trying one from every batch really takes it out of you

Being Roommates with Overwatch Characters:

Genji: Very quiet and respectful, never eats your food. But he never sleeps, so that can get awkward. Sometimes he does his ninja training in the living room at like 3am. When you go down to yell at him he has mysteriously vanished…

McCree: Super friendly, super messy. He will always invite you into his room to watch this cool video he found on YouTube that you’ve certainly already seen, but he just found it. He thinks the fridge is more of a communal zone. You can take his food, and he can take your’s. He prefers to cook meals to share though, not that he’s any good at cooking. Is often hungover in the mornings.

Pharah: Isn’t home a lot. She’s very focused on her career. Her interactions with you are very formal at first, kinda stiff and awkward. It will either stay that way forever, or one night of drinking and video games will break the ice and give you a million inside jokes.

Reaper: Just the worst roommate ever. The second he’s done with something, he drops it on the ground. Beer bottles? Check. Towel? Yep. Laundry? You once found a pair of his boxers in the refrigerator for fucks sake Reyes, why is this here? NEXT TO MY MILK! He always claims he was the last one who did dishes. He never does dishes.

Soldier 76: The weird roommate you met through Craigslist who seems quiet and reserved at first, but once he gets going on his conspiracy theories and how THE SYSTEM IS BROKEN he will never shut up. Constantly plays CoD on the couch. Never seems to go to work, but always pays rent on time. Does the chores with military precision.

Tracer: Lives outside of time, quite literally. So be prepared to remind her of appointments, when rent is due, that it is not in fact the weekend so could she stop playing Just Dance so loud past eleven? It’s frustrating, but she’s so much fun to be around you forgive her.  She is on first name basis with all the bartenders in the neighborhood, and drinking with her is always an epic adventure.

Bastion: You bought this old thing on eBay. They said it was non-functional, but it immediately sprang to life in your apartment. It spends all its time out on the balcony, where a flock of birds have made it their home. Every once in a while you wake up in the middle of the night to find it crouched in the corner of your room in turret mode. Then you realize someone was being loud outside and it got scared.

Hanzo: There are two Hanzos. Calm, collected, brooding Hanzo, and I’LL TELL YOU WHEN I’VE HAD ENOUGH SAKEsshdhshjkfk Hanzo. Hanzo is normally very organized, his room his spartan and he made a chore schedule that he treats like it is law. But about two times a week he gets shit faced on expensive sake, cries about his brother, tries to fight a house plant (claiming it knows nothing of honor when he falls on his ass), and ends the evening on the balcony, pegging passersby with perfect precision with YOUR HOTDOGS THAT HE STOLE FROM THE FRIDGE, HANZO COME INSIDE.

Junkrat: Just, an absolute disaster. Your apartment has become a junkyard. Scraps of machines all of the place. And it smells terrible because he’s constantly mixing weird chemicals in the bathtub. You’ve started showering at the gym, and are terrified when you have to pee. You’ve had three minor fires in the place since he moved in, and you’re pretty sure he’s a criminal. You’d call the cops, but his… boyfriend? You’re not sure. His giant man partner keeps coming around and staring at you silently and you’re just trying to stay alive, okay?

Mei: Is terribly sweet and friendly, but messy and forgetful. You can’t get mad at her, because she always apologizes profusely when she forgets to do the dishes or take out the trash or that this is her week to buy toilet paper. She’s often wrapped up in her work, and loves to go on exuberant explanations of the science involved that you don’t even half understand. But you smile and nod along. She’s just so excited, you can’t interrupt her. Her bedroom is cluttered with items she collected from her travels and adventures, mixed with scientific equipment and climbing gear. She always wants you to come on nature hikes. They are beautiful but exhausting. That girl has boundless energy. The only time she gets mad is if you try to throw away a recyclable.

Torbjörn: He is constantly making noise, hammering, laughing like a maniac, riveting??? WTF is he doing in his room???? He’s very cranky and opinionated (do not bring up Omnics, trust me), but after a few beers he has some of the most amazing stores you’ve ever heard. He keeps his mess to his room and only forgets to do his chores every once in a while. But food in the fridge is going to disappear and he’ll get very defensive when you ask him about it. Also, long golden beard hairs! EVERYWHERE! in the bathroom! Clean out the drain when you’re done!

Widowmaker: The most intimidating person you’ve ever lived with. Hell, ever met. She will walk around in nothing but a towel, but it’s actually kind of terrifying? Like she’s daring you to say something to her??? You’re pretty sure she’s killed at least two people in the neighborhood. No one can prove it. You feel like she’s constantly watching you in your room… you’ve looked for cameras and found nothing. She leaves for days at a time, and then suddenly appears silently in the middle of the apartment. You didn’t hear the front door open????? WTF IS HAPPENING???? She leaves all the chores to you, will pretend she only speaks French if she’s not in the mood to talk to you. You’re pretty sure you’re going to be found dead in the bathtub and there will be no records of your roommate…

D.Va: Almost never does chores, acts like she did you a favor when she finally washes a single dish. Is constantly live streaming from the couch. You haven’t been able to watch TV since she moved in. She invites you to play games just to utterly destroy your ass at them. She got sponsored by Doritos and Mountain Dew so now the apartment is full of that crap. She acts like that’s her contribution to groceries because she saw you eat a chip. You thought she hated you until someone on her stream called you a loser and she tore them a new asshole. Is this what having a sister is like???

Reinhardt: Snores like a freight train is rumbling through the apartment. You can hear it through the walls. Through your earplugs. Nothing helps. He is incredibly helpful and friendly though. Always does his chores, does a few of your’s if you don’t stop him. Loves to cook dinner, but will always make the weirdest German fusion food. Any nice thing you do for him gets the most enthusiastic thanks that it makes you want to do nice things for him all the time.

Roadhog: You’ve seen some shit, man. Shit you can never tell anyone. Mostly because it would damage Roadhog’s bad ass reputation, and you will not make him angry. His room is full of plushies. He sleeps on them in a big pile. He spends all day playing Animal Crossing and he helps paint your nails. His weirdo boyfriend? You don’t know, small manic man partner comes over sometimes, but you managed to get them to not set off any explosions in the house(by claiming to protect the plushies). When Roadhog first showed up, you were terrified. But he’s turned out to be a really sweet guy. When you’re not on his shit list. You will do anything not to get on the shit list… A UPS driver damaged his limited edition Rainbow Sparkle Bear, and you heard the screams……..

Winston: Spends all his time in his room on his computer. He’s nice enough when he comes out, but that’s usually only for more peanut butter. He’s kind of shy and awkward around you at first, but one day you ask about the glory days of Overwatch, and you get a story hour of epic proportions. After that he is your buddy. Tracer comes by sometimes, always bringing a fresh batch of bananas. Winston tries to act insulted, but you always catch him eating them later. He forgets to do his chores, a lot. He always promises he’ll get around to them. After this experiment is finished… It never gets done.

Zarya: Your living room is now a gym. She moved in a professional looking weight set and bench. “This is just for casual,” she tells you. She constantly makes “helpful” remarks about your physique. She thinks if you just did some deadlifts, your legs would be much stronger. Much more solid. You are like noodle. She tries to train you on the weight set in the living room. She proves that she can benchpress you, and then gives you some fifty pound weights “For a warm up”. May god have mercy on your soul.

Lúcio: Just the nicest roommate ever. He will sit on the couch with you until 3 am talking through your problems. He baked you a cake on your birthday. Is it your day to do chores? He saw you weren’t feeling well, so he just did them this morning. Don’t worry about it, fam, I got you. He only asks you for things on behalf of others. Will you help him organize a fundraiser for the local kid’s soccer organization? Come to a protest to improve the working conditions in factories? Could you maybe drop off this extra portion of dinner to the old lady next door on your way out? Say hi to her cats for him. The only thing that can be annoying is he can get lost in his music and forget that it’s super late. But when that wakes you up, you usually just go and sit down in his room and watch him work on his latest tracks.

Mercy: You really won’t see her that often. She is an incredibly overworked doctor. She is a very kind and patient person, but you can tell she is constantly bone tired. You don’t even ask her to do chores, you just do them all yourself. She barely ever uses dishes or makes a mess anyway. She leaves you little cakes she bought at the bodega as a thank you every now and then. Most of your communication is through post it notes, as you are often on completely different schedules. She seems nice, but you don’t really know her.

Symmetra: Everything has to be just so. She doesn’t even let you do chores, she doesn’t trust that you did them right. She will say the bathroom is filthy when it looks sparkling to you. She is constantly creating little robots to do work for her, so you don’t feel too bad letting her clean? She is incredibly sheltered, and can get hostile when you challenge her world view. But at the same time, you can tell she’s lonely and hurting. With small gestures here and there, maybe you can become friends.

Zenyatta: Just, the chillest bro you have ever met. He floats around the apartment and doesn’t eat anything so he doesn’t cause messes. He still helps with the chores, because it is more balanced that way. When you go through a break up he will listen and give you advice that honestly makes you feel better. He invites you to mediate, and makes it sound like a really great activity. His pupil, Genji, is always coming around. Zenyatta is so happy to see him. Neither of them eat, but Genji makes you ramen sometimes and its SO GOOD. They are both cinnamon rolls, and your life is better for knowing them. Occasionally Zenyatta knocks something over as he floats by, but that’s about the only drawback.

Things You Can Definitely Buy From the Dollar Store: A Guide to Being Poor


Band-aids- You can probably get a box of 100 or so for a buck
Light Pads- Not tampons, because you really shouldn’t skimp on tampon quality, and if you have a seriously heavy flow, I would consider a sturdier brand, but for just some just-in-case panty liners or your last couple days, a 20 pack of liners for $1 is pretty sweet
Pain Relievers- it depends on how many are in the bottle and what your local prices are, so check what it costs for a big bottle at Walmart with 100 in it, vs the 25 in the dollar store bottle. It takes a little math, but sometimes it can save a lot of money to by 4 (25ct) bottles for $4 instead of 1 (100 ct) bottle for $7
Nail Polish & Makeup- If you aren’t picky about brands, Dollar stores have some good ones sometimes. LA Colors is a makeup brand that Dollar Tree sells, among other stores, and most of its makeup is pretty good. ELF is something common at dollar stores, as well, and is pretty darn good for $1-3. I would stay away from Dollar Store foundation and concealers if you haven’t tried it out before or seen good reviews though
Dishes- A dish is a dish is a dish, man. Don’t waste $50 on your first dish set after moving out of your parent’s house. It really isn’t worth it—moving for college, a new apartment every year your lease is up, roommates, parties, exploding in microwaves, soon-to-be-ex throwing them at your head and whatnot: they’re going to get trashed. When you have a steady job, your own house and want to entertain, then go to Bed, Bath, and Beyond and buy the nicest set of dishes you can find. Until then, Goodwill  and Dollar Store dishes are for you. In my opinion, it’s actually more fun to have miss-matched dishes, but if it’s not for you, you can totally buy matches from Dollar Tree. I’ve actually seen some pretty nice ones.
Books- Find something interesting? Go for it. Book is a Book is a Book. Sometimes they even have pretty good ones, it’s worth checking next time you’re in the store
Pregnancy/Ovulation Tests- It’s been proven that the cheapos are just as accurate as the $10 apiece ones. If you have a late period or are feeling paranoid, don’t waste huge money on name brands.
Food- Dollar stores have really evolved when it comes to food. Some even have frozen sections! Be careful, as sometimes the almost empty boxes are actually MORE MONEY per oz. but all in all, you can get some good deals if you look for them. Keep an eye on expiration dates though—there is a reason it’s in the dollar store. Do NOT buy spices from discount stores! If it’s a name brand, that’s fine, but the cheapo brands make spice “mixes” and “Blends” that are usually full of salt to make them cheaper to produce—this is unhealthy for you because if you are seasoning something and want more flavor, you use more spice mix, but you’re adding more salt. Total high sodium risk
• Cleaning Supplies: It all depends on what you can find, of course. But dryer sheets, sponges, toilet bowl cleaner, etc. are all pretty standard and aren’t going to be very different if you spend $1 on it or $10. If you buy one and it doesn’t work for you, or feels ineffective then spring for a more expensive version, but the cheap is always worth a try.
Candles + Incense: some of them actually smell pretty good and you can find a good deal every once in a while. They have pretty nice candle holders sometimes, as well

Things you SHOULDN’T buy from the dollar store
• Spices: As noted earlier, Spice “mixes” usually contain a lot of salt and other filler, so when you go to add more seasoning for more flavor, you just end up with more salt. It’s really unhealthy, over all, and being a low-income or likely in college person can already put you at risk for unhealthy eating. Spring for the real stuff, I promise it’s worth it
• Office/School Supplies: Okay, this may just be personal experience, but I have to be honest, I have not had any kind of luck with pens, pencils, or even the paper. A lot of the notebooks are actually cheaper at a regular store, especially in the fall, and it’s better to stock up on $.20 each then than pay $1 per notebook later. Your individual stores may have better options, but I’ve never found discounted office things (especially pens, ugh!) to be worth the slightly lower price once you factor in the ease with which they break, how quickly they run out of ink and whatnot.
Razors: No. Just, just don’t do it—your skin will thank me later
• Candy: most small snack and candy items are old, from bad batches, or are mostly empty boxes—as well as usually being overpriced. If you need your chocolate to indulge, do it right and spend the same, if not less, amount of money on better candy.
Anything you find questionable: use your gut. It something seems too good to be true, or doesn’t feel right, don’t bother with it. Use your judgement!

