until then have this subpar one

Hello friends! Guess who’s back? Spoiler - it’s me. So I have a confession - I love soulmate AUs. I’ve not written Pietro in a while so I eased myself into this by focusing predominantly on another character. It needs a second part to finish it off which I’ll upload soon. Hopefully the plot is twisty and interesting enough for you guys. Thanks to @sxnali for the request; I loved it. Enjoy, my darlings!

Prompt[s]: (if you don’t mind) can you do a soulmate au where the first words they say to each other are tattooed somewhere on the other’s body? with pietro please? (im sorry if this sent twice i think i hit send in the middle of typing this but im not sure oops)

‘Almost a Mistake’ (Part 1)

There was a reason that New York was considered the city that never sleeps. Regardless of the hour, life was buzzing, left, right, and centre. Cars clamoured the roads in lines of traffic, and birds flew overhead, seeking and taking every opportunity amongst the crowds of hungry people that swarmed the streets.

The smell of hot dogs was prominent – especially on a Saturday when everyone and his mate was out on the streets. You wished that you could say you too had come out for fun but work had called you in for overtime, and the coming winter’s energy bills convinced you to take it.

With your headphones safely nestled on your head, you navigated the bustling tourists with your eyes on your iPod, trying to pick the best tune for the next leg of your journey. You’d splashed out on new headphones and for good reason – there were noise cancelling. As far as you were concerned, that made them worth the cost, tuning out the soundtrack of the city as you walked.

Each time you skipped a song, there was a moment of quiet where the world bled in. You heard horns beeping, steps smacking against the pavement, and even someone shouting in the distance. Probably a food vendor trying to sell to a passer-by. You skipped another song and got another flash of reality. Cooing pigeons, roaring engines, and still a person shouting. It was definitely male, and getting closer.

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anonymous asked:

AAAAA oh god pleasse do lams 25!! i adore you and your writing!


“What the hell,” John grumbles angrily, flipping through the school paper in frustration. His article has been bumped, again, replaced with something whoever this A. Ham kid has written. He huffs through his nose, annoyed. The pages crinkle a little as he lets his tension out through his fists, and he wants to ball up the entire paper and then jump on it, but he doesn’t want to cause a scene in the middle of the hallway.

That article was good, damnit. He worked hard on it. Angelica promised him that it’d get in, and yet again he’s been passed up. John wants to punch that A. Ham kid in the face, whoever the fuck they are.

He puts in extra effort over the next week, finding the most interesting and topical subject he can and editing and polishing until it’s perfect. He pesters Angelica until she all but promises him in blood that it’ll get in, and grins in smug satisfaction when he reads his article, which he knows off by heart at this point, in the paper the next week.

A. Ham isn’t anywhere in the paper. John checked. Twice.

He’s smiling over a particular turn of phrase that he’s really proud of when he’s jolted out of it by someone yelling from the other end of the hallway.

“Hey!” an angry looking short boy with very nearly ink black hair tied up in a ribbon of all things is waving his arms and stomping down the hallway, eyes on John, headed towards him like a missile.

“Uh,” John says, stumped. “Do I know you?”

“You’re J. Laurens right?” the guy snaps. His nostrils are flared. John’s reminded of his baby sister seconds before she throws a temper tantrum and hastily moves his bag in front of his crotch, lest this kid decides to knee him in the nuts.

“Yes,” he confirms slowly, warily.

“I’m A. Ham,” the kid says firmly, holding out his hand. “Alexander,” and John finds himself nearly getting his arm pulled out of his socket with the force of the handshake.

“John,” he provides faintly. “But most people call me Jack.”

“Don’t ever call me Alex,” Alexander warns, and John quickly lets go of his hand. This guy is intense, what the fuck. His eyes are like deep dark wells, endless, and John feels a bit entranced.

“Anyway,” Alexander continues like he didn’t just implicitly threaten John, “I wanted to talk to you about your article. Although I enjoyed reading it, I don’t think my piece deserved to get tossed and replaced by yours.”

John bristles, offended. “Excuse me, my pieces have been getting bumped for weeks because of you,” he hisses.

Alexander narrows his eyes. “Maybe that’s because my pieces are better than yours,” and all of John’s patience flies out of the window.

“What the fuck, dude, you don’t get to decide that. My work is good, it was a staple of the paper until you turned up and ruined everything. It’s not my fault that your work this week was subpar and mine was superior.”

Alexander’s mouth drops open. “You’ve not even read the article I wrote for this week! No one has! Because it’s not in the paper!”

“You’ve not read my articles for all the weeks you were in the paper and I wasn’t either!” John retorts. “Who gives you the right to say yours is better than mine?”

“Fine,” Alexander says through gritted teeth. “We’ll ask Angelica.”

