#don’t ask why the 4th one is ethereal

[nikethestatue]

The Little Black Dress That Could

May the 4th Be with all of us! Today is my favorite holiday. 4th of July, Independence Day.

This is also for Caroline, whose birthday was yesterday. Happy birthday girl! You don't have to keep drinking virgin pina coladas anymore.

What happened during Winter Solstice at Hewn City between Elain and Azriel? What did he think of her ugly black dress? Read on and find out.

“By the Cauldron,” Nesta exhaled obnoxiously loudly. “It’s ugly.”

Elain made a face. 

It was ugly.

“Fucking ugly,” Nesta added.

Fu-gly.

That’s what the dress was.

It was a fugly dress.

With that, Nesta left. 

Well, good riddance.

It was fine.

She was fine.

Everything was fine.

Her sister hated her.

Elain had to wear this revoltingly ugly dress to a ball. Her first ball since she became Fae.

She had to stand there, in her ugly dress, allowing everyone else to shine…which would be fine. Normally, Elain Archeron wasn’t envious or petty. But she had to be dressed in this frumpy frock, knowing that he would be there. He would be resplendent  in his elegant leathers, his siphons shining with their ethereal light, his handsome face perfect and grave. Ugh. He would be perfect. He always was. He could wear a potato sack, and still look like a Prince.

Rhysand tried to be like Azriel, but failed. No one could be like Azriel, the mysterious and deadly Shadowsinger. The quiet authority that he always conveyed. The darkness. The secretive nature of,

“Hey Elain!” 

Cassian’s voice boomed behind her and startled out of her thoughts, she blurted out,

“I am not sleeping with Azriel!”

Cassian looked at her like she was drunk and yet, said calmly,

“I mean, no one would blame you for wanting to sleep with Azriel,”

“What?” she choked. 

“What? He is handsome and stately, muscular, but compact, built like a,”

“I am not sleeping with Azriel,” she noted dryly, “but I am not sure about you.”

“What?” he glared at her.

She folded her arms on her chest. 

“I am not! I haven’t,” he began muttering defensively. “We haven’t…I mean, there was that time when,”

“WHAT?!” she cried out.

“Nothing. Nothing.”

There was an awkward, strange silence and they just stared at one another. 

“Why are you here?” she demanded at last.

“You seen Nes?”

“Maybe.”

“You gonna be all mad because I might have, like 300 years ago, kiss-”

“I don’t. Want. To. Know.” she snarled at him, pressing her hands to her ears.

 He stepped back in fright and hissed through his teeth,

“Oh Mother…these Arecheron girls are rabid.”

“Oh rabid are we?” she yelled at him, and he actually took a step back, trying to avoid a physical altercation with the flower girl. Somehow, he feared her more than anyone–perhaps not physically, but somehow, he knew that he’d be torn to pieces by both Nesta, and probably Aziel. He wasn’t sure about Azriel, but there was…something. Some feelings that Cassian couldn't discern, but felt in his gut. Anyway, he wasn’t going to fight with Elain. Thought he couldn’t help himself and asked,

“You’re wearing this?” He raised his brow, glancing at the dress that hung on the hanger.

Elain sighed and said gloomily, “yes, I am wearing this dress.”

He whistled and murmured, “Mother’s tits…”

“Not helping, Cassian. Not helping.”

“Well, alright then. I guess I’ll see you at the Court of Nightmares. You know…” he paused, and then added softly, taking her hand in his giant bear paws, “you don’t have to go…”

Her expression softened and she murmured, 

“I want to go, Cassian. I want to do my part.”

Cassian and Elain were milling about the foyer of the River Estate in awkward semi-silence. Both were waiting to be winnowed to Hewn City. Azriel was already there, and Mor was going to pick the two of them up. Nesta would travel with Feyre and Rhys.

“Are you excited to stand at Azriel’s side?” Cassian asked, trying to sound casual.

“Pardon?” Elain whirled to him, eyes wide.

“You know…By the throne? Nesta will be next to me, and you’ll be next to Az,”

“Why should I be excited about that?” she demanded, but her cheeks were awfully red for her to be simply angry.

Cassian smirked.

He was definitely picking on some vibes. He wasn’t going to be fooled.

And he was pretty sure that he was the only one to be catching these vibes between his brother and Elain. Yeah. He was always the first one to notice things, especially between couples. He was observant like that.

“I don’t know…I think Nesta is excited to stand next to me,” he shrugged.

Elain’s chin rose and she declared,

“Why shouldn’t he be excited to stand next to me?”

Pacifically, Cassian immediately assured her, “I am sure he is very excited.”

Hewn City was outfitted beautifully for the three day-long celebrations of the Winter Solstice. There were black candelabras, wreaths of holly, silver and gold ribbons wrapped around the obsidian columns, the floors were polished so brightly, they reflected all the attendees and the lights. Enormous arrangements of pine branches bedecked in faelights, white roses and night blooming jasmine were placed all around the ballroom in crystal vases.

Azriel, Shadowsinger of High Lord Rhysand’s Night Court felt quite at home here. He didn’t like it–or rather, he didn’t like the present Steward of Hewn City–but he’d spent enough time in these ancient, hallowed halls to have grown accustomed to the place. It needed some sprucing up and something cheerful around here, but overall, he didn’t mind it. It was always especially beautiful around Solstice. 

It was especially beautiful right now, because Elain Archeron stepped into the ballroom. 

Oh yes, he’d noticed them all–Morrigan in her usual red dress, Cassian, standing right across him, brooding and tense, awaiting Nesta’s arrival. When the darkness of Rhysand’s power poured out of the massive doors, which opened silently to reveal the High Lord and the High Lady, and their heir inside of her. There was an audible gasp when the attendees beheld Feyre’s pregnant belly, but Azriel was used to that as well. Nothing surprised him much anymore, other than…

Elain Archeron.

She looked like a goddess.

She looked like the Mother.

Her long golden brown hair was unbound, streaming like a bronze halo around her, pinned with two pearl combs. And her dress…Was the most beautiful dress he’d ever seen. It fit her perfectly. It was simple and stunning.

Nesta was wearing something overly elaborate–tuile, and sequence, and gems and silver, and while it all looked very nice and all, his girl looked sublime. She didn’t need any extra ornamentation.

Well, maybe just the gift that he was planning to give her on Solstice night. The delicate necklace that he had designed and commissioned especially for her. It would look perfect in the little divot between her lovely slender collar bones. 

It was Nesta’s night to shine, but Elain looked like a queen. His Lady. Though to him, she was always simply his girl. His Elain.

The two sisters stood by the dias of the two thrones, Nesta next to Cassian, and Elain next to Azriel. He couldn’t offer her a wink or a smile, not in front of all these people, but she stood close enough, for him to gently, covertly rub his pinkie against the side of her palm. She didn’t flinch and didn’t react, but a tiny sweet smile touched her full lips. His girl liked it when he touched her–when they exchanged glances, and brief brushes of fingers. When he skimmed his fingers over hers at breakfast, when she offered him his mug of tea. Or when he could place his palm on the small of her back for a few moments when he followed her into the room, or out of the house. Or even better, when she adjusted the lapels of his jacket, and stroked his chest. No. She never minded when he touched her. 

Now he wished that he could place her small hand on his forearm so they could walk together–without hiding, without fears or accusations. It was impossible, but Azriel held onto hope. He had nothing else. Just hope, and his dreams of walking arm in arm with his girl, with Elain, who’d be his wife. He didn’t care about the bond at all–not hers, or a hypothetical one for the two of them. Did he wonder why the other two brothers received mate bonds with the two sisters, and she was given away like a sacrifice to Lucien Vanserra? Every day. But it was also pointless to ponder the ways of the Cauldron. He didn’t need a bond with Elain in order to love her. He liked her and loved her just because she was Elain–he loved her face, he adored her wit and her sense of humour, he admired her resilience, he enjoyed her mind and her intelligence. They fit each other like a pair of gloves–easily. What felt torturous with Morrigan for the past 500 years, felt absolutely natural with Elain. She took what he offered, and didn’t pressure him for more, and he gave bits of himself willingly and gladly.

One day, sweetheart. One day. You and I. 

Rhys was gifting Eris a Made dagger, and everyone began dancing as the first notes of the waltz filled the vast space.

Elain stepped closer to him, and he lightly ran his knuckle over her spine. Her back was bare, the dress held together by thick ribbons, but it offered enough of her silky skin for him to observe that he was forced to bite the inside of his cheek just to hold back a groan. 

“Do you want me to Make you a dagger too?” she whispered, without looking at him, pretending to be interested in the gift exchange. 

“I already have one,” he murmured with a smile, his lips brushing the back of her head, inhaling the scent of jasmine.

“Hmmm…would you like me to Make you anything?”

Yes, I would like for you to make me your husband. 

“Make me dinner, and I will be a happy male,” he decided.

“Then I will,” she promised simply.

Eris’s muddy eyes landed on Elain and she grunted through clenched teeth,

“Time for me to shine!”

“I can kill him for you, if you’d like,” Azriel offered calmly.

“Tempting, but you never know how others might look at the murder of the Heir to Autumn by the shadowsinger.”

Smart girl.

He stepped away, allowing another Vanserra’s eyes to skate over his woman. 

It was intolerable.

But Elain made a good impression of pretending to be mildly interested in Eris. 

And Eris, vain and predictable, was visibly disappointed by the modesty of Elain’s gown, by her demure appearance.

Azriel could only smile to himself. 

Thank the Cauldron for the prideful son of Autumn, who did not see the diamond in front of his eyes.

No matter.

Yes, Azriel wanted everyone to admire Elain like he did, but he also wanted to keep her for himself–his secret, a thing of lovely beauty. 

Eris offered Elain a bland smile, and then made a beeline towards Nesta.

His loss. Azriel’s gain.

Elain’s smile was finally genuine, and shining in his direction.

The guests were oohing and ahhing over Nesta and Eris in the dancefloor, and Azriel moved back to stand beside his beautiful girl, while they watched the other couple twirl and spin across the floor. They looked incredible–there was no doubt that in another life, in another world, Nesta and Eris would’ve made an excellent match. 

But that thought quickly evaporated, when Azriel sensed the rage, disappointment and unhappiness of his brother, who was almost gnashing his teeth in frustration. 

Elain wordlessly took Cassian’s hand and squeezed it affectionately.

“Cass, don’t cut in,” Azriel warned him.

Elain looked at the General with sympathy in her warm brown eyes and whispered,

“It’s not real, Cassian. They are not real.”

“But,” he began, and she cut him off,

“She is the one for you, Cassian. You know it. She is your girl.”

Azriel quickly looked at his own girl, and wondered how the Hel did she know? How did she always know?

“Give her the opportunity to complete all her spins,” Elain chuckled, “and then you can cut it.”

“Would you like to dance, Elain Archeron?” 

Azriel had danced with Nesta, after Cassian swept her away from Eris and completed his own circle on the dancefloor. Cassian was not as good of a dancer as Eris, but he and Nesta looked…right. They looked like they belonged. And maybe he was stiff, and didn’t move with a courtier’s grace, but Cassian danced because he knew that tonight, Nesta needed him. She needed him, and his strength, and his support, and she needed to be in his arms almost as much as Cassian needed to take her into his own. 

“She really is his girl,” Elain smiled softly, watching the two glide among the guests.

She turned and looked up at Azriel.

“And yes, I would love to dance with you.”

“Well then give me your little hand,” he ordered, smiling, as he extended his palm to her. She lay her fingers against his and he sighed with pleasure, as he wrapped his arm around her body, pulling him to him. Her head rested on his shoulder. 

One day.

Soon.

Wife.

Not a bad Solstice celebration after all.

[cecilxa]

fifth time’s the charm

summary: xiao really likes looking at you. 

contents: fluff, ambiguous relationship between you and xiao, gn!reader, in-love xiao

cw: kissing (barely any though)

recommend listening to: nothing by bruno major

The 1st time he realises he’s staring is when you’re watching a movie together. Huddled under separate blankets, yet still close, you’re intently watching the flickering screen. Xiao is watching something else. He’s watching how your eyes slowly widen at the plot twist; he’s watching how they tear up when something tragic happens; he’s watching how they sparkle in joy when the two main characters finally kiss. He doesn’t care about the movie, so why does he care about the crystalline tear that slides down your cheek? He’s getting fed up with the characters so quickly, so why does he want to keep watching it with you? He doesn’t think you’ll notice if he continues staring. You’re so enraptured with the movie, that you don’t notice the enraptured look being presented to you.

The 2nd time he realises he’s staring is when you’re talking with your friends. You’re talking animatedly and cheerfully about something he could care less about. Xiao doesn’t know why he’d pick up anything just to impress you. He remembers you mentioning that you found people who read ‘really cool’, and over the next week, dedicated his free time to memorising Jane Austen quotes. Pride and Prejudice be damned, you’re the one he admires; you’re the one he loves; you’re the one he’d do anything for. Ask him for a bottle of water, and he’d supply the whole ocean. Ask him for a jumper because you’re cold, and he’d give you his entire wardrobe. He doesn’t mind. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you.

The 3rd time he realises he’s staring is when you’re sleeping. No, he’s not creepy; he’s just whipped. Absolutely and undoubtedly whipped for you. It’s the dead of night, and he can hear your shallow breathing interrupting the otherwise quiet atmosphere. Your hair tousled and messy might be his favourite look so far. You say that it’s ugly, but he thinks the complete opposite. It shows him you trust him, trust him so much that he thinks his heart might explode with adoration. In the dead of night, he can truly lie there and admire the wonder in front of him. Your cute nose, your fluttering eyes, your hand holding his, even when asleep. Xiao loves you so much in your sleep that he doesn’t know how he manages when you’re awake.

The 4th time he realises he’s staring is when he’s hugging you, cuddling under the night sky. The North Star, the Big Dipper, and Orion are what you point out to him, your smile as bright as the stars that you’re looking at. No, brighter, Xiao thinks. The stars exist in the sky, as a beacon of hope for the lost people of the world. They are gone when morning comes, when the lost people of the world can guide themselves through. Your smile is the sky itself. No matter the time of day, no matter the weather, your smile is the thing that holds up the sparkling stars, the mesmerising moon, and the shining sun. Ever-present, ever-loving and ever-lasting. Xiao thinks that he will continue looking up if it’s your smile that leads him back to you.

