

Then you see Betty and Jughead walking side by side down the halls, laughing. 

A fire burns in you. You didn’t know why, but you were mad. 

Then Archie comes up beside you and Kevin to open his locker. 

“Hey Arch!” You say loud enough so Juggie and Betty hear as they came closer. 

“Hey Y/N!” He replies and smiles and grabs some books out of his locker. 

Then Betty and Jughead come up to you guys. 

“Hey.” Jug says to you all and takes you into his arms in a light kiss. 

You kiss him back a little harder and then let go, smirking at him. 

You turn around and get books out of your locker as the rest of the gang talks. 

“So how was studying?” Jughead asked you. 

There it was, he was jealous.

“Fine, and you?” You asked smiling.

“Fine too.” He looked at you a little angrily and then said, “Well, I better get to class.” and walked away. 




After school, while in your room, you heard a knock on your window, it was Jughead. 

You quickly opened it and let him inside. 

“Hello beautiful.” He said and leaned in for a kiss. 

You rolled your eyes at his cliche saying but kissed him back. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. He wrapped his arms around your waste as his lips moved gracefully against yours.

After a few moments you broke apart and stared lovingly into his eyes and he did the same. 

bing!

His phone dinged and he pulled it out. 

“Ugh. I got to go.” He sighed and made his way towards the window.

“What? why?” You asked in an annoyed tone.

“I promised Betty I would help her with an assignment, sorry.” He said.

You lets out a loud groan. Jughead turned around to face you.

“What was that for?” He inquired.

“Nothing… It’s just seems like you’ve been wanting to be with Betty a lot lately.” You answered turning your head up a bit.

“Ya, so? She’s my friend.” He said.

“Friend, huh? It seems like you want to be more than that with her.” You said. You know you were going overboard, but you needed to show Jughead you meant business.

“What? Y/N that just stupid! You know that’s not true!” He raised his voice a bit.

“Oh really? Then why are you spending more time with her than with me?” You said, crossing your arms.

“I’m not! We just study together sometimes and-” He began but you cut him off.

“Sometimes? Sometimes?! You have been with her almost everyday after school for the past two weeks!” You raised your voice and stepped at bit closer to him.

“I have not! Your just jealous!” He yelled.

Anger burned in your eyes, you could feel your face getting red and your palms sweating.

“You know what? Fine. Whatever! Just go!” You yelled pointing to the window. “I’ll just invite over Archie!” 

Jughead began to leave until he hear the last sentence. He whirled around.

“Archie? Why Archie?!” He said, his eyes burned.

“See!! Your jealous too!!” Your voice getting louder by the second.

“I am not!” Jughead yelled, heading towards the window again. 

“Yes you are! Now leave! Be with Betty! Cheat on me, see if I care!!” You screamed, tears welling up in your eyes. 

That was it. He turned around so fast he was like a blob of black clothes. 

“I’M NOT CHEATING ON YOU, YOU IDIOT!!” He screamed.

Jughead had never been so mad before. He had never yelled at you. He had never called you anything other than sweet things. But he was the most angry you had ever seen him.

Your face got hot, tears began to stream down your face.

“WHY WOULDN’T YOU? YOU HAVE NOTHING TO LOOSE! BETTY IS PERFECT AND SWEET AND BEAUTIFUL! JUST GO WITH HER!” You screamed as hot tears poured out of your eyes.

“YES I WOULD HAVE SOMETHING TO LOOSE! THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!” He screamed coming closer to you.

Did you hear him right?

“I love you Y/N.” He said a bit quieter, but still loudly. 

He then took your face in his hands and brought his mouth to yours. 

But before he kissed you, you let out a small whisper, 

“I love you too.” 

anonymous asked:

Okay I need to ask. Why do YOU write?

I grew up surrounded by words, quite literally. By the time I was six months old my parents had taped words to every surface in the house, so the walls said “wall” the window said “window” and so on so forth. I still don’t know how they managed to get the cat involved but some things are meant to be wondered at.

But for the next six years the world was covered in words, as first I learned to read, and then my brother. I dare say if you move some furniture in my parents house to this day you will find a faded piece of paper that says “shelf” or “bookcase” on it. It was a sad day when they were taken down, they were like old friends. But by then the magic had already worked. I was able to look at the world and see words, whether they were printed there or not.

I was four when I sat down to consciously write my first story. I remember it vividly because I had my bright yellow Cadburys Caramel mug, that had the purple flowing font on the side with the bunny rabbit lady on it. It was filled with “baby tea”— mostly hot milk with a splash of tea from the pot to give it color— and I was holding it in both hands, sitting at the little “art” table dad had built for me in the corner so I had a place to sit and scribble that wasn’t the walls. Contemplating my next masterpiece I looked around the room for inspiration. Would it be an exploration of color through pinky finger painting only? Or would it be the greatest macaroni interpretation of a dog we’d ever seen? Sadly we’ll never know how this might have worked out, as at that very moment, mum came in holding a crystal mobile and hung it up on the window sill. This in turn had the effect of creating a living, dancing rainbow in the living room, and something in my brain short fused.

That was the day I learned the word “iridescent”. It was like learning the language of angels.

After that I was always scribbling something. My school books were a mess of words, crammed into margins and on back pages. I was always in trouble for letting my mind “wander into whimsy.” Once I got a report card that said “fantastical leanings towards flights of fancy.” It was meant as criticism, but dad still has it framed in the office.

Then there came the time a few years later when I was reading the Hobbit with dad, and I turned to him quite seriously and asked “where are all the girl hobbits?” and dad hemmed and hawed before eventually telling me “they’re in another book, darling…having their own adventure…” and I accepted this and settled back down to let him finish the chapter. He probably thought I forgot about it until that weekend I marched up to the Librarian and asked for “the girl hobbit book please”, which was met with much confusion and my dad rushing over to tell me they probably wouldn’t have it yet because it was very rare. A few weeks later, dad handed me something. It was sheaves of paper bound together by string. It was, he told me, a very exclusive copy of the girl hobbit book.

I still have it somewhere, back home. Probably on a shelf somewhere that still says “shelf”.

And sweet, naive thing that I was, I believed him. It wasn’t until later on and someone else popped my bubble, that I realized dad, not Tolkien, had written it. And oh I was furious, furious because the story had been so good and because dad had lied about not writing it himself. But that small bubbling anger was nothing compared to the heat inside my brain when my dad confessed he’d tried without much success to find books I might like with girls in them. All the heroes were boys, you see. It made me quite tearful actually, that no one had ever thought that someone like me could go off on an adventure and save the world, when I knew it to be a blatant lie. Old Mrs McDougall across the street had been a land girl and saved a man shot down from his spitfire. Mrs Mitchell had been the emergency coordinator and saved people from burning buildings when the Nazis bombed the shipyards, and her skin was all bubbled and tightly pulled across the left side of her face because of it and her hands didn’t quite work because she’d gripped burning metal to try and free the men inside. Those, were heroes. But we never learned about them at school. We only learned about kings and tyrants and the kind of heavily filtered history that lead you to believe that women were in there somewhere, but only in the same sense that a wall has paint on it.

And now my books, my lovely wonderful books, where you could travel through space and time or climb up volcanoes to throw rings inside and save the world…those wonderful colorful worlds that spoke the language of angels, were just the same.

I was ready to cry and be defeated about it until dad, raising his eyebrows at me and offering me a notebook, said, “well, maybe someone ought to write one.”

And you likely know the rest by now. But in short I write because there are stories to be told. I write because it’s the closest I’ll ever be to how the word iridescent feels. I look at the world and I see words, dancing like rainbows, singing like angels.

There’s words everywhere. I’m just scribbling them down.