The Road To Good Grades

[Warning - A Very Lengthy Post]

A fellow student of mine wrote this when for my batch when we entered high school, and I thought I should share it with you ❤️ it’s been edited to make it more universal to you guys :D

Intro: Having the Courage to Study.
When we fail academically, we tend to point to two causes: stupidity and laziness. It’s so easy to say that we’re not smart enough, or that we just don’t want to try because it doesn’t really matter. But there’s another factor involved: fear. So many students have the strategy of not studying or not studying properly for an exam. Why? Because if you put low effort into something, then you should expect a low result. So many of us are afraid of trying and failing that we don’t even try. “What if my best isn’t good enough?” We’re afraid of giving our best because once we know our limits, we feel that much weaker. But life in school isn’t about not trying, it’s about accepting those limits and breaking them.To survive and ultimately thrive, you must have the courage to reach your full potential.That courage, that vigor, that strive to be better is what will keep you alive, not just in school but in the real world.

Guide:
- Sleep and Eat well.
We often lose sleep or skip meals in order to survive the rigors of life.But keep in mind, those choices in the rest and nourishment you receive have consequences. Having the energy to focus throughout the day is vital. Nobody wants to be tired, nobody can afford to be sick.

- Pay Attention in Class.
There’s a difference between passive hearing and active listening. Letting the teacher’s words wash over you like a warm shower is NOT the same as paying attention. Teachers are human beings, capable of expressing emotion and emphasis in their words and actions. There’s a reason why you learn from them rather than from a book or the internet. Catching what they’re trying to say is a skill that takes effort to learn.

**The skill of listening is one of the most important ones to develop because a teacher’s words are your last resort in an examination. If a quiz catches you by surprise, your memory of the class is the difference between A+ and an F.

- Take USABLE Notes.
Normally, humans are not capable of memorizing lessons entirely in their head.That’s what notes are for. Keep in mind that notes should be USABLE, they are not things that you make for the sake of looking or feeling productive. Each person has a specific style of learning and their notes should reflect that. Notes that are too long/elaborate, too short/simple, unreadable, or illogical are detrimental. Good notes should be aids in studying, not justification for carrying notebooks.

**Tips:
- Save time by using abbreviations or acronyms.
- Rearrange/reconstruct words or phrases for convenience.
ex. Famous Authors of America –> Impt. American Authors.
- Avoid copying verbatim unless necessary (quotes).
- Write down examples, esp. in science/math related subjects.
- If notes are incomplete, supplement them via reliable sources or your teacher.

- Practice.
There is more to studying than reading/note-taking. Practice is essential. This is especially true for Math-related subjects. Reading your notes before a Math exam is not really going to help you understand the problem or protect you from careless mistakes. The only way to improve in the subject is by doing the exercises and learning from both your success and failure. Memorizing definitions isn’t as important as using them. Being able to analyze, compare, and contrast is vital to survival.

- Review a Little Bit, Regularly.
Slow and steady wins the race. Students tend to read a ton of material before an exam. However, the human mind requires time in order to fully grasp ideas and concepts. Taking 10-20 minutes to read your notes after school daily can help in memorizing lessons, understanding themes, and recalling important points. Taking every subject’s lessons day by day will prevent you from being overwhelmed.

**Tip:
- When reading through your notes, picture yourself in the classroom with your classmates and teacher. The human mind is like a web, connected by images and sounds. Doing so can help you recall things written on the board or things mentioned by the teacher.

- Learn to Plan and Cram.
Working for the long-term and rushing for the short-term are two opposing ends of the spectrum. But if you don’t master both, you will suffocate in requirements.Time and energy are limited resources and the best scholars know how to get the most out of them. You can’t expect to be able to plan assignments weeks or days in advance the same way you can’t expect to make “academic excellence” in 30 minutes or less like a pizza delivery service.

**Tips:
- Periodic Exams, Long Tests, and Projects REQUIRE planning and coordination.
- Teachers can take up to 5 minutes setting up. Exploit the time.
- Lunchbreak, and the 20 minute breaks are the normal “"cram periods”“.


- Don’t Think of Difficulty.
“Easy” and “Hard” are relative terms. They mean different things to different people and ultimately, they should mean nothing to you. Feeling scared of a “tough” exam is harmful, as is feeling smug about an “easy” one. Study well so you can approach every test with confidence. Remember: it’s just as possible to perfect a difficult test as it is to fail an easy one.

- Don’t Compare Yourself to Others.
The world has approx. 7 billion people. There are always going to be people who are better than you at a given skill, the same way that there will always be people who are worse. Don’t consider them. Your life is your battle, and you’re going to have to fight it for yourself. Being discouraged by your friends’ high scores is as illogical as being encouraged by their low scores. There’s no reason to be proud of 1/10, even if it’s the highest score in the whole class.

- Don’t Blame Teachers.
Not all of your teachers are going to be fair or good at their jobs, whether you like it or not. Regardless, you can’t control your teacher’s incompetence or harshness but you can control the effort you put into their class. Read in advance, find other of info sources, and predict their requirements. The odds may be against you, but as a student you’re expected to beat them.

- Consult.
There’s no shame in asking for help. If you have difficulty in a subject, it always helps to consult with a teacher. Not only does it help in resolving any misconceptions/mistakes, it shows that you’re willing to take the time and effort to do well. To most teachers, that spirit is just as important as the final grade. Note: if a teacher knows that you have difficulty in their subject, they’ll probably take note of it in class which may be to your benefit.

- Find Your Own Strategy/Work Smart.
No single study strategy works universally. Everyone has their own specific style of learning and it’s up to you to find yours. If skimming through readings works for you then go ahead. If you’re the kind that needs to take notes, fine. It’s all about working both hard and smart, giving the most energy but finding the most effective way of using it. Humans are creative creatures. You might find that the best solution is one that no one has thought of before.

- Be Liable.
You need to be proactive in academics. Many students have the tendency to be caught off guard by a surprise quiz. They’ll often argue with the teacher, using the retort “Ma'am, you didn’t announce it!” as an excuse. Shaking off responsibility through ignorance is suicidal in this school. If you’re willing to take the risk of coming to class unprepared for the sake of being lazy, go ahead. Just be prepared for the consequences of your actions.

- Keep Moving Forward.
You’re human. Humans make mistakes. Learn from your errors but leave them where they belong; in the past. Everyone wants to get an A+ but you’ll never go that far with the weight of your failure hanging over your shoulder.

Conclusion: Don’t Take Academics too Seriously.
It seems counter-intuitive to end this guide with a statement like “Don’t Take Academics Too Seriously” but it’s something that everyone should remember. No matter no hard you try, you will fail at something. You’ll reach an obstacle that will knock you down to the ground and it will hurt like hell. You need to have something to fall back; friends, family, a hobby, an interest, etc. You don’t want to graduate and realize that you’re only good at earning numbers in a system.You could graduate this high school with the highest average in history but it won’t matter to anyone if you don’t know how you got it. Life is just like math, it’s not all
about the final answer. Your solution is just as important.

**Ultimately, your success as a scholar isn’t measured by a number on a piece of paper but in the difference you make in people’s lives. We’re not going to carry facts and theorems with us, but an attitude of trying to give our best no matter what the cost. That’s the most important lesson you can ever learn in school, but you’re not going to learn it from one subject or teacher. You’re going to live it everyday through every requirement and every grade receive.

Of Tantrums and Tactics

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: SMUT (Ages 18+)

Summary: Bucky’s been ordered to train you, the new recruit, and sparks fly. Deadly ones. Your arguments and harsh attitude are a lot for him to handle, so one day, he snaps.

Word Count: 3.7k

Request for @purplekitten30 

You charged to the middle of the ring, using little to no tactics, relying on just your strength and pure power as you moved to tackle Steve, but he expertly used your own velocity against you, ducking to the left and grabbing hold of your arm, propelling you backwards. Your back hit the mat with a loud thud, knocking the air right out of your lungs and causing an odd wheezing sound to leave your mouth.

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We know it’s alright

This was supposed to be something short (and by short I mean, only a few sentences initially) but as I was writing it, it went from being a few sentences short to this thing. So here you go! Anyways, hope you enjoy this!

PS: I am trying to get the ships done so that I can continue to work on the one-line sentence starters as well as the first batch of requests I received! Updates might be sparse later because I am not sure if I will be having any decent internet connection – so if you see me updating sporadically, it probably means I queued these posts.


Peter thinks this is probably the last place he should be looking at for comfort but right at that moment, he cannot deny it – you have always been his first thought. He knocks on your door, only a little bit worried that he might be imposing on you or disturbing your sleep (though he knows you rarely ever go to sleep early). But when the door swings open and you are looking fresher than he currently is, all Peter had to do is look at you with a sullen expression. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Oh, Peter. Come here,” You immediately pull him in to your apartment and wrap your arms around him. It takes Peter a while to respond – not that you minded the least because you know Peter still needs some time to cool himself – but when he does, Peter wounds his arms around your waist, tightly, tucking his head against the crook of your neck.

The two of you stand there for the longest time. Throughout the entire time, you continue to rub Peter’s back soothingly, kissing the top of his head affectionately multiple times and every single time you do so, Peter’s hold on you tightens so you simply hold him closer to you.

Peter breathes you in, reveling in your warmth and softness as you rub his back. Call him selfish but he desperately needed this level of comfort only you can give him right now. All he wants right at this moment is to just hold you and for you to hold him back.

Right at that instant, Peter thinks you are the most important thing there is in his life right now, mostly because you are what’s holding him together and grounded. Even when he felt like he had lost sight of what he had wanted and even when he had lost his way – you had been there for him.

Peter knows it had been inevitable – he has always thought he had liked Liz but the past few months, he had thought less of Liz but more of you. So really, it had been a slow realization but Peter knows better now, knows that he has loved you for a while too – it only became clear to him at this instant.

Being in your arms, being able to hear your steady heart beat and to feel the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe – he loves you. Peter still does not have the nerve to actually confess to you – saying those three words out loud scares him a lot. He cannot bear to lose you at all.

Peter feels your fingers gently carding through his hair and a moment later, your hand moves from his hair to cradle his jaw, tilting his face up towards you. The tenderness in your touch makes his head spin and Peter gives you a very small smile.

“Do you want to tell me what’s up?” You ask him softly, caressing his cheek and Peter shakes his head. He had already teared up in front of May earlier and he definitely does not want to tear up in front of you too.

“Alright, how about I make you some tea?” You unwrap your arm from him and makes a turn to head over to the kitchen when Peter simply holds you back, pulling you back in to his arms, surprising you slightly.

You wrap your arms around him nonetheless.