The 5th time he realises he’s staring is when you’re staring back. Your eyes search his, your hands grasp his, your lips capture his. You taste of his favourite paintings, of his favourite colours and his favourite clothes. You taste of everything and nothing at the same time. He swears that fireworks are exploding in an empty room cluttered with objects and mess. His body is pressed against yours, and he feels everything and nothing all at once. He knows how you feel perfect with him, like two complete jigsaw pieces, like a happy ending in those dumb rom-coms you watch. His mind empty, his body euphoric, somehow, Xiao doesn’t believe that you’re here. But you are here, and he stares. He can’t help it; you’re so ethereal. He’ll forever keep staring until your heart and his heart lie together, feeling everything and nothing all at once.

[horanghater]

Nth Time’s a Charm

Summary: How many trips to the store does it take to decorate a tree? ▸ Pairing: Jimin x F!reader ▸ Rating / Genre / AU: PG-13 / fluff, humor ▸ Warnings: N/A ▸ Word Count: 1.3k ▸ A/N: This gift was created through @bangtansecretsanta​ and is for fellow Wings era enthusiast @jiminzfilter. Surprise~~!! I hope you enjoy, lovely! Thank you to Cherry for beta’ing and banner-ing! 

↔↔↔↔↔↔↔↔↔↔

In this world, there is nothing that brings you more displeasure than being outside in the cold. Yet here you are, trudging to the seasonal decor shop in 5 layers of clothing so heavy that it feels like you’re dragging yourself along in a suit of armor. Your mind is begging you to end this mission, but your heart has other ideas. It’s the day before Christmas Eve – you have to try just one more time.

You have to stop when you finally do arrive at your destination to catch your breath. Why were you breathing so hard? Get it together and don’t embarrass yourself this time! You close your eyes, inhale shakily, and release. As your breath steams away from you, you will your nerves to do the same. A gust of heated air warms your face as you step through the automated sliding doors of the shop. When the entry bell dings, a store greeter hands you a shopping basket on queue and gives you their best customer service smile. “Oh! Nice to see you again. Welcome back!” It takes everything in you to ignore the mortification spreading across your cheeks and provide a salutation of your own before scurrying down the aisles to the ornament section, a path you know all too well. This is the 4th time you’ve visited the shop this week and somewhere around the 20th time in the last month and a half since the storefront opened for the season. The same thing happens every time: you peruse the ornaments for a conspicuously long time, have an awkward chat with the associate who always comes by to help, then you buy only 1 bauble and leave. Needless to say, your flimsy excuse of “perfecting your Christmas tree” has been seen through by everyone on staff. 

By now they probably have a nickname for you. Christmas Tree Courtney? Ornament Olive? Sketchy Sarah? Please, not Sketchy Sarah. “Y/N! How’s the tree coming along?” And there it is. That angelic voice you’ve fallen in love with yanks you out of your panicked imaginings so you can panic in real life instead. 

At the end of the aisle is the most stunning man you’ve ever seen with a cherubic face and gorgeous, cat-like eyes. His ash gray hair catches the twinkling of the fairy lights that line the shelves, giving him an almost ethereal glow. You’ve come to know this remarkable man in this unremarkable store as Jimin. What started as a harmless crush on him has turned into a (failing) mission to ask him out. For all of the times you’ve plucked up the courage to go see him, however, that grit flies out the window once he’s standing in front of you. 

You remind yourself to pick your jaw up from the floor as he approaches. “H-Hey! It’s looking good, almost done.” Jimin reaches your side and then turns to regard the wall of ornaments that you’re pretending to be interested in. “I should hope so,” he finally says after a pause. “This is our last day after all.”

Pause. “Last day?” Hopefully, that didn’t come out as stressed as you’re feeling right now. “Well, yeah.” Jimin absently grabs a glittery star from the wall to watch it twinkle in his hand. “We’re closed tomorrow and on Christmas day. The store’s done for the season.”

Internally, your world has come to a screeching halt. Surely, things can’t end so uneventfully? You’ve journeyed here to see Jimin for weeks on end and for what? To chicken out every time and watch as the love of your life (you’re positive that he is) slips through your fingers? Your hopeful Christmas story is starting to look much more like a tale of the one that got away. Unsure of what to say, you grab a bulb of your own, a shiny red one, and turn it in your hands. Jimin’s eyes catch yours in its reflection. He’s studying you as if he knows you’re hiding something from him. Instead, he grants you mercy by continuing the conversation himself. “Are you sure that’s the one? This ornament, I mean.” He gestures to the one in your hand. “I thought you said this year’s theme was tan and green?”

Queue the worst fake laugh you’ve ever laughed. “No, you’re right. I don’t know where my head is today!” This is not a lie. “Let me just–” 

You reach to hang the ornament back on its display, but Jimin gently intercepts your hand, slender fingers stealing the loop from yours. His smile is so beautiful that it hurts. “I’ve got it,” he says. “Here, I think I’ve got the perfect one for you.” Jimin crowds you between himself and the ornament wall, reaching above you to grab one above your head. Your eyes catch a sliver of the plush of his stomach that’s exposed when his shirt rides up and though you’ll never admit it, your mind is instantly flooded with thoughts of sin. It’s so hot in here all of a sudden.

“Here!” Jimin once again pulls you back into the present, this time by gently bringing your hands together to form a cup. You accept your new position obediently as he places an oversized, almost-bronze bauble in your hands. “I think this could be the missing piece,” he grins proudly. Everything about Jimin is so soft, so elegant, so overwhelming. No wonder you can only ever leave here with one item every time – how are you supposed to follow that up? It really will be a pretty addition to your Christmas tree even though it’s been “complete” for a while now. It’s just hard to focus on that when you’re having skin-to-skin contact with the most dazzling person you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. 

Finally, you manage to show gratitude with words. “Actually, I think you’re right. Perfect recommendation as always, Jimin!” This is all too much. You need to get out of here before you say something stupid. There’ll be time to wallow in despair about your own cowardice later. “Thank you so, so much. And Merry Christmas!” You can’t look him in the eyes as you say it, opting to glue your gaze to the bauble in your hands as you turn to leave. “W-Wait! One more thing!”

Body reacting before mind, you spin on your heel to face Jimin one last time. He produces a slip of paper from his apron pocket and beckons you back over to him so he can place it in your coat pocket. When your eyebrow quirks up in confusion, he explains, “Open it after you leave.”

“Wha–”

“Hi, how can I help you?” Just as abruptly things began, they end with Jimin breezing past you to help another customer that’s wandered into the aisle. He’s absorbed in his Ornament Monitor duties – acting as if your interaction hadn’t happened. It dawns on you that this is the last time you’ll see him. The moment for action has passed, you have to go home and never see this exquisite specimen of a man again. Your clothes suddenly feel like bricks as you make your way to the register up front to pay. The same clerk that greeted you at the door squeals “finally!” when you check out, but you barely hear it. All that’s on your mind is missed opportunities with Jimin. You thank the clerk for their help robotically and head out the door to begin your walk of solitude back home. The chill of reality hits your skin and you immediately shove your hands into your pockets. The paper Jimin left with you crinkles under your fingertips and urges you to inspect it now instead of in the warmth of your Jimin-less home. Ignoring the frost biting at your hands, you unfurl the stationary as you stand on the sidewalk. In black pen is a phone number and beneath it, dainty handwriting: “Call me? :)” 

Looks like you’ve got your Christmas miracle after all.

[uchihabbynic]

The Memory of Him

Portgas D. Ace x GN! Reader

Content: Spoiler! as it relates to Ace & the events of Marineford, lots of fluff, angst, Ace being adorable as always, kissing, mentions of drinking alcohol.

                                  ₊ ˚⌒⌒ ₊ ˚⌒⌒ ₊ ˚⌒⌒ ₊ ˚⌒⌒ ₊ ˚

Hues of cotton candy pinks and purples danced across the sky as the sun set behind the ethereal man who’d washed ashore your beautiful, private island. You carefully analyzed the curvature of his lips when he spoke to you, the way his freckles were lightly peppered across his cheeks and the burnt orange hat that sat atop his mess of curls. You were quickly enamored by the pirate you’d saved only a few hours prior. 

It must’ve been his brutal honesty, the way he challenged your way of thinking or his undying love for his little brother who he was certain would become the King of the Pirates that drew you to Ace, despite him being a strange visitor in your country. It all happened too quickly, really - the closeness, the connection you’d built as you sat side by side watching the sun set, listening to the crackle of the fire that he’d lit with a mere snap of the finger while he rambled on endlessly about his adventures. 

“How can you be so brave?” You asked the freckle faced man who’d been chugging a bottle of booze. His 4th one, to be exact. Hearing stories of the vast sea and brave fights Ace had participated in made you admire him so much more, only hoping you could one day mirror his strength. 

Ace paused briefly and looked up at you before flashing a wide grin, tossing the empty bottle to the side. “I am a free man, Y/N…” he slurred. “Who should I fear when the world is my oyster?” 

“Easy for you to say, I suppose…” you scoffed. “Fire Fist Ace and Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates.” Ace couldn't help but chuckle as you listed off his titles & alias’, fully knowing the weight behind them. 

“Hey, you can do it too, y’know.” Ace smiled as he scooted closer to you, accidentally brushing against your hand that was settled on the blanket underneath you. This alone sent the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy.

You felt the heat radiating off your face from the close proximity and wondered if Ace could feel it too. “Do what?” you pressed on, determined to keep your composure. You wrapped the bottle around your lips once more, taking a long gulp before throwing it aside - trying to play it cool, despite the alcohol coursing heavily through your veins creating a slew of indecent thoughts towards your new friend. 

“Be brave, of course.” Ace replied, letting out a hearty laugh. Oh, how you missed that beautiful melodic laugh. Ace’s words caught you off guard and you felt yourself simply frozen in time, gazing into his eyes, longingly - lovingly even as each word rolled off his lips. To think that a man you’d met only a few hours prior could have this effect on you was a wonderfully, unexpected surprise. 

Before you knew it, the moon was high in the sky and the orange fiery embers crackled aggressively, illuminating the surrounding space of the mountain side area you and Ace had been sitting at for hours now. You wanted to blame the alcohol but at some point, the Fire Fist’s head ended up in your lap. You caressed his black locks while he stumbled over his words, drunkenly retelling his favorite childhood memories of Luffy and Sabo. 

A sudden boldness overtook you causing you to lean down and plant a gentle kiss on Ace’s lips; the taste of Sake overwhelming your senses. A pretty pink flush dusted his cheeks as he settled into the kiss letting instinct take over, cupping your face so slightly as you opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to dance in synchrony with yours. 

“You’re quite cheeky, eh?” The pirate grinned as you pulled away, breathless, stomach churning in knots trying to process what you’d just done. Was it too forward? You thought as a wave of embarrassment washed over you. You don’t know why you even did that, really.

“I-Im so sorry, I-” you stammered, trying to frantically explain yourself, worried that you’d ruined the mood or overstepped the boundaries of your newly budding friendship. Ace sat up, sitting criss-cross in front of you and reached up to move a stray hair behind your ear. 

“Hey.” The pirate began, much more serious than before. “Don’t apologize.” Your head snapped up hearing these words; shocked but instantly feeling a sense of relief. 

“A part of being brave is being unapologetic… going for what you want.” He smiled, deeply appreciating your forwardness before planting another gentle kiss on your lips, his hands now resting on the plushy meat of your thighs. 

As the night drew on, so did your heated, drunken make out session as you explored each other's bodies for the first time. It was so uncharacteristic of you to let yourself be so open and vulnerable with anyone, let alone a pirate you’d just met but Ace’s spirit was so beautiful; so warm and inviting - that you’d probably climb the highest mountain or bear the harshest seas if he asked you to. 

You fell asleep with your head buried in his chest and wrapped in a blanket up to your neck as the stars and the moon twinkled above you, keeping watch as you laid to rest in the mountainous open air. As you drifted to sleep with Ace’s fingers tangled in your hair, you swore you were floating - living a dream you never wanted to wake up from. 

As that morning dawned, you would never forget the emptiness and disappointment you felt when you woke up alone, only to be left a note scribbled on a wrinkled piece of paper.

“I’ve got to meet back up with my crew so we can be onto our next adventure, but we’re sure to meet again. I promise. - Ace”

Your heart pounded in your ears as you clutched the note to your chest. As you reread the words over and over, you sat wrapped in the blanket from the night before, breathing in Ace’s scent that was still embedded in the fabric, desperate to clutch onto any remaining pieces of him that you could. Despite the frustration you felt that Ace had left so abruptly after such a wonderful night together, you found solace in his promise that he’d make his way back to you and you’d hoped that maybe he’d even offer you a spot on Whitebeard’s ship, whisking you away on new adventures with the rest of his crew.

                                    ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The memories of that night with Ace 2 years prior played in your head over and over as you gripped the black and white newspaper reading the words “Fire Fist Ace: Dead after Paramount War!” Your fingers violently trembled as you processed the words and the photo of your beloved friend on the front page causing guttural sobs to erupt from your throat. At that moment, you knew there was absolutely nothing that could soothe the heavy ache in your chest. The sheer sorrow, emptiness and loneliness you’d suddenly felt overwhelmed you as your breathing became rapid and uneven. Ace’s death was not a wound that would quickly heal, but rather fester for some time to come.

“He promised… he fucking promised..” you cried out in between sniffles as your whole body collapsed to the ground. Your hot tears ran down your face and onto the gray paper as you sat, shaking violently. You were furious at him even though you knew you had no right to be. He promised he’d come back for you so how? Why could he be so reckless? You wanted so desperately to blame something or someone for such a tragedy but you knew that’s not what Ace would’ve wanted. 

Ace’s words about bravery replayed in your mind. You wanted to be strong; be brave - for him. You knew that Ace wouldn’t want to see you like this but you weren’t fearless like him. You wore your heart on your sleeve and goddamn, did you heart hurt. The encounter you had with your old friend Portgas D. Ace was all that you had to cling onto and was something you would cherish forever as he taught you so much about yourself and life in such a short period of time. 

You’d come to realize through your grief and pain that being brave also meant moving forward and not letting resentment and anger consume you, learning that loss doesn’t necessarily mean the end but simply the birth of a new beginning, a new mindset, a new adventure to discover and you swore to hold onto the sweet memories and teachings Ace had given you for the rest of your life, eventually feeling a sense of gratitude that you had the pleasure of being a comrade to the one and only Fire Fist Ace.

tags: @jordyn-degas @hoeronoa-zoro ✨

[firethekitty]

tumblr guide for new users!!!

[mizunetzu]

my request is flaaaaaacidddddd peeeeenisssss

Flaaaaaaaciddddd peeeenisssss

——————

Iida x reader - Iida Tenya’s Imaginary Boyfriend (True Ending)

⚠️warnings - good ending HAHAGQ

Pronouns - male, he/him

Part one can be found here!

Part two can be found here!