I Should Have Kissed You

Characters: MOC!Dean x Reader, mention of Sam

Word Count: 1749

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up people), oral (male receiving), language, barely a hint of angst

A/N:  I was re-watching season 10 and it got me thinking about helping Dean get his mind off of the Mark.

You walk by Dean’s door for the third time in fifteen minutes.  His room is littered with books as he sits against the side of his bed with his long legs crossed out in front of him and his nose buried deep in a book.  You had been living with Sam and Dean long enough to know that something was up.  Ever since the last lead on the Mark went nowhere Dean had been obsessed with reading everything he could find about it.  You were worried, which was why you were walking past his room yet again.  You take a breath and knock on the open door.  Dean barely looks up from his book.

“Hey, Dean,” you say standing over him.

“Hey Y/N,” Dean mumbles.

Keep reading

Married Life

Derek wakes up to the birds chirping outside and the sun shining on his face, as a soft breeze blew in from the open window. Stiles must have opened it this morning to get some fresh air into the house. Derek rolls over searching for his husband only to find empty sheets that seemed to have been vacant for quite some time. He frowns sitting up, he searches around the room trying to find his better half, so he can drag him back to bed for some anniversary sex.

It was their four year anniversary and Derek intended to make love to his husband all day. He gets out of the bed slipping on his robe and stepping into his slippers. Stiles always teased him for having a robe and slippers calling Derek an old man before Derek pinned him to the bed showing him what this “old man” could do. He walks over to the open door their dog following close behind him. He notices a sticky note on the door and takes it off the door, he chuckles softly when he sees that it says, “Happy Anniversary!” on it.

Of course Stiles would do this on their anniversary. He follows the arrow on the sticky note finding another one on the bathroom door.

“Four long years we’ve been married” Derek reads. He rolls his eyes biting his lip to keep himself from smiling so hard. He follows the directions given on the note finding one on the closet door.

“I can’t believe I used to hate you!” It says. Derek laughs at this remembering how they used to argue whenever they saw each other. He goes down the stairs finding one on the banister. He picks it up reading it.

“Sorry I got you arrested…”

Derek snorts looking over at the other banister like the note told him. He finds another one picking it up.

“You make my world ten times more brighter!” he reads. He smiles looking at the little sun Stiles drew. He follows the instructions to go to the kitchen and finds a note on the toaster. He picks it up feeling giddy.

“Sorry I burn the toast…”

Derek laughs at the sad face remembering all the times Stiles attempted to make toast, but always ended up burning it. He looks at the cabinets and sees another note reading it.

“And break plates…”

He chuckles remembering when Stiles dropped a plate the other day and started crying. He made sure the Stiles felt better by buying him the biggest chocolate milkshake at their favorite ice cream place. He heads over to the counter like the instructions said and reads a note.

“And put the dent in the counter…”

Derek snorts remembering when they first started having sex and slamming Stiles onto the counter leaving a huge dent in their counter. He smiles following the instructions to go to the dining room. He sets the other notes down on their table reading the one left at the edge.

“I love it when you make pasta…” it says. He looks where the arrow on the note was pointing.

“Or make me coffee in the mornings.” he reads as soon as he finds the note. Derek grins at the blue coffee cup Stiles drew that was like the one in the cabinet right now. He continues to look in the same direction finding another note.

“You have no idea how much I appreciate you!” he reads. He feels his cheeks heat up and his chest swell. He follows the instructions of going to the living making sure to take all the notes with him. He finds a note on the back of the couch picking it up.

“I love watching those boring documentaries with you.” Derek reads. He smiles remembering how Stiles spent most of the time whining and complaining about how they were boring, but continued to watch them because he knew Derek liked them. He reads the instructions and heads over to the bookshelf and picks up another note reading it.

“You’re so peaceful when you read.”

Derek blushes and follows the arrow over to their DVD rack where they kept all the DVD’s they’ve collected over the years. He finds another note in the superhero section picking it up.

“You have a horrible taste in superheroes!” he reads. He laughs shaking his head, only Stiles would argue about that. He follows the instructions on the note and walks over to the coffee table.

“But you always make it up to me.” Derek reads. He smirks remembering the countless times he’s had Stiles on the coffee table, as Derek gave him a blowjob while they watched another Batman movie. He picks up the note looking where it was pointing at and heads over to his study. He finds a note on the door.

“I admire how hard you work.” it says. He smiles walking into the study spotting a note on the computer. He reads it’s chuckling.

“Thanks for letting me play games on here.”

He smiles following the sign that points at his bookshelf. He grabs it biting his lip.

“I love that you have an endless amount of amazing books!” he reads. He smiles looking at his bookshelf, picturing Stiles running his hand along the spines of the books as Derek works on his latest project. He follows the arrow to his desk seeing a note on one of his latest designs.

“You’re drawings are truly amazing Derek.”

Derek smiles picking the note up he looks around his desk looking for any more. He sees a note on the drawing he has been working on for years for the Hale house. He picks it up and reads it.

“Someday we’ll have the perfect house.” he reads. Derek gives a soft smile tracing a finger over the small, blue house. He chuckles at the instructions telling him to keep looking in the same direction. He finds another one next to the drawing seeing the same blue house.

“The perfect place to have children.” it says. He lets out a low growl his wolf going wild at the thought of having pups around the house. He looks at the two hearts close to the house, one heart blue and the other pink. He frowns wondering why the other one was blue, he walks out of his study following the instructions to look for the dog. He finds the note on the dog’s collar.

“You’re so loving even to the smallest things.” Derek reads. He smiles petting the dog fondly. The dog showed up at their house 2 years ago hurt and cold. He didn’t want to keep the dog, but gave in when Stiles gave him the puppy eyes Derek could never say no to. He reads the instructions and heads to the front door peeling off the note.

“And caring!” he reads. He smiles looking at the hearts surrounding the word caring. He follows the instructions to look at screen door opening the front door. He finds another note with a heart.

“Words cannot express how much I love you!” it says. He feels his chest swell at the endearing note, he walks onto the porch finding a note on the stairs.

“You’re so brave Derek.” he reads. He gives a small smile looking around for Stiles, but only sees more notes on their walkway. He walks down the stairs picking up the first one.

“You have the most amazing smile!” he reads. Derek chuckles shaking his head, only Stiles would be this cheesy. He walks over to the second note and picks it up.

“I get lost in your eyes every time I look at you!”

Derek snorts cringing a little at how corny it was. He walks over to the next note bending down.

“I love you to the moon and beyond!” Derek reads smiling fondly. It was Stiles’s favorite saying even though it was supposed to be a joke. He looks at the big stack of sticky notes in his hand smiling, this was way better than his idea. He finds the next one not too far away almost at the end of the walkway. He picks it up and reads it.

“This is where we first kissed and the moment I realized I loved you.”

Derek bites his lip remembering the day Stiles kissed him for the first time. How his heart was beating out of his chest and the way Stiles looked at him. He follows the instructions and heads to the woods finding a note on the tree that leads into the woods.

“I’m sorry your family is dead. I would do anything to them back to you…” Derek frowns as he reads the note confused on why the sudden change in the mood. He continues on finding more notes on more trees.

“I’m sorry you’ve struggled for so long…” Derek reads. His frown continues as he reads more notes.

“I’m sorry people say mean things when they see us in public…”

Derek starts to panic. He hurries to the next note trying to figure out what was going on.

“I’m sorry I can’t get pregnant.” the next one says. Derek adds it to his pile and heads for the last note smelling Stiles’s familiar scent.

“I’m sorry for ever making you cry.” the very last note says. He follows Stiles’s scent the notes balled in his fist. He’s interpret them later, but right now he needs to be with Stiles. When he finally reaches Stiles he pulls him into a hug breathing in his scent. Stiles giggles hugging him back.