“Can we just stay like this for a while, Y/N?” Peter asks and he presses a kiss on your temple when he feels you nod. Maybe one of these days, he is going to tell you about his alter-ego and the problems he currently has but no, not tonight. Tonight, Peter just wants to have the comfort only you can give.

Warmth

Bellamy X Reader: Angst, smut

Request? Yes:

Bellamy smut where he sees one of the delinquents try to get the reader in bed, and he beats him up. Reader argues with him and he tells her he just wants to protect her, and sweet sex comes afterwards.

Author’s note: I wrote this pretty quickly, so I apologize if it’s got some grammatical/spelling errors. I just wanted to give something to my lovely followers that have stuck with me since the beginning. I really appreciate those of you that haven’t deserted me since the Harry era began. I know it’s probably sort of annoying. Xoxo. Hope you enjoy!


It’s probably been the best night you’ve had on the ground. All of the delinquents are surrounding a monster of a bonfire. There’s been no sign of grounders for a week, and everything seems so peaceful. Monty made up a large batch of moonshine and Finn found a stereo somewhere, complete with a collection of music more than a century old. Everyone is bubbly with alcohol and calmed by the tunes. Even Murphy lets his head bob along to the beat.

Your own body is buzzing with intoxication, just to the point of a pleasurable, meditative happiness. All of your nerves are electrified and the music digs its way to your core. It only takes a few moments of observing the scene before you’re on your feet with another small group of delinquents, swaying with your eyes closed. Nothing matters but the soft beat of the drums and the chill of the air.

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Silent (Soulmate!Thomas Jefferson - Part One)

Originally posted by youforfeitallrights

A/n: My friend is on an internship in New York, and she has tickets to see Hamilton… which got me thinking… I was bored and procrastinating… and I hadn’t written a soulmate AU in years… I need to reclaim my title as soulmate queen. (Also, apologies, I don’t know the tags for this fandom, sooo… This is a thing right?) 

Soulmate AU where the first words your soulmate says to you appear on your arm. Written in third person. Starts in James Madison’s POV then shifts to Thomas Jefferson. No warnings other than Thomas has a bad attitude. 

Part Two     Masterlist

There are three facts about Thomas Jefferson of which James Madison was absolutely certain: 1) Thomas Jefferson does not have a soulmate. 2) Thomas Jefferson doesn’t want one. 3) It’s probably for the best that he doesn’t.

James had known Thomas for many years now, and he doubted any living person knew the man better. Even so, it didn’t take an expert to know Thomas’s view on the subject. Any person with eyes could look down at Thomas’s arm and see it lay bare of words. Any person who’d had a conversation with him on the subject could see he didn’t want to find any words there, and every person who’d ever encountered Thomas, even in passing, had likely come to the same conclusion as James. It was for the best. The universe was saving whatever poor woman would have been latched to him from a life playing second fiddle to Thomas’s ambition and hubris.  

Looking across the banquet hall, James could see Alexander Hamilton, who had been deep in conversation with Thomas for much of the afternoon, coming to those same conclusions. Hamilton had been among the first batch of people to approach Thomas when he arrived, and James barely salvaged a moment to warn Thomas of the situation before he dove into a lengthy discussion with the young immigrant.

James couldn’t decide whether he was amused or terrified. The pair seemed to be amicable enough at the moment, but that could change in a flash. Hamilton and Jefferson were both as stubborn as each other, and they were both fully equipped with sufficient verbal ammunition to break out into an all-out war right in the hall. James had a sneaking suspicion the only reason the two had yet to shed any blood was due to the close proximity of President Washington, the host of tonight’s affair.

“Someone should really go and separate those two before they realize how terribly opposed their views are. I’d hate to get any blood stains on the new rug.” James glanced up to see it was Martha Washington who spoke.  

Smiling James offered a hand out to greet the woman, “I do believe that will happen regardless of our intervention, ma’am.”

Martha gave a simple nod in the direction of his hand, and James’s hand dropped, realizing both of hers were occupied. In her left Martha held a nearly empty glass of wine, and in her right she held a hand, not her husband’s either.

James studied the younger woman attached to Martha’s side with interest. She had a death grip of Mrs. Washington’s hand and looked to be cowering behind the older woman. To her credit, Martha also appeared to be shielding the girl, who looked about ready to sink into the floor. The forlorn expression on her face and the tightness on Martha’s told James that neither of them particularly wanted the young woman to be there. Whether that was because Martha did not care for her to be at the banquet or whether Martha cared to protect her from it, James could not be sure.

“Mrs. Washington, I do not believe I’ve had the honor to meet your acquaintance,” James addressed the unknown woman with a slight bow of his head, “James Madison.”

“Oh, of course,” Martha flashed a forgetful smile James would have believed had he not seen it before. “Mr. Madison, this is my dear younger sister, (Y/n) Elizabeth Aylett.”

“Pleasure to meet you ma’am,” James bowed his head.

The woman, whom he now knew to be (Y/n) Elizabeth), gave a one-handed curtsey in response and a rather hesitant smile. Her grip on Martha’s hand loosened slightly, but she made little move to approach him any closer or step out from behind Martha’s guarded stance.

“Has your sister been introduced to Mr. Jefferson or Mr. Hamilton? Perhaps we could make their acquaintance on that pretense,” James suggested, waving a hand to where his oldest friend stood, still in deep, uninterrupted discussion with the new Secretary of Treasury.

“James!” A familiar voice boomed as a hand came down firmly to clap James on the shoulder. “I am so glad you could come.”

James turned to face George Washington and extended a hand, “Mr. President, did you really think I would miss a welcome banquet for my oldest friend?”

George accepted James’s hand and shook it firmly. “Your oldest friend who has spent the majority of the night politely refuting every word that has left the mouth of Secretary Hamilton.” George gave James a pointed smirk. “I dare say those two are cut from the same cloth.”

“I don’t know if I would go that far, sir.” James nodded his head in the direction of the pair, who seemed to have been quietly escalating their disagreement. “Even if they were, I doubt either would admit it. However, I do think they are both stubborn enough to continue this fight until someone forces them to cease blows.”

“Oh let them stew for a moment more,” George waved off James’s concern with a light chuckle. “They both work best when they’re angry. Perhaps if we leave them to it long enough they’ll build the whole country while trying to outdo each other.”

James did not share George’s confidence in the pair of men. He didn’t know who he was more concerned for. He’d seen Hamilton work. The young man had an unmatched determination, and put to work it could do some serious damage. However, Thomas Jefferson was not a man to cross, probably a fourth fact to add to his list if he ever felt like expanding it. There had been more than one occasion over the course of their friendship that he found himself thanking the heavens Thomas was on his side not against him. Nevertheless, James allowed George to table his concerns and the conversation to steer away.

“You know James,” George glanced down at the younger man’s sleeve covered arm with a knowing smirk. “Mr. Burr is here tonight.”

James’s hand instinctively went to his arm. Under the sleeve, the first words from his soulmate, Mr. Burr speaks very highly of you, Mr. Madison. “I’m afraid I have already met all of the women you have invited tonight, not including Mrs. Aylett.” He gestured to Martha’s sister. “Though I appreciate your concern.”

“Well no danger of that tonight, Mr. Madison.” Martha piped up, still holding firmly to her sister. “Perhaps the next banquet,” with a kind smile she added, “We’ll see to it Mr. Burr is invited to all of them.”

“How kind of you, Mrs. Washington,” James nodded politely.

James waited silently as George turned to address Martha about the time dinner would begin. His eyes wondered over to (Y/n), who also seemed very uninterested in the conversation. Her eyes had wandered away, and her guard had dropped slightly as she looked around the room. James followed her gaze to Jefferson and Hamilton who had since been joined by Aaron Burr, the same Aaron Burr who would one day introduce James to his soulmate.

‘No danger of that tonight,’ James reminded himself of Martha’s words, harsh but true. It occurred to him at first that she may have spoken prematurely. He knew everyone else in the room, but her sister had yet to speak a word to him. It didn’t seem likely, given that (Y/n) probably did not know Aaron Burr and had no reaction herself to his first words to her. Even so, Martha had said it with an odd sense of finality. If James could not see the looping cursive peeking out from under (Y/n)’s sleeves, he’d have assumed Martha was so assured in her statement because her sister had no soulmate. He supposed, now, it must have been because she knew the words on her sister’s arm, or that her sister had already found her soulmate. Though if that was the case, why was he not here?

A million possibilities were running through James’s mind. There wasn’t anything else particularly interesting to do that night.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, didn’t anyone tell you the war was over?” The voice of Aaron Burr echoed across the hall. Clearly James had been too soon assuming the night would be uninteresting.

George caught James’s eye. “Let’s go end the squabbling; shall we?” George offered an arm to his wife, and (Y/n) reluctantly dropped her death grip on Martha so her sister could accept.

The married couple led the way, and James followed after them beside a meek-looking (Y/n) who still refused to speak. The poor, quiet girl was walking into a lion’s den with Burr, Jefferson, and Hamilton. If she was hesitant around him, he could only imagine how badly she’d be spooked by the other three men. James made a concerted effort to circle around to her other side and place himself between her and the other three. He’d thought he’d been subtle with the gesture, but the sheepish smile (Y/n) sent his way told him otherwise. His only reply was to nod in confirmation.

“Mr. President,” Aaron Burr gave a bow of his head to the approaching group, effectively halting all conversation between Hamilton and Jefferson. “How are you this evening?”

“Quite well, Mr. Burr. How are you? Enjoying the festivities, I see,” The president looked between his two secretaries admonishingly.

Hamilton, at least, had the respect to look scorned, “My apologies, Mr. President. Secretary Jefferson and I were simply discussing…”

“Enough of that,” George waved away Hamilton’s concerns. “This is meant to be a celebration. Mr. Jefferson has only just returned to us from France. Let’s leave our work to the office, shall we?”

“Of course, Mr. President.” Thomas Jefferson gave a respectful bow of his head. “Thank you for hosting this dinner tonight. I appreciate your hospitality.”

“And we appreciate your assistance. I look forward to working with you, but for now let’s enjoy our evening.” George addressed the pair of them.

Hamilton bowed his head and turned his attention from the group. “If you all will excuse me, my soulmate is speaking with Mrs. Adams and appears to want my attention.” He went off with one last nod to the President.

“You haven’t even made it into work yet, and the two of you are already finding things to bicker over,” George’s tone was teasing, but there was a certain sense of warning to it that none of the group missed.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call it bickering, merely a difference of opinions unrelated to work. I’m sure we’ll be able to put it aside in future work.” Thomas politely refuted the President’s concern.

“Unrelated?” James cut in. He knew both men well enough. They had plenty of points of contention related to politics. He couldn’t imagine they would have had enough time to make it through all of them and find something else to argue about.

“Soulmates, of course,” Thomas waved his hand in the direction Alexander had retreated. “He brought up the topic and seemed rather disgruntled by my stance on the subject.” Thomas was being very careful not to launch into his opinion again. He doubted this group, Martha and the woman he didn’t know in particular, would appreciate it.

“Ah yes,” George mused. “Alexander mustn’t be familiar with your perennial bachelorhood.”

“I was married once, you know,” Thomas pointed out to George with a teasing tone that in no way seemed to disagree with George’s statement.

“It happens sometimes,” Martha seemed to miss the tone in Thomas’s voice and took him more literally. “You know, people getting married outside of soulmates.” Her eyes trailed to the other woman in the group, standing between George and James and trying desperately to avoid eye contact with everyone in the room.

Thomas’s eyes trailed over the girl. “Who might your friend be, Mrs. Washington?” The question was addressed to Martha, but his eyes were firmly on the woman, expecting the answer to come from her.

She made no move to answer or even acknowledge Thomas’s presence, and Martha piped up immediately in response. “Mr. Jefferson, this is my sister, (Y/n) Elizabeth Aylett.”

“Can she not answer for herself?” Thomas fought the urge to roll his eyes when he looked back to Martha.

“As a matter of fact -” Martha sputtered out, agitation bubbling up in her expression.

“Mr. Jefferson,” George warned coolly, all pretense dropping from his voice.