——————

He woke up in recovery girls office.

He wasn’t sure how he got here. All he remembered was his head feeling a bit faint walking back to the dorms, then waking up here. Looking out the windows, vast colors of orange and yellow flooded in between the cracks of the blinds, making colorful stripes paint his bed with light. He presumed it was around sunset.

The door clicked open. Recovery girl, Aizawa, and detective Tsukauchi walked through the door.

“Do you know where you are right now, Iida?” Aizawa was frank, as usual.

“I believe I am in recovery girls office, though I have no clue how I got here.”

Tsukauchi cleared his throat. “You were hit with a villains quirk about 2 days ago. You’ve been asleep ever since. It caused you to go in a nightmare-ish dream state until we caught them.”

Iida retrieved his glasses from the bedside table. It was then he realized he was in his pajamas. Aizawa stepped forward. “What’s your full name?”

“Iida Tenya.”

“How old are you and what school do you go to?”

“15 years old and I attend UA high school.”

Aizawa hummed. Nothing seemed to be wrong with his memory. “Do you know what day it is?”

“March 17...no, 19? Forgive me, it’s somewhere between there.”

“Iida,” Aizawa looked confused. It made Iida feel sort of uneasy aswell. Like getting a problem wrong and having your teacher be disappointed in you. “That’s almost a full month away. It’s February 3rd today.”

February 3rd. If Iida recalled correctly, that was around the day that everyone seemed to forget that (Y/n) existed. He checked his wrists out of habit. (Y/n’s) watch were gone. He was about to ask where it was, when the detective clicked his tongue.

“Well-thats to be expected,” Tsukauchi held up a case file, most likely a report on the criminal who used their quirk on Iida. “Time passes differently in the quirk-induced coma Iida-san was in. Some people affected by them claim it’s been years when it’s only been a couple of days. Truly terrifying.”

Recovery girl tutted. “All of his vitals seem to be in check. He should be able to return to the dorms now. Just have him take it easy for a couple days in training.”

“Mm. Make sure you make up your missed work,” Aizawa turned back, as Tsukauchi exited the office and recovery girl sat in her desk. “And tell your classmates you’re alright. Your friends were freaking out when you wouldn’t wake up in the morning. They should be in the dorms by now.”

Iida nodded.

———

Walking back to the dorms, there was one thing Iida couldn’t get off his mind.

He’s been in a ‘quirk-induced coma’ for 2 days. The passage of time is different with their quirk as to real life. And he could’ve sworn it was late March instead of early February.

So when did he fall asleep? And what was his ‘dream’ about?

He, at first, thought it was the result of walking home with his friends after seeing that sketch artist Kaitekina, but that doesn’t happen until almost a full month later. So, most of the things Iida remembers doing and learning in class has not happened yet.

And, nightmare? He remembers falling asleep and seeing (Y/n) in his dreams, but that doesn’t fall under ‘nightmare’ territory. Actually, it was rather pleasant.

“Oi! Iida’s awake!” He heard Kirishima yell, as he walked through the door. Most everyone was in the common room, and turned their heads. Each one of them erupted into a smile, saying things like “are you ok?” Or “glad to see you awake, Iida-san!”

He, unintentionally, tuned them all out.

What was his ‘nightmare?’ What made his dreams about a boy who doesn’t exist so bad? Was he waking up in his dream just to go to bed in that dream to dream another dream? What-

“-and (L/n) was so worried bro! I mean-he looked ok like usual but I guess he doesn’t really go out of his room unless you force him t-“

“I’m sorry, who?” Iida’s disbelieving voice sharply cut off Kaminari’s ramblings. He didn’t hear that correctly. His mind had to be playing tricks on him.

“...bro...” Looks of worry or confusion flooded the 1A students. Similar to when they looked at him like he was insane, asking for a non-existent student named (L/n) (Y/n).

Kaminari awkwardly chuckled. “(L/n)...? Your personal hype man? Dude who follows you around like a dog?”

“Kaminari-that was mean, he does not follow Iida around like a dog.”

“But he does!”

A playful argument rang out between Jirou and Kaminari. Everyone’s attention seemed to shift from Iida, to Jirou blasting her heartbeat into Kaminaris ears with her ear jacks.

“Iida-kun, are you okay..?” Midoryia brought Iida out of his trance. “Did you lose your memory or something while you were asleep?”

“No no I just-I probably misheard Kaminari-kun. Who was he talking about?” His voice was wavering. His desperation hidden behind the glare of his thick cut glasses and messy bed hair. He needed to comb his hair once he sorted things out.

“(L/n) (Y/n)-kun?” There it’s was again. “He sits next to you in class? You...oh! You two fought in the sports festival? And...yknow...the whole,” Midoryia stuck out his tongue making a mask with his hands and pretending to lick someone’s blood. “-thing?”

Everytime he asked who he fought in the sports festival, everyone including Midoryia would say “Hatsume-san, Ibara-san, and Todoroki-kun.” He never recalled fighting someone named “Ibara” from class 1B, having fought (Y/n) instead, but he grew to just accepting it.

And when he asked about the Stain incident, Todoroki and Midoryia would claim it was just them three fighting him. There was no one with (h/c) hair that helped Midoryia, him, and Todoroki out immensely. As far as Iida was concerned, (L/n) (Y/n) did not exist to the world.

So why was everyone talking like he was a real person?

“Iida, if you really don’t remember, you should go get that checked out by recovery girl...it’s pretty odd that you forgot about your own classma-“

The sudden startup of engines, followed by the whirring hiss of smoke trailing past him cut Midoryia off. Iida burned through the pants of his pajamas, but he didn’t care. He ran as fast as he could to the 4th floor of the boys side of the dorms.

His heart quickened with every step he took. He wasn’t one to get his hopes up, but the obvious look of desperation on Iida’s face seemed to lead his thoughts. He needed to see for himself.

Skidding to a halt infront of the supposedly empty dorm room, he once again halted when he reached for the doorknob. Everytime he’d check this room on impulse, he was always met with the empty, white walls and drawn curtains supplied by the school. He didn’t want to walk in and face white again.

And he didn’t.

Almost taking the door off the hinges, Iida practically shoved the door out of his way. A small gasp ripped its way through Iida’s throat.

A dimly lit room, one that was never kept clean, that had an oddly sweet smell coming from it. He saw the vaguely familiar (f/c) bedsheets, with the sea blue comforter thrown lazily on it, half slipping onto the ground. He saw the messily taped Ingenium posters, crooked and wonky, plastered on his studying table, which was almost never used for studying. When they studied together, it was usually on Iida’s bed or somewhere outside.

But finally, he saw the patio slider door opened, curtains fluttering in the mellow orange sunlight with someone standing outside. They were leaning on the balcony, with their arms stretching up, the reflection of their cheap red watch burning light into Iida’s eyes.

“(L/n)...kun...?” The name felt foreign on his lips. Even if he technically ‘saw him two days/one month ago’, it felt like years since he’s actually felt like he was in the same room as him. The boy, (Y/n), turned around.

Setting sunlight painted his face with warm colors, making the (h/c) shade of his hair burn brighter. The light also seemed to reflect off the (e/c) iris’ of (Y/n’s) face, making it look like it was glowing. It lit his face well enough to make him seem ethereal. Breathtaking. Real.

It was him. It was (Y/n).

“Morning, Tenya. How’s it feel to be asleep for two days?”

Iida didn’t answer. Instead, he walked tentatively towards the patio sliding entrance, his burnt pajama pants cinching his calves now that his adrenaline high was subsiding. He stopped a few inches way from (Y/n), reaching out and shakily touching his cheek.

Instead of fazing through him, or flat out fading, his hand made contact with warm, soft skin. (Y/n) hummed and nuzzled his cheek into his hand. Iida’s vision blurred involuntarily, despite him having his glasses on.

“Is something wrong? Did something happen?”

His voice’s vibration, and the warm breath that fanned his chest was enough proof that he was here. Enough proof he was dragged down back to earth, no longer just a distant memory no one remembered.

Iida’s throat closed up, and he felt his knees go weak. He was a blurred mass of (h/c) and (skin/c), with the hint of red that protruded from his arm, but Iida knew he was still there. He was there, with him, and would be going on until forever.

A tender, hoarse chuckle escaped Iida. He leaned his cheek onto (Y/n’s) forehead, not caring that his face and bed hair was still messy and reeked of sleep. He smiled.

“Nothing. Nothing at all, (Y/n)-kun.”

——————

Haha. That was fun. Anyways-

[aurora-daily]

Aurora: “People attack people that are different so quickly”

Interview by Aleksandra Brzezicka for Dork magazine (August 4th, 2021).

Aurora has paid a few visits to the world of mainstream media so far. You might know her from John Lewis Christmas advert, feature on ‘Into The Unknown’ for Frozen II or, most recently, ‘Runaway’ challenge where people would pose against a starry sky to the sound of her, now trending, song.

“I know for sure that ‘Runway’ can be a very good friend in times of need. It has been to me, and it’s always been nice for me to sing that on stage throughout my years of touring because it always brought me comfort,” she says.  

Still, Aurora’s much more than your everyday social media sensation; she’s a soul-touching, 25-year-old Norwegian musician with an international cult following. Ever since the 2016 debut album ‘All My Demons Greeting Me As A Friend’, like an empress, she’s been calling on with an ethereal voice all the outcasts to join her queendom. It’s a sanctuary ruled by the laws of magic and build on the solid soils of equality. Who wouldn’t want in?  

“I go very deep within myself when I write songs, and I feel like that place I go to could be a magical world. I’ve always felt like I want music to be a way for us to face ourselves and our emotions,” she shares. “I try to make sure that people can disappear into this other place, and it’s a bit better than this world. I feel like it’s important for us sometimes to dream ourselves away and just be safe for a little while before we go back to the real world.”

The real world can be a scary place, especially if you feel like you don’t belong anywhere in particular. That’s why Aurora is making her grand comeback with ‘Cure For Me’, a new single that’s a playful spin on a very serious subject. “Inspiration for the song was mainly the countries where they can still do conversion therapy for gay people. I was just imagining how it must feel to be brought into place and be told that what you are is wrong and you need to be cured of it. Cured of your love. I thought how insanely helpless you must feel and how horrible it is and everything in the world that makes us believe that there’s something wrong with us,” she comments.    

Aurora dug deep into society’s perverted psyche, trying to understand our tendency to undermine ourselves and question reality based on archaic views that never served us right. ‘Cure For Me’ is a declaration of independence from that cracked cycle. ���It’s a celebration of everyone that’s been told that there’s something wrong with them. Nothing is wrong with us, and we should just embrace ourselves and let ourselves be. People attack people that are different so quickly. It’s a celebration anthem to reassure yourself that you’re fine,” she confides.  

Though the single came to life two years ago, in the midst of touring, the time for it to be out is now, when every day can feel like we’re on the verge of some new catastrophe. “It’s a very fun song, and it’s very playful because we need it. I think we need it, the playfulness,” Aurora says.  

After spending what was like a lifetime away, gracing international stages, Aurora felt a sense of relief finally being able to hide away in the cold cosiness of her Norwegian hometown. Surrounded by nature, closest family, books and art, she contemplated the meaning of broadly-defined existence and everyday hassles. “It made me thinking how much work we have to do, and it had also reminded me how strange this world is and how many things don’t really matter,” she says. That strangeness is a motif often underlining her music as it was from another universe. A universe where you can run with the wolves and dance on the moon. Entry fee is a small amount of child-like naivety and a strong desire to believe.

Asked what would she would do wielding any magic power she wishes, Aurora says: “Go back in history and prevent the fact that Europe took all the resources from Africa. Just prevent all of the things that made the world as it is today. People are at war and starving because many, many years ago, other countries took everything they had, so they were left with nothing. If people can just stop being hungry for more when they more than enough or they have enough because so many people have nothing. It should be a simple thing to fix. I don’t understand why some people need to have everything.”  

As exciting it is to be one of the most interesting, and successful, voices on the alternative music scene, standing in the spotlight can be tiring after a while. That’s why, whenever in need of a recharge and a slight shift of perspective, Aurora confides in nature. She’s lucky enough to see mountains from her Bergan apartment. “Nature keeps me very inspired because I love her, and also, she’s in pain. She’s given us so much, and she’s so diverse. Multi-diverse. She’s beautiful, dangerous and sensitive. It’s very inspiring for me to think about Mother Earth and all of her powers. Her hardness and softness. It’s very spiritual and magical for me. Like music.”  

While Aurora’s magic is sourced somewhere out-of-this-world, she doesn’t want to keep it locked there. The goal has always been to share it with anyone who might need it as much as she does. Her tribe of daydreamers stays grounded to reality and ready to stand up against any inequalities and insensitivities of this era.    

“I’m very inspired by people around me because people are going through so many things, and they all think that they’re alone when in reality there are so many people going through exactly the same. We can just speak about it, and we don’t. That’s very fascinating to me how scared we are of opening up,” she shares. If Aurora says so, maybe we shouldn’t run away anymore. Following her lead, let’s learn how to open our hearts to each other. Even if only a little bit.

[m4r13l3y]

Lover boy

Harry James Potter x Reader 

Y/n looks back at the times she spent at hogwarts with harry while a record plays

The dates/memories are out of order

Warnings; Fluff, Sad kinda, Cursing  

Masterlist

-

-

I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things We can do the tango just for two 

While horcrux hunting, after Ron left and the night Hermione went to find him Harry and you were alone 

The two of you sitting on the small bed, your head on his shoulder, holding hands. Hoping that you wouldn’t die any time soon 

A song came up in the radio, he stood up to turn the music higher and came back with his hand held out 

You took his hand with a small smile as his arms wrapped around your waist. The two of you danced with no worries, the war was the last thing on your minds, only caring to not mess up the steps 

“I love you harry” you whispered into his chest, “I love you more, y/n” he replied 

I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings Be your Valentino just for you 

Valentines day 1997, 

Even though Harry seemed to be obsessed with that weird potions book, he was also obsessed with you, and his Valentines day gift was going to prove it

You were sitting at the black lake, reading a book with hermione while eating some valentines day chocolates 

“Did Ron get you anything?” You asked, “No” she flipped the page of her book 

“Did harry get you anything?” She asked, “Not that I can think of-” Your voice cut out with voices of the two boys running towards you 

“Hello Y/n” Harry smirked with his hands behind his back, hiding something “Hi harry” you giggle as the two sat down 

Harry pulled out a guitar as he played some notes before asking “Will you go on a valentines day date with me” 

You threw yourself into his arms “Oh harry” you giggled “Ofcourse I would” 

Ooh, love, ooh, loverboy What're you doin' tonight, hey, boy?