“What’s wrong is everything alright?!” Derek asks checking for any cuts or bruises. Stiles laughs and pushes him away.

“I’m fine Derek,” Stiles says fixing his shirt. “What makes you think anything is wrong?”

“The notes.” Derek says frowning. Stiles laughs again and shakes his head.

“You’re forgetting the most important ones.” Stiles says. He points at the note on his shirt. Derek peels it off reading it.

“I can’t wait for you to be a father!” he reads. He looks at Stiles confused. Stiles gives him a smile and lifts up his shirt to reveal a small baby bump with a sticky note on it.

“A father to a beautiful, baby boy…or girl.” it says. Derek looks up his eyes wide. He drops to his knees pulling the note off Stiles tummy. He sets his ear on Stiles’s stomach listening to Stiles’s heartbeat and one more. He looks up tears pooling in his eyes.

“How far along are you?” Derek asks.

“Three months.” Stiles says running a hand through Derek’s hair.

“How did I not know?” Derek whispers. He rests his head on Stiles’s stomach again.

“I had Deaton help me hide it,” Stiles says. “I wanted it to be a surprise for you.”

“I thought-I thought that we couldn’t get pregnant.” Derek says. He kisses Stiles’s stomach listening to the small heartbeat again.

“Deaton found this spell book and I found something about pregnancies, so I figured I’d try it.” Stiles says. Derek continues to rub his stomach the tears flowing down his cheeks.

“I’m going to be a dad?” He asks shocked. Stiles laughs continuing to run his hands through Derek’s hair.

“Happy anniversary babe.” Stiles says. Derek stands up and kisses his husband with as much emotion he could pour into a kiss. This truly was the best anniversary gift a man could possible get from his spouse.

(Just a little thing I did yesterday nothing too important. There were also some baby hints in there see if you can try and find them except the last two they just give it away. There’s a couple!)

Drown Your Sorrows (Newt Scamander x Reader)

• prompt: reader gets jealous of tina and newts (friendship) and goes off and gets drunk
• word count: y do i even write this i never look it up
• warnings: drinking/alcohol & jealousy
(sorry for the lack of gif, tumblr is being heckin annoying atm)

• Drown Your Sorrows•


Y/N walks into the living room (of her shared apartment with the Goldstein sisters) balancing an impressing pile of various volumes on magical creatures she had spent hours showering through the archives- for Newt.
“Newt I-” Her face falls as she spots Newt and Porpentia curled up in front of the fireplace, going through his field journals. “Newt?” She asks softly, her voice cracking slightly as the two don’t take any notice of her presence, Newt speaking animatedly about his favorite creatures.
She ducks her head, leaving the towering pile of books on the smooth oak coffee table behind the two, holding her arms and turning to walk quickly out of the room.
Newt laughs, an occurrence that doesn’t usually happen, and Y/N freezes, holding her elbows, her back turned to the two, staring at the floor as a pang of burning emptiness shoots through her chest.
She quietly exits the room, sliding the door shut silently behind her, and just about walks into Queenie, who is preparing dinner in the kitchen.
The blonde takes one look at Y/N and her face softens, “Sweetie-”
“Please don’t read my mind-” Y/N mutters, staring at the floor, “Please!” She glares up at her friend and walks briskly to her room.

Keep reading

The Price of Privilege - Part 4 (A Kyungsoo Series)

Genre: Angst / Smut (18+) / Romance / Arranged Marriage / Royalty AU

Characters: Kyungsoo X You

Description: The time has come to marry the man your family has selected to take your hand. As royalty these important matters are arranged for you, but when you meet your soon to be husband, he is nothing like you expected.

The Price of Privilege : part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, Part 6


It wasn’t the weight of his body over your shoulder, or the warmth from him that rested along your side. It wasn’t the sound of his heavy breathing, or the wince of pain you saw in his pretty profile when he stepped too hard on his right foot that humanize him just a little bit in your mind.

No, the part of this that you felt the agonizing truth in, the part that told you deep down in the pit of your stomach where you kept every deep dark secret that could potentially reach up and suffocate you, the part that told you that you were doomed – completely and utterly doomed–

–was his smell.