Thomas wanted to scoff. He couldn’t get a word out today without being berated, first by Hamilton, then Burr, now the Washingtons. This banquet was supposed to be in honor of his return, and all he wanted to do was leave. Any other day he would have been the epitome of cordial, but that Hamilton had wound him tight. He wanted none of this.

Turning to (Y/n), he practically growled out his first words to her, “What? Are you mute or something?”

Everyone froze for just a moment. Aaron Burr was looking at him aghast. James’s expression was simply exasperated. George Washington had the stern expression of a no-nonsense general, and Martha looked a mixture of angry and shocked at his side. The woman, (Y/n), simply looked resigned. She was meeting Thomas’s gaze now, but the look in her eyes was not that of a woman scorned. It looked more like a woman broken.

The look in her eye was all Thomas needed to realize he’d made a mistake.

(Y/n) turned to her sister and made a quick gesture, wiping her fingers twice over the palm of her outstretched hand, before she turned for the door.

“Wait, I-,” Thomas reached out to the woman, ready to apologize. Instead, his hand was snatched away.

When he looked back, he was expecting a disappointed James or maybe a wary Aaron Burr. He was certainly not expecting to have to look down into the eyes of an absolutely livid Martha Washington. “You… You…” She was trying desperately to form sentences, but her anger was suppressing her speech.

“I’m sorry, deeply sorry.” Thomas looked away ashamed. “It has been a rough evening. I didn’t intend to take it out on your sister.”

“Why are you apologizing to me?” Martha’s voice was growing louder with her building rage. “You should be apologizing to (Y/n)! Not just for this, for decades of hating herself! Do you realize how much damage you’ve done to her?”

Now Thomas was confused, very confused. “I beg your pardon, ma’am?”

“Every day she wakes up to those words burned into her arm! Ashamed of who she is and knowing you’re ashamed of it too!” Martha’s ranting had attracted attention from a good portion of the banquet hall now. George reached out to his wife, trying to rein her in.

Thomas tried placating the irate woman. “I don’t understand what you mean, Mrs. Washington. Perhaps, I should just go find (Y/n) and…”

George took the matter on himself and pulled his wife from Thomas, stepping up close to the man so none of the now eavesdropping guests could hear his voice carry. “Your words are on (Y/n)’s arm. You must be her soulmate.”

“I don’t have a soulmate.” Thomas replied almost mechanically, turning his arm slightly so George could see the blank expanse of skin.

“Well yes,” George conceded. “If (Y/n) is your soulmate you wouldn’t have words on your arm. She’ll never speak to you… She is mute.”

RFA+Saeran+V making Valentine’s Day Chocolates with MC

Our first attempt at these! Hope you like~


Zen:

  • Takes pre-baking selfies
  • Tries to mold mini zen chocolates
  • You tries to smear chocolate on his face
  • But he still looks flawless???
  • Sneezes when you try make one shaped like a cat
  • They come out really nice, actually
  • You give them as gifts to all the other members

Yoosung:

  • It was his idea, actually
  • He loves to cook
  • He has LOLOL character molds
  • But you also insist on animal molds
  • His main goal for the whole thing was so he could feed you the chocolates at the end
  • He takes a bite out of one of your experimental batches
  • “Wow this tastes really good!”
  • “Oh really?” You smirk before taking a bite of it while it’s near his mouth
  • This boy turns ten shades of red darker

Jaehee:

  • She wanted to test some for the cafe
  • Calls you for help, which you gladly accept
  • Of course, the chocolates are mocha flavored
  • You gave her the idea of Zen molds
  • Ended up making a bunch of different zen-shaped ones from his different musicals
  • Sent a bunch of them on the chatroom
  • Zen was so flattered
  • The chocolates were the best-sellers for that week

Jumin:

  • Didn’t find the reason for it originally
  • He has chefs?
  • But because you suggested it, he was all for it
  • Jumin in an apron that says “Kiss the Cook”
  • Of course you did….more than a couple of times
  • He suggested making cat friendly chocolates
  • You insisted it was for you guys
  • But, you did offer to make them Elizabeth the 3rd shaped
  • He was gushing over them
  • He was a crazy perfectionist though, so he only really made like two

Seven:

  • You started it while he was busy working
  • It was supposed to be surprise
  • But he walked into the kitchen when you were in the middle of one shaped like a keyboard
  • He was flattered….but he wanted in on the fun
  • So, you decide to make them together
  • You thought it was going to a mess, but he was actually meticulous
  • He made a really detailed one of Elly (of course)
  • It took him nearly twenty minutes, but it was really well-done
  • The kitchen was a mess afterwards oh well (RIP Vanderwood)

Saeran:

  • He likes sweets…he likes you…so somehow he agreed
  • He tries to start simple and makes a heart for you
  • “Aww, is that a giraffe!”
  • You made a mistake
  • You felt so bad
  • “Mine’s bad too!” you insist he tries to figure yours out
  • “It looks like a flower?”
  • It was a flower;;;
  • But its okay, because he’s actually laughing
  • You melt

V:

  • You guys had planned this since January
  • He can’t see very well, but he likes mixing the ingredients
  • He keeps smearing chocolate on your cheek
  • But he misses every time…
  • JIHYUN, MY HAIR
  • You make camera molds
  • He tries to make a heart, and its the cutest squiggly circle ever
  • You try your hardest to write “I love you” in braille
  • He smiles at the effort, and is too kind to tell you it ended up saying something weird like “I love corn” or something
  • He still manages to take an amazing photo of you baking
  • Also takes time placing the chocolates in an aesthetically pleasing manner on plates for a photo 
a lotta words

It wasn’t like it was intentional. Honestly, that’s just how she was as a person, it was a default. Her go-to. Especially in unique or uncomfortable situations, it’s a good icebreaker and can get a laugh or two out of those around her. By god she didn’t think that it had become such a strong reflex. Or else she would have quit a long time ago. But here she was, staring down at the delicately made flower crown on her pillow.

Saba had accidentally flirted with a fey. She wasn’t sure what type it was- but she had tripped in front of her. With her sharp teeth and glimmering, expressionless eyes. Saba had let out a chuckle on reflex and smoothly grinned up at her while she said: “Guess I fell for you.”

The Fey stared at her before walking away and Saba picked herself and began to walk to class when she realized what she had done. Then she fell again. Her first god damn week in this death maze of a school and she had already fucked up. Saba had been doing alright too, she fed and played with the crows(or passively allowed them to mess with her hair and tug at her clothes while feeding them her leftover curry) and gave respectful head nods to those she passed whether fey or not. Saba had ruined every little thing that set her in the background and now she was standing in a deadly limelight.

But now, gently stroking soft petals of flowers she had never seen before, there was no going back to a subtle life. She carefully stowed the flower crown inside her desk drawer on top of a rarely worn silk scarf of hers. Slightly anxious, Saba put on her usual mug of steaming hot milk and honey along with an additional plastic spider ring. She locked her door and placed a chair under the knob.

The next morning Saba had been trying to decide if she should or shouldn’t wear the flower crown. She settled on should and was careful to take it off when the crows mused with her hair. 

But then she made another mistake while sitting in the rain under a pink stegosaurus umbrella. A boy stood outside of the literature building, staring out at the rain and holding loose pages of paper. Saba shouted out to him.

“Hey! You! The one dripping with good looks!-” he pointed to himself and tilted his head. Saba squinted to see if he was smiling. “Yeah! You want me to walk you to where you need to go?” She pointed to her umbrella and stood up when he nodded eagerly. 

Saba jogged to him, one hand holding the umbrella and the other held protectively over the crown on her head. She felt her stomach drop as she noticed the lack of a mouth and striking red and orange eyes that adorned his face. She gulped as she held the umbrella higher to accommodate his height.

“So good lookin’, where to?” She wished she would stop talking. “trying to find a place thats as hot as you?” She wished she was dead.

Most of all, Saba hated herself for sounding so calm and casual, her default persona now turning into a massive burden. The fey chuckled and his hair ruffled from a nonexistent breeze. He pointed towards the forest. Saba didn’t bother to stop the groan that escaped her throat.

“Really? Oh…ugh fuck. Yeah, ok. Ok fine ok here we go-nnnnngggghhhhhh fuck.”

She walked with him towards the towering trees, flinching when he pressed closer to her to avoid the rain. Saba stopped at the edge of the wood, looking at him expectantly. The fey did not step out from the umbrella. Saba stared at the dirt and then looked at him, trying to avoid staring at the glowing tattoos on his neck.

“Um…I’m going to uh…give you this…”

She put the flower crown inside of her shirt and handed him the umbrella, giving him a brief wave before sprinting to her room without any breaks. Saba arrived there soaked and shivering.

She emailed her professor telling him she wouldn’t be in class. There was a heart shaped stone on her pillow. The mug had a single lipstick stain on its side, forming a perfect pair of lips. Saba cleaned it out, took a shower and then took a nap. The flower crown and the rock rested inside her drawer on top of a rarely used silk scarf.

Saba woke up only a few hours later, she did her homework and studied for her finals. She made three mugs of milk with honey and added cinnamon. She left one mug on her desk and stepped outside of her dorm room with the other two in her hands. Her umbrella rested on the floor in front of her and on top of it was a sage smudge stick. Saba wasn’t quite sure what that meant but decided to take it as a gift and not a threat and put it in her drawer. 

In all honesty, Saba can’t remember the third time it happened and all she can recall is setting out three mugs and receiving twigs, a candle and a bottle of water. Each item was kept safe in her drawer, which now had it’s own iron key to keep her roommate out of it(Saba wasn’t sure if she was a fey or not but hid the key well regardless). 

But Saba remembers the fourth time she had caught the attention of a fey. She had just perfected a batch of baklava for her final, she had been offering it to the few brave souls on campus who would accept food from strangers. The fourth fey had approached Saba when she sat in her seat in class, staring down at the 5 remaining treats. The fey had asked for one and without looking up Saba had smoothly replied.

“Sure, you can tell me if they’re good. But I doubt they are sweeter than you-”

Saba was handing them a piece when she noticed the curling horns that twisted and framed the feys face. She kept the polite smile on her face while the fey held out their hand- palm up- and waited for her to dispense the treat. Saba’s fingers grazed against the curved claws of the fey as she set the treat into their palm. She rambled about the cooking process, how she was trying to perfect the recipe as the fey carefully ate the food. The class carried on slowly and dully, Saba found the fey’s uncanny black eyes focused on the container of baklava. Saba nudged the treats towards the fey. She was too frightened to meet their eyes again.

At the end of the day, the tupperware was returned to her in shreds along with a note that gave a thorough but gentle synopsis of her treat. At the end of it, was a ‘$’ followed by the word ‘hair’. She tried not to shudder as she realized this accidental deal and the implications of following through with this request. To keep her mind off it it, she went into town.

Saba bought half and half that day and stocked up on honey. She passed by a Claire’s and ventured inside with a soft smile. That night she set out four mugs, a lock of hair, and several hair ties and earrings. When Saba woke up, her hair was neatly braided and tied with a cotton ribbon. She wore it for two days before putting the ribbon in her drawer.

It wasn’t for another month that Saba was one of the feys face to face again. She hadn’t forgotten the fey’s glittering eyes and sharp teeth but with a smile they were much less terrifying and glinted with a friendly warmth. The next week, early in the morning, Saba walked from the edge of a forest to the door of a building with the fey who’s hot hands warmed hers. There was a blank day in her memory where all that Saba remembers is waking up in bed, the smell of crayons and the gentle caress of feathers on her cheek as she fell asleep. Only three days ago Saba chose to sit next to a hulking shadowy figure whose horns curled tightly and cheeks glowed.

Saba’s days and months passed easier, she would write home about new friends and frequently went to craft and antique stores. There were always gifts, Saba would find them outside her room, in her backpack, sometimes in her clothes or even on her person. She would keep her eyes open for tiny things to give; a packet of seeds on the open book of a sharp-teethed girl sleeping in the library, a piece of coal at the edge of the forest, things that she falls asleep holding and wakes up to find her hands grasping at air, ladybug barrettes left on the windowsill of a slow classroom. Sometimes Saba would gift them nonmaterial things. A story, a listening ear, a whisper, a french braid, a tune, a met promise, a praise, an acknowledgment.

