#confession 1109

[star-trek-fandom-confessions]

#1109

I’ve seen a lot of people make comments about characters we’ve “seen enough/too much of” and here’s my take on it: Kirk didn’t need to be in Generations, Worf didn’t need to be on Deep Space Nine, the Abrams movies didn’t need to be a reboot of TOS, Spock didn’t need to be on Discovery (and Michael didn’t need to have any connection to him), and Picard didn’t need to have his own show when TNG already had 7 seasons and 4 movies.

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort of Normal Part 5

WC:1109 Masterpost CW: Hostage Situation, Off Screen Gun Violence, Blood, Minor Injury

Danny winced as Flash pressed the little wad of gauze against the forehead wound, making the younger hero pout in sympathy. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” It really was. Gashes like that just hurt.

After the villain of the day had been taken out, Flash has basically teleported to Danny’s side wanting to help out. Danny’s kit could easily handle a minor head wound, but they were a pain to try and deal with on one’s own so Danny figured there was no harm in it. Flash had to have experience from patching up plenty of his own wounds. Besides, it let the medics swarming on site now that the hostage situation was over focus on the civilians.

Flash set a fresh piece of gauze against the wound. “So, want to tell me what was going through that busted head of yours when you stood up to armed robbers?”

“It was Captain Cold,” Danny said like that explained everything. At Flash’s frown Danny sighed and explained. “Everyone knows he has a code of honor. Traditionally, Medics are non combatants and should always be allowed to act. I figured my chances were pretty good.”

“They smashed you in the head with a gun.”

“Yeah,” Danny said with a little shrug. He figured he could move now that the gauze was safely secured with two bits of medical tape. “But that was one of Captain Cold’s henches and Cold almost shot him for it. I was fine after.”

“Dude.”

“Dude, she might have died if I didn’t act. Saving her was worth a little bleeding on my part.”

Flash opened his mouth to say something back to that, but snapped it shut as Danny jutted a finger at him.

“And don’t you dare tell me I’m just a civilian or something like that; I’m a field medic.”

Flash held up his hands. He looked a little ridiculous with the nitrile gloves over his super suit. “Wasn’t going to! In fact, I was going to say that you’re really brave.”

“Oh,” Danny said, deflating. He wasn’t used to anyone taking his job and what it meant seriously. Bashfully, he lowered his accusatory finger and hoped he wasn’t blushing. “Um, thank you?”

“You’re really bad at taking a compliment, aren’t you?” Flash asked, grinning at him.

Oh he was definitely blushing now. He ducked his head, rubbing at the back of his neck as he mumbled, “Guess I’m not used to them.”

Danny was saved from any response Flash might have to his confession by a coworker approaching them. Danny recognized the red hair and ignored the flash of melancholy that always came with seeing it.

“So Mr. Fenton, going to behave for me?” Laura asked with a little smile, snapping on fresh gloves as she stepped up to him.

“I think I can manage. Flash has already done a good job patching me up,” he said, letting her tilt his head this way and that. “Gash to the right temp from blunt force trauma with a gun. I’m sure I’ll have quite a bruise, maybe even a black eye. Mild concision—”

“Follow my finger.”

“—no lost of consciousness or memory issues but I have a headache, mild nausea, and a bit of brain fog.”

“Tracking isn’t bad. Repeat after me: penguin, lemon, pillow, bottle, mouse.”

“Penguin, lemon, pillow, bottle, mouse,” Danny repeated dutifully.

“You know the drill?”

He didn’t roll his eyes because he was a professional. (And because it would hurt.) “Yep. Nothing strenuously mentally or physically for a few days. Avoid screens for at least the first twenty-four hours.”

“And no being alone for those twenty-four hours in case it’s worse than mild,” Laura reminded him, a pointed brow raised.

Danny gave an acknowledging hum. He wasn’t going to listen to that advice, but he acknowledged it.

Laura snapped off her gloves, folding them in on themselves with practiced ease. “You did good today, Danny, so try to actually take it easy, alright?”

He gave her a wane smile “I’ll try. If anyone hears anything—”

“Everyone knows to let you know she makes it out of surgery.”

It was bending the rules a little, but sometimes they just needed to know that a person they helped save made it. He was glad they all got this was one of those people for Danny. “Thanks.”

