you should all get as far away from me as possible

Study tips! - 2017

Hi guys! These are the tips that I have for now, the truth is that they work quite a bit at the time of studying and I hope they do the same for you.

1.      Make summaries and/or schemas:

I’m a girl more of summaries than schemes (concept maps, or mind maps), but any of these are good to analyze, understand and remember better what one is studying at the time. I know that many people, like me, have the problem to put what they were studied in either of these two methods, for example, I’m not very good with the schemes, therefore I support more on summaries and to make them as small as possible, carefully not to forget anything about what I am summarizing; This is why I want to advise you that no matter how difficult and complicated it seem any of these methods, try it. Eventually, you will handled the way to do it and you’ll not realize when you will be all experts.

2.      Uses colors:

Yes, I won’t deny it, I’m 100% a girl of colors. I feel incomplete, weird, as if something will miss me when my notes do not have color, at least highlight my titles, I need it, it’s something that is a part of me.

Careful! Use colors doesn’t mean that our notes are freshly come out from a fairy oven and it looks like a rainbow, no. Use them, but sparingly, as fair and necessary to put your notes look cute and you can difference the titles of the rest, or the term of its meaning… and of course the most important thing, that are organized and clean so that when it comes the time for studying, you can understand everything.

More than for aesthetics, I occupy the colors in order to have a more dynamic vision in my notebook, allowing me to better understand, memorize better and above all to find what I want more easily. However, I won’t deny that I also like to have my notes beautiful and colorful, I say, who don’t like to have their notes organized and beautiful? To nobody.

3.      Organize your time:

Sometimes when we sit at our study site we spend hours on the same subject, without advancing in others that also we have to study, so to avoid these types of mishaps that make our work to study more heavy, because it leaves all for after, we must organize our time of study. Some occupy the “bullet journal" method for studies, others, the timer. I used the timer until I met a wonderful applications that help you concentrate and at the same time, takes your time. For example, we have a well known application called “Forest” which is available for both IOS and Android, with the difference that in Android you can download the free version, which in IOS is not yet available, but there are other applications that are similar to “Forest” that are free, such as “Be Focused”, an application that also helps you manage your time , where you can save time and designate them for return to them whenever you want, you also have the option to have breaks. The only difference between “Forest” and “Be Focused” is that the first you have the option of listening to sound of fund for greater concentration, while the second handles you only the time, without the option of background music. These two earlier applications are part of many more that you can find both Android and IOS (if you want, later I will let a post with a list of applications to study that I personally find the best of them).

To organize your time, you must rely on what you are studying, because it all depends on the amount of content. For example, in biology is usually much content, concepts or terms to memorize and understand, so I left a full hour to study everything and make sure that I understood. If the content is very complicated, I can add a couple of more minutes, but without passing me in the hour and a half, because you have to keep in mind that there are more to study.

4.       Explains what you studied:

That’s right, explain in your own words what you studied. This may be by voice or video recorder, the idea is that once you’ve explained everything in your own words you can hear the audio, and ensure that you’ve understood all or at least the vast majority. So you will see your failings and strengthen your weaknesses., correct your mistakes and learn from them. Personally, I recorded my voice explaining the best that I can what I’ve understood, and if I’ve doubts about having it explained well or have covered all, I send the audio to my friends or classmates, that way I can have a second opinion and make sure I have done well.

5.       Record your classes if possible:

If you need to take notes in a class, but for various reasons, are a - b or c, you can’t be able to complete them, I recommend that you carefully get your cellphone and begin to record the class quietly, and when you will be already at home can play the audio and complete your notes without missing anything.

Although, to tell the truth, I recommend over talking to your classmates and ask for

permission from the Professor, and then record the class, both in audio as an image. If the teacher still not authorized it (because it’s supposed to record the classes within an establishment is not allowed), can get a little rebellious and record, put your cellphone somewhere in the room where it isn’t seen. Sometimes be a little rebellious is not bad, it all depends on the reason why you are, right?

Carefull! This doesn’t mean that you don’t take notes in class or not pay attention because you are recording, if you don’t understand the class less you will do it through an audio or video, where you don’t have the support of your present teacher.

6.      Creates memory cards (flashcards):

Although it seems typical, they are quite effective. There is the option of to make them yourself or you can download any application that can make them, as for example Quizlet, an application that is available both IOS and Android. This will help to quickly memorize definitions of concepts, or important dates, people and their works, etc.

7.      Transfer your notes in order, rewrite:

If you are one of the people who, like me, prefer to make a draft of his notes, and then pass them in clean (rewrite them), you’ll know that this tip really works. I won’t deny that it is more work, but everything has its reward, isn’t it?

Personally I’m of people who have better visual memory, which read and write helps me to memorize better. Thus I memorize and order my notes, both at the same time. In addition, it said that rewrite is equivalent to five readings, I don’t know if that is true, but I at least feel that I memorize best rewritting, well in my time to study I remember things I’ve written and I can understand them better.

8.       Listen to music to concentrate:

The truth is that this tip is pretty ambiguous and personal, because it depends on each person. Many people can’t concentrate with noise, so they only can study in complete silence, and others simply cannot withstand be studying with so much silence. I’m of people who are in the middle.

For me is inevitable listen classical, instrumental music, rain, nature or just a relaxing study melody sounds. It helps me enough to concentrate and accompany me at the time of study. There are a variety of videos on YouTube with relaxing music, classical or instrumental music, or sounds of nature to study, as well as on Spotify playlists that are pretty good.

Personally, I listen to music when I do exercises such as mathematics or physics, and as for readings or review, normally I do without music or with one that does not have too much rhythm, as sounds of rain, wind, etc., to be able to concentrate.

9.      Search material of support:

If you feel that you still don’t understand the subject, either because it is very difficult or because you don’t understand your teacher, you can’t stay still and do nothing. You have to auto-teach you, learn and learn any other way what you are passing in classes.

For example, looking for videos that teach you what you are going through, search exercises online, Power Point presentations, PDF documents to help you supplement your notes or your knowledge. There are many channels on YouTube that can help you to study, as also pages with books, exercises, and documents about what you’re going. The idea is to find supporting material that will help you to understand what you’re learning in class, so to be able to reinforce.

10.   Stay away from your social networks:

I know that many of us it has happened that from being studying we went from one second to another to be checking our Instagram account. Best for these cases is to put the cell phone as far as possible, if needed elsewhere in your home (obviously, if you’re studying at home), and in airplane mode so that nothing interrupts your time of study. Now, to avoid entering your networks through the computer or laptop that you are using at the time of study, you can download applications that will block certain pages by a certain time, and once activated cannot be it reversed, yes or Yes you should spend that time so that the pages are unlocked. These applications exist for both Windows and Mac.

11.  Uses Post-it (sticky notes):

These help me to write down something that perhaps the teacher said in class and would not have seeing completely with the theme that we’re passing, or be any possible question test, any dimension, a concept that I don’t know.

12.  If you have any doubts, questions, ask:

As they say the teachers, or at least of my school, “There no are silly questions, only fools who don’t ask”. So, if you have doubts, ask. No matter if you make a mistake, you must solve all your doubts because that will help you better understand what you are seeing. If you are in classes and you don’t understand, ask, solve all your doubts with the professor, because once you get home to study you won’t understand almost nothing, if it is that it is absolutely nothing, by not having asked.

If you’re at home or out of classes, studying, grab your cell and ask your classmates. The idea is to clear your concern in one way or another.

Personally, I really like to be able to solve my doubts with my classmates, because in addition to answer all my questions, we can exchange notes, complementing our notes, we can learn new techniques to solve exercises, etc.

13.   Review constantly:

I know that the work of reviewing every day is quite heavy, but it works. It’s truth. At least in my experience constantly review has helped me be able to memorize better what are passing to me in classes, since the constant review helps to retain longer the lessons learned, and a day before the test it doesn’t need to study too hard, ‘cause everything I learned it was be engraved on the head, and just only a small study session will need. Therefore I recommend that when you get arrive home after school review your notes at least 15 minutes that day, and everyday, in that way you will retain in your head more time what they are seeing.

14.   Gets emails from your professors/teachers:

In my case, some of my teachers send us documents PDF or PPTs we use during their classes, to study and reinforce what we saw, as well as complement our notes. Course, I recommend that if you are still in school, you can put on agree with your classmates and create an email as a group so that way you will not have problem in contacting your teacher. This is ‘cause in some schools have problems for contact their professors outside the establishment, and there are some schools that are quite strict in that area. If you’re in university, I don’t think that will be a problem to contact you through your personal email.

Carefull! Teachers are not always so cool, or so nice, to give you their mail, some of they put many excuses since in some schools the teacher-student ethics is fairly strict with contact outside the establishment, so they are usually quite reluctant to give them, especially if the teacher is handsome, so you have to prove that you are really interested in the material support and not in him, or in harass him (even while actually are haha, the key is prove otherwise 😉).

15.  Lean on your textbooks:

Many times in our schools deliver us books of the subjects that we will see that year (either whether we should buy them or they are delivered by the same school), and either that the professor uses them little or nothing within classes, we must have in mind that the book yes serves us and helps, or at least the vast majority of them because it is a support material that contains descriptions, images and vocabulary, and to answer key in some, that helps us to know in what we were wrong (for example, the books of mathematics, following exercise can confirm your answer with the solution key), this can serve when you are studying for a test, and also the test obviously. So it is best to always bear in mind that texts that give schools if you serve, independent of whether the teachers based their class in them or not, there will always be material that will help you to complement what you taught the teacher in class.

16.  Have a fixed study site:

To study well and be able to focus without any impediment, we need a fixed and comfortable place. This place has to be clean, orderly, and as much as possible wide (extended desktop), so we can have all our scope and not deconcentrate us to go for something that you need or miss. The best thing is study in a desk in your room, or in the table of dining room of your house, but is completely forbidden study in bed, as to be overly comfortable us enters laziness and sleep, interrupting our study session, and practically ensuring a long nap.


17.  Keep a schedule of fixed study:

Personally, I’m kind of people who aren’t very organized when it comes to schedules or events. Simply plans and me not get along very well, but I don’t deny that for a time I tried it, being constant in my moment of planning what to do later (in my bullet journal) and I found it quite beneficial. Apart from planning everything and organize my time, and comply with what I should do of course, I could see the progress of my studies, but as I said the plans and I don’t we get along very well. But that doesn’t prevent that recommend you organize your time, plan what to do, and between that define a time of day that is dedicated only to study. It can be in the afternoon after school, can be in the morning before going to school, or can be at night before going to bed, no matter the time, what matters is that you should defined a time to study and you can’t move that time, this will help to discipline your brain and accustom him that in this period of the day must be aware, attentive and concentrated to absorb everything, of course without forgetting small breaks in the study session. Over time you’ll see the results, giving you features that you do better absorb the information, that in that period of time your brain will be more attentive to what he reads or exercises, so you can understand much better than before.

+ Bonus: Organize your times.
For this, the best is do the technique of bullet journal, you can also go to the planner, but personally I like the BJ more, although like I said, I didn’t last long because a I’m really bad in planning constantly, but during the time I did it worked perfect, so I recommend that even if you are just as bad planning constantly, like me, try it. Who knows? Perhaps you become experts in the bullet journal.

Regards! 😄✌💕

{Photos: Pinterest and Google]

This property is HOA-Free.

This is a long one, because it involves a growing escalation of actions. TLDR at the bottom. Some terms are translated because I don’t live in an English-speaking country.

We moved houses last year, to the ugliest in the street. The previous owners must have loved Mondriaan, because the front was red/blue/yellow in windowframes and door. One paintjob, many thankful neighbors and several months later, I get an invitation to a voluntary “Collective of inhabitants”, the terms read like an opt-in HOA that you can never leave. A long list of restrictions, and no benefits? No thanks.