Keep reading

UNDERTALE starters
  • “…But nobody came.”
  • “I… I’ve changed my mind about all this. This isn’t a good idea anymore.”
  • “YOU! You’re standing in the way of everybody’s hopes and dreams!”
  • “I don’t want to break their hearts all over again. It’s better if they never see me.”    
  • “Despite everything, it’s still you.”
  • “Ah, the cactus. Truly the most tsundere of plants.”
  • “Go ahead. Prepare however you want. But when you step forward… I will KILL you.”
  • “It’s me, [name].”
  • “Wow! We haven’t even had our first date and I’m in the friendzone!”
  • “It pains me to say this, but… you should probably never come back here.”
  • “Maybe looking at this nice lamp will help you.”
  • “There is nothing left for us here. Let us erase this pointless world, and move on to the next.”
  • “They thought that he had killed the child.”
  • “Quit looking at me with that stupid expression. You’re pissing me off.”
  • “We’re all counting on you, kid. Good luck.”
  • “Nice day today, huh? Birds are singing, flowers are blooming… Perfect weather for a game of catch.”
  • “You can certainly find better than an old man/woman like me.” 
  • “I do not know if this is pathetic or endearing.”
  • “Oh. My god. I didn’t expect you to show up so soon! I haven’t showered, I’m barely dressed, it’s all messy, and…”
  • “You’re way better at dating than I am.”
  • “Get dunked on!”
  • “This is the power that the humans feared.”
  • “They must be here, playing a joke on me. I’ll just wait until one of them admits it…”
  • “…You really like hot animals, don’t you?”
  • “It was nice to meet you. …Goodbye.”
  • “On days like this, kids like you should be burning in Hell.”
  • “Remember. DON’T kill anyone. …I can’t believe this is a REAL thing I have to remind you.”
  • “…Why are you still here? Are you trying to keep me company?”
  • “You should be smiling, too. Aren’t you excited? Aren’t you happy?” 
  • “Don’t worry, my little monarch, my plan isn’t regicide. This is SO much more interesting.”
  • “What makes you think you’re in control?”
  • “Never come back here. You are not welcome.”
  • “Why does someone as great as me have to do so much to get recognition?!”
  • “You made your choice long ago.”
  • “Don’t you realize that being nice just makes you get hurt?”
  • “So you finally made it. The end of your journey is at hand.”
  • “I didn’t cry! I just… caught something in my eye!”
  • “You know what would be more valuable to everyone? IF YOU WERE DEAD!”
  • “Look. [Name] didn’t come to the meeting today. Say what you want about him/her/them. H/She’s/They’re weird, naive, self-absorbed. But [name] has NEVER missed a meeting. And no matter what time you call him/her/them on the phone… Night, day, afternoon, morning… He/she/they ALWAYS answers within the first two rings.”
  • “Anything you want to do is important enough. Even something as small as reading a book, or taking a walk… Please take your time.“
  • “[Name] hated humanity. Why they did, they never talked about it. But they felt very strongly about that.”
  • “WELL? Are you CHERISHING?! CHERISH HARDER!”
  • "If you… If you think I’m gonna give up hope, you’re wrong. ‘Cause I’ve got my friends behind me.”
  • “Perhaps we can reach a compromise. You still have something that I want.”
  • “Always wondered why people never use their strongest attack first.”
  • “No matter the struggles or hardships you faced… you strived to do the right thing. You refused to hurt anyone.”
  • “This is why I never make promises.”
  • “ …Why? Why are you being… so nice to me? I can’t understand. I can’t understand! I just can’t understand… “
  • “Honestly, fighting you IS pretty fun… So even if you ARE a sicko, I’ll take it!”
  • “Maybe you’d be better… at not killing anyone? Crazy idea, huh? Let me know how that one goes.” 
  • “Did I ever tell you about the time [name] flirted with me?”
  • “STOP PETTING THE ENEMY!”
  • “Now, I understand acting in self-defense. You were thrown into those situations against your will.”
  • “You’d better watch yourself, kid. Things are lookin’ real bad for you.”
  • “Are you ready? If you are not, I understand. I’m not ready either…”
  • “Oh my God! Will you two just smooch already?”
  • “Don’t you get it? There’s no such thing as happy endings. This is all that’s left…!”
  • “The internet! I’m quite popular there!”
  • “Do you think even the worst person can change…? That everyone can be a good person if they just try?”
  • “Don’t worry about it. Most of us have tried to kill [name] at one time or another.”
  • “Wowie! You did it! You didn’t do a violence!”
  • “Not everything can be resolved by being nice.”
  • “Don’t kill, and don’t be killed, alright? That’s the best you can strive for.” 
  • “Oh no! You’re meeting all of my standards!”
  • “Anime is real, RIGHT?!”
  • “Maybe you’re wondering if I ever get tired of winning… Wanna see my answer?”
  • “Sorry, I do not have much to say. It was nice to hear your voice, though.”
  • “This is all just a bad dream… and you’re NEVER waking up!”
  • “Down here, it’s kill or be killed!”
  • “I can’t come back. I just can’t, OK?”
  • “I so badly want to say, ‘would you like a cup of tea?’ But… You know how it is.”
  • “Would you smooch a ghost?”
  • “The truth is… [Name] wasn’t really the greatest person.” 
  • “Well, if I were you, I would have thrown in the towel by now. But you didn’t get this far by giving up, did you?” 
  • “You’re not really human, are you? No. You’re empty inside. Just like me.”
  • “Are you bored? I should have given a book to you. My apologies. Why not use your imagination to divert yourself?”
  • “I’ll hold victory in front of you, just within your reach… and then tear it away just before you grasp it.”
  • “Come on! Step forward and let’s end this!”
  • “Don’t you get it? This is all just a GAME.”
  • “Are those two robots…?”
  • “If you have some sort of special power… isn’t it your responsibility to do the right thing?”
  • “Stop plaguing my life with incidental music!”
  • “Self-defense? Please. You didn’t kill them because you had to. You killed them because it was easy for you. Because it was fun for you. Do you think it was fun when I found out…? Do you think it’s fun when people’s family members never come home? Is that fun? No. “
  • “I wish I had eight legs… so I could wear FOUR pairs of hot pants!”
  • “The more you kill, the easier it becomes to distance yourself. The more you distance yourself, the less you will hurt. The more easily you can bring yourself to hurt others.”
  • “RUN. INTO. THE BULLETS.”
  • “I can’t go to Hell. I’m all out of vacation days.”
  • “They just sort of showed up one day and…asserted themselves. The town’s gotten a lot more interesting since then.”
  • “Our king is really bad at names.”
  • “If it weren’t for you, I would’ve never gotten past him. But now, with your help, he’s DEAD.”
  • “Then why’d you kill my brother/sister?”
  • “I’ve done everything this world has to offer. I’ve read every book. I’ve burned every book. I’ve won every game. I’ve lost every game. I’ve appeased everyone. I’ve killed everyone.”
  • “What did you do to him? …What did you DO to him?!”
  • “…I don’t have the heart to tell her what you did. Do you know how she’d react?”
  • “You didn’t even need my help, which is great, ‘cause I love doing absolutely nothing.”
  • “I’m smiling and I hate it!”
  • “Do you wanna have a bad time? 'Cause if you take another step forward… you are REALLY not going to like what happens next.”
  • “If we’re really friends… you won’t come back.”
  • “Did you really think I was gonna be satisfied… killing you only ONE time?”
  • “I remember when I first woke up here, in the garden. I was so scared. I couldn’t feel my arms or my legs…”
  • “Even after all this time, you’re still the only one that understands me.”
  • “Why do I always get the freaks?”
  • “It’s possible that you may have a problem.”
  • “What a terrible creature, torturing such a poor, innocent youth…”
  • “I’m nineteen years old and I’ve already wasted my entire life.”
  • “If you’re so scared, why do you keep winking?”
  • “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

anonymous asked:

Have you ever had to restart a short story or book completely from scratch? If so, how did you keep from becoming completely disheartened? Thanks!

Oh God yes, that’s happened to me. I don’t know how you keep from getting upset over something like this – it’s a loss, after all, and upset is the normal response – but it’s what you do in the aftermath that counts.

I need to come at this from two directions: when you lose work you’ve been paid for / have under contract, and when it happens to work you’re doing for pleasure or haven’t yet sold.

My most horrific example of this was when a disc crash combined with corrupt backups left me with nothing two weeks before SPOCK’S WORLD was due at the publisher. “Disheartened” doesn’t begin to describe it, but at the time I had no leisure to indulge that or waste precious work time on screaming fits. My editor told me that the book was due on Day X and THAT WAS THAT. It was the very first hardcover Trek novel. They had commissioned me specifically for this work because they believed I was then the best Star Trek writer available. The book was already heavily presold, and there was no wiggle room in the schedule. My editor didn’t care what I did, but I was expected to act like a professional and get on with it and turn a book in on The Day.

So I pulled up my Big Girl Knickers and got ON with it. I reconstructed and retyped the destroyed 70K of words over one week, and wrote the necessary 40K or so of words necessary to complete the book over the next week. (And it was a good thing that I was both very, very familiar with my material, having been quite close to it for many weeks, and also had an incredibly detailed outline to prompt my memory where it failed.) And having rebuilt what was lost and sent it away, then I spent a few days having a wee collapse (and taking a lot of aspirin: I didn’t have a proper typing chair and had done all that writing in a straight-backed kitchen chair. My back wasn’t right again for nearly a month).

This disaster turned out, in retrospect, to be one of those Blessings In Disguise things: I’m convinced to this day that the recreation of the lost material was far better than the original. And the book did then spend eight weeks on the NYTBS list, which has to be some kind of validation. But if this situation illustrates anything, it’s that firmness of purpose (and sheer terror) can overcome downheartedness pretty easily when the stakes are high enough… as I knew my career and I were dead meat if I didn’t deliver.

Now, work done on your own nickel, without that kind of pressure overshadowing you, is another story.

I remember vividly a short work I’d written, 12,000 words (well, it’s short around here) about one of the painted lanterns made for the Fasnacht carnival in Basel. These lanterns are exquisite works of art, made by the best graphic artists in the city, decorated with topical artwork and involved poetry in Baslerdeutsch, and paraded around the city for the admiration of all… and then, at the end of the carnival, they’re ceremonially burned. This story was about one of these lanterns that – having for some reason or other become sentient – decides not to put up with being burned, and flees.

I was really, REALLY fond of this story, and worked on it on and off over the course of a year. “The Runaway Laderne” was nearly finished when I sent a copy of it to one of my editors to let her take a look of it. And then… bang, another disc crash, and the Laderne was gone for real. But by the time this happened and I contacted my editor to see if I could recover a copy from her, it turned out she’d inadvertently purged it from her mailbox.

I was really, really disappointed about this. And even now, every now and then I find myself undertaking a half-hearted search among some older backups to see if a copy of it might have escaped. But what I knew about the story in the year that followed was that the passion that had driven the writing to the point where the story was 99% done had indeed finished its work: it had burned itself clean in the execution of the work… so would take twice as much energy to recover. And if I couldn’t find the time to work in a reconstruction of the story around work I was being paid to do, then maybe I was just going to have to cut my losses on that story and hope to meet it again in some better place. (I.e., “writer heaven”… where you meet your work in its perfect form, instead of the inevitably flawed stuff that works its way out in a world ridden with entropy.)