“Rest, I mean it Danny,” Laura said with a purposeful point as she walked away.

Danny turned away from her to find Flash watching him with a little frown. “What?”

“You don’t have anyone to watch you, do you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Danny said as he packed up his little medkit.

“You totally don’t!” Flash said, looking way too pleased at himself for figuring that out.

Danny sighed and swung his bag up onto his shoulder. “Okay, no, I don’t. But Laura is just being overly cautious. I can tell this is mild and I really will rest, no mater what she thinks.”

As Danny started to walk out of the bank, Flash kept pace, walking backwards in front of him. “But it could be worse.”

“But it’s not.”

“But it could be. And what sort of hero would I be if I let the hero of the hour be in danger?”

Ugh, heroes. Was he ever that insufferable?

“Flash, that’s… sweet of you, but you really, really can’t want to be in your suit for twenty-four hours.”

He just shrugged. “Then I won’t. I only need to keep the mask on. I can totally run home and back with a change of clothing in seconds, dude. And it gives me time to let— I mean, grab my phone. And food! I can totally grab food! You’ve been dealing with this for hours, you have to be hungry. Do you like pizza? What am I saying, everyone likes pizza. I’ll grab pizza! I know a great place that does these really cool topping combos, you’ll love it. What do you like?”

Danny found the corner of his mouth ticking up despite himself. “Yeah, Flash, I like pizza. Surprise me.”

“You’re agreeing then?” Flash said, bouncing on his toes before rushing around Danny in a dizzying circle to stand next to him again but now walking the right way. “Awesome! We’ll get you home first and then I’ll get all the other stuff. I’d carry you, but I don’t think your head would like that.”

“No, I really don’t think it would,” Danny agreed. The Speed Force still felt weird as fuck and Danny was okay not spending any more time in it then he needed to. He’d leave the rushing around to the Flashes.

-----

AN: Wally, vibrating: I can so read the cute medic!

What do you all think? Should we see some of the totally not a sleepover? If so... screens are out, so what should those two get up to? (And no, not that.)

I no longer tag people due to the new post editor and having been shadow banned! Instead, you can subscribe to this post here to be notified!

[stepmarchen]

A Stepmother’s Marchen (as we know so far)

An extensive summary of the 2nd timeline, part 1 (pre timeskip):

The 1st Timeline, Part 1 (2nd Timeline), Part 2 (2nd Timeline)

1072: Johannes is born

~ Johannes, Ludovika, Maximillian, Albrecht, and Heidi meet

~ The Imperial war takes place. Alicia, an imperial knight, becomes crippled.

1095: Erwin (Richelieu) is born

~Johannes gifts Ludovika lavender roses

~ The Emperor Maximilian is engaged to Elizabeth but marries Ludovika

~ Johannes confesses to Ludovika. Ludovika challenges his love

~ Johannes marries Alicia

1099: Shuli is born.

1100: Ludovika gives birth to Theobold.

1101: Jeremy and Nora are born

~Ludovika dies. The royal family orders for all lavender roses to be destroyed.

~Emperor Maximilian marries Elizabeth

~ Erwin is baptized and begins his priesthood training

1103: Elias and Ohara are born

1105: Erwin “dies” in a river and is saved by God. He becomes a cleric.

1107: Leon and Rachel are born

~ Alicia dies

~ Theobold blames Nora for breaking Albrecht’s (Nora’s father) prized pipe.

~ Nora’s rebellion begins and he befriends commonfolk

1109: Erwin, now Richelieu, becomes a Vicar

1110: Richelieu discovers the secret passageways of the Vatican and becomes a priest. He takes on Wolffe as his follower.

1111: Richelieu becomes Theobold’s teacher

1113: Johannes marries Shuli

~ Johannes begins training Shuli to be the head of the household

~ Duke Heinrich and Johannes decide to arrange a political marriage between Jeremy and Ohara.

1114: Johaness’ condition worsens. Shuli receives a love letter and a necklace. Johannes discovers this and accuses Shuli of an affair. Johannes attempts to lock away Shuli then collapses.

1115: Johannes dies of pneumonia. Shuli is “reborn” in her second life, losing some of her traumatic memories. The second timeline begins.

~ Shuli becomes head of the household

~ Shuli invites Lucretia and Valentino to the estate. Shuli kicks out Lucretia and Valentino.