You walked down the common room stairs, a pretty red dress that ended mid thigh with doc martens and red lipstick 

Harry’s jaw was on the floor, looking at you in awe. He always knew you were beautiful, but tonight you looked ethereal 

“You look-” He tried to find the words “Beautiful” Hermione smiled 

You gave him a hug, as hermione took out a muggle camera “Here you two smile” 

“1..2..3..” click 

“Be good” hermione waved goodbye

When you two came back harry’s face was filled with red kiss marks all over 

Set my alarm, turn on my charm

“Fuck” you groaned trying to turn off the alarm that’d been going on for 5 minutes now 

8:30

“Harry!” You tugged his shoulder “Wh- what” he stood up shocked 

“We’re going to be late” You hurried up to get your tie and skirt on, “Shit” he stood up to find his pants that were discarded somewhere around your room 

“Accio tie-” “Accio tie-” The two of you said at the same time, with a giggle the two of you put on your ties, “I never get how to do this” You shrugged trying to un-knot the fabric

“here” He chuckled, fixing your appearance and kissing your forehead after “Now let’s go” 

The two of you ran down the hogwarts halls holding hands to find potions 

“Come on” You pulled him into the class, “Ah miss Y/L/N oh- and Harry!” slughorn smiled “Don’t be late again come on in” 

Ooh, let me feel your heartbeat (Grow faster, faster) Ooh, ooh, can you feel my love heat?

4th year, 

“willyougoonadatewithme” he muttered quickly, looking everywhere but at you

 “What” you giggled, he took a deep sigh “Will you go on a date with me Y/N” 

“Ofcourse I will harry” you stepped up and put a hand on his chest, kissing his cheek “Why is your heartbeat so fast?”

“I was nervous” He chuckled 

That week you and harry made front page;

Tri-wizard champion Harry Potter out on a date with not-so-mystery girl: Y/N Y/L/N, how do the lovers feel knowing one of them could get ultimately hurt by the end of this contest

“Shes so annoying” you groaned “howd she even see us?”

I'd like for you and I to go romancing Say the word, your wish is my command

7th year, 

“Apparate” You whispered, your body swirling around until it stopped. Opening your eyes again you saw muggle london 

It was a saturday afternoon and you decided to take harry to your favorite place since you finally passed the apparation test 

“Come on” You smiled walking with him, “Where are we going?” He asked, holding your hand tightly 

“Walking Harry, I like to walk” you stopped to look at him, he kissed your forehead “You’re weird” 

The two of you walked in and out of big buildings, ate at a muggle cafe you always loved, and now were sitting at some bench in the subway 

“Thank you for coming with me” You whispered, 

“I’d go anywhere with you” he took your hand

“I love you” he held your waist and kissed you “I love you too Harry” 

Write my letter Feel much better

Dear Y/N, 

This summer has been the worst, you’ve been the only one to write me (Which is okay ofcourse I love you haha dont get mad), but I am at the headquarters for Order of the Phoenix. I miss you dearly and I hope to see you soon, I know you’re coming tomorrow, but I am still very impatient. I love you. 

Yours always, 

Harry 

-

Dear Harry, 

I miss you more, I know I was the only one to write. Hopefully you’ve found out why by now. I won’t write much since it’s better said in real face to face, and I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you

Yours, 

Y/N <3

-

And use my fancy patter on the telephone

Fourth year summer, 

“HELLO” You heard a voice you recognized as rons yell through the phone “Hello ron” 

“IS- IS THIS Y/N?” he yell-asked, “Yes Ron it’s y/n” you giggled “Don’t yell I hear you perfectly when you speak normal” 

“Oh Oh okay that’s much better” He sighed “Here’s harry” 

“Hello” You smiled to the phone “Hey y/n” he replied “How are you?”

“I’m well how are you?” 

“Perfect I’ve never actually used a phone before it’s pretty cool” he chuckled

The two of you talked for hours on end, until you heard Molly yell that it was time for dinner

The rest of the summer, before the quidditch world cup, the two of you talked almost every day until you finally saw him again 

When I'm not with you Think of you always (I miss those long hot summer nights) I miss you

It was the summer,

He kept rewatching a picture of the two of you in the room of requirments, before it was destroyed, on the floor. Your head on his shoulder as you two slept after a DADA class

Harry hadn’t seen you since the last day at school after the ministry attack and it was killing him. Were you safe? Did you eat today? Had you not forgotten to drink water? 

It was killing him to know neither of you could send letters to eachother, even if it was for your safety

Sitting in some cafe you had taken him too in the subway his mind running thousand miles per hour with thoughts of you, he saw dumbledore outside 

Hey, boy, where do you get it from? Hey, boy, where did you go?

“Where’s the kid” You hugged tonks 

“Here” Remus came from behind his son, Teddy Lupin, “Oh you are so cute!” You took him into your arms 

“Harry look” you walked to him and sat on the couch, the little brown haired boy giggling 

“We wanted to tell you guys something” Remus and Tonks walked up to you guys “We want you guys to be the godparents” 

You and Harry’s eyes went wide at the news “really!?”

Tonks nodded in excitement

“I would love to” You gave harry the kid and gave the two adults big hugs “Thank you”

Everything's all right

“Harry” you whispered into your hug, hugging him like you’d loose him at any second. Dumbledore had just died, you found harry limping back to the castle 

“Harry” You whispered again, he hummed in response, his grip on your waist becoming harder “i love you” harry whispered lowly “I love you more harry” 

Just hold on tight

“Harry Potter Is Dead!” you heard the man yell as all the death eaters behind him erupted in laughter 

You almost fainted, he was dead. Your soulmate, the boy you’ve loved your whole life. Harry Potter was dead 

The dark lords speech went in a blur, your mind couldn’t focus as all you thought was about Harry 

Neville took out the sword as harry woke up again and soon everyone was throwing jinx after jinx 

You needed to find harry, you left the great hall to see he and voldemort in a fight

Neville killed Nagini and Harry won 

Light won 

“Harry” You cried, He ran to you “Y/n” 

“We won” a ghostly smile crept on your face, “We won.” he replied pulling away 

“I almost lost you and I can’t bare the thought of you not knowing how much I love you” he pulled out a little box “You are my soulmate and I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you-” the box opened “I wanted to do this before the war” He chuckled, but got on one knee “Will you, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N Marry me please?”

“Harry ofcourse” You smiled, indulging him in a hug and kiss looking at the ring that looked beautiful on your finger

That's because I'm a good old-fashioned (fashioned) loverboy

The song ended and you were brough back to reality, everyone was dancing as Fred was fighting with someone for the mic

“What were you thinking about” Harry looked at you 

“Our story” you held onto his neck and kissed him, kissed him to show that it was all worth it, you two finally got your happy ending and now you’d just finished getting married

“Now” Fred took the microphone “Time for fireworks” 

Everyone looked up to see a picture of you and harry kissing, with the initals H.P+Y/I in a heart 

You took teddy into your arms and laid him on your waist as he giggled looking up

“I love you Harry” you leaned your head on his shoulder “I love you too, Y/n”

-

-

Taglist;

@wonderfilworld​ 

To be added to my taglist click here <3

[imtheflash]

Gone- Part two of heartbeat

It has been two months. Since the accident you haven't found the courage in yourself to visit her. Her side of the bed lays the same, edge of the covers curled down slightly because according to her "it looks nicer" and a few knickknacks spread over her side table. The stub of the concert you went to on her birthday last year. A strip of pictures of you too when you nudged her into a picture booth at the carnival. A stack of notes that you both wrote each other. Her socks are still on the floor from the night before the mission. Her pillow still fluffed.

You haven't cried yet. According to Steve's whispered conversations with Tony it means your still in stage one of grief. Denial.

That's not true though. Your girlfriend isn't dead so what are you grieving? She's in the med-bay laying on the same cot. In a coma not gone. What's done is done though so you quit moping around your shared room and go down to the shared floor to see the mission board.

Frowning you tap Steve's shoulder.

"Why am I not on any of these missions?"

He hesitated before answering.

"Look, I know you wanna go distract yourself but this isn't healthy. You need to go see her. This isn't right"

You scoff before looking up at him. "This isn't right. My girlfriend is in a coma. To hell with what's right or wrong here and who, says I haven't gone and seen her huh?"

"I do." Tony speaks up from where he was sitting watching you argue back and forth together. "Your name has never been checked on the sign in sheet on the med-bay. On the last two missions you went and stitched up your injuries yourself and, avoided going into the med-bay even when there was a chance that you could see Peter's next invention." Wanda looks up at you too. "I agree with Tony. You haven't been down here for anything besides the mission board. You turned down every offer to watch a movie or to even cry. I get this is affecting you but you need to stop losing yourself in missions. It isn't safe"

You threw your hands up "I don't need to go see her. I know what she looks like or have you forgot that I was with her when her heart flat lined. Or when she lost so much blood that the first thing they did was get a bag of it and replace it every 20 minutes because it was that bad. Or I forgot did you see her basically say "HEY guess what I'm okay with dying for now really its fine" with the last breath she had? Have you ever thought that the reason I haven't gone to see her is because she is going to look the same as when she died and I can't stand it. That I can't let myself cry because I know as soon as I start start I don't know if I'll ever be able to STOP because I know she's gone. And all I've got left is her voice in my head" Your voice breaks in between each sentence and you begin to cry, for the first time in those few months you finally let yourself feel everything while you sink to the ground. Steve wraps you in a hug and Wanda gets up to join. Soon enough your wrapped in the midst of everybody, warmth and comfort flowing through them and trying to console you.

You end up pushing back from their hug in an attempt to pull yourself together a couple minutes later.

"I'll go visit her later" You don't think that they believe you but Tony nods and speaks for what seems like all of them.

"Of course. We'll be here if you need us"

You make the lengthy trip back to your room and decide to change into something comforting. The black hoodie that Natasha used to live in when she was upset pierces through your mind. You see it laying on a chair still wrinkled from the last time she wore it. You get an idea and instead of wearing that you choose something simple.

As you hesitate instead of going down to the med-bay immediately your eyes land on a picture framed on the wall. You were kissing her cheek and her cheeks were red. It was a couple months after you had started dating. It effectively reassures your decision as you bring the sweatshirt with you. You take the elevator down to the med-bay praying for nobody else to hit the buttons between floors. You write your name on the sign out list outside her room and walk in.

She looks better than...then. Her arms a static by her side and the heartbeat monitor is beating readily. You don't say anything to her yet, simply walking over to the attendant and asking if its okay to move her around yet, pitching your idea with a hopeful look in your eyes. When she nods you take that as cue to walk over to her.

She looks so.. peaceful. Ethereal almost. The smudged dirt had been moved from her face. Red hair lay out on her right shoulder and a cast on her left ankle. Two bandages were on her right arm and you're sure that if you lifted her shirt you would find more, all stab wounds and scratches leading to blood loss..

You nod at the nurse in the room waiting for them to leave before you step over to her leaning her forward and putting the sweatshirt behind her. Satisfied with the placement you lean her back and weave her arms through the sleeves. You step over to her leaning her forward and putting the sweatshirt behind her. Satisfied with the placement you lean her back and weave her arms through the sleeves. Satisfied with your work you lean back and appreciate that she looks a little bit more.. human. You take a seat next to her.

"Hey Nat. Uh you probably can't hear me. But um. You lived. Your still alive. Sorry for not visiting. I um. I don't know what to tell you. I've been doing okay. I was in a mission and I got stabbed carelessly a week ago but that's it." You hold her hand, waiting for a twitch or a shudder like it says in all the story books. A lover holds the other and magically wakes up.

"I could really use you around." Your voice shudders in between words. "Things haven't been the same. I miss you. Things are crazy."

You lift her hand up and press a kiss to the back of it. "Come back to me please. Come back like you always promised you would." You press one final kiss to her forehead and get up and leave waiting waiting WAITING for her voice to call out and tell you that she's here and alive and okay.

It never does.

You exit the Med-bay slightly nauseous and feeling worse than when you came. You wish it were like all the books you read. All the romcoms you watched with her.

"I still don't understand why we're watching this again." Natasha comments. It was some romcom that she wasn't that interested in. Instead of watching it she was watching you. Smiling when you smiled giggling when you yelled out commentary. "are you even watching it?" you ask her for the 4th time when she got caught looking at you.

"I am I promise." She brings your hand up to her lips a habit she had.

Not risking getting caught again she looks at the screen.

"Wait so she's just gonna wake up? That's like 2 gallons of ketchup blood she lost and she's just gonna wake up because he asked her too?" she yells outraged. You giggle at her expression loving the playful side of Natasha you got to witness. At least give her something to wake up too? The nurse is hotter then he is goddamn it and doctors should be offended, they didn't need to do anything it was his voice that woke her up!"

"Hey!" you pout "What about me"

"I never said you weren't hot" She protests when you move from where your cuddled into your side. You pretend to be mad and stay on the end of the couch until out of nowhere she plops down ontop of you, peppering your face and neck with kisses "I" kiss "love" kiss "only" kiss "you" kiss "Capice?" Kiss.

"Capice!" You giggle trying to squirm away from where she was attacking you with kisses. You end up creating a schedule of visiting her every other day. Soon enough that turns into every other week. You never stop though until your sent on a month long mission. It dawns on you then that just because your world stopped moving, everyone else's never did.

You take one last glance around the room, memorizing every detail before walking to the quinjet. Hopefully, something would change when you came back.

[gumjester]

Could you perhaps share more ideas/headcanons on the Narrators and/or Brooke?

OF COURSE though this is probably more general thoughts than specific headcanons, the narrators feel so ineffable in my head that making hcs about them is very hard

that being said, the way you phrased this ask made me realise that i keep talking about the narrators as more of a concept than actual characters, which of course is what they are. i do find it interesting to think that the narrators really are just random people, parents even, that are orchestrating worlds as a day job because they just happened to be born (born?) narrators. did they have other dreams? can they have other dreams? i don't know. much to think about

in terms of brooke i find her a bit of a tragic character honestly. i dislike her for shallow reasons but looking beyond that she seems to me like the loneliest character in eah. we don't know how the narrator world functions, it could just be her and her parents up there in the 4th dimension and the only other people she has to talk to are the ones that stop existing when she looks away, and i feel like you could never be true friends with people (people?) you have that much influence over. in general, brooke leads a weird, sad life and wields way too much power for her own good. i could easily see a brooke corruption arc where she is so desperate for her "friends" to be happy that she begins rewriting the stories so that there is no conflict and everyone does what she perceives as the best thing for them. we actually see her do this a little in the alistair and bunny webisode which no i will never shut up about that short it was terrifying

also i genuinely completely understand the parent narrators' fears about brooke interacting with the story and sending it off its rails like the butterfly effect is so real. if one thing changes the rest of the story will eventually become unrecognisable and any narrator is going to have a tough fucking time trying to create a reality that they have no idea what's actually happening in. something like that would probably lead to the narrators having to abandon all hope of ever narrating that story again and they have to just wrap the cosmic scroll in hazard tape and chuck that whole reality into the ether. which actually does make me wonder why the narrators narrate stories in the first place. is it the only thing they can do? that's lowkey depressing. no wonder brooke is acting out

[honesthammie]

4th prompt part 2

The silence was appreciated as your mind wrapped up today's event. You had met your soulmate in a goddess of a woman. Everything you had discovered so far was perfect. You watched as she pulled a metal disk and metal stick from her pockets. The metal stick made a strange buzzing sound and glowed a faint orange at the tip as she hovered over the disk.