There comes a point where you learn to choose your fights. Shock at losing work – and the  initial response of feeling disheartened – I think can be overcome either by necessity, or by the underlying urge to write the story not yet having exhausted itself. There’s definitely a level at which the image of the unwritten work, and the expectation of what it can become if you can just nail the damn thing down on paper or in electrons, will drive you mercilessly until it’s done. (THE DOOR INTO FIRE did that with me: picked me up in its teeth and dragged me back to the typewriter night and day until it was finished.) Other works are more leisurely, and just kind of nag at you from the  sidelines.

But if you’re finished or near-finished, and the initial creative impetus has exhausted itself, then once you’ve recovered from the initial shock of loss, you have to sit down and do your own mental math to determine whether the expenditure of energy needed to recover or reconstruct the work is going to be, as they say over here, “worth the candle”. No one else but you can do that math. It’s unquestionably painful to decide that you can’t or don’t want to commit to reconstruction: but you have to determine what’s to be gained. I can still see that laderne in my head, and feel a bit sorry about its loss:  but I also do know that the story was all but finished, that it was a good piece of work that satisfied me, and that what I learned from it would go to contribute later to other work: because no work you do is wasted, even if it’s lost.

All creative work to some extent – if only a small one – serves to structure the unstructured and impose order on chaos: and where that happens, the universe remembers being structured, and appreciates it. And also, “practice makes perfect”: you may have lost the written, but you haven’t lost the writer, and the impress of what you did has sunk itself into your synapses. Even when lost, the work was worth doing, and its spirit will covertly animate your next piece of work. So if you’ve lost something, don’t despair: get up, dust yourself off and open a new file or roll a blank page into the typewriter. Stories may get lost, but Story is immortal: possibly more so than we are.  

HTH. :)

Lifetime {SIRIUS BLACK}

“the idea for this imagine came to me while listening to the song ‘give me love’ by ed sheeran and reading sirius imagines. the song is so cute and just… asdfghjkl. this request is gonna be in multiple parts by the way. also, i was the anon that had the really long request but was lazy, so here it is. it might have mistakes. the background of this idea is that the reader was close friends with all of the marauders and sirius black and the reader became lovers around their 5th year. they continued this relationship up until sirius was taken to azkaban (p.s. reader is basically harry’s godmother). they also planned on getting married and starting a family at some point (they’re mEANT to be okay). reader was unbelievably upset about this and knew something up because the man she loved wasn’t like that. the reader and remus sent owls to each other talking about what happened. also, reader didn’t have any serious relationships with anyone else while sirius was in azkaban, just maybe a quick hookup here and there. skip to the point when sirius escapes, drawing attention to the reader. once again, remus and reader sent owls to each other discussing the matter. reader didn’t know when she’d see sirius again or if she ever would see him again because the first place most would look to find sirius was at their house since they were a well known couple. here is basically the plot: harry, hermione, and ron find out about their relationship from remus and try to secretly set them up, neither one knowing about this plan to be reunited, when they find out sirius is a good guy. or maybe remus sets them up. anyways, they do finally reunite (LOTS of fluff. like a lot of hugging & kissing & crying, especially from reader) before sirius leaves with buckbeak. sirius explains to the reader about what actually happened that night and how he escaped from azkaban. reader is eventually told that he has to leave to go into hiding. reader is very upset because she just finally got to see him for the first time in like twelve years. sirius then suggests that she should go into hiding with him, and she says yes because who doesn’t like a happy ending?? i’m so sorry that this is extremely long and very specific!!! 💓”

hi there anon; thank you for your request. i hope this is okay for you, i spent a long time writing this; i’m sorry that it spent so long in my inbox. also thank you to @parchment-scribbles and @harryputsthedindraco for putting up with my endless whining about this fic. xx

Word Count: 6.8k

Sunlight fought its way through the glass panes of the ancient classroom. Small rainbow spectrums rested against the stone bricks that gave the room its basic structure. Thirty first-year students stood against the back wall waiting for their name to be called out, a small gesture which would show them where they would have been seated for the rest of their school year. Some listened carefully while the Professor called every name, to try and learn the names of their classmates; others zoned out and avoided eye contact with everybody until their name was called. Sirius Black was one of those; he was adamant when he first walked into the dusty abyss that nothing in that room could have ever interested him. Charms classes were the only lessons that he currently shared with the Slytherins; the ones who sneered whenever he walked past them or screamed that he was a blood-traitor. He did not share the same beliefs as his evil family; at just the young age of eleven, Sirius had developed his own opinions and attitudes, ones which disagreed with everything the Black’s had worked hard to build upon over the last century. For Sirius, the only option left was to put on a facade, one that showed that he didn’t care about what others thought of him; he couldn’t show anybody that he felt any differently.

Keep reading

First - Part Two

A/N: This contains sexual actions, just so you are aware. Feedback is always lovely. 

Word count: 2,545

“Here we are” you said, letting Shawn pass through your front door.

He looked around curiously as he entered the hall and you followed him behind.

“You like it?” you asked, he nodded back at you.

“You live here alone?” he asked almost stunned. You laughed slightly as his cute little reaction.

Keep reading

The finale is just beautiful for anti-CSers.

I mean, short of the best outcome, which would be Emma heading straight for divorce court and then back to Archie’s office to work on her codependence issues, followed by her moving on to her real TL (Regina, resurrected Neal, Jefferson, Lily, some dude or chick she met on the street, I’m down with anyone).

But we can’t have that, so what we got was the next best thing.

1) No TLK, making them the only major remaining canon couple never to have one. (Let alone that Snowing and Rumbelle have MULTIPLE TLKs.) Even a host of secondary couples–Philora, Scarlet Queen, Jaladdin, Ruby Slippers, Brennan and some nurse–have TLK, but not CY. (And they had another failed TLK just the episode before–their wedding ep, LOL.)

2) Emma has a memory of her wedding and it does nothing for her belief. (To be fair, I’m sure she was thinking “I would never be married in such an ugly-ass dress.”)

3) As the book burns, it falls open to Killy’s page (pic of him setting out for revenge, btw)–and again that doesn’t trigger anything. She literally sees him burn up and doesn’t feel a thing, setting out for Boston right afterward.

4) The beanstalk falls, and  Snow’s true love immediately warns her that David’s in danger. Emma gets nuffink about Killy.

5) Killy’s bean quest is ultimately completely useless. The bean does no one any good. 

6) Everything that helps Emma’s is Henry–his book only covers to their first TLK, and he’s the one whose true love kiss saves her after she sacrifices herself. As it should be.

7) When everyone gets back, Emma runs to her parents and hugs them before Killy.

Bonus: Regina’s hope speech to Emma includes “you never gave up on me”–which we know from Rumbelle is another way of saying “I love you.” (Killy used the line, too, back in Camelot–and still gave up on her two  days back in SB.)

In short, Killy through the whole ep:

Newcomers Pt 16

It was dark, all fires and lights had been forbidden after the fall of Geeda and an evacuation order had gone out but the enemy had been spotted not five miles from their town. A small group of militia volunteers had agreed to stand and fight to defend their homes and at least slow the enemy down. But there had been no sign of them since that message had come, no thunder that was said to precede their arrival brought on by their tower sized machines. No sounds of their tracked vehicles that fired shells that shred their war trucks apart.