One day while restocking on dairy and honey, Saba returned with a large iron chest and cleaned her drawer- which had become full with gifts- only to find the silk scarf, one she rarely wore, absent.

Chapter 94 Thoughts

The anticipation for this chapter was really something else. I don’t think I’ve seen people so antsy for spoilers in a while. I’m guessing that was a mix of the previous chapter being out so early, the fact that this chapter is the volume closer, and the eagerness to see even a glimpse of the main cast again after a few months without them – depending on your preferences of course. 

(They did not make an official appearance)

This chapter is odd for me, because the content itself is great and makes for a meta-writing goldmine, but despite how eager I was to get the chapter I didn’t even read through the whole thing until the official release date. Like I wasn’t in a rush to get translations by the time the scanned pages were out. 

Apparently there’s a page citing this all as Marley’s arc, not volume, which makes me think we might not actually be returning to Paradis anytime soon. Couple that with an interview with Isayama scheduled for release next month regarding the direction the story will be taking, that possibility sounds even more likely to me. 

It’s a bold move if true, I’ll say that much.

If there was one thing in particular I wanted from these Marleyan-focused chapters, it was the warrior trio’s backstory. My wish was granted.

Reiner, Eren…turns out you two have more in common than you care to admit.

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anonymous asked:

Hi, I really like your prompt fills, they're amazing! I really love the prompt fill on zombies being representations of the seven deadly sins. I don't know if this is thinking too much into it but is/are there any specific person/people who specialise in dealing with packs of Envies? And who does repair work on the corral?

(Part One)

Numbers sleeps out by the Envies some nights.

 Most nights. 

Okay, nearly every night. She thinks that most sane people would with people like Stella and the General in the camp. It’s not that she thinks they’d ever go after her (except for how she does). It’s just that she doesn’t have confidence they won’t get her the next time camp is attacked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tia says when Numbers tells her this. She hands the girl a bag of food, that day’s rations. “They’ve been doing this way too long for that.”

Numbers doesn’t say anything. Two years ago, when this started, she’d thought people wouldn’t make mistake like that, wouldn’t hit a human instead of a zombie. In a way, she was right.

It wasn’t a mistake then and she doubts it would be one now.

“Thanks for the food,” she says, holding up the bag.

“No fire tonight,” Tia warns. “I don’t like how many Sloths have been around lately.”

Numbers casts an uneasy look at the horizon. Their camp is on a small hill which leads down to a flood plain. She can see the ruins of a city a mile or two away, but between here and there are too many holes, too much foliage, too much coverage for zombies.

“’Course,” Tia says, too nonchalant, “you could have a hot meal if you came to stay in the camp. Get to know everyone.”

Numbers is already shaking her head. She’s the newest member to the camp, the youngest to boot, and she likes the anonymity that gives her. She’s pretty sure Stella doesn’t even know her name.

Tia sighs, used to losing this particular battle. “Well, you know the knock. It baffles me that you’d feel more comfortable out here next to them though.”

Numbers looks where Tia gestures though she already knows what she’s pointing at. Numbers has just put a new batch of Envies in the corral and they’re getting to know the older ones, bumping into each other as they wander around aimlessly. Every now and then, they almost scent her and Tia and stop, those with noses letting their nostrils flare. Then they go right back to meandering, what’s left of their minds forgetting the distraction as soon as the wind snatches the scent away.

“Envies are predictable,” Numbers says because she likes Tia. She rustles in the bag of food, checking out her supplies. “People aren’t.”

Keep reading

I’m Sorry (I Fell In Love Tonight)

( PROMPT: We’re making out on the couch when a member of your family - who doesn’t know we’re friends with benefits - walks in and what do you mean I have to be your pretend girlfriend? )

A/N: I’M BACK!! FIRST STORY SINCE MY ARRIVAL IN ROME!! I’ll be posting sneak peeks of my stories, as well as edits and graphics on my Instagram (3rdgymbros), so do follow me there!! Comments and reblogs are appreciated! I love you guys!!

WARNINGS: Sin. But slight sin this time. 

Taglist (temporary, for this series only): @mashed-fandom-imagines | @gryffindoggo | @ardenthly | @hawkiye

Taglist (permanent): @mainspidey | @x-wing-starwriter |@tomsleftbrow |@tryn25|@tanglefire | @midnight-memorial | @tiny-friggin-human |@tacklemyackles|@fangeekkk |@beamagtuto | @captainaudreystark | @hellosuperewczi | @dasia-aye


Hands, warm and strong, grip your hips. Peter’s lips, so firm yet soft, press against yours. His mouth slants against yours, seeking and ravenous, sucking on your lips and tongue. Moaning, you arch into him, your fingers tangled in his silky hair.

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When Soulmates Go Wrong (Bucky Barnes x reader)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 4040 (Sorry, got carried away)

Warnings: Aaaaangst

A/N: I’ve got a part two, but I’m going to need you to tell me if you want it. This is just a little something that’s been in the works for at least a month, and I figured it was high time to put it out there. Gif is not mine, and feedback is greatly appreciated as usual. If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know.

Your name: submit What is this?

 

Ah, soulmates. True love smiled upon by the stars themselves. Every person had a mark matching their soulmate’s. The mark could appear anywhere on one’s body, in any color, or any shape, but it always matched what their soulmate had - color, location, shape, everything. And everyone had a soulmate. Except for me.

I’d been born without my soul mark. This terrified my mother on the day of my birth as the nurses had almost frantically tried to find something that could even possibly be a soul mark. There had been nothing to find.

When it turned out that I had powers - the ability to command the elements - in addition to a concerning propensity for all forms of weaponry and an uncanny gift for reading people’s body language… let’s just say that she and my father were afraid for me. Afraid that people would exploit me for my lack of connection as well as my powers.

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anonymous asked:

ah okay can u do one where tyler is the reader's upstairs neighbor and he plays the piano every night and it puts the reader to sleep, but then one night he stops and the reader can't sleep so she goes up and knocks on his door??

TYLER JOSEPH IMAGINE

As soon as you sit down to eat, it starts.  But you planned it that way, so you smile to yourself.  You feel your entire body relax, as you inhale deeply, picking up your fork once your shoulders had fallen.  Your foot starts tapping as you try to follow the same rhythm as the keys playing above.

It’s a beautiful piece tonight. Yesterday was much faster and upbeat, but tonight it’s slow and almost sort of sad. You try to hum along.

You moved in about three months ago, your last place was just too far from your school, and it’s been incredible. You love it.   It’s a good size, rent is cheap, and there’s also your upstairs neighbor who, every night at 7:30, without falter or fail, plays the piano beautifully for hours until you’re in bed, the rhythmic melody helping you fall asleep.

You never really spent a lot of time thinking about who was playing upstairs.  Probably some old man or lady, you didn’t see how anyone below the age of 30 would have enough time to play a piano for hours on end.

That night, much like many others, you finished your dinner and fell asleep to the sound of your neighbor and their piano.

You can’t sleep, you’ve been tossing and turning since your head hit the pillow.  This was the fourth night the piano hadn’t been played.

You’d just gotten so accustomed to listening to the notes every evening, you didn’t realize how much you had grown to depend on it until now. You knew you were going to wake up exhausted and grouchy. This is all your neighbor’s fault.

It’s 7:34 PM on a Thursday night and you’ve found yourself standing in front of your upstairs neighbor’s door. You honestly didn’t know what you were going to say, but you were feeling reckless and impulsive after running on hardly any sleep this week.  Frankly, at this point, you didn’t really care. What’s the worst thing that could happen?

Before you knew it, you’re knocking on the door, eyes looking to the crack in the bottom of the door where you can see a small peak of a shadow.

“Who is it?” The person asks, his voice is muffled but it’s definitely a guy.

“Uh-your downstairs neighbor?” you try to say but it comes out as a question, this isn’t weird, right? Neighbors knock on their neighbors doors asking them to keep playing their piano, right? Right.

“Anne? Are you sick-Oh.” And what.

He’s not old, is the thing. The first thing you see is feet covered in speckled, gray socks, followed by black jeans, a hooded sweatshirt, and a hand holding a bitten slice of pizza with a bandage. Uhh—

“You’re not Anne.” The boy says, his voice light, yet raspy.

“Anne-um. Moved. Sorry, am I in the right place? 34 B?” you ask because this pretty brown eyed, soft haired, boy cannot possibly be the anonymous piano player.

“Yeah…Can I help you?…” He asks, his unoccupied hand coming to rest on the open door and holy shit you can see a glimpse of a grand piano right behind him in his living room. What the hell?

“Piano?” you stupidly say, like that makes any sense. The boy turns around to look at his instrument and looks back at you, eyebrows furrowed.

“What?” He asks, one of his eyebrows raising, expecting an answer. God, he’s gorgeous.

“You stopped playing— I used to hear you? Downstairs?” you say and this is why you need to figure out what the hell you’re doing before going and actually doing it.

“Oh my piano.. yeah, I’m kinda taking a break from playing, sorry if it’s annoying or whatever, but I pay extra for this place to let me to play—"

“No, no! I love it!” you say, almost desperately, “I just-“ you stop to bite your lip and think for a second, “this is weird, but—“ you stop before disclosing the fact that the man’s music helps you sleep. “I actually miss it,” you say instead.

“Oh!” he says, almost surprised, “my hand though… see?” The boy huffs out a laugh as he raises his right bandaged hand that’s holding the pizza.

“Is that from playing too much?” you ask.

“The cost of playing an instrument, you know? I’m Tyler.” He extends his good hand for a shake and you can’t believe this. The mysterious piano player is a young, hot dude. What?

“I’m Y/N!” you reply, shaking his hand.  You can’t help but notice how well your hands fit together so nicely.

“Y/N,” He starts, biting off a piece of pizza and continuing with his mouth full, “Do you want a slice of pizza?”

And, come on. It’s free pizza, You’re not going to say no.

You hit it off after that night. You kept having excuses to go back to see Tyler, the first time you brought Tyler a batch of your home made cookies, “a repayment for the pizza,” you had said and Tyler grinned and pulled you inside, grabbing two cups and filling them up with milk.

You learned more about Tyler every time you hung out, too. You found out Tyler is hilarious, he’s also sarcastic, he’s only been playing the piano since he was nineteen and has a band with his friend. That one you couldn’t believe at first, the way Tyler had said it so casually was surprising.  

The next time you’re knocking, there seems to be a lot of commotion going on in Tyler’s apartment.  But he answers, nonetheless.

“Y/N!” he greets with a smile.  

“Hey,” you say, apprehensively.  You hear the voices of at least two or three other people in the apartment.  

“I just thought I’d say hi— didn’t know you had people over-“

“No, no, no! Come in! Meet my friends!” he says, opening the way for you to walk inside.  

You’re uncomfortable.

The thing is; you don’t do this kinda thing very often. Your only friend is a girl from school, but even then, you only hang out at school.

When you entered Tyler’s apartment, you see three other guys standing around.  

“Y/N, this is Mark,” he points to a sandy-haired boy with a goofy grin, “Michael,” there’s a buff man holding a beer, “and Josh,” the yellow hair and bright smile gave away his identity as the other half to Tyler’s band.

You smile nervously and wave, feeling awkward just standing around. But soon after introductions, they carry on with whatever video game they were playing.  

“Come on in, Y/N. Don’t be shy!” Tyler says softly. He goes and sits on the soft, patting on the spot next to him. “Come sit, there’s enough space!”

There isn’t space enough. Well, not really at least. The sofa is more of a love-seat, and you end up pressed right against Tyler. He doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, and when he casually  throws his arm around your waist after a few minutes, you start to relax.

It ends up being a really good night. You try a few rounds of Mario-Cart but stop, because you end up being so horrible. You don’t mind though.  You’re perfectly content with just watching the other guys play while you’re cuddled close to Tyler. You can’t really remember the last time you’ve had so much fun. They’re all constantly making jokes and telling stories and laughing, and you feel so carefree, almost like you’re floating.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep, cause when you open your eyes, it’s to Tyler slowly caressing your cheek. “Wakey, wakey,” he says softly with a chuckle.