"What are you doing?" You asked after watching her in curiosity for a few moments. You would've let her continue as her face was quite the sight. Her eyes were sparkling with intent and her nose had the most adorable scrunch.

She stopped for a moment as you spoke as if thinking on what to say before continuing. "I'm scanning for any spider eggs in the building so we can take them with the other spiders to a planet of their own. A planet without civilisation but full to the brim with creatures they can eat. I think, the fam got them all. No, fam still doesn't seem right. The team does sound better!"

"A planet? What, are you some kind of alien?"

"Yes. Would that be a problem?" She asked. From the way her eyes sparkled, I believed her. Great, no wonder why she seemed so ethereal! So when I say, she's out of this world, it'd be a fact and not a flirtatious comment! For fuck sake, that's one of my best lines as well! Maybe I could use it when the time is right?

"Nope. After the discoveries of my life recently, that's actually the most believable thing. Please don't ask yet. However, those spider babies trust me. You aren't going to get them to listen without me. I spent at least a full 5 hours with them, they trust me more than you. Come on little Miss Sunshine, hop to it, the spiders won't wait forever." I spoke with confidence. I knew she knew, she needed me. That's why she followed me. "I'm (y/n) by the way"

"Great name! Love that name, was always one of my favourites. I've always fancied myself as a (y/n) but the faces never seem to fit it. I'm normally a John but I can't be now I'm a woman. Why don't you give me an alias for when I'm undercover?"

"Hmmm. I quite liked the name Alice and you certainly suit that name. Is there a name people call you when you aren't undercover. What do family call you?"

"Alice. I love that! I'm keeping Smith. Alice Smith. Perfect! Knew you'd be the one to help me. People tend to call me the Doctor. So do I for some reason. Wish I knew why."

This cute blonde alien was more mysterious the more we talked. She told me of how her ship goes in time as well as in space. She told me of the time of when she met Robin Hood with an older face and a companion named Clara. All this talk and I wasn't bothered once by it. I could listen and watch her all day as she talks about adventures she's been on. She puts all the theatrics on and waves her arms about with so much passion and her eyes show her emotions so clearly. But I also saw age. If she's older than she looks, just how old is she? Not that it bothers me, it's just, if she's like hundreds of years old, she's probably had other lovers and I don't know if plain old me can compete with that.

Sooner than we realised, we came towards a blue Police box. She clicked her fingers and waltzed right in. This must be her TARDIS. I walked inside with awe. The ship was beautiful inside. Like a gem hidden as an ore. The golden and blue lights perfectly reflected her personality.

"It's fucking massive Sunshine! Ya didn't warn me about walking into a football field! No wonder why thousands of spiders seemed no problem! Fucking hell!" I stated as my eyes scanned the room in front of me. Then I felt a little tug on my right trouser leg. I looked down and saw a little spider wanting my attention. I bent down and picked him up. He seemed happy to be held like that so I kept him in that position as I wondered towards the Doctor.

I had so many questions I wanted to know and I'm sure she has too. But now was not the time for that. We needed to get these spiders to their new home. I continued to watch the Doctor as she danced around something she called a console. She was pressing buttons and pulling levers and many more things until the ship made a strange wheezing noise and I was thrown off my feet. Thankfully I was caught by someone. I looked up and saw an oldish man.

"Hello Love! I can tell this your first time here. We all fell down when she first did that with us. You learn to find something to grab onto. I'm Graham by the way." Graham spoke gently but loudly over the noise of the ship. I couldn't help but giggle, my grandad used to call me Love too.

Then as quick as the ship started, it came to a gentle stop. I looked around and notice the same 2 people from earlier. The girl was smiling and laughing to something the boy mentioned. They must be old friends. I then noticed the Doctor walk towards the doors and open them just enough for her to check outside.

"Right (n/n). I'm calling you that as we are friends now. Go on, it's your first new planet and you care about these spiders more than we do so I think it's best if you check everything it perfect for them!" The Doctor spoke with excitement. She even clapped her hands for a moment, obviously not being able to control the surge of energy running through her.

I held the spider in my arms and the doors opened in front of me. I closed my eyes for a moment as the light blinded me temporarily. I could feel the warmth of a sun and the cool breeze the gently whipped past your face giving you the perfect cooling needed. The planet smelled sweet yet sour like Toxic waste sweets. I could hear many creatures making strange noises, some were doing a high pitched growl and some others were doing deep scream. Then there were nicer sounds like birds tweeting but in a lower key and something sounded like a piano, specifically an old ragtime piano.

I slowly opened my eyes and noticed the silver sky and its 4 suns in each direction. I noticed that the high pitched growl was from a small flying frog like creature and the deep scream was from a big rabbit- horse like creature that was just chewing the purple leaves off the metal looking trees. The bird like sound belonged to a small Robin like creature, but instead of a red chest it was a beautiful blue hue and it had silver eyes that sparkled just right. The Ragtime piano sound belonged to a dog-raccoon like creature that scampered away with its mouth full of the fallen berries that the rabbit-horse dropped from the leaves. The grass beneath was as black as ink and the pond to the right of me was a strange red colour.

"Well what do ya think? I personally think it's perfect but you seem to know these arachnids better than me so, I could be wrong, although, I'm not often" The Doctor spoke with eagerness. I noticed her looking at me as I took in the world around me. Why does this feel all too familiar to me? Why do I like the escapism of Earth? Why is this so, freeing?

I took a deep breath in. "Its perfect Doc. The spiders will love it here! They'll adapt pretty quickly I believe. The creatures are big enough to satisfy them. Although the sounds are a little off putting." I put the spider in my arms in the oddly cotton soft grass and watched as the thousands of others followed in its footsteps. Some carried the baby spiders and others carried the eggs. They had already found a cave to lay the eggs and started weaving some webs within 10 minutes.

Once I was happy with everything, I said my goodbyes and entered the strange ship once more. I could feel fresh tears sting my eyes like tiny hot needles. I get so attached so quickly and I noticed the string warm up and I checked on my soulmate, she was looking at me with an all too familiar look, the look of complete adoration. So the string tells me when her love for me evolves until we kiss? I mean, that's when it disappears for everyone else.

"This was great Sunshine! I had a ride of a lifetime, I really did. So I guess, you can drop me off home, I'm probably not wanted and I don't wanna ruin your team dynamic here."

"Why on Earth would you think that? I was actually wondering if you'd like to join us. Those spiders trusted you and having someone like you would really make the adventures more thrilling. Besides, I really like you and there's something special about you and I can't place my finger on it. I don't like not knowing things. If I drop these off home for a bit, would you mind if I ran some tests on you?"

"Really? Sure. I don't mind. I actually wanna know aswell. You see, I know what's special but I don't want to tell you in front of the others, its a bit embarrassing." I asked whilst blushing. She nodded her head and set the TARDIS coordinates to Sheffield. The Doctor promised she'd be back in a week and set the TARDIS to float in our solar system whilst she got to work on me.

We walked into what I can assume is some sort of med Bay. The walk had conversations about the last planet and how we thought the spiders would adjust. Eventually she sat me down on a white bed.

"So, you said you knew why you were special. I don't like cliffhangers so I'll give you a custard cream if you tell me." She said as she got a paper document and waited for me to speak.

"I don't know how or why but have you ever heard of the red string of fate story?" I asked, wondering how to word this without sounding weird. She nodded her head in understanding. "Well, when I turned 16, I could see everyone's red strings. The world was covered in red. I was confused at first until I read that story."

"Hmm. That is interesting because all stories have some truth to them. Some are exaggerated and some are exactly as said. Well that story is a good example of that. Thousands of years ago, there were 2 species of human, homo sapiens and homo spectrians. Spectrians were low on numbers in population as they'd spend almost all their life playing match maker. You'd know Spectrians as Cupids. However when battles and wars happened, Cupids were out of a job as everyone had to focus on the country and not themselves. This is where arranged marriages started happening and Cupids were becoming depressed. Eventually the Cupids decided to blend in with the humans and became virtually extinct. You might be the only Cupid left in the universe, other than Valentine himself." She explained it so well.

"Can Cupids see their own string?" I asked. She paused for a moment. Her eyes flickered between heartbroken and hopeful. I felt the string flicker between cold and toasty warm just like her eyes.

"No. Cupids weren't supposed to have soulmates. But I guess you are technically half human so maybe that makes sense. Do you know who your soulmate is?"

"She's amazing. She's like a Goddess. When I first saw her I immediately thought, She's too fucking perfect for someone like me. She incredibly smart too but, can be oblivious. I mean, I only met her a few hours ago and I'm fucking smitten with her. She reminds me of sunshines and rainbows. I'm just waiting for her to make a move." I told her. She looked at me for a moment, processing this new information. She smirked for a moment once she figured it out.

"Well my soulmate had me wrapped around her finger the second she jumped in front of a spider to save her life. A bold move like that normally makes me mad but, she did it so well. I haven't known her long but I can see me being by her side forever, travelling the stars. She reminds me of those stars actually. The way she sparkles in the light. I love you (y/n) with both of my hearts." She spoke softly as we slowly leaned in. When she finished, she planted her soft lips on mine and the red string was gone. Not that I noticed until an hour later when we picked the team up and held hands to announce our relationship.

Maybe dating a sunshine is exactly who I needed.

[jamaiskookie]

How To Ask Your Crush Out: A Guide For Dummies [knj x reader]

⚖ warnings: intense amount of crack and very very trashy writing 

⚖ word count: 3.3k (very smol boi today, just wanted to get this little drabble out)

⚖ genre: crackity fluff; my specialty :-)

⚖ A/N: been preparing for halloween so forgive me for the short fic, i’ve been pUMPING out content for you guys recently. 

masterlist asks 

⚖ synopsis: Prof. Kim Namjoon is pleased and delighted to present his new class: How To Ask Your Crush Out For Dummies; A comprehensive, follow-along six step guide for the introverted and shy. 

A triumphant Kim Namjoon jumps into frame in front of the huge chalkboard in a huge lecture hall, holding a piece of white chalk in one hand and a pointer in the other, with a slightly maniacal grin stretched on his face. His black thick rimmed glasses are crooked and skewed, sitting on the bridge of his nose, completely lopsided. He’s been awake for- oh he doesn’t keep count. Possibly 28 hours by now. 

“Good afternoon, everyone!”  (It’s 6 in the morning, and nobody is in the audience.) He stretches out the long, metal chalkboard pointer, who he has named Bertha, and smacks it against the chalkboard. It echoes through the empty hall. He secretly loves the sound the long pointer makes. It’s so satisfying, and the fact that he got it on Amazon Prime for only like 2 dollars makes the sound so much better. 

“Welcome to today’s class!” He’s still talking to an empty room. It might be the desperation in him, or just his good ole’ friend sleep deprivation fueling his somewhat insane behaviour. “Today I am completely focused on solving the greatest mystery I have ever encountered in my lifetime. Arguably, this is the most scrutinised cold case ever seen in the world. Today we’ll be tackling: How To Ask Your Crush Out. Would anybody like to start off by introducing themselves, their crush, and how long you’ve been infatuated? Hm?” Crickets. 

“Ah, there’s nobody here!” Namjoon exclaims cheerfully, as if he only just realised. He swings back, turning to the chalkboard and continues teaching. “My name is Kim Namjoon, or Professor Kim to you,” Again, completely empty room. “And I have had a crush on Y/N L/N for almost two years now.” His smile falters when he realises it really has been two whole years. Clearing his throat, he smacks an A3 sized picture of a pretty girl onto the chalkboard. 

You are wearing a long cardigan sweater in the photo, candidly reading with headphones wrapped around your neck. Namjoon has written a barely visible small ‘Y/N, October 4th’ on the top corner of the picture. He’s always had a bit of a photography hobby, but his pictures always seem to turn out better when you are the subject. 

It’s a bit odd how you look so much better when you don’t know he’s taking a photo. All the selfies and old pictures from university he has of you are just as beautiful, but there’s something ethereal about you in your natural state. Sitting down and reading a book in a library. That photo is miles better than any of the stupidly extensive photo-ops you plan out for your Instagram pictures. He stares at the photo before turning back to the (imaginary) class. 

“Let me introduce the- as the kids say- lomél. I believe this is an abbreviation for Love Of My Life. L-O-M-L, if anybody wants to write the spelling down.” He swerves Bertha around to point at your picture. “This,” He says, seriously. “Is Y/N L/N, my… my friend since freshman year of university. I have never confessed my feelings to her, despite trying many, many times. Today, we’re going to trouble-shoot and hopefully solve this problem, while examining a shy person’s abilities to socialise and freely have a love life.”  Namjoon ignores the small voice in his head that mentions how a successful Philosophy professor who speaks in front of hundreds of students every day such as himself should be able to say ‘I like you’ to the girl he’s had a painfully obvious crush on for the past two years. 

“Step ONE:” Namjoon yells, writing a big ‘1’ on the chalkboard. “Do not start off a confession by mentioning a Confucius quote if your crush is not in the philosophy or ethics community! They will not understand no matter how obvious it is!” On the chalkboard, he draws an old man with droopy eyebrows and huge beard- Confucius. Then he draws a huge circle around it and crosses it out with a line using so much force he almost breaks the piece of chalk in his hand. 

“In fact, just don’t mention anything about philosophers! And don’t try to confess to them through a math problem, they will not understand!” Namjoon winces. He learned that one the hard way. (He asked you to isolate ‘1’ in ⅓ < 3, which is a seventh-grade level inequality. You had pushed him away and yelled at him for making you do math. The answer to the inequality equation would have been 1 < 3u.) ((1 < 3u = I <3 you. He thought it was pretty obvious.)) 

He draws a subtraction and addition sign and draws another circle, crossing through it. 

“Step TWO!” Namjoon shouts, cringing at the horrible scratchy noise the chalk makes against the board. “If you do get the chance to confess to them and manage to get through without substantially embarrassing yourself, DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT laugh and agree if they ask if you are joking! They will! Laugh along with you! While you try! To hide your pain!” 

“I cannot emphasise this enough!” Namjoon is basically screaming by now. He hopes nobody from campus comes in to complain. The picture of you on the board with the symbols that he’s drawn along with the big ‘FLIRTING AND DATING 101’ written on the top of the board could lead to some severe misunderstandings. “Do not laugh if that ever happens again- I mean, if it ever happens to you! It’s more likely than you would think if you are in love with a dumbass! It will happen! Misinterpretations and concerns will happen! Learn from them!” Namjoon writes a huge ‘laughing to hide the pain = bad ❌’ onto the board. 

“Does anybody have any questions?” More crickets. 

“Okay then, moving on!” Namjoon writes a ‘3’ below the notes for step 2. “Step THREE: Confessing via call, facetime, or handwritten letter would be optimal for the average introvert. I suggest a handwritten letter would be best for this kind of confession. Still not ideal, but it gets the job done. Can someone tell me why a handwritten letter would be better than a call, facetime, or anything on the internet?” Without waiting for his non-existent introvert class to respond, he snaps his fingers, a satisfied look on his face. “That’s right! Facetiming or hearing your crush’s voice would be too nerve wracking and inevitably, you’ll mess up and say something like ‘Did you know that Barbie’s real name is Barbara Millicent Roberts’ instead of ‘I’ve liked you for two years’...  I do not speak from experience.” 

Awkwardly, he clears his throat again, averting his eyes from literally nobody. “Texting would not be good! Texting is considered insensitive and is not a good way to confess your feelings. If the idea of a face to face confession is too intimidating or not ideal in your introverted situation, the aforementioned options would be your best choices. I strongly advise you to stick to those three. In order of a likelihood for a successful confession, it goes: Letter, facetime, then call.” He writes ‘letter > facetime > call > speaking in real life (?)’ on the board.

“hoWEVER,” He says, pointing at the large ‘3’ he wrote with Bertha. “If you do end up choosing to write a handwritten letter- write this down, this is an important note- do NOT forget to sign your name! Your crush will end up throwing it away thinking it’s a random admirer or a prank. MAKE SURE TO WRITE THIS DOWN!” On the board, he writes down ‘My name → Kim Namjoon.’ He nods thoughtfully. “Yes,” He says. “It’s important to write your name.” He mutters it over and over, staring glazed at the words written on the board. 

Close to bursting into tears, he grabs a hold of his hair and cradles his head in his hands. “Why didn’t you write your fucking name, Namjoon?” He frustratingly mutters to himself. Sighing, he puts his hands on his waist, marvelling at what he’d written so far. The peaceful silence doesn’t last for very long. 

“STEP NUMBER FOUR!” It’s not like him to be so loud. It’s probably a good, balanced combination of his lack of sleep and being alone with his inner thoughts. He’s pretty sure he has an alternate personality who thinks he’s Freud. Freud occasionally throws in some pretty deep psychoanalysis prompts for him to consider when he can’t sleep. 

“If… And only if you build up the courage to ask her out in person-! Well, firstly, congratulations, we’re all very proud of you. Secondly, do it in public! You might be thinking, Professor Kim, why on earth would I want to do it in public? Getting rejected in public is so much more horrible!? Well, BELIEVE ME, UNBELIEVERS- Getting rejected in public is sO much better than getting rejected in private! Due to our tendency to not draw attention to ourselves and the way we like to shrink in public, it’s much more likely that we won’t break down in tears if we get rejected in public! Well, once you get back home, you might start breaking down, so maybe this is just a temporary solution, but it’s still better than sobbing in front of your crush when you devastatingly get rejected!” 

Knitting his brows together, Namjoon corrects himself. “Not when you get devastatingly rejected, sorry. If. If. Yes, if. If you get devastatingly rejected. Come to think of it, in a purely logical way, you have a 50/50 chance of succeeding in your confession. ‘I like you, do you like me?’ That’s a yes or no question, isn’t it? A confession is exactly the same as flipping a coin! You have a 50% chance of getting heads, 50% chance of getting tails. Either way, you get on with your life despite getting heads or tails. So… the odds are kinda in your favour!” 

“Except when you flip a coin, you wouldn’t get nervous to the point where you accidentally push the coin into a mud filled pond where the coin’s favourite shirt got ruined so then the coin proceeded to ignore you for the next two weeks, making it the most miserable two weeks of your entire life… But that probably won’t happen again.” Namjoon mutters underneath his breath.  “Coins don’t wear shirts anyways.” Somehow, that seemed to comfort him. He writes down ‘coins can’t wear shirts’ on the chalkboard. 

“Step number FIVE!” Namjoon shakes his head, taking a sip of the espresso that’s been sitting on his desk for hours. “What was step number five agai- oh right. Step number five: look your best!” Namjoon catches sight of his reflection and winces. “Okay, maybe I don’t have a great example right now.” He reaches up and runs his fingers through his hair, almost puking when he feels the amount of grease and gunk buried in his scalp. He should probably shower. And get some sleep. His eye bags do not look very attractive right now. Maybe he should get a haircut too, it’s kinda getting wild up there. In his own defence, he’s been standing in this exact pair of sweatpants and glasses for the past couple hours, so he smells a tiny bit. Don’t girls like it when guys wear grey sweatpants? Frowning, Namjoon makes a mental note to do some research later on. 

“Shower, change, put in contacts, cologne, flowers…” Namjoon starts writing a to-do list onto his small notebook. “Would she like flowers, actually? Is it misogynistic of a guy to bring flowers or is it just a cute, nice gesture? Am I overthinking this?” His phone vibrates in the middle of his feminism breakdown, and he pats his back pockets before realising his phone was across the table. He grunts as he leans over to pick it up, and thoughtlessly, he accepts the call and brings it up to his ear. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” Your voice is both a comfort and a shock to hear so early in the morning. He can already see you sighing aloud and scrunching up your nose cutely, a habit you picked up from him himself. He does it when he’s embarrassed, but you do it when you’re angry. It doesn’t really work because now whenever you get mad he just swoons and gushes over your cute nose and chubby cheeks. 

“aH- Um… What time is it?” Namjoon fumbles around, jumping up. 

“It’s like 7 in the morning? Hello, you promised to come workout with me today? Come open your door, I’ve been ringing your doorbell for forever, but I think it’s broken. I’ll call the repair guy for you later.” Namjoon lets out a nervous laugh, guiltily looking at his shoes even though he knows you can’t even see what he’s doing right now. 

“It’s already seven? Wow, time flies really fast. I’m- ” He yawns, bringing the phone away from his ear for a moment. “- really tired.” A beat passes by. How is it possible that he can hear you get angry at him from here?

“Namjoon.” Another awkward laugh rings through the lecture hall. 

“Ahahha. - Yes?” 

“Are you at work right now?” You ask, voice suddenly turning stone cold. 

“Um, well, that’s a debatable question. See, is it really, honestly my work if I love doing it? Sure, it makes me a living, but of course I don’t consider it to be my workplace, you know? Like, I get to come in and do what I love every single day, educating the next generation. It’s actually a really bad mindset because once you refer to your job as ‘work’ you don’t-”

“Namjoon.”

“Okay yes, I’m at work.” He relents, pushing his glasses up and sighing. 

“Joon, it’s seven! Like, seven in the morning! Have you been in there since you clocked in yesterday morning?” You ask worriedly. 

“Uhh, I think so?” To be honest, he’s been here for two nights already, crashing out on a beanbag and brushing his teeth in the staff bathroom when he needs to. 

“Namjoon!” He mumbles out an apology. “What the hell could you have been doing in there? You don’t even have that many classes this week!” Namjoon lets his eyes trail over to the chalkboard, then back down to his notebook. 

“Uh… it’s kinda complicated?”  

“Okay, okay, I’ll come home now, don’t worry!” He says, even before you can demand he take care of himself. Sometimes, you’re just a teensy bit overbearing. It’s a messed up miracle he managed to fall in love with you in the first place. 

“Be careful, okay? It’s flu season, too, so you really can’t be this reckless! You’re literally going to drive me into an early grave, for fuck’s sakes. You’re always fussing over how overworked I am, so how could you not take care of yourself? That’s so hippo- hypo- ugh, what’s the word?” 

“Hypocritical.” Namjoon says into the phone while packing up his things. 

“Hypocritical, yes. You better be here in ten minutes or less, Kim. Come home, take a shower and then sleep. I’m guessing you have done neither of those things since yesterday.” Namjoon doesn’t have the decency or humility to give you an honest answer, so he just stays silent. His eyes are still fixed on the chalkboard. Where was he at when your phone call interrupted? Ah, yes. Step number six: ‘I love you.’ Step number six was a piece of advice he had gotten from Min Yoongi, a music theory professor who taught just a couple minutes away from Namjoon’s office. He’s been dating Jung Hoseok, another mutual friend of Namjoon’s, for a few years now. 

“What do you mean?” Yoongi just blinked when Namjoon asked him, stared blankly at him, lips threatening to pull up into a smirk. 

“What do you mean, ‘What do you mean’?” Namjoon said, huffing. “How did you confess to Hobi?” 

“Bro,” Yoongi said, now freely laughing at Namjoon. “If you can’t confess to her, just wait until you get around to thinking about proposing. Never been more nervous in my life, swear to god.” Namjoon had never been a violent type. Up until he met Yoongi. 

“Just- tell me how you did it, would you?” Yoongi gave a rare, small smile and beckoned him closer. He leaned in, about to tell Namjoon a big secret. 

“Just say it.” He whispered into Namjoon’s ear. Namjoon rolled his eyes, pulled away and rested his head on the sofa. 

“That’s the most useless thing I’ve ever heard.” 

“No it’s not!” Yoongi also leaned back into his seat. “Just say it. ‘I love you.’ It’s nothing difficult. Just say it!” Namjoon scoffed and left, but Yoongi called something out while he was walking away. “Hey, you’re going to lose her if you don’t do anything.” Namjoon froze, but continued to walk. Yoongi watched, two seconds later, amused as Namjoon came rushing back in, sat himself down on the sofa and demanded Yoongi tell him everything he needed to know. 

Thus, his six steps were born. 

If Min Yoongi, a person who is possibly even more shy and even more introverted than Namjoon, (Which is a big feat) can ‘just say it’, he should be able to do it easily. Namjoon nods to himself, rolling his head back and cracking a neck bone. 

Taking a deep breath, he speaks into the phone. 

“Hey, I have something to tell you.” 

“It can wait,” You say. It’s so like you to ruin a love confession, Namjoon thinks, laughing. “Come home, go sleep for a couple hours, then we can talk. It’s not important, is it?” He stares at the chalkboard, letting out a satisfied exhale. 

“Nope.” He says. “Not that important. I’ll tell you later.” 

“Okay,” He hears you grunt from the other side of the phone, shuffling around. “Hey, I’m gonna hang up first, I’ll wait for you to get here. Where’s your spare key again?” 

“Underneath the compartment in the hanging plant. Yeah- the one above the front door.” He hears the familiar jingle of his keys and your adorable ‘a-ha!’ from the phone, and his smile stretches wider. 

“Ohh, okay, got it. Thanks! You don’t mind if I go in first, right?” 

“Nah.” 

“Okay, bye!” Before he says it back, you hang up, and he’s left with an annoying beeping sound that repeats in his ear. He misses you, Namjoon muses to himself. He hasn’t seen you for much too long. Happily, he skips to the back of the lecture hall. (which he then immediately regrets when he finds out his legs don’t work properly after staying in the exact same position for hours without end.) He doesn’t even mind that you’ll see him in this horrendous state if he gets to see you fuss over him again. Your soft side coming out is like spotting a rare bonsai tree on sale in a run-down store- extremely special and only happens once in a while. 

Okay, that analogy was really bad, he just really wanted to mention his bonsai trees.

He spares one last glance to the filled chalkboard. With good luck, nobody will walk in and see that mess all over the board. He’d probably get fired. 

“I love you.” He says to himself. Maybe Yoongi was right. It does sound pretty easy. Namjoon walks out of the lecture hall, switching off the lights and running off to see you. 

Kim Namjoon’s Six Steps Towards Confessing Your Love: Introvert Edition

Do not refer to anything academic or clever in your confession. 

Do not laugh when they ask if you are joking once you confess. 

Letter > facetime > call

Confess in public. 

Look your best!

Just say it. 

⚖  wanna talk to professor!joon? or add yourself to the taglist?

[nikxation]

Fic Writer Interview

I was tagged by @endae <3 I throw this under a Read More since it's a little long.

How many works do you have on AO3?

23 (wow that's so much more than I had thought)

What’s your total word count on AO3

215,893 jesus fucking c-

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Marvel, Miraculous Ladybug, Gravity Falls, Danny Phantom, Star Wars So 5. 5 fandoms

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Top to Bottom: Premiere Night With a Large Popcorn and a Side of Eye-Rolling (Miraculous Ladybug), Tactility (Star Wars/Mandalorian), Tell Him (Gravity Falls), A Matter of Time (Gravity Falls), Catharsis (Gravity Falls).

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to. I think I've only ever not responded to a couple comments, and that's because they either 1) came from a non-registered user, so I knew they wouldn't see my response, or 2) it was just a "Kudos" comment or something along those lines that I appreciated but maybe didn't have the time or drive to respond to. But all comments are appreciated, and I do respond to the majority of them. I like engaging with my readers and letting them know I appreciate them sharing their thoughts about my work.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I mean I straight-up kill Stan in Their End, so that'd probably be up there for that reason. But I still think Tell Him had a certain level of foreboding to it that made it pretty angsty (and as popular as it apparently was).

Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever written?

I don't write crossovers, haven't really found a plot for one that's excited me yet.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I... don't think so... Not that I can think of right off the bat.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I have not, but I am... not as opposed to it as I used to be. I still don't think I ever will, but I blame my current affinity for pretty helmeted Star Wars men for the fact that I'm not vehemently opposed anymore. But again, not sure I ever would, but will clarify that if I ever wrote it, it would not be posted through this blog/account because this blog is non-explicit, I would make a side account for it.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yeah! DaraDjinn (don't know why Tumblr isn't letting me tag her) translated a couple of my GF fics to French a while back! Catharsis, Scars, and I Dreamt of Fire! Was super psyched when she asked me if she could do it!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have not.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I'm not very big on ships at the moment (aside from reader insert stuff, obviously, haha), but way back in the day, I really liked FrostIron (Loki x Tony Stark). It was one hell of a dynamic and really popular. Stucky (Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes) was a close second.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I'm not gonna say A Matter of Time, I'm not gonna say it and put those words out into the ether because I want to finish it I'm just trapped in Star Wars hell right now, but I'm also well aware of what happens when I latch onto a new hyperfixation, I can't maintain two of them, and I hate that because I really wanna finish AMoT and I know there are a lot of you out there that want me to finish it tooooooooo.

What are your writing strengths?

The two things people compliment me on all the time are the flow of my writing and my characterization. I personally love my writing flow, so I'm super glad when other people seem to like it too. When it comes to writing in-character, it's always a big fear of mine, but then I get comments of people gushing over how in-character things are, so that's reassuring and validating af.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I have one hell of a time with anything action-y (which is why... I don't write it a lot, haha). Fast-paced motion is really hard for me to nail down, especially when I like to hammer down details, so the necessity to get through things fast while still maintaining a clear picture of what's happening??? Difficult af.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think it completely depends on the situation, both in the fic and in real life. With respect to the fic, if you're writing dialogue in another language, it better be 100% in-character and not awkward. Like, too often you see people dropping in other languages either to use as petnames or to have a "oh oops sorry I accidentally switched languages" which gets... very near that unrealistic trope and can sometimes even come across as fetishizing??? So, like, it better be in-character and within reason. Bear in mind that if you're writing in another language, you better have a translation readily accessible, probably in notes (which, is still annoying because either you have to scroll down to see what they said, or you have to just keep reading not knowing... which, if you're not supposed to know, then alright I guess, but if it's a full conversation that you're supposed to be in-the-know on, it's annoying). With respect to your real-life situation, if it's a language you are personally not fluent in, you better be finding someone who is to run things by them. You can really ostracize your readers and take them out of your story if they speak the language and you say something taboo or blatantly incorrect because you just used Google translate. So, have someone who knows the language double-check your stuff, make sure it all reads correctly. TL;DR: Be tasteful and smart if you really feel the need to do it. Remember you're putting more work on the readers, so it better be worth it. And make sure you have someone check your work if you're not fluent in the language.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Pokemon, back in like 3rd or 4th grade.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve ever written?

I'm still proud of Catharsis, it was my first real delve into very introspective writing and flow, and it's a way of writing that I really enjoy slipping into every once in a while now. Also a lot of really nice descriptions and metaphors and motifs that I'm still very happy with to this day. More recently, I'm proud of Tactility, more for what it did for me rather than the fic itself. Well, I mean, I'm proud of the fic, it was my first delve into the Mando fandom and it got a lot of positive reception, it was exactly what I wanted it to be and came out exactly how I wanted it, especially in the short timeframe that I wrote it. But I'm just... very happy that I did it because writing reader inserts always felt very taboo for me. I've actually written a few before, all of them PG and very tame for different fandoms, but I've always just been... too nervous to post them? And this was the first one I actually felt comfortable posting and wanted to put out there, and it sort-of let me feel more comfortable with it and encouraged me to keep doing it, which I'm happy about because writing reader insert fics is so fun and I'm glad I feel comfortable enough to enjoy it openly now.

Uhhh I'll tag @bunniesofsteel @anistarrose @3hobbitsinatrenchcoat and anyone else who wants to do it, you can say I tagged you :)

[thebadgerclan]

Every Word Is True

Pairing: Severus Snape x reader

Requested by Pizza Anon

Summary: This is the first Valentine's Day Severus isn’t dreading...

A/N: I had to think of a limerick for this guys, I haven’t done that since 4th grade XD

This was the first year that Severus had not been dreading Valentine’s Day.  Every other year, he grit his teeth as everyone in the school showed their love for one another, quite obnoxiously, if you asked him.  But not this year.  This Valentine’s Day, Severus woke with you in his arms, resting your head on his chest as you slept.  A smile spread across his face.  You slowly stirred, stretching as you sat up.  

“Good morning, my love,” Severus said, his voice rough with sleep.  “Happy Valentine’s Day, Sev.”  “And to you, as well, angel.”  You kissed him, long and sweet and he rested his hands on your waist.  “Unfortunately,” you said, pulling away.  “We do have classes to teach.” You stood to dress and Severus groaned.  “What I wouldn’t give to spend the day in bed with you.”  When you emerged from the bathroom, you were in robes of a pale pink, your hair braided down your neck.  

“You,” Severus finally got out of bed.  “Are simply ethereal.”  You blushed and Severus pulled you in for another kiss.  “I love you, my darling.”  “And I love you.  Now, I really do have to go.”  You pecked his cheek before leaving the room.  Severus looked at the clock.  Breakfast wasn’t for another half hour.  What were you up to?

***

He arrived in his classroom to find a bouquet of 3 dozen red roses on his desk, with a note.  My beloved Severus, this is only one of many surprises I have planned for today.  Don’t hide these, the students will find out you have a heart eventually.  Yours, -Y/N.  He smiled and shifted the vase to the corner of his desk.  As predicted, the student’s mouths gaped when they saw the roses.  “Professor,” Granger asked.  “Who are those from?”  Severus did his best not to openly snarl at the girl.  

“They are from my fiance, Miss Granger.”  The class collectively gasped.   “No more questions about that, today, we’ll be brewing Amortentia.”  That seemed to shut them up.  After lecturing the dangers of this particular brew, Severus set the students in pairs as they began working.  Soon, the smell of the potion filled the room, to him, it was of you.  He smiled as he sat.  Not even Seamus setting fire to his books could dampen his mood.

When Severus returned to your rooms at the end of the day, you were sitting on the couch, a wrapped parcel in hand.  “This,” you stood, handing him the gift.  “Is for you.”  Severus sat and carefully unwrapped it.  It was a book, a hand bound book.  “Open it,” you urged.  He did so, and nearly burst into tears at what he saw.  

Severus, I know we’ve only known each other for a very short time, but I can’t help the attraction I feel to you.  I don’t care that you don’t think yourself handsome, I do.  There aren’t words enough tell you how beautiful I find you.  Severus Tobias Snape, you are amazing in so many ways, and I can only hope that you’ll trust me enough someday to let me tell you. -Y/N

“What are these?”  “Letters that I never sent to you.  I either never worked up the nerve or you beat me to it. Some of them were just for me.”  Severus continued reading.  Severus, Thank you for the wonderful afternoon.  It was exactly what I needed to get my mind off O.W.L prep.  I hope you know how much you mean to me.  I’d love to invite you to dinner next week at the Three Broomsticks, students should clear out by 7o’clock.  Thank you again.  Sincerely, -Y/N.

Severus, I can’t think of any word to describe the joy I felt when you asked me out today.  I’ve been wanting to do the same for weeks, but never worked up the courage.  I guess that’s why I wasn’t a Gryffindor.  I’m so looking forward to our date, I’m sure whatever you have planned for me will be amazing.  Yours, -Y/N.  

Severus, I love you, I love you, I love you.  There, I said it.  I’ve wanted to say it for so long, now, and now I have.  Well, if you ever read this, I’ll have really said it to you.  But this seemed easier for now.  Merlin, I love you, I love everything about you.  The way you look at me, the way you smile when you think no one’s looking, they way you kiss my hand when you leave.  I love you more than life itself, I love you.  Love (redundantly), -Y/N

Severus, I can tell something’s on your mind, you’re distant.  I know you don’t mean to be cold, but I won’t lie, it’s concerning.  Have I done something wrong?  Please, love, if I’ve done something to hurt you, please tell me.  I couldn’t live with myself if I’ve hurt you.  I love you.  Yours, -Y/N.

Severus, I haven’t taken off the ring for days!  I love you so much!  I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you!  You make me the happiest woman in the world, I hope you know that.  You’re asleep right now, next to me.  You just snuggled closer to me, I can’t tell you how much that warms my heart.  I love you eternally, Severus, I cannot wait to become Y/N Snape.  Love you more than anything, -The future Mrs. Snape.

Then, on the final page, 3 lines of text, a limerick.  My beloved Sev, Words enough do not exist, To express my love.  Pressed between the pages was a rose.  Severus knew immediately what it was; the rose he’d given you when he’d asked you to be his.  Tears flowed down his face.  “My love…”  You set the book on the table and settled yourself in his lap.  “I love you so much Severus, every word I wrote is true.”  He kissed you, holding you tight against him.  “What would I do without you, Y/N?”  You smiled against his lips.  “We will never know.”

[qm-vox]

Warlock Patron - The Mirror

Otherworldly Patron - the Mirror

You have made or created a pact with your reflection, or possibly with some manner of entity or society of which your reflection is merely representative; lore on the Mirror is frustratingly unclear, and the seeming inability of its embodiments (or citizens, or agents, or…) to clarify the matter is a source of ongoing frustration to researcher and warlock alike. Regardless, the power of your pact grants you a constant companion, as well as power over reflections.

Warlocks of the Mirror have a high incidence of being unclear about their pacts. Many don’t remember consciously making one, and often their reflections claim to not remember either. Compared to their driven peers they often come across as lost or adrift in the wider world, willing to use their newfound power to attain their goals but unable to fully set aside the nagging question of what happened, why, and who is benefitting from their status as free agents. More than one suffers from the ongoing belief that they are not the original person and are instead a reflection that traded places with a mortal from the Material Plane who must now serve as the reflection in their stead. Those few that have tried to test this through the use of reflective magics and powerful divinations have left behind accounts that could best be described as…

Interesting.

Mirror Features

Expanded Spell List:

The Mirror lets you choose from an expanded list of spells when you learn a warlock spells. The following spells are added to the warlock spell list for you.

Mirror Expanded Spells

1st - Disguise self, identify

2nd - Alter self, enlarge/reduce

3rd - Clairvoyance, slow

4th - Confusion, phantasmal killer

5th - Mislead, wall of force

Pale Imitation: At 1st level you gain the ability to reflect the techniques and results of magic used near you. When a spell with a level no greater than 1/2 your warlock level (rounded up) and a casting time of 1 action or less is cast by something other than you within 60 feet of you, you can spend your reaction to snare its reflection. You can then cast that spell as an action any time within the next minute, except that you do not expend a spell slot, and its duration is a number of rounds equal to your Charisma modifier (minimum 1) or the spell’s normal duration, whichever is lower. Instantaneous spells remain instantaneous, and you can maintain concentration on a spell that requires concentration for up to a number of rounds equal to your Charisma modifier (minimum 1).

Once you use this feature, you can’t use it again until you finish a short or long rest.

Living Reflection: Starting at 1st level, your reflection is sapient, opinionated, and somewhat free-willed. It has to stay in at least one reflective surface near you (if there are any), and while it does not have to agree with or even like you, it is seemingly bound to help you. You can ask your reflection’s advice to gain advantage on an Intelligence check. Once you gain advantage on an Intelligence check in this way, you can’t do so again until you finish a short or long rest, during which you must be in the presence of a reflective surface at least the size of hand mirror. In addition, you gain advantage on Wisdom (Perception) checks in environments where there is a large reflective surface (such as a floor-length mirror) or many smaller ones (such as a city street full of glass windows).

Breaking Mirror: Starting at 6th level you can draw on your pact with the Mirror to avenge harm against yourself. You can spend your reaction when you would suffer any amount of damage. If the source of that damage is a creature, that creature can rescind the damage; it is not dealt to you and no other effects of the damaging ability occur (such as damage to other creatures in its area of effect or poison). Otherwise, the source suffers damage equal to the amount dealt to you. 

Once you use this feature, you can’t use it again until you finish a short or long rest.

Restrain In Silver: Starting at 10th level, you have a subtle but powerful connection to the realms inside of mirrors at all times. As an action, you can dump unwanted sorceries from a creature or object within 30 feet onto its reflection instead. When you make this action, you gain understanding of all spells affecting that creature or object, as if you had identified their nature with an appropriate skill check. Choose any number of those spells with a duration shorter than permanent; they end, just as if they had reached the end of their duration.

You can take this action when you are paralyzed or otherwise unable to take actions, but if you do, you must target yourself with it. You cannot take this action again until you complete a short rest.

Erupt From Silver: Starting at 14th level you can release reflections of magic from the realm inside of mirrors that are as deadly and real as the originals. As an action, you crack open the subtle access you maintain to the realm inside mirrors for 1 minute. During this time, you automatically become aware of and identify all spells cast within 100 feet of you, though this ability gives you no special knowledge of their casters (including their location). Also during this time you can, ss a bonus action, cast any spell that has already been cast this round, without using a spell slot or expending material components. This spell is cast at your highest available spell level unless you choose to cast it at a lower valid level. You can only cast up to 1 spell this way during the duration of this ability.

Once you use this ability, you cannot do so again until you complete a long rest.

Cracks In The World - The Mirror In Your Campaign

“It is not unheard of, in this line of scholarship, for a researcher to act so. Certainly I was surprised when the learned Mister Narrows burned his notes and announced his retirement from the world of academia, and certainly I was let down to now be bereft of such pleasurable and well-paying employment. But...no. The detail that haunts me a-nights is when I fix, in my mind’s eye, the image of him hurling his tomes of planar lore onto the pyre.

Mister Narrows is not right-handed.”

- Journal of Ashlynn Monroe, research assistant (deceased)

Archaic texts that refer to it, infrequent as they are, call it the Plane of Mirrors, or perhaps the Demi-Plane of Mirrors. The warlocks that enter into strange and ill-understood bargains with it (or its denizens, or their own reflections, to name just a few potential candidates holding the other side of a leash they can’t see) often simply call it the Mirror. Adventuring scholars, having learned caution in their speech and writing, circle around the question with ‘the realm inside mirrors’, a description with neither name nor insult.

When you can pin down one of its inhabitants and force them to talk, they call it Silver.

Answers about the realm inside mirrors are elusive. Accounts of travel to it are rare enough - it is not every day one meets a spellcaster who can travel the Astral Plane, and rarer still that you can convince one to go wandering into an unknown plane - and contain such wildly varied information that they are either contradictory or indicate that the realm inside mirrors is vast indeed. If it is a demiplane then logically it should be located inside of the Ethereal Plane, but that can’t be quite right: mirror-magic has been observed to work in the Outer Planes, where the Ethereal does not touch or hold sway. Does it connect to mirrors and reflective surfaces? There’s an argument that says yes and points to the sway of mirrors in spells like scrying and the prevalence of magical reflective surfaces. More cynical scholars point out that the average humanoid eyeball is reflective and express doubt that the endless hordes of the living carry planar portals wedged into their skulls.