Shuli meets Cardinal Richelieu before the Noble Council Meeting

Shuli and Jeremy meet Nora at the marketplace

Shuli and Theobold meet at Johannes’ memorial banquet. Jeremy and Ohara meet.

Theobold confesses to Shuli

Heidi, Nora's mother, enlists Shuli's help to reconcile with her son

Christmas takes place. Shuli gifts Jeremy and Nora swords and Elias receives his crossbow.

The Christmas banquet takes place. Jeremy punches Theobold in the library and gets arrested.

Jeremy confronts Theobold about his feelings for Shuli in his cell

Jeremy’s royal trial takes place. Shuli attempts to divorce Johannes. The empress calls off the trial.

Jeremy swears loyalty to Shuli

~ Shuli begins sleepwalking

See Part 2 for the rest of the timeline.

[feverinfeveroutfic]

The Hungry Lion Throws Itself on the Antelope | Kinktober 2024 | “white russian”

prompt: sweets

pairing: alex/portia

word count: 1109

song: “crush” by cigarettes after sex

happy halloween! 🎃

Portia and I awoke bright and early the very next morning to a clear blue sky over the house. There was a big part of me that couldn’t believe that I was actually leaving that place. I had packed up my things the night before, mere minutes before we had gone to bed for real at that point. She had vowed to bring me back to the valley and the train station in time, and more so when we padded out to the garage to her little car parked in the dry safety of it all.

All the while, I could feel my belly hanging out over the waistband of my jeans. I laughed myself to the thought of explaining my new extra flesh to my mom, and I pictured her putting her hand on me. I pictured her fingers curling around that slight, soft little roll on my belly and then giving me a kiss on the side of my neck.

I could feel my muscles working as I loaded up my bag and my guitar case in the trunk of her little Volkswagen. I hoped that she could have the means of getting out of there lest another band of snow make its way into the state once more: I actually really loved shoveling snow for her. If it meant getting a big round belly while staying there with her, then I would do it. I could be a little chubby with long hair and powerful arms.

But I needed to get back home and get back to life. I knew that she needed to get back to life, especially after the party the night before. We needed to get a move on as the sun was beginning to rise up before us, and I was facing quite the ride back up to Berkeley.

“And what’re you going to do once I’m on the train?” I asked her once we backed out onto the cul-de-sac and rode up the street.

“I’m probably gonna go down to San Diego to go and be with my parents if they don’t call me tonight,” she promised me. “I’m used to spending a lot of time alone, anyway.”

“I’m gonna actually miss this place,” I confessed as we reached the top of the street and began the ride back down the hill. Patches of snow still dotted the barren landscape and the sparse houses all around us, and the sight of the pink, orange, and golden light from the incoming sunrise before us. I wasn’t going to see this again. But I hoped that I would be able to smell Portia’s perfume again, especially once we reached the back road out to the desert again.

I had a feeling, especially once the first rays of sunlight washed over us, and she and I put on our sunglasses in unison. I had a feeling that we were headed somewhere else besides the donut shop down in Hollywood.

I remembered it.

In fact, she had read my mind, and I remembered that we were taking that same way to the pizza parlor. That same way, which brought us to that one bakery—

“Babka,” I muttered right into her ear. She showed me a smile, complete with the rising sun at the side of her head so it made me think of an eclipse.

Indeed, I recognized the kosher bakery in question, which apparently looked to be opening for the morning right at that very moment. The head baker turned the sign and waved at us right as we pulled up to the parking spot in front of the front door. We climbed out and headed into that tender warmth, whereby we were met with the smell of babkas having been baked and ready for the taking.

A chocolate one for me to take back home to my parents. Portia meanwhile took an apple cinnamon one to take with her down to San Diego to her parents.

We also took a rugelach each for ourselves before we thanked him and returned out to the car again.

It was only going to be an hour down to Hollywood and that donut shop, and all the while, I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. They gave me such a roll on my waist, but I couldn’t not treat myself to one of those pink ones.

“A dozen to take home to Mom and Dad,” she told me as she held the pink box under her arm, and I held the door for her. I held my donut in my free hand, and I decided to relish in it on the ride back up to the valley and the train station. We were silent on the ride up through the San Fernando Valley towards the Grapevine when I spoke up again.

“Would you like for me to come back down again when the weather is nicer?”

