#and that's almost true for my flatmates

[neon-angels-system]

I'm having a Moment, huh?

[phagodyke]

in a hilarious turn of events my flatmate didn't even know I use any pronouns....

[exopelagic]

I AM A CODING GENIUS

[barcaatthemoon]

flatmates || alexia putellas x teen!reader ||

you get placed to live with alexia while you play abroad at barcelona.

"nena, wake up!" alexia yelled as she flicked the light on and off in your room. living with alexia putellas had sounded like a dream come true. you were playing at the club of your dreams with the best players in the world. everything should have been perfect, and for the most part it was, but you had no idea that living with alexia would prove to be so difficult.

it was a lot for a sixteen year old. you knew that you'd be better off in the end, but that didn't make it any easier in the moment. you hated the early wake ups, extra workouts and practice, and the extra schoolwork. alexia wanted you to be the best in absolutely everything, and that included the education she doubted that you'd need in the long run.

you drew a lot of comparisons to alexia on the field. off the field was a different story, but alexia pretended not to notice that part. some people thought you were a pet project for alexia, but she thought of you as so much more than that. she had told you before that you were like the little sister she always wanted, but you were almost certain it was mostly to piss off alba.

"five more minutes. better yet, another hour and i'll have patri pick me up," you tried. it was futile, however, because alexia wanted to personally see to it that you got a nutritious breakfast. she was really only looking out for you, but it got a little annoying for you when all you wanted was more sleep.

"you can take a nap after training." to alexia, that was the perfect compromise. you grumbled on and on about it for most of the morning, but you got up anyway. alexia helped you with breakfast, like she tried to with all of the meals that you cooked in the house. "that looks good. where did you see this one?"

"tiktok," you answered as you portioned out the food. "when will olga be back?"

"in two days, why?" alexia asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. you liked olga, but the two of you weren't exactly close. in fact, most of the time, you didn't really interact with olga around the house.

"because she doesn't let you wake me up before 6," you said as you glanced at the clock on the oven. alexia winced as she looked over to see how early it really was. "i could have had two more hours."

"lo siento nena, but think of all the things we can do with our extra time."

…

you were on an unbelievable run. this whole game had been one of your best. it felt like nothing in the world could have stopped you. two goals down, and you were going for your third whenever the challenge came in. immediately, you were tripped up and sent flying on the pitch. everyone around you immediately looked over at your body, which was unmoving as you laid out on the pitch.

everything hurt from the impact, but fortunately, your knee didn't seem to be a particularly problematic area. the idea of tearing your acl so young absolutely terrified you. you didn't think anything was wrong until you tried to push yourself up only to fall as your wrist completely gave out.

"stay still. try to take a couple deep breaths for me," alexia said softly as she knelt next to you. she was rubbing your back like she did on the few nights you crawled into her bed looking for comfort. sometimes alexia forgot that you were a kid, something that olga had to frequently remind her of. you weren't a baby, but you definitely were not an adult yet.

"my wrist hurts," you whined. alexia took one look at it and winced. "don't do that! don't wince like that!"

"lo siento nena," alexia apologized. she stayed with you even after the trainers took you off, making the coaches make two substitutions. your wrist was stabilized and you were rushed off to the hospital for x-rays and a cast. it was definitely broken, and a part of you wondered if you'd be sent back to your home country to live with your family. surely alexia wouldn't want you to stay if you weren't really playing for the team.

…

"alexia, don't you dare go wake up that girl!" olga hissed as she placed herself in front of your bedroom door.

"but she has to come to the game." olga almost couldn't believe her ears. alexia could be stubborn and demanding at times, but olga had never heard her whine like that before. it was almost laughable, but olga wanted you to get every bit of rest that you could. alexia had given you a couple of days to rest and just do your schoolwork at your own pace, but she wanted you to come back to practice and games with her again. "she missed the last one and we didn't win."

"i'll take her to the game myself if she wants to go. just go on your run already so you can get ready for the game," olga instructed. alexia pouted as she moved past your bedroom door. olga knew better than to just go back to sleep, instead waiting until alexia had been gone for five minutes. unbeknownst to her, you had woken up on your own and heard all of it from inside your room.

you smiled to yourself as you left your bedroom. alexia had started some coffee for herself before she left which you happily took and sipped as you sat on the couch. you couldn't play, but alexia had nabbed your game kit from the locker rooms a couple days ago at practice in case you wanted to wear it to the game anyway. it was sitting out on the coffee table neatly folded with a little note on it.

"oh, you're awake! you can shower while i eat if you want. i just have to get ready and then we can leave," alexia said as she moved past you towards the kitchen. she grabbed a couple of pre-made things for her breakfast and sat down, immediately taking a sip of the coffee. "ugh, disgusting. why drink my coffee if you're going to change everything about it?"

"to mess with you," you answered honestly. alexia rolled her eyes ad shoved you away playfully. you wrapped your cast up and took your shower, more than happy to go with alexia to the game. she hadn't been the only one to believe that you not coming with alexia to the game after breaking your wrist was bad luck. even alexia's practices had felt a little off since you stopped going.

it was funny to you that alexia saw you as a good luck charm. it didn't matter if you sat with the team or her family, alexia just wanted you there. you had never thought that you'd be so genuinely cared for in your teammate's home, but olga insisted that you were just as much a member of alexia's family as you were. everybody always made jokes that alexia probably wasn't going to give you up when you became old enough to live on your own.

"i got a pillow for your arm because i know the bench isn't very comfortable. oh, and i brought you an outfit for after the game too because we're going to mami's for dinner. i think what you're wearing is fine, but you know the rule, no kits at dinner," alexia rambled. you smiled to yourself, not often getting to see this side of her. you sometimes felt like you annoyed alexia when you'd talk to her or try to spend time with her, but if your week of staying in your room had taught you anything, it was that alexia needed the time with you just as much as you wanted to spend it with her.

[littlemisshyperfixation]

Hoseok Fic Recommendations

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

One Shots

Make Me (s) by @violetsiren90 ⊹₊⋆ You've been friends with Hobi for years, and he's your comfort zone - but when he gets wind of a dark secret you drunkenly let slip, things between you take a sudden extreme change.

Constellations Of You (f s) by @persphonesorchid ⊹₊⋆ A new chapter of Him and You begins. He’s waited a long time for this, for the mornings where he could wake next to you in a house you’d both made a home of.

Bound (s) by @explicit-tae ⊹₊⋆ Jimin has tried everything in his power for you - one of his closest friends - to get laid. He realizes that your kinks don't match with just any man besides one; another friend of his - Jung Hoseok. You've met Hoseok many times and don't think your masochism can be satiated by someone as bright and sunny as him.

cry to my room (a s f) by @kithtaehyung ⊹₊⋆ when your best friend offered to help out and move in with you, you accepted and hoped that your friendship remained intact. and it did. until six weeks ago.

Keynote (s) by @missgeniality ⊹₊⋆ Sleep was all you had desired, after dealing with an agitating boss, an incompetent coworker and an unsurmountable workload. Right up until your hotel room was flooded with an array of noises from the room next door. Shouting, screaming, begging, moaning. Sleep was all you had desired, but after this night, your desires have grown.

Touchless (s) by @missgeniality ⊹₊⋆ Characteristic to your dynamic, temptations take control of this night at the party - but not without a divide.

ho ho horrible (f s) by @ugh-yoongi ⊹₊⋆ or, the one where your neighbor is a relentless christmas caroler and refuses to take a hint, but at least he's really hot.

Flatmates (f a s) by @taleasnewastime ⊹₊⋆ You need to find a spare room after deciding to move out of your flat that you share with your best friend and her boyfriend. Stumbling upon an advert for a room that seems almost too good to be true, you decide for once to not over think and go for it. But who is the mystery flatmate you are now living with that you hardly see?

Starting again (f) by @taleasnewastime ⊹₊⋆ Two years out of studying to have a baby, only your first few weeks back and it’s already not going as easily as you thought. A babysitter you can barely afford dropping out last minute, you have to take your little girl into the lecture with you. What follows isn’t smooth, but it’s the start of you getting closer to your professor, a man you’ve always admired from your seat, but you learn to get to know up close.

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Silvery Witchcraft

It is of course not a secret. Not per se. I don’t hide my true identity. It has more to do with what people observe. Or believe, I suppose. Coming to terms with the fact that the paranormal is real doesn't sit well with most people. Therefore, I always find it amusing when someone calls me a witch. Little do they know…

I took my time when I got to choose my appearance and colours. An image of an elderly, fragile-looking lady filled my mind. She fit my favourite colours perfectly. Purple and silver. 

