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#of the lion and the unicorn absolutely. dESTROYED me
polarsirens · 3 years
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the lion / the unicorn
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excuseme-youpretty · 4 years
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BTS Reaction ~ Caught by their child
Anonymous asked:
Hello, can I please request how all the members react to your child walking in in you when your making out or being intimate.🥰
All credits for the gifs go to the original owners/makers.
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Genre: Fluff / Crack. Slight smut.
Rating: M
Word Count: 575 - 980
Warnings: Heavy allusions to sex but nothing too graphic!
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Kim Seokjin
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It is no secret that Seokjin always prefers to perform his culinary magic underneath the rhythmic guidance of whatever cheesy pop song happens to illuminate his beloved sticker-slathered radio. Tonight's offering? Britney Spears. 
As you make your approach from behind, you can hear your husband synchronize the sharp click of his knife tearing through colorful fresh vegetables with the admission that oops, Britney has indeed done it once again, and can't help but to chuckle.
Your arms enslave his midsection as you press your lips into the smooth strip of velvet skin at the nape of his neck. His hands hesitate for a minute only; just long enough for an enthralled grin to decorate his face.
"Well hello, babe. Fancy seeing you here."
Seokjin is careful to peel away the latex of his gloves before he turns, cradling both of your cheeks within his palms as he pulls you forward. His lips just barely brush across your own.
"And where is our little lovebug right now?"
You sigh contently, thumbing over the solidity of his abdomen through his flour-speckled shirt. 
"She's currently captivated by the wonderful adventures of Mickey Mouse's Clubhouse. You know how she gets… she could be watching for hours."
"Hours, you say?" Seokjin smirks, applying just enough pressure on your bottom lip so that he may autograph a signature heart across your flesh with his tongue. "Well, that gives me just enough time to indulge on a craving I've been having…"
Seokjin's palms are exceptionally warm where they slip across the small of your back, thumbs painting intricate semi-circles over the elastic waistband of your cotton shorts before they delve even lower. He palms across your outer thigh with the same delicacy he would afford kneading an enriched dough.
You can't help but to release a small, perfectly clipped exhale of pure bliss.
"Aren't you worried that you will spoil your appetite, Jinnie?"
Seokjin's digits move rapidly. They slot underneath your thighs in order to aid in twisting your body that bit closer, the tip of his nose skimming across your fluttering pulse point.
"On the contrary. I consider this to be an appetiser; an Amuse-bouche if you will." 
Seokjin's velour lips weave a haphazard pathway down between your collarbones, clinging to a particular cluster of nerves that he is certain will nudge you toward delirium. 
"And I happen to find my wife very amuse-ing."
He lifts your thigh slowly, shifting your leg until it wraps securely around his waist, and begins to lift you up onto the counter-
"Eomma!" Your daughter cries, her voice as syrupy-sweet and innocent as birdsong. 
Her little feet pad triumphantly across the kitchen tile, her unicorn slippers squeaking with every fortified step. 
"Eomma, you missin' d'best bits!"
Seokjin is swift to back away from you, dropping your leg as though your flesh had transformed to molten lava and seared his palm. His back hits the edge of the sink with a rather comical thud, ironically synchronized with the orchestral stab of The Backstreet Boys announcing - once again - that they are back.
You have been left rather uncoordinated yourself, heat pouring into your stomach with all of the cloying stickiness of a candy-coated toffee apple.
"Sorry, darling. Eomma will be right there, okay? I was just asking Appa if he needed any help with dinner."
Your daughter's eyes are large and round and so similar to her Father's own that it is almost frightening; they contain an abundance of constellations and more knowledge than should be capable of someone her age. 
Her bottom lip protrudes in thought, plump and ever so slightly discolored from slurping on grape juice all afternoon. It only takes a minute before she nods, seemingly satisfied with your excuse.
"Okai, Eomma. But huwwy!"
Taking off in a carefree, infantile sprint, with her slippers squawk-squeaking all the way, you are finally left alone with your husband once again.
"Rain check?" You ask once your heartbeat has settled back into a reasonable rhythm. 
Seokjin brushes his thumb underneath your jawline, swiping over the small cluster of ginger-hued freckles which kiss your skin. He tips your face skyward, pressing a smattering of kisses back and forth over your satine cheekbones.
"Rain check. No appetisers tonight, babe."
A brief flicker of tanzanite temptation illuminates your husband's vision, one of his hands slipping down to rest almost tauntingly around your throat.
"I'll just have to have you for dessert instead."
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Min Yoongi
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Min Yoongi has always considered himself to be a being with exceptional hearing. He can detect even the smallest alteration in pitch, can recognise when an arrangement requires more volume or bass or vocal power, and can easily complete a portfolio of compositions in a single afternoon.
And yet, his outstanding hearing is so acute that he almost misses the unmistakable sound of his studio's pass code being punched in.
"Yoongi?" You breathe quietly, treading lightly lest you shatter the creative bubble that your husband is famous for cocooning himself within. 
Yoongi pivots slowly in his chair, swivelling around until he can face you fully. Light touches his eyes with the intensity of several beautifully bobbing fireflies. 
"What're you doing here, sweetheart?" He chirrups, sparing a brief glance toward his wristwatch. "I thought the kids and I were going to pick you up from work today?"
Yoongi's arms open out toward you, encouraging you to burrow into his lap without much need for communication. 
You drape over his thighs as though you were pouring yourself into the very mould of your husband, situating yourself into all of the nooks and crannies you have claimed ownership over since the dawn of your relationship. 
"Well, I finished early." You place an abundance of soft, featherweight kisses along the underside of Yoongi's razor-sharp jawline; savouring the fragrant tang of cologne which glistens like diamonds upon his skin. "Which means we just so happen to have some alone time before the twins get dropped off. Just think of the possibilities~"
No more than a moment after your syllables have been fully formulated does Yoongi wrap his opalescent fingertips around the nape of your neck and pull you close. 
He kisses you deeply, presses the very tips of his cuspids into your bottom lip and lalves over the succulent indents with the gloss of his tongue until he can feel you shudder against him.
Your hands find their way into his hair with very little navigation. Sighing blissfully, you rake your nails over his scalp as though you were illustrating your initials in vibrant saffron sands; leaving your mark in the form of several exhilarated goosebumps.
"I love you." You whine, tipping your head back just far enough to provide enough room for Yoongi to suck several small candy wrappers into your throat.
"You too, sweetheart."
Yoongi's palms bracket over the swell of your jeans, each digit slipping one by one into the stitching of your back pockets so that he can grab your fleshy behind by the fistful. 
He guides you forward, setting a slow but deliberate pace as you work in tandem with each other to feel-
This time, there is no mistaking the distinct sound of Yoongi's pass code being punched in.
You only just manage to pry yourself from your husband's lap by the time that his studio door bursts open. 
You hear your twins before you see them; a cornucopia of fluorescent overalls and mismatched trainers and a seemingly unfathomable energy which completely belies their own paternity. 
"Eomma!" Your son cries, the latter syllable smothered by the sensation of him excitedly clinging to your calf. "You're here!"
"Yes baby, Eomma is here!"
Beside you, your daughter makes quick work of climbing all over Yoongi's torso. Her hyperactive cackles seem to reverberate throughout the studio walls as she runs her chubby hands all over Yoongi's silver-toned hair; worsening the mess your own digits had made not five minutes before.
"Appa is a lion! Raaaawr! Look Unki NamNam!"
Lifting your son into your arms, you spare a glance over to the man in question and internally curse Namjoon's uncanny ability to destroy even a moment of impromptu passion. 
"Sorry I'm early." Namjoon sighs, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck.
He can't seem to meet your eye.
But as you glance over toward Yoongi, making sure to nod artificially every so often as though to show feigned interest in the tall tales that your twins are spinning, you are met with a pair of dark, bottomless irises which sparkle, bubble and pop with the promise of what's to come as soon as you are protected by the coverage of twilight.
Yoongi definitely doesn't need exceptional hearing to know that your heart is absolutely beating out of your chest.
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Jung Hoseok
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On days like these it is often hard to determine what has your head spinning faster; the sensation of Hoseok twirling you under his arm or the reverberation of music pulsing like gunpowder throughout your veins. 
Realistically, you should have known that your dance rehearsal was in jeopardy the second that Hobi's phone had diverted away from the relay of his own voice and opted instead to play Sistar's Touch My Body; your husband's not-so-hidden vice.
After grinning wildly and gyrating his body back and forth to the swish-swish dance of the song, he had pulled you in close in order to innocently mouth the lyrics against your cheek. 
Fortunately, you had always been a stickler for following the rules. 
And touching Hobi's body has always been your favourite pastime activity.
Your fingertips had found purchase upon the ridge of his collarbones, thumbs falling into the crease of his deliciously sweaty skin before shifting lower. Your lips had painted his Adam's apple with precision, tasting the sherbet of his aftershave and the natural essence of Hoseok.
Now your lips are plump and swollen from the feverish trap of his uncoordinated kisses.
He has you pinned up against one of the mirrored walls by his pelvis, the tip of his tongue writing soulful soliloquies into your skin until you glow with poorly contained adoration. 
"Mm, Hobi. Calm down~" You sigh, arching up into the pressure of Hoseok's teeth as they paint faint crescent-shaped halos in the flesh of your earlobe.
Hoseok shifts his fingertips around your wrists, effectively binding them in a ribbon of calluses and articulation as he traps them up over your head.
"I can't help it, honey. You know what you do to me, don't you?"
"I'd have a guess, but I'd say that the evidence is pretty clear."
Certainly, with how Hoseok presses against you, he leaves very little to the imagination. 
"A guess? Well, Maybe I'm not making myself clear enough, then…"
Using his unpreoccupied hand, Hoseok dips the faintest whisper of his fingertips into his mouth in order to get them appropriately wet. He then kicks your ankles apart, situating his thigh in place between your quivering knees. 
It does not take a genius to recognize the unbridled gallop of small, toddling feet racing through narrow linoleum hallways. Nor does it require much effort to deduct that those very footsteps and the loud, high-spirited giggles which precede them can only belong to your son. 
The studio door swings open with all the momentum of a party popper being pulled taut. Only instead of confetti you are rewarded by the sight of your son's beautifully plump rosy cheeks and his gap-toothed grin.
"Appa~!"
Hoseok turns just in time to drop to his knees and scoop your toddler up into his arms, the tone of his voice shifting from leather and velvet into something bubbling and bright.
"There's my little Hapi!" Hobi coos, nuzzling into your son's soft mousy hair. "Did you have a good day with Uncle Kookie?"
"Uh-huh! Appa, you look so silly! You wearing Eomma's lips!" 
Hoseok lifts his thumb to swipe it over his bottom lip, gathering the fluorescent remnants of your transferred lipstick which lingers there.
"Yes I am." Hobi teases. "Do you want some? Mwah~"
It takes half a second before your son shrieks in protest, immediately sprinting away from your husband's chaotic influence. Hoseok chases after him with pursed lips, making outrageously exaggerated smacking noises during his pursuit. 
Sighing softly, you lean all of your body weight on the mirror behind you and fan your face with your palm in an attempt to cool your rapidly rising body temperature. 
"You're blushing awfully hard." Jeongguk acknowledges as he settles in beside you. 
"Dance rehearsals. Worked up quite a sweat."
"Oh, I bet. You want me to keep him out a little later next time?"
Your teeth find purchase on the crease of your bottom lip, a residual sting prickling upon your flesh from how intensely you had been kissed mere minutes before. Your pulse continues to fizzle and pop and jump underneath your skin; a firework ready to burst.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
You watch as Hoseok finally catches up to your squealing son. He lifts him effortlessly, pressing kiss after kiss over his rotund cheeks and your heart absolutely sings. How did you get so lucky?
And yet, as Hobi tucks your child carefully underneath his chin, you don't miss the way that his mouth dances around a simple word inundated with promise.
'Later.'
You can't wait to see what 'choreography' piece Hoseok will teach you next.
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Kim Namjoon
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There is something to be said about the sweetness of Namjoon's kisses during nightfall, when the moon is pitched high over Seoul's skyline and there is little need for urgency. 
Without the influence of convoluted phone calls or frequented business meetings, it is almost as though your husband has been impassioned anew.
His kisses always start off deceptively slow, the petal pink tip of his tongue wicking across your bottom lip like butter gliding over hot toast. He rests his palms against your crimson-hued cheeks, guiding you that bit closer to his body as your bedsheets rustle down around your hips akin to a tambourine being jostled. 
"I love you." Namjoon sighs, rotating his body so that you fall to a collapse against his exposed torso.
Your fingertips splay against his flushed skin as though seeking out purchase, eager to aid in the transition of your rolling hips. 
"I love you more." 
Burning with vibrant adoration, you can feel your stomach positively froth with frenzied butterflies. Your lips lather a steady stream of kisses down between Namjoon's pectoral muscles, pausing just millimeters below his ribcage where you sink your teeth ever so gently into his skin, determined to leave a mark which will last for days to come. 
"And now I'm going to prove just how much I-" 
The sound of your daughter's shrill, waterlogged sobs as they carry through from her nursery and into your bedroom is stark and corrosive; a bolt of lightning which strikes through your sternum with the intensity of blunt nails on a chalkboard. 
As she tumbles into your bedroom, raven hair plastered to her cheeks by way of her seemingly limitless tears, and her tiny hands balled into fists where they cling to her beloved Koya plushie, you are quick to spring from your bed in order to gather her up into your arms.
"Oh sweetheart! What's wrong?"
Burying her reddened nose into your neck, your daughter splutters through her words.
"D'eres a monsta under m'bed! He's big n'mean and.. and scawy!!"
"A monster, huh?" 
After some careful readjustments, Namjoon climbs out of bed to join your side. He runs his hands affectionately over your daughter's swollen cheeks, clearing the hair away from her eyes. 
"Well, I'd like to have words with this so-called Monster. Let him know that he's messing with The Rap Monster and his beautiful little Princess. We'll see how mean and scary he is then!"
You each take one of your daughter's petite hands, being mindful of Koya’s unshakable presence, and inflate your chests into plates of pseudo armor as you lead her back into her nursery. 
It takes less than a minute for Namjoon to scare away the fictional threat, adding just an ounce of parental gravel to his words for extra emphasis. 
And it takes even less time for your adorable puffy-eyed princess to convince you to stay in bed with her until she feels safe once again.
With both you and Namjoon planted firmly on either side of your toddler's tiny frame, and the sensation of your fingers combing gently through the small tufts of her hair, she finds sleep easily. 
"So…" You whisper, just loud enough for Namjoon to hear over your daughter's infantile snores. "You're a monster, are you?"
Despite the impenetrable darkness of your daughter's room, broken up only by the small heart-shaped night light which twinkles beside her bed, you can clearly see your husband's fiendish smirk.
"Just wait - I'll show you later."
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Park Jimin
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Two years.
You have been married to Park Jimin for two whole years. 
And in that time you have seen him at his best, with a rhinestone microphone held in place between his dainty fingers and a light sheen of sweat glittering against his brow. You have also seen him at his worst, when thick black bags sit underneath his sunken eyes and sleep is a distant memory. 
You know your husband inside and out; his flaws (or lack thereof) and his many merits.
Which is why you should have known that his suggestion of an impromptu movie night was nothing more than a ruse to have you exactly where he wanted you; draped across his lap on the couch and purring every time his lips brush against a weak spot on your neck. 
"Shh, darling. Not so loud." Jimin teases, already moving to run the tip of his tongue along the underside of your jaw. 
Your fingernails dig into Jimin's biceps from how tightly you grasp at him, leaving small  moon-shaped welts in your wake which somehow pale in comparison to the roses he is currently embossing into your skin.
"You're a cruel man, Park Jimin."
"So I've been told. C'mere."
Maneuvering his hands underneath the blanket which he had draped over your shoulders in order to preserve your modesty, Jimin clasps at your hips and pulls you that bit closer to him. 
"You're so beautiful." He sighs, swiping his thumb over your bejewelled lips.
For a moment he simply stares at you, admiring the cinnamon flush of your cheeks and the way in which you seem to flutter with every poorly managed breath; his influence evident.
Unwilling to lose this unspoken game you are playing, you up the ante by bearing your hips down against Jimin's own and push your fingertips through his bubblegum pink locks until he hums with bliss.
"Now who's the cruel one, darling?"
Before you can answer, the sound of your son's hiccuping whimpers resonates from inside his nearby bedroom. 
"Appa! Eomma!"
Throwing the blanket off your shoulders, you are quick to rise from Jimin's lap, not missing the urgent way in which he grabs the fleece in question and places it over the space you had once occupied.
Your son darts into the room with a speed which belies his small stature, falling into your arms with his bottom lip quivering and his paw print pyjamas torn at the knee. 
"Hey, easy! What happened?"
Your son rubs furiously at his damp eyes, making small but urgent grabby-hands toward his Father. Jimin reaches over to rub affectionately at tiny knuckles.
"Twipped. Was thirsty and twipped!"
He points adamantly at the small red welt which glows against the pale skin of his knee, his entire body shaking with barely contained sobs.
"Aw, you poor thing." Jimin consoles, his own lower lip protruding in a manner which reflects your toddler's pout exactly. "Eomma, our little Tiny got himself a booboo."
"So I see. You definitely have your Father's clumsiness trait, hm?" 
Careful to avoid hurting him, you place a gentle kiss against the affected area.
"There we go. Good as new. Now, let's go get you a bandaid, okay?"
"Iwonman?"
"Of course! An Ironman bandaid for my little superhero."
As you lift your son with the intent of carrying him into the bathroom to patch up his battle scar, he makes a small whining noise and reaches for Jimin once again.
"Appa? You come too?"
You watch as your husband's face somehow darkens in hue. His ears burn scarlet-hot, beads of sweat stippled like pearls across his clavicle. He glances between you, your son, and the blanket currently concealing his hips.
"Uhh-"
"Appa will join us in a minute, baby. He's just gonna clean up first. Right, Appa?"
Jimin nods enthusiastically. "Right! I'll be there in a minute, Tiny. Promise."
Seemingly satisfied with his answer, your son turns to rub his cheek into your chest, already changing the subject to an unusual dream he had earlier in the evening.
Briefly, you can see the relief flash in Jimin's eyes as he collapses back onto the couch. He bites his bottom lip, mouthing a brief word of thanks toward you.
You blow him a kiss in response, not missing the way that Jimin pushes his fingers back through his hair to fix the mess you had made. His eyes briefly sparkle with something oh so familiar; something salacious.
After two years, you can be certain that you know your husband well enough to guarantee that your little game of cat and mouse is far from over. 
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Kim Taehyung
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When Taehyung loses himself to his illustrations he is always completely silent. 
His lips form a pursed rosette of pure concentration, brows furrowed low across his forehead, and his pinkie finger develops a small but temporary tick every time he pauses to load his paintbrush with a new pigment.
He is so silent, in fact, that the only sound you can hear on your approach toward his office is that of novelty ice cubes clinking back and forth within the glass of freshly poured lemonade you prepared for him.
Knocking politely on the door to alert him to your presence, you can only watch in awe as Taehyung dabs a bead of sweat from his brow, his fingertips stained shades of periwinkle and amaranth. 
He stipples another dollop of paint onto his canvas, brushing back and forth in broad strokes in order to heighten the saturation of a particular petal cluster.
"Hey, you." You hum contentedly, placing the glass of lemonade down on Taehyung's desk. "I thought you could use a drink."
"Thank you, Jagiya. That's very kind of you."
Placing his paintbrush down into a pot of discolored water to soak, Taehyung turns in his chair to face you. He reaches his arms up overhead and stretches until his shoulders give a rather satisfying pop and then reaches out toward you, guiding you into his lap.
His large palms stroke along the individual notches of your spine, touching you with the same care he would afford a piece of fine, antique china. The tip of his nose nestles against yours for a moment, wading back and forth before he uses the cool compress of his thumb to elevate your chin.
"Look at you. So beautiful; my muse."
Your husband's words flutter about inside your abdomen like dispersed dandelion seeds; soft and aerated and tickling you in all the right ways. 
He kisses you softly, deeply, the tip of his tongue tracing whimsical patterns across every dip and divot of your lower lip as though he has found his new favourite canvas; a magnum opus all wrapped up in a beautiful wife-shaped bow. 
You can feel every single brush and stroke of his tongue as he kisses you, somehow both cool and hot at the same time, until you are absolutely incandescent with hue and color.
Taehyung shifts until you are comfortably straddling both of his hips. His calloused thumbs knead at the nape of your neck until goosebumps sprinkle like powdered sugar upon your skin. 
With your husband's outrageously long fingertips combing through your hair, you find yourself clasping onto the crisp collar of his shirt simply to keep yourself afloat. 
You trace the blunt curvature of your nail against his pulse point, doodling a small asymmetric heart on his gilded skin which quickly dissipates when his blood begins to flow southward.
"You taste so sweet, Jagi." Taehyung remarks once your mouths finally separate, savouring the numb tingling sensation which busies his tongue.
"Not as sweet as you do, Taehyungie."
You catch your teeth against your husband's earlobe, ever so carefully guiding the steel loop of his piercing into your mouth. Taehyung's torso seems to reverberate when he mewls, his every breath pitched by anticipation as you guide your hands lower and lower and-
Yeontan darts into Taehyung's office with such gleeful acceleration that you almost leap out of your skin. 
He yips merrily, a petite ball of downy-soft fur flanked by your shrieking daughter and her tiny outstretched fingertips. 
"TanTan!" She squeals, chasing Yeontan with reckless abandon.
Sighing softly, you place a small apologetic kiss to Taehyung’s nose and climb to your feet once more.
"Are you having fun, sweetheart?"
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Taehyung reach for the lemonade glass. He takes a long, dehydrated drink. 
"Uh-huh!" 
Your daughter's arms are short and chubby where they wrap around Yeontan's fluffy brown body. She places a comically loud kiss to the top of his head and then bursts into a fit of bright, energetic giggles.
"Eomma!" She wheezes, pointing a finger up at you. "Yous all colow!"
You bring a hand up to your face, frowning when you feel the crackled texture of rapidly drying paint swept over your cheeks and into the roots of your hair; Taehyung's evident touch tinting your skin turquoise. 
"Ah, yeah. Eomma was just helping Appa to paint."
"Ooh! Can y'paiwnt me too, Appa?"
You blush sheepishly, watching the way that Taehyung instantly softens when your daughter regards him with a vibrant rosewater smile and hopeful eyes so similar to his own.
"Of course, Cherub. Come here."
Taehyung lifts her up into his arms, helping her get comfortably situated on the ball of his knee. He grabs for one of his many paintbrushes, drying the excess moisture on a paper towel before he dips it onto a dollop of glowing tangerine paint.
He turns toward her, his tongue protruding ever so slightly out of the corner of his lips as he once again falls victim to his own concentration. 
He starts by painting an almost perfect circle against her cheek, chasing it with an abundance of soft squiggly wisps until he has created a summer-bright sun on her skin.
And it works, because she positively burns with delight.
"I suppose I better leave you both to it, hm?" You muse, your voice almost lost to Taehyung's amused giggling as your daughter sings his praises. 
You carefully usher Yeontan out of the room, a surprisingly easy task as he trots off in search for a place to nap, and just barely catch the scalding hot sear of your husband's eyes meeting your own.
"You'll finish painting me later, won't you?"
Taehyung rests his chin ever so gently against the top of your daughter's head. His lips twitch with poorly contained mirth.
"You can count on it, Jagiya."
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Jeon Jeongguk
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The sound of deliciously hot water hammering down on cool tile is loud; a brigade of heavy footsteps echoing throughout an otherwise tranquil room. 
And yet, it pales in comparison to the vehement growls Jeongguk emits every single time your fingertips brush over his abdomen.
Your digits move as though you have been hypnotised, the pads of your thumbs following a line of apricot-scented suds as they skim down betwixt Jeongguk's hardened muscles. 
"Baby, if you keep touching me like that I swear it's game over."
It never fails to astound you just how talented Jeongguk is at kissing - much like everything else. 
His lips crash against your own, sticky and warm and deliciously wet from the torrential downpour of a perfectly-angled shower head. Using the prickle of his teeth, he paves a petite pathway into your mouth. His tongue conducts something of a waltz alongside the succulent slip-slide of your own. 
When you finally break for air, your lungs tingling with the poetry of a perfectly executed liplock, you can see starstruck galaxies burning just beyond your damp lashes. 
Finally, fighting past the lump which has formed in your throat, you will yourself to simply speak.
"And if you keep kissing me like that, I'm going to be forced to pounce on you."
Jeongguk's playful laughter seems to reverberate throughout his sternum, smothered in part by the sensation of his nose ghosting down your stomach as he slowly folds onto his knees.
"Challenge accepted."
Turning his head into the flush of your thighs, Jeongguk peppers kiss after kiss against your water-warmed skin. He starts at the base of your knee and works his way up, pausing only when he feels the tug of your trembling fingers his hair.
He grins, fiendish and dark, and you see stars far brighter than your wedding band shimmering in contrast to his inky-black hair. 
"Jeongguk, I-"
"Nnnnyeeeoowww~!"
The noise of your son's small, sputtering lips opening and closing as he makes loud, enigmatic sound effects is unmistakable.
Through the percussion of water droplets you can hear plastic feet pit-patting against the bathroom counter, dashing across your various lotions and potions, and undoubtedly destroying the perfect sanctuary you have spent the entire afternoon crafting.
Jeongguk stares up at you with wide doe eyes, pressing his pointer finger to his lips.
"Appa?" 
Internally hissing, Jeongguk pulls the shower curtain back just far enough to poke his head out, hoping that his son's ignorance and naivety is enough to prevent him from questioning why he's situated so low to the ground.
"What's the matter, bud?"
"Can we pway supahewoes?" 
Your son shakes a worn Spiderman action figure in Jeongguk's face, his smile full of young bewilderment.
"Uhh.." Jeongguk turns his head to glance up at you. 
He absolutely does not miss the way that you smirk, clearly finding humor in your current predicament that Jeongguk himself sorely lacks.
"What about Uncle Yoongi? Can't he play with you?"
"Nuh-uh. He gone nap-nap. N'I can't find Eomma!"
Jeongguk swallows his sigh, briefly thumbing through a rolodex of suitable excuses within his mind. When he comes up short, he gnaws against his bottom lip and opts instead to admit defeat.
"Okay, buddy. Give me five minutes and I'll be right out, okay?"
"Yay!" 
From your position pressed flush against the cold shower wall, you can hear your son bounce up and down from excitement. After a brief victory cheer, he quickly darts out of the bathroom and leaves you alone with your partner once more.
"So… Good call on asking Yoongi to babysit for us to give us some alone time, huh?"
Jeongguk rolls his eyes as soon as he springs back up onto his feet.
"Yeah, Yeah. Even a golden maknae is wrong every once in a while."
Brushing his thumb over your fuchsia colored cheekbone, Jeongguk pulls you forward into a sickeningly sweet open-mouthed kiss. His tongue lalves a brief signature against your own; just enough to leave you sizzling all afternoon long.
"We'll pick this back up later, okay?"
You sigh happily, bringing a hand up to stroke across the spun sugar sting of your lips.
"It's a date."
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So it’s kinda like my thing now that whenever I enjoy something with an ensemble cast, I gotta assign each character a song by The Mountain Goats, so welcome to Fire Emblem: Three Houses as Mountain Goats songs. 
Black Eagles
Edelgard: Going Invisible 2 “I'm gonna burn it all down today and sweep all the ashes away.” This song feels like her mantra for defiantly destroying everything corrupt no matter the cost. Also the slow and increasingly intense performance of the song just feels exactly how her plan unfolds. 
Hubert: Genesis 30:3 “Open up the promise of the day, drive the dark things away. I will do what you ask me to do because of how I feel about you.” I know this song is about having a baby, but the absolute yet tender loyalty feels perfect for Hubert. 
Ferdinand: Sicilian Crest “Look to the West, look to the man bearing the Sicilian crest.” This song captures the exuberance of Ferdinand while also being about blinding overconfidence and hey! It has the word crest! Fun!
Bernadetta: In the Craters of the Moon “If the strain proves too much, give up right away. If the light hurts your eyes, stay in your room all day.” Honestly, TMG is a very Bernie band what with all the paranoid isolation and abusive fathers, but I like that this one captures her sense of epic-level dread over even small interactions. 
Dorothea: Linda Blair was Born Innocent “Hungry for love, ready to drown, so tie down the sails, we're going downtown.” For a girl who just wants love, a song named after a movie about the exploitation of teen girls. 
Linhardt: Sourdoire Valley Song “Dream the pleasant dreams that people dream when they grow up down here.” A weird song about peaceful Paleolithic life that seems to align with the peaceful, sleepy world Linhardt prefers. 
Caspar: For Charles Bronson “Set you sights on good fortune, concentrate, pull back the hammer, try to hold the gun straight.” A song about giving your all, earning your place, and having the heart of a champion despite everything. 
Petra: Deuteronomy 2:10 “I have no fear of anyone, I'm dumb and wild and free. I am a flightless bird and there'll be no more after me.” This ode to a captured animal who is the last of its kind seems to align with Petra’s existence as a sort of exotic hostage in the empire. 
Blue Lions
Dimitri: Maybe Sprout Wings “I thought of old friends, the one's who'd gone missing, said all their names three times. Phantoms in the early dark, canaries in the mines.” This is just the most heartrending song about waking at night from a dream of people who are now dead, just as Dimitri is haunted by his own ghosts.  
Dedue: Sax Rohmer #1 “I am coming home to you, with my own blood in my mouth.” Loyalty, but this time with Dedue’s penchant for having to fight through literal hell for Dimitri in every route. 
Felix: Spent Gladiator 2 “Stay alive. Maybe spit some blood at the camera. Just stay alive, stay forever alive.” Since Felix is committed to fighting for survival rather than heroic sacrifice, this furiously defiant song about continuing to live despite terrible odds seems appropriate. 
Ashe: Sept 15 1983 “Try try your whole life to be righteous and be good. Wind up on your own floor, choking on blood.” A song about an unjust killing for Ashe who has to reconcile his noble ideals with the unjust death of his adoptive father. 
Sylvain: No Children “And I hope when you think of me years down the line you can't find one good thing to say. And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out, you'd stay the hell out of my way.” I mean come on! The title, No CREST BABIES, also its like the ultimate anti-love song for the ultimate anti-love guy. 
Mercedes: Unmasked! “And by way of honoring the things we once both held dear. I will reveal you. I will reveal you.” I imagine this being sung both to Jeritza, masked both literally and metaphorically, with all the kindness mixed with brutal honesty that is Mercedes. 
Annette: Genesis 3:23 “Living room to bedroom to kitchen, familiar and warm. Hours we spent starving within these walls, sounds of a distant storm.” A song about breaking in to your old house aligns with Annette’s own troubled memories of a childhood marred by paternal abandonment. 
Ingrid: Age of Kings “Wolves in the hallway gaining ground. Reach down to the moment when I should have said something true. Shadows and their sources now stealing away with you.” A song about the loss of a heroic past for the idealistic girl who lost her fiancé and watched her own father try to marry her off for money. 
Golden Deer
Claude: Heel Turn 2 “Spent too much of my life now trying to play fair. Throw my better self overboard, shoot at him when he comes up for air.” Claude is so interesting as both a brutal pragmatist but also a dreamer. I really like how he can always survive the game if you let him, despite the compromises he has to make. 
Hilda: Riches and Wonders “I am healthy, I am whole, but I have poor impulse control. And I want to go home, but I am home.” This one is hard since Hilda is a pretty low angst character, but I feel like this song walks the line between her love of the finer things in life versus her eventually learning to stand on her own. 
Leonie: The Legend of Chavo Guerrero “And I need justice in my life: here it comes. Look high, it's my last hope. Chavo Guerrero, coming off the top rope.” Replace Chavo with Jeralt and we have a perfect song about hero-worship and how it can get us through hardship. 
Lorenz: The Mess Inside “Tried to find the creeping sense of dread with temporal things, most of the time I guess I felt alright.” This was another hard one, but given Lorenz’s persistent failure as a lady’s man it seems right that he would just be enjoying luxuries to distract himself from his lack of love. 
Raphael: Animal Mask “That was when we were young and green, in the dawning hours of our team. Some things you will remember, some things stay sweet forever.” One of the few genuinely sweet and happy TMG songs for a sweet and good boy. I am conceptualizing this as being about his childhood friendship with Ignatz and his role as a protector to his sister. 
Ignatz: Unicorn Tolerance “Get a momentary chance to see the thing I've been trying to beat to death, the soft creature that I used to be.” A song about forcing yourself to seem tough when you actually love unicorns, just as Ignatz tries to be a knight for his family, but he just loves art and semi-horny religious iconography. 
Marianne: In the Hidden Places “I turned my face away and I shut my eyes tight. Dreamed about the flowers that hide from the light, on dark hillsides, in the hidden places.” A song to sum up Marianne’s desire to keep herself away from anyone she might endanger. 
Lysithea: The Autopsy Garland “You don't wanna see these guys without their masks on, or their gloves.” This is more metaphorical, but the song is about the abuse of Judy Garland throughout her childhood, which parallels Lysithea’s experience with TWSITD. 
Ashen Wolves
Yuri: Fire Editorial “Lord of the hidden pocket knife. Tawdry dreams all come to life. Save yourselves, save this town, save everything not nailed down.” If anyone deserves to be called the lord of the hidden pocket knife, it’s Yuri. Also, the repeated chorus to save the town aligns with his savage defense of Abyss.
Balthus: Color in Your Cheeks “Come on in, we haven't slept for weeks, drink some of this, it'll put color in your cheeks.” A welcoming yet rowdy song for the rowdiest of boys. Also he is like an actual adult so he can serve liquor. 
Hapi: Possum by Night “All your pack dogs have your say. Let me just find my own way. Moon in the trees my guide. Walk with my jaw hinged wide.” Hapi with her prickly attitude and forced loneliness seems right for this heroic little possum. 
Constance: Game Shows Touch Our Lives “Our house sinking into disrepair, Ah, but look at this showroom filled with fabulous prizes.” The feeling of a little brightness in the despair of something fallen makes sense for Constance’s efforts to reclaim the glory of her house. 
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the-dork-neko · 4 years
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2, 10, 12, 19, 21, 26, 30 - the DW ask
Thank you! 😘😘
2. Top 3 Companions
1) Martha Jones. She's a fellow Potterhead, she's reliable, she's kind, she's an actual factual doctor, she saved Earth, even after being dragged - with her family! - through Hell and back, and she is the heroin of her own story, to the point of leaving 10 behind, and going to live her own life. Look at her, being so self-aware, and gorgeous, and full of attitude. God, I love her! 😍
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2) Donna Noble. She also has no professional life, she's funny, empathethic, brave, beautiful inside and out, able to surprise the entire universe, and even more able to yell and beat the living daylights out of anyone she sees doing shit.
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3) Jamie McCrimmon. He's loyal, he's brave, he's sweet, he can surprise everyone with his smarts - including himself! :) He's the Doctor's perfect safety blanket and moral compass. Bonus: he's gorgeous and has a magical voice.
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Honorable Mentions: Bill Potts, Zoe Heriot, The Brigadier, Polly Wright, Sarah Jane, Captain Jack, Yazmin Khan.
10. Ships
10/ Rose
Three hearts, one soul, one braincell. Dressed in 1950s clothes, riding a groovy scooter into the sunset. They are cute and happy together. I love them. 🥰
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The Doctor/ River
They are so chaotic, and they care for each other so much, it's too beautiful for my heart!
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The TARDIS/ The Doctor
They basically hijacked each other out of Galliffrey, and are having a beautiful, loving life together in space. Nerdy match made in Heaven.
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12. Favourite Doctor
10. Kind, hyper, funny, gentlemany, absolute disaster. Goes from super smart to absolute dumbass in 0,00005 seconds. Looks good with a cockatoo crest-like hair, Converse sneakers, and rockabilly sideburns (which I'd seriously like to shower in eskimo kisses). Quotes The Lion King in a moment of crisis.
Are you being bullied? He's going to publicly humiliate the jerk.
Are you alone? He's gonna be your matchmaker.
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Do you need a hug? A kiss? Are you cold, do you need a coat? He's your guy!
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Do you want to have some fun? He knows where the party's at! (Or he’d just bring the party with him, 🤣🤣🤣)
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Looking at the Time Lord Victorious, and the awful way he treated Martha, I really shouldn't say this, but he was the first Doctor I ever watched, and made me fall in love with the series, in only one episode.
Come on, look at this gorgeous disaster nerd. Is it possible, avoid falling in love with him?
19. Favourite one-off monster
The Macra. It's a shame that most of their serial is lost. :( Their visual was very well-made and terrifying for the time, but watching the restored serial now grounds the story most on the characters' voiced reactions, like it's an audio drama. These reactions make you afraid of the Macra - and their mind control system set upon an entire planet! It's the perfect psych terror.
The Vashta Nerada, the Osirians and the entity from Midnight also deserve honorable mentions.
21. Story that made you cry
The end of The War Games, and Donna losing her memories. I'm never going to recover. 😭
26. Top 3 episodes
The Enemy of the World
The Doctor's beach holiday is crashed. Now he has to impersonate his evil lookalike. Thank goodness he has the help of his bffs to destroy two worldwide dictatorships, in only one serial.
Dinosaurs in a Spaceship
11 takes his adoptive parents the Ponds (and Father Brown!) to a nice ride in a spaceship full of Silurians, and Dinosaurs, and even makes a friend/pet Triceratops. Perfect. 😘
Partners in Crime
Donna says: If I find trouble, I'll find the Doctor. She's right. They impersonate office workers, are a comedic duo, and save the world.
Honorable Mentions: Kerblam!, The Empty Child, Heaven Sent, Blink, The Shakespeare Code, The Unicorn and The Wasp, The Haunting of Villa Diodati, Time Heist, Vincent and the Doctor, and the list could go on ad infinitum. It’s hard to find an episode that I don’t like.
30. Will the Doctor ever be ginger?
Thanks to Mr. Neil Gaiman, the Doctor has fulfilled this dream. Look at this chaotic bitch, causing general mayhem and being very ginger and very beautiful in the English gloom. I just love him a lot.
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btsybrkr · 4 years
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You’re Hired
I love The Apprentice. I look forward to it every single year. It’s the one reality series that too-smart-for-you TV snobs won’t look down on you for watching, despite the fact that The Apprentice is really just Big Brother in suits. Think about it: larger-than-life contestants, living together in a big house, completing tasks where they will always be destined to fail (because it makes for much better conflict), all while being watched closely by an omnipotent figure, who calls all the shots.
In fact, Alan Sugar is a much scarier man-in-charge than the titular Big Brother. For one thing, he looks the contestants in the eyes when he’s destroying them emotionally - Big Brother hides away in a little recording booth somewhere, where he’s safe from any angry housemates, who’ve snapped after the pointlessness of what they’re doing has finally dawned on them. What a coward. Also, Alan Sugar is really bloody rich. Alan Sugar is so rich that he could probably buy you, and sell you back to yourself at a much higher price, and that’s pretty scary, if you ask me.
But, I digress. The thing that’s so great about The Apprentice is that it’s so low-stakes. Not to the contestants, of course, but to the viewer. See, it’s the only reality show where I never care who stays or who goes, and that’s because the contestants are usually, without exception, cocks - and this year hasn’t been much different.
Obviously, the stand-out recipient of the ‘Jesus Christ, You Really Are Absolutely Awful’ award this year has to be librarian and general irritant Lottie Lion, whose name alone makes her sound like the archetypal spoiled brat character from a Roald Dahl novel. It suits her so well, it’s almost as though her parents just sensed from birth that she was going to turn out that way. Or maybe she came out of the womb riding side-saddle on a horse and waxing lyrical about how much better she is than everyone else. I can’t know for sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised.
When she wasn’t shooting a piece-to-camera to repeat her mantra “I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to win”, she was busy coming up with increasingly ridiculous reasons why she was the ideal candidate for the top job in each task. She started out strong in Week 1 by announcing she was the best choice for sub-team leader in a tourism task, because “I know that the population of South Africa is 51 million”, and yet, amazingly, still managed to out-BS herself week after week. Perhaps the finest example was Week 9, in which she described having viola lessons when she was four as having been “in the music industry for 15 years”. By that logic, I’ve been in dentistry for 23 years, because I can navigate my own mouth with a toothbrush without taking out six of my teeth in the process.
Oh, and let’s not forget the remark she allegedly made in a contestants’ group chat, in which she told Pakistani candidate Lubna to “shut up, Ghandi”, before allegedly threatening “I’ll fucking knock you out at our press training”. Obviously, this is horrendously racist and absolutely out of order, and with any luck, Lubna might knock her out first, since, as a person born with arms, she has technically been in the boxing industry for 33 years.
On a much lighter note, this series might have introduced us to one of the most genuinely likeable contestants The Apprentice has ever seen in the form of Thomas Skinner, a self-described “full-time geezer”. Obviously, that’s not his day job - geezering does not pay very well, especially in this difficult economic climate. He’s a salesman, and a bloody good one - he’s so ridiculously charismatic that he could sell me the very concept of breathing itself and I’d probably pay over the odds for it.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t very good at much else, and was fired by a reluctant Alan Sugar after losing eight out of the nine tasks he’d been involved in. I got thinking, though… couldn’t Alan Sugar just take him on anyway? Considering the lack of success that previous winners have experienced, he honestly might as well. I’m not sure exactly what he would hire him to do, but if anyone can help Thomas realise his dream of actually making a living as a full-time geezer, then I’m sure it’s him.
Personally, I think he deserves all of the money and maybe a knighthood, purely on the basis he’s the first candidate in a long time that hasn’t once described himself as ‘cutthroat’ or ‘brutal’, or made some ridiculous statement about how money is so important to him that he’d probably murder his entire family for a fiver. You know, like they usually do.
This year’s final saw headhunter Scarlett Allen-Horton and artisan bakery owner Carina Lepore go head-to-head for the opportunity to work alongside The Ultimate Sugar Daddy, with the final task being to create a hypothetical launch for their respective businesses.
Step one was to pick a new brand name. Carina and co. decided on Lepore’s, because - as Thomas put it - “people will go for the bread, but they’ll go for you, too”. It’s a nice enough point, but if she’s opening a chain of bakeries, she won’t always be in there, will she? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been disappointed to go into a Blackpool branch of Gregg’s, only to be told that, once again, I’m unable to speak to King Gregg himself. He’s probably hiding in one of his fancy London stores, the big elitist. Scarlett had slightly more trouble with rebranding her recruitment company, which aims to place more women and minorities into top level engineering positions. Marianne helpfully suggested naming it after “those animals that build their own homes”. Beavers. She means beavers. Beaver Recruitment? Really? Not exactly suited to a top level headhunting agency, but on the bright side, she may have just stumbled on a great new way for men to describe going out on the pull.
Next on the agenda was to come up with a billboard and a TV advert. The billboards were both surprisingly good, at least in comparison to anything else filmed against a cheap green screen in this year’s series (the now infamous soundbite “who took my unicorn, Sparkle Stars??” from Toy Week immediately springs to mind). The TV advert task was a different story for Scarlett, who was surprised to find that her ‘vision’ of Lewis, Lottie and Marianne driving an imagery car in an empty warehouse wasn’t absolute advertising golddust. “It’s cheesier than I imagined”, she said, upon seeing it for the first time. How? I genuinely can’t understand how she came up with that and thought it was ever going to look like anything other than part of a hastily-planned GCSE Drama performance. But then I would say that, because as someone who has seen a TV advert before, I’ve technically been in marketing since 1996. On Carina’s team, their prison-themed advert for her artisan bread (no, I’m not sure how they arrived at this idea, either) was far more impressive - prefect from a 1960s comic book Ryan-Mark even managed to put in a convincing performance as a hungry jailbird, which wasn’t something any of us were expecting to see this year.
After this, and the all important pitches - which I’m not going to go into, since it’s consistently the least entertaining part of the finale, where I imagine most people, including me, take a toilet break - it was time for the final boardroom. In all seriousness, the tension in the final boardroom is mad. I can only imagine it’s like you and another person are staring down the barrel of a madman’s gun, except the madman is Alan Sugar, and you want to be shot because, instead of bullets, it’s money. Actually, it’s not like that at all, is it? But it must be absolute squeaky bum time for the candidates, is what I’m trying to say.
After a few minutes of back and forth, and a couple more minutes of Carina and Scarlett turning on each other at the last second - which I’m absolutely, one hundred-percent, completely sure the producers definitely didn’t encourage in any way - The Sugarman arrived at a conclusion, and crowned Carina the winner, with a statement that I’m sure we can all agree with: “I do like the idea of more bread.” Well, don’t we all?
Anyway, deserving winner found - as well as plenty of memorable moments and ridiculous characters along the way - that’s it for another year. The only thing I’m left wondering is why it’s called The Apprentice, since the prize is a £250,000 investment, and since most real life apprentice jobs pay about £3.90 an hour. But then I wonder that every year, and to be honest, I’m all fired out.
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ameliabonse-blog · 5 years
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if you’re looking for AMELIA BONES, you’ll probably find HER in the HUFFLEPUFF dorm with the rest of the SIXTH years. they’re the TWENTY year old PUREBLOOD who looks kind of like NATALIA DYER. they seem PERSPICACIOUS, AMIABLE, & INDUSTRIOUS to me, but apparently they’re also OPINIONATED, OVERPROTECTIVE & RETICENT. maybe that’s why their patronus is A LIONESS. ( ic: cisfemale / she/her. ooc: ellie, nineteen, bst, she/her. )
hey everyone!! i’ve played amelia exactly Once before but i wrote her w a different fc and a whole different Sibling Vibe ( she was older + Burdened ) and tbh i’m ??? so excited to bring her to y’all!!  also i chose that gif bc i cannot stop laughing at it lmao it’s v amelia CHARACTER INSPIRATION: alex danvers (supergirl), peggy carter (agent carter), nancy wheeler (stranger things), leia organa (star wars), bonnie bennett (tvd), more tbd AESTHETICS: athena, bursting forth with plated armor and a victorious yell, a sword in hand and blood matting her hair.  soft, but hard, warm, but cold, always extremes, never one without the other.  caring so much you feel it will be the end of you.  a shining arrow on your forearm.  keeping secrets, the way you’ve been taught.  hair chopped off.  knowing the true good in this world is always found in the darkest of times. LINKS: stats. pinboard. character tag. 
my pureblood definitely not a purist Daughter is a Classic hufflepuff capricorn ass ( Dec 30th )
Hufflepuff Capricorns are extraordinarily hard workers. Their sense of duty is strong, and they have enough discipline to manage not just themselves, but a whole army of people if needs be. They take joy in being useful to other people, so are often quite helpful whether as lab partners or in their chosen careers (often in the Ministry of Magic). However, because they also make good leaders and want to get ahead in the world due to having more ambition than the average Hufflepuff, they tend to get selected for positions of authority, where they soon make themselves indispensable. They're good at organizing things. Hogwarts should always have a Hufflepuff Capricorn somewhere on the administration, to make sure all affairs are actually in order (all those head-in-the-clouds creative types on the faculty; good heavens, where would Hogwarts be if there was no way of balancing them with down to earth perspective?)
she’s a year below the marauders and is therefore in the same yr as charity burbage!!!
hufflepuff beater from fifth year to now, will literally fight ted tonks if he tries to get her off his team ( with her beaters bat. so don’t try anything )
also on the dueling club since it was founded and has been in the slug club since last year
edgar is her older brother and she loves him dearly, and they’re both a bit overprotective over the other (they have a younger sibling, which in canon would be susan bones’ dad)
she v much gives off an alex danvers vibe when it comes to family - in the broadest sense, as found family is more of a concept in supergirl than blood family is  - they mean the absolute /world/ to her and she’d do anything for them (x x x x x x)
loosely invested in muggle culture - she’s not arthur weasley levels of interested but she quite enjoys muggle music and has been to see muggle movies 
wants to make her parents proud like a crazy amount, to the point where she’s sure that she’d do anything to make them proud - they’re bigshots at the ministry and she’d hate to do anything to destroy that for them
she’s not as outright confident as her brother but she’d be hard pressed to find someone she thinks is better equipped than her in her year
she works incredibly hard - probably harder than you’ve seen anyone work in their life, because it’s how she’s been brought up
she’s DEFINITELY going to be an auror, no matter what anyone says otherwise
i mean, in canon she ends up as the head of the department of magical law enforcement and has a seat on the wizengamot up until her death at her home in july 1996
her patronus is a lioness because that pride Aesthetic is v much so the bones fam in my brain and lions are incredibly loyal 
her boggart is edgar’s dead body
uhhhh, she has several tattoos (what! a! badass! am i right)
she has a silver spear and a silver arrow tattooed on either forearm
has cross bones tattooed on the back of her neck, almost ironic because of her last name
identifies strongly with athena so has athena, clad in armour, tattooed on her left foot, a spear and shield in hand with a helmet
her wand is aspen, phoenix feather core, 9 1/4 inches, brittle
Wand-quality aspen wood is white and fine-grained, and highly prized by all wand-makers for its stylish resemblance to ivory and its usually outstanding charmwork. The proper owner of the aspen wand is often an accomplished duellist, or destined to be so, for the aspen wand is one of those particularly suited to martial magic. An infamous and secretive eighteenth-century duelling club, which called itself The Silver Spears, was reputed to admit only those who owned aspen wands. In my experience, aspen wand owners are generally strong-minded and determined, more likely than most to be attracted by quests and new orders; this is a wand for revolutionaries.
This is the rarest core type. Phoenix feathers are capable of the greatest range of magic, though they may take longer than either unicorn or dragon cores to reveal this. They show the most initiative, sometimes acting of their own accord, a quality that many witches and wizards dislike.Phoenix feather wands are always the pickiest when it comes to potential owners, for the creature from which they are taken is one of the most independent and detached in the world. These wands are the hardest to tame and to personalise, and their allegiance is usually hard won.
recently cut her hair to her chin? it’s grown out now to her shoulders but yeah she felt she needed a change
historically, has not had the greatest relationship track record??? she was never comfortable being intimate with any of her boyfriends and thought something was really wrong with her before she realized that it wasn’t because she didn’t like intimacy, it was that she didn’t /like/ guys, period
she’s gay. an icon. with a beaters bat. so don’t try Anything
this is like the worst introduction lmao
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narika-a · 6 years
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11 Questions Tag
I was tagged by @kttendrama and @9byul. Thanks so much!! It’s so fun doing these 😃 I decided to answer both of your questions in one post~
RULES: Answer 11 questions from the person who tagged you and then make 11 more for the next people that you tag. 
I’m going to put the answers and questions under the cut because this turned out way too long 😂⬇️
1) Queen of a kingdom or general of an army?
How about both world domination, am I right *winks with both eyes* 😂
2) Revenge or forgiveness?
I’m the type to forgive but if it’s something really bad then heck yeah I would want some payback
3) Sparkling unicorn or glorious lion?
Lion!! Cats FTW!!
4) Lots of money or lots of love?
Lots of money 😂
5) If your bias idol group we’re animals what would they be?
I choose MyName for this:
I feel that Seyong would be a peacock because he’s handsome and likes to show off  😂 Chaejin would definitely be a bunny, that sweet boo boo. Gunwoo hmm maybe a dog? Insoo would be a lion because he can be a real softie and then bam kills you with fanservice or something. I see JunQ as a fox perhaps because they can act all cute but have hidden ambitions ‘sly as fox’ 😂
6) Rule heaven or raise hell?
Heyyy how about both again? Not only world but heaven and hell domination, am I right? *winks two times with both eyes*
7) If you had a super power what would it be and how would you abuse it to become a villain :D
I would want to have teleportation and it’s easy to abuse it, just teleport somewhere steal a bunch of shit and bam richest villain that can always escape  😂
8) You’re given 10 million dollars - what do you do?
Give idk half of it to my family and then travel the world~
9) If you were sorted into a house at hog warts - where would you be?
Probably Gryffindor or Ravenclaw 
10) If you were a Greek god or goddess who would you be?
Zeus because world domination *triple wink*
11) Travel into the future or travel into the past? Where would you want to go?
The future? And a nearby one to see if the world has been destroyed yet
12) who is your favorite k-actor?
I actually don’t watch dramas, should probably start tho 😂
13) how did you find bts?
It was one of the reaction videos on youtube and it all went downhill from there  😂
14) a place you really want to go to?
Japan!!
15) what’s something you hate to do?
I hate cleaning the house. Like I love when it’s all clean and neat but I hate the whole process
16) favorite videogame !
Assassin’s Creed and then Resident Evil!
17) what’s something everybody likes that you don’t like?
I don’t know if everyone but a lot of people do but I absolutely haaaaaaaaate beans. Honestly, fuck the beans
18) who is your favorite artist/writer?
One of my favourite artists would be M.K.Ciurlionis and Kestutis Kasparavicius. And for the writer, I adore a lot of manga artists/writers but a novel one would be Ursula Poznanski?
19) tell us a joke you made on innocent’s day
Omg what even is this day? It sounds scary? Why would you celebrate a massacre of children what 😂
20) craziest dream you ever had?
I actually dreamed up a lot of my mafia aus tbh, that’s something 😂
21) which is your favorite album?
Ooooh I have a lot of these! The first one that came to mind was GOT7 “Flight Log: Arrival”
22) what are some languages you want to learn?
I want to finish learning Russian and then move on to Japanese, maybe Korean as well~
And now my questions:
1. If you could date/marry one idol who would it be and why? (This question doesn’t apply for @heebiejbies because she’s already married 😂)
2. Warm weather or cold weather? Why?
3. Why did you decide to join tumblr?
4. What’s the most dangerous thing you have ever done?
5. What is/was your favourite subject in school? Why?
6. What’s the most memorable thing that happened to you during vacations?
7. Do you like board games? Any recommendations?
8. Have you ever cheated while playing games?
9. What thing would you associate with your favourite colour? (For example, purple always reminds me of syringa)
10. Is it easy for you to concentrate on tasks at hand?
11. What country you would not like to visit? Why?
I’m tagging whoever reads this and also @heebiejbies; @ohnosheshere; @daegushoneyboy; @rangrids; @imaddict; @miahbtsarmy; @frostii-dragons; @everythingkpopuniverse aaand it will be enough 😂
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kuriquinn · 7 years
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Penthesilea [1/?]
Cover & Disclaimer
Chapter Summary: Their decade long feud is only a cornerstone of a larger conflict, a war that has been fought for hundreds of years. Since the days when Uchiha Madara and his Hyūga allies first clashed with Senju Hashirama and the Uzumaki clan.
Author’s Note: I know absolutely nothing about sword fighting techniques, katana, naginata, or anything. If I say anything wrong here, don’t penalise me for it. I’m just trying to lend authenticity.
Chapter Beta: Sakura’s Unicorn
戦国時代
Uchiha Sasuke, heir to the Uchiha clan, stalks the front line, traversing the ground soaked with the blood of ally and enemy alike.
The sun has long since set, but he has yet to find the individual he’s been looking for since this latest skirmish started. Uzumaki Naruto is the one man among the enemy who Sasuke has marked as his rival, ever since they were children forced to fight on opposite sides. Their decade-long feud is only a small part of a larger conflict, a war fought for hundreds of years – since the days when Uchiha Madara and his Hyūga allies first clashed with Hashirama Senju and the Uzumaki clan.
Sasuke expects that the world looks very different now than it did then.
Over time, the daimyō were destroyed, leaving the power to the warring clans. People flee once robust villages and civilians seek protection and shelter from the strong. They toil in the ruined fields, little more than serfs who support the war effort while their masters slice each other to ribbons daily.  
Sasuke’s attitude vacillates between bitter resentment or indifference most days, with no in-between. There’s no room for anything else, as he knows no other life than this. He was born in battle and expects to die here. If the only difference he can make is to take as many of the enemy with him as possible, so be it.
Perhaps that’s why he is so often drawn to Uzumaki in battle. The other man offers a change of pace from the constant drudgery of war, a different type of interaction. The irritating idiot will make jokes while they fight or complement Sasuke’s form when he almost lands a mortal blow. Or tease him when he misses, as if they’re still the same scuff-kneed boys who skipped rocks at the river before the war of their parents caught up with them. It used to fill Sasuke with frustration that the stupid moron couldn’t be serious about anything. As the years go by, though, he returns insults born of lazy amusement more than animosity. He doesn’t know what he’ll do the day he succeeds in killing the other man.
Today, he comes close to learning the answer.
As Sasuke and his rival fight, one of Uzumaki’s allies—an older warrior with a scar across the bridge of his nose—falls nearby. At once, Uzumaki rushes to his side, turning a blind eye to Sasuke as if they’re just enjoying a practice bout between comrades. Sasuke snarls in annoyance, intending to use the opportunity to run him through—only to be thrown backward by such a monstrous force that his teeth rattle and his ribs crack.
When he recovers himself, he sees a figure in red standing as a forbidding guard over Uzumaki while he helps the invalid to safety. The stranger is faceless behind a somen which has been carved into the shape of a snarling lion. Something like horsehair—dyed pink of all colours—peeks out from beneath a kabuto head covering.
Sasuke pauses a moment to assess the newcomer, taking stock of the shorter, lighter frame clad in the traditional armour of the Senju. His enemy’s gear is sleek and efficient, built for speed. He would think he was facing a small and wiry man if not for the naginata grasped expertly in hand.
Not a lion, he realises with a smirk, a lioness.
“We’ve never met,” he tells her, “so allow me to give you a piece of advice: don’t get between combatants such as myself and Uzumaki. You cannot hope to equal either of us.”
Gloved hands grip her spear more firmly.
“I do not kill women,” he continues, “but I will if it means achieving my goal. Get out of my way. Go fight someone on your level.”
But the woman instead falls into in-no-kamae, a blatant invitation for him to attack. Sasuke scoffs because, for all her attitude, that’s a defensive position; if she’s starting off this weak, it’ll all be over quickly.
“Tch. Annoying,” he says, holstering his katana and bending forward into nukitsuke, right hand on the hilt of his sword, the other gripping the sheath; his left thumb flicks the blade up an inch.
There is a pause, a lull like an inhalation of breath.
Then he moves, drawing the katana out of the sheath in one continuous arc, swinging the blade out from left to right in a move meant to decapitate. To his surprise, she darts forward too, jabbing the naginata first downward and then up to slice the side of him that is unprotected by his armour. If his reflexes weren’t excellent, he wouldn’t be able to dodge it in time, but as it is, he disengages to face her once more.
His opponent’s arm flexes, and he expects that she intends to sweep an overhead strike, but as he moves to counter it, she instead jabs at his throat. Sasuke knocks aside the tip of the blade, but only enough that the point punches through his armour and into his left shoulder.
There is a blaze of pain radiating up his left side, and it’s surprising and telling all at once. The strength of the hit explains her speed—she’s not as fast as he is, but strong, and it gives her a momentum that propels her forward. 
When he steps back to get his bearings, rotating his shoulder to make sure he still has movement, she closes in once more. With a forward lunge, she braces the naginata with her right wrist and elbow, while thrusting one-handed at his middle with her left. He kicks the weapon aside, but can’t get the space to cut her; instead, he strikes hard with the butt of his katana, cracking the somen in the forehead, sending her reeling back.
She staggers far enough that he can get into the required attack range, and then he charges. Sasuke brings his blade down overhead in a two-handed chop that should land between her neck and shoulder. But she recovers, swinging the polearm back around to block him. Their blades lock and they strain against each other. His arm trembles with the force this woman can put into her blow, and he finds himself surprised that she hasn’t snapped her own weapon yet.
Perhaps, it was crafted with her monstrous strength in mind. Speaking of mind…
Sasuke leans into the hold, his Sharingan blazing to the surface as he tries to catch her in a genjutsu, but the eyes behind her mask are shut tightly. Like most of the enemy, she knows better than to meet an Uchiha’s gaze in battle, and he can at least respect that foresight.
Even if it will be her undoing.
By avoiding his eyes, she leaves herself blind to other things, and he hooks one leg around hers and jerks, sweeping her feet out from underneath. She isn’t braced properly and goes down on her back, hitting so hard he hears a jarring grunt of breath punch from her lungs. Her fall jolts the naginata clear of his katana, sending it flying to the side.
Sasuke doesn’t wait for an invitation, swinging down with all his strength.
To his shock, her hands clap together, stopping the blade before it can touch her. Then she wrenches it to the right, snapping it off several inches above the hilt. Sasuke snarls, overbalancing, and is forced to catch himself. As she tosses the ruined sword away and jumps from her back to her feet, he kicks the naginata farther out of reach.
They circle each other, now both unarmed.
“Do you still think I am not at your level?” she asks him, and there is a smug confidence there that would irritate him under normal circumstances.
Instead, he snorts. “You are a momentary amusement at best.” But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying the unexpected challenge.
Without weapons, they’ll have to rely on traditional shinobi skills, and he knows such an altercation should end fast. Like his brother, Sasuke is a prodigy, and he has never lost to anyone but Itachi (he doesn’t count the ongoing stalemate with Uzumaki).
Sasuke’s fingers fly, forming hand seals, and he summons chakra to his chest.
“Katon—Gōkakyū no Jutsu!”
He expels a massive, roaring orb of flame, intending to char the enemy down to her bones. To his surprise, a wall of water springs up around her, strong enough to extinguish the blaze.
She’s a water-type, he realises, shielding his eyes from the spray. Which means all his clan techniques are useless to him right now.
“Doton—Dosekiryū!”
The water becomes a wave of dirt and mud, barrelling toward him, intending to bury him alive.
Earth-style as well—hm. It’s a fair attempt… But not good enough.
Unfortunately for her, he may be an Uchiha, but he isn’t a natural fire-type—and lightning is strong against earth.
Electricity crackles to life in his palms and he shoves it downward and into the ground, channelling his energy into reversing the approaching wave. Clods of soil solidify and crumble, nullifying the efficacy of her attack. In the pause where she processes this, Sasuke transforms his chakra into thin, needle-like projectiles of lightning and hurls them toward her. With his Sharingan, it should be easy to hit her vital points, but then—
Shit! Kawarimi!
She must’ve taken advantage of his focus on her mud wall to create a substitute.
He whirls around, just in time to see the real enemy coming from above, fist raised. He moves back, expecting to kick out at her as she lands, but when her knuckles hit the ground, there’s no chance to find his footing. The surrounding area crumbles beneath their feet, forcing him to scramble for level ground.
He didn’t overestimate her monstrous strength before. She really is that strong.
Warier now, Sasuke moves farther away from her, considering the fists she still has clenched.
If she gets one good hit in, I’m dead. Even I can’t guard against a broken neck. 
He revaluates what he knows about this woman now.
She is skilled in ninjutsu and makes up for the disparity between their chakra natures using advanced analysis to anticipate his moves. He suspects her taijutsu is deadly, even without a finishing move. In that case, it seems this match may require genjutsu. Although, given her awareness of his lineage, it’ll be harder than expected—she’s shielded her eyes from him the entire match. Unless he can somehow trick her…
An idea comes to him, one Sasuke’s seen his brother use before. He’s never tried it—never needed to—but he has no choice; he has to try it now.
Sasuke channels his chakra into one finger, making a show of trying to capture the woman’s gaze with his own, the tomoe in his Sharingan spinning. While she avoids his line of sight, her eyes reflexively focus on the finger he points at her, no doubt expecting a shuriken or kunai to come from that direction.
Then she goes still, frozen. His ploy has worked.
With a triumphant eagerness, he calls up another palm of lightening and charges at her, preparing to shove his entire hand through her body—but then he hears “Kai!”
Seconds before he collides with her, she ducks—which should not be possible—and grabs him by his cuirass. She lifts him over her head, slamming him onto the ground.  
Stars spin above his head, but Sasuke’s reflexes stay sharp where his wits don’t; he punches his knuckles together, her forearm trapped between them where her hand guard and sleeve armour don’t cover. The crunch of broken bone forces her to release him, and without wasting another second, he rolls away.
Not just a water-type. A natural genjutsu-type as well. Even without a Sharingan, she’s strong.
He’s impressed, despite himself, that someone other than Uzumaki—and a woman, at that—can hold her own against him. He might think she were Senju Tsunade herself if he hadn’t met the old woman in person during many a failed peace-talk.
“All right,” he allows, “You possess some skill.”
She snorts at this, but it sounds like amusement instead of offence. They lunge at each other once more.
Again and again, they meet, fighting with fists, feints, and illusions. Maddeningly, she continues to counter him with ease, parrying his blows and nullifying his techniques, throwing off his illusions a half-second before he can strike. Sasuke suspects anything less than a fully-evolved Sharingan is a simple thing for her to shrug off.
And when Sasuke gets too close, she lashes out, bringing him worryingly close to death with the graze of her knuckles.
In the end, he realises that this woman is not even close to tiring. In fact, she seems to want to get him to use up all of his chakra first. She must have tremendous reserves, and he wonders if she might not be another Uzumaki.
Whether that’s the case or not, this fight must end, and it will come down to a choice. Sasuke needs to get close enough to her to strike a fatal blow—not with fists, perhaps, but his chokutō remains hidden. He hasn’t reached for the smaller blade yet, and so she won’t be expecting it, but he must be fast because there will only be one chance. If he doesn’t succeed, he’ll be left open, and she’ll kill him with a single blow.
His guts tremble in anticipation.
There’s no point in putting it off. However this goes, the fight will end.
One last time, he lunges forward, feinting left—which she expects, and begins a downward chop with the heel of her hand. As she moves to meet him, he uses Shunshin to materialise behind her.
Without ceremony, he shoves his blade through the gap beneath her arm where her armour doesn’t reach, burying it to the hilt. She jerks in surprise, and there is a choked cry as she falls back against him. Her head whips to one side to face him, and this time he meets her eyes unimpeded through the mask.
In that moment as he meets his opponent’s gaze, the world seems to stop.
Clear, green irises shine with surprise and pain. They are open wide, meeting his gleaming red ones without hesitation. Now it is he who can’t breathe, as if he were the one who was just run through, not her.
In his colourless world of war and bloodshed, for that second, her eyes are the most striking sight he’s ever seen.
Then they dull and slide away from his face.
As if moving in a dream, Sasuke pulls the blade out. It tumbles from his fingers as her body slumps forward. His arms wrap around her, almost in reflex, as gravity draws her downward. They are both on their knees now, her fingers clutching ineffectually at the fabric beneath his armour. A gasping, rattling, wet noise echoes behind the painted snarl of the mask, the familiar sound of someone bleeding into their lungs and stomach.
Before he knows of it, Sasuke has pulled the mask from her face, gazing down upon his opponent for the first and last time.
Pale, soft features greet him, blood spilling from full lips. It isn’t dyed horsehair beneath the helmet, he realises, but her own distinctive locks. The colour of cherry blossoms, like the trees which no longer grow on this field of combat.
Even in death, she doesn’t cry or make a noise, only squints straight up at him. Her beguiling irises move back and forth, like she’s trying to read, or perhaps, memorise his features. It’s as if learning the face of the man who killed her is the last important task she has set for herself.
All too soon, her eyes roll back and she goes still.
For the first time in his life, Uchiha Sasuke feels the unexpected pang of regret. He senses he’s lost something, but isn’t sure what or even why or how. It makes no sense, and yet he is familiar enough with pain and loss to recognise it.
Is it a lingering genjutsu, perhaps? But that sounds absurd even as he thinks it.
In his mind, something strange happens.
Sasuke imagines this woman before him the way she could have been if they lived in a different time or a different place. From childhood to adulthood, smiling and laughing and yelling—dynamic and vivacious. Feelings and emotions he’s never experienced hit him then, the chains of a life never lived, from a something he can’t even comprehend.
Hyūga Neji finds him like that several minutes—or hours—later. “Uchiha?”
Sasuke doesn’t answer right away, still staring down at the woman’s face. She has freckles, he notices; delicate and transparent, but clearly there.
“Uchiha, do you hear me? Are you wounded?”
The Hyūga prodigy is the closest thing Sasuke has to a friend, even if they only tolerate one another. Although his question is asked in a controlled manner, there’s a minor note of concern there.
“I killed her,” Sasuke replies which should explain everything, but Hyūga looks as if that hasn’t answered the question at all.
Rather than push him on it, though, he simply says, “You’re wanted back at camp.”
“The battle is not done.”
“All who remain are stragglers. Uzumaki and his people have quit the field already. I hear his adopted father was wounded. If he dies, I imagine there will be retribution.”
Sasuke allows the words to wash over him, still gazing down at the woman in his arms. She looks young—maybe younger than him, maybe the same age. Far too young to be dead here on a field of blood and bone.
“Are you coming?” Hyūga says, sounding impatient. Sasuke knows from experience, if he doesn’t leave with him, the other man will physically carry him from the field.
Sasuke stands, still cradling the woman’s body.
“Why are you bringing her?”
“She fought me and endured. For longer than most men would,” Sasuke says, adjusting his hold on her so that her head rests against his shoulder. “That alone deserves a proper burial. This woman should not have her body ransacked by thieves and vultures like a common soldier.”
He strides past.
Hyūga takes a moment to digest this, and snorts. “I never believed you were the sentimental type.”
“I am not,” Sasuke maintains.
And yet, as they head back to the Uchiha camp, he wonders what it says about him that he thinks he feels a soft sigh against his neck. His stomach jumps in something disturbingly like hope.
つづく
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