“Of course!” she declared. “Maybe next time, I can take you down to San Diego and we can be down on the beach together. We can bake on the beach and you can let your little tummy hang out in the open.”

I chuckled at that, and more so when I took another bite of donut. I took it slow with that thing all the way through the canyon and down into the Central Valley.

I had finished it by the time the sun bathed the train station in golden morning light. I had some minutes to spare, but I knew that she had to get going as well. I checked myself in, and Portia saw me aboard the train with my guitar case slung over my shoulder. Once I was on the lower step and showed the conductor my ticket, I sighed through my nose and turned my head for one final look at the station as well as the mountains off in the distance.

A part of me didn’t want to leave.

“Alex!” she called after me, and I turned around for a look over my shoulder at her and her lilac purple hair as it twirled around in the cool breeze all around us.

“Call me when you get home,” she said. I showed her a little smile and flashed her a wink.

“I most certainly will,” I vowed to her. I puckered my lips and blew her one last kiss before I boarded the train. I knew for a fact that I was going to ride on back home to the Bay Area with a soft tender warmth in my belly, and it was all courtesy of her. The hungry lioness who threw herself on the antelope.

[lchufflepuffcorn]

A crown of roots and ice pt.5 A Bran Stark x Reader imagine

Warning: This gif is not mine, it belongs to its owner/creator. Possible triggers: Pregnancy, loss of a child, depression (light mention) angst, motherhood, dark-haired/dark-eyed reader (otherwise not discussed) Female oriented reader (heavily), mention of medieval rape (prior chapters). Birth (not graphic but heavily discussed).

Word count: 1109

Author's note: This fanfiction about Bran the Builder started from an obscure theory that he was also a green seer or linked with whatever Bran Stark we know is...

Masterlist OG Writing Masterlist

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Epilogue.

What is dead may never die

Bran was gone, once more to oversee the finishing of the farther North Wall, leaving (Y\N) with his heir, Brandon -or Brin, as his mother preferred it- and another fast-growing in her belly. Much to the lady’s disappointment. But the wall, Bran had said, ‘the wall needed to be finished so peace would reign and winter perish.’ 

Whatever that meant. 

Lady (Y\N) was sitting outside in the gardens, near the Godswood, with heavy furs on her shoulders and a worried smirk on her face. She was currently mildly listening to Lady Webber while watching her two years old wobble his way toward the whitebarked tree.  At nearly seven and ten years of age and still, the faces carved into the trees were still making her nervous. She knew that her friends would never hurt her child, but she didn’t trust her lord husband's gods to be as protecting. She knew full well that her own God was not the paternal type. 

Swaying gently under the winds, eyes carefully following Brin as he wandered around and ears somewhat listening to her lady friend and her troubles of the week, (Y/N) rests a hand on her forever-growing belly, where a healthy babe is making trouble. Fighting whatever internal adversary it imagines it has. The woman hopes for a girl this time, even if she knows Bran demands another son. 

So to secure his legacy. 

So the Stark family name doesn’t perish if Brin dies too young. The North is not merciful to anyone, her husband once told her. It had been a terrible night when he’d told her, she’d just lost her second babe, it was too early to tell if it had been a little boy or if it’d been a girl, the maester had said. And even if (Y/N) had cried her loss, she was glad -she’d confess to it later, in the cover of her tower’s shadow- Brin was only six months old, and she wasn’t ready for another one yet. Brandon had promised her they’d try to have another one as soon as she felt better. Even now she didn’t know if she felt better. After all, she’d lost a part of herself to that day. 

Her husband had grown even more tender than he’d already been after this event, as if she was made of glass, of something other, precious and breakable. (Y/N) wasn't all too sure she liked it. She was a Saltcliffe’s daughter, far from being easily breakable and fragile. It was still nicer to feel soft touches over rough caress in the nights that followed the incident and survived even after the joyous moment her pregnancy gave. 

“Sit, Nagga!” 

Watching Brin trying to teach the puppy his father had gifted him ‘to protect the castle and your mother’, he’d told him, was a refreshing sight, while in front of the blood-coloured leaves of God’s wood. The boy, to his father's distress, had named his direwolf like the sea monster from (Y/N)’s stories. 