My place of residence had already been chosen for me. 221 Baker Street, London. Such a pretty place. Victorian. Reminded me of my childhood. I immediately set about furnishing the place. 221A would serve as my quarters. I decorated it as a woman my supposed age would. Lots of lace curtains, antimacassars, velvet cushions, a Persian carpet, and mahogany furniture. I hid the modern kitchen appliances in old, almost ancient ones. My cooking and baking would not suffer because of an unpredictable oven, thank you very much!

I didn’t bother with 221C at first but moved upstairs. 221B was going to be rented out. I needed to earn a living. Keeping up appearances and all that nonsense. The flat was quite spacious and had two bedrooms. The empty space got my full attention, and I chose carefully. My intention was for it to look as if the previous tenants had left it fully furnished. 

The walls were covered with creamy-coloured wallpaper and a black lily pattern. Two mismatched chairs, one in worn, but exquisite leather, the other a faded red upholstery one, were positioned by the fireplace. Although they looked old, they weren’t. 

I used quite a few moments to get the bathroom and kitchen just to my liking. The space was scarce, but by using my silver sparks, my secret weapon, I got everything to fit without it seeming cramped. Letting the rooms expand unnoticed by the users, was quite a challenge.

***

My first tenant was Mycroft Holmes’ little brother, Sherlock. Witchcraft is surprisingly fully recognised by the British government. Not publicly, of course, and only a handful of ministries are aware of its existence.

Mycroft summoned me to the Diogenes club, and almost begged me to save his brother.

“He won’t listen to reason,” he sighed. “I have tried everything. You are his last chance, or he will end up dead under one of London’s bridges.”

Mycroft Holmes is just as much of a drama queen as his brother, but this time he wasn’t far off. I saw it in the lines around his eyes and mouth.

Arrangements were made, and I literally served my fake mafia husband to Sherlock on a silver plate. We got on like a house on fire after that.

Sherlock immediately fell in love with 221B, and he moved in the day after we returned from Florida and the execution. I hadn’t felt so alive in centuries!

“You will need a flatmate,” I told him after a while. “It’s too lonely for you. Don’t you roll your eyes at me, young man. I hear you during the wee hours. Playing your violin and pacing. A loyal companion is what you need.”

“Who would want me for a flatmate, Hudders?” he asked.

My heart nearly broke at that. Sherlock had become like a son to me, and I hated to see his loneliness. Few people were able to look behind his haughty façade. Greg Lestrade, Mike Stamford, and Molly Hooper being the exceptions. And me and Mycroft, obviously.

“Talk to Mike Stamford,” I urged him. “He will keep an eye out, and he certainly won’t pull someone like Sebastian Wilkes out of his sleeve.”

***

Before Sherlock left for Barts on January 29, I sent some silver sparks after him. For a moment, too brief for the human eye to discern, it lit him up, making him appear even more handsome. Not that he needed it. It was more for good luck, which he might have needed. It was difficult to use my magic on him due to his unpredictability and that monster of a brain.

The moment I laid eyes on John Watson, after Sherlock’s unprecedented hug, I knew he was just the one to share 221B with the genius detective. I didn’t even consider using my magic on him. He was already perfect for Sherlock. I just had to make sure that Sherlock didn’t push John away when he made his move to inquire about his romantic life and orientation. 

------------------------------------------------------------

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @helloliriels

@raina-at @meetinginsamarra @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitch-adler @topsyturvy-turtely

@jolieblack @peanitbear @phoenix27884 @bs2sjh @brandiwein1982

@meandhisjohn @a-victorian-girl @221beloved @ninasnakie @shy-bi-letsfuckingdie

@7-percent @lhrinchelsea @missdeliadilisblog @salmonsown @oetkb12

@jawnscoffee @gay-ass-bitch @acumberlockedgirl @willamholmeswatson @whatnext2020

@mydogwatson @redmondcollege @thegildedbee @ilovegayangels @elizabethhood

@xmengal03 @riversong912 @givemesherbet-blog-blog @couldbecannibal

(Tell me if you want to be tagged or removed from the list)

[kitthepurplepotato]

MWRMI part 5

My Weird Roommate, Midoriya Izuku

Week 3 Part 1 - Reality Check.

~•🥦•~

Summary: Living with pro hero Deku was too good to be true; when Midoriya doesn’t come home one night, Y/N realizes how painful it is to love the Number One Hero.

Warnings: Injured Deku, swear words, a hint of angst.

First part Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

After having Midoriya around you for a whole day the house feels cold and strange without the green haired nerd. Your moping got to a point when even All Meowt felt sorry enough for you to come out and keep you company so needless to say, you definitely look pathetic right now.

Sometimes, when the urge to see your flatmate got unbearable you messaged him about stupid things; random hero fun facts, fan arts, screenshots, a picture of you cooking his favorite meal and for your surprise, Midoriya responded to all of them.

After a while he also started to send you random pictures about his patrol; sometimes it was just a lovely picture of the sunset but sometimes they were grimy and disgusting; pictures of his injuries or a selfie of Midoriya with a massive black eye. Usually, by the time the greenette came home the injuries were gone thanks to the amazing healer guy they have on their team, but that doesn’t make it easier to see him like that. Being close to a hero isn’t a fucking dream, it’s more like a nightmare. You never know when it’s the last time you see him and you can never sleep soundly until you hear the door open; what if he ends up in a hospital and no one informs you? What if he comes home thinking he’s all okay but there is an internal bleeding killing him slowly while he sleeps?

Yeah, being close to heroes suck.

But let’s come back to the present now; to the present that’s also not so pleasant.

You wake up in the middle of the night to a notification on your phone; you dozed off on the table again while working on another project. The notification almost makes you throw up; it’s an article about a massive fight in the middle of the city, not too far away from your current home. You turn on the TV as the article states it’s being aired live; you can see pro hero Deku, barely standing on the sidelines while the rest of his team finishes the work in the middle. Dynamight manages to catch the last villain, so technically the heroes won, but you can’t help the tears trailing down your cheeks from seeing your friend wobbling to the nearest emergency station before passing out in the nurse’s arms.

You try to keep calm but you can’t stop yourself from sending him a message.

You: Please send me a message when you wake up, Midoriya!

Just as you expected, there is no response coming back. Fuck.

Thankfully, All Meowth graces you with his existence and lets you pet his fluffy little head. What a supportive little animal.

After a few dreadful minutes; 40, to be exact, there is a notification on your phone.

Midoriya: ….!hehdgeuehdbgenevrm

Midoriya: I!m oksbdgeb

Midoriya: fuxk

Midoriya: Hey Freeloader, stop freaking the shit out, I’ll bring him home as soon as he’s coherent. Make him some soup or some shit, the fucker didn’t take a break today. I’m also hungry by the way and I deserve a fucking serving.”

You don’t need to think twice to know who wrote that message. You sigh and take a deep, shaky breath.

He’s fine. He’s coming home.

~•🥦•~

“We’re home!” Dynamight’s loud and hoarse voice breaks through the silence.

In any other situation, you would probably take five to ten minutes to fangirl over the fact that Dynamight is here; he might be rough and abrasive towards everyone but his good looks and heroic deeds still managed to take him to the second place on the hero rankings; but right now, you can only see the green haired man who’s holding into his shoulders like he can’t even stand straight without help.

“Midoriya…” You run through the living room to check up on him but Dynamight puts his arms out to stop you in your tracks.

“He’s high.” He declares. “Our healer’s quirk likes to kick you in the ass when it’s overused. He’s not aware of his surroundings, so don’t even bother.” The blonde hero rolls his eyes and makes his way towards the kitchen, the greenette limping after him, still holding the guy’s shoulder like a lifeline.

“Izuku, we are going to eat and then you are going to bed, okay?” Dynamight pushes Izuku’s chin up to force eye contact; he speaks to him with a soft, reassuring voice like he’s a random toddler he found on the street. They sit down next to each other on the dining table then Izuku nods but doesn’t move towards his food; the blonde sighs and takes the spoon in his hand. “Open your fucking mouth, you big baby!” Dynamight screams at the clearly high greenette, who obeys without hesitation.

… it’s 5 fucking AM and here you are, staring at motherfucking Dynamight force feeding pro hero Deku with your soup at your fucking dining table.

This fanfiction got really weird, really quickly.

“Where is Y/N?” Izuku speaks up after gaining some color in his cheeks. You perk up at the sound of your name but you decide not to get involved in their conversation.