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Some things about Net Neutrality being threatened that I haven’t seen many comments on:

- The OOOONNLY people benefiting from this possible rollback are corporate shareholders. 

- The removal of NN would result in few if any new jobs whatsoever, so any argument that it would help the economy is null and void (btw, we’re not actually in a recession anymore, in case anyone still thought that. The US’s economy, while it has plateaued in actual growth at about 2%, it’s actually pretty high in the business cycle.)

- Limitation and partisan censorship is a major concern (I lied that one is what everyone is talking about)

- In fact it will HURT online businesses, which will damage the small business sector in general.

- And last but not least: It is going to have a majorly negative impact on the education system. I just finished highschool in May and let me tell you, even rural schools are getting more and more technology and internet dependent. Students frequently, if not regularly, are sent home with online assignments. How can students possibly be expected to finish an online homework assignment if they can’t even remotely begin to afford internet? This is already an issue in rural and poor and POC dominated areas, and should Net Neutrality be removed and access to the internet be placed back into money hungry corporate hands, it will be an even more massive and far worse problem that will only perpetuate low education levels in these areas. what if their assignment requires research on a website that their partisan provider has decided to censor? You get a zero. Especially if you’re a college student that can’t afford another $150 a month just to get ok-ish internet speeds. 

- This gives me great concern for marginalized and outcast kids. The internet has been one of the very, very few places where LGBT+ and POC children and people in general can go and feel safe and accepted and loved and celebrated for how/who they are. Imagine that that’s the ONLY place you feel safe and okay and then that gets taken away from you. Early teen suicide rates are already high enough. 

This is all just a disgusting money grab by the GOP and other politicians who are invested in cable and cellular companies. Call or message your congressional representatives to oppose. Drown them in resistance. I’ve already found several posts with links that let you do that. 

Hot Off The Press

Another AU where Jacky-Boy is a hockey player and Bitty has a job that involves hockey bc that’s my aesthetic. Anyway, I really know nothing about how the world of sports journalism works so there is probably some inaccuracies in here, but it’s an AU so who cares. Artistic license and all that. Very slightly NSFW (i just wanted to get all the warnings out there). 

***

“Are you into men?”

Jack has been asked this question before, but in such a subtle way (and typically involving Parson) that it’s easy to avoid. No reporter has ever straight out asked him. Besides, he’s not gay. He’s bisexual. So when Jack usually tells them, “No.” it’s not a lie. However, this time it feels different. Maybe it wasn’t just this particular time, but all the times added onto each other that’s finally causing him to really think about what hole he’s digging himself into.

The blunt question has him feeling panicky and the other presser notice his reaction too. Jack can’t say no, because that’s not true. He is into men. Jack’s panic quickly shifts, and now he just feels like shoving the microphones away and storming out, because this is hockey goddammit. Not E! news.

“Excuse me?” Jack clears his throat, trying to buy himself some time to think of a properly crafted response. Over the years, he’s developed a talent for that.

But everything is on overdrive and he feels his breath start to quicken again–

“Are you into men?” Another reporter asks, and it takes Jack a moment to realize that the reporter isn’t asking him. He’s asking the man who popped the question in the first place.

 All attention, including Jack’s, turns to the small blonde that got lost in the bundle of people. He holds up his mic towards the reporter who popped the question in the first place. 

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anonymous asked:

I'm going through a real rough patch and if you want to write something cheerful you have no idea how grateful I'd be.

Flash sidled up to Superman on one of the Watchtower’s mezzanines, leaning against a rail. They looked at each other sidelong, then away.

“Wanna hear my new time?” Flash asked sideways, swaying as he alternated which foot held his weight, hands on his hips.

“There’s no way you beat my time,” Superman muttered, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were in the other direction, and both men went silent as the Lanterns walked too close. Superman and Flash gave them a nod of acknowledgment, then waited for them to be at a safe distance.

“Nine seconds.”

“What!” Superman dropped his arms, whipped his head around to where Flash was grinning and bouncing on his heels. “No way.”

Flat,” Flash said.

“There’s no way.”

“Check my heartbeat if you don’t believe me,” Flash said, tapping his insignia with his thumb. Then he frowned. “Actually, don’t, I’m pretty excited about this so my pulse is probably crazy.”

His heart always sounded like an angry hummingbird trapped between his lungs, but Barry was also a notoriously terrible liar, so it wasn’t as relevant as it could have been.

Dangit,” Superman said, crossing his arms again. He leaned back to scope out the area around them. No one seemed to be paying them much mind. “What time?”

“Eleven on a Saturday,” Flash said, looking even more smug. “You know I don’t mess around.”

“Tch!” Superman made an irritated sound, licking his canines. Then he snapped his fingers. “You forgot about–”

“Nnnope,” Flash interrupted. “I’m including the new ones in that, that’s the whole reason we had to reset our times, otherwise I’d still be at seven-point-four.”

Tch.” Superman drummed his fingers against his bicep. “Nine seconds,” he repeated, torn between irritation and awe.

“You know what that means,” Flash said, waggling his eyebrows.

Superman sighed. “Alright, where are we going?”

“I want soup.”

“Uh-huh.” Superman waited. Flash was waiting for him to ask. Superman was not going to give him the satisfaction.

“… in Saigon.”

“You’ve been watching Bourdain again,” Superman accused.

“It looked like really good soup!” Flash said, defensive.

“Fine,” Superman said, “but I am going to beat your time, and when I do–”

“Beat what, now?” Wonder Woman asked, having managed to approach them while they were distracted by negotiations.

“Nothing!” Flash and Superman said at once.

“We were just talking,” Superman said.

“About stuff,” Flash added unnecessarily. “Private, personal, man stuff.”

Wonder Woman’s eyebrows shot up. She was close enough for her lariat to hum on her hip. She looked Flash over. Flash started to turn red.

“Okay bye!” Flash said, and he was gone in a streak of red.

“Superman?” Wonder Woman asked.

“I should, uh. Hal…”

He wasn’t actually making any definitive statements, just stringing words together, and yet somehow it still managed to ring false. She watched him go, putting her hands on her hips.

She could practically sense it when Batman came up beside her, even quiet as he was.

“Do you want to know what they were talking about.”

“Do you know?” she wondered. He said nothing, so she turned to look at his face. It was as expressionless as ever, but she got the impression that he did not consider the question worthy of dignifying with a response.

He was Batman. He would never be so rude as to say ‘of course’ – but of course he knew.

“I wouldn’t want to invade his privacy,” Wonder Woman said cautiously.

“He’d tell you if you really asked,” Batman said. “They just like feeling like they have a special thing.”

“Oh.”

“Flash, especially.”

“I see.” She tapped on her lower lip as she watched Superman talk to one of the Green Lanterns. “So what’s the special thing?”

“Pick me up in the plane on Saturday and I can show you.”

She froze. Slowly, she turned to look at him. As always, being able to see him helped not at all. “Like a date?” she asked.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “More like a stakeout.”

“That could be like a date.” She was mostly saying it to tease him. Sometimes if she did it right, he turned pink and had to find a shadow to hide in.

“It’s usually not.”

“Why not?”

“I’m usually with the kids.”

“Oh!” Her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean–”

“It’s fine.”

She put her hand out to rest on his shoulder. “I would never imply–”

“I know.”

She took her hand back. “I’ll behave,” she assured him.

“You don’t have to,” he said, and she grinned.

“I’ll pick you up at ten,” she said, and she gave him an exaggerated wink as she walked away.

“It’s a date,” he murmured.


Why,” Wonder Woman asked, “are we in Florida?”

Batman was sitting beside her, and the plane was in a low hover. “Because as far as anyone can tell, this is the single biggest and busiest Walmart in the world.”

“I don’t think that explains as much as you think it does,” she said.

Batman held up a phone. A clock took up most of the screen. 10:59. “Watch,” he said, and he pointed out to the parking lot, vast and terrifying and teeming with people. She watched, and she had no idea how she was supposed to see anything in the crowd.

Finally, she spotted it. The motion too quick to be anything mortal. Would anyone on the ground notice anything more than a strong breeze?

“Oh! It’s the–” She snapped her fingers, couldn’t remember the word.

“Carts,” Batman supplied.

“Yes!”

In almost no time at all, every cart in the parking lot had been returned to one of the designated corrals. Batman pointed to something that he must have been using technology in his mask to see, because otherwise his eyes should not have been good enough. Wonder Woman was much better equipped to see Superman, standing beneath a tree and checking a stopwatch and scowling. He did some kind of motion with his arms and one leg that suggested he’d have thrown his hat to the ground, if he’d been wearing one.

“They introduced new carts,” Batman explained. “They don’t fit with the other ones, so it slows them down. Ruined their whole system.”

“They had a system?” she asked, giggling.

“No, here,” he said, tapping her arm to point again. “This is the best part. He’s frustrated.”

That’s the best part?”

“Watch what he does.”

She watched. Superman was gone again, more impossible-to-follow motion through the crowd. Things were moving. Large things.

“He’s fixing the cars!” she said, clapping her hands together.

“He’s fixing bad parking jobs,” Batman confirmed. “Because he’s mad.” There was a brief crooked curve to his mouth.

“He moved that one to a different space!”

“Illegally parked in a handicapped spot.”

“How fun.” Wonder Woman watched the people wandering through the lot, wondered how many of them had noticed what was happening and how many had disregarded it as nothing worth noticing. “Flash is the winner of this contest, then?”

“Consistently.”

“Is there a prize?”

“Clark buys him lunch. Usually somewhere he saw on a food show, since he can’t normally do that.”

“Why not?”

“Hm?”

“Barry can run anywhere, can’t he?” she asked. “I see no reason he couldn’t run to these places on his own.”

“He doesn’t like being alone in foreign countries,” Batman explained. “It makes him anxious.”

“Oh.” She returned her gaze to the parking lot. “How nice, then, that it all works out.” She frowned. “Is this weird?” she asked. “Spying on our friends like this.”

“I don’t think I’m the right person to ask.”

“Do you do this often?” she wondered. “Watch people have fun without you?”

“Define 'often’.”

Wonder Woman held up a finger in warning. “Zatanna taught me a trick.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“She says that if you ask me to define the parameters, it means the answer is bad.”

Before he could respond, there was a thump.

Superman was standing on the nose of the invisible jet.

He tapped a knuckle on the glass, until Diana opened the hatch. “Hello!” she said cheerfully.

“What are you two doing here?” Clark asked.

“We’re on a date!” Diana said.

“We’re not on a date,” Batman said.

“If you’re not on a date, can you give me a ride?”

“You’re out of our way,” Batman said.

“Nah, just drop me off in Gotham,” Clark said, slipping inside the plane, awkwardly floating between the two front seats into the back.

“You don’t even need a ride,” Bruce said, having to fit himself as far as possible into the edge of his seat so that Clark would have room to get by. “You can fly.”

“Yeah, and you can walk, but I don’t see you giving up the Batmobile.” Clark made himself comfortable in the back seat as Diana closed up the plane. “I’m craving Dimitri’s.”

“You’re too sober for Dimitri’s,” Bruce said.

“I’m always sober. You’re lucky I can tell this wasn’t a real date, or I would be really creeped out by the whole spying on me thing.”

“Don’t tell Barry we know about your special thing,” Diana said, pulling the plane out of its hover to ascend. “I don’t want to ruin it for him.”

“I won’t,” Clark assured her. “Hey, you know where we should go while we’re here?”

“No,” said Bruce.

“Where?” asked Diana.

“No,” said Bruce.

“Disney World!”

“No.”

Diana gasped.

“No.”

Clark put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “You can’t have come all the way to Florida just to see me,” he coaxed.

“I’m banned from Walmart, strongly discouraged from visiting Disney parks, and my parents are dead. I have no other reason to visit Florida.”