“What will you name it, My Lady?” Asked Lady Webber suddenly, pulling (Y/N) from her thoughts. She rubbed her belly through her heavy dress, thoughtful for a moment before responding. 

“I like Aeron or Walton, for a little boy, and Mirria, for a girl.” She said finally. If Bran allowed it, that thought she didn’t say to lady Webber. 

(Y/N) still hadn’t talked names to her husband, the last time she had, her baby -not much bigger than a shrimp- had died. She couldn’t bare to give her future infant the name of a dead babe, and so, the name of her mother’s father, Mors, she would not use. The lady felt that if she named them, they’d die. And if this was their fate, it was better for Bran to name them. 

She was nearly ready to give birth when Bran came back from the Wall. Since Brin, he didn’t miss any birth, especially not the second one, when it wasn’t even a babe yet. He’d said that a child old of a month without a name was a disgrace on his part. An unnamed child buried would bring infinite bad luck to his family name. Thus, they’d named the shrimp before tossing it into the cave. 

(Y/N)’s Lord Husband would mostly care for her like he would a glass sculpture, making sure no stairs were laborious, of treacherously tripping her (??) or that she had more than enough furs to cover her at any time during any hour of the day. Soft hands graze her figure as Bran walks passed her in the cold halls, sweet kisses on the crown of her head and more food appearing on her plate. All things (Y/N) had to learn to appreciate since she’d given birth. Marriage was so bad after all. 

It was a hot night when Bran when himself in search of the maester. And against every recommendation, Bran was in the room during the birth of his second child. He was the one to place the wet rag over his wife’s forehead and held her hand as she pushed. Kissed her and mumbled encouraging words in her hair when she cried her exhaustion and pleaded for everything to stop. 

It lasted hours. Longer even than it did for Brin. And Bran even probed his wife against his chest, to provide as much help as he could. Murmurs of praise and kind words, comforting hands rubbing her arms at best he could lure her into continuing. 

(Y/N)’s head was hidden in her husband’s neck, whining, empty of any energy she’d had when finally a cry echoed in the room, and she too started crying again. She didn’t even have the strength to raise her arms to take her babe when the maester offered. 

“It’s a boy, my lord,” He said, giving the child to Bran, who took the bundle of furs and soft linen in his free arm, to bring him closer to his wife’s chest. A servant had taken it upon herself to disrobe her, helping to put the child on her chest so he could latch on her breast at last. 

“Jeor” Was all Bran said in her ear. 

“Aeron” counter-offered (Y/N) in a breathless whisper, nuzzling against his cheek while watching her son with tired eyes.  

A sigh left her husband, but the soft touch of his hand removing her hair from her sweat-drenched neck showed he wasn’t annoyed with her stubbornness. “You will call him what you like, but I, and all of this kingdom, will know him as Jeor Stark.” 

‘Very well, my lord.” Was the lady’s answer. 

“Very well, my love.” called the lord back. 

Taglist: @aegonslover

[rhianna]

There were some men whose genius and virtues would have adorned any age. Among these was Gerbert, Pope Sylvester II. (died 1003), whose attainments in science led to the legend that he was in communication with the devil. Lanfranc (1005-89), the monk of Bec and Caen, whom William the Conqueror appointed to the see of Canterbury, is still renowned for his great logical ability and biblical scholarship. Anselm (1033-1109) merited the praise which Dante bestowed upon him as among the worthiest spirits he saw in paradise. Bérenger (998-1088), though discredited 8for heresy, possessed a prowess and independence of mind which made him the forerunner of the later Reformers. Hildebrand (1020(?)-85), however we may reprobate the hardness of his ambition and the tyrannical nature of his projects, must be recognized as among the greatest of mankind for astuteness of judgment and ability to execute the most gigantic and hazardous plans. Abélard (1079-1142) was a lad of sixteen at the time of the first crusade, but had begun to puzzle his teacher, William of Champeaux, in his dialectical tilts, deriding the obsolete method of inquiry, and declaring that it was more sport to debate than to fight in a tournament. Bernard of Clairvaux (1091-1153), whose pen was to control Christendom for a generation, and whose sainthood shines through all ages, was in the nursery when the soldiers of the cross started for the East. There were noble women, too. Bernard owed much of his talent and virtue to his mother, Aletta, whose memory is the imperishable ornament of womanhood. The great Countess Matilda spoke many languