#and all that is like the smallest of my problems atm

[newtness532]

i need my brain to be normal, at least a little bit

[miumiucowboy]

how i ruined my perception and idea of love

this is going to be pretty hard for me to write, and please bare with any grammatical errors etc as i am writing this just as the thoughts enter my head. maybe a video would be better but its almost 3AM and I have to be quiet. here is some context, im 18 years old, cis male and gay. all of my school life i was either bullied or made to feel uncomfortable in my sexuality, and this established a strong disconnect, especially in later years of high school, between the other guys and me. whilst i have female friends, its almost hard for me to feel like i fit in in either of this realms. besides my best friend who i would give the entire world too. i think its kind of important to note too that my father is, to be frank, emotionally unavailable, and my mother who has passed an array of her own problems onto myself, and she is emotionally manipulative and unstable, screaming and me, abuse to next second non-stop affection and love. btw, in no means is this me being like 'omg im so abused and mentally ill and no one wants me' like that victim complex stuff annoys me so bad, im just trying to figure out some emotions, but yeah i feel like that is important context. around my eighteenth birthday last year, I began seeking fulfilment off older men from the forbidden app (none of my friends even know about this) as a way to kinda fill a void of affection within me. ultimately this has totally destroyed my perception and idea of being loved. i'm currently talking to the cutest boy from brazil, and he is the first boy who I have ever genuinely been interested in getting to know on a deep level, ive never felt this way about anyone before so im trying to sort myself out for his sake and also because I really really really want this to work. i want to be loved so bad. i constantly crave validation from him, otherwise I feel as if he is loosing interest and for that I blame my mother - constantly trying to work around her unstable emotions, to stay in her 'good books' otherwise hell would rise. this is one of the biggest regrets in my life so far, is always catering to the what she would want. its always at the forefront of my mind and I feel as if she controls me in that regard. i also become way way way too attached to people who show me the smallest amount of attention just because I really am so lonely. im currently at university and this is a whole other thing but the loneliness is insane, especially when you see friends doing so well socially, and of course im happy for them its just hard because I feel like my teenage dream and expectations vs what I have done are so far apart from each other and I feel like im wasting my youth away. im also scared that i am unable to associate love and sexual desires with one another, and im scared that this is going to happen with this new guy. my entire mindset around love is ruined. idk what to do this isn't even all I wanted to say but its actually so hard for me atm so im going to stop here. i just hope that this works out between me and davi I really really really pray that it does

[nibeul]

Ok, I know this will take a great deal of your time, but I was startled to see that socialism wont be able to benefit POC like us. I dont want a capitalist society, and socialism sounded appealing, but it seems like that isnt the case. I would always like to learn and understand more. If it's ok with you, are there any sources or posts that discusses this?

alright, it’s early morning hours and I’m tired but I’m up working anyways so I might as well answer this. I don’t have any linked sources atm because it’s actually not a topic that’s talked about a lot, though I’ll be grabbing some basic definitions from the dictionary and such. for the most part, I’ll be running with my own thoughts.

socialism and communism are political and economic theories. communism is the ultimate goal for a lot of people while socialism is the stepping stone to get there (aka socialism is the halfway to communism, in a broad sense). Below are your definitions for easy access:

now I’m going to assume that we’re talking about the US specifically. As of now, we know that the US is a capitalist society, I.e., market is controlled by private owners for profit instead of by the state. Surprisingly, China is also technically a capitalist society that is controlled by the communist part just in the way that it functions market wise (this is a broad generalization however, it’s a bit more complicated than that), so the argument that communism is bad because of countries like China, or that socialism is bad because of unions like the USSR (which.. also isn’t really socialist? it’s run by a communist party similar to China but it’s honestly authoritarian under the veil of “socialism”) isn’t really founded in fact.

(I apologize if you already know this information, I’m trying to make this as informative as possible so please bear with me) Imperial powers have actually intentionally meddled with growing socialist countries—I believe Brazil and Cuba are two examples of this, though again, it’s harder to find discussions on this because the US does a lot more censoring of its history than we’re led to believe/it just isn’t talked about as much thanks to propaganda/intentional framing—which has resulted in destabilization and makes the argument that socialism is inherently bad easier to make. That being said, communism and socialism aren’t the miracle “fix it” for all the issues the US has right now.

Now, I’m not going to claim that I have the end all know all on political/economic theories. I haven’t done extensive reading on these topics/systems and I’ve made some broad generalizations in order to get my point across in an err.. digestible manner? I don’t mean that in a condescending way, more so that if I tried to get into the nuance of everything I would confuse myself and probably everyone else reading because there’s a lot. With that cleared, socialism and communism are going to sound a lot more appealing than what we have going now (which is valid). That being said, capitalism is heavily engrained in US American society, and it’s going to take years to move toward that, assuming that it even gets to a point of acknowledgement with the higher ups.

The thing is, that’s probably not going to happen anytime soon. Why’s that? Because the US political spectrum actually leans heavily right. The biggest lie of the two party system (which I do not like at all, and I think a lot of US Americans actually share that sentiment) is that it shows the full scope of political ideology when in fact we have one of the smallest political scopes in the world. Most countries have multiple parties (Ireland is a pretty good example, it has its own problems but it’s definitely more politically diverse) but the US is unique in the fact that we only have two, which forces you to mold yourself to its constraints (which is a whole other issue). I don’t want to get too far into that, but you might be familiar with this image:

which I won’t flat out say is a clear cut, accurate representation of the current spectrum, but it does give you the general idea (it should come up if you search on Google). We are nowhere near being able to convert to a socialist or communist system, much less function properly with one because of our current political spectrum. That is the first issue to kinda clear because a lot of people assume it is just a shift that will happen? Which is definitely not how it will work, sorry that it took me a bit to get here but I wanted to clear some background information before making conclusions.

Now to get at the core of your question, why doesn’t socialism and communism benefit us (in a broad sense)? The simple answer is racism functions separately from capitalism and can survive on its own, hence why converting to socialism or communism doesn’t actually address the problem. Here’s another issue: white leftists are just as racist as white conservatives, they’re literally just more deceitful with their racism. When a good chunk of the people backing the movement are ignorant of their own biases, you encounter yet another problem. Communism and socialism do not fix racism, as much as people want to believe it does, changing the political and economic system a country functions with does not address the core root of an already inherently racist system. My end goal is the dismantling of the current system of white supremacy, and communism/socialism are not going to suddenly get us there.

[cherrysha]

👉👈 May i ask for a illumi x reader where reader sees him naked for the first time (it was an accident) but then turns else where 👁👁 srry to bother u skdksksks

Not a bother! I made it more of a headcannon because I haven’t done one yet and I’d like to write more of them since it takes me so damn long to get fics out.

Word Count: 1162 yikes this was supposed to be short

My requests are open atm

Warnings: Oral (male recieving), dubcon if you squint, and a tiny bit of degradation

As always, 18+ only

I feel like if you were to see him naked it would not be accidental on his part

To start off, I don’t think he’d ever leave himself exposed to another person unless he was confident that he had some control over the situation

It’d have to be somewhere he was comfortable

So I’m just gunna make the reader a maid because its hot and the most believable setting

If you were a housekeeper at the estate and cleaned the wing where he lives it’d be a set time of day when it was established that you would be cleaning

The lady before you cleaned at that time too, he knows exactly when you’ll be coming

And you walk in because he should not be there, and you’re not surprised to find an empty room

It never really required more than a little dusting, folding of blankets, mopping the floors, and once a week you changed the sheets

So, you do that and then make your way to his personal bathroom

And to say your startled is an understatement

He’s there, in front of you, eyes trained on his own face in the mirror

And he’s just completely naked. Long black hair hanging limply around his face. Obviously fresh out of the shower

You will yourself not to look. You could already be fired for this. You didn’t wanna make it worse on yourself.

“Uhh.. Sorry master Illumi? I didn’t think.... excuse my disturbance.”

Hand still gripping the doorknob you take pause as he speaks

“I’ve been having an issue with your work, y/n.”

Thoughts rattling around in your mind you try to figure out exactly what you could’ve done

And why the fuck he can’t get dressed before talking about it

“I’m sorry... what was the issue? I can fix it if it’s still a problem.”

His posture remains unchanged as you speak to him, only turning to face you when you begin to get uncomfortable.

He’s naked. You willed yourself to only look at his eyes

“It’s right here” he states, “don’t tell me you’re too blind to see it.”

You look around, did you forget a fresh set of towels? Or maybe forgot to change the floor mats?

“I-I’m sorry but -“

“Come here” he’s obviously irritated, although there’s barely any change in his tone

 And no way in hell are you going to disobey your boss. You knew too well what his family’s profession was; What his profession was

So, you do as he says

Once in his reach he tugs you close, ignoring the gasp that you let out, and pushes you to your knees in front of him.

“Can you see the problem now?” And hell yes you do. He’s hard, and all you can do is stare with wide eyes

“Master Illumi I-“

His hand comes to the back of your head, pushing forward until your lips are pressed against the tip.

“You did this. Now fix it.” He states bluntly, No more care in his voice than if he had just asked you to turn down his sheets.

Would you get fired for this? After all it was his mother who signed your checks.. but it’s not like it said “don’t suck my son’s dick” in the handbook.

His patience is wearing thin you can tell, and when you finally do part your lips the smallest amount he’s already shoving himself as far as he can go.

He hits the back of your throat in record speed, still pushing down further once he’s run out of room.

You’re gagging, spluttering around him, and if anything, it only serves to turn him on more

Not that you would know from the blank expression still on his face

“You’re not a very good maid.” He says flatly. It’s a conclusion you’re still not quite sure how he’s come to

But its not like you had any room to question him

He grips your hair to pull you back, before plunging into your throat again

“Maids are supposed to be discreet. But you … you smell... It’s something sweet. On my sheets, my pillows, my towels. It all smells like you.”

Your lungs burn as he keeps you there, tears flowing freely down your cheeks

Its not until you start squirming, the need for oxygen so strong that you try to push him away, that he relents

He pops you off of him with a sigh, as if your need for air is disappointing to him

Ragged gasps fill the air as you try desperately to collect yourself

Voice hoarse, you take the limited time he gives you to apologize once again.

“I’m sorry master Illumi… I had no idea.”

“Of course you didn’t.” He pushes you back onto him. This time keeping a steady pace.

“Your perfume It’s pretty cheap, actually.”

You can’t really respond and you’re kind of glad. What would you even say to that?

His cock is fucking your throat raw. As well as his death grip on your head...As it stands, you couldn’t really do much of anything

Your hands come up to his thighs trying to maintain your balance as he gets rougher, adding a snap of his hips to the rhythm he’s set.

“I saw you bent over on my bed, changing my sheets. You lack a certain sense of propriety that someone of your station should have.”

His other hand comes down to grab the back of your neck, the other still tangled in your hair

There’s spit running down your chin, mixing with tears as a fire grows hot between your legs.

It’s wrong. You know it is, but you can’t help yourself from clenching your thighs together in search of relief.

You try your best to adapt to his quick thrusts, tongue rubbing against the underside of his length as you hollow out your cheeks for him.

Is he enjoying it? You can’t truly tell until the very end, which seems like an eternity to your sore jaw, when he cums down your throat with a shudder.

 An almost imperceptible hitch in his breathing as he looks down at you between his legs

Not one for good bedside manner, he harshly pulls you off once you’ve swallowed it all. Illumi’s face remains mostly unchanged as he stares down at you.

“Any more mistakes and I won’t be nearly as kind.”

You wipe the spit from your face, breathing in deeply and he just continues to stare.

Not making eye contact, you apologize again, hoping that was what he wanted and then he’d leave

 It’s better not to argue with him, but you’re still not quite sure of what mistake you made.

“I can have another maid clean from now on, if that’s what you’d prefer…”

He scoffs as if it’s the most idiotic suggestion he’s ever heard

“Don’t be stupid.” Is all he says before walking around you to leave, ignoring the baffled look on your face

[mamabearcat]

🌵 What is your favorite kind of fan fiction to read?

🌹 What is your favorite kind of fan fiction to write?

Thanks @neutronstarchild 😘

Okay, I've mentioned my attachment to hurt/comfort and 'know thyself' type fics in previous asks. So I will add in the good old domestic fluff. After all, it's often in the boring everyday type activities that we learn more about each other.

Everyone the world over cooks together, and falls asleep on the sofa, and has a bad day and gets a hug from their loved one as they complain about it. Friends play cards, and watch movies, and go to amusement parks and have fun together.

All those happy emotions help to form emotional bonds, sometimes platonic, sometimes romantic, and I love those beginnings of relationships that are like intense friendship before the physical side takes hold. That crush mentality where you can't wait to be doing something with that other person, where just being by their side makes you feel happy. When even the smallest brush of their hand provokes a frisson of feelings.

For writing, even though I love my chapter fics, my beloved babies, atm I'm strapped for time, so one-shots allow me to get those ideas out of my head and onto the page much quicker. And I can be a very 'wordy' writer, so it helps me to try and curb that propensity to blather on too much.

BUT...

My main problem is that I have so many ideas that start as one shots that want to be chapter fics. So many. So if you can all put up with my tardiness on those, I am doing my best 😭

[spicycreativity]

Intertwined - Chapter 1

Rating: Teen

Content Warnings: It's a hanahaki fic, so. Mild body horror, blood, respiratory illness. (Starts at Ch 3 and gets worse from there).

Characters: All

Pairing: Moceit

Additional Notes: This one was supposed to be Darker and Longer, but turns out I'm not in the headspace to write angst atm, so it ends up moving p fast. Swaps between Janus and Patton's POVs. Post-PoF, light angst. Not whump. They both get hanahaki, but there is absolutely no version of Moceit in my mind where Janus isn't the one who falls first. My AO3 username is WizatdGlick.

Summary: The story of how Janus and Patton find each other at rock bottom and fall in love anyway.

A gentle knock on Janus' door drew him out of his thoughts. He donned a mask of triumph as he rose to open it, straightening his hat as he went. It couldn't be Remus; Remus never knocked so softly, which meant that Janus had to perform. He slid into the role with difficulty, struggling to find the edges of this gloating persona when all he felt was numb and tired and lost.

It was Patton at the door, and Janus felt everything slip, and Patton's eyes lit up with recognition, and all of Janus' resolve fell away in the face of that beseeching gaze.

"Come for another debate?" Janus asked in a low voice, making no effort to hide his ironical smile.

Patton smiled too, though he dropped it a moment too soon. Janus got the distinct impression that Patton was also far too wrung-out to put on any kind of act tonight. "Just came to check on you."

It would be as natural as breathing for Janus to draw back, place his fingertips delicately to his chest, widen his eyes. ' Check on me?' he would say, all faux-innocence, ' Please, Patton, I'm not a child. I don't need your pity.'

But he didn't.

Here was Patton, reaching out, and hadn't that been what Janus had wanted all along? That tiny, fervent flame that he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge, that smallest ember of hope that someone might just give him what he was convinced he had to take.

The seconds stretched out until the silence verged on awkward, and Janus' pride stood up to do what his cunning would not: "I'm fine." He was fine, strangely. Not happy, as he perhaps should have been, but nothing hurt.

Patton's brow furrowed. "Am I supposed to believe that?" he asked gently.

Something warm and soft and dangerous bloomed in Janus' chest at Patton's look of confusion. He had freckles on his nose, scattered like spilled cinnamon: a trait assigned by Thomas’ subconscious. "Patton," Janus said, flicking his gaze upwards to meet Patton's eyes. "Would you like to come in?"

"To your room ?" Patton asked, eyes widening. He looked past Janus' shoulder and Janus fought not to move and block Patton's gaze with his body. He had just invited Patton in; there was no point getting shy now. "Won't that, y'know, do something to me?"

"It's just a matter of self-control," Janus said, hoping to get a smile out of Patton.

Sure enough, Patton did smile. "What color is my shirt?"

Janus said, "True blue," and stepped backwards to let Patton in.

It was a risk to bring someone into his room like this, but he felt unusually clear-headed tonight, calm and strangely secure despite the fact he had just let a known enemy past his defenses, and despite the exhaustion that made every breath feel heavy.

"Warm in here," Patton remarked, looking around.

Janus motioned him over to a set of armchairs. To be seen was to be judged, and he wasn't sure what he would do if Patton found him lacking again . "I have a question for you, Patton."

In the low light, the tear tracks on Patton's cheeks glimmered when he tilted his head inquisitively. "You do?"

Janus nodded, slow and calculated. He was sure he already knew the answer to the question, and preemptive anger bubbled thick and hot in his veins. "Who," he said, unable to keep from glaring, "came to check on you?"

"Well," said Patton, "Ah… They don't-- Everyone's upset right now--"

"And you're not?" Janus demanded. "And don't you dare tell me that you're fine." His emotions were running too hot; he needed to check himself, but seeing Patton make excuses filled him with a passion he'd only ever felt on Thomas' behalf.

"I am--"

"Don't."

"But I have to be," Patton whispered. "I can't-- I know they told me… They said it was okay for me to be sad, but--"

"If you fall apart, there's no one there to pick up the pieces," Janus guessed. "Sure, you can be sad, as long as it doesn't interfere with your role."

"Don't be mad at them," Patton pleaded, and Janus realized with a jolt that he would get into no one's good graces by slinging around insults.

"It's just hard," Janus said plainly, only half-noticing the words coming out of his mouth. He had just become aware of a keen and sickening new desire, borne on the back of a newfound respect for Patton that he had even lasted this long without having some sort of spectacular breakdown. Janus' whole chest ached with it, that and the equally sickening knowledge that he had just become horrifically vulnerable, that he had fallen under a spell he could never hope to break.

He saw it in his mind's eye: he saw himself stand and lean over, take Patton's jaw in his hands, kiss him long and deep and slow. He saw himself lay his body and soul bare before Patton, getting on his knees to forgive Patton all his perceived flaws. He meant well, after all. He only ever meant well, and it wasn't really his fault that those good intentions were capable of morphing into a cruel and deadly weapon.

But he would plunge that weapon straight into Janus' heart before their lips could ever even meet. Janus could see it now, Patton pulling away in confusion and disgust. His tenuous patience would give out then and there, and Janus would have no hope of acceptance ever again. Same for Remus, probably. They would remain Dark Sides forever, damned to be eternal outcasts. All thanks to Janus' pathetic inability to control himself.

"Why do you care so much about…" Patton hesitated for a moment and gave a shallow sigh. "Well, about me?"

And now Janus found himself walking a chasm’s edge. His instinct was to lean hard into the opposite of the truth and insult Patton so deeply that he left and never came back. Eliminate the threat. But that wasn't an option now of all times. No, he had to maintain a friendship with Patton, somehow. He had to keep himself under control. How fun. "You're a part of Thomas," Janus said. He paused.

"So are the others."

"You've earned my respect."

"Oh," said Patton. "Wow, um. Gosh, that's…" His lower lip trembled. "I should go," he said in a broken voice.

Janus surveyed him in silent agony, teetering on the precipice of a lie. With a monumental effort, he pulled himself away from it and opened his arms. "Come here."

The floodgates opened. Patton fell into Janus' lap, already sobbing. Janus held him, all his muscles stiff and awkward. He was much smaller in the mindscape than he was in Thomas’ eyes and it was difficult to support Patton’s much larger frame. A sharp pain flared in Janus’ collarbone where Patton had buried his forehead and his tears were already starting to seep through Janus' clothes. He cringed at himself and the absurdity of the situation, wishing he had some way to make it better. He should have had words for this, all the right words to soothe away Patton's worries and set him right again. But he was so tired.

"I'm s-s-sorry," Patton said through shuddering sobs that dug his forehead harder into Janus' clavicle.

"It's okay," Janus said, concentrating hard on keeping the effects of his room at bay.

"Are you--" Patton sniffled " --sure you're okay?"

A rush of affection melted Janus' heart and he sighed and held Patton closer despite the shooting pain in his collarbone and the ache in his arms. Even in the midst of a post-breakdown breakdown, Patton was self-sacrificing (self- destructive) enough to check in on him. "You don't have a selfish bone in your body, do you?" Janus sighed, lamenting Patton’s bleeding heart. For some reason, this only made Patton cry harder. Janus cast his mind back to the last time Remus was this upset, found nothing, had to speculate. He and Remus and Virgil were self-sufficient, secretive. When it came to personal crises, they weathered them alone and bore the aftermath in stoicism. "Do you want me to play with your hair?"

"I don't know," Patton sobbed into Janus' chest.

Janus sighed and began to run his fingers through Patton's honey-colored hair, grateful that the thick material of his gloves kept their skin from touching. It was better this way, and a good reminder for Janus. He guarded his heart so closely for a reason.

 

Janus, despite the discomfort from the awkward weight distribution and the clammy feeling of cooled tears on his shirt, was half-asleep in the chair by the time Patton stopped crying.

"Sorry," Patton said, pulling away, and even with snot and tears all over his flushed cheeks, even with his eyes all red and puffy behind his fogged-up glasses and his hair standing up at strange diagonals from Janus' attempts at comfort, he was radiant.

"For having feelings?" Janus asked, gently imaging himself into a new, dry shirt.

"For making them your problem." Patton took his glasses off and began to polish them on the hem of his own shirt.

"Patton, I need you to know this." Janus waited until Patton looked at him before continuing, "I owe you nothing. If I had wanted you to leave, I would have asked you to leave and thought nothing of it."

Patton nodded and went back to polishing his glasses. They were silent for a long moment, during which Janus found himself unable to suppress a series of yawns. It must have been around 4:00 in the morning by this point. They had to have been the only ones awake.

"Hey, Janus," Patton said, finally putting his glasses back on. "You know The Breakfast Club?"

"Yes," Janus said distractedly, trying to figure out where Patton was going with this.

"This wasn't our version of that, was it?"

"What do you mean?"

"When tomorrow comes and we're back to, to some sort of normal… You'll still be my friend, right?"

Now here was a situation Janus had never once envisioned for himself. He had pictured winning over Roman, had pictured gaining Thomas' support. Never once had he expected real friendship with any of them, let alone Patton. "Yes," he said, feeling sick at the irony of it. He had been comfortable as Patton's enemy, was now yearning for his kiss… How could he be friends with Patton when he burned like this for Patton's wholehearted affection? Was he really just supposed to endure it?

Patton smiled, so sweet and earnest that Janus had to bite down on his tongue. "Good," he said. "Speaking of, do you wanna have breakfast with me?"

"Not right now, I hope," Janus teased.

"No, no, not right now." Patton muffled a yawn into his sleeve. "I guess I'd better go."

Janus nodded. "See you in the morning?"

"Um," said Patton, who didn't appear to have been listening. "Thank you, Janus. You didn't have to-- Well, thank you."

He sank out without another word.

Janus imagined himself into his pajamas, imagined the lights off and threw himself onto his bed. "Fuck."

 

--

 

Frigid air seeped from the hallway seeped under the crack where Janus' door stopped just short of the carpet. He didn't allow himself to notice, and continued to put his outfit on piece by agonizing piece. The cold air made his joints slow and achy, and he struggled to get the clasps done up. It was just as well that he hadn't put on his gloves yet. He had become quite adept at handling things while wearing them, but for this task, the bulky fabric would only get in the way. After all, just like his singular snake fang, his gloves were for aesthetics, not function.

Finally, he donned his hat and faced the door, forced to confront that fatal truth: He could never have what he wanted. The moment he had achieved his goal of Thomas’ acceptance, the triumph had slipped away in his hands to be replaced with a truly unattainable goal.

Memories from last night, the phantom sensation of Patton in his arms, teased him until he had to sneer at himself. Pathetic. He was acting pathetic. Falling for Patton was strategically inadvisable, even if he couldn’t help it, but actively pursuing him was out of the question. It was all-risk, no reward. Still, his treacherous heart fluttered, teasing him with the thought of Patton’s lips on his own, Patton’s hands on his body, sharing heat, deepening the kiss--

“All risk,” Janus said out loud to himself, “no reward.” A mantra to see him through. He opened his door, his gloved hand slipping a little on the polished brass of his doorknob, and nearly walked straight into Remus as he passed by with an armful of dismembered dolls.

“Well,” said Janus, tilting his head to better examine the pile of plastic limbs and bodies in Remus’ arms, “I won’t ask what you’re up to.” He stifled a yawn behind his hand, visualizing a piping hot cup of coffee. A shudder wrecked his concentration and he frowned. “Are you the reason it’s so cold in here?”

Remus ignored the question, his feverish eyes darting from Janus’ mouth to his hand to his face. “I knew you were up late last night. That’s why I came this way.” He gave a crooked but strangely boyish grin. “I wanted to know where you’d gotten off to. Or who you’d gotten off with. ”

Janus, to his horror, blushed. Fragmented images flashed through his head-- What if he had kissed Patton? And Patton had kissed back? Mask, mask, mask! “I was spreading the Gospel.”

“You were spreading something , though, weren’t you?” Remus shifted the dolls in his arms and held up a masculine torso. “I know I heard Big Daddy’s voice. Play a little game of Patton- Snake , did you?”

Janus swore he could hear porcelain cracking as his heart began to race. “In all seriousness, Remus, we did reach an agreement.”

“Sounds like you reached more than that.” Remus waggled his tongue.

God, he was relentless when he was on the scent of something. Janus hid his face behind his hands, realizing a moment too late that this display of shame would only add fuel to the fire. So he took the only option left and muttered, “Boundaries,” into his palms.

“Oh,” said Remus, leaning back on his heels. “ Oh. Janus, you didn’t .”

“Of course we didn't!” Janus hissed, dropping his hands.

"But you wanted to?"

“How much did you hear yesterday, anyway?”

“Oh, I heard the whole debacle, including that heartwarming little moment at the end,” Remus said, rocking forward onto his toes. “Thanks for putting in a good word for me, by the way.”

They fell into an awkward silence as Janus once again reached for words that simply weren’t there. “I didn’t mean it,” he said finally, cursing himself.

“No?” said Remus. “Not even a teeny tiny little bit?” He poked Janus in the chest with the plastic torso, still clenched in his left hand. “Right here?”

“You,” said Janus, “are just as evil as I am.”

Remus backed off with a grin, leaving Janus in doubt that he had ever even been angry in the first place. “So where are you off to now? Roman’s got this place awfully cold; gonna go warm Patton’s snake?”

“You already made a ‘Patton snake’ joke,” Janus said, slamming another mask onto his face to hide his blush. “But to answer your question, he asked me to join him for breakfast.”

“Aww.” Remus wiped fake tears from his cheeks. “You better not start spending too much time with him or I’m going to get jealous.”

[kelyon]

How about a peak at the next chapter of Golden Rings?

Sure!

The first thing Ruby did was scrawl OUT OF ORDER on the back of some receipt paper and tape it over the card swiper. The machine was working fine, but it could take up to three business days for the company to deposit the funds from card purchases into their bank account. Ruby didn’t have three business days. 

“What do you mean by this?” Albert Spencer said when he came up to the counter to pay for his meal of liver and onions and decaf black coffee. He held up his platinum credit card  like it was the world’s smallest battle axe. “Why can’t I use my card?”

“Sorry!” Ruby lied in her cheerful customer service voice. “We’ve got the guy coming in to fix it on Monday. Right now it’s cash only, but there’s an ATM right across the street.”

“I’m not going across the street!” The old man was so angry it was like she had told him the card machine was at the bottom of a full dumpster. “How dare you not accept my card? I’ve got a fifty thousand dollar limit!”

“But you don’t have ten bucks to pay for dinner?” The words were out of Ruby’s mouth before she could stop them. She was too busy thinking of all the problems in her life that would be solved with just five thousand dollars. Or even five hundred.

[heylookafanfic]

A Dish Served Cold: Chapter 1

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader, Hank Voight x Reader

brief summary: Hank Voight was the most ruthless man in Chicago. It’s practically a death wish to hurt anyone he loves. When a former inmate is released from jail, they go for his weak spot to seek revenge.

Author’s Note: Hey howdy ho! This is my 1st story ever so please show it some love if you liked it and also, don’t forget to tell me if you want a part 2 because I’m itching to write a 2nd chapter but only if this chapter does well.

word count: 2,079 words

requested: Nope, original! (send in those requests!) warnings: kidnapping, being held at gunpoint, copping a feel, death of a loved one, finding out a loved one died

Jay Halstead had not only been your partner but your childhood best friend. You consider yourself lucky that the universe would keep the both of you close for so long. Not only did you get to work with your best friend but your boss, the notorious Hank Voight, was your godfather. Hank became your godfather before you were born.

*Flashback*

Your father was his partner and best friend and when news got around the CPD that Officer Y/L/N and his wife were expecting, Hank was the first one to know and consistently check up on your mom when your dad was working overnights. While they were planning things for your birth, your parents knew that if anything were to happen to them, Hank would go to the ends of the universe to keep you safe. It was a no-brainer to make him your godfather.

One day, they invited him over for dinner to ask him. He nearly choked on his wine when they did. That was possibly one of the best moments of his life, especially knowing that he’d have a kid in his life, although it wasn’t his biological child. When you were born, he couldn’t believe his eyes at how precious you were. From that moment, his mission in life was to ensure that even the smallest of threats would never even find out about you. He chaperoned every school field trip, cheered you on through your sports phase, attended every birthday party, dance recital, and school function. Jay was intimidated by him because although you two were best friends, your uncle made sure it stayed that way by keeping him in check.

Flash forward to your 8th grade year, you had the perfect life. Perfect grades, a tight knit family that supports you through everything, and an amazing friendship in Jay. What could be better than that? The evening you left for soccer tryouts was an evening you’ll never forget. In the middle of doing drills, a CPD vehicle rolls up to the parking lot of your school’s field. A man hops out of the driver's seat and talks to the coach.

“Y/N! Come here kiddo”

You jogged to the two men

“This is Officer Olynski with the Chicago Police Department. You need to go with him, okay?”

“Why? My mom is picking me up at 7:30” you asked

“Hey Y/N, I’m a friend of your dad and your uncle Hank. Your uncle wanted me to pick you up early. Is that cool with you?” Officer Olynski asked

“Um, okay I guess?” you responded

You grabbed your gear bag and hopped in the back seat.

The ride to your house was quiet other than Al’s walkie-talkie.

“What’s going on?” you asked

“Your uncle will tell you all about it when we get to your house” he said

Only a block away from your home, you could hear police sirens wailing. It wasn’t just one, it sounded like multiple. Butterflies started settling in your stomach. As Olynski pulled up to your house, you could see police tape surrounding your yard and multiple police cars parked in the front.

“What’s going on?” you asked with a shaky breath

Hank comes out of the front door and walks to the car. Opening the back door, he slides in the back with you.

“Uncle Hank, what’s going on? What happened?” you asked

He had looked like he just cried. You had never seen him like this.

“What happened?!” you shouted

He and Al gave each other sad glances.

“Kiddo, I’m so sorry”

“What do you mean?”

The car went quiet

“Your mom and dad died” he said

Everything went silent. Nothing made sense. This had to be one giant prank, right? The world seemed to slow down, time stopped and you felt lightheaded.

“Y/N?” Al asked

You sat there and still couldn’t process the news. Your uncle hugged you and sat in the back with you for what seemed like forever. The two of you cried together but Hank knew he had to be strong for you. From that moment, his duties of godfather began and he didn’t miss a beat hopping into action.

*Present Day*

You had a great job with an even better crew to work with especially because Jay was your partner. He had always made it a thing to walk you home after any event. 8th grade formal? High school homecoming? Soccer practice? Even at your parents’ funeral, he was there for you through all of it. Ever since childhood, making sure you got home safely was his number one priority.

It had been a long day, considering you just finished a 12 hour shift. Chasing after the bad guys,

You were in the locker room, packing up before clocking out. As you're stuffing your uniform in your duffle bag, a voice calls out.

"Y/N? You in here?"

"Yep, right here"

Jay appeared from behind the row of lockers.

"Hey, you ready? I wanted to stop by Molly's real quick before we head home. That okay with you?"

"Yeah, I'll be out in a sec" you said

He shot you a smile and left to clock out.

You grab your duffle bag, close and lock your locker and leave.

"See ya Trudy!" you said walking past the front desk

"Have a good night kiddo! Don't forget, I need those reports by Tuesday" she said

"Noted!"

Jay was in the front of the precinct waiting for you as usual.

"It's about time!" he joked

The two of you were on the way to Molly's. Tonight was fundraiser night and neither you nor Jay were ones to socialize but everybody there is practically family so stopping by for a few minutes wouldn't hurt.

"Remember in 1st grade when you got mad and put glue in Chris Henson’s hair because he didn’t pick you for kickball?" you asked

"Of course! The kid had it coming" he chuckled

"Looking back on it, it’s funny how we got pissed off over stuff like that as kids”

"See, and this is another reason why I’m thinking about not having my own kids one day. The kids gonna get my mischievous gene and get in a fight, I’ll have to do the drive of shame to their school and then I’m gonna have to play bad cop”

"You really thought that deep into that situation? " you chuckled

"Oh - hey, I need to stop by Mike’s real quick and grab some cash"

"Good call, I forgot the bar is cash only tonight”

Stepping into Mike’s Convenience Store, you heard the bell above the door chime. The cashier gave you two a quick “Hello” and you head to the back to use the restroom while Jay used the ATM. 4 men walk in moments after and one stands behind him. Thinking that they were waiting to use the ATM, he didn’t think much of it. The machine dispensed his cash and he quickly puts it in his wallet. It was eerily quiet despite the broken store radio playing static.

One of the men walks over to the door and locks it. Jay was on high alert. “Shit” he thought to himself. Suddenly, another man, this one stockier than the others, pulls a gun from the back of his pants.

“Jay Halstead” the man said menacingly

He sighed and turned around

“This moment has been 4 years in the making, my friend.” the man said holding Jay at gunpoint

“Listen, I don’t want any problems” Jay said

“Shut up! I’m gonna talk and you’re gonna listen”

All he could think about was you. If you walk out of the bathroom, you’ll be in the wrong place at the wrong time and if anything were to happen to you, he could never forgive himself. He hoped that by some circumstance, the door would jam so you’d be safe.

“Do you remember me?” he asked

Jay shook his head

“You really don’t remember me, do you?” he asked again

Jay got a good look at the man’s face. It still didn’t ring a bell.

“Let me introduce myself then. Andrei Romero. You arrested me at the corner of Beacon and Oxford about 4 years ago. There was a warrant out for my arrest because I was tied to a double homicide involving one of your officers.”

That’s when it hit him. October 7th, 2015. The day his partner, Erik Steele, was killed on duty. How could he forget? That was the worst day of his life. He and Erik were dispatched to do a welfare check on a house when neighbors heard screaming. Erik knocked on the door but it was cracked open. Guns drawn, they carefully went in and announced themselves. Still no answer, Jay searched up stairs and Erik searched downstairs. Just as soon as Jay gave the all clear for upstairs, 3 gunshots were fired. He ran downstairs and saw Erik on the kitchen floor with a bullet hole in his neck and blood quickly painting the tiled floor red. There was nothing he could do for him but begin basic first aid, call for an ambulance and wait.

“Sounds familiar” Jay said gritting his teeth

“You were also there when Voight interrogated me. He told you to leave but what you don’t know is, after you left, Hank threatened me with jail time if I didn’t confess to who did it. He knew I was innocent. He got me sentenced to 4 years for a crime I didn’t commit. 4 years of my life...gone. My wife and kid? They wanted nothing to do with me and-”

You walked out of the bathroom and walked to the front of the store.

“Jay, how much did you withdr-” you spoke

Unknowingly, you walked right into your worst nightmare

“Look what we have here. Officer Y/L/N.” the man said

Your legs went numb and your feet got cold.

“This just gets even better! Don’t be shy, join us.”

You looked at Jay and he shot you a glance as to say “just do whatever he says”. Romero’s men quickly patted you down with one of them trying to cop a feel.

“You son of a-” Jay flinched

Romero shoved his gun back in his face.

“Have some decency fellas” Romero said slyly

You yanked your arm from one of his men and stood next to Jay

“Officer Y/L. Godkid of Mr. Hank Voight. Don’t you think it’s pretty risky being out this late? There’s a lot of people who love to use you to get to your godfather.” he said

“And why is that?” you asked gritting your teeth

“You don’t know what Voights been up to huh? He’s been hiding things from you, thinking you’ll never find out but karmas finally catching up to him and I’m sorry but this starts with you”

“She has nothing to do with this! Leave her out of it!” Jay shouted

He grabbed your hand, gripping it tight.

Romero’s men stepped forward as he shifted the gun towards you

“You can make this real easy or extremely hard Y/N. Either come with us or-”

He shot a bullet at the ATM

“-the next shot won’t be a warning” he continued

Jay looked at you with fear written on his face and shook his head. Although Hank is your godfather, Jay vowed to protect you too after your parents died and when Al paired you two as partners in your rookie year at CPD.

You looked at Jay and took a deep breath. Letting go of his hand was one of the hardest things you had to do. Hank had taught you enough basic self-defense to take care of yourself so, you knew you’d be fine. When Jay wouldn’t let go of his grip, you wiggled your hand out of his.

Romero’s men grabbed you and held you at gunpoint.

“Tell Voight we stopped by won’t you Jay?” Romero said with a wink

“Oh, and if you want to play ‘hero’? Don’t. You do, and they die” he continued

You didn’t get a chance to look at Jay before you were carried off into their van.

Mike’s Convenience Store was empty and so was Jay. His partner - no, best friend vanished before his eyes and he knew that statistically, the first 48 hours that a person is missing were critical and after 48 hours, their chances of being killed/ never being found doubled.

Y/N’s 48 hours started now.

Author’s Note: Thanks for reading!! This is my 1st story ever so please show it some love if you liked it and also, don’t forget to tell me if you want a part 2 because I’m itching to write a 2nd chapter but only if this chapter does well.

[freddie-roger-brian-john]

And they were roommates

A/N - sorry @casafrass , I accidentally deleted your request but here we are, a classic bed sharing fic. (Btw sorry if there isn’t a read more link, tumblr being weird atm. I know having to scroll past really long posts is annoying whoop)

Warnings - swearing, angst, fluff, cliche

Word count - 4K (longest one yet ahh)

Pairing - Joe!John Deacon x f!reader

——————

It was just one of those days. It was a day where everything little thing had gone wrong. Y/N had slept through her alarm, lost her hairbrush, her makeup hadn't come out right, the snow had soaked through her shoes, arrived at the airport late, almost missed her flight, was seated next to a mother and crying child, and the turbulence had felt like the plane was going to go down.

She was at the point where the smallest thing, even something like the strap of her handbag falling off her shoulder, would've caused tears to fill her eyes.

But, she was in America for a good reason - at least, that's what she kept telling herself. She's here to attend a joyous event where the only crying should be that of extreme glee for the two people standing at the alter.

[[MORE]]

One of her best friends, Roger Taylor, was getting married to her other best friend. She knew she was going to be maid of honour before the bride to be had even asked and so, she had accepted with grin and anticipation for the big day.

But now? Now she was wishing the pair could've just gotten married back in London.

"Oh thank god, you're here!" Roger called out as he saw Y/N walk through the hotel doors, snow in her hair, luggage in her hands, and a grimace on her face. The porter took her suitcase and bags from her and, once she was free from the burden of travelling with a 'just in case' attitude, Roger brought her into a hug.

"Christ, your coat's soaked through," he commented as her clothes sent a shiver down his spine. "You must be freezing."

"You have no idea," she told him. "The snow's up to my knees now. Why the hell did you have to have a winter wedding? Why couldn't you have gotten married in the spring like everyone else."

He smiled teasingly at your obviously horrid mood.

"Well, where's the fun in that?" He grinned. "Here, take my jacket." He took off his fur coat and, after Y/N had peeled off her own, wrapped it around her. It immediately sent warmth running up and down her body and Roger could practically hear the 'thank you' in her closed eyes and soft smile.

"And how's the fiancée?" Y/N asked. Roger's smile fell.

"Ah, well, a little stressed to be completely honest with you," he admitted. "Your's was the last flight to land here. The snow's gotten so bad that nothing else is taking off or landing."

"Shit," she said in response. "Are most of the guests here?"

"Well yes, but unfortunately that causes a whole other problem," Roger explained. "With all the people stranded in the airport and such a big party taking up rooms in the hotel, some people are going to have to double up."

This was it. This was the small thing that was going to make her cry. She shook her head, eyes to the sky, and tried to hold back.

"Well that's great," she huffed. "Please tell me I've got a decent roommate." Roger shrugged.

"The hotel's done it randomly to make things easier," he told her. "Thankfully, me and the future wife got a room together so we're all good."

"So I've most likely got a random tourist to cosy up with?" Y/N sighed, rubbing her eyes with exhaustion.

"You might get a fellow guest?" Roger tried to offer some comfort. "What room are you in? I might know who's with you." Y/N doubted her luck would be that good after such a dismal day.

"Room 46," she said, no hope evident in her voice. Roger's eyes widened. "What?"

"Nothing," He assured her, though he sounded like a child who had just been caught stealing a biscuit.

"Roger," she said sternly. He sighed, his wide eyes closing.

"I don't want to say," he said.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to hit me."

But Y/N knew who it was. She could see the answer in Roger's apprehensive stance. She could tell from the way he almost coward away from her.

Her roomie was John Deacon.

She walked right passed Roger, her shoulder accidentally hitting his as she stormed off towards the lift that would take her to the room of her nightmares.

If there was a stairway to heaven, then this was definitely her elevator to hell.

When she opened the door to room 46, Mr Deacon himself was sitting on the bed, his back to the door, facing the window. He turned at the sound of the door slamming.

"No," he said upon seeing Y/N, her hair still soaked in snow and dawning Roger's fur coat. "No fucking way, there no chance-"

"Yeah, think like that for about five minutes and you'll be where I am right now," she huffed.

John's face fell into his hands.

The pair hadn't always hated each other. In fact, there had been a time, right after Roger had introduced the two of them, where most people would've bet good money that they would start dating. However, things, as they do often do, didn't go to plan.

Conversation had turned to bickering, bickering had turned into arguments, and eventually, the two couldn't even be in the same room without screaming at each other over seemingly the smallest things. As she looked at John now, she couldn't help but recall the time she had dropped an ice cube in his kitchen, which he then accidentally stepped in with socks on. She thought she might have gone deaf with the screaming match that had led to.

Y/N didn't even know how their friendship had disintegrated. It had been like someone had flipped a switch in their minds. Her love for the boy had turned into our hatred and she knew he felt the same.

"Is there no way we can switch with someone?" John asked, his voice almost pleading. Y/N wanted to think that was a possibility but she knew the hotel staff would be too busy to sort something out and all the guests would be far to exhausted to move any belongings to a different room.

"I don't think there's enough money in the world to convince someone to share with you," she told him. He rolled his eyes.

"Good one," he said sarcastically. "And people wonder why I don't like you."

"Oh please," she said, "enlighten me." He looked at her with red burning through the brown of his eyes.

"Well it's not exactly going to be because of your winning personality, is it?" He said through gritted teeth.

"Oh just shut it," Y/N huffed, throwing off Roger's coat and hanging it up. "Look, all we have to do is spend one night in the same room. Assuming the blizzard doesn't snow us in, we'll be out by tomorrow and then all we have to do is get to the wedding without killing each other or ourselves."

"Fine," He said. "You can just stay on your side of the room and I'll stay on mine."

"Fine." Y/N went to set her things down on her bed but the sight before her instead acting as the breaking point.

She started to cry.

"Fuck!" She shouted. "Fuck everything! Fuck the wedding, fuck the hotel, fuck mother-fucking-nature!"

"What? What is it?" John demanded, jumping to his feet, the ghost of actual concern on his face.

"Fucking look around, you idiot!" She shouted. John did a 360' of the room and quickly saw what had pushed Y/N over the edge.

"You've got to be kidding," he said, his head returning to his hands. "You've got to be fucking kidding!"

Yep, that's right. There was only one bed.

"Right, I get that it's shitty but there no need to cry over it," John told her.

If looks could kill, John Deacon would have been decapitated in that moment.

He actually took a step backwards. That's how much Y/N glared at him.

"It doesn't matter anyway," John continued, his voice however, considerably softer. "You take the bed, they've probably got some extra blankets at the front desk."

The glare smashed like a dropped wine glass.

"Where are you gonna sleep?" She asked him, confused by this sudden act of generosity of John's part. He shrugged.

"I'll be fine on the floor," he told her.

How was this the same man from a minute before? The John she knew would fight her to the death for the better seat on a couch, never mind a bed to sleep in.

"You can't sleep on the floor," she said.

"You got a better idea?"

Y/N couldn't believe she was even considering this. She looked at the bed and then back at John.

"I mean, it is a double bed," she said. "It's not like we wouldn't be able to both fit on it?"

John seemed to be going through the same motion that she had when he had offered to sleep on the floor.

"What? You mean share it?" He asked. She nodded, though it felt like a helium balloon had been tied to her head to try and stop it from shaking up and down. "I mean, I guess."

She sighed. She had been secretly hoping he wouldn't take her up on her offer.

"Sure," He said more confidently. "I really didn't want to sleep on the floor." Y/N's brows furrowed.

"Then why did you offer?" John shrugged.

"Right thing to do, I suppose."

Y/N nodded, though she wasn't quite sure how she felt about the whole situation. However, her exhaustion outweighed her confusion and mixed emotions. She clapped her hands together.

"Right then," she said. "I'm gonna go get changed into my pyjamas. I'll be back in a sec."

She brought her bag with her into the small bathroom and set it down on the counter so she could look through it.

"No," she muttered to herself. There was no way she could be so stupid as to leave all but one pair of pyjamas in her bedroom back in London. "Shit shit shit shit shit."

She held up the only pair she had brought.

Every girl has a special outfit that she wears to make herself feel better. Or perhaps it was a pretty bra or a particularly lacy thong that managed to be as comfortable as it was lovely. For Y/N, she had a pair of pyjamas. They were her 'I'm sexy and I know it' pyjamas.

They were comprised of shorts that were basically pants, and a top that was basically a bra. The fabric was a thin satin with lace around the hems and to top it all off, they were pink.

She looked at herself in the mirror. These were pyjamas only a girl and her partner should see. Not a girl and her old frenemy.

However, it was all she had.

She stepped out of the bathroom to find John standing in a baggy shirt, his thick pyjama bottoms hidden breath the covers of the bed. He did a double take when he saw her.

"Sorry," she said before he could comment. "I didn't think I'd be sharing a bed with someone so this is all I have."

John shook his head.

"No, it's..." he shook his head as if to clear it. "It's fine."

Although Y/N was extremely embarrassed by the whole situation, she did find a little amusement in the redness of John's cheeks as she climbed into bed next to him.

John turned off the lamp by his side of the bed and the two were plunged into darkness. They both made sure to stay as far away from each other as possible, John almost fell of the bed at one point.

Although it would've been difficult for him to fall asleep regardless, what made things far more difficult was something that he couldn't help but notice.

Y/N was shaking almost uncontrollably. He could tell she was trying to hold back her movement but to unfortunately no avail. As he looked at her more closely, he saw goosebumps all over her skin.

And then her teeth began to chatter.

"Fucking hell," John muttered to himself, causing the still conscious Y/N to open her eyes.

"What?" She asked, a scowl becoming evident on her face.

"Can't you keep still?" He asked her, propping himself up on his elbow. "It's pretty tricky to sleep with you shivering like that."

"It's not like you can control shivering," she spat back.

"But I can't sleep with you moving," he complained. She too propped herself up and looked at him with an exasperated expression.

"What d'you want me to do about it?" She demanded. "In case you haven't noticed, it's fucking freezing and these pyjamas aren't exactly helping."

"It's not my fault you were stupid enough to leave all your others at home," he muttered to himself.

"Oh my god!" Y/N groaned. "Just shut up. I don't want to hear your complaining or your nitpicking, or your judging! I'm sick of it, John!" She sat up fully and sighed into her hands. "I can't do this."

She swung her legs off the bed and grabbed her pillow.

"What are you doing?" John asked.

"Well I can't sleep on this bed with you, can I?" She said. "Can't have me ruining your beauty sleep, can we? God forbid I'm a little cold."

He watched as she set her pillow down on the floor and laid her head down on it. She then closed her eyes and pretended to fall asleep. John would've let her stay down there had it not been for the guilt in his chest as he heard her teeth chattering even louder than before. He peered over the edge of the bed and saw her shivering so much that the friction against the carpet could've lit a small fire.

"You can't sleep on the floor," John finally said.

"Yes I can."

"You're freezing," he pointed out. "Just come back to the bed and get under the covers."

"But then you'll be distracted by my shivering," she said. "I know how annoying this must be for you." John actually had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from snapping back. He closed his eyes and tried to calm down.

"Look," He said. "Just come back into the bed." She opened one eye and saw him looking down at her.

"Say please," she told him. John could feel his face getting hotter.

"Please," He said through gritted teeth. She smirked, finally having won a small battle. As promised, she climbed back under the covers, feeling as smug as was possible in this temperature.

But the smugness quickly froze on her face and fell like an icicle from a gutter.

"John," she said, her voice quiet. John opened his eyes and stared at the back of her head.

"What is it now?"

She took a deep breath. "Please know I'm only saying this because I'm just that fucking cold," she told him. John raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I'm just thinking that maybe if we were a bit closer, our body heat would warm us both up a little."

"Oh," John faltered. "Right - um - I suppose that makes sense." Y/N could feel the mattress move and he shifted closer to her. "Um... you mean like this?" He was lying behind her, his chest a few inches from her back.

"Um, not exactly," she said. "I kind of meant like..." she screwed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. "Like spooning."

If John had been drinking, he would've spat it out.

"Spooning?"

"Yeah. I know you've probably never had the opportunity to do it before but-"

"Oh shut up," he said. But for some reason, this time her teasing remark made him smile. He quickly replaced the smile with a scowl just in case she turned around.

"Well?" She asked. John sighed. He was really cold as well, though he was better at hiding it.

"Fine," He said, wrapping an arm around her. They both immediately felt the warmth of the other. John couldn't help but notice how much bare skin he was touching.

"Thanks," she muttered, silently hoping he hadn't heard her.

"No problem."

Before the pair had grown to hate each other, they had spent countless nights in the same position. No, they never dated technically, but it would be impossible to count the amount of nights they decided it was too late to go home and so, decided to stay over at the other's house.

Y/N's mind immediately went to the last time they had done it. Of course, at the time she hadn't known it she wouldn't be held by John for years to come. She wished she had cherished those nights more. And she hoped John felt the same.

It was so comfortable. It felt as though the pair had never fallen out. Y/N supposed if they hadn't, this might've been their wedding instead of Roger's.

"Y/N," John whispered. "Is everything alright?"

She quickly wiped the tear that had slipped from her eyes and onto the arm that had been placed beneath her head in a way that John found far too familiar.

She shook her head in response to his question.

John couldn't help but feel complete concern. Years of arguments seemed to slip his mind as her turned her around to face him. She was hiding her face behind her hands, sobs now accompanying the tears.

"Sorry," she choked out.

"No, don't be sorry," John told her as he wrapped her up in his arms. "It's ok, you're ok." He wasn't quite sure what to do. "Tell me, what's the matter?"

She pulled back from him slightly so she could look at him. His brows were furrowed and his eyes read nothing but concern.

The words that followed broke John's heart.

"Why do you hate me?"

He had no idea what to say.

"Because it wasn't me who started all this, John," she continued. "It was you. You started getting annoyed at every little thing and I didn't know what to do so I just shouted back."

"I... I don't know-"

"Yes you do," she said, not taking any lies. "You've got a reason, you just won't tell me." John looked down.

"Well, what's your reason?" He asked her. She rolled her teary eyes.

"My reason?" She asked. "John, I hate you because you hate me."

He completely broke.

He hid his face in his hands and he just sobbed. Y/N was shocked. She had never seen John cry. In all the years she had known him, he had never shed as much as a tear. So she stared at him with wide teary eyes.

"I'm sorry," he told her. "I'm so fucking sorry." Now Y/N was the one who was lost for words.

"What are you sorry about?" She asked, unsure what else to say.

"I made you believe I hate you," he explained. "I don't. I could never."

He didn't hate her. Y/N could feel herself tearing up again.

"Then why did you-"

"I was scared," he told her. "Everyone was telling me I should ask you out but you were always going on dates with other guys and I- I couldn't take it. I was in love with you but you didn't love me back. At least, not in that way."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. John Deacon has been in love with her?

"And I could never tell you how I felt because i knew the feeling wasn't mutual," he continued. "So I started pushing you away like an idiot. Everything kept escalating and suddenly it I had gone too far. There was no getting our friendship back so I just kept going. I never wanted to shout at you and I was never really angry. I was just sad and pathetic and I'm so fucking sorry."

Y/N sat up, breaking free from John's arms. She stared ahead of her, looking out of the window to come face to face with the blizzard that had trapped her here.

John rose to a sitting position extremely hesitantly. It was as if he was worried any fast movements would send her running. But John didn't look out of the window. He didn't focus on the snowfall as Y/N did. Instead, he looked at her. The warm, faint light from the bathroom made her profile look golden. To John, it was like she was glowing. And he? He was in her shadow, dark and ashamed.

"Is it a joke?" She finally whispered.

John's mouth opened. Did she really think he was trying to play a trick or embarrass her? He had just poured his heart out in front of her. Despite that, he just said,

"No."

She still didn't look at him, but she seemed less tense as he said what he said.

"And," she said, "you said that you loved me."

"Yes."

"Loved. As in... past tense?"

Deciding to commit fully to his confession, John brought his hand up to her cheek. His fingertips were barely touching her, but they managed to pull her stare from the window and to him.

"No."

Y/N let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in. It came out all shuddery and delicate. "And you promise you're not just trying to make me look like an idiot?" She asked.

"Y/N, look at me," he told her. He was centimetres from her face, he needed to get the message across.  But now that he was staring right at her, he could feel his face heating up. "I love you."

"I..." Y/N looked like the words were stuck in her throat. But even just the first syllable made John's heart soar. She felt the same, she was going to tell him! Years of arguments were about to all be swept under the rug.

"I need some sleep."

She took his wrist and gently pulled his hand away from her face.

"What?"

"I just need some time to process all this," she explained.

"What's to process? I just told you how I felt," John said back, clearly frustrated.

"John, we've not been friends for years," she said. "And you're expecting me to forget every argument just like that? What, did you think we were just gonna sweep everything under the rug?"

John knew her cheeks were red. He felt so fucking stupid, so silly. He shook his head.

"You're right," he said. "Sorry. I'll let you sleep on it and everything. I know you're tired."

She nodded and lay back down, facing away from John.

He wasn't taking that as a good sign. But there was nothing more to be said so he just lay down behind her, feeling lighter than he had a few minutes ago.

"Deaky?" He heard her whisper after a few moments of silence. His heart lurched.

"Yes?"

"I'm still cold."

John smiled. He smiled so warmly that it alone could've heated up the girl in the silky jammies.

He wrapped an arm around her and, in no time, they were both asleep.

(Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please reblog and give me some feedback! (Or just reblog))

[shortpirateking]

what would the girls be like if they were split like the urskeks? the crystal and the world itself is insane like they could be split by the darkening or the crystal by accident. i imagine there be difference but i think thra would split them into a near skeksis and urRu but little difference compared to the urskeks were a skeksis is innovative active flawed and an urru is peaceful conceptal thinker also passive i think the lucky split would be a random brag bag of traits that set them apart.

(I’m feeling better atm so I think I can answer this one well enough)

(also I assume you mean readers, though they are all gender neutral save for Emmelyn(female), and I(genderfluid so either male or female)

In truth it would be a bit jumbled. When the Urskeks split, it was when the crystal was pure, and they themselves were trying to purify the evils within their souls. 

So, putting this into perspective, a darkened crystal would certainly bring about a different outcome, or maybe similar. I’d assume the split would be by accident more than purpose, so whatever the reader was thinking would heavily dictate how the split would be like(So if one wished they were stronger, one half would get all the strength and the other would be all the traits that they see as ‘weak’)

The way the Skeksis and Urru look kinda remind me of Thra itself, so  I would fathom a guess the human splits would look similar to some being or two similar to thra itself…whether that means similar to skeksis or gelfling I’m not sure.

Maybe they look pretty similar to their original selves, maybe not. I’ll try to draw some concept arts if I can (or if others can because you guys are far more creative in that department)

As for what the babes would be like if they were split(I know they would not have their memories, but I assume they would still hold quirks that came from their past and memories, though they wouldn’t know why), I’m going to go with the conventional Urru/SkekSis split-

Emmelyn: Her split would be based upon her caring nature. Because of this her ‘skeksis’ half would take on the more destructive and protective nature of it, to near suffocating for the ones she places her protection over. Her temper would be short and anyone who dares hurt or tease the ones she’d protect would get an earful

However, her Urru half would be a lot calmer, wishing instead to help better the ones she cares for. She would hold a protective nature over them, but in a more subtle, self sacrificing way. She’d go through fire for them, and basically be a parental figure to all the others.

Morgan: Skeksis half would certainly be more like a pirate, ruthless and brutal, enjoying the life’s pleasures, unabashed, and nearly obnoxious. They’d drink until drunk and shout songs at the top of their lungs until they lose their voice

Their Urru half would be more reserved. They would be as tough as nails but also take pleasure in the smaller, easier parts of life. Instead of sailing or adventuring they’d be swimming about pools of water, soaking up sun, and living their best life

Miriam: probably one of the more similar to their original self before the split. The ‘darker’ half would probably be more snarky, less afraid and more willing to speak out. This side probably tends to hide in the darkness well and notice every little detail of the world, but maybe not the people themselves. 

The ‘lighter/urru’ half would be pretty much good ole’ scardy cat, but with a lot more fear. They’d hide often and be a bit overly fearful of the world around them, but a master of hiding and being undetected. This side would be better at reading others, and their voice would be so soft it would sound more like the wind.

Aarya: Honestly I feel like their illness would be the main reason for their split, since it has taken up so much of their life. 

What I mean by this is- One half would be all that feared and loathed it, the one who grasps for life, for a cure, for anything to allow them to survive longer, and live like a normal being. They’d probably also try to ignore it, going about their day as if they never were born with it, even if it causes them to faint and fall terribly ill.

Their ‘good’ half would be the part that fully accepts it, knowing it will happen and all they can do now is accept it and enjoy the life they have now. The most in tune with the world around them, they would appreciate all the simplistic parts of life. Probably would give the best advice as well, full of knowledge beyond their years.

Talliesin: Their skeksis half would most likely be rather…loathing of life, for its wrongfulness, for what it had done to them.For the split, for the fact they are connected to another being that looks similar to them but isn’t. They are bitter, and tend to grumble and sulk more often than not. Their music is harsher, and can send anyone into angered frenzy if they wish

Their urru half would be similar to Ursol, but instead of being able to control thra, they would influence the emotions of others- Their music can comfort, heal, bring safety to those who are scared. They would be a parental figure, similar to Emmelyn, though they would be the one to cheer them up, bring them happiness.

Artemis: Strength would be both halve’s strong suit. The Skeksis half would be more of a war like being, enjoying the thrill of overpowering their enemies, but would also tend to bully anyone who annoys them(SkekSIl). They always enjoy proving themselves to be the strongest, and will constantly get into any and all fights to show off their strength.

Their UrRu would be much calmer. They would still be strong, but they’d inherit their calmer nature, the playful and chill side. They would often help out with lifting things, but they’d prefer enjoying life and such than constant battle. 

Both sides are still Ace AF

and Ariel(me, I’m not sure if you wanted me or not but others have so why not?):

To put it simply…since I’m me and not a character, there’s a lot more aspects for me to consider(especially when it comes to childhood trauma and mental illnesses)..but i’ll try to simplify it the best I can:

My skeksis half would be the one to internalize all the hatred and abuse taken, and instead throwing it back onto the world with a roar. I’ll make this one a he. 

He, would most likely be the most chaotic, strong but uncontrollable. He hates seeing weakness and refuses to allow himself to feel sorrow or pain, which only worsens his own conditions. He has a hatred for being talked down upon, or ordered around, which leads to a lot of misbehaving and punishments. When he is belittled or talked down upon, made to feel weaker or insignificant, he will snap, roaring and willing to rip out the throat of the one who spoke to him like that. He would have constant anxiety, yet ignore it. He’d probably have all my bad coping mechanisms, and a constant fear and thoughts of death, always weighing upon his mind. He is, however fiercely protective of the ones he cares for. He will inherit all my fighting and strength

My Urru half would probably be rather…bad as well. She’d have my depression and other problems. Anyone who raises their voice at her will send her into a panic, curling up and crying for forgiveness. She doesn’t know *why* it sends her into such a panic, but it does. She always doubts herself, always feels like she isn’t good enough.

She if often within her own world, her mind being her main solace, and when not, often contemplate life and death and what it means, maybe if anyone would miss her if she left… She would certainly inherit my musical and acting talents, preferring to make music about fantastical worlds than fight. In fact, she would hate fighting. She would be a pacifist at heart. She would care for even the smallest of animals, crying if they perished, whether or not if she could help them or not.

One thing bother would share is their hatred of being alone. That’s when the darker thoughts creep in, and Urru me would often seek out another to hold and hug during the night, if not she’d awaken shortly after from a nightmare or unable to sleep. SkekSis me would try to ignore it, not wanting to show this weakness, even as the thoughts grow darker, even if he awakens after a nightmare and is trapped in sleep paralysis.

He if often moody too because of this, given he barely ever gets sleep.

Probably one of the few Urru/Skeksis that kinda hate each other but would almost certainly cling to the other once together.

[aheavenofhell]

Shooting Stars

dedicated to and inspired by @mindsummerdream

The thing about being an astronomer is, you don't get much, well, face to face contact in your profession. That is to say, though Crowley can gaze at the stars from afar, he has never had the opportunity to actually look at one—to touch it, feel it, look at it up close. So when the London Center of Space Exploration writes him an email describing an asteroid that they think will hit Shaftesbury, and they want him to go and take samples, he is, of course, ecstatic. Normally, geologists do the collecting bit, but apparently a professor at the Center had read a rather reputable paper by A J Crowley and had decided he would be exactly the man for the job. Crowley couldn't possibly disagree. A shooting star is, of course, not really a star. It is actually tiny bits of dust and rock called meteoroids, that, when spiraling into Earth's atmosphere, begins to burn. If anything survives the flames and hits earth—that is what we call meteorites. The flames are what cause the fantastic streaks of light that spin through the sky. Why does this happen? Sometimes, as the Earth orbits the Sun, it passes through debris left by a comet. This causes a meteor shower. Of course, Crowley is after an asteroid, which is like a much bigger version of a meteorite. Crowley had watched many meteor showers, but had never actually come in contact with one. He didn't have any type of proper geological sampling tools, so he settled on taking gloves and plastic bags and a sharpie, for labeling the bags. Oh, and a bottle of Loire Rose. He preferred dark, dry wine for special occasions, and it would be a celebration, of course. The professor on the phone had warned him specifically not to go to the area during the shower, but he dutifully ignored that and took a train to Shaftesbury the next morning. He shacked up in a nice local inn for the night, where he spent most of his time methodically looking over the pictures that determined the asteroid's orbit and descent. Exactly where it was going to hit was sketchy at best, but Crowley had a sort of sixth sense about this one. He wouldn't know if he was right until the next evening. He packed up his backpack of essentials, grabbed his smallest telescope, and started his trek. Shaftesbury was a rural town, small, quaint. Crowley preferred London's bustle and noise, but he could appreciate places like this—places where the light of the city didn't drown out the lights in the sky. It was an excellent place to set up a telescope and wile the night away. Of course, he would've liked to have someone to do it with. Got a bit. . .odd. Just talking to yourself about things. He would like to have a pair of eager ears once in a while, someone else who saw the same beauty in the universe he did. Oh well. Maybe someday. For now, he focused on where his astronomy-senses were taking him. He ended up in a large, empty field. It would be very nice if the asteroid were to land there, because it would make finding all the pieces much easier. Crowley sat down in the grass, opened his bottle of wine, and waited. For maybe an hour, he sat, just drinking and watching. He never lost his sense of childish wonder when it came to space—every time he looked up, he still felt that same sense of excitement and curiosity. What's up there? Will I ever see it? He was about to. It came streaking through the sky at exactly 12:34 AM. Crowley knew, because as it did he scrambled to check his watch and write the time down before watching in amazement as it soared just over the treeline, the light dying as it fell. He gathered up his things and ran in the direction it had gone. He wasn't too far off, because it ended up only being about a two kilometers away. Of course, two kilometers feels a bit longer when it is night time and there are mosquitoes about and the terrain is rough. Still, not too shabby. He brandished his flashlight as he swept the landscape, hunting for the crater. There it was. Big! Much bigger than he thought it would be! He felt a fresh wave of excitement wash over him. Cautiously, he approached the crater—all organic matter left would certainly be hot. But he could, at least, look at it. He got to the edge, shined his flashlight down, and— There was no asteroid at all. There was a man. There are several reasons Crowley found this extremely disconcerting: 1. A lack of asteroid was, admittedly, very disappointing. 2. The man was not burning himself alive, somehow. 3. The man was glowing. “Hello?!” Crowley yelped, because it was the only thing he could think to say. “Erm, hello!” the man in the crater said. “I seem to have made a bit of a mistake. Oh dear, this is very embarrassing. Gabriel will not be happy with me—“ “Isn't it hot down there?” Crowley asked, deciding that the best way to handle this would be to roll with it. “It's a bit toasty, just comfortable, I'd say. Oh no! Now this is a problem.” This is where Crowley was doubly confused. He was almost as confused as the first time he'd used an ATM. Because the man had just stretched out a feathered wing from his own back. And it looked. . .not good. The bird-man flinched as he attempted to flex it. It was bent all the wrong way. “That's a wing,” Crowley said stupidly. “It's a problem,” bird-man agreed. He climbed out of the hole. “I'm sorry, I don't think I properly introduced myself. I'm Aziraphale.” He stuck out his hand. Crowley, dumbfounded, shook it. “Crowley,” he said. “And, ehm, what exactly. . .are you?” “Oh yes. I'm an angel, a Principality, to be precise. I was popping over here for a visit, they have the best fish'n chips here, you know, and I must have hit something—“ “So wait.” Crowley held up his hands to pause him. “You're an angel. Like, a supernatural entity that fell from the sky.” “Just the sort.” Aziraphale smiled. It was a bit adorable. “And now your wing's injured,” Crowley added as an afterthought. “And I have no asteroid to bring back to London.” The angel frowned. “I was mistaken for an asteroid? So you're some sort of scientist, then?” “An astronomer,” Crowley clarified, a bit bitterly. Now wasn't really the time to be petty, but, well—he'd wanted his rock. Aziraphale wrung his hands. “Do you think, that, perhaps—“ he licked his lips, “—perhaps I could accompany you, back to London? I could even miracle us there, so you needn't pay for a ticket home. Just—you know, until I fix my wing.” Crowley stared at him. “You want to stay at my flat?” “You seem like a very nice human, and I'm in a rather tight spot. You see, I was already reprimanded last week over an incident with a dead cat that came back to life a bit too suspiciously—“ “You, an angel, want to stay at my flat because—because you don't want to get in trouble with. . .?” “Gabriel. Archangel. Big deal, you know.” Crowley put a hand to his forehead. Maybe he'd had a bit too much to drink. The angel was giving him an awfully pleading look, though. And his wing did look all bent and pathetic. . .and he did come here to bring back a shooting star. “Fine,” he said. What could go wrong? When Crowley woke up in his flat, a tad hungover and definitely spotty, his first thought was that he'd had a very bizarre dream. Then he heard someone humming in the kitchen. He leaped out of bed, silently hoping it was some sort of burglar, and crept into the kitchen. Nope. It was Aziraphale. He had cooked a rather nice looking breakfast, and made tea, and was now quietly humming “Water Music” and reading in a chair Crowley knew he didn't have before. “How'd you do all this?” Crowley asked, rummaging around for some aspirin and seltzer. “Good morning,” Aziraphale said, looking up in surprise. “I went shopping—your fridge and cabinets are rather barren, you know, and thought you might enjoy a spot of breakfast.” Crowley raised his eyebrows. “I meant, how did we get back here?” “Oh! A small miracle—literally. I just sort of—wished us back.” Crowley decided that was enough information for now. “How's the wing?” he asked. Wincing, the angel stretched it out. It looked worse than before. Crowley tentatively touched it, and Aziraphale immediately flinched. “It will heal,” the angel muttered. “Want an aspirin?” Crowley said, in an attempt to be helpful. “That's very kind, dear boy, but I think some rest will be the best medicine.” Crowley shrugged, and found very suddenly that his hangover was cured. Maybe having an angel around wouldn't be so bad. For the next week, Crowley got to know Aziraphale a bit. His habits were niche, but not peculiar. He seemed to enjoy books, and food, and classical music. He often invited Crowley to dine out, as a sort of payment for letting him stay, and his taste in restaurants was admittedly excellent. Crowley often found him pouring over an old tome or making notes beside one. By the end of the week, they had fallen into a sort of comfortable pattern—they were very compatible flatmates (a rare thing indeed) and Crowley found he was actually enjoying the angel's company. He told Professor Knox that the asteroid was simply a no-show, a mistake, and went back to going to the Observatory and studying there. One evening, Aziraphale even went with him, eager to “learn something new” and perhaps even “spot that one that Uriel said looked like him”. Crowley thought it would be annoying, but. . .Aziraphale actually listened to him. He genuinely seemed to find what Crowley was saying interesting, and made comments and asked questions. By the end of the night, Crowley had smiled and laughed more times than he had in years. But the angel couldn't stay forever. His wing was healing—it got worse first, but then gradually began to heal. Angels heal faster than humans, and Crowley suspected that Aziraphale's wing had already healed a while ago. But he was just as reluctant to leave as Crowley was to let him go. “Perhaps we should talk,” the angel quietly said one night. They sat down, facing each other, and Aziraphale suddenly looked quite sad, and Crowley knew what was about to come. Aziraphale managed to meet his eyes, and smile a bit. “My wing is healed,” he said softly. “I want to thank you—for everything. You've truly been gener—“ “Right, yeah,” Crowley said, words a bit thick. “'S no problem.” Aziraphale smiled. “Well, as a thank you, of sorts—I had something arranged.” He handed Crowley a scroll. Crowley went to unravel it, but Aziraphale stopped him. “After I leave,” he explained. Crowley nodded. “Well, erm, good luck,” he said. “Back up there, Hope you don't get in any trouble.” “Thank you, dear fellow. And good luck to you here. Perhaps I could. . .visit.” They shook hands, and Crowley tried his best not to cry, or kiss him, or cry. “Right. Goodbye.”   And the angel was gone. It took Crowley a few moments to gather himself before he could properly examine the scroll. He swallowed, turning it over in his hands. It had a lovely red ribbon around it. Gingerly, he untied the bow and let the paper unravel. It read, in very elegant handwriting, like this: Anthony J Crowley, In the Name of Heaven Itself, I, Principality Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate, dub you Saint of Astronomy. May the stars glimmer in your honor. Aziraphale got back to Heaven, and found it a bit empty. “Sorry I'm late,” he told Gabriel, even though time didn't actually exist there. “Aziraphale. How is “earth” doing?” “Good, good.” He walked around for a bit, feeling strangely saddened. He wondered if Crowley was reading his letter—if he liked it. He found himself thinking about the human for a very long time. I think I must have left something in his flat, he thought hopefully. Maybe. . .my first edition copy of Dorian Gray? Now I can't have that going missing. . . “I left something, I'll be right back!” he squeaked suddenly to Gabriel. “Aziraphale—“ He disappeared. “Crowley! Are you still here? I—“ He was interrupted as a certain saint yanked him into a kiss. Oh, he thought. I think I could get used to this.

[mychemicalasthmaattack]

Hi😁

Soooo it’s come to, well everyone’s attention that there has been some negative words spread on the topic of how taron looks as Elton.... now before we go down this long ass path again, as per usual, im gonna state again that people can by all means have an opinion,

But wtf my dudes.... this is a human being, not a sex object that NEEDS to fit your fantasy.

This is an actor portraying another human being.

It’s discussing to sit back and see people who say they are supporters of Taron, yet fat shame him when FIRST OF ALL he’s not even fat for starters. Sorry he isn’t spending ALL his time making sure he is “chiseled” for your entertainment AND SECONDLY he is playing a role... as actors do, ya know cause thATS THEIR JOB!!!

No matter WHAT, Unless the person has personally come to you and asked for your opinion on their body cause your a doctor or dietitian or something, it is no one’s right (here we go again) to make someone feel like shit about the way they look! Even if they are famous.

This isn’t just for/ about taron, this is for all of these actors who are forced to manipulate their bodies cause of unrealistic expectations, or they will have their reputation “ruined” and are made to feel like absolute shit for the smallest amount of extra skin, or for being “too fat” or “too skinny”, “too muscular”, “not having enough muscle”, or for being “too light skinned”, “too dark skinned”, “having a weird face”, “being ugly”, “for being too feminine”, or “too masculine” and the list continues....

I love acting, both watching actors and acting myself, as I have since a young age. I would absolutely love to be working 24/7 as an actor one day but had to grow up with the fear of not being enough cause of how much fat and muscle I have that makes me look weird.

In all honesty, I would have killed to have had Taron’s body in Rocketman myself, even being a feminine woman, but I’m learning to love MY body cause I’m happy and I am the healthiest I have ever been right now. But according to ‘social media doctors’ aka lil bitches who think they know everything, I’m morbidly obese and must love chocolate... *SIKE, I HAVE A LACTOSE FREE DIET AND ACTUALLY HATE CHOCOLATE KIDS( that was unneeded but yolo there’s some info on a sister).