Peanut Butter Cookies

*throws allergic!Lance at you and runs away*

Summary: When Pidge’s birthday rolls around, Allura remembers her offhand comment about liking peanut butter. Little did she know that Lance is actually very, very allergic. (angst and fluff, and a bit of established klance because I have no self control and I ship it leave me alone)

I hardly ever post anything because I have no confidence ha so if you like it, let me know! This is very short compared to lots of other stuff I’ve written.

@taylor-tut I don’t think this is that good or even if it counts as langst/whump but I’ll tag you anyway and @voltronpaella thanks for actually getting me to post this my dude


When Allura called the Paladins into the kitchen, Lance expected some sort of emergency.

Why they’d be meeting in the kitchen, he had no idea, but he slid out of bed regardless. After removing his face mask he padded out into the hall, slightly resentful that he didn’t have time to straighten his hair.

Lance nearly bumped into Hunk in the hallway, who was also still in pajamas. The two were the last to arrive in the kitchen. He surveyed the others and found Shiro in full armor, Keith with an activated bayard, and Pidge rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with a laptop tucked under her arm.

“Princess, we’ve talked about this,” Lance grumbled. “You have got to stop interrupting my beauty sleep.”

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Prints

Summary: You and Sam leave your mark on the Impala.

Word Count: 2300

Warning: Smut, dom!Sam, dirty talk

A/N: Just something that happened. Enjoy! XOXO

“Is that a foot? Is there a footprint on the window?” Dean glares at the window through the rearview mirror, and you shift a little in the backseat to avoid his gaze.

It’s foggy and damp out, exactly the kind of weather that makes the windows fog up no matter what you do, and the three of you are piled in, ready for your next adventure.

Except there’s a footprint on Dean’s precious car.

And you know exactly where it came from.

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How to Flirt: Embarrassed Boy Edition

Summary: As soon as the first ever Cold Stone Creamery opens up in London, Phil knew he had to go. However, it wasn’t the ice cream that made him keep coming back, but rather the cute employee who looks dead in the eyes whenever he has to sing the tip jar songs.
Word Count: 4,405
Warnings: Food mentions, cussing
A/N: thanks so much to @greynihilism for prompting me this!!! I honestly love this SO MUCH. And of course thanks to @snowbunnylester for listening to me shout and for telling me to match our titles bc we are disgusting soulmates. I didn’t edit this but i’m too excited about it so idgaf! Hope you like it! 

Read it on AO3!

-  

When a new Cold Stone Creamery opened up in London, it was the biggest thing since sliced bread. Literally everyone had to try some, to get some for themselves, that way they could boast to their friends and family how they got to try it.

Phil was guilty of this. He was a slut for only two things, and those were ice cream and new shops. So when he heard a new ice cream shop was opening up? Phil pretty much shit himself. He gathered all of his friends, sat them down, and explained the situation to them. He didn’t want to say he forced them to come with him, because he didn’t. He just calmly insisted that they come with him and didn’t let them leave the room until they agreed. No biggie.

That’s how he found himself inside of Cold Stone with Kiley, Charles, and Michael. Phil was the only one who was so excited that he couldn’t stop bouncing on the balls of his feet. His friends were chattering beside him, waiting patiently for the line to go down so they could finally order, but Phil was having trouble being patient. He wanted his ice cream and he wanted it now. There were still five people in front of him and he wanted to push them all out of the way so he could order his own ice cream and press his face to the counter glass like an annoying child.

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You’re His Ex Girlfriend and You See His New Girlfriend Wearing Your T-Shirt: Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

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If she closes her eyes hard enough, and just at the right moments, Y/n can feel Harry in Dan.

It’s quite peculiar, how she finds Harry in almost anything. It’s something she finds so riveting yet so dangerous at the same time. He’s everywhere, he’s in every breath she takes and in every move she makes, and it’s something that brings her an overwhelming sense of comfort yet an overbearing sense of instability.

Dan—an individual full of insecurities and excitement—who varies oh, so differently from Harry, can feel like him if she really tries hard enough. His arms don’t hold her quite the same, and his lips aren’t as soft and flavorful, but if she squeezes her eyes shut, and she loses herself in the memories of Harry, it’s like he’s almost back again—only in the most minuscule of ways.

Which is why, now, in this moment in time, Y/n can barely keep her eyes open.

It’s the first time Y/n brought Dan to the house, letting him stop by to watch a film after his shift. It’s a little something he’s wanted to do for a while, and after many coffee dates and many pleads from Dan, she finally took the step of being completely alone with him.

Gabby decided to go to a friends house and insisted they take their time together. It started off wonderfully; a bottle of red wine, a box of chocolates, and a bag of popcorn while they watched Jaws.

It was all wonderful, until Dan decided to make the move.

Dan is on top of her, lips connecting to hers in a lustful motion. It isn’t that Y/n doesn’t want to be in this position, but more of her being hesitant to do so. She hasn’t kissed anybody since Harry, and although Dan is one of the nicest people she’s ever met, she can’t find it within herself to keep moving any more forward.

And everything about it feels wrong.

Between all the touching, all the kissing, all the feelings within her, she can’t stop thinking about Harry. She can’t stop thinking about how much she misses him and how much she wants him back. She’s still in love with him, so much so that doing this with someone else makes her feel dirty—makes her feel like she’s betraying him.

And it’s all too much, because no matter how hard she closes her eyes, no matter how hard she tries to feel him, he’s not there, and she can’t help but seem to think that he never will be—not anymore.

“No, no, stop.” She whimpers, shaking her head in an attempt to reject Dan’s restless lips.

He doesn’t stop, however, too engaged in the moment to really understand the words stuttering from her mouth. He continues kissing her, instead, moving down to her collarbones.

At this point, Y/n starts to hyperventilate. Between the sobs daring to escape her chest and the lack of air from her previous activities, everything is straining against her. She doesn’t fully understand how she was able to get this far without it being with Harry.

“Stop!”

Her arms push Dan off of her until she’s alone on the couch as he’s panting on the floor. She can’t breathe. Her chest is tightening and her cries are so harsh that her lungs are collapsing inside of her.

She reaches her hands up to the roots of her hair, pulling back on them as she tries to gather all the oxygen she can. At this point, her head feels light and her sight is completely blurred by the tears flowing out of them—ones that she doesn’t even try to stop.

“I’m s—so sor—ry.” She hiccups, her head falling to her hands.

Dan gulps as he tentatively stands from his spot on the floor, his hands up in front of him as if in a panic—trying desperately to figure out how to fix the mess being made in front of him.

He looks around the room, as if in search for something to guide him through this situation, but there’s nothing. All the room occupies is a broken woman, sobbing breathlessly on a couch in front of him, muttering incoherent phrases under her breath.

“Okay,” he huffs out, nodding his head to himself, “It’s okay, yeah? You’re okay?”

He occupies the empty spot next to her, hesitantly wrapping an arm around her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. In all honesty, Dan is complete shit at helping people during emotional breakdowns, and considering this one had happened so suddenly, he had absolutely no warning that he would be put in this position.

Y/n feels bad, she does, considering Dan doesn’t deserve the treatment she’s given him and surely doesn’t deserve what was once an innocent date to end up a complete disaster. But she can’t help it, and she can’t stop now, no matter how hard she tries.

“It’s Harry, isn’t it?”

His voice is nothing but a whisper, and the words that spoke out from his lips nearly brings every movement in Y/n’s body to a halt. She never told him that it was Harry who broke her heart, and to be honest, she doesn’t even find the strength within her to begin to question how he even knows of Harry—especially his relationship with her.

Of course, their relationship has been publicized for years, but Dan is a very closed-off type of person. He’s not much into music, either—another part of him that differs so drastically from Harry—and spends a majority of his time working or spending time outside rather than succumbing himself in social media.

He looks down at the rose ring wrapped around his pointer finger, twirling it around with the hand that was once wrapped around Y/n’s shoulders.

He knew the moment he saw Harry’s reaction that this ring very much belonged to him. He wasn’t quite sure why she sacrificed it so mindlessly—why it seemed to have no story behind it. But between everything Gabby’s told him and everything he’s gathered from her previous relationship, she wanted nothing more than to get rid of every reminder she had of him.

He doesn’t feel worthy enough for it, though. If Y/n and Harry don’t find their way back to each other, he feels she should at least give it to somebody that she loves, not somebody she needs to help her get over her heartbreak.

He slides it off his finger, placing it gently on the palm of his hand before closing his fingers into a fist.

“We can’t keep doing this, Y/n. Not if you can’t talk to me.” He mutters softly, “Not if you’re still in love with him, we’ll be getting nowhere.”

This makes her cry harder. She still doesn’t have the audacity to look up at him, no, how could she? After everything she’s done?

This is why she always ends up alone. No matter how in love she is, no matter how much effort she puts into a relationship, they always end up leaving her. It’s happened long before Harry, and she was so convinced he’d stay when he came around. She was so dead set on him being her forever, but the same thing happened again. He left, just like everyone else.

And now, Dan is leaving her, and although she can’t exactly blame him for doing so, it’s another wound to her heart—it’s another pain in her chest that only seems to increase with pain.

He sighs sadly at the sight in front of him, upset with himself that he’s probably a partial reason for her soul-shaking sobs and lack of air, but he has no other choice. If he stays with her, he’d be forcing her to love someone she doesn’t. He has to let her go if it means to possibly make amends with her happiness again.

He takes one of her shaking hands away from her face and bringing it towards his lap, spreading her fingers away from her palm so that he can set the ring softly against it.

She sobs at the sight, bringing her opposite hand to her mouth as she tries to quiet herself down.

“This was Harry’s, it always was. This belongs to you, Y/n, not me.”

She nods, trying her best to smile at him as a form of appreciation, but it fails miserably. He understands, though, that she cares, and doesn’t ask her any questions.

“I’ll let Gabby know to come home now, okay?”

He kisses the top of her head, the way he always does, before removing himself from the couch and toward the front door.

“Take care of yourself, Y/n. I mean it.”

And then, he’s gone, leaving Y/n alone in an empty house and her haunting thoughts. She feels the world is closing in on her, only giving her a restricted amount of air and a limited amount of light to see what’s in front of her.

She’s alone—she’s left by herself in a dark room that’s only being illuminated by the television light, where nobody can hear her, where nobody can touch her, where nobody can see her; in a place where she just can’t trust herself.

She’s left alone, as she’s always left, and she just can’t take it anymore.

Her emotions become so strong that her body collapses onto the floor, her head throbbing and throat burning from all the tears and cries. She can’t breathe, her lungs failing to take in oxygen and her chest is pounding.

It’s so bad that if Gabby doesn’t come home soon, she actually believes she’s going to die. She feels the tug on her heart and feels how hard it is for it to do its job properly—she practically feels it overworking itself.

“Oh, God.”

Gabby finds her on the floor, making her immediately drop her purse and run to her collapsed body. Y/n is a withering mess underneath her, completely drenched in sweat as violent sobs erupt from her body.

She’s quick to sit her up properly onto the floor before lifting her back onto the couch, running a comforting hand down the side of her neck as she begins to shush her down to a calm state. However, her attempt falters when Y/n shakes her head to remove Gabby’s touch from her neck.

“I can’t—I can’t—“

She tries to find words to explain what’s happening to her right now. Between the pain in her body and the feeling in her head, her brain is scrambling with so many fearful thoughts that the only thing she can truly comprehend is being saved from this horrifying feeling.

“Hospital.”

Gabby is taken aback when she says it, completely astonished by just how serious this all is. She realizes this isn’t a situation that she can fix on her own, and it makes her feel like such a bad friend that she can’t give her what she needs.

Tears fall from her eyes in panic, well aware that her friend is undergoing something far worse than a mental breakdown, but also knows that the hospital won’t be able to help her.