You slowly blink and then move to sit up straight. “Oh,” you say, slightly dazed. “Did I fall asleep?”

Tyler nods. “Yeah, about an hour ago. The guys just left though, so I figured it was about time I woke you up. I’m sorry though.. You looked really peaceful, sleeping.”

You look at how your legs are strangling Tyler’s and notice how you’re perfectly curled into his side. You blush, but are too sleepy to be embarrassed about it. “’m sorry,” you mumble. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep on you. I’ll- uh..” you yawn. “I’ll go home then.”

Tyler smiles. “I didn’t mind. It was quite comfy, actually.  Come on,” he says. “I’ll walk you out.”

You make your way to the front door. When Tyler opens the door, you turn around to thank him.

“Thank you for letting me hang out. And like, letting me sleep on you, I guess. I had a really good night,” you say, still slightly blushing.

Tyler either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about embarrassment. “No problem. I had a really good night too.” He bites his lip and then raises his hand to touch yours. It’s a light brush, but you feel sparks of electricity spike through you.

You’re about to start nodding, when Tyler leans forward and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “See you soon?”

You’re baffled, but somehow you manages to mutter out a “yes” before walking away.

Later, when you’re alone in your own bed, you replay the kiss in your head so many times you start getting dizzy. And yes, you think, you could totally get used to this.

The next day, Tyler’s the one knocking on your door.  You’re surprised, but even more so when he asks you out for coffee with him.  

After ten minutes of scrambling around looking for shoes and your wallet, you’re out the door, heading down the street.  There’s a cozy cafe on the corner and Tyler holds the door for you.  You let out a sigh of relief after getting shelter from the cold.

You sit in a small booth near the front window and cradle your cup of hot chocolate between your fingers as you watch people walk by.

Tyler makes sure to keep the conversation going, and there’s never really a dull moment.

You’re laughing loudly when Tyler reaches out at your face. You freeze in your seat as you feel his thumb sweep softly over your lip.

Tyler smiles and pulls his hand back. “You had a little chocolate-moustache, sorry.”

You smile back, but look down, blushing hard.

Tyler takes a breath. “Okay, look at me for a second please.”

You raise your head and carefully stare at Tyler, trying not to get lost in his breathtaking brown eyes.

“I like you,” Tyler then says.

Your breath hitches in your throat and your hands freeze where they’re laying near Tyler’s. “You…” you mumble, but it sounds more like a question.

Tyler’s eyebrows climb high on his forehead. “Like you, yes.” He says, nodding in affirmation, eyes widened with anticipation.

Tyler smiles again, “Man, I thought I was being obvious. I like you, and I’m not afraid to admit that to anyone.” He laughed softly. “I’m sorry for springing this on you like this, because I have no idea how you even feel about me, but-“

You interrupt him, “Seriously?” The surprise is clear in your eyes. “I have a huge crush, I mean the size of Everest on you, Tyler.”

For the first time that day, Tyler seems taken back a bit. “Well, I mean- I guess I didn’t want to assume anything?”

You laugh, “Can I tell you something?” you ask, fixing your eyes back on Tyler.

He nods carefully.

“Your piano playing helps me sleep,” you sigh, “I used to curl up in bed and listen every night, it soothed me.  When you stopped, I couldn’t fall asleep, I just tossed and turned.  That’s why I came up that night— to see why you stopped.”

Tyler just stared at you with a fond look on his face. “It put you to sleep?” He says smiling.

You’re suddenly hit by a wave of shyness, “Yeah…” you mumble, it sounded stupid.  

“Y/N?” Tyler says softly, and you look up at him again. “Can I kiss you?” he continues, voice barely more than a whisper.

Your heart stops for a second, before you slowly nod. “Honestly? I’d be really disappointed if you didn’t.”

Tyler leans forward and softly presses your lips together. He tastes like mocha and every wonderful thing in the world, and you think that this is probably the best first kiss someone could ever have.

Later that night you’re curled up into Tyler’s side, listening to the rise and fall of his chest.  You sigh in frustration, finding that you, once again, cannot sleep.

“I really wish your hand wasn’t hurt— then you could play for me,” you pout, poking your lip out and looking up at him.

He chuckles, giving you a small squeeze before disclosing, “You know I can sing, right?”

You furrow your eyebrows, racking your brain for the conversation where he told you that… But you can’t recall.  You would’ve remembered.  You would’ve made him demonstrate.

“You never told me that—“

“Would you like me to sing to you?  Then maybe you could fall asleep?”

You nod into his chest, burying your face into the fabric of his shirt before saying, “Yes, please.”

Tyler clears his throat lightly before starting to sing— and it’s beautiful.  At first, your chest fills up with so much admiration for Tyler that sleep is the last thing on your mind.  But he continues and his soft tune mixed with the feeling of his hand running up and down your back softly, has you calming down.  Your eyes soon grow heavy and after only a couple of verses, you’ve drifted off into a deep, sleep.  

Bloom — Part II — Autumn

REQUEST: Can u write a fan fic about the girl owning a flower shop and Harry coming in to get flowers for someone else but then they fall in love because love is beautiful like a flower


Bloom: Part I


Over the next few months, Harry had become quite the regular customer in her little store. He visited often, sometimes without even buying anything, and she was pleased that they’d become friends. She still didn’t have many of those around the area, and it was always a nice surprise when Harry stopped by to see her.

They most often talked about his dating life.

He stopped by the store every time he took a girl out for the first time, which was a lot recently. He’d finally been given a break after touring and doing promotion for his first album, and he took it as a chance to have fun and stay close to home for a little while. Dating was something that he hadn’t done properly in years, and he thought, why not?

So far he’d been on eight first dates, and he’d purchased flowers from her every single time. Lilies, to be exact, and every time he would fill him in on what had happened with the last girl he’d seen. They were all lovely, and he didn’t bash them by any means—but it was nice to have a friend to talk to about it all.

On one night in particular, she was just about to close up the shop when she heard the bells ringing.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” she called out from behind the counter, tucking one of the encyclopedias away that she’d been reading up on that day.

Keep reading

“Listen, Brat!” Levi X Reader

Pairing: Levi X Reader

Words: 1847

Genre: Action, fluff(?)

Originally posted by nikiforv

              He was the very first one to ever call me a brat! Can you believe his nerve? But I need to learn to ignore him. There is no way I’d quit or let him kick me out – not after what happened.


Keep reading

Harry was a health freak. Everyone knew that! He was obsessed with anything related to green juice, protein shakes, vegan substitutes… The one time he let himself go was when he made a batch of nice cream - Which was literally just a frozen banana blended up. You, on the other hand… That was a whole other story. You could survive if the world’s kale supply disappeared. You could survive on pizza, pasta, tacos… Anything that was high in carbs, you were rooting for. (No one really knew how you two started dating. It seemed like the opposites attract theory was actually real in your guys’ case.) It always baffled Harry whenever he’d watch you spoon mouthfuls of sugary cereal into your mouth while he sipped at his breakfast smoothie.

“Good morning!” You chirped, popping a kiss to Harry’s cheek before making your way to the cabinet. You were in the mood for a hearty bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Cinnamon Toast Crunch always made you work more productively. 

“Morning.” Harry hummed, his spoon clinking against the sides of his mug as he stirred his butter into the coffee. He was currently bandwagoning on a new trend - ‘Bullet coffee’, as he called it, was disgusting in your eyes. Who the hell would want to drink a cup of lard-flavoured coffee in the morning? 

“How’s your coffee?” You turned back to glance at Harry before rummaging through the cabinet for your cereal. Odd. Very odd. You swore you bought a new box last week - and it was the huge family sized one too so you couldn’t have finished it in the span of five-ish days - but for some reason, it wasn’t there. The rest of your cereal wasn’t there either. Your Fruity Pebbles, your Cocoa Puffs, your Cap’n Crunch… All gone! In their places were cereals such as Cheerio and cornflakes - And they weren’t even the glazed kinds! 

“S’good. Yeh lookin’ for something?” You shut the cabinet doors, flipping around to give your boyfriend a pointed look. “No cereal today?” 

“What did you do?” You scowled, walking over to lean against the kitchen counter. “Where’s all my cereal?”

“I’m not sure. But since your cereal supply is gone, and since you’re a breakfast person who currently has no breakfast…” Harry paused, pulling out three apples out of nowhere with a wide grin on his face. “How about them apples?” 

“Wha- where were you hiding those?” You furrowed your brows in confusion, Harry shrugging casually before raising the apples up a little. 

“C’mon, give them a try. An apple a day keeps the doctor away, y’know.” Harry smiled when you reluctantly took one of the apples from him. It was a success! Finally, you were going to eat something healthy for breakfast. “They’re much better than your Apple Jacks.” 

“At least my Apple Jacks taste better.” You frowned, pouting at the apple in your hand before you thought of something. “Ah, I know!” Harry watched as you walked over to the fridge and rooted through some things before- 

No. Y/N, no!” Harry whined, letting out a groan and holding the remaining two apples up. “I jus’ wanted you to have apples, not apples with bloody caramel sauce on top!” 

“You’re the one who took my cereal away, so it’s technically your fault.” You shrugged, drizzling some of the sauce on the apple before taking an obnoxious type. “I might eat an apple for breakfast every day! Aren’t you proud of me?”

“You’re impossible.” 

+

gif isn’t mine! 

N.E.I.G.H.B.O.R.S // Fanfic

Modern Apartment AU // Nessian

The One With The Coffee Shop Date

I am not sure if this is going to turn into a series or just be one shot but its about Cassian and Nesta having apartments next to each other. Sort of like Friends but not really. Let me know if you like it and you want more. 

                                                       Nesta

All Nesta wanted to do today was bake, turn on the cheesiest romcom she could find, and do some much needed relaxing but her coworkers had other ideas. They kept calling her until she decided to give up on relaxing and go into work to solve everyone’s problems. 

So here she was walking into her apartment at 11 o’clock already on her second batch of cookies. As soon as she walked into her apartment an hour earlier she put on her old school guilty pleasure spotify playlist and got to baking. 

When she’s gone through her playlist four times she has already finished baking two batches of her world famous chocolate chip cookies, one batch of oatmeal cookies (Elain’s favorite), three batches of M&M cookies, and was working on her favorite everything-but-the-kitchen-sink where she put every kind of chocolate she had in her house in the cookies. 

As she begun collecting the ingredients she realized she was out of sugar. Without thinking it through she makes her way out into the hall and knocks on the apartment across from her. 

After five minutes, and knocking three times, the door finally opens to reveal her neighbor Cassian. “Hey?” he says, more of a question than a statement. He rubs the the sleep out of his eyes, and Nesta forces herself to stare at his face so her eyes don’t trail down to the abs that were on full display. “What can I do for you, sweetheart?” 

She rolls her eyes at the nickname before requesting, “I need sugar. One cup to be presence.” 

He raises an eyebrow and chuckles slightly, “Sugar? Your knocking on my door for sugar?” He opens the door wider so she can follow him into his kitchen. After taking the measuring cup from her he opens his cabinet and looks around for the sugar. “Can I ask why you need a cup of sugar at four in the morning?” 

“I am baking- wait. What did you just say?” she asks, catching the blinking light on his microwave that read 4:03. She jumps off the stool she had planted herself on while she waited for him to get her sugar and exclaims, “It’s 4:03 am? My sister’s graduation is tomorrow morning!” 

“So you don’t normally bake in the middle of the night? I was beginning to worry that I was living next to a vampire,” he says, handing over the full measuring cup. 

“Thanks,” she says taking the cup from him and walking towards the door. “Sorry for waking you up 4, hopefully it won’t happen again.” 

He puts his hand on his door before she can open it causing her to look up at him. “I think you owe me one,” he says.

She scoffs and shoves his arm out of her way and exits his apartment, “You’ve borrowed enough creamer from me we are definitely even.” 

“How about coffee tomorrow?” he asks before she can disappear into her own apartment. 

She pauses slightly and turns towards him. “Okay,” she replies slowly in thought. “Meet me at the coffee shop around the corner at nine.”

“Nine?” He exclaims, doing the math in his head. “You just woke me up!”

She shrugs, “That’s the only time I am free tomorrow.” 

He frowns, and Nesta can see that he is thinking it through in his head, finally he nods. “Okay, I’ll see you at nine.” 


“Feyre, believe me. It was awkward. So awkward,” Nesta says, as she stares intently in the mirror trying to perfect her eyeliner while balancing her cellphone between her ear and shoulder. “Worst 47 minutes of my life.” 

“47 minutes?” Feyre repeats laughing, “How bad could it be? You’ve been on some pretty bad dates, Nes. Remember when that guy from your gym took you hiking and basically pushed you into a creek?” 

“Thanks for reminding me,” Nesta grunts, finishing up one eye and moving onto the next one. “All we did was bicker. I don’t think that’s a good sign on the first date.” 

“Isn’t your excuse for not going on second dates always because they didn’t have enough fire in them?” Feyre counters, and Nesta can practically see the smug look on her sisters face through the phone. 

Nesta pauses, before replying with a simple, “So?” 

Feyre laughs again, “So most guys don’t have enough fire and your neighbor has too much? I think it’s time you start adopting cats.” 

“I am a dog person,” she replies. 

“Rhys just got here, I’ll see you later at graduation and you can tell me more about your neighbor,” Feyre says.


“She wasn’t interested at all. She looked at her phone three times in ten minutes,” Cassian says into the phone as he goes through his closet. 

“Was it a hard to get disinterest?” Rhys asks.

“Definitely not. It was disinterest disinterest,” he says to his best friend. “She bolted out of the coffee shop as fast as she could and we live across from each other. 

“Well, maybe this means you should stop pinning over her. You know, Feyre, has been mentioning setting you up with her sister,” Rhys says. 

Cassian pulls out his suit, and throws it onto his bed. “Elain? Isn’t she married and expecting? I don’t think her husband would like her going out on a date with me.” 

Rhys chuckles on the other side of the line. “No, her sister N-,” he pauses, “I just arrived at Feyre’s apartment I’ll see you later at her graduation, right?” 

After hanging up with him and finishing getting ready he makes his way to the parking garage connected to his apartment. He hears a groan of frustration around the corner and a familiar female voice exclaim, “You have got to be kidding me.” 

Turning the corner he sees Nesta kicking her the front tire of her car. “What did your car do to deserve that. sweetheart?” she jumps and turns around frowning. 

“It won’t start and I am probably going to be late to my sisters graduation and shes going to kill me,” she rambles, pulling her cellphone out of her purse allowing Cassian time to admire the short blue dress she wore. “My other sister is probably already there because she’s always early to everything.” 

Cassian frowns and looks at his watch. “Where’s her graduation? I can drop you off,” he says. 

She looks up surprised and her eyes drop to the suit he’s wearing then back up to his face. “Prythian University,” she says. 

“Perfect, that’s where I am heading,” he says, before turning to walk and gesturing for her to follow. She locks her car and follows behind him.

“Why are you going to Prythian University? Does someone you know go there?” she asks.

“My friends girlfriend is graduating. I usually wouldn’t go to these kind of things but he’s planned a big surprise for her after it. He’s actually proposing, which is about time. Those two have been in love with each other since they met. He even flew up her sister, Elain, who lives in North Carolina.” When he finishes he looks over to see what Nesta was going to say but shes not walking next to him anymore. He turns to see her stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “You okay?” 

“Is your friend Rhysand?” she asks. 

Cassian frowns confused, “Yeah, why? Do you know him?”

“I do actually. He’s dating my sister.”

                                                       The End 

                          Send me Prompts for Headcanons and Fics. 

The Talk

I wrote most of this a few months back, but I thought I might finish it up and post it for funsies! 


“Shotgun!”

“There’s no shotgun on a sofa!”

As Marinette watched her two youngest children sprawl across the couch, Louis obnoxiously taking up as much room as possible and Bridgette primly seating herself atop his head, it was a real effort to keep from crying.

Maybe she was getting soft in her (not old, forty eight was still quite spry) age, but it was always times like these, when they all sat down as a family to talk, that made her remember the earlier days. The days where baby Bridgette was a permanent fixture to her hip and Louis was little more than a streak of blonde hair as he zoomed around the house. The years their house had been filled with not two children but four, each of them unique and talented and an absolutely perfect blend of her and Adrien.

(Don’t get her wrong, Marinette was proud that she’d raised Emma and Hugo to be such self-sufficient young adults, but damn if she didn’t still get a little misty eyed every time she passed their empty bedrooms.)

“Alright settle down,” Marinette began, swatting her son’s feet off the table with practiced ease, “Time for family meeting.”

She cleared her throat.

“Since you two are both teenagers now, your father and I thought it was time to discuss some things with you.”

Two mischievous smiles dropped, shattering on the floor.

“Oh god,” Bridgette breathed, eyes flooding with dread, “Please tell me you aren’t-“

“I got the banana!” Adrien announced as he exited the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear. Louis and Bridgette let loose synchronized shrieks, then transitioned into wailing as Marinette produced a foil square from her pocket.

“Why do you have a condom?” Louis groaned, hands dragging down the sides of his tomato-tinted face.  “You two haven’t done that since Bridgette was conceived.” His eyes widened in abject horror. “Right? Oh god please tell me you don’t still…”

He trailed off, silently begging his parents to confirm they were, in fact, on a 16 year chastity streak.

As Adrien plopped down unto the couch next to his wife, the expression he threw his son somehow managed to be both pitying and smug. “You really think we go to bed early every Sunday night because we’re tired?”

The teens let loose another synchronized retch, Bridgette slapping her hand over her ears and Louis spitting a string of curses vulgar enough to earn him a sharp look from sailor Marinette herself.

“Sex is normal and healthy,” she admonished, trying to keep her face passive despite the grin resting on the edge of her lips.

(She could still remember the mortification she’d felt the day her own parents had given her this talk, but found that being on the other end of things was downright funny.)

“Not at your age it isn’t,” Bridgette whined from behind her pillow.

“Yeah,” Louis agreed, “You’ll break a hip.”

“That’s kinnda the goal,” Marinette said beneath a cough, earning two more horrified “Maman!”’s and a fistbumps from her husband.

“That’s it!” Bridgette declared, pushing up from the couch, “I’m flying into the sun.”

Adrien hooked her by the waist, pulling her back down to her seat. “Not before you learn proper condom application you don’t.”

Drawing upon years of being the baby of the family, Bridgette stuck her bottom lip out in that trademark pout, hoping it’d been enough to crack her father’s notoriously weak resolve. “But it’s weeeeeird,” she whined, throwing in the boo-boo eyes for good measure. “Besides, I already know how-“

She shut her mouth so hard her fangs clicked.

Three other mouths hung open.

(Listen, it wasn’t her fault some of the vamp kids she’d met while visiting her grandpas had given her plasma-fruit flavored condoms! It wasn’t her fault Dom had agreed to be her Guinea pig, sweating bullets as she’d lowered her razor-sharp mouth around him! She was a curious girl, okay?! So sue her!)

“And just when did this happen?!” Louis exploded, taking on the role of protective father as Adrien sat dumbstruck across the living room. “Was it that Bourgeois bastard?”

“Don’t you dare talk about my Feli-bug like that!” Bridgette deflected, poking a sharp nail to the center of his chest.

“OOOOO I’m gunna bake Casper the frigid ghost a nice batch of garlic cookies and deliver them on a silver platter!”

“Louis shut up!”

“She… already knows?” Adrien murmured, staring vacantly at the rug. “How… w-why does she already know??”

“Siri?” Louis asked, hoisting his phone high enough to evade his vertically-challenged sister, “Where is the nearest place to get a wooden stake?”

“How old is she?” Adrien’s hands carded through his white-blonde (almost silver) hair. “How old am I???”

A pillow went sailing, followed shortly after by a streak of yellow and black. The banana was smashed on the floor. Alya wandered in from next door, only to walk right back out.

“Mom, control your idiot son!”

“Mom, control your slutty-“

WHAM.

‘She always did have my upper body strength,’ Marinette mused, idly stirring her tea as she watched her daughter bludgeon her son with a couch cushion.

Adrien- who at this point seemed to have moved past his mini-midlife crisis -sprung to his feet, confiscating both pillow and cell phone (“The nearest steakhouse is 3.4 miles away.”) as he hauled his hissing kittens apart.

“No hitting!” he admonished, plopping the world’s first bright red honeybee on one end of the couch. “And no calling your sister- or any Lady!- a slut,” he continued, sticking a rumpled butterfly on the other. “Now sit still and learn, unless you want any unplanned pregnancies in your future.”

“Pssh, yeah right,” Louis scoffed, rolling his eyes as he slumped back into the cushion, “Like that’ll ever happen…”


Five years later, when he found himself sitting on that very same couch with a squirming toddler pinned to his hip, Louis made sure to take notes when his parents produced a second banana.

“Make-A-Wish. Can I help you?”

I want to thank all the wonderful Tumblr-folk I tagged in this for contributing to one of the best reads I’ve had in a while. I would also like to apologize to those whose contributions I might have missed.

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I wonder if, in superhero universes, the villains ever get contacted by those “Make a Wish Foundation” and similar people.

I mean, the heroes do. Of course they do. Kids who want to meet Spiderman or Superman or get to be carried by the Flash as he runs through Central City for just thirty seconds.

But surely there are also the kids, who - because they are kids and sometimes kids are just weird - decide that what they really, really want is to meet a supervillain. Because he’s scary or she’s awesome or that freeze ray is just really, really cool, you know?

The heroes would be so weirded out by it. The villains with codes of ethics would totally band together to force the villains without one (should they be the one requested) to do their part for the cause.

But imagine the person who has to track down the villains and organize everything?

Like, the first time it happens, no one actually thinks it’s possible, but one of the newbies volunteers to at least try. They get lucky, the kid wants to meet one of the villains who is well known to have a personal code of ethics (eg one of the rogues), and it takes them weeks to track the villain down to this one bar they’ve been seen at a few times, plus a week of staking out said bar, but they finally find them.

So they approach the villain, very politely introduce themselves and explain the situation, finishing with an assurance that, should the villain agree, no law enforcement or heroes will be informed of the meeting.

The villain, assuming it’s a joke, laughs in their face.

At this point, the poor volunteer, who has giving up weeks of their time and no small amount of effort to track down this villain, all so a sweet little girl can meet the person who somehow inspired them, well, at this point the employee sees red.

They explode, yelling at this villain about the little girl who, for some unknown reason, absolutely loved them, had a hand-made stuffed toy of them and was inspired by their struggle to keeping fighting her own and wasn’t the villain supposed to have ethics? The entire bar is witness to this big bad villain getting scolded by some bookish nobody a foot shorter than them.

When the volunteer is done, the villain calmly knocks back their drink, grips the volunteers shoulder and drags them outside. The bar’s patrons assume that person will never be seen again, the volunteer included. But once they’re outside, the villain apologizes for their assumption, asks for the kid’s details so they can drop by in the near future, not saying when for obvious reasons. They also give the very relieved volunteer a phone number to call if someone asks for them again.

A week later, the little girl’s room is covered in villain merchandise, several expensive and clearly stolen gifts and she is happily clutching a stack of signed Polaroids of her and the villain.

The next time a kid asks to meet a villain, guess who gets that assignment?

Turns out, the first villain was quite touched by the experience of meeting their little fan, and word has gotten around. The second villain happily agrees when they realize it’s the same volunteer who asked the other guy. Unfortunately, one of the heroes sees the villain entering the kid’s hospital and obviously assumes the worst. They rush in, ready to drag the villain out, but the volunteer stands in their way. The hero spends five minutes getting scolded for trying to stop the villain from actually doing a good thing and almost ruining the kid’s wish. The volunteer gets a reputation among villains as someone who can not only be trusted with personal contact numbers but who will do everything they can to keep law enforcement away during their visits.