What is known is that the realm inside mirrors is inhabited. These inhabitants sometimes have traffic with the Prime Material Plane - with increasing frequency, in the form of being bound up in pacts with warlocks. What, precisely, they get out of these relationships is not always clear. Certainly a few steal the lives of Material denizens, replacing them and generally attempting to destroy all evidence that they are not the original. These are the citizens of Silver who get caught. Others simply slip away, becoming the seeming twin of an ‘original’ who now no longer appears in reflective surfaces. 

Magic travels into and out of Silver very easily. Spells cast in places that have access to the realm inside mirrors seemingly ‘echo’ there, where mirror-warlocks - and its natives - can take advantage of them. They conform to the local rules of magic - using the Weave or Shadow Weave on Toril, being subject to antimagic fields or altered by planar traits, and the like - even when re-cast or reflected, but their users do display odd traits. They might speak verbal components in someone else’s voice, perform somatic components ‘backwards’ or in different orders; their spellcasting might display hallmarks of teachers they never had, or cultures to which they do not belong. Raw mirror-magic often manifests as cracks, rents in reality through which a terrible light shines. Little is written about this light; journal entries that mention it tend to be followed by suicide notes, though for all of that its appearances are rarely associated with great acts of devastation or catastrophe. Often it is little more, or less, than that someone pushed a student of Silver too far.

If you are a player looking to create a warlock whose patron is the Mirror, consider the following questions:

What Do You Remember? Many warlocks of the Mirror have no idea how they forged their pact, and quite a few are fuzzy even on the details. What do you know? Why were you seeking magical power? Do you still want to accomplish that goal now that you have it?

Do You Get On With Your Reflection? Like it or not - and quite a few warlocks don’t like it at all - you now have a permanent companion in the form of your own reflection. What is that relationship like? Why? Would you trade places with your reflection if you could? How would you react to them asking for that same favor?

Do You Have Any Theories? Are you invested in the mystery of Silver? Do you wonder at why mirrors are such expensive and sought-after status symbols, and try to draw connections to the battered tools adventurers learn to obsessively use? Do you wonder at why it seems the books you surely learned your pact from are now gone, or have you decided you’d rather not know? How much do you talk about what you think your patron is?

If you are a dungeon master looking to incorporate the Mirror into your campaign’s story, you have some decisions to make. Here’s some things to consider:

What Is The Mirror? Older editions of Dungeons & Dragons have a Plane of Mirrors, which may have even been the retreat of the original exemplars of neutrality whose names have passed into obscurity. Is Silver that plane, changed with the times? Is it perhaps a demiplane on the edge of the Plane of Shadow, where the light of the Positive Energy Plane streaks through like water on the side of a pitcher, picking up some of Shadow’s nature on the way? Could it be something that is not real, yet yearns to be? Or is Silver the wrong way of thinking about it entirely, and the mirrors connect to something stranger; a house with no walls that contains leaking Glory, perhaps, or a prison-world left over from the last cycle of creation that houses souls that no longer remember how to have bodies?

Warped Reflections. No mirror reflects the world as it truly, perfectly is. When using themes of mirrors and reflections in your campaigns, think about how they can be wrong. Items like the mirror of opposition provide one example, reflecting an equal and opposite version of a person, but there are other ways to make something wrong. The town drunk goes clean overnight; he was a demon in his cups, quick with his fists, and now it’s like he’d never touched a bottle. A book written backwards is held up to a mirror, but the text in the reflection is in another language entirely. The warlock’s hand mirror shows her with subtly different features - later, she realizes they’re similar to the woman her father almost married, but never did. Find ways to emphasize, then distort, the reflections in your game.

What Are The Stakes? Silver does not have to be a grand mystery, though it could be. It can be as small as one escaped denizen who won’t go back, and it could be as large as an imminent shift in the nature of this Prime Material Plane. Once you set your stakes, stick to them. One advantage to starting with smaller stakes is that if your players develop an interest in the realm inside mirrors, you can always tell a new story about it; consider starting small if you want to introduce this concept to your campaign.

I hope you enjoyed this small addition to your game! Comments and critique are welcome.

[crash-cinematic-universe]

Peter Maximoff is completely, utterly, and undoubtedly in love

pairing: Peter Maximoff/fem!bassist!reader

Summary: Peter had no idea a simple mission would change his life forever, He also had no idea how much he liked the bass guitar.

notes: fuck it. a series because I’m in love with peter maximoff

warnings: language, peter is a cute little bitch

________________________________________________________________  

        Peter knew the song even before he stepped inside the crowded bar, the bassline immediately ringing a bell in his mind. He smirked before pushing the doors open. 

        “That song,” he said, catching the attention of Hank who was standing close beside him. “It’s one of my favorites; Money by Pink Floyd.” Peter’s attention is turned to the bassist of the band on stage. His mouth goes dry, his eyes widening once the spotlight hits her. She looks ethereal in the stage lights, her eyes closed as her hands pluck the strings of her bass. She’s gorgeous, the look of concentration on her face going straight to Peter’s heart. He’s awestruck, and Hank notices.

        “Peter,” he calls, trying to catch the young man’s eyes. He fails. “Peter,” he calls again, snapping his associate out of his trance. “We’re here to find the mutant and bring them to Charles, we shouldn’t get” he pauses to glance at the bassist, “distracted.” 

        “I’m not distracted, Hank, I’m super professional and always have my eyes on the prize.” he says, the smug sarcasm dripping from his voice. The band switched from Money to Barracuda. He fought the urge to look at the bassist again. Hank sees his restraint and smirks.

        “Peter, if we find the mutant fast enough you might have a chance to meet her.” Hank turns away from the stage to order a drink. “Ya know, Charles said the mutant would be inconspicuous and well-hidden, so keep your eyes peeled.”

        “Uh, Hank,” Peter said, his voice uncertain. “I think I found the mutant.” Hank whips around and sees the bassist floating a foot above ground, her eyes shut in concentration. Her eyes snap open, and the irises are glowing a shimmering silver, someone in the crowd shouts, ‘mutant scum!’ and she lands on the ground. The young woman shares a look with her band mates as the bartender calls the police. The bassist nods, and the guitarist gives a loud strum of her instrument. The bassist’s eyes glow again and she seems to convert the sound to energy, pushing away the few audience members that tried to charge the stage. The band makes a break for the back door, the guitarist turning continuously producing sound that the bassist uses to create a barrier between the now wild crowd. 

        Peter quickly grabs Hank and runs out back, watching as the group jumps into an old van. They’re laughing, like this was a fun endeavor for them. Peter speeds into the back silently, trying desperately to duck behind the seats. Their instruments provide good cover-- at least good enough for now.

       “Holy shit, Y/n, that was insane!” the guitarist laughs. The bassist smiles. 

        “I didn’t even realize I was doing it, but hey, that's a helluva way to end our last performance.” the bassist speaks. Her name is Y/n. A pretty name for a pretty girl. The van is quiet for a minute before someone speaks up.  

        “So, Y/n, a couple cute faces in the crowd, huh?” the drummer teases. 

        “Oh, shut it, Danny, just because you can read minds doesn’t mean you know anything about me.” Y/n snaps playfully, a bashful blush on her face. It’s cute.

        “I might not know much, but you were thinkin’ pretty loud back there. Hey, I’m not judging, he was pretty cute. His hair was weird, but he was cute.” Danny smirks. 

        “Looks like you got some competition, Y/n” the guitarist retorts jokingly.

        “I’d never make a move, Cassie,” Danny says cooly, “He’s not my type, and Y/n called mental dibs on the silver cutie. Plus, he was totally into you too, his jaw practically dropped when he saw you.”

        “He was probably looking at Cassie,” Y/n defends, the blush lingering on her face.

        “I hope not,” Cassie sighs, “I’m tired of explaining my sexuality to people; asexual and aromantic, it’s not hard to understand.”

        “His thoughts were deafening, he was definitely checking out Y/n, but don’t worry. He wasn’t being creepy like the other guys usually are.” Danny smiles. “The guy with the weird hair was completely smitten, I think.”

        ‘Are they talking about me?’ Peter thinks. ‘My hair isn’t weird.’

        “It is,” Danny says suddenly. “It’s also weird that you’ve been hiding this whole time. C’mon out man, we won’t bite.” Peter slowly sits up, his head peeking out from behind the seats. No one seems shocked, besides the singer, who’s driving.

        “You’re like us, right?” Cassie asks. “A mutant?” 

        “Yeah,” Peter says hesitantly. “I, uh, came with a friend. We were looking for her,” he points at Y/n, “we didn’t know you were all mutants.” 

        “Charlie isn’t,” Y/n says, gesturing to the driver. “They’re just a killer vocalist.” Her voice is like music to Peter’s ears, her movements fluid and graceful and wonderful and Peter realizes that Danny was right. He was completely smitten with a beautiful stranger. Peter glances up and realizes that Danny was smirking at him before looking at Y/n once again.

        “Where’s your hot friend?” Danny asks, and Peter realizes he left Hank at the bar. Alone. 

        “Oh god,” Peter laughs slightly, “I left him at the bar. He’s… not very conspicuous.” 

        “You’re telling me,” Danny guffaws, “I almost lost control of my sticks once I saw him.” 

        “That’s not the only stick you lost control of,” Y/n mumbles and the van bursts out in thunderous laughter; including Peter. Y/n is oddly proud; she thinks his laugh is cute. Once the laughter died down, the bassist spoke again. “Why were you looking for me? I didn’t break any laws, did I?” Danny scoffs. “I didn’t break any more laws, did I?” 

        “No,” Peter says. He can’t believe he’s actually talking to her. And she’s talking back to him. And he feels like he’s going to pass out. “There’s a school in New York full of mutants. The headmaster got some info on you; he thought you’d be a valuable student to have. We came to ask if you’d be interested, but since all of you are mutants, all of you can come.” 

        Y/n glances at Danny. 

        “He’s telling the truth,” the drummer says. 

        “I’m in.” Y/n agrees without so much as a question. The band looks shocked. “Oh come on, where else would I go? We can’t live in this shithole forever, and just knowing that there’s a place where we’d be safe and accepted is enough for me.” Peter’s heart basically fucking explodes in his chest and he silently thanks the cosmic forces that she agreed. Danny hesitates before speaking. 

        “I’m in too. Y/n and I have been best friends since 4th grade, I’m not ditching you now. Plus, I have a bet to win” Danny smirks at Y/n before turning to Cassie. 

       “I don’t know…” she trails off, and Y/n silently begs her. Her eyes plead silently and Peter has a moment to study her features closely. She has a nose piercing and a plethora of ear piercings, her hair had streaks of wild colors in it and her eyeliner was smudged. One thought ran through his head constantly: she’s amazing. “Alright, let's do it!” Cassie agrees. Before anyone has a chance to ask Charlie, they speak up.

        “I can’t.” The van is silent. “You all know it. I just… won’t belong. Even if I wanted to go, I wouldn’t be able to.” Danny nods knowingly. 

        “You have a family to tend to, it wouldn’t be fair to steal you away--” Y/n shoots him a look. “-- again” The group laughs again, and the mood lightens. Suddenly, Y/n speaks up.

        “Hey Silver, what’s the school’s policy on small animals?” Danny and Cassie’s faces flash with realization, and the three of them shout in unison, “SEYMOUR THE SECOND!” 

        “Who?” Peter asks, completely confused. 

        “The light of my life, my pride and joy, my soulmate, my one true love...” Y/n rambles, and Peter’s heart drops with every word. She’s not single. “... my pet ferret.” oh. 

        “I’m sure Charles would make an exception for… Seymour.” Peter says hesitantly. “If not, I can always hide him for you”

        “Really? You’re the best, silver!” Y/n playfully punches him on the shoulder and Peter practically dies on the spot. 

        “Uh, what’s your name?” Cassie asks suddenly, and the gang realizes they’d been addressing him as ‘silver’ the entire time. “I’m assuming your name isn’t your hair color.”

        Peter chuckles, “No, my name is Peter, Peter Maximoff. My friend back at the bar is named Hank. Hank McCoy.”

        “Hank McCoy, hot damn, isn’t that a name.” Danny jokes. Y/n giggles at his antics, and the sound alone makes his heart skip.

        “So, you’re a telepath, you can manipulate sound, what about you?” Peter inquires, looking towards Cassie.

        “I can see the future.” Cassie says nonchalantly.

        “And you, Silver? What can you do?” Y/n asks, scooting a little closer to him.

        “Uh, I’m, uh, fast.” Peter smiles at the young woman's face lights up.

        “Oh god, here we go,” Danny groans despite the smile on his face.

        “You have super speed?” Y/n exclaims, her eyes scanning him up and down. “Do you have heat resistance? You probably also have some form of super strength, right? Depending on what you can do you could also have the ability to manipulate gravity and inertia, oh my god you’re so cool!” 

        At this point, everyone noticed the way Peter’s face flushed and the way his pupils dilated and the way his cheeky grin only grew when Y/n would gush over his mutation. Danny couldn’t help but smile at Y/n’s thoughts, her mind buzzing with admiration for the silver boy who snuck onto their van.

        The vehicle rolls to a stop and Charlie barely has enough time to unlock the van before Hank bursts in, grabbing Peter by the collar and pulling him out. Hank was blue again, and completely enraged. 

        “Are you insane!?” Hank shouts at the boy, now on the ground. “She could have killed you! Charles said the mutant was unpredictable and dangerous, you can’t just--” Peter cuts him off.

        “She’s not dangerous. She’s strong, sure, but not dangerous. If she wanted to kill me she would have, and so would Danny and Cassie and, hell, even Charlie.” Y/n climbed out the van and walked over to Hank, sticking out her hand.

        “Y/n L/n,” she grins, “that’s Danny Rodriguez and Cassie Mann, behind them is Charlie S’venstob.” Hank hesitates before shaking her hand, glancing over at the van full of young adults. Danny winks at him.

        “I’m not gonna kill Silver, or you, or anyone else, I can assure you that. He was telling us about a school, a place where mutants are welcome and accepted and embraced. We want in.” Hank turns to Peter, who is once again gazing at Y/n with a love struck film over his eyes. 

        “Well, uh, we were only looking for one mutant, but I’m sure Charles can accommodate three more.” Hank says, his voice unsure.

        “Two more,” Charlie says. “I’m not a mutant, and even if I was, I got a wife and a kid.”

        “Well, then, two more. We should go now, we’re already incredibly off schedule.” Hank says, flustered and confused and tired. The group returns to Charlie, wishing them a teary goodbye. Hank walks over to Peter as they all say farewell.

        “Peter, you just met her, you can’t go too deep too fast.” Hank warns. Peter just smiles a far away smile, his eyes trained on the mutant as she hugs Charlie.

        “Too late.”