Only Harry can.

“Let me call for help, okay?“ She asks softly. “I’m gonna send help.”

When Harry sees Gabby’s contact light up his phone, something inside of him instantly fills with worry. He knows, without a doubt, that Gabby hates him more than anybody ever since what happened. And knowing her so well, she would never reach out to him, especially when her negative feelings toward him were so strong, unless it’s serious.

“Gabby?”

“You have to do something, Harry.” She cries through the phone, peaking over her shoulder to look over Y/n from her location in the kitchen.

She’s still a mess, holding her hand over her heart as if it were going to mend the pain. Her head is thrown over the back of the couch, her other hand running over her face continuously. Her sobs haven’t settled, only seeming to increase with panic over the unfamiliar reaction occurring over her body.

“She thinks you don’t want her and—Harry she thinks she’s dying. Her heart is so broken. She keeps saying her heart is going to fail her and I don’t—I don’t know what to do. I don’t think there’s anything I can do. She—she was trying so hard. Harry, please, you have to—you have to—“

Harry leans on his elbows over the kitchen counter, huffing out a shaky breath when he hears both Gabby and Y/n’s cries through the phone. He rubs his hand over his face, doing anything to prevent the tears nearly pooling out from his eyes.

He’d be lying if he said that guilt isn’t eating him alive in this moment. And it’s not that he hasn’t felt any remorse or any guilt since he’d broken Y/n’s heart, but he’s now fully aware that he has to look at the damage he’s done. He’ll have to witness all the pain, all the heartbreak he’s put her through, and nothing makes him feel worse.

“I’ll do anything.” He whimpers. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I promise, I won’t keep doing this to her, you have to believe me. Just—“ he lets out a broken breath, reaching his hand up to rub his eyes to prevent any tears from escaping, “just tell me what to do.”

Gabby wipes the tears from her cheeks, yet again peering over to watch over Y/n on the couch. To her dismay, there is absolutely no improvement.

“Come here, pick her up, and bring her home. Just talk to her, please. Nothing makes her feel worse than believing you don’t want her anymore. Hell, even if you don’t—I don’t know with you anymore—just give her something. You’re the only one that can fix this.”

He sighs, nodding his head before making his way out of his house without much of a response to her. He’s only concerned for Y/n, and is so focused on getting to her so that he can prove to her that he’s changed—that he’s not the same Harry he was and is going to be there for her for as long as his life lasts, even if she doesn’t allow it.

But it’s upon arrival he realizes how much more serious this is than he thought. She’s completely breaking down, every inch of her shaking and fear written on her face. She’s a complete and utter mess, a completely wrecked version of such a beautiful, unbroken woman who had so much love in her heart and surrounded by so much love in the air.

And even though Harry knows she believes she’s going to die, apart of him believes she’s already dead. The life inside of her has burned out and is now just a product of what once was. The Y/n he always known is long gone—so far gone he almost doesn’t believe it’s her.

He looks at her with the most distraught and sympathetic look Gabby has ever seen. She has never seen so much guilt in somebody before that—no matter how much she hates him—she can’t help but feel sorry for him, too.

“Baby, hey. Hey now, it’s alright.” He whispers, kneeling in front of Y/n’s shaking figure and tentatively reaching for her hair so that he can attempt to calm her down. “I’m here now, I’m right here.”

A pitiful sound leaves her lips when she looks up at him; something between a whine, a sob, and a groan. It’s messy from her throat being raw from all the screaming and cries, and it leaves an indescribable pain that only makes her cries stronger.

She can’t even think properly, everything in her body overworking itself. It’s something she’s never experienced before, and all the fears of it being permanent rush through her veins—leaving her with an overwhelming amount of anxiety.

“She’s having a panic attack.” Harry mumbles to Gabby, making sure to rub gently over the back of Y/n’s neck. Although panic attacks weren’t common for her, whenever she was overwhelmed and stressed, this gesture always seemed calmed her down.

“I don’t know what to do. I can’t drive with her like this I—Gabby, how do I focus with her like this?” He cries, the situation in front of him making his body turn to shambles, “Especially when it’s my fault? How do I—do I keep her here until she’s calm? I don’t—I don’t know—”

Gabby shakes her head, reaching her hand over to graze his tense shoulder. She squeezes the muscle softly, almost as a sort of reassurance.

“She needs home, Harry—” she whispers, “she needs you.

He nods, choking back sobs as he brushes the hair out of Y/n’s face. The skin of her face is red and completely soaked, but this is the first time he’s seen her since the morning in the grocery store, and she’s never looked so beautiful.

“I’m going to take you home with me, Y/n. But I need you to breathe for me, can you do that?” He asks, holding her face delicately between his hands, “Breathe with me.”

Y/n sucks in a deep breath when Harry inhales deeply, attempting to rid all the anxiety and pain settling inside of her. Her inhale is broken between hiccups and cries, but as she keeps eye contact with him as she tries to calm down, a little part of her feels revived.

“It hurts.” She whimpers between sobs, referring to the pain in her chest and the throbbing in her head that just can’t seem to heal.

She watches as Harry’s face scrunches with an agonizing cry, and she knows he’s aware of exactly what she’s talking about. She’s been brokenhearted for so long, she doesn’t even think he’s the least bit shocked when she tells him her heart is hurting.

“I know, baby. I know.” He whispers as he kisses her forehead gently. “Let’s get you home, yeah? Make you feel better?”

And as much as she wants to hate him, or yell at him for everything he’s done to her and make him understand just how much of her life he’s ruined, she genuinely feels like her body is going to collapse at any given moment. She needs him, even if it’s just for right now, she has to just focus on everything happening in the now. Harry’s come back to her and she’s about to go back home.

Because if she doesn’t think about the present moment—Harry holding her, Harry kissing her, Harry about to take the both of them back to their house—she’ll never find a way to fix herself. She’ll be stuck in this anxiety and pain for far too long—so long that it could actually kill her.

So she closes her eyes, only focusing on his touch and his breath fanning over her wet face. She forgets the t-shirt, she forgets all the times he’s ignored her after declaring them to take a break, and she forgets about Jessica. At least for right now, she can focus on all that tomorrow.

She nods, and it’s then Harry notices how much more calm she is. Although she’s still crying and still incapable of speaking much from the aching in her throat, she’s breathing properly again and her once undying sobs have turned into soft whimpers.

He leans in so that he can properly wrap his arms around her, hooking one hand on her back and the other under her knees. There’s no way in hell she’s capable of walking—not like this, and in all honesty, he would much rather hold her now than leave her side for another second.

It’s when Y/n is being held so close to him again that the aching in her chest seems to almost vanish completely. And although there is still a weight on top of her lungs, and still a slight uncomfortableness in her heart, she’s finally able to breathe again.

“I’m gonna make this all better, okay? I promise you, gonna fix you.” He mumbles with his lips against her hairline, making sure to keep rubbing the back of her neck softly.

It’s a promise he intends on keeping—a promise he never plans on breaking again. He could never live with himself if he were to keep putting her through all of this pain. She’s the most undeserving person—he knows that—and he knows she’s too pure to go through all that she’s been through the past couple of months.

The car ride is completely silent, only Y/n’s cries and small sniffles filling the empty space. Although she still isn’t completely calm, she’s improved so much since he first came to pick her up and it is able to keep his mind at ease. At least while he drives.

And he doesn’t miss her hand sneaking over the console to intertwine her fingers with his. He doesn’t expect it but he also doesn’t mind it. If anything, it makes him feel better just as much as it does her.

When they pull up to the driveway of their once shared house, every bit of composure she’s withheld in her body is breaking down by the second. Her strength is wearing thin, and knowing she’ll be reuniting in the house where Y/n and Harry once had everything makes her more afraid than ever.

Harry notices her sudden shift in mood and doesn’t hesitate to unbuckle himself from his seat and walk around the car to where her exhausted figure is sobbing, slumped against the passenger seat. He sighs meekly before unbuckling her, as well, and lifting her against him the way he had before.

“Hey there, s’alright, I’m here. We’ll work this out, but you need to sleep first, yeah? Looking very pale and I know you well enough to see you’ve been lacking sleep.”

Although they both know Y/n isn’t going to respond, she wants to continue listening to him speak. It’s something she hasn’t heard in so long, and she wouldn’t even care if he was talking about the goddamn weather, she just wants to hear him again.

He keeps talking, too, because he notices the effects of his voice on her anxiety and how the muscles in her body relax under his words. He’ll stop at nothing to make sure she’s okay again, even if it means having a one-sided conversation.

“You know how you are, too—grumpy and sensitive when you’re tired. Almost take my head off if you don’t get more than seven hours. Remember that one time at my mum’s Christmas dinner party? Barely slept the night before from wrapping so many gifts that you genuinely got upset with me for not knowing your favorite alcoholic beverage.” He chuckles softly. “Funny lil thing.“

Through the nonstop crying and the frown that hasn’t left Y/n’s lips in what feels like an eternity, the first smile stretches from her lips. It’s the smallest closed mouth smile he’s ever seen, but it’s there, and it’s the most genuine feeling of happiness she’s had in so long.

When Harry unlocks the door, he wastes no time making his way over to their couch. He knows very well that she wouldn’t want to sleep on their bed, considering she’s well aware of what he did with Jessica on that bed and he wants no reason to upset her any further.

He sets her down in front of the couch, petting the top of her head softly before gathering a blanket and a pillow for her to sleep on.

He sets it up like a bed, almost, before turning to leave so that she can have her privacy. He doesn’t think she’d want to sleep with him, so he decides to sleep in the guest bedroom since he knows she’d always pick the living room couch over that room.

But before he gets too far, Y/n weakly captures his fingers in hers, pulling him back towards her.

His head snaps down to her finger, noticing the rose ring being worn beautifully on her middle finger. He almost chokes when he sees it on her, eyes wide and lips slightly parted in half confusion and half in awe.

“Please,” she whimpers, “stay.”

He snaps out of his trance at her words, slowly nodding his head as a small “of course” falls from his lips.

He lays comfortably on the couch, looking up at her when he finds a position where she can lay beside him.

“If you want you can take the—alright” he huffs.

His eyes narrow as he watches her lay on top of him—fully on top of him; her cheek nesting right where his shoulder meets his neck as her arms slither around his sides until her hands meet under his back. Her legs tangle perfectly in between his, and in any other circumstance, this probably wouldn’t have been an ideal sleeping position for the either of them. But Y/n is exhausted, both physically and mentally, and she feels this is the only position she can sleep.

Harry doesn’t mind, and easily ignores the subtle uncomfortableness in his back as he wraps his arms securely around her frame.

Although Y/n is already fast asleep on top of it, he’s unsure how he can close his eyes for longer than a blink. This could be the last chance he has to be with her in this way. He’s unsure what tomorrow holds for the both of them and their relationship—it could end entirely or create an entirely new beginning.

With the possibilities almost endless against their favor, he doesn’t want to miss a second of what could be the last of her in his life. So, he embraces the feeling of her tight hold, the little puddle of drool on the shoulder of his t-shirt, and the tickle on his chin from her loose strands of hair, because this could be the last time he feels all of that.

But he also can’t help but feel that small bit of hope still latching onto him. That somewhere—deep down—he knows they belong to each other for the rest of their lives. And that, maybe, if the universe decides that their relationship should end tomorrow, he knows destiny will find a way for the both of them again.

So, he holds her a little tighter, breathes her in a little harsher, and soaks up all the extra warmth in her body, and prays that everything will be okay.

anonymous asked:

Maybe Dark!Annabeth fighting a child of the big three and she knows that defeating them with physical, raw power isn't possible, so she attacks mentally. She defeats them with words, something Annabeth constantly does throughout the books to her enemies. Making them so angry, distracted, and/or sad that they lose focus and she easily takes the victory.