Ceten had agreed to volunteer because his father had pushed him into it calling him a coward because he wanted to go with his mother. By Human standards he was only 14 maybe 15 years old but to the Benemar was well past childhood. He had never liked fighting, being the runt of the littler meant he was the smallest and all his brothers and his two sisters had done their father proud and joined the warrior caste. He wanted to be a farmer, to see fields of purple once more flow to the horizon like it said in his books. Those he had had to beg or steal as his father often said reading was for breeders not warriors and had beaten him several times when he found him with a book under his bed. Right now, his father was beside him holding a rifle perched on some hastily constructed barricades made out of cars and furniture. All his siblings were dead, they fell in Geeda and he saw how his father had looked at their portraits and beamed with pride saying they had died honourably and brought great glory even in death. He had then promptly struck Ceten, calling him a failure before retiring for the night. Now his only living child stood shoulder to shoulder with him to avenge their fallen and kill as many of these Humans and Gal as possible. Many stories had reached them long before the fall of Geeda, tales of how the Humans shape shifted and could punch threw iron walls as easily as one may tear through paper.

Small lights shun behind them so that those who’s jobs it was the reload rifles and fire home made mortars could see what they were doing but it was only just enough to see. Beyond the barricade Ceten could barley see his hand in front of his face, he looked up wishing things were like they were in his books. Clear skies that shun with the light of the moon at night and burned with the heat of the sun, and stars, oh how he wanted to see stars. To find the constellations old Benemar used to sail the oceans and navigate at night before the compass.

Whispers were the only audible noise that he heard other than the breathing of his father and beating of his own heart. His father then turned to him and glared at him.

“Be ready son, a flare is about to go up”

“Yes father” he whispered before passing the message to the warrior to his right. Besides everything he was happy, his father had called him son, he had not done that for a very long time. He steadied his rifle and knew that the Humans must be out there, the flare went up and indeed, they were.


Ceten’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped, the Humans were standing only five feet from the barricade in complete silence. It was not just a few either, they stood shoulder to shoulder glaring at him and there must have been thousands of them. How long had they been there? Why had they waited for the flare? Such thoughts left him as the Human in front of him grabbed his rifle with a speed he could not follow struck him. The last he remembered were the shouts and cries of his townsmen as the Humans leaped over the barricade and began their work. Then everything went black.


He awoke some hours later, he knew because it was day and from the height of the sun it was coming to near midday. He had fallen under the barricade and lost conciseness from hitting his head. Grunting as he rose he put his hand to the back of his head and felt for a wound, there was none and he was thankful. Movement above him made him freeze, a Gal was walking along the barricade and moving some things. Looking around he saw the remains of his town, much of the buildings had been burned caught up in the fighting and most likely any Benemar they found were slaughtered. The Humans and their Gal allies had made themselves at home, they moved and looked just as terrifying as the books said. He knew all about the last war and the last time the Humans came to Bento Prime. How they devoured their dead and cooked their still living prisoners alive. He had no wish to die that way, he had no wish to die at all but it seemed that that decision may not be his. He would have to stay exactly where he was until the Humans moved on, most likely after they had devoured everything they could and their hunger spurred them on again looking for new hunting grounds. Luckily some debris from the barricade had fallen on him making a kind of cave that he could stay under and if he was careful watch what was happening outside. But for all his fear he was still curious and wanted to learn about these creatures.

For the most part the Humans did not seem to act too different than his own people, they stood around and spoke to each other and their Gal friends. They drank and ate and were generally just going about their business. But he never saw any of their weapons, not a single one was carrying a rifle, he shifted to look out another part of the wrecked barricade hoping to see this towering machines that walked but it was nowhere in sight.

He scoffed to himself disappointed he would not get to see one, his friends would have been so jealous to hear he saw a walking tower machine. Then the thought occurred, what friends? He had only a few and they were all most likely dead now as they were manning the barricade with him.

And his father? His father had been there and called him his son. Tears came and he struggled and fought the urge to cry. “Only breeders cry” he repeated his fathers words. But he couldn’t help it, he loved his father for all his faults.  

“I found a survivor!” sounded a Human above him looking down through the wooden planks and was beginning to shift them. Panic gripped him like a vine and he thrashed and screamed at them to get away and leave him alone, only then did he notice his leg was caught.

“His leg is pinned under the wreckage” the Human called jumping down and other Humans came to help. The barricade that he had fought on was shifted with surprising ease and a Gal tentacle reached in and pulled him free. He screamed as the Humans gathered around him, they were going to tear him apart and eat him he knew it. He cried and thrashed waiting for the moment he felt their teeth on his skin. But it never came, he stopped shouting and slowly calmed down his eyes low and slowly looked at the one Human holding onto his arm, smiling at him.

It was a warm smile meant to comfort him and she showed no sign of aggression, she was not even armoured or armed. He looked around and the other Humans were also smiling at him and the Gal hung back behind them.

“Have you calmed down now?” said the female human who had hold of his arm.

“Um…yes” he said meekly.

Her smiled widened and a small chair was placed behind him and she placed him on it while another Human inspected his injured leg.

“A small cut, nothing broken, you’re a tough one” he said and reached into his bag “This will stop it getting infected” the Human said and sprayed something on his leg that stung a little and was bandaged. Then the Human got up and handed him a small white stick with a ball on the tip that was orange in colour, patted him on the head and left.

He looked at the strange thing the Human had gave him and looked at the others who giggled, the female who sat beside him took it and took off the small wrapping and put the lolly in his mouth. His mouth exploded with the sweet taste and his smile brought one to hers.

“My name is Karen, what’s yours?”

“C-c-…Creten” he whispered the lolly still in his mouth.

“Nice to meet you Creten, are you hungry?”

He nodded and she took his hand and lead him through the Human camp.

He looked around as he was lead past countless Humans who all smiled at him or greeted him warmly, he began to wonder if these were Humans at all, they were nothing like they were supposed to be in his books. The Gal even watched him but showed more a curious interest than an intent to kill.

Then they reached a place where there were more Benemar.

“Farther!” Creten screamed and ran into his fathers embrace, he was horrified to see his father had lost his right arm but he was hugged all the tighter with his left.

“My son” he said as Creten buried his head in his fathers chest tears once more flowing freely.

“Ah perfect timing” Karen said as one of the cooks came pushing a trolley.

“We know you are purely carnivores but we did not want to give you just plain chicken so we made you all chicken soup” he called to the Benemar who all regarded him with a mixture of hatred and suspicion.

Creten moved and went to him and was handed a bowl and poured some and handed a spoon, he turned and ran back to his father and gave it to him. His father looked at it and at his son who had gone back for his own.

Creten sat down in front of his father and began eating this Human food they had been given. None of the Benemar moved and the cook was standing there waiting patiently for the others to decide to move on their own. His son was eating it vigorously, he had not eaten anything like it and was incredibly hungry. Creten’s father looked around, they were not held in a prison, there was not even a fence, there was just a small area next to a tank with some sheets thrown over them to shield them from the sun and wind. There were not even any guards, where these Humans so confident that they did not even guard them. He looked down at the bowl seeing the different colours of the soup as the Human had called it, slowly he took a mouthful and seeing one of their elders eating the others slowly made their way to get their own helping.

Ash (part1)

The campus has always had places of in-between; between our world and theirs, between magic and mundane, Fae and human, and there are those of the Fae that treasure these places of in-between greatly. Their little… projects.

I9 was one such project, all the students were sure. The building had been on campus for as long as anyone could remember, it refused to show up on any map, and had withstood every try at getting it removed. It didn’t really ‘fit’ with the rest of the campus, although somehow, sometimes, it seemed to fit far too well. Sitting just beyond the dense tree line of the forest, I9 was a small, old, cottage with thatched roof, and a happily running stream the only thing between it and the trees.