“She’s literally sitting opposite of you, you dump fuck.” The blonde grumbles, clearly fucking done with the situation.

“Is she okay?”

This is such a Midoriya thing to do that you can’t help but smile; the guy comes home after almost dying on the battlefield yet his first coherent question is about someone else’s wellbeing.

“No, she’s probably scarred for life after seeing me feeding you, to be honest.”

Well, what were you expecting from Dynamight, sugar coating? Nah.

“No…” Midoriya’s voice trembles. You really want to hug him. “I don’t want her to be mad. I don’t want her to leave!”

Fuck, your face is wet. You never ever want to see that look on Midoriya’s face, it’s absolutely heartbreaking.

“She’s not going anywhere you moron. She made this soup for you, so eat it.” Dynamight grumbles at him again, but Deku only smiles at him.

“What the fuck are you smiling at me for?” The blonde is clearly not a big fan of affection, his face contorts into a frown from all the cheesiness.

“Y/N’s soup is even better than yours.” The greenette answers with a lovesick smile on his face but apparently, this wasn’t the right thing to say as the blonde’s face heats up in anger.

“Now take that back you asshole or I’ll push this spoon down your fucking throat.” Dynamight looks like he’s about to explode but Deku is clearly unaffected by the empty threat.

“No, Kacchan is mad.” Midoriya’s shit eating grin is so huge it can probably be seen from the top of Mt.Fuji. The blonde decides he’s done with Deku’s shenanigans and literally throws the guy into his bedroom without a single warning. He comes out after five minutes and sits down on the sofa; he holds his hand out and stares at you until you put one and two together.

Ahh, he’s asking for food.

“I really wanted to hug him before he goes to sleep.” You reprimand as you make your way to the sofa with a big bowl of soup. You made a special batch for the spice loving blonde as a thank you. Dynamight rolls his eyes and nods approvingly at the taste.

“I don’t want to listen to him bitching about embarrassing himself in front of you again. For some fucking reason he really cares about shit like that when it comes to you.” Bakugou answers nonchalantly, like you’ve known each other for ages and this isn’t your first ever conversation. After seeing your confused face, he elaborates on the topic. “He won’t remember you being with us because I didn’t let him look at you. He’ll wake up tomorrow thinking you were fast asleep and he won’t beat himself up about it.”

“So long story short, you being an asshole is all an act and you are actually more like a protective big brother.” You poke at the sleeping bear, but for your surprise, he doesn’t get offended by you seeing through him.

Okay. This is new. This is not how people portray Bakugou in their fanfictions.

“We are all family. We support each other. Being a hero is a lonely job so if we are not there for each other no one ever will ever be.” The blonde answers with a straight face but his voice gets melancholic by the end of his sentence.

You don’t know what to say to that. You understand the sentiment but at the same you can’t help but wonder how the fuck is the pain not worth it. These people; both Midoriya and Bakugou; are the most protecting, most loving people you’ve ever met in your life. They are loyal to a fault and they go out of their way to make their loved ones feel safe.

“You guys deserve the fucking world and some blood and the lack and of contact during missions won’t change my mind about that. This night was the worst day of my life but I would do it over and over again if it means I can stay close to him, because he’s worth it.”

You definitely overshared a bit, but by the look of it, Bakugou doesn’t care nor comments on it.

“You are different than the rest.” He mumbles, playing with a piece of meat at the bottom of the almost empty bowl.

“Different?”

“Yeah. I didn’t like this whole roomie idea, you know.” He admits. “It’s dangerous, even with a mutual friend. A lot of people tried to use him and he’s so fucking naive. But I can see it in your eyes, you know… That you care about him. And he also can’t shut up about you, so.. welcome to the family, or whatever. Also, gimme’ your phone number so I can update you on all the shit so you don’t freak out.” Bakugou throws his unlocked phone into your lap; his background is a picture of the gang sitting on each other on Deku’s sofa. He’s so cute.

“Thank you… for accepting me. It means a lot.” You mumble sheepishly, your whole face red as a tomato. Bakugou snaps his phone out of your hands and throws it in the air to catch it, just to be cool and edgy.

“Save the cheesy shit for the nerd, Freeloader.” The blonde grins. “Make sure he sleeps enough. He’ll be good as new by the afternoon.” Dynamight stands up to put the dishes into the dishwasher. “Thanks for the food, send me the recipe.”

And with that, the hero is gone and the the silence is back; you lie down on the sofa and listen to the noises coming from Deku’s room, but after a few rustles, everything quiets down and only the soft, content snores can be heard from the room next door.

You fall asleep on the sofa, not having the energy to go into your room; at least you will be there in case Midoriya needs help during the night.

~•🥦•~

You wake up to Midoriya’s footsteps around 9 AM; barely a few hours after he came home last night. He looks disheveled and confused as he tries to put on his hero costume.

“Midoriya… go to sleep.” You pull yourself up; the hero jumps in surprise by the sight of you. “How do you want to fight evil if you can’t even sense me sleeping on the sofa, huh?”

You know that’s a low blow, but you’d do anything to keep the hero from going out today. He needs to stay home and you also need him to rest for your own sanity. He looks pale and all over the place, there is no way you’ll let him go out like that.

“Y/N, I’m fine. I can’t skip work…” Midoriya is just about to start rambling about the importance of his job, but you don’t let him finish. You throw your phone towards him which he catches in one swift move.

“Read it.”

Dynamight: Yo, freeloader. Tell Deku he’s not needed today. I found cover for him. If he leaves the house I’ll kill him.

“How does he know your number?”

Fuck, you didn’t think this through. Midoriya is not supposed to know about yesterday.

“He left a note with his number on the table, so I sent him a message.” You lie, feeling terrible for doing so but it’s all for his sake.

Deku doesn’t say anything just sits down next you; his face looks sad and heartbroken, but he doesn’t say a word about it. You really want to hug him but you are not sure it would be appreciated right now.

“Mido…” You are just about speak up, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“You are lying to me.” He declares with a heartbroken smile. He knows. He doesn’t remember but he’s a clever guy and you are a terrible liar.

“Not all lies are bad. Sometimes, people lie for the sake of their loved ones.”

“I also lied.” Midoriya admits. “About me being okay. I’m really tired. Mentally. Physically. In every single way.”

“I know.“ You can’t help it; your hands move towards Midoriya’s frizzy curls. Midoriya melts into the touch, clearly desperate for affection now that the air is clean between you two. “Put your head into my lap and let’s watch a movie, okay?” That way he can fall asleep and you can keep an eye on him for the rest of the day. Win-Win.

~•🥦•~

As the movie starts, the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. It’s a dumb and fluffy movie, something that takes his mind away from all the violence in the real world. Midoriya’s hair is full of knots under your palm, so you slowly rake your fingers through the mess, detangling it lock by lock as the green haired hero contentedly sighs, urging you to keep going. It’s way too domestic and way too intimate but you can’t stop; Midoriya clearly needs the attention right now, he’s melting into your touch, his cheek buried into the soft throw that sits between your things and his head for more comfort.

When the movie ends, you realize you didn’t even look at the screen once but neither did Midoriya; he’s fast asleep on your lap, drooling like a golden retriever after a full day of fun. You try to clean him up a bit but he’s not having any of it; he murmurs in his sleep and takes your hand in his, subconsciously caressing the skin. A shiver goes down your spine from the soft touch, churning your insides with it, but you don’t have the heart to wake him up.

Midoriya is too much. He’s so kind, so beautiful, so affectionate, and so-so full of love; you can’t believe you are on the receptive side of all of this. You really feel like you don’t deserve Midoriya’s attention and deep inside you know it doesn’t mean the same to him as it means to you but right here, right now, you let it all in, ready for the biggest heartbreak in your life when this is all over.

~•🥦•~

You wake up after a few hours, still in the same position. Midoriya’s now flawlessly fluffy head is still resting in your lap but he’s facing the other way around; he looks up at you with sleepy eyes, a tired but honest smile decorating his handsome face.

“Good morning, sweet pea.” He mumbles half asleep, hiding his face in your tummy for a few more seconds of peace.

The nickname almost makes your heart stop, but you try your best to ignore the fluttery feeling in your chest.

“I’m quite sure it’s afternoon.” You strike back with a sass, which the green haired hero blissfully ignores.

“Whatever. It’s nice.”

“Yeah.” You admit with a red face, and this is the moment Dynamight chooses to barge into the flat with a bunch of other people behind him.

Okay, this is extremely awkward.

Do these people know how to knock?!

“THE MIDORIYA CHEERING UP SQUAD HAS ARRIVED!” Chargebolt yells while the others hide their faces in embarrassment.