Annabeth feels him coming before she sees him.

There’s a charge in the air. A gathering static that threatens to strike with every movement she makes, but never quite gets the guts to do so.

That’s Jason Grace for you. Son of Jupiter, chosen of Juno, and just a touch too soft to do what needs to be done. Oh sure, he’ll kill monsters if he needs to, but when the monsters are gods, his solution is to become a priest.

It’s about finding a compromise, he’d said. And making sure that we’re heard.

Annabeth’s finding there are better ways of making noise.

“You got here faster than I expected,” she remarks as he touches down in front of her. She’s perched on the crumbling remnants of a wall that’s thousands of years old. Some small, distant part of her regrets what is about to happen here, but not enough to change course.

“Your pattern’s getting old,” he says. His gladius is out and he holds it warily between them. Annabeth keeps her drakonbone sword at her side. “The others can hold Percy off long enough for me to stop what you’re doing.”

She raises her eyebrows. “You’re the only one coming?”

He tries to hide his grimace, but that’s the danger with fighting your friends. They can read you too well, and a smile curls over Annabeth’s mouth at the confirmation. She hops off the wall, landing lightly on the dirt.

“What made you think I’d be at Pompeii?”

Lightning crackles in the sky overhead, raising the small hairs at the back of her neck. He nods at the scaffolding in the distance, empty of workers this early in the morning. It’s a grim dawn, about to get darker.

“No tourists today. You might’ve turned against the gods, Annabeth, but you’re not a murderer.”

Isn’t she? Annabeth has lost count of the number of monsters she’s put in the ground (under the ground). How many demigods died in the war with Kronos? They bleed red the same as mortals, and her hands are as stained as anyone’s.

So are Jason’s, and irritation pricks at her face. She smooths it away with a cool smile, carefully tracking him as he starts to circle her. She has a certain amount of faith in Jason’s willingness to ‘save’ his friends, but she’s not an idiot.

“So I should start picking locations with people if I don’t want you to interfere, is that what you’re saying?”

“That’s obviously not what I’m saying.” His gaze flickers over the ruins stretching behind her. “So this is all rigged to blow, huh?”

“Leo does good work.”

He winces. He can play on whatever friendship the two of them might have had all he likes, but that betrayal is the real knife in the guts and they both know it. Annabeth coerces her expression into concern, the cogs of her brain turning the right muscles to give it the realism it needs. She takes a half step forward, and Jason doesn’t step away.

“He misses you, you know.” Her voice is a soft thing. Caring. “Misses both of you.”

“If he misses us so bad, he should come and see us.”

“You really think we’re going to be welcome at Camp after all this?

“You haven’t killed anyone.”

The yet sits between us, and it doesn’t matter anyway. The gods would be more likely to forgive her if she had killed someone. They could have murdered thousands of mortals and not been struck down, if they’d just done it far away from the last vestiges of godly power in this world.

Gaea had plotted to bring down Mt Olympus, and that’s definitely on Annabeth’s list. But she’s always been a methodical sort of girl, and divine power runs deep. Best to stamp out all traces of it, one relic at a time.

She sighs. “We don’t plan to. You know that.”

“You’re trying to kill the gods!” Lightning cracks again, closer now. It takes more strength than Annabeth wants to admit to to avoid reaching for her weapon.

“And how many times have they tried to kill us? At best they don’t give a shit, Jason, you know that.”

But he’s shaking his head. They’ve had this fight before, all of them, enough times that she could probably just record it for him to save energy. He’s long since stopped listening to sense, and she doesn’t bother with more than a cursory attempt to convince him.

“You’re too late for this one,” she says. “I’m proud of you for getting here before it blows, but you were right. It’s ready to go.”

His grip shifts on his sword. And - there’s something in his expression that prompts her to brace for an attack, because it’s not defeat. This time, she thinks. This time might be the one where I push too far.

It’s sad, sort of, but relief swamps that soon enough. It’s not that she wants to fight old friends, but it would make everything a lot simpler. To just be able to fight, without caring what happens to them anymore. To draw battlelines instead of blurring them

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he growls. “But even if the rest of your team is ready to destroy this place, they’ll stop once you’re a hostage.”

Annabeth laughs. It’s a miscalculation, but she can’t help herself. “The others might. But hell itself couldn’t keep Percy Jackson from me, Jason, and you’re no Tartarus.”

“I can deal with Percy.”

He can’t. She wonders idly if he knows that. Everyone’s aware of Percy’s power these days, but that’s what he’s like with her at his side. Jason, she suspects, still has a little too much optimism left about what Percy’s self control would be like without her. What it would be like if he even thought she was in danger.

“Right, well, that’ll be your mistake to live with.” She squints up at the sky, trying to judge her next play. Being a hostage would accelerate certain things that she’s not ready to set into motion just yet. Most of all, she doesn’t think that Percy is quite as ready to fight the others as she is.

Not yet.

“You made a miscalculation,” she said finally. “You always want to go for the biggest player, Jason. It’s one of your biggest weaknesses.”

“You can’t talk your way out of this, Annabeth.” His body moves, and she can almost trace the lines in the air, the familiar forms he’s about to slide into. “You’re coming back to Camp wth me.”

He lifts his blade, wreathed in lightning. She smells ozone on the air, the threat of violence wafting in behind it. She clasps her hands behind her back, and lays down her hand.

“Where’s Piper, Jason?”

Everything stops. Nature itself holds its breath as those too-blue eyes widen in sheer panic, before narrowing at her.

“Piper’s your friend. You wouldn’t hurt her.”

Annabeth waits. She doesn’t need to say anything. The silence between them does it for her. The even sound of her breathing. The shroud of absolute confidence holding her shoulders straight.

You are not going to take me, her body says, like it’s all a foregone conclusion.

“She can handle herself,” he tries again, and there’s the edge of desperation that she’s been waiting for. Enough to cloud his thinking. He might not think she’s a murderer, but there are other atrocities. Things she hasn’t held back from in the opening numbers of this new war.

“Against Percy?”

That’s a risk. Because they both know that Percy isn’t steady, isn’t stable, that his relationship with Piper had been tenuous at best and that without Annabeth there, his temper might just get away with him. Piper has her Charmspeak, but there are ways around everything if you have enough power.

It’s a risk, because Jason’s anger could always outweigh his fear. He could always take it out on her rather than fly off for Piper. Annabeth is confident in her ability to take him with a sword, but Jason comes with all those bonus add-ons that children of Athena just aren’t privy to.

So she gives him one last push. Just to make sure.

“Tartarus has so many doors,” she says softly. That same quiet concern from before, turned deadly now. “You know we found all of them, right Jason?”

He spits a curse, something in Latin about the gods and what he hopes they’ll do to her. She watches him leap into the sky, shading her eyes against the rising sun until he’s no more than a dot in the distance.

“You say that like they haven’t already done their worst,” she murmurs, before turning back to the ruins.

There’s work to be done.

First Contact

This is a very hasty opening section to a story I’m going to write about Humans being the weird ones. For the most part, I’m just going to use the concepts I like and leave out the ones I don’t I also refuse to make the aliens talk like fucking morons such as everyone else does. it pisses me off. there is no reason for them to be both polite and also use regular words instead of sounding like they are vomiting a thesaurus. I also used terms like Light Year and Light Minute even though they are subjective terms applicable only to the ear’s solar cycle because it is better than making up terms that have no context but essentially mean the same thing.


Also, I suck at writing so I apologize in advance.


———————————————————————————————————–


It started three hundred million years ago. The Dareth species was spreading across the galaxy. In only a few hundred years, they had completely conquered it, and had devoted their resources to moving beyond to other galaxies. After a few thousand years, they had taken more and more regions, never stopping, declaring all space to belong to them. But finally, in a supreme effort through the combined forces of 538 hundred species, one galaxy worked together to reclaim their systems. After that monumental and unique victory, the other galaxies followed suit and fought to own their systems again. It took nearly 5,000 years, but the efforts of 247 galaxies containing 350 million species drove the Dareth down to a single solar system.  Trillions of lives were lost from all sides, but the megalomaniacal Dareth were nearly destroyed.

Once they had won, the leading species of the revolution held mass executions, reducing the Dareth to a few hundred children, all in their adolescence. Stripping them of all clothes and tools, they were marooned on a hostile planet in a distant galaxy over 50 billion light years away, devoid of life. The planet was carefully chosen, a careful balance of being able to support life, while also being borderline inhospitable. It was filled with dangerous animals, few edible foods, and was plagued with extreme biomes and fluctuating weather.

No one really expected the children to live, but they thought that they would at least offer the chance. Once they were on the planet, deemed “prison 1”, all species immediately broke contact. And after a few hundred years, they also slowly stopped monitoring the Dareth children who miraculously survived. Since they were children, they were mostly uneducated in the ways of production and the manufacturing of advanced technology, so they initially were capable of little more than cave dwelling and hunting with stone weapons. They developed very slowly, and it seemed that no one had to worry about the Dareth again. After several million years, people referred to them mainly as a mythological monster race, no one really believing that the Dareth really ever existed. They faded into obscurity, eventually remembered only in a legend only history fanatics knew of.

Until one day several millions of years later, that is. An expeditionary task force was exploring a barren galaxy, and came across a primitive radio signal. They traced the source to a solar system a few light years away. Upon entry, they must have triggered an ancient outpost; a message appearing on the main screen. The words were incomprehensible, but a translator ran a few algorithms and after several minutes, showed the message in the crew’s native language. Unfortunately, the message was so short that the software could not fully translate the whole message.

W-rn—: You h-ve e-tered – forb-dde- sector. You h-ve f-ve m–utes before –uthor-t-es t-ke –ct-o-. To        -vo-d arrest, e-ther e-ter your p-ss code or le-ve –mmed—tely for your ow- protect-o-.

A count down timer followed the message.  Unfortunately, the software took a few minutes to translate, and by the time it finished, the counter was in the last 30 seconds.

“What language is that?” Admiral Hot’ath asked no one in particular, knowing full well that all known languages (over 2 trillion) were in the ship’s computer and would have identified it within seconds. Typing a search into the fleet’s contact list, he called the head Archivist “I need you to analyze this message.” He ordered, attaching both the original and translated message to a file, sending it to the Archivist. “Tell me if you think it is an ancient language, or a foreign one.” The female only glanced at it before answering.

“Ancient. I can’t read it, but it strongly resembles Standard Intergalactic it is either a more archaic and older form, or a language that coincidentally is similar to our ancient dialect.”

The admiral nodded in understanding. The message was nothing to be concerned over. The solar system was cordoned off so long ago, that everyone had forgotten that it was even there. Thusly, there were no authorities coming to get them, so they had time before deciding whether to leave or not.

“Sir.” The captain of the flagship interrupted. “Even if no one is here, there is a reason this area was blackzoned, and if anyone finds out we were here, legal actions can still be taken against us.”

He nodded knowingly. “Where did this message originate?”

The communication officer answered. “A small outpost on the planet furthest from the system’s star.” The man brought the co-ordinates up on the main bridge screen. The navigation officer quickly followed up with a map of the system, marking where the planet was.

“We can at least go there.” The admiral said firmly. “If nothing else, we can legally go that far and collect data.” The captain nodded, plotting a course on the map and sending it out to the rest of the fleet.

They planned a small expeditionary force to explore the station and gather artifacts and information. What they found astounded them. It turned out that one of the planets in the solar system was an ancient prison of sorts. The records that had survived was enough for a complete translation of the archaic language, but even so, no one knew who these Dareth were, or why they were exiled to such a distant galaxy, barren of life. No one, that is, except the archivists.

The Admiral again called the head archivist, “Proffessor Lart-tch, do you know who the Dareth were?”

Immediately, the blood drained from the archivist’s skin, the grey flesh turning a sickly white. “T-the Dareth?” she affirmed, hoping that she misheard.

The admiral slowly nodded, grimacing. The reaction was enough to let him know that there was in fact a very good reason they were exiled so far away. “I take it they are not good?”

“To put it lightly.” The female answered. “Though the legend is so old, it is probably exaggerated. But we all thought it was just that. A legend. Or more like a horror story.” She added the end with a shudder. Then with a flash of fear, she started. “We came here because we picked up a radio signal.” Her voice was a whisper, cracking with terror. “We need to leave now!”

The admiral was surprised. “Are they really so dangerous? Only a single outpost was here to watch them, and it was peacefully abandoned.”

“This was a race that had conquered over 500 galaxies. Not planets. Not Solar systems. Not Starfields. Galaxies.”

This time, the blood drained from the admiral’s face. The largest empire recorded in history was a single, unified galaxy. Two was unthinkable. But 500? That was terrifying. “You said that the legend is probably exaggerated though.” He tried to assure himself.

The woman nodded, “Yes, but only in the hundreds. There is lots of evidence that at some point in the distant past, some sort of empire had spread across between two and three hundred galaxies. No one is exactly sure how many, but at that scale, even a hundred off is little difference in scale of even the mightiest empire.”

“H-how did we ever defeat such a force?”

The woman merely shrugged. “The legend is vague on that part. But it ends with a few hundred children being left on a hostile planet with nothing to help them survive. They were essentially sent back to the stone age, and were expected to die. But they didn’t. And they will eventually learn how to leave their planet again and return to kill us all.”

The idea was enough to send a cold stab of fear through the Admiral. “We should leave.”

But before he could give any orders, the communication officer called to him from across the bridge. “Sir, we have received a message via the radio waves coming from the planet identified as Prison 1.”

Another cold stab tore through him. “Can we translate it?”

The officer nodded. “it is primitive, but I have made the adjustments to decipher it. It seems that they are repeating the same message over and over.”

“Is there enough to translate?”

“Barely. It is difficult to read, but it boils down to saying, ‘We are here and want to talk.”

The admiral had no clue what to do. If what he was just told was true, then potentially the most dangerous species to ever live was asking making contact with him, the first foreign species they have seen in millions of years.

After several moments, he decided what to do. “Tell them that we are on the edge of a restricted zone and may not come any closer. We also need to leave as soon as possible before we get in trouble.”

He was visibly shaking in fear, and he knew that there would probably be more messages before they were able to leave. There were still units searching the outpost, and it would take around 30 hours before they were recalled, even if they left immediately. They were 327 lightminutes from the Prison Planet, but that still left time for quite a few messages before they were able to leave.

Sooner than expected, another message arrived. “They are asking if they are in the restricted area, and if they will get in trouble as well.”

“N-no. Tell them it does not affect them.” He stammered out. This was getting out of hand. He was neither a military officer, nor a diplomat and this was something that no one in the entire fleet was capable of dealing with.

Again. A reply much sooner than he wanted. “They are asking why the area is restricted.”

This one was surprisingly easy to answer. “Tell them that we don’t know.” He lied

A few hours later, “They want to know what our protocol for First Contact is.”

The answer to that question was drilled into the explorer so hard, that the words came out before he realized that he was speaking. “Observe and learn until they contact us, then send a survey team to the surface to directly learn as much as possible about the new species. Providing any technological knowledge is prohibited until intergalactic diplomats arrive and officially classify the species and permit trade. Ideally, the envoy will make the decision before any contact. In the unavoidable circumstance that contact is made, we are to treat said species as a Class Three.” He finished, then realizing that the Dareth probably didn’t know what planet classes were, he quickly listed, “Class 1: lower intelligent, incapable of societal structure. Class 2: Upper intelligence, incapable of leaving planet. Class 3: Capable of limited space travel. Class 4: Capable of extended space travel under light speed. Class 5: Capable of FTL travel. Class 6: Capable of Intergalactic travel. And the hypothetical Class 7: Capable of instantaneous travel.”

He listed these quickly, momentarily forgetting the insane levels of danger they were in. fortunately, the message came slower than the others. But it still came. “They are asking if contact takes precedence over the blackzone.”

This was the first question that the admiral was completely at a loss for. The majority of blackzones existed because of environmental dangers the others were for military secrecy and they all took up several solar systems. This was by far the smallest blackzone he had ever even heard of and it did not fall under either category.  “T-tell them that….” He started talking, but he couldn’t think of anything. Fortunately, they didn’t wait for a reply. “Sir, they have sent us a file that seems to be a compilation of their history, biology, anatomy, and information of their planet’s wildlife, fauna, geography, and more.”

“A-are you serious?” he blurted out. The officer nodded. They labeled and organized everything for us. There is even information on their technology and mass medical records. They gave us everything.”

“Are there images of them?”

“Yes sir. Also, they call themselves, ‘humans.’”

“Screen.”

A series of pictures flooded the main screen showing hundreds and hundreds of the Dareths. Some were professional, and some were impromptu. They also greatly ranged in age with varying degrees of quality from brown and a little blurry to full spectral and crisp The newest ones even being three dimensional video. They did not look particularly dangerous, though they did have predatory features. They were bipeds with joint articulation and front facing eyes.  It seemed that they had full body skeletons and were mostly hairless, except for their heads and some of their faces. They were also very diverse. Some had pale skin, some were brown, some were yellow tinted, and more.  On top of photographs and videos, the Dareths also included a single diagram of a Human in a circle. It did not take long for the Admiral to understand that it was a mathematical diagram of the Human’s physiology. “Fascinating.” He whispered. But there was one thing above all else that astounded him. The photographs genuinely looked happy. There were pictures of Humans who were angry and sad as well, but for the most part, they all had kind expressions. If they were the Dareths in the legends, then either they had changed, or they were trying to trick him into letting down his guard.

“Sir,” the intelligence officer spoke up. “The planet has an open network database containing the planet’s combined knowledge. We can cross-reference everything they gave us with that system to see if they deliberately left out information or lied.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think that we have enough time for that. I want to leave immediately.” Though he was still scared, he did not feel like the Dareths were of any danger or were lying to them. To the communication officer, he ordered. “Record and transmit as follows: Thank you, humans. You have saved us much time and deliberation. With this, we can go back and deliver the information you provided to our government and they will decide what to do next. We are merely an expeditionary unit and have no authority. You have provided us with an easy answer to deal with such an abnormal situation. We will leave as soon as possible and return to our home system without delay.”

When he finished talking, the captain spoke. “Sir, the expeditionary force has returned.”

“Good, we are leaving immediately!” he blurted out.

While the fleet left, they received one last message, “Good bye. We look forward to your return.”

Once they were safely in FTL, he ordered the “human” file to be distributed to all of the ships. In the months it took to return to their home system, everyone had poured over the files and read as much as they could. And frankly, no one knew whether they should be terrified or relieved. By now, the legend of the Dareths had spread throughout the fleet, and despite the history of war and violence that was in the files, there was just as much goodness in them. They seemed to be a fiercely loyal people, extremely innovative, and often benevolent to a fault. This was the trouble. There was no solid trend to determine their species overall personality. Even in war, they would often be kind to their enemies even while they killed them. But when they made an alliance, it was not easily broken; and when they decided to help someone in need, they did everything in their power to do so.

And none of that was even touching their bizarre physiology. They could handle an incredibly wide variety of biomes and conditions, they could survive and recover from what most species would consider life threatening injuries, they ate anything and everything, even if it had no nutritional value or was even dangerous to them. They often underwent drastic changed to their physiology for completely aesthetic reasons. And their medical methods were nothing short from horrific. They actually cut themselves open and put the organs of their dead inside their own bodies and survived. They cut out their organs, and replaced parts of their bodies as though they were machines.

By the time they reached their home, the crew had split in two as to the opinion whether the information they had was true or not. Some said that it made sense for such a domineering race to be capable of such things, while the others insisted that the information was designed to confuse them and make the humans seem stronger than they were. As far as the admiral, he was certain that the information was true. It was all nonchalant, and so strange that it didn’t seem right that the Dareth’s purposefully made it up.

He dutifully handed it over to his superior and up the chain it went. A few weeks later, he was summoned before the King. He knew immediately why. What he didn’t know was if it was a good or bad thing. The escort gave him no time to prepare. They took him from his office to the planetary palace across the continent. He was searched and taken into the throne room, the King and his wife lounging on a large sofa while other nobles of high office lined the room.

Admiral Hot’ath walked forward and knelt before the King and Queen “My liege.”

The king was a large man, but his weight was deceptive, he was an intelligent and cunning man who only appeared to be a lazy slob. So when the King looked down on him with his beautiful wife leaning against him, Hot’ath felt a stab of fear just as powerful as the one he felt facing the Dareth.

“So you are the man who says that there a monsters on the edge of the universe?” the King’s voice was slow and deep, but his tone did not seem mocking.

“Your highness,”

“I kid of course.” The king interrupted, speaking just as slowly. “I have read through all of the reports made on the subject and looked at the Human’s files personally. I understand why so many believe them to be the Dareth’s in the old story, and to be honest, I agree.” His voice gave nothing away, he spoke in nearly a monotone.

Hot’ath relaxed slightly. “I am sure that you know, but I feel that it bears repeating. My fleet did not enter the BlackZone. We remained on the edge and only got so close to explore the outpost, which is not against the law.”

The large king laughed, his bulbous core jiggling as it heaved. “Again, I agree. You have done nothing worth punishment. I have ordered your presence to ask your personal opinion on the information. Do you think that it is reliable, or a Dareth ruse?

After a moment, the admiral replied, “May I speak freely, my liege?”

“I insist it.”

Hot’ath took a breath, “I think that it is all true, my liege.” The crowd around them broke out in a quiet deliberation at his statement. “It is all far too strange to have been made up.” He continued. “I feel like it is subtle and presented as normal. If they were lying, then the lies would have been emphasized and presented as proud aspects of their race. But they record these traits as nothing special. I am certain they would be genuinely surprised if they were to learn about our own physiology and how we are so much weaker compared to them..

The king nodded. “I feel the same. But this is far too dangerous to act one without facts. Tell me why you think they gave the files to us if not for deception.”

“I think that it was an act of trust. I believe that they did so because I was hesitant to go visit their planet. I had told them that they were in a black zone, so they understood that I was not allowed to spend time and wanted to make things easy for me. Also, I do not believe that this was in my report, but my Intelligence officer had access to a global network of their combined knowledge. It was open to everyone. As far as we could tell in the short amount of time we were there, they only provided information that was on the network, that is to say, none of this is a secret to them, and they have no problem with others knowing.”

“That is new information.” The king muttered. “New Knowledge New Light.” The old saying seemed especially applicable here. “I order you to go back. I give you permission to enter the blackzone and go to their planet. Keep at least one ship on the edge out of their range. Under the slightest hint of suspicion, have it leave immediately and return directly to me so we know that they cannot be trusted.

“W-why me?”

“Do not misunderstand. You will have diplomats go with you and a small military escort. But you seem to have earned your rank and are capable of subtle discernment. You will not be doing anything more than your regular job, just with the added knowledge that everything could be a lie. I merely need you to let us know if that is the case.

14 | You’ll Never Walk Alone

BTS + GOT7 X READER [GANG!AU]

WORD COUNT: 5,428

series warnings: mature themes, strong language, violence, substance abuse, eventual smut. this chapter contains graphic content such as violence, death, grief and injury recovery

Originally posted by jjeonguk

masterlist | ask | prev | coming soon

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

RFA+V+Saeran accidentally hitting MC headcannons? I'm sorry if this triggers you or something but I'm curious how will they react!

( ̄▽ ̄) This got progressively more fun to write~~ It varies from fluff to comedy to slight angst lolol

–R.I.


RFA Accidentally Hits MC

Yoosung

  • He hadn’t meant to, he swears!!
  • He was just so excited about finally achieving a higher level than Seven on LOLOL that he’d carelessly thrown his headphones behind him and you just happened to be there!
  • When he turned around to tell you his good news, he noticed the newly-formed bump on your head.
  • Oblivious, he tilted his head in question. “Oh, how’d you get hurt, MC?”
  • You fired a glare at him, crossing your arms and stomping off, irritated by his carelessness. ‘I’m going to ignore him!’ you decided.
  • You held true to your word.
  • It wasn’t until days later (in which Yoosung spent whining for your attention) when he heard you complaining to Jaehee about what had happened, and how careless he was.
  • Finally learning his mistake, he slid to the floor, grasping at your leg while he stared up at you with tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry!!!” he wailed, feeling the guilt him hard. “I’ll do anything to make it up to youuuu” ;-;
  • Dammit, his puppy face was hard to resist.

Zen

  • He noticed you trying to sneak up on him by looking at your shadow on the floor, and he swiftly turned around so he could tease you that your plan failed but… but…
  • His long ponytail somehow whacked you in the face, leaving a pink mark on your cheek
  • “Owwie.” You rubbed your cheek with a slight frown.
  • He shrieks at the sin he’d just committed. I JUST HIT MY PRINCESS WHATDOIDOOHMYGODIDESERVETODIE
  • He rushed out an apology in a panic, “MC, I’m so sorry, oh my gosh, I’ll never do that agai-”
  • Low whistles came from their surroundings.
  • “Wow, what an awful boyfriend, did he hit her? Her cheek is pink… Poor girl…”
  • “Isn’t that the actor Zen? Didn’t know he was abusive to his girlfriend…”
  • Every comment only made him feel guiltier. He hadn’t meant to hurt you—he would never!
  • He placed his head in his hands, feeling horrible about himself. You noticed that tears were welling up in his eyes.
  • “Hey, it was just an accident… And it was only your hair. It’s okay Zen. I know you’d never hurt me,” you murmured gently, smiling brightly up at him as you brushed aside his bangs.
  • “M-maybe I shouldn’t stand so close to you anymore…” He shook his head, frantically backing away from you, not processing your words at all.
  • Well, you sure had fun explaining why Zen kept running away from you like a little kid at the RFA party. It only got worse when Seven joined in, “ARE WE PLAYING TAG?!? TAG, YOU’RE IT, MC!!!” and running off…

Jaehee

  • As usual, you were helping out at the coffeeshop, scurrying around behind the counter to get to the customers’ orders.
  • And like most days, it was busy.
  • As you were serving a customer at the cash register, Jaehee was rushing to finish someone else’s order, and in her hurry, she bumped into you. Hard.
  • The both of you crashed down, with her knee digging into your abdomen. You felt the wind knocked out of you, and you gasped for air, your eyes rolling to the back of your head from the pain.
  • “MC!” Jaehee shrieked, the guilt hitting her immediately. “MC, are you okay? Can you hear me?”
  • You were in too much pain to even realize she was talking. You closed your eyes as you rolled to your side, trying to tolerate it.
  • “Hey, take my order already!” someone demanded.
  • Jaehee slowly stood up, a fierce glare upon her face as she slammed her fist onto the countertop. “Your order? MC is hurt and all you can think about is your order? You think your order is more important?” she growled, glaring daggers in the inconsiderate customer’s direction.
  • The customer visibly gulped, shuddering from the intensity of Jaehee’s anger. “N-no, ma’am…”
  • Your girlfriend clicked her tongue. In an icy cold tone, she stated, “I’ve never had to ask this of a customer before. Get. Out.”
  • Ignoring the line of customers, Jaehee chose to tend to you first, carrying you princess style (remember this gal can fight) to the staffroom and checking the damage. Upon seeing the bruise, she winced, feeling another wave of guilt overwhelm her. You could see her silently mouthing yet another apology as she stared at it.
  • “It’ll heal. It was only an accident, Jaehee, don’t worry,” you soothed her, smiling gently. Albeit with a frown, she accepted it.
  • …Although, she made you take multiple days off after that, despite your protests.

Jumin

  • He’d just gotten out of a 6 hour long meeting, feeling completely worn out. Nonetheless, it was over, so he could finally return to his office.
  • You’d asked to meet with him for lunch that day, patiently waiting for him to finish up.
  • But he had hardly taken a step into the office, and he received a call from another business partner. He flashed you an apologetic look before taking the call, walking to the far end of the room to talk quietly.
  • You didn’t mind, it was just a little more waiting. The call couldn’t possibly take that long, after all!
  • Or so you thought.
  • But over an hour had passed already, and his lunch break was almost over. Growing impatient, you walked up to your husband, reaching to hug him.
  • Noticing your actions, he swatted his hand dismissively, trying to tell you he was busy. Unfortunately, he was distracted, and he ended up smacking your face.
  • The moment his hand made contact with your face, his expression froze. In a split second, Jumin hung up on his call, setting aside his phone and rushing to your aid.
  • But you pushed him away.
  • He winced at the hurt expression on your face. You weren’t upset because he’d hit you, but that he had tried to dismiss you as if you were just another employee to him—as if you weren’t important. But you couldn’t say that out loud to him. Just because he had hurt your feelings, it didn’t mean you had to do the same to him.
  • You lowered your eyes, avoiding his worried gaze, and quietly walked out of his office. Jumin sank into his chair in despair, feeling awful about what he’d done. He knew how it felt to be cast aside for work. And he hated that you had to go through the same experience.
  • After finishing work that night, he returned home, still feeling ashamed of himself. You’d already turned off all the lights as if to say you weren’t waiting for him tonight. He hesitantly opened the door to your shared bedroom, where you were reading a book in bed.
  • Jumin held up a bouquet of purple hyacinths, nervously forcing a smile on his face. “I-I’m sorry about earlier today, MC…” he said quietly.
  • “You think flowers will make me forgive you?” you sighed, a frown tugging at your lips. “While I appreciate the sentiment, the flowers won’t win me over. I understand that you may have been stressed from work, but that doesn’t make me any less upset about it. Well, you should get some rest.”
  • He looked away, then suddenly grabbed your hand. “I… Will you let me explain myself, at least?”
  • Albeit surprised, you nodded calmly.
  • “The reason I’ve been working so hard lately… even today… it’s because I wanted to clear my schedule to spend time with you. I know you’ve been very patient with me all this time, and I’m really grateful for that. I just… kind of missed passing time with you, so I was planning to finish up next week’s work and then properly ask you out on a date… But I guess it really took a toll on me.” He sighed again. “I’m sorry.”
  • You wrapped your arms around him, a soft smile upon your face. “Then, make it up to me by staying with me all next week, okay?”
  • Although you wouldn’t see it, Jumin had an adorable grin on his face. ‘I love you so much.’

Seven

  • “BWAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!”
  • If you were wondering why Saeyoung was laughing at 6AM in the morning, it’s because he woke up to your face.
  • Now, he wakes up with you everyday, but it was the first time that you awoke with a nosebleed. He grinned cheekily, “I didn’t know I was that hot, babe.”
  • …to which, earned him a smack in the head.
  • “This is your fault, you idiot,” you grumbled, carefully getting out of bed.
  • He cocked his head in confusion, “Wait, really?”
  • “You whacked me with your arm. Again.”
  • Although he felt guilty for hurting you, he covered it up with another grin. “Just admit that you were nosebleeding because I’m hot, MC~”
  • Despite his words, he still led you to the bathroom and helped you clean up the blood. He took it upon himself to wash the blankets and bedsheets which had gained bloodstains, and even made breakfast for you that morning.
  • And it’d be over breakfast that he quietly apologized to you.
  • “Hey, uhm… I know I was kidding around earlier, but I’m really sorry about hitting you, MC…” he mumbled, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. He wasn’t used to being so sincere, but he knew he should apologize.
  • You merely flicked his forehead. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean to. Besides, I’ve kicked you off the bed multiple times because you were taking up too much space.”
  • His head snapped up immediately, narrowing his eyes at you accusingly. “Wait what?! But you always told me that I rolled off by myself!!”
  •  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Saeran

  • “Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorry”
  • He was chanting it over and over, his head on his knees, his entire body trembling. You tried to approach him, but he only flinched, backing away.
  • “N-no, stay away. I hurt you, oh my god, I hurt you,” he whispered, pain dripping in his voice. His eyes were wide with horror, and your heart clenched at the sight. He was scared. Scared of himself.
  • Now, what had caused this?
  • You’d sprung onto Saeran, declaring a pillow war, and the two of you had been smacking each other with your pillows, trying to get the upper hand over each other. But then he’d tripped over his own feet while he was swinging his pillow at you, and ended up smashing his elbow into you, knocking you to the ground.
  • You’d only scraped your knee from the fall, and it only bled a little, but the injury was enough to make Saeran freak out.
  • “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” you said in a gentle tone, trying to coax him. “You would never hurt me.”
  • “I d-d-don’t want to hurt a-a-anyone,” he stammered, still shuddering. “P-p-please believe me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, imsorryimsorryimsorryi-”
  • You took ahold of his trembling hands, kissing the fingertips. “I love you, Saeran. It was an accident. You didn’t have any other intentions. It’s okay. I’m okay. Look, it’s just a scratch.”
  • It took a few more moments to calm him down, but he eventually came to terms that it was only an accident, and that it wasn’t his fault. Still, though the incident was small and harmless, the fear that he could become abusive, just like his mother, began to haunt him since that day.

V

  • ‘Bzzzz…’
  • Jihyun frowned, turning his head to find the source of that annoying sound. Although he had recovered from his blindness, (thanks to Jumin finding the best doctors and funding the surgery), his ears were still sensitive to distant sounds.
  • Bzzzz…’ He walked out of the kitchen, noticing that the buzzing sound became louder. It must be closer now…
  • ‘BZZZ!!’ His eyes caught the culprit: a mosquito was flying around the house! He tried to slap the mosquito with both hands, failing miserably as it diligently flew away. Oh, it’s on, Mosquito.
  • Jihyun began running like a madman around the house, swatting at the pest and missing every time. And then, it chose to stay still. SLAP!
  • “Eeep!” you squealed, feeling a harsh impact on your butt. “W-what was that for, Jihyun?!”
  • He glanced up at you in surprise, taking in your pouting face.
  • “Ahh!! I’m so sorry, MC! I was so focused on killing the mosquito, I didn’t realize. I’m so sorry…” He was rambling in his apology, sounding almost panicked
  • You smirked, then grabbed him by the collar. “Hey. I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy it, now, did I?” you whispered huskily into his ear. You watched as Jihyun’s ears turned pink from embarrassment.
  • (Meanwhile, Seven was listening from the monitor. He whistled lowly upon hearing your words. “Damn. Kinky,” he muttered. Too bad Jihyun had broken his bug, or else he would’ve loved to see what happened next.)
A thieving roommate and a "haunted" Xbox.

Warning:Long, but totally worth it!

During freshman year of college I roomed with my cousin and our friend Dan. The three of us happened to be quite the marijuana enthusiasts and enjoyed smoking…a lot. As great a luxury cannabis is, it wasn’t cheap, especially to three college kids. So naturally, when we wanted to smoke together we’d all chip in an equal sized nug so no one ended up getting short-changed and to obviously save a little cash here and there. As time went on, Dan began to run out of money due to his constant smoking. No money=no weed. So what went from rolling a spliffs everyday suddenly became smashing bowls and scraping resin off the shards of glass and mixing it with tobacco to get high. In our very small and cramped room, I had a mason jar filled with a baggie of my weed hidden in a spot that NO ONE (I thought) knew about. After class one day, I wanted to sit back and enjoy a smoke when I pulled my stash out of the hiding spot to find that the weed was missing. Instantly, I knew Dan did the dirty deed. My cousin wasn’t struggling too bad financially at the time so it couldn’t have been him. But before I pointed any fingers, I decided to wait it out and be 100% positive.

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anonymous asked:

hey there! thanks for answering all our questions on this blog + how possible would it for someone to crack ribs with a solid kick? there's a character i have in mind that's escaping captivity, but they're also young, so i'm not quite sure how easily they'd be able to hurt the (adult) antagonist in such a manner, especially lacking any fighting experience to begin with?

Well, you can break someone’s ribs with a kick. That’s the entire purpose of the roundhouse, especially the version where you strike with the ball of the foot rather than the top of the foot. (And… aren’t like me when I was seven or eight, when I was new to sparring and totally stubbed my toe in another kid’s side at a tournament after my brain/body got confused between the two. I didn’t break my toe, but I could’ve.)

That story above is important, by the way. If you’ve got a character who doesn’t know how to fight then they’re not even going to get that far. If you don’t know how to kick then that’s a great way to get your leg caught by someone who knows what they’re doing. They catch the foot by the ankle, and then drag you wherever they want. That’s assuming the character can get their leg up and out without falling over. Even if they do manage that, say because they’ve watched a lot of martial arts flicks, they won’t know how to generate power and will be very slow. A, B, and C occur anyway. Your protagonist is going to end up back wherever they were being kept, this time in a much less comfortable position.

Even for an experienced martial artist, kicks require fairly constant bodily upkeep in order to be able to do them cold (much less perform them at all). That’s not a combat scenario, that’s just in general. You’ve got a great chance of pulling all the leg muscles you need to get away, including ones you didn’t realize you had and that’s if you don’t break your toes. Board breaks with the roundhouse kick are the most terrifying of them all because you’ve got to remember to curl your toes just right in order to carry your foot through the board.

Kicks are off the table.

More importantly, this is an exact rendition of the “Feel Good Violence” trope: My Instincts Performed A Wheel Kick.

The protagonist is suddenly and randomly enough good at fighting to not only fight, but win when making their first attempt at a violent altercation. They use techniques which require a fairly high level of dedication and aptitude out of “natural ability” and “instinct”.

Unless you’ve got an ironclad reason for invoking the trope (past lives/ immortality/memory loss/the matrix) it will undercut your narrative credibility in ways the story cannot recover from.

When you’ve cracked your foundation, you’re done.

“The only difference between reality and fiction is that fiction needs to be credible,” - Mark Twain

Narrative integrity is based on the rules or limitations we’ve set for ourselves, those limitations are the ironclad rules by which the narrative functions. They exist on two levels: in behavior and actions of characters within the world, and on a secondary level the setting’s behavior around them. Everything in your story must be working to uphold the fiction. When it doesn’t the audience’s “suspension of disbelief” starts to crack. You are beholden to the rules and limitations set down by your setting. Without them, you have no story.

When you’re setting out to create a character, there are four questions you should ask yourself:

1) What can the character do?

2) What can’t the character do?

3) What is the character willing to do but can’t?

4) What can the character do, but is unwilling to?

Within these four circles you have your character, their ethics/morals, and their limitations. That is the box you’ve created for yourself. It is important to own it and abide by it. When dealing with a protagonist, those limitations are not just the foundations of a character but the entire narrative.

Your character cannot fight your antagonist in a one on one and come away with any victory because you have established they don’t know how to. That is a limitation you set for yourself. That the audience knows and understands, so they will expect this character to act in accordance with it. They may want to walk up to the antagonist and kick them in the ribs so hard those ribs break, but they can’t. That desire could be a driving force behind them learning to fight later. As of now, though, their powerlessness in active violent conflict serves to reinforce the antagonist’s position. Reinforcing the antagonist’s position is for the narrative good.

They should be making choices based on the Venn diagram’s center: when what they can do meets what they are willing to do.

If what they can’t do conflicts with what they’re willing to do and they go with it anyway then the result is a failed escape attempt. A captive’s survival is based on their value. If they’re valuable enough for the antagonist to go through the trouble of capturing them in the first place, then they’re probably not going to be killed. At least, not until their value runs through. They lose and wind up back in captivity under more scrutiny, more security, and with fewer exit options. This reminds us why they were captured in the first place, and reinforces our villain’s position.

A protagonist can fail and retain their legitimacy many more times than an antagonist can. While this is a perfectly legitimate narrative outcome, I don’t think its the one you’re looking for.

This is the second issue with your question:

A narrative’s antagonist is its backbone.

Your antagonist is one of the most important pieces of your story, if not the most. They are the lingering threat, the shadow hovering over the story, and the knife at your protagonist’s throat. They are seventy percent threat, and the last thirty relies on their ability to make good on it.

One of the biggest mistakes an author can make is assuming their antagonist’s position in their narrative and the threat they provide are impervious to harm.

Unlike your protagonist, your antagonist is always in a precarious position. They must constantly re-affirm themselves and the threat they represent through their actions. That threat is all consuming and when challenged, it must either be defeated or confirmed.

If defeated, then the threat is gone.

If confirmed, then the threat level is heightened because now we imagine what they might do next.

An antagonist can re-affirm themselves after a defeat, but they’ve got to double down on their effort and create a new threat rather than relying on their old one. You as the author must work harder to make up for what you lost, and even then you’ll never have the initial fear ever again.

The first rule of the antagonist is: your capital is limited, so spend it wisely.

When you undercut an antagonist in favor of the protagonist before its necessary, you damage the antagonist’s credibility and, subsequently, their position in the story. When you lose your antagonist, you lose most of your narrative tension.

A character who doesn’t know how to do something is applying a limitation to the character. You are applying a restriction to what they can and can’t do. If you’re character doesn’t know how to fight, then fighting will be off the table. More importantly, having your character succeed at a skill set they have no experience in doesn’t make them “awesome” or “cool”, it means instead that the other characters who put time and effort into honing these skills suck.

When those characters are your antagonists… that hurts.

If you’ve got a protagonist with no hacking experience who manages to overcome a supposedly great hacker on their first or second go round with no time spent learning how to hack, then who looks bad? The second hacker. They’re the ones who are supposed to be good at hacking. If the narrative hinges on them being a major antagonist, then the author just shot their narrative in the foot.

Combat skills are the same way. They’re a skill set, not an instinct. They don’t come naturally, and take a great deal of time and effort to hone.

If your goal is to show your dangerous antagonist is a bumbling moron when an untrained teenager gets a lucky shot so miraculous they manage to lay them up for the rest of the story, then that’s a job well done.

If your goal is for the antagonist to maintain their credibility within the narrative? Don’t use them for a punching bag.

Violent confrontation is based just as much on threat of force as it is on the follow through. The threat is usually more frightening than what follows, and your protagonist is already challenging the fear by trying to escape. From a narrative perspective, if they get over their fear enough to challenge their antagonist directly then it’s game over. You spent your all capital either at the beginning or midway through the story, and you’re not getting it back.

Remember, your antagonist has to do just as much work to earn their street cred as your protagonist. Their position is a delicate balance of power management and threat of force. They rely on show over tell. They need to live up to whatever it is you’ve been saying about them. They need to be as dangerous as they’ve been puffed up to be, unless their reputation itself is the real antagonist. Never forget, your antagonist (whoever they are/whatever it is) is the backbone of your story. They are often the driving force of action, the reason why the protagonist is struggling, and the focal point. In some ways, they are more important than your protagonist because without them the protagonist’s got a whole lot of nothing.

When you undercut your antagonist, you also hurt your protagonist’s development. You cheat them of their chance for growth, and deny them their ability to show off whatever it is that they’re actually good at i.e. using their bravery, intelligence, and cleverness to sneak out.

If your protagonist beats down their Goliath at the beginning of (or even the middle) of the story then there’s no reason for them to go to the mountain master and learn to throw rocks.

-Michi

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New toy II pt.1

Jungkook x reader

genre: smut, fluff, sub!jungkook

word count: 8.5k


Your new neighbour turns out to be the perfect toy for you.

Originally posted by nochuie

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The Train

Pairing: Y/N and Harry

Word Count: 4201

Prompt: Y/N walks in, and Harry notices she’s wearing yellow again, this time it’s a yellow sweater with a pair of dark skinny jeans and brown ankle boots, her hair is pulled back into a pony tail with a white scrunchie with little smiling suns and he swears that he has to squint to look at her. “Oh! I know you-you’re the guy from the train,” Y/N beams, “Harry, right?” she sets down the tray of muffins.

 “I didn’t tell you my name,” Harry snaps.

 Y/N pouts, “well yeah, but I’m also not stupid,” she says. 

“Are you joining us today Harry?” the man asked, “I’m Seth, I run the group.”

“Why else would I fucking be here,” Harry grumbled.

 Y/N grabs a muffin, ignoring Harry’s sour attitude, “here, they’re made with love,” she smiled, holding out the blueberry muffin.

 “Fuck off,” Harry says. He watches as her smile fades and the glint in her eyes seems to disappear, for a split second Harry feels like a dick, but then he realizes he doesn’t care and Y/N should just shove the muffin up her ass.


Harry was annoyed.

It really hadn’t been his day at all. His morning was terrible, he woke up next to a blonde and he tried really hard to remember her name-only to fail. When he asked her to leave she insisted on making breakfast, to which Harry responded with “feel free to grab something and leave” and then he proceeded to shower. When he got out, the unknown girl stood in his kitchen making herself a smoothie and toast. Her red lips in a pout, “come on, you can’t be in that big of a rush,” Harry ended up calling security, she was crazy.

When he went into the studio he was blank, the songs he did come in with were rejected and he couldn’t find the energy or muse to write another one. He was out of inspiration, nothing amused Harry anymore. He found himself not enjoying the things he used to love, drinks seemed to be the only thing that made him feel something (and it was only for a little bit). He didn’t enjoy being surrounded by his friends and family, his love for writing was slipping through the cracks, and his energy was fading.

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Break a Little - Part One

Summary: You’re an Alpha Female, and that means your entire life you’ve been an outcast, an abomination. It’s been so long you don’t remember what it is like not to feel raw, angry and hurt. You’re aggressive, a little wild, and don’t play well with others. So when your only friend’s brother Dean calls and says Sam is missing, you are hesitant to work with him. After all, you have always been alone.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Characters: Alpha!Reader, Beta!Sam, ??!Dean

Pairings: Alpha!Reader x ??!Dean

Word Count: 1700

Warnings: language, fighting, self hate, a/b/o dynamics, no smut yet but there will be some eventually ;)

A/N: This is my first A/B/O fic and I would like it to be a small series. 

You sit at the bar, consumed in your own little world. The whiskey you sip on is just fuel, fuel for how much you hate everything, hate what you are, who you are, how you hate the world around you.

It’s after a hunt, and just like every single damn time the violence has you on edge, running on adrenaline and nothing can fix it, nothing ever will. But the hunts themselves are good for you, they help focus that rage that is always there.

“Hey gorgeous,” some asshole sits beside you, and you wind him first, a fucking alpha.

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Carousel | 06

Playlist | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07

Character: Min Yoongi x reader (oc)

Genre/words: Arranged Marriage! AU, Angst / 9,118 words

Summary: He is the successor of his family’s business empire, and you are the female heir of yours. After the trouble his older brother had created in the past, he now must face certain requirements needed for the sake of the family’s future and to save his rights of inheritance, and you become his only way out. Everything might seem so simple, just the way they are supposed to. But everything isn’t always what it seems, is it?

Warning: Mentions of death, death scenes, graphic scene of violence

a/n: This chapter will show more backstories. And unlike the previous ones where I add the backstory at the front as an opening, the scenes will go back and forth as a filler. Flashback scenes will be written in italics^^


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