Morel of the story is we are here for loving and respecting actors for the way they look no matter what, BUT WE AINT HERE FOR BULLYING THEM FOR THE WAY THEY LOOK. And this isn’t me having a go at people who say the personally feel more attracted to a type, but it’s me having a go at people who talk shit about someone and their looks who is working hard, just cause they are jealous or have some sort of phobia of fat... which is no one’s problem but your own. So cut the shit cause we need more realistic body types and more diversity in acting to open up peoples eyes to reality.

My grammar was probably shit in all of that and I’m sorry for the swearing but after hearing taron (and Richard) especially talk about how they feel in the looks department, and also growing up in a not so excepting environment, I just feel something needed to be said ( yes I know that others have had a say on this and I love you guys I just needed to vent atm)

So if you don’t mind I’m gonna get back to my Community and Family Services assessment so I can leave school in 10 weeks to hopefully go to an drama school. So spread the word of self love and being happy and healthy in your own skin💖or nah idgaf

If there is a problem you feel you need to raise regarding this, feel free to DM me and if it’s just pure hate on what I said please kindly fuck off cause I don’t need your insecurities extinguishing my self confidence😘 BYYYYYYE

(Oop disclaimers real quick. When I said the whole “not a sexual object” thing, I’m not saying to that I’m “offended” by people who talk about his ass and thighs and what not, cause I’m one of those people and he has made it clear he is fine with it. That was too the people who believe other people NEED to look a way for their own sexual desires.... now thinking about it the amount of times I said something regarding sexual desire or I had cursed, this is probs gonna be taken down Y E E T 🤷🏻‍♀️)

*here, have some more random photos from my library that aren’t mine still*

[la-paritalienne]

black beauty e gods & monsters 🌼

ciaooo frank ♡

black beauty: ever changed something about yourself for someone you liked? how’s your mental health? what’s something that makes you think that life is beautiful?

 never on purpose, like i haven’t changed the way i dressed or acted just to please someone, but i do realise now that i’ve been influenced in the past to do some stuff that i wouldn’t have done just to be part of a group, to fit in or whatever. to a certain extent i think it’s normal, especially when you’re very young. and to this day i think it’s super nice to share passions w the people i love and expanding my horizons by listening to them talk about what they like... but anyway gjgkgkgk that’s not what the question is about so 🙈; 

my mental health is quite good atm, i think. i’m still procrastinating doing something very important bc it’s just stressful and gives me slight anxiety, and i might cry more often than what’s considered normal, and like i could use some therapy bc i think anyone could, but i don’t necessarily need it right now. like, i have problems and stuff going on that causes reactions, but all in all, i’m glad to i’m okay and grateful to be; 

the beauty of nature (special mention for my friend maria’s photos that literally make me tear up), when i discover a new song and get obsessed w it and knowing that it can always happen again bc discovering music is endless, talking with friends and just knowing that i love them so much and knowing they’re there for me too, that selfless feeling... the fact that time goes by and you never know where you’ll end up... knowing that happiness and love, even in the smallest act, can be just around the corner.

gods & monsters: do you believe that dreams mean something? any recurrent ones you had / have? how about nightmares? do you have any ‘words to live by’? 

oh i do! i went to therapy and most of what we did (well, what the doctor did) was interpreting my dreams. the brain is a complex machine, w some work it can be decoded! 

i have this place that i used to visit in my dreams, an enormous arcade built into a grotto of some sorts, with like colorful fairylights (à la stranger things??) and neon atmosphere and an overall creepy vibe when i think about it now, but i’m normally not creeped out in the dream. it’s been a while tho! there’s also a cinema there. a recurring nightmare i had was ursula the little mermaid’s witch, and being stuck in an elevator that is supposed to reach a certain floor but instead never stops (hysteria, says the doctor).

not sure i exactly have some words to live by. it sounds very christian but i just try to treat others the way i would like to be treated – with respect, kindness, tenderness and love. and like... it’s not to get something in return, just because it makes me feel good as a person, like this is how i’m supposed to act and it comes natural. i also believe that the love you give will come back to you, so like... unless it’s truly someone undeserving (but who am i to say someone’s undeserving of love??) i try to be the best version of myself even with people that don’t give me the same treatment (hello friends back in rome jgkfkdkkggkgk). that doesn’t mean i don’t complain about them... i’m human gjgffkkgkg of course, but like... ok you get it fkgkgk i’m no saint basically but in general give love choose love etc it’s trueeee, that’s the way to be

grazie mille! spero tu stia passando una bella serata🌙✨✨

[occasionalfics]

Dog Days (Steve X Reader)

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For @memyselfandmaddox​: “could you do a soulmate with steve that they meet somehow because of my dog maggie? The little runt that she is would so run away from me and priss her way over to steve demanding he pick her up and love on her. When she runs away from me she looks both ways to cross streets and only uses the sidewalks. MISS 16 YEAR OLD MAGGIE IS BASICALLY DEAF AT THIS POINT SO CHASING AFTER HER SCREAMING HER NAME DOES NOTHING.”

A/N: I’m a big Tattoo fan so...that’s where I went with this. (It doesn’t hurt that Chris Evans’ tattoos are...a huge turn on js) Also how have I never gotten a soulmate au request until now?! This was too fun! I want more! And maybe I deny Infinity War but I don’t deny Civil War so I wanted to put this at a point when Steve, you know, wasn’t a fugitive.

Warnings: None! Just another super cute one!

Words: 1,398

It was 2011 when you woke up with your first tattoo just above your wrist. You liked the simplicity of it: three black circles, one inside the next, with a simple star at the center of the smallest circle. It looked like a bullseye, with no color or words.

The only problem: you hadn’t gotten a tattoo. Your bank account proved that, since there’d been no transaction or even an ATM withdrawal to serve as evidence of a possible drunken mistake. Plus, you’d been sober the night before, so there was no way you’d gotten that tattoo of your own volition.

The only explanation: your soulmate had been born. Which presented a whole new issue: your soulmate was a lot younger than you. The thought made you shudder with disgust and curse the universe for doing this to you - because what else were you supposed to do? All you had was this mark that would constantly remind you of what was to come, even if you dreaded it.

So you told your friends and family that you had gotten the tattoo intentionally. It was easier to explain its sudden appearance than it was to tell them you’d finally gotten your soulmate mark well into adulthood. The only living being that knew the truth was your little pooch Maggie, who, to the best of your knowledge, didn’t know anyone that could actually communicate with dogs. Your secret was safe...for a while.

Two years later, you were walking Maggie down a busy street in the heat of the day - she had little booties on to keep her paws safe from the concrete - when the little monster somehow got out of her collar and sprinted away.

“Maggie!” you called, trying to keep up, but then you remembered something that made your heart sink: Maggie, in her old age, had gone deaf. She couldn’t hear you or oncoming traffic, though she might be able to feel vibrations from engines and car horns - if only she wasn’t wearing booties.

You went into high gear, following her as fast as you could. Despite her age, she was still a spry little girl. She kept up a ridiculous pace, somehow beating you even as she stopped at red lights and looked both ways across intersections before dodging across crosswalks. All you could do was follow her path, breathing harder and harder as she went. Clearly, she had a mission, even if you didn’t know where that would take either of you.

She headed into a small cafe, pushing past a couple as they came out onto the street, and you rolled your eyes. Maybe she couldn’t hear anymore, but Maggie still loved the smell of coffee. But you’d noticed that she’d passed quite a few cafes on her mad sprint, so you didn’t know why this one was special until you went inside.

There she was - the little yippy monster was sitting politely at the heels of a broad-shouldered blonde man in a pair of slightly baggy jeans and a plain blue t-shirt that was almost two sizes too small. You hardly noticed at first; you just watched Maggie’s tail wag at an alarming rate. She barked up at the man to get his attention, and when he looked down at her, she stood on her back two legs and panted for his attention.

“Maggie!” you called, even though you knew she couldn’t hear you. Even if she could, she’d probably ignore you anyway.

The man bent down as if he hadn’t heard you either, smiling at Maggie as she jumped and barked at him. He put his hands around her tummy and picked her up, laughing as her eyes went wide and white and she licked his hands frantically.

“Maggie - you little rascal!” you said, stepping closer to him to try to get your dog’s attention. She didn’t cease her licking, but the man did chuckle.

“So you’re Maggie,” he said, then he turned to you. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to steal your pup here.” He tried to hand Maggie back to you, but she wriggled in his grasp and cried.

You rolled your eyes and tried to pull her from him without being rude, but Maggie didn’t like that at all. She went to nip at your fingers, so you pulled them back and yelled, “Hey! Who do you think you are, lil’ miss?”

The man laughed again, and when you finally looked at him, you stopped. Everything stopped, actually. Maggie stopped moving and the baristas stopped working and the people around you stopped talking - all in the second it took for your wrist to itch like crazy. You thought the man looked familiar, too, so you stared at him until his laughter ebbed.

Maggie went about licking his face - his strong jaw and sharp nose, and without even realizing it, you were kind of jealous. But you reminded yourself that you didn’t know this man, and that he was still holding your dog one way or another.

“She really likes you,” you managed to say without making a total fool of yourself. You tried to pet her, but Maggie completely ignored you. Her tail kept wagging as she made herself comfortable against this man. When he pet her, her tail went faster.

“Well, I like her too,” he said. Then he made sure he was supporting Maggie with one arm before dropping the other. He held his free hand out to you and told you, “I’m Steve.”

Without even thinking, you held you your arm with the soulmate tattoo to shake his hand. “(Y/N),” you said, almost automatically getting distracted by the light blue of Steve’s eyes. They looked familiar, too, but you couldn’t remember why. But damn, was that tattoo itchy. It’d never been itchy like that before.

Once you pulled your hand back, you instantly scratched the tattoo, which pulled Steve’s attention to it. You watched his brow furrow and his head tilt and suddenly - you knew who he was.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. You moved a little closer, so you didn’t alert too many of the other patrons around. “You’re not...Steve Rogers are you?”

He didn’t answer at first because his attention was still on your tattoo. “Is that…” he started, but he never finished his question. He reached his fingers out until they came into contact with your wrist - which sent huge waves of sunshine-y warmth up your arm. He must’ve felt it too, because his breath caught at the exact moment that yours did.

“What...was that?” you asked, looking at your wrist, then back at Steve.

He scrambled to hand you Maggie, who cried at the loss of contact with Steve. You held her close as he brought his opposite wrist to your attention. There, in the same place your tattoo was on your arm, he had one that was just the outline of Maggie’s name, but it was in the same font that was printed on her collar tag, which you’d had custom made by someone on Etsy a few years ago.

“Maggie’s your dog?” Steve asked, like he didn’t already know.

You nodded. “And you’re...Captain-”

He hushed you and looked over his shoulders, searching the room to make sure no one was paying attention. Before he spoke again, he gripped your free hand in his and pulled you outside, over to the furthest table possible. You sat across the table from one another with Maggie walking over the metal grate freely now, even though you knew she was supposed to be on the ground.

“Yes,” Steve said. “I’m...Steve Rogers.”

You looked at your tattoo. It wasn’t a bullseye after all. It was his shield without the color. It’d come late because, for almost seven decades, he’d been close enough to death to be kept from you. The Universe hadn’t been playing a trick - it’d been keeping you from years and years of disappointment, until Steve was brought back into the world.

“So what was it like?” you asked. “Waking up with this name on your wrist and having no idea who Maggie was?” You managed to smirk at him before you planted your chin on an upturned palm.

Steve smiled, too. His ears and cheeks turned a light shade of pink as he looked at the table, then at Maggie. “Confusing at first,” he answered. “But...not so bad.”

Tags!

Global: @infinityblogger @welcome-to-my-daydreams @hopefulblazetriumph @httpmcrvel @capsheadquaters @samanthasmileys @sunigyrl @yeahbutmarvel @mysweetcookie99 @ourdreamsrealized @tinyfistwarrior @punkrockhufflefluff @lady-thor-foster @nerdywitch @dreamerinfinity @demonspawn2468 @blackpantherimagines @pensysto @memyselfandmaddox @acciorinn @the-resal10 @untoldshortsofthefandoms @j-marvel-memester @vinyloider

Steve: @girlwhoisfearless @mrsdeanwinchester19 @multi-fandom-imagines8 @ineffabl-y @warriorsacrifice @pensysto @marvelous-super-soldier @cherrysfandom 

Drabbles: @athorable-and-deanlicous @esoltis280 @pensysto

[scribeofmorpheus]

Opposing Elements Part 3 (Peter Parker x Reader)

Part One, Part Two

A/N: Ahhh! So I had waaaayyy too much fun writing from Peter’s point of view, as a result, we were gifted with a lot of rambling and playful dialogue! Not much reader presence in this chapter, but we do get to see things from Peter’s POV! (Also, I’ll be travelling for the next few days and even though I did a quick spellcheck I’m sure there are a few (many) mistakes I overlooked. I’ll fix that later. I just had to update this fic! It was overdue!)

Remember: Reader is a version of Felicia Hardy AKA Black Cat

Words: 2086

Warnings: Does Crime fighting and therapy multitasking count? Some angst.

(Gif isn’t mine)

Peter’s POV

Peter was perched atop one of the thousand fire escapes on one of the indistinguishable apartment buildings in Queens. His mask was lifted up from the bottom half of his face as he snacked on a Snickers bar. Legs dangling over the edge like he was a little kid at a play park. He was exhausted, but not from crime fighting, sadly. To his dismay, it was one of the slowest nights he'd had in a while. The most action he'd gotten was saving a cat from a tree. Twice! And it was the same cat.

He had patrolled many dark alleyways and shady corners the last month alone. He and Ned had been slowly working towards finding all the remaining alien tech the Vulture -Adrian Toomes- had repurposed and sold on the black market. It hadn't been easy. Tracking down alien technology was time-consuming and difficult, he and Ned barely had any free time lately. He was a little disappointed that he had to miss attending Felicia's gymnastic try-outs today. He really wanted to be there for her.

"Hey, Karen, anything?" Peter asked the AI in his suit, he was getting impatient.

"Nothing as yet, Peter."

"Great," Peter groaned.  He was in need of blowing off some steam. After everything that happened with Liz and her dad, for which he felt partially responsible, Peter had been a little on edge. It didn't help that Aunt May found out about his leading a double life either. She had sworn that if she ever saw him wearing the colours red, blue and white together, on a night that wasn't Halloween where it'd only be acceptable if he dressed as Captain America, she would ground him for life. Either that or she'd slowly kill him with walnut-date loaves. Everything was just so much more complicated now.

With Felicia's return, things just seemed to get even more complicated. He had missed her fiercely when she left, she had been his only friend back then. She was like this unstoppable whirlwind that set its sights on him one day and, for some reason or the other, she had swept him up and carried him away. Away from the bullies and the stolen lunch money. Away from having to think about his parents all the time. She was a force to be reckoned with, but at least then he knew what his feelings for her were. He knew what she had meant to him -and he to her. But now, now they didn't seem to fit so well together anymore. Like two puzzle pieces from two separate puzzles that once looked identical. Turns out they weren't.

To make matters worse keeping secrets from Felicia felt unnatural. When she had asked about the bruise he couldn't bare lying to her face. Not when they stood so close together and she hung her slender arm around his. So the best he could offer her was a half-truth. He had gotten the bruise from falling on gym equipment, the truth was he had gotten the bruise when some hoodlum in possession of a magnetic field generator weapon had flung a piece of gym equipment at him.

Peter sighed, "Anything yet, Karen?"

"No, Peter."

"Oh man! I have so much homework to do. Can't these guys just hurry up and take the bait? I mean it's not like I don't have a life of my own ya' know. Why is it criminals always show up at the most inconvenient of ti--"

"Peter, my scanners have honed in on a frequency. It appears we have some activity," Karen interrupted.

"Yes!" Peter exclaimed excitedly as he pulled the mask over his face completely. He stuffed the candy wrapper in his bag and webbed it to the fire escape. "Let's go re-poses some alien weaponry!"

***

When he reached the source of the frequency, Peter had spotted four guys, all heavily armed with weird looking alien tech. They were loading a truck with duffle bags. They had probably just robbed an ATM or something. Peter mentally scolded himself for failing to stop the robbery before it had occurred.

Peter crawled up to the ceiling from the wall to get to a better vantage point. Once positioned perfectly above them he used his enhanced vision to focus on the gang of criminals.

"Alright, one more score like this and then we're set!" Said the largest of the four, he was without a doubt proud of his winnings.

"Come on, come on! Hurry up! Don't want to be around when the fuzz shows up," one wearing a red bandana around his face hurried the others.

"Or that Spider-Dude," the smallest one added. They all laughed at him. Peter tried not to take much offence.

"Would you like to activate instant kill mode, Peter?" Karen asked innocently.

"W-What, no, no. Karen, we talked about this. No instant kill," Peter panicked for a fleeting second, keeping his voice low so as to avoid detection.

"Acknowledged."

He slowly descended down towards the truck using his retractable web sling. The four men were too preoccupied with stuffing the van to notice Peter was suspended above them. Peter stayed there, hovering above them for a few extra seconds hoping one of them would notice him, but to his chagrin, they didn't.

His second wave of impatience hit him and Peter cleared his throat to garner their attention, "Hey, not to be a buzzkill, but would you guys mind returning all the money you stole?" He quipped childishly.

The big guy pointed his weapon at Peter and fired off a pulse beam, Peter avoided the beam by somersaulting away and landing a few feet away. The surrounding windows of the building screeched in distress before they exploded, the resulting effect was a beautiful yet dangerous shower of microscopic glass shards falling to the ground. Peter shielded himself under some cover.

"I guess that's a no then?"

"You two-" the big guy pointed to the smaller, unarmed two of the group, "-keep loading the truck. We got this," confidence practically oozing off him as he urged his bandana wearing companion to join him in his fight.

If Peter hadn't faced guys twice as dangerous as him, he may have wavered for a second. The smaller guys (including the one who had called him 'Spider-Dude') hurried their efforts to fill the truck with the duffle bags.

"Karen, notify the police, someone's gotta return all that money," Peter ordered.

"The police have been notified."

"Who is he talking to?" The armed man with the bandana asked the bigger guy, who in turn shrugged. He seemed just as confused as his partner in crime.

"Probably hallucinating from all that blood rushing to his brain from hanging upside-down for so long."

"You're familiar with the basic physics concept of gravity weighing down on your organs due to the human body being upside down, thereby crushing your lungs causing asphyxiation which can lead to side effects like hallucinations or blurred vision?" Peter asked in surprise.

The large man didn't answer, he chose to fire off his pulse weapon instead. Peter dodged the energy pulse, barely, with another summersault. He then used one of his webs to swing around and kick him in the back. He went down easy.

"The bigger they are, the harder they fall," Peter said with a cool head and a touch of self-gratification. This was exactly the kind of mind-numbing distraction he needed.

In a moment of hysterics, the other armed man fired his weapon carelessly in a flurry of pulsing attacks. Eventually, the power was too much for one ordinary man to withstand and he was blown away by the very weapon he used to defend himself. Ironic, Peter thought.

In short time he managed to subdue all the criminals and webbed them up in a collective ball to the side of the truck. He was about to make his grand exit when his suit notified him he had an incoming call. The caller ID read: Felicia.

"Would you like to accept the call, Peter?" Karen's constantly calm and composed voice was always hard to adjust to after taking on a few criminals in a rush of adrenaline and aerial kicks.

Peter debated whether or not to take the call, "I- I don't know, maybe? Actually, n- no. I can't talk to her right now. But what if she thinks I'm avoiding her? Or worse, what if she thinks I'm a terrible friend for standing her up twice in one day. First with the auditions and now this phone call… No, I'll just call her and apologise later. Y- Yeah, that's what I'll do."

"The call already went to voicemail," Karen informed him too late.

"Uh, hey! Spider-Dude, are you… are you alright?" Asked the smallest of the four men roped up in the ball of webs. His voice soft and sincere. He was definitely the furthest thing from a hardened criminal, Peter thought.

Peter turned to him, he could feel his cheeks flush from embarrassment, it was a good thing he was wearing a mask. He never meant for anyone to witness his little inner dialogue of indecision with himself, let alone the guys he just strung up. Although, since they were all here and not going anywhere anytime soon, Peter decided to make do with what he was given. He sat cross-legged, facing towards the balled mass of men stuck to the side of the truck, he figured it wouldn't hurt to get a second opinion on his current relationship problems.

"Okay so here's the deal: there's this girl right, we used to be besties back in the day, when we were kids, but then she moved away and things… changed. We both changed. But now she's back and at first, ya' know, I was happy, I got my best friend back and I figured things could go back to the way they used to be. Except, they didn't."

Peter used his hands as visual aids as he moved them about from point A to B to A again actively, the four men were forced to do nothing but listen to him overshare about his current predicament, "To be honest, I don't really understand it. When she's happy, I'm happy and when she's sad I get so exasperated because I can't help her. To make things worse, I have this whole other secret life I can't tell her about and lying to her, even by omission, is killing me!"

"Why don't you just tell her how you feel?" the small guy asked.

"Yeah, just tell her how you feel," one of his companions backed him up.

Peter let out an exasperated sigh, "See, that's the thing, I don't know what it is exactly I feel for her. Don't get me wrong, she's amazing and quick-witted and has a horrible habit of swearing all the time -which I find hilarious… "

"But?"

"But, my last relationship didn't end well and I was somewhat responsible for how things ended. I just- I don't want that to happen with her. I don't want to hurt her, I also don't want to ruin what we have," Peter's head hung low, he didn't realise this had bothered him so much.

"Maybe you should stop trying to control everything and just let her decide," the largest of the men offered. Peter hadn't expected someone like him to say something like that, he was at a loss for words.

"Peter, the authorities are closing in. I recommend leaving now," Karen informed him.

"I gotta jet, thanks for everything. You are all great listeners."

Peter left before any of them could say anything, the distant sounds of the sirens blaring through the wind.

***

Peter climbed through his bedroom window still clad in his suit, he had been so preoccupied with making sure Aunt May didn't see or hear him that when a lively feminine voice spoke out he had nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Spider-Man?" Felicia gasped in utter astonishment.

Peter whipped his head around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, "Wh-What? Who-"

Suddenly he realised his voice still sounded like him. Peter cleared his throat and deepened his voice to an almost comical extent, "Hey, this isn't my apartment!" He tried to sound perplexed.

"Obviously," Felicia said sarcastically.

She squinted her eyes at him, he knew that look, she was definitely thinking up a storm in that brilliant mind of hers. Peter had to find a way to throw her off the scent.

"Uh… “His mind drew a blank. Peter couldn't think of a smart way to try and explain why exactly Spider-Man was in Peter Parker's bedroom.” I’ll just-" Peter pointed at the window and seconds later he flung himself out of it, leaving Felicia looking on completely flabbergasted.

"What the hell just happened?" Peter heard Felicia ask herself in astonishment.

"Next time, use the fire escape," he spoke out loud to himself. "Oh, shit my backpack!" Peter shouted, his voice normalised, as he swung away from his apartment building back in the direction he came from to pick up the third backpack he had forgotten.

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As always: I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I know I did! If you want to be added to the tag list don’t be afraid to ask!

Tags: @carry-on-ms-believer @itsjaynebird

Permanent Tags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet

[orphanedwolfandfriends]

thisisfine.jpeg

To elaborate further on this bit,

I have reason to believe that my mindset’s just gotten worse and has made me more quick to feel anxiety over seemingly the smallest things, and it’s started after January of this year, when my counselor moved on to a different job. My mindset was so much better than it is right now when I did have her to talk to. I know that’s life and people will move to different occupations, but I just miss her. She was sweet and helped me a lot. So atm, I’m looking into finding another one to vent my feelings out to, but I also want to get my body ailments out of the way first. It can’t some soon enough!!!

Yeah I wasn’t kidding. I literally can’t sleep right now and I’m just trying to find the source of what’s giving me intrusive thoughts right now. Like am I just mentally exhausted after my body ailments, am I looking into things the wrong way to where, yeah it’s fucking obvious at this point, having no counselor is making my mindset worse? I don’t feel good keeping this in anymore but I don’t want to fucking keep treating my friends like they’re either the problem or they’re my counselors, cause the counselor part is just a high pedestal that I don’t know anyone who’d want to be up there, that and I’ve just felt like a nuisance about it. I am having an appointment with a lady who I’m calling Ell for this post, just to talk about all of this on September 8th, and that day isn’t coming soon enough for me. I’m impatient and anxious for it and since I can’t sleep, I don’t know how to soothe my brain rn. I did ask Ell if there was an available day earlier than such and she was gonna check, but judging by no updates, it’s not seeming so? Idfk. I’d have felt like a bother to ask about it.

Why am I like this