The volunteer has a phonebook written in cypher of all the villain’s phone numbers, with asterixes next to the ones to call if any other villains give them trouble.

Around the office, they gain the unofficial job title of The Villain Wrangler.

The heroes are genuinely flabbergasted by The Villain Wrangler. At first, some of the heroes try to reason with them.

Heroes: “Can’t you, just, give us their contact details? They’ll never even have to know it was you.”

The Villain Wrangler: “Yeah sure, <rollseyes> because all these evil geniuses could never possibly figure out that it’s me who happens to be the common thread in the sudden mass arrests. Look man, even if it wouldn’t get me killed, it would disappoint the kids. You wouldn’t want to disappoint the kids would you?”

Heroes: “… no~ but…”

The Villain Wrangler: “Exactly.”

Eventually, one of the anti-hero types gets frustrated, and decides to take a stand. They kidnap the Villain Wrangler and demand that they give up the contents of the little black book of Villains, or suffer the consequences. It’s For the Greater Good, the anti-hero insists as they tie the Villain Wrangler to a pillar.

The Villain Wrangler: “You complete idiot, put me back before someone figures out that I’m missing.”

Anti-hero: “…excuse me?”

The Villain Wrangler: “Ugh, do I have to spell this out for you? Do you actually want your secret base to be wiped off the map? With us in it? Sugarsticks, how long has it been? If they get suspicious, they check in, and then if I miss a check-in, they tend to come barging into wherever I am just to prove that they can, even if they figure out that they’re not being threatened by proxy. Suffice to say, Auntie Muriel really regretted throwing my phone into the pool when she strenuously objected to me answering it during family time. If they think for even one moment that I’ve given them up, they won’t hesitate to obliterate both of us from their potential misery. You do know some of the people in my book have like missiles and djinni and elemental forces at their disposal, right?”

Anti-hero: “Wait, what? I thought they trusted you?!”

The Villain Wrangler: “Trust is such a strong word!”

Villain: “Indeed.”

Anti-hero: “Wait, wha-” <slumps over, dart sticking out of neck>

The Villain Wrangler: “Thanks. I thought they were going to hurt me.”

Villain: “You did well. You kept them distracted, and gave us time to follow your signal.” <cuts Villain Wrangler free>

The Villain Wrangler: <rubbing circulation back into limbs> “Yeah well, you know me; I do whatever I have to. So I’ll see you Wednesday at four at St Martha’s? I’ve got an 8yo burns unit patient recovering from her latest batch of skin grafts who could really use a pep talk.”

Villain: “… of course. Yes… I… yes.”

The Villain Wrangler: “I just think you could really reach her, you know?”

Villain: <unconsciously runs fingers over mask> “I… yes, but, what should I say?”

The Villain Wrangler: “Whatever advice you think you could have used the most just after.”

Villain: <hoists Anti-hero over shoulder almost absently> “….yes.”

The Villain Wrangler wasn’t lying to the Anti-hero. They know that the more ruthless villains would not hesitate if they thought for one second that the Anti-hero would betray them.

But this is not the first time the Villain Wrangler has gone to extreme lengths to protect their identities.

Trust is a strong word. The Villain Wrangler earned it, and is terrified by what it could mean.

My first official Deadpool headcanon is this. This this this.

Okay but this whole concept actually makes a lot of sense, because villains are a lot more likely to be disfigured/disabled/use adaptive devices (bc ableist tropes), so of course, say, a child amputee is going to be more interested in the villain with a robot arm who almost destroyed New York than the heroes that took him down.

Also, imagine one of the kids gets better, and a few years down the line becomes a villain themselves, except their crimes are things like smuggling chemo drugs across the border for families that can’t afford treatment, or stealing from corrupt businessmen to make donations to underfunded hospitals (idk this turned into a Leverage AU or something) and every time the heroes encounter her, they’re like “oh no. she’s getting away. Curses. Welp, nothing we can do.” Though it isn’t that she can’t take them on; bc of course once the villain from way back when found out what she was up to, he started helping/training her.

“I thought they just hired someone to dress up and pretend to be you,” she says, amazed, when he reveals himself. “I didn’t think they actually got the real you!”

Every year the Villain Wrangler gets a very expensive gift basket from the pair.

And for the kids who don’t get better the villains are there too, they show up to every funeral, they bear too small coffins on their shoulders and the heroes stand aside

They are fierce with grieving families assuring them that their child will not be forgotten, and they don’t balk at negative emotions, they don’t tell people to be strong or “celebrate their child’s life,” because these parents have every right to their grief and anger

And the lost children are never forgotten. Flowers appear on graves during birthdays and anniversaries, heroes find pictures of those kids and they carefully take them down and ensure they’re delivered to the villain’s cell, and a few villains can be seen with friendship bracelets wrapped around their wrists the cops have learned not to try and take them off

They are fierce with grieving families assuring them that their child will not be forgotten, and they don’t balk at negative emotions, they don’t tell people to be strong or “celebrate their child’s life,” because these parents have every right to their grief and anger

And then one day, one of the evil geniuses who happens to specialize in inducing bizarre genetic mutations meets a young fan who was born with a rare genetic disorder that is slowly killing them, and realizes that they can help.

Another, who created their own exosuit, talks to a young fan and suddenly understands how much the technology that they have built for themselves could revolutionize quality of life for people with muscular dystrophy, or paraplegia, or other disorders that confine people to wheelchairs with little mobility.

A third thinks of a way that their nanobots could be used to detect and remove cancer cells when their fan, who had been in remission, writes to say that the doctors have found a new metastasizing tumour.

Then shortly after, an evil genius specializing in cloning is contacted by an old colleague asking if a suitable heart couldn’t be grown for their young fan with a congenital heart condition who needs a donor.

Suddenly, a pattern of villains offering (and marketing) their insights and resources to improve medical science starts to arise. Many who had previously been operating on society’s fringes are shocked to receive public accolades, research grants and job offers from major companies because of their work.

A grassroots movement arises advocating for imprisoned villains with appropriate qualifications and/or experience to have access to resources to conduct research for the public good. The Second Chance Rehabilitation Project launches.

(It is an open secret that only people who have been vetted by the Villain Wrangler are allowed to join, because the Villain Wrangler has by now a meticulously set up method and intelligence network to run background checks and character references through ensure that none of the children wishing to meet their role models get hurt.)

This is all soooo good, but I wonder what effect this has on the villains. Like, can they really wreak indiscriminate havoc when they know the kids that worship them might be in the area? Like, what if they attack a shopping mall and it just so happens that Annie’s mom ran in for a pair of shoes or something? What then?

So what you’re saying is that there is now an organization of henchmen who do round the clock, exhaustive research in order to make sure the villain’s plan isn’t going to ruin the life of some kid. Just imagine some aunt getting a call from an unlisted number.

“I swear I am not a bill collector ma’am. It’s just. Well. Ok and I swear I am not a stalker even if this is actually going to be a very creepy phone call, but you said you were going to the mall at four? Is it possible you could reschedule or postpone that trip for about an hour? That mall is way too close to…well. It just wouldn’t be safe. I could wire you some money, and you could go to the much nicer mall one town over? Would that work for you? No? You are calling the police? Yes. Yes that is the sensible thing to do. Definitely do that. You have a nice day, ma’am. Tell Marcus Doctor Evil says hello and to have a nice day.”

And then the poor minion has to call the villain and explain why robbing X bank isn’t a good idea that day.

“Yes. Hello. Sir? Oh good I caught you before you left the base. Look, Marcus Smithson’s aunt is going to be near the blast radius for that job you have scheduled so-yes. Yes I am aware that rescheduling is going to be a lot of work since most everything is already set up, but….but, sir think about poor Marcus! She’s his favorite aunt, and the woman refused to ‘reorder her life around some crazy mastermind’. ……no…..no, please do not kidnap the aunt, sir. It’s terribly rude. Yes I realize you weren’t going to keep her or doing anything other than drop her off at an alternative location, but, well, citizens frown upon that sort of thing and….yes….Yes, of course. You have a good day, too, sir.”

And they turn to their coworker and are just like “So if I don’t come in to work tomorrow it’s because Doctor Evil threw me in his dungeon and/or sent his hellhounds to maul me. Please remember to send help.

But but but… what happens when one falls through the cracks? When Lord Dominion or whatever does a typical baddie thing but then Penny’s new best friend gets caught up in the damage and Lord D didn’t even KNOW Penny had a new bestie so how was he to know? But now the kid is devastated and it’s all his fault? I mean, how does that even shake out?

Penny SWEARS REVENGE! Lord D is distraught but also somewhat proud. He sends Penny a very sincere apology and also a bunch of tips on how to execute a proper vengeance plot, in case she decides not to accept the apology. He sends henchmen to spy on her, and he keeps the surveillance photos of her sitting in her room, plans and schematics strewn all over her desk. He puts them in his wallet and brags to all his villain friends that one of his kids is taking up scheming, look at her go, she’s already started on pattern analysis of his latest heists. He’s so proud. Later this month he’ll show up on her way home from school so she can have her first Confrontation.

There will inevitably be mistakes and tragedies.

Penny is an intelligent kid. She catches on to the spying henchmen pretty quick and bribes some of them to her side with snacks. That first confrontation does not go like Lord Dominion expected because Penny has minions (minions that are using his OWN WEAPONS against him, even)

Lord Dominion is the proudest villain ever, even if he did almost lose an ear thanks to the impeccable aim of a nine year old with a grudge. He does let the laser blast graze him just so he can have a scar to show people because that girl is a villain after his own heart.

He doesn’t want to ask his villain rivals to help her out because that would imply he doesn’t think she’s capable of eventually growing strong enough to kick his ass. Turns out Penny already thought of that and has mailed letters asking for advice to Lady Sinister, Lord Dominion’s long time, mostly friendly rival. (She mailed a letter to Lord D’s arch nemesis, but man. Heroes are always trying to make you do The Right Thing. Penny doesn’t have time for the high road. Plus, the low road has lasers.)

Lady Sinister thinks Penny is the best thing ever and while she has mostly stopped kicking Lord D’s ass, she still breaks into his hideout to sit in his favorite chair with a glass of wine and brags about her new favorite up and coming villainess. (She doesn’t warn Lord D about the attack rabbits she agreed to train for Penny as a favor, and for obvious reasons, she is going to be a bystander at the next confrontation, filming everything on her phone to post the dark web so all their villain friends can see this)Being able to say that one is involved with the Project begins to look really good in parole hearings. The Villains involved perform their own quality checks on one another, because if one of their kids got hurt, then all of their kids could potentially lose out, and the ones that are serious about the Project are not having that. (Also, the ability to collaborate with other geniuses is the most interesting thing to happen to most of them since losing to various heroes, and most consider the intellectual stimulation to be worth putting up with the ridiculous egos and inevitable personality clashes that arise.)

Reformed Villains come out of the woodwork to advocate about better mental healthcare, and support systems. Savvy universities and private labs quietly take their advice, setting up better mental health supports and laboratory safety standards to prevent the Brain Drain caused by losing their less stable scientists to the Costumes.

The Villain Wrangler watches all of this develop with a smile.

Their plan succeeded beyond their wildest dreams.

I’m so down for these posts that assume the best of people instead of the worst

Okay, this part caught my attention: “…the Villain Wrangler has by now a meticulously set up method and intelligence network…to ensure that none of the children…gets hurt.” Which led me to the heartbreaking realization that one DID. Get hurt, that is, by the villain they idolized.

And all I can think is that the Villain Wrangler didn’t call in the heroes. They didn’t call in another heart-of-gold villain. No. The VW rolled up their sleeves and went after this person themselves. This project is their baby, after all. If they get the accolades for the successes, they must also shoulder the burden of the failures.

The VW hunts down the villain that crossed the line. Their punishment is swift and horrifying; no hero would have the stomach to mete out justice in such a way, and no villain would have the desire to get quite that much blood on their own hands.

There’s. So. Much. Blood.

The Villain Wrangler never forgets. They increase security, increase the hours and background checks, they increase the graveside visits to the child they failed.

Just the one. But one is one too many.

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