No one had lived there since… well, no one could quite agree on the last person who had lived there, some remembered it being a girl from an arts major. Others argued it had been a boy from chemistry. Some others put in that maybe it hadn’t been a student at all. Whoever they were, they hadn’t lasted long, hardly a month before being taken.

The Fae were all unusual, unpredictable, unsettling, but the one that took an interest in this place had something most others did not, patience and persistence.

The girl had applied late, to only do one unit a term, and to live on campus. Her high school marks were nothing special, hardly enough to graduate let alone to be considered for somewhere as prestigious as Elsewhere University. The admin staff placed her immediately in the rejected pile, but every morning they would find the application back on their desk. After a week, one member of staff decided to just shred the damn thing, but sure enough, the next day there it was again. After that, they all agreed that the choice had been made for them. When the paperwork came through though, and I9 came out no matter what room anyone typed or even wrote on the forms, that’s when they started to worry. Someone had been chosen again.

Maybe some members of staff (those who knew the history of I9) tried to warn the girl, tried to change fate, but in the end the acceptance letter still went out, and the room number was still unchanged.

Ash was all anxiety, and depression, and layer upon layer of shaky coping mechanisms that she’d built up over the years. She didn’t know anyone at Elsewhere, and didn’t have any friends from anywhere else either. Her parents had moved away to start new lives, and after two painful years of self-doubt and second-guessing, she had finally decided to try for uni. It wasn’t that she wasn’t intelligent, just that she was… different. She never kept friends, always talked to herself or to animals rather than other people, she never seemed to fit in with anyone, and often got on teachers nerves for being too reserved, and so her schooling had suffered. She knew she could do well she just needed time.

Things were strange when Ash got to campus. She wasn’t in one of the communal dorms like she had expected, instead she found her room number carved on the door of an old cottage by the forest edge. She watched the other students for a while, all of them avoiding the path down to the little cottage, all of them taking care not to walk on the little flowers that grew out the front. It took her a good twenty minutes to convince herself to go knock on the door, after all it wouldn’t be the first time someone had tried to mess with the new kid.

She could hear other students whispering as they passed, their eyes boring into her back as she walked to the door. It made her skin crawl and her hairs stand on end, like something was about to attack. She fumbled for her keys and found they were no longer the generic store cut keys she had collected, but one heavy, black, old iron key, it fit the lock though and she took respite within the tiny cottage.

Inside it was small, dark, and smelled of old books and dust. Beyond the entrance was a small sitting room, its walls lined with bookshelves stuffed to the brim with books. A little kitchen with old-fashioned fittings was to the left, a brightly lit study nook to the right, its windows large and filled with overgrown potted herbs and plants. Just past the sitting room was a cosy bedroom with a little bathroom hidden behind one of the wardrobe doors, Ash wondered what else was hidden in here.

The trees outside rustled and birds began to caw as she set down her things and took in her new home. It was strange, and eerie, and her cheeks still burned with the students whispers, but it felt oddly safe within these walls, as if she truly had come home.

Students in class were nicer than she had experienced in high school, though some of them refused to meet her eyes. Others insisted on giving her handfuls of little diner salt packets, which was odd at first. It took some time for her to believe this wasn’t some kind of cruel joke at her expense, but after a while she recognised it as something good. One guy even came up to her and shoved a little hand full of nuts and bolts strung together on a thin chain into her hand and muttered a brief ‘hang in there’ before strolling off.

Well she had heard rumours about people at Elsewhere being superstitious, she just hadn’t quite expected it to be this full on. Some students even had their own small rituals they performed before entering certain classes. Even with all the odd around her though, she still felt that she wasn’t exactly part of it all, she was still an outsider, as she had always been, never quite fitting in anywhere.

The first week passed uneventfully. Though the students in class weren’t cruel, they didn’t sit with her if at all possible, politely making their excuses before moving away if she sat at their table. By the end of the week she felt as alone as she had ever been, something she had grown quite used to.

The weekend came quickly and soon enough second week began. Ash sat at the back of the lecture theatre expecting to again be surrounded by empty seats, but this time a boy sat beside her. He had the most amazing eyes all glitter and angles. He didn’t say a word to her but watched like a hawk when she scratched out a few lines of a small poem before the lecture began. He was… odd, but the company was comfortable.

After that lecture the whispering became worse. She would catch snippets of ‘did you see their eyes?’, ‘definitely one of them’, ‘she didn’t even notice’ as she walked passed. Her cheeks burning with embarrassment, she quickly headed back towards I9. Just outside I9 though she was stopped  by the yowling of an animal in terrible pain. In the bushes was a small white cat tangled in some wires, everyone else was hurrying passed without even a glance its way. The thing was making such an awful noise she had half expected the bite of razorwire as she freed the creature, but it was just plain old wire. She could have sworn though, as the cat scampered off across the stream and into the forest, that as it turned away it suddenly had too many eyes, all glitter and angles, but she couldn’t be sure.

After that, things were… stranger. The shadows around the cottage felt deeper than was possible, wind chimes that had been taken down long before Ash had gotten there chimed happily in the dead still air, and there was a lingering smell of honey and wet fur.

She knew something was wrong when she woke the next morning. The feeling stole over her in cold waves of panic, something was different, something was wrong, something had happened. When she looked in the mirror she saw that the eyes staring back at her were wrong, they seemed to stare much much farther than a reflection should be able, and glinted with the colours of the aurora borealis. She heard the purring of a cat as tears welled in her beautiful, wrong, eyes.

It was late afternoon when she finally left I9 again, and slowly she realised her eyes weren’t the only things that had changed. She could see… things… playing in the trees just passed the stream. Things covered in fur and claws, and feathers, and bone. There was a lady at the other end of the path watching her closely, a small cat curled around her legs. Her eyes drifted past Ash, and Ash turned to see what had caught her gaze. It was a basket filled with… things. There was a bunch of rotten bananas, some plants that looked rather a lot like weeds still with their roots attached covered in dirt, a couple of lengths of string, a frayed bit of cloth, and a handful of stones and little bones. In a voice like dripping blood, and splintering bones the lady spoke to Ash ‘A small gift for my Girl Between. A basket of favours yet made, promises yet to come, use my gift well little one, I’ll know if you waste it’. When Ash blinked the lady was gone, and she was left alone with the basket of things, and a cat that definitely had too many eyes.

[x]

anonymous asked:

Do you have any headcannons on hidden talents the tog characters have ?? Like idk singing or dancing or juggling or drawing or making up hilarious limericks on the spot or baking fucking amazing bread or just being really good at frenchbraids ?? I don't really know where I'm going with this I just thought it would be interesting to ask !

I’m including ACOTAR characters too.

Each and every member of the Thirteen is a FANTASTIC singer. On the level of sirens, only everyone is mesmerized by their voices.

Chaol can juggle. He started doing it one say for shits in his office, and found out that he is actually good at it.

Dorian can do the splits. He is actually quite limber.

Cassian quilts. Rhys’s mom taught the boys how to mend their own clothing, but she used to stay up quilting, and Cassian used to help. His brother’s don’t know this. But he can sew a mean quilt. And when Rhys’s mom died, he asked Rhys is he could keep some of her quilts and Rhys let him. He keeps them in a locked trunk in his house. But his favorite one hands on the wall. It’s both a work of art and a memoriam to the only mother he ever knew.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

DA:I request please, where Quizzie wasn't paying attention and walked right into some skunks? GIFS are awesome too

Fun fact: tomato juice is a lie and doesn’t get rid of the smell. 

Everyone cringes so hard it physically hurts, combined with screams and groans. 