Angelica takes one look at them and starts shaking her head. “No, no, I am not doing this, you can take your pissing contest somewhere else.”

“Angie,” John tries, “Just settle this one thing between us and then we’ll be out of your hair, I swear. Just… Who’s writing is better, mine or his?”

Angelica pinches the bridge of her nose. “I am not doing this. Both of you are brilliant. If I had my way you’d both be in the paper, but we don’t have enough room for two political commentaries every week. People would find it too depressing to read!”

“But-” Alexander starts, but Angelica holds up her hand to halt him. “No, I’m done with this, I have actual work to do. See you boys around,” and with that she’s gone.

John crosses his arms. Damn her for being so reasonable.

“What does she mean there’s not enough room for two political commentaries? The whole paper would be political commentary if I had my way. Who cares if people think it’s depressing, the press is there to inform and present the world. They can’t just bury their heads in the sand and pretend it’s not happening. This is the political climate we’ll be going into when we graduate, we need to know as much about it as possible!” Alexander rants, and John finds himself nodding.

“People are dumb,” he says, and Alexander nods his head vehemently in agreement.

“Oh well,” he says, “I guess we’ll just have to write our own paper, huh?”

John blinks at him. “What?”

“You in? We could go half and half. That way we’d both be in the paper and we’d get to write as much as we want about whatever we want.”

John stares at him, at his big earnest eyes, and then smiles slowly. “I’m in,” he holds his hand out for Alexander to shake.

“Hey!” he yelps, when Alexander nearly pulls his shoulder from his socket, for the second time. “I need that arm to write with!”

“You mean you’re not ambidextrous?” Alexander tilts his head, smirking. “I guess I am better than you, after all.”

Suspended in Motion by Pameluke | @janoda

Chapters: 1/1 (1584 words)

Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood

Characters: Alec Lightwood, Magnus Bane

Additional Tags: Domestic Fluff, Horny Alec Lightwood, High Warlock of Brooklyn Magnus Bane, Magnus Bane’s Suspenders, Alec Loves Magnus’ Clothing, Downworlder Dad Magnus Bane, Warlock Mentor Magnus Bane, Making Out, Post-Season/Series 02


But that would have to wait until Magnus finished his call, so Alec settled down against the back of the couch and watched his boyfriend move across the loft. He liked this side of Magnus. Dressed to the nines still from their date, talking about goblin spit and sheep guts, while sipping expensive wine.


Magnus has to interrupt a date to help a young Warlock, and Alec distracts himself with Magnus’ everything.

Read on AO3

“I’m just walking in, let me see if I can dig up my copy,” Magnus said into his phone. It had been buzzing with texts for almost their entire walk from the restaurant, so when it rang with their home in sight, Magnus had taken the call apologetically.

“It’s Mariken,” he said to Alec.

“She okay?” Alec asked, holding the door to the lobby open for Magnus. Mariken was one of the young warlocks Magnus mentored. She’d come into her powers at sixteen and had promptly run away from her family. She’d been homeless for almost two years before Magnus took her under his wings. Alec would never mind one of Magnus’ protégées interrupting their date. But he liked Mariken–she was nice, if a little shy–and he wanted her to be okay.

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anonymous asked:

Omg how much of a jerk was shaotian to wenzhou during the training days???

excerpt from part 5 of the prequel, where the training camp youths just watched blue rain lose to hundred blossoms:

“Useless old bastard!” the youth yelled at the television screen. The others watching were all silent. After all, Huang Shaotian was the only one in the club that dared to criticize and insult Captain Wei Chen like this.

“This was never something that someone could pull off by themselves.” At this moment, another person spoke up from the group crowded in front of the television. 

Looking at this person, Huang Shaotian sneered. “What insight does our deadlast have for us today?”

The deadlast… A very rude name that made even the bystanders feel somewhat awkward. But since the day that Yu Wenzhou entered the Blue Rain training camp, his performance had always been subpar. Because of his pitifully slow handspeed, no one thought he had the potential to become a proplayer.

But he’d stayed. With each round of elimination, everyone thought he’d be kicked out, but he ended up lasting until the very end, and ultimately became an official member of Blue Rain’s reserve team. 

Even so, his handspeed hadn’t improved at all, so among the group that had passed the eliminations, he was indeed the deadlast. The fact that it was the star prodigy Huang Shaotian calling him this only gave the label more weight.

But Yu Wenzhou was neither angry nor annoyed - he merely stated his view calmly. “Glory is not a single player game.”

“Oh? Ye Qiu’s catchphrase?” Huang Shaotian said disdainfully. Ye Qiu was last season’s MVP, and this quote of his was highly regarded by the Glory community. But Huang Shaotian didn’t seem to treat it as all that important.

“It’s not just a catchphrase, it’s the truth,” Yu Wenzhou replied, still calm.

“So you’re saying that if you were also on the field, the situation would’ve been different?” Huang Shaotian said, snickering.

“No. The one on the field should be you.”

Huang Shaotian froze. When anyone said one sentence to him, he was the kind of person to say three sentences back. But now, he was silent. He couldn’t help but think - if he had been on the field, if his Troubling Rain had been beside Swoksaar, what could he have done?

“Uh… About that…” Finally, he started to reply. But when he opened his mouth, he found that there was no one in front of him. That guy had left, just like that.

He’d been lectured by the deadlast? Once again, Huang Shaotian was left in shock.


oh man honestly this is something i love thinking and speculating about… really wanted to write something focused on their very early days. 

but basically yeah shaotian was pretty mean, always calling him the deadlast. though wenzhou was a very calm person even back then, and he never let it bother him (outwardly). after all, shaotian even insulted their captain wei chen, that’s just the kind of person he was
you can kinda see their relationship developing through the snippets featuring them in the prequel, which is quite nice. gotta love those antagonistic relationships blossoming into friendship / more

Early (one-shot)

Don’t mind me sliding in here with this commission for @scraplet! They asked for Megatron/Minimus goodness and how could I say no?? Love these bots and had a blast with this commission.

Link to AO3 will be here once I get it up there later tonight or tomorrow.

Title: Early

Series: MTMTE

Ship: Megatron/Minimus

Rating/warnings: R for that Robofucking. Aka sticky interfacing and fluff happening on several surfaces in Megatron’s habsuite. 

When Minimus was on shift, he didn’t look forward to the end of it. There was no point – thinking about how much time was left didn’t make it pass any faster, and in fact just led to being less productive while waiting that same amount of time. It was a useless mental exercise that resulted in subpar work.

It didn’t escape him that until recently that had been an easy philosophy to follow since work was, in fact, the highlight of Ultra Magnus’s day. When it was over he was left with spare time that he had no one to share it with. Or, at least, no one that he felt comfortable reaching out to in that manner.

But, for better or worse, his time on the Lost Light had changed that.

Minimus was actually able to exist outside of Ultra Magnus. Minimus had friends and companions. Minimus could have, Primus save him, fun.

And at that moment, Minimus was checking his chronometer for the third time in practically as many minutes, holding back an exasperated ex-vent.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Are you pumped for BBC's new Sexy Les Mis™?

i didn’t know it was a thing until you mentioned it, anon, but yeah! i’m honestly down to watch any adapation of les mis, even ones that are considered subpar. i just…. love this story. always have.

happy little things about kent parson

  • his goofy cowlick sticks up even when the rest of his hair is soaked in sweat or fresh out of the shower
  • he wears backwards baseball caps constantly, even while shirtless/in his underwear in the locker room
  • he knows how to play to the media but doesn’t hog the spotlight when it comes to his team; in postgame interviews, he points out his teammates’ contributions like a proud dad and refuses to let anyone attribute their successes to him
  • he’s also the first to take the blame for a loss or a shoddy game–the easiest way to get him riled up is to imply that one of his teammates (particularly a younger one) was responsible for a subpar performance on the ice
  • he doesn’t like being alone when he’s having a bad day, and his teammates have gotten rly good at noticing when he’s not doing great so they’ve got an unspoken agreement to make sure someone’s available to watch netflix and cuddle or go out and do weird shit in las vegas until he feels okay again
  • he has definitely fallen asleep with/on top of every member of his team at least once. one time there was a semi-accidental group nap involving five or six of them before an away game, and after they won spectacularly that night it was made an informal roadie ritual to designate one room for pregame team naps (totally optional, ofc, but everybody’s at least tried it)
I Choose You: A High School AU

~Based off this artwork~

It started where any great high school story starts: gym class, dodgeball day. This was the first time of the semester playing the game and the competitive spirit was in the air. Dean might have been a new student, but the game of dodgeball never changed. He surveyed the room as the two captains, both burly meatheads from the football team, began selecting their teammates. As the new boy, Dean fully expected to be chosen last. Soon, the selection pool was whittled down to two: Dean, and a pale, lanky boy with dark brown hair. Dean could see the boy’s blue eyes light up in hope as he assessed the situation, no doubt the kid was used to being last pick. 

“Ugh. Not Novak,” one of the meatheads boomed, “I’ll take the new kid.”

The other team complained loudly as the boy joined their ranks, and Dean couldn’t help but feel bad. His feelings grew worse as the game progressed and it was apparent Novak, though not stellar, wasn’t nearly as bad as boys chosen before him. His rejection wasn’t strategic, it was personal, and it made Dean angry.

Dean, thanks to all of his father’s various physical training regiments, happened to be fantastic at dodgeball. As he pegged the final opponent, a cheer rose up. It was decided by all that he was to become a team leader.

Once again, the boys lined up, ready for the picking. The other captain chose a fellow meathead, then all eyes were on Dean. Everyone wanted to be on his team now.

“Hey, Novak,” Dean called, not knowing the boy’s first name, “I choose you.”

Disbelieving whispers broke out in the gym. “Uh, Dean,” one of the boys called out, “You’re new here, but nobody actually wants—”

“I want him,” Dean said firmly, “That’s final.” It was dead silent as Cas made his way to the front of the gym to join Dean. Dean extended a hand, “You got a first name?”

“Castiel,” the boy replied with a tentative grin, taking Dean’s hand, “But you can call me Cas.”


And on that fateful day freshman year, something great was born. Though Dean and Cas couldn’t have been more different, they were inseparable. Everyone knew if you messed with Castiel, you’d have to face Dean—and vice versa. 


Fall turned to Winter and so on until almost two years had passed since the dodgeball incident. While Cas began to do better, getting good grades, finding a niche, Dean began to do worse. His grades were poor, his home life subpar and, worst of all, he was being blackmailed. 

It had happened towards the end of sophomore year when Michael, son of the principal and one of the most popular boys at school, caught Dean stealing. Dean didn’t steal for kicks, but food had been running low at the house, his father had been preoccupied drinking and his little brother Sam was going hungry. Rather than out Dean to the principal, however, Michael used the opportunity to force Dean to do his dirty work; Dean was the muscle behind any of Michael’s demands.

When Dean finally snapped, the entire school knew. “He’s blackmailing me!” Dean shouted to a group of onlookers who had formed when Michael chewed Dean out for not beating up a particular freshman. 

“Come on, guys,” Michael said smoothly, “Who are you going to choose? Him, or me?”

The students exchanged looks and slowly, they all made their way to Michael’s side. Some with muttered apologies to Dean, but, still, they abandoned him nonetheless. Dean was left alone, wondering about how much trouble he was going to get into now that he refused to work for Michael.

Dean tried his best to stare the other kids down, but nothing is less intimidating than one guy against thirty. It was then he was caught from behind in an enthusiastic hug. Dean turned, relaxing when he realized it was only Cas, and allowed Cas to press his face into Dean’s soft hoodie. 

“Hey, Winchester,” Cas said, his voice slightly muffled, “I choose you.”

Dean shook his head. “Times are different now, Cas. Nobody actually wants me around.” He gestured to the crowd surrounding Michael and sighed.

“I want you,” Cas replied firmly, “That’s final.” 

Suddenly, it didn’t matter how many people supported him. Dean had Cas and somehow, in a way Dean couldn’t quite explain, that was enough.


Soooo it has almost been 2 months since I reached 1k followers.  It was hecka fun these last 2 months.  Thank you so much to my wonderful followers for following me!!  I didn’t think I’d reach 2k much so soon but here you all are, sharing our love for Carmilla together (:  The Carmilla fandom has been such an amazing experience and like I said, I’ve only been a fan since February (me fangirling alone on my anime blog) and I didn’t have this blog until June.  In this short amount of time, I’ve experienced so much from this small fandom.  For example, Fan Expo ANNNND the viewing party?  Shout out to @atwells-cheekbones​​ for being my plus one for the viewing party, I would’ve been a loner nervous wreck without ya :3  

I promised to follow more creampuffs but I still haven’t gotten around to doing that yet u_u  I like seeing all the posts from my dashboard so I refuse to follow too many people D:

Until next time, this resident creampuff loner will continue to blog and make subpar graphics ~ Noot Noot // Sincerely, Gabi

Now without further ado, here are the people I’ll follow forever:

@atwells-cheekbones | @bnaz | @carmillasleatherpants | @carmillatexts | @carmillicious | @elisebaumans | @frillyhex | @fullfrontalnerdity | @negovanmann | @neon-demetria | @sassyvanlis | @tall-tiny-and-broody | @vanlisaf | @yourekilllingmehollis

+ Carmilla cast & crew
+ Transmedia

I'm Not Sad

I gave myself a time limit to be sad and said to myself that is all I get; I’ve followed my rule and I’ve had zero issues. I actually feel pretty fucking good. Either this is further proof that I am one stubborn ass bitch or my brain actually knows I did the right thing by closing the door permanently, so that I can open a new one.

And my goodbye text was way more eloquently worded than lose my fucking number like the last time. I know my worth and I refuse to settle for subpar, fucker should have waited until he had one of his biggest issues taken care of before he ever messaged me informing me that he missed me.