“By the look of it, shitty Deku has a good enough time already.” Dynamight snickers and Deku jumps up like a happy puppy to forcefully hug the shit out of the annoyed blonde. While everyone is busy staring at the two hugging each other, you take a moment to take a look at the intruders; every single of these people are heroes you follow on every single available social media.

Don’t freak out.

Don’t. Freak. Out.

Don’t…

“OH MY GOD, THATS RED RIOT THAT’S FUCKING RED RIOT, Midoriya!”

Fuck.

… Next Part!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Random ramble from the potato:

- Thank you so much for all the love on this series I'm so happy you love it as much as I do, this is baby😭���

- Also, you are not ready for the next part! Ask my bestie, she has a lot to say about it. 😂 @porusuniverse

- I accidentally bought a Deku figurine today. And a Todoroki one. It was an accident, I swear. Kacchan was lonely, he needed a friend.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated as always 💚 Tell me your thoughts! 🥦

Taglist: @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo (wanna be added? Just tell me in the comments/send me a message!)

[anitalianfrie]

please please tell me more about bezz uni student au that lives in your head

anon i went and opened the unibo nightmare site just for you, i hope you know this

first of all, small introduction to the univeristy system in italy: uni is usually divided in two segments/degrees: triennale (three years) and the magistrale (two years). this is true for the majority of degrees with some exceptions like medicine, which is six years and is not divided in triennale and magistrale.

bez either does mechanical engineering or something like. economics. and is a fuoricorso (meaning that he's been studying for his degree for more years than it should actually take). he lives in a shitty rented apartment with mig and pecco and a misterious third flatmated who bails on them in september which means they are in dire need of a new guy to replace him. Pecco remembers about a kid his mum told him about, the son of a friend of a friend of a friend, and scrambles to call him and ask him if he needs a place to stay. Luckily for everybody, Cele does.

so cele, nineteen and doe eyed, who's about to start his first year in uni (he's an engineer 100% i just need to decide whether mechanic or aerospace) moves in. and that's how it starts, idk yet about the rest but something will happen. angst will occour.

vale is the crazy professor every single one of them had (either physics or analysis or something equally crazy) and has an insane feud with marc who teaches his same course/is in his same department. rosquez craziness is never out of my aus.

bez goes around with totebags, is an active member of various uni associations and lives out of pasta al tonno (pasta with canned tuna) than he still manages to cook abysmally and things he heats on the pan (not the microwave bc the apartment doesn't have one) that his mum makes him every weekend when he gets back home. he doesn't know he's bi and living with cele (gay, out and proud. okay not really proud nor out but doesn't hide it. kinda involved in the uni lgbt association after the first months, asks bez to go scout it with him and bez almost implodes) sends him to the deepest pits of gay hell and desperation.

idk what the others would study yet tbh.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Letters Part One

John Mitchell x Reader

Words: 2927

Summary: More of Mitchell’s past comes back to haunt him when the first person he ever turned shows up at the flat needing his help. On the run from her coven in Ireland, the reader seeks refuge with the one person she ever truly loved in her decades of living. 

Notes: Mitchell, to this day, is one of my favorite characters both in general and to write. I’ve never really done a series for him, so I thought this could be fun. I have no idea how long I want this to be, I’m just going with it. 

-

June 7th 1917

My dearest John,

Another summer day passes without you and the only question anyone can figure to ask me is if I’ve decided upon a date. I’m half tempted to lie and tell them we eloped before you left just to see their reactions. Though, sometimes I wish it was true. 

Look at me, rambling even through paper and pen. I know you’ve always said how fond you are of it, but I always feel so ridiculous. I hope here it can bring a smile to your face. You know how I long to see that smile again. 

I know it won’t be long, my love. I can feel it, though you may not believe in that kind of thing, I do believe there are forces that even you, John Mitchell, cannot understand. Until then, I will keep you with me through your words. 

Write soon, my love. 

Yours completely,

Y/N

-

The ferry horn blared in your ears, ringing around like the thoughts in your mind.

This was a mistake. You didn’t have any other choice. He would turn you away. He owed you. You promised yourself to never think of him again. How could you see him now? 

You didn’t have any other choice. 

This was a mistake. 

Over and over, round and round, the parade of problems just made your hangover worse. 

You should have had more to drink. Maybe then you’d still be drunk for what was going to happen next. It was already going to be a wreck, so what could a little whiskey hurt?

Just the thought of a shot almost made you hurl over the rail. 

You ran a hand down your face and sat on one of the rain-soaked benches. Your phone sat in your lap. It wasn’t your fault you couldn’t call first. There weren’t exactly phone numbers the last time you saw each other. 

So there you were, on the ferry headed toward the last remaining thread of your past. The man you loved. The man who’d left you. 

You hung your head and stuffed your phone in your pocket. “Damn you, John Mitchell.” 

-

It wasn’t fair. One would assume being dead meant being immune to such human problems as a hangover, but that just wasn’t the case. 

Mitchell gripped the coffee mug in his hands, sitting on the sofa with a grimace and a glance at his roommates that said not to bother him. 

They’d never understood it. There was something about this day, some reason that he always drank too much, always insisted on spending it alone. 

Annie, of course, had many theories. Maybe it’s the anniversary of when he was turned? Maybe vampires just have a set day every year when they turn into wankers. Or, her favorite, perhaps today reminded him of some great love that he’d lost. She’d never voiced that last one to either of them so she had no way of knowing how right she was. 

Mitchell stared at the wall. 

He should be over it by now, shouldn’t he? All these years, all of the other horrible things he’d done. But this was the one that would stay with him forever. The one he would never get past. The one that started all of it. 

“So… calling in sick tonight?” George asked, looking at the time. Sure, they had hours before their shift, but he had a feeling his flatmate wouldn’t be moving from that couch anytime soon. 

Mitchell just nodded. 

Annie opened her mouth to suggest making a night of it, but Mitchell stood and hurried up the stairs to avoid any other interactions for the rest of the day. 

He couldn't handle their worried glances or pitying comments. Not today. 

“What’s gotten into him?” Annie asked. “It seems every year, he has to choose today to be his time of the month.” She laughed lightly. George just gave her an exasperated look. “Get it? Because you… and I used to… oh never mind.” 

George had known Mitchell for only slightly longer than Annie had, but he’d made the same observations. And he’d decided it was probably best to let vampire problems remain vampire problems. 

The day passed away, ticking slowly on, and neither of them heard or saw Mitchell at all. 

“Just… keep an eye on him,” George said as he headed for the door.

Annie held up a hand, an idea clear on her face.

George sighed. “Not by poofing into his room.” 

Annie frowned. 

The roommates bid each other goodnight and George cast one last worried glance up the stairs before he left for work. 

He stepped out into the early evening air and took a long, deep breath. He looked up at the moon. Still a good two weeks away from his least favorite day of the month. Things were going to be okay, even if Mitchell was broodier than usual George took a step off of the front stairs and ran right into something. 

Not something. 

Someone. 

Mitchell hadn’t moved in hours, but he couldn’t sleep either. All he could do was sit and stare and smoke and put out cigarettes and smoke some more. The coffee had helped his hangover enough to have him thinking about round two. 

Anything to clear the sound of her voice from his head. 

“Oh, god, I am so-” George stammered, looking down at the woman he’d stumbled into. 

“It’s fine, really.” You backed away, the scent of wolf invading your senses before you could prepare for it. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“No, the fault is all mine.” George glanced over you and you tried to imagine what he saw. 

Shaking. 

Tattered. 

Broken. 

What a great first impression. 

“Can I…” His brows drew together in confusion. “Help you?” 

You could smell it from the street. Cigarette smoke wafting down from an open window. Had your heart been beating it would have stopped. Somehow… you just knew. 

“No, I think I’ll find my way, thanks.” You gave the werewolf a smile and watched him head off. 

You breathed in, staring up at that open window. 

There, beneath the smell of the tobacco, was him. 

You could sense him, see him as if he were standing there in front of you. Those dark curls, his hazel eyes that seemed to burn like candlelight. His lips. Lips that used to kiss you goodnight. That smiled whenever he saw you. 

You doubted you’d receive such a warm greeting now considering how you left things. Or rather, how he left. 

Rock music played into the street. It was odd, hearing him listen to modern music. It reminded you of how much of your lives you’d spent apart now. 

You knocked.

“Good lord, George, forget something alr- oh-” A pretty woman opened the door, mouth falling open when she saw you. “Hello. Sorry, I thought you were my flatmate.” 

“Hi,” you smiled, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. But as you tried to form your next words, it felt like you had cotton in your mouth. Just the idea of saying his name…

“You alright dear?” She asked. She pushed the door open further. “Why don’t you come inside, you look like-”

“I’ve seen a ghost?” You blurted. That’s what she was, you realized as you took in that faint glow of death around her. 

She blinked, looking more concerned. 

You continued before she could start something else. “Does John Mitchell live here?” 

“Um, yeah-” Her brows drew together in confusion. “I’m sorry, who are you?” 

“How rude of me,” you exclaimed, plastering a charming smile on your face. “John and I go way back. I rang him earlier, he knows I’m here.”

Annie seemed a little more at ease with your sunny demeanor. 

“Let me go get him,” she said. “You can come in and wait if you’d like?”

You stepped over the threshold, the invisible barrier falling. 

“Thank you.” 

She turned away and started up the stairs. 

You took a deep breath. 

This was a mistake. 

You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t stand there, in his living room, like you really were just some old acquaintance. 

You stepped back into the dark and let your gaze go back to the window. 

Annie knocked lightly and opened the door. 

Mitchell was laid out on his bed, exhausted from his day at work, with a book in his hands. He looked up with a rather annoyed expression. 

“There’s a woman here for you,” Annie said. She shrugged. “Irish, I think. Says she’s an old friend of yours, which I’m assuming means she’s a vampire.” Realization washes over her face and Annie bites her lip. “Oh, that means I shouldn’t have invited her in.”

Mitchell scrambled out of bed. 

 “I’m still not used to that, you know,” Annie defended, hurrying after him as he ran down the stairs.

Both paused, finding the front door open and the living room empty. 

“I swear, she was just here,” Annie said. 

The pieces started to come together in Mitchell’s mind. 

It couldn’t be. 

“Just,” he let out a heavy sigh, “be more careful about who you let in.”

“What are they going to do, kill me?” 

Mitchell rolled his eyes and returned to his room. His mind was reeling with too many thoughts for him to notice that, when he walked in, he wasn’t alone. Mitchell froze as the door clicked behind him. 

“Hello, John.” 

It wasn’t possible. That voice. Those eyes. You sat on the edge of his bed and were glad. If you were standing, you might have collapsed under his gaze. 

“Y/N,” Mitchell gasped. He steadied himself against the door. 

Those eyes.

Eyes he’d dreamt of for decades. The ones he could never get out of his head. 

“Sorry for the dramatics. I thought you might not have wanted this conversation to happen in front of your… friend.” You stood, trying to force yourself to stay calm. You were here for a reason. 

He straightened, letting whatever frustration and anger he could muster take over. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I-” You reached up as if trying to see if he was really there. If he was real. But when you saw your shaking hand, you stuffed it in your jacket pocket. “I need your help, John.” 

“You can’t be serious,” he scoffed. “It’s been-”

“I know how long it’s been,” you snapped, taking a step toward him. “Do you think I would be here if it wasn’t important?” 

“I can’t imagine what would bring you here at all.” 

You lowered your gaze to the floor and took a breath. “I heard about Herrick.”

Mitchell crossed his arms. “And you decided to pop by? Share your condolences.”

“Of course not. You know how much I hated…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “My point is, I'm not the only one who has heard, John.”

“I go by Mitchell now.”

“That would be a tad confusing for me, don’t you think?” You were letting your emotions get the better of you. “Look, I’m not here to hash out old problems. I’m here because you’re the only one who can help me, John-” You winced. “Mitchell.” 

There’s a tremor to your voice, one that always used to send protective shocks through his limbs. It still did. You were scared and it made his cold exterior melt. 

Mitchell sighed. “What happened?” 

The blood. The fire. Your cohort's bodies turned to ash and whisked away into the night. 

“I think I need a drink.” 

Mitchell frowned. 

You rolled your eyes. “Christ, I’m talking about whiskey, Mitchell. Not a waitress.”

“So you don’t…”

“I’m not perfect, I’ve had a few slips over the decades but,” you blew out a sigh, “I’m clean. For a while now.” 

He nodded. Something flashed in his gaze. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought it was admiration. The way he used to look at you…

“I’ve been trying, too,” he said. “Get clean, I mean.”

“I’m sure Herrick took that well.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” His ferocity returned. “Herrick’s dead. Everything can go back to normal now.”

“My God, do you hear yourself?” You scoffed. “Everything can go back to normal. What is normal?”

“I have a life now, Y/N. One away from the shadows and the,” he sucked in a breath, “the blood.” He gave you a long, hard stare. “I won’t let anything mess that up again.”

“They’re going to kill me, John,” you finally blurted. “And for the first time in a long time, I am right scared.” The wavering in your voice made it hard to speak but you forced yourself to remain steady. You felt pathetic enough begging for his help. 

“Who?” Mitchell growled. He clenched his fists at his sides. 

“The coven I’ve spent the past decade with.” The name tasted foul on your tongue like you were still breathing in the ashes of your home. “Their leader- Lizzy Kain.” 

Mitchell’s face shifted again. 

“You pissed off the Kains?” He said. His voice was so calm it scared you more than the hoard of angry Irish vampires on your tail. 

You swallowed. 

Mitchell opened his door and motioned for you to follow. 

“I think I’ll get us that drink now.”

-

Y/N,

Things are getting worse. They say that one of the big players in England just became werewolf-chow and now Lizzy is going mad. She keeps talking about following in Herrick’s footsteps and taking what’s rightfully ours. I remembered you saying that name before and I was wondering if we could talk? I’m getting scared. They’re just taking people from the streets now. That creep, Ron or whatever, brought in a thirteen-year-old girl. He didn’t even turn her, just tore her apart. 

We have to stop them, somehow. 

Meet me at the old clock tower at sunset. 

Kieran

-

“So you didn’t go along with the big bad plan and Lizzy makes you an example?” Mitchell paced in front of you. “Something there doesn’t add up.”

Your fingers gripped the beer bottle in your hand so tight you thought you’d break it. 

“What did you do?” Mitchell eyed you.

You took a drink.

“Y/N-”

“I may or may not have,” you took a deep breath, “killed her husband.” 

Mitchell almost dropped his bottle. “Y-you what?” 

“He was a creep who harassed me every chance he got and he was recruiting kids. Kids, Mitchell.” 

“So you decided to take matters into your own hands, well that’s just great.” He ran a hand through the dark curls you used to tangle your fingers in. “I’m sure you feel very noble now.”

Anger pulsed through you like the heartbeat you no longer had. You stood, setting your drink aside. “I knew it was a mistake coming here.” You started for the door. 

Mitchell sighed. “Y/N, wait.” 

You kept moving. 

A hand closed around your arm. 

“Just wait.” There’s a slight plea to his voice. “I shouldn’t judge you for trying to do something… good.” You always were the good one, he wanted to add but didn’t. 

You stood there for a moment, taking him in. 

He did the same. 

“I’m sorry, but could someone please clue me in as to what the hell is going on?” Annie huffed. 

You’d forgotten she’d been standing in the kitchen doorway, listening in even though Mitchell had specifically asked for some privacy. 

Frustration returned to his face. 

“It’s complicated-”

“I’m sorry, I have been incredibly rude.” You flashed the ghost a grin, a touch of your ingrained Irish charm breaking through your panic. You crossed the living room to shake her hand. “I’m Y/N.”

“You said that, yeah.” She eyed you suspiciously. 

“Mitchell and I have known each other for a long time.” You glanced over your shoulder, unsure of how much he wanted to reveal. 

“He knew Herrick for a long time, too.” 

“Annie-”

You held up a hand to stop him. “It’s okay.” 

Annie shifted on her feet. It wasn’t normal for her to be like this and it made her uncomfortable.

“I can understand why you might have a healthy distrust of vampires.” You motioned behind you with a smirk. “Other than him, of course.”

Finally, a small smile spread across the spirit’s lips. “Even him sometimes.” 

“I can hear you.”

“We know.” Both of you said at the same time. 

Annie peaked over your shoulder. “Okay, I think I like her.” 

“I’m already winning your friends over.” You gave Mitchell a victorious smile. “Now you have to help me.” 

 He rolled his eyes. “You haven’t met George.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s right,” Annie grimaced. “Plus Nina just moved out and that’s a whole mess unto itself, let me tell you-”

Mitchell cut her off. 

“Can we get back to the reason you’re here?” He said. “What makes you think I can help you?” Mitchell held out his arms, motioning to the flat. “It isn’t exactly the perfect place to hide.”

“Who are we hiding?” The door opened as he was speaking. The man you’d bumped into before stepped in. He spotted you and furrowed his brows. “Oh, um, hello.”

“Wait,” Annie said, still trying to wrap her mind around everything. “How exactly do you two know each other again? Were you part of Herrick’s groupies?”

“Herrick?” George gulped. 

“No, it isn’t that.” Mitchell moved to stand next to you. “George, this is Y/N.” He turned to you, a flicker of who he used to be resurfacing as he spoke. “My wife.” 

[what-if-queen-camilla]

Like grandfather, like grandson - Chapter 2

“And you really don't know what he's up to?” Virginia asked and looked at her flatmate in disbelief, but Camilla shookher head. “I tell you - I have no idea, not the slightest!” “But it sounds very serious…”, Virginia said, as she looked at the noble invitation card that a courier had brought earlier today once more. It was terribly fancy and elegant, even with The King’s cypher on it, but it only revealed a time when she’d be picked up by a driver and suggested that she’d be dressed in “day dress”, so it couldn’t be too serious, Camilla tried to soothe herself. She had been dating Charles for about six months now and though she had always been really fond of him, it had taken her a while to realise that she was actually in love with the young Prince. A part of her still tried to deny it but deep in her heart, she knew it was true. Previously, she had been on and off with Andrew for almost five years; she had been head over heels in love with him and therefore forgiven him all of his escapades, the endless “slips” and the notorious cheating, but when she had caught him in flagrante with none other than Princess Anne at the edge of a polo match at Windsor Castle in one of the stables last summer, it had been enough humiliation for her. She had lost it completely and in a very strange twist of fate, that crying little mess she had turned into after her painful discovery, had bumped into none other than Prince Charles. She had been incredibly embarrassed at first, but he had been so wonderful, had taken her into his arms, held and comforted her lovingly and didn't even ask questions. In fact, he hadn't until now and she was more than grateful for it. Since that day, they had started seeing each other regularly. Charles had taken her out for walks, rides, the theatre and opera, they had been hunting together and he even took an interest in her drawings (though she herself considered them terrible, quite in contrast to his…), he had encouraged her to take proper classes which she had actually done and enjoyed immensely… he had shown her a whole new world and introduced her to so many things she hadn't been open to beforehand. Andrew had only ever taken her to dinners, parties or to the polo but Charles was so knowledgeable and interested in so many different things, it was mind-blowing really, he was mind-blowing, and before she could've thought about anything twice, she had found herself head over heels in love with the young Prince. Her sister was already teasing her, calling her “Your Royal Highness” but marrying Charles was out of the question for her. As much as she loved him and as happy as he made her - he needed and deserved a wife literally “fit for Queen” - and that was not her. If only he wasn't a future King, she could've come to terms with an Earl or a Marquess perhaps, but a Prince? The mere imagination almost frightened her to death. “Goodness, Virginia, I hope he doesn't have any… ideas…” 

Camilla couldn’t quite believe her eyes as the car that had picked her up actually drove through the main gates of Windsor Castle about 45 minutes later. She had never been here before, at least not inside of the Castle and suddenly felt incredibly underdressed in her cute, knee-length dark blue velvet gown, but she had dressed exactly in accordance with the dress code on the mysterious invitation. The car slowly made its way up to the quadrangle and eventually stopped in front of the main entrance, and her heart beated like mad as she got out of the car and followed an equerry through the main entrance - where her Prince was already waiting for her and greeted her with an affectionate kiss, which she, however, joined only reluctantly given the presence of the servant, who, thank goodness, discreetly disappeared. “Hello my beautiful darling.” Charles smiled tenderly and his loving and admiring eyes all over her gave her a thousand little butterflies immediately. “Hello you.” She replied softly and gently patted his bum which made him laugh. “What have I done to deserve an invitation to such an exclusive place?” She asked, looking at him in expectation, but he just smiled and softly whispered: “I wanted to show you something which I'm sure you'll love.” Before he playfully took her by the hand and guided her through the corridors of the ancient castle. Camilla didn't even know where to look at, it was simply incredible to be wandering through the mediaeval walls and to think of all the historic people, the Kings and Queens of long gone centuries, who'd been wandering around here just like that before, until Charles stopped in front of a huge door, asking her to close her eyes. She was a bit afraid of what might happen but she loved and trusted him so she did as requested while he tenderly placed both of his hands on her shoulders, carefully and slowly guiding her into the next room. 

Though Camilla didn’t cheat and kept her eyes closed tightly, she sensed the sunlight possibly shining through a huge window front and a slightly woody, smokey and earthy smell which almost drove her mad with excitement and curiosity. Where was he taking her and what did he want to show her? “Careful, darling, here’s a table…”, he said and gently helped her walk around, until he finally motioned her to stop and turned her around. “Alright, darling.”, he whispered and she could literally hear his loving smile just by the way he had said this. “Open your eyes…” She immediately did as requested and found herself in front of an old and obviously priceless, wooden desk with a huge, and apparently just as old and priceless book with a thick red leather binding, gilded with the most exquisite ornaments of gold in each corner. “This is Charles I’s copy of ‘The Complete Works of Shakespeare.”, Charles explained and reverently stroked over the red leather binding. “Oh… Wow… Goodness me!” Camilla exclaimed breathlessly, desperately trying to realise what an incredible piece of history was lying just in front of her. “It was read and annotated by my ancestor while he was imprisoned during the Civil War here at Windsor Castle.”, he went on, carefully taking her hand and placing it on the book cover as well. The leather felt incredibly beneath her finger tips and Camilla couldn’t even grasp what treasure she was touching right now. “He was reading it more or less up until he was executed.”, Charles went on and carefully opened the book, unerringly turning to the contents page. “Darling, look, here’s where he started writing in characters.”, her Prince whispered, once again, solemnly touching the original handwriting of his ancestor - and there were, indeed, characters from some of the works written next to the respective play. “That… is his handwriting?”, Camilla asked, completely overwhelmed and unbelieving as she marvelled at the pages. “It is.”, the Prince confirmed and she couldn’t believe how beautiful and accurate the former monarch’s handwriting was.

“What’s this about, darling, ‘Benedick and Beatrice?” She asked, regarding a handwritten note from King Charles I next to the listing of Shakespeare’s “Oh.” Charles cleared his throat. “That was an alternative title for ‘Much ado about nothing.’ And, look, here he wrote ‘Pyramus and Thisbe’ next to ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” He excitedly showed her and Camilla frowned her forehead. “But they’re such… Quite minor characters if I may say so.”, she remarked and he agreed: “It’s strange, isn’t it?”, he replied and  suddenly suggested: “Why don't you read a bit from that piece?” They’d been talking about it, she knew he loved it just as much as she did and so she happily agreed. “Okay…” Leaving him turning to the respective page.. Eventually, she reached Act 2, Scene 1, dramatically reciting Helena: “I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well.” When, suddenly, her Prince took her hand and got down on his knee. “My sweet, beautiful darling Camilla…”, he began, and had her all teared up immediately. Of course she knew what was going to come next… what she had been dreading and at the same time longing for ever since that one fateful day back in June… “‘I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well’ - Darling, there is only one hand I’d ever want to die upon because I love it so well - and that’s yours. Ever since I’ve met you - or rather: ever since we’ve been a couple - my life has become so much lighter and happier, everything seems more joyful and brighter, now, that I can share it with you. Camilla, Darling, I want to share everything with you. I want to be with you every day, every night, I want you to be the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see before I fall asleep at night… I want you to be my wife, my Princess, and, so God will, one day, my Queen!” With that, he pulled out a little black velvet jewellery box, reverently opening it. Camilla, who had meanwhile got down on her knees in shock and emotion as well, couldn’t quite believe her eyes when she eventually acknowledged the priceless ring her Prince was offering her… “Camilla, will you marry me?”, he finally asked solemnly and she felt as if somebody was choking her. This ring, and this whole atmosphere was just…. perfect. They were anything any girl could ever dream of - but she was not one of these girls. She was not… worth it. She’d had boyfriends before and certainly broke more than just a handful of rules throughout her youth and her sweet, lovely and gorgeous Prince, no matter how cute and innocent he was, could not possibly seriously ask her this question. “Charles, Darling, listen I…”, she started with an insecure voice. “I love you, I, I really do! But I can’t marry you… I’m not… What you’re looking for. I could never be the wife you need and deserve…” And with this, she pushed the ring back into his hands, her own hands shaking. She was so confused and actually had to hold back some tears. This was all way too much and way too unexpected. But way too wonderful, too. Her mind was so confused.

[phagodyke]

istg one of these days.......

[yonpote]

I'm relatively new to the phandom and have recently starting reading fanfics and it's so incredibly fascinating. Like, in my opinion more than anything else it's a reflection of the phandom itself at any given moment of time.

What were the popular tropes? How did people write them as individuals and their dynamic? What did people know? What didn't they know? What did the writers rightly or wrongly assume? How "ooc" do dnp feel from today's perspective? Which people are picked as "villains" or friends? (funfact about that: the first time I came across a "charlie" mention was very recently after that gamingmas collab with pj and charlie so i assumed they were referring to charlieissocoollike and was so offended on her behalf. took me a while until it clicked)

I've noticed that to be able really understand the fics and not get utterly confused, it's almost always vital to check the date the fics were uploaded and kind of put it into historical context, literary analysis style.

yeah i think fanfic in general will always end up reflecting more on the mindset of the person writing than of the people/characters it's based on. i think whats interesting is that in recent years, now that we have a bit more context with what's going on and perhaps fics being written by grown adults with new life experiences lol, the way people have written dnp has very much changed! i know im the bottomphil rant guy but actually in fic you see a lot more variety wrt positions as well as D/s roles in smut. (shout out to dombottom flatmates!phil) or for a less horny example, you'll see people write dnp in both modern au's and "canon compliant" fics as like, struggling students or living in shit apartments with shit jobs, with mental health problems that ARENT fixed with the power of true love lmao as well as just generally exploring neurodivergence and their dynamic beyond friendship and beyond romance.

honestly whenever i talk abt the tropey stereotypes of days past its not like its something that JUST happened with phan, the Aggressive Masc and the Soft UWU Femme goes as far back as people have been writing about romance. so i think all the relatively recent changes is like, fic writers growing up and having new experiences as well as generally improving at writing, general fandom culture changing as well as Phandom culture specifically changing, dnp changing quite a bit and opening up to their audience, prob other stuff im forgetting but YEAH its all really interesting stuff!

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Hey bae, I've enjoyed your lords of chaos fics so far and I really liked the hcs and I just wanted to ask you could make one for necrobutcher? He was so fine in the movie but no one ever talks about him :)

Hello anon happy that you enjoyed my works so far. Pretty cute in the movie but the only voice of reason. So I hope and everyone else likes this little story and as always have fun readinf :)

It's over

warning : fluff, hurt/comfort, mention of suicide

masterlist

Disclaimer : I don't want to glorify anything, it's about the actors who play a role, not the real events.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

°The two of you actually met in the supermarket one day. You wanted to buy something for you and your flatmate, who didn't really have anything any more. Almost the same was true for Necrobutcher the bass player and member of Mayhem he was still something like the voice of reason.

°Just as she was going to the section with the muesli and other packaged foods, she saw a black-haired young man. From then on, the two of you got into a conversation, or rather, he made the first move. A bad joke, a little laugh and a question about what all the patches on his jacket were for.

°There was a spark between the dark mysterious basist and the simple medical student. Which is why he not only wrote her number on her hand, but also lied her into the next rehearsal of Mayhem in the dried-out hut.

°She would be lying if she didn't find him attractive. There was something about him that was slightly mysterious, funny, realistic and, from what she had heard, not as evil as the news described all those statists. Which is why she went to the cottage at the weekend.

°When she arrived and went into the old hut, she quickly realised that it had seen better days. ,,Hey, Y/n, come with me, I'll show you the others!" he called cheerfully from the kelelr and wrapped her in a hug before they went downstairs. There she met the rest of the band from mayhem - nice but somehow strange people.

°Sitting down on the floor, she watched the band animatedly. Even though the music wasn't really her cup of tea at first, she soon felt herself swaying and humming along to the lyrics and cheering the band on. Before she pulled Necrobutcher into her arms, slightly embarrassed, and praised him.

°Staying with the band throughout the day, a small partx took place in the evening, where she not only had fun but also sat on the couch with the black-haired man and watched a film to ignore the noise from outside. He had his arm around her and she had her head on his shoulder. A cute moment that ended the evening with them kissing. The first kiss of many that night the two somehow ended up in a relationship.

°She quickly realised how sensitive, emotional and devoted he was. He listened to her problems, hugged her, kissed her and was there for her. He was indeed the most socially normal of mayhem and understood her worries that one day something might happen. Even though they both supported each other.

°But the day came when it would happen. The suicide of Dead and Euroynmou's exaggeration. He had gone too far and exploited his friend's death just for the sake of success. That same day, she got a call from Necrobutcher from a phone box who was more than upset and asked her to pick him up because his bike had a flat.

°As soon as she got into her car and drove off, she was worried. It was bound to happen sometime, she thought bitterly and sadly, before stopping at the phone box a few minutes later and getting out. She held the distraught and almost tearful Necrobutcher in her arms for a moment. She just held him and he mumbled and apologised for something he couldn't do.

°Then they loaded the fahard into the car and drove to him, as his family was not there at the moment anyway. Sitting down together on the couch, he rested his head on her lap and was quiet. But she was also quiet and just stroked his head. ,,It's going to be all right...they're gone, you don't have to go there any more," she said and only saw the brief nod. A moment later he sat down and wrapped her in a grateful kiss and held her hand. ,,Thank you for everything," he murmured and put his hand on her cheek.

°Not knowing that the past would catch up with them both. The suicide was only the beginning, then Faust's murder of the gay man and finally Varg's murder of euronymous. It was terrible, and yet the two survived the time together. They moved in together, helped each other and lived normal, free lives as best they could. Knowing that the horror had only made them both stronger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@mayhem-things , @bvg-w1res , @beldamama

[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

Today, on 28th January, 2011

Q Magazine published with Queen 16-page exclusive - May & Taylor Speak! / 'The Unseen Freddie'

Roger Taylor interview (extract)

Who did you have most in common with when the band first got together?

Brian, really. We haven’t always got on but we’ve come to realise that we need one another. Brian is my enduring mate, but I was very close to Fred. I think we were the naughty ones.

You and Freddie were flatmates for a while in the very early days of Queen. Did you cook for each other?

Oh God! [Laughs]. One Christmas I was there with Fred and all we had was a packet of bread sauce that you make with water. We used to dream of a can of beans! We were very broke but we still managed to ponce about and appear rather grand.

You’d been a dentistry student. Did Freddie ever ask you for advice about his teeth?

Well, not really. His teeth were in strange places. I think he was very fearful, quite squeamish about having anything done because it would have involved fairly major surgery.

Queen released their first seven albums between 1973 and ’78. Not bad going…

No, I suppose it wasn’t. We were very painstaking making the albums, too. It was almost like a privilege to get in these studios which, at the time, cost what seemed like a fortune. Thirty quid for every hour! So we respected that and just grafted.

Did Bohemian Rhapsody seem like a peculiar song at all when Freddie first suggested it?

No, I loved it. The first bit that he played to me, was the verse. “Mama, just killed a man, dah-dah-la-dah-daah, gun against his…” All that. I thought, “That’s great, that’s a hit!” It was in my head, a simpler entity then; I didn’t know it was going to have a wall of mock Gilbert and Sullivan stuff, you know, some of which was written on the fly. Freddie would write these huge blocks of mass harmonies on the backs of phone books.

When Freddie would say thinks like “What’s a mortgage, darling?” in interviews, Brian and John didn’t seem to like it too much…

No, I don’t think they did.

What did you make of it?

I thought it was hilarious because it was always a complete wind-up. He knew that what would annoy people more than anything was assuming this sort of Marie Antoinette… “Let them eat cake!” That was him. You know, “F*** ‘em. If they don’t like me I’ll be even worse than they expect.

Did you ever accompany him on his legendary shopping sprees?

Oh yeah. We used to buy each other rugs occasionally. Freddie used to say, “Always buy the best, dear”, which is a great piece of advice. There’s no point in getting the Jag when you can have the Aston Martin.

Was that your philosophy?

In a way, although I didn’t take it anyway near as far as he did. We’ve been incredibly lucky, we’ve had a great career and I’ve never been one to hide it. We are what we are. At the same time we’ve done lot of quite good things. Maybe [laughs].

Queen’s parties were infamously wild…

It really was a very small part of what was going on. We just thought it was a laugh. If we could screw that much money out of the record company to have an almighty blowout then why not? It’s just become… the myth of the dwarf with the coke on his head [at the New Orleans launch party for their 1978 album Jazz] and all that. It never happened.

Really?

No. Well, I never saw it [laughs]. I’d tell you if I did. There were weird things going on but… [mildly weary] the parties and everything, people like to hear about all that but it’s sort of in the past now.

But you must appreciate why people love those stories.

Yeah, but I wouldn’t recommend a party with a hundred strippers as a great marketing tool.

In an interview back then you said, “I like strip clubs and strippers and wild parties with naked women.” Was that an accurate summary of your interests?

Ha! All true, of course.

Was cocaine ever your thing at all?

Well, everything was around then. We did a bit of this and that but I don’t think it ever really ruled us.

Everything in moderation.

[Laughs]. We were never for moderation.

As Queen became more successful, why did you travel around in separate limos?

That was the easiest way to do it. Limos are the stupidest cars. There’s really only room for two passengers and you’d usually have your girlfriend or wife or whatever, companion, or your assistant with you. We could afford four you know? It was nothing to do with not wanting to speak to one another.

What did you think when Freddie turned up one day with his new moustache?

I always said that he could have ridden naked down Oxford Street and got less publicity than he did by growing a f****ing moustache. One man grows moustache. Not a big deal. But it was, obviously, in his case. It represented this sort of gay clone scene at the time, so there was some sort of vibe off that. I mean, it didn’t bother us at all.

What misconceptions do you think people might hold about Freddie?

Well, he had a very shy side and a very forceful side as well. That was it, really. In the studio he was such a worker. That’s where he was completely at home, not shy at all. I never had a cross word with Freddie. He was the glue that kept us together, in a way. It’s difficult to describe. A complex man. In a social situation he might be quite shy, but then he could also enter the room with all the charisma turned up to 10 and take it over, but he’d have to psyche himself up for that.

As he would if he was going onstage?

Absolutely. The same thing, really.

Apparently on tour you and Freddie played a lot of Scrabble. Who was the best?

Fred and I used to love Scrabble. We all played, but it got a bit too serious so the other two would drop out. Freddie was brilliant because he could score more with fewer tiles. I was pretty much his match, I think. Brian got the most points I’ve ever seen with one word, which was 168. Can I remember what the word was? Yes, “Lacquers”. “Q” on the triple, all seven letters, triple word. Work it out. [Q Ed’s note: we’ve tried and failed – over to you, Scrabble nuts.]

When you knew that Freddie was dying was there any question of stopping?

No. He only asked two things. The first was let’s keep working. The other thing was when he was really sick, just come and visit me.

Towards the end Freddie’s home was besieged by the press. That seems normal now but it was quite unusual at the time.

Yeah, his house was surrounded by vultures. They’d even be photographing his groceries as they were brought out of the car. It was horrific, actually.

Did you make your feelings known when you would go and visit him?

I did hit a photographer one night and I think I ran over another one’s foot. All those people, what are you going to say, you know? Just horrible dickheads.

Did you get to say goodbye to him?

Well, one time he was very, very sick. I was about 300 yards up the street on my way to see him when Peter [Freestone], his assistant, rang me and said, “Don’t come, he’s just gone.” That was a real blow, but… yeah, literally 300 yards away on Kensington High Street. [Pause, little smile] Next question.

Sorry.

No, that’s alright.

After the Freddie Mercury tribute concert in 1992 did you think, “Well, what do we now?”

Oh, definitely. There was a very empty period. It was, “What do we do now? Well, let’s give up. Yeah, let’s give up. That was good. That’s done.” Then, of course, after a while you’d feel, “Well, shall we finish that material?” Eventually we summoned up the strength to finish it and I think we made a good job of it [the resulting album was 1995’s Made In Heaven].

Can you understand why some fans think that the whole idea of the Queen musical We Will Rock You, is almost offensive?

Yeah, I do, and they’re welcome to think what they like because I hate musicals. The fact is we did our best to make it an enjoyable experience for those who might like that kind of thing. I make no excuses for it. If you get all purist about things… everybody wants everything to be kept in a jar like it always was and that’s not the way the world works.

Queen’s album sales are often given as being approximately 300 million. Do you have any idea what the actual figure is?

Honestly, I don’t know. Somewhere between two and three hundred, maybe. It’s a lot. [Pause] Great, isn’t it? [Laughs]

(➡️ source: brianmay.com website)

📸 Pic: 1986 - Freddie Mercury posing

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

Helloooo to either of Kane's British boyfriends (I was gonna direct it towards one but I didn't want the other one to feel left out lmao)!!! He made a post pretty recently about picking up on British slang, and I was super curious how you feel about that! How long did it take you to notice? Have you picked up on any American slang from interacting with him?

(i'm not signing off w my username 2day since i'm worried this was a silly question and i'm Scared Of The World :P)

I'm sure McMissile has plenty to say about this as well, but we figured I could at least have this one to myself..

TrueIy, I think it is adorable. And not just adorable as in cute, but really something worth adoring. It is quite flattering as well, really. It didn't take me too long to notice at all when it started getting mixed into his vocabulary, because it's a bit funny to hear things like "flatmate" or "chip bunty" come from an American accent. Or things like how he says "yoghurt" now instead of "yogurt". Or more smaller things, he spent nearly a whole weak saying "parmesean" about a hundred times once he heard me say it, even if it is just the smallest difference! He's been saying "mashed potatoes" lot less for a long while, it's just became "mash" now. He's sort of redone his whole vocabulary, really. He'll say boot and bonnet instead of the trunk or the hood when talking about cars. Although, I am okay not hearing him say "eggplant", what a miserable name for something. Aubergine. He wasn't too happy with me when I told him I was purposely letting him say "scones" 'wrong' for so long. Wrong to how we say it, that is. He also didn't know what a crumpet was, and I didn't know what English Muffins were.

It's almost as I haven't had the opportunity really to pick up on his American slang cause he was so quick to "converting"(as he likes to joke). Which is a little unfortunate, cause I quite like his accent and the different words he says. The few things I have gotten have been from a lot of the media he has me watch with him, since a lot of it is American, of course.

I know he could talk more about it than I could, and Ive already said plenty(I have a lot to say about Kane). He has a whole story that he loves to tell about an Australian man who did nearly the exact same thing he did when they moved to America to where you wouldn't even know they were Australian unless you heard them talking to other Aussies, then their accent would come out. A true story that is, too. It's brilliant to watch him try and talk someone's ear off about this stuff, you could keep him busy for the whole day with it and all the little British and American things he likes to compare and contrast and what he does and doesn't do or have.

-Axlerod💚💙

[lululawrence]

Hi ❤️ I hope you're taking care of yourself!

Id like page 28 from your bookmarks please

hello love! doing the best i can over here; i hope you're taking care of yourself as well!! it's so good seeing you on my dash always but defo sending you love right now too!

more fics from page 28 of my bookmarks include...

Ride the W.A.V.E. by QuickedWeen by @becomeawendybird

Petty officer Louis Tomlinson can't resist a good thing when it's right in front of her.

somewhere in between lightning by jassy117, nauticalleeds, shiningdistractionwrites / @nauticalleeds

As Louis took another bite, he thought back to how he had once believed that the hardest thing about being on Love Island would be Liam handling his social media.   He had been wrong. It was Harry Styles, peeking over at Louis as he forked a pancake into his mouth, and gauging his reaction. It was having to quench the swelling of his heart, which felt simultaneously like hope and the breaking of a thousand pieces.

---

A summer gone wrong (or very right) when, under Liam’s persuasion, Louis finds himself drunkenly applying for Love Island, and getting accepted. Oh, well. A summer spent on an island paradise couldn’t be all that bad, right?

Imagine his surprise when Louis arrives in sunny Majorca to find that his first love and ex-boyfriend, Harry, is another contestant, about to capture the hearts of everyone in the villa. Most normal people don’t have to face their ex on an otherwise straight TV show. Most normal people don’t fall for their ex again in front of the whole nation, either. Too bad this whole situation isn’t normal.

Longing like a Searchlight by Cyantific this fic is locked and therefore requires an AO3 account to read

Louis moves in with his friend Harry and soon thoughts of his new flatmate are anything but innocent, and Louis has no control when it comes to acting on those urges when he's alone. It doesn't take long for his simple, primal impulses to turn into deep, urgent longing the more time they spend together. Will an unexpected family event that takes Harry home for the weekend be the catalyst that finally brings them together or what tears them apart when Louis overhears what Harry reveals to his mother about his true feelings?

Or...

The Five times Louis almost gets caught during a salacious moment of self care and the one time he did...a roommates to lovers fic with lots of feels.

Choose one of my 103 pages of bookmarks in AO3 and I'll give you a random selection of fics from that page!