Cassandra: She covers her mouth in shock, then her nose as the smell hits her. She grimaces and groans and her face is wrinkled into an expression of utter disgust as she tries to speak. “Back to camp, now. You’re staying at the edge of camp. Downwind .” If Romanced: She feels bad about sending him away from camp, but it’s for the sake of everyone else in camp. She brings him books where he sits and hopes the stench doesn’t permeate her or the books, and consults the others for a quicker cure than time– for him AND her.

Blackwall: Skunks are one of the many dangers of the Hinterlands. He handles the stench better than most, taking it in stride as he helps them move their stuff to the edge of camp. He’s also one of the few that will go hang out with them until the smell is gone. If Romanced: He was walking with her and tried to jump in the way a second too late, and both get sprayed and exiled to the edge of camp. “Well,” he grunts, “at least we stink together.”

Iron Bull: “Phew.” he grunts bluntly. “Alright, come on, we’ll get you somewhere downwind until we get the smell off.” He proceeds to dump an unnamed poultice on them courtesy of Stitches, and they complain it burns as he does so. “Good, that means it’s burning it off,” he says cheerfully, a clothespin on his nose, “I had to do this to some of the Chargers once. I swear it works.” If Romanced: Like Blackwall, he ends up getting sprayed, too, and both sit at the edge of camp as he waits for either Stitches or Vivienne to bring a poultice to get rid of the smell. “It’s not so bad, Kadan,” he says, trying to cheer them up, “so we smell like ass. At least no one wants to ambush us like this.”

Sera: “Gross! Gross, gross, gross, eckkk, you stink!” she cries nasally as she covers her nose. “I told you not to just go stompin’ around like that! Nasty little bastards got you!” She avoids them and pinches her nose tight if she has to speak to them, but sometimes shoots arrows with messages over to their spot of exile. Sorry you stink worse than shite, it says. If Romanced: She’s trying everything, from dumping random elixirs on them to squeezing tomatoes on them, until finally she asks Vivienne for help. “Make her smell better,” she groans, “so I can kiss her again without smelling as bad as her.”

Varric: He doubles back, groaning, and he winces at them as he covers his mouth and nose. “Come on,” he groans, “let’s… get you out of here. Maker, this is why I hate the outdoors.” As they get treated with a poultice later, he strolls up with a clothespin and promises not to include this in his story.

Cole: The smell doesn’t bother him in the least; it’s the hurt and humiliation that the Inquisitor feels, as well as the pain of the party members. “The skunks were scared,” he apologizes on their behalf, “you just surprised them. They wouldn’t have if they knew you were scared, too.” He’s the only one that will sit with them the whole time without complaint.

Dorian: Skunks don’t live as far north as Tevinter, and when the smell hits him for the first time, he gags and dry-heaves, trying really hard to not vomit. His stomach can’t handle the stench. “How do we get the smell off of them?!” he begs the others. “Because it’s hurting me as much as them!” If Romanced: He feels bad that he can’t go comfort his amatus, but he’ll actually start throwing up if he’s by him for too long. He’s also mortified by the idea of the smell getting stuck on him, so he settles for shooting paper airplanes at them with messages of love. 

Solas: He grimaces and tries to maintain his composure, but the Herald saw the stinkface he made. He tries to stay polite, but the smell is nauseating him. He consults spirits in the Fade and old memories for possible cures. If Romanced: He tries to assure her that he’ll find a solution quickly, and talks to her at length in the Fade because the smell in the real world doesn’t follow. “You’re handling this worse than I am.” she remarks dryly, and he declines to comment.

Vivienne: She tries to handle it pragmatically as she holds a handkerchief to her face and orders them downwind of camp. She consults her books for a poultice that can get rid of the stench after Sera’s attempt with tomato juice fails, and she goes into town, buys ingredients, and makes a cure. They thank her profusely, and she sighs and nods. “Believe me, Darling, it was for our sakes as much as yours. Do be more careful in the future.”

Josephine: Horrified screaming results, and she suddenly regrets not telling them to not go investigate the strange noises under the tavern. She feels really bad as she’s forced to boot them from Skyhold to a small tent just outside until the problem is solved, but she, like Dorian and Solas, get physically nauseous by the smell. If Romanced: She feels SO BAD for not being able to visit them without getting sick. She’s begging the others to help her find a solution, and is surprised to find Leliana knows one. Lots of hugs after it’s over, though.

Leliana: She immediately writes up a cure and sends it to Adan to craft with haste. She shrugs as Josephine asks her why she knows it. “Alistair and the Warden’s dog got sprayed once when we were travelling Ferelden during the Blight. It’s not the worst thing that can happen. In the meanwhile, someone should fetch the humane traps to escort our guests out of Skyhold…”

Cullen: He hears about it after the fact– or smells it, rather, and knows someone’s been sprayed, but he didn’t expect it’d be the Herald. He doesn’t seem particularly bothered by it, and tells his gagging soldiers to pull themselves together. If Romanced: He feels so bad for her. He goes and stays with her until Adan has the cure, and insists he doesn’t mind. “I’m more concerned about how you’re feeling. Maker knows that can’t have been pleasant.” 

Can You Feel It? (pt 1/2) [M]

Summary: Yeo One is your true enemy. He tries to take over your student council duties daily. He’s always flaunting his popularity. He always has something smart ass to say to you or about you. So what happens when you find him tied up in the classroom after hours? You can do anything to him that you want. Revenge might feel great, but who would have the last word?

Warnings: Bondage, orgasm denial, various kinks, exhibitionism, all sorts of lechery. It’s all in good fun, though.

Note: Extremely dirty. I would like to apologize for writing this in advance. OTL Read at your own risk. I know Changgu would never be a jerk like this but wouldn’t it be fun if he was? Also, I know nothing about Student Council so I just made everything up! Hooray!


As I walked into the classroom on Friday morning I saw the usual sight. Changgu hadn’t picked up the materials for today’s class and instead he was sitting at his desk with his friends surrounding him, talking animatedly and laughing. No doubt he was telling fantastic stories about his latest date.

I shoved my way through the throng of overly tall boys who were his friends. “Changgu, did you get the homeroom materials for today?”

Changgu sighed at having his story interrupted. He looked at me dismissively, straightening his tie. “Can’t you do it?”

“Why would I do it? It’s your job, not mine.”

“But I’m busy right now,” he said, having the nerve to give me his stupid aegyo face – the one with the big innocent eyes and puffy baby cheeks. “Can’t you do it?”

He always does this. He expects to get away with everything. He’s always shirking his duties as Vice President simply because he is hot and popular and everyone likes him. If he thinks the same childish act he uses on other girls will work on me, he can think again.

“I have to prepare for the student council meeting. I have things to do right now. So you go do it. Also, I need the agenda for today’s Student Council meeting,” I said, sticking my hand out.

He’d better have done it or I swear to God. The school festival starts next week and I have too many things to do. Not to mention my own VP will be no help at all.

“Uh….” He said, scratching his ear and looking around guiltily.

All his friends began to snicker, knowing that he hadn’t done it and that I would get angry, as I always did.

“Did you not do it? Again?!” I cried. “How hard is it, Changgu?”

“I just got busy last night. I had a date with a very hot girl. I mean you should have seen her. I was just in the middle of telling everyone about it, but then you ruined it,” he told me, frowning dramatically.

“How can you say something like that with a straight face?” I questioned.

“Come on, you’re a straight A student, it’s nothing for you to write up the agenda right quick,” said E Dawn. “Right?”

I stared at him so coldly it made him visibly wither. I pointed a finger to Changgu. “This jerk right here is a straight A student too! And even if he wasn’t, he should do the things he’s responsible for, right?”

Everyone began to sigh and go back to their seats, complaining that I killed the fun and ruined their joy, calling me a killjoy and a warden. Changgu fake coughed into his hand while saying the word “Buzzkill!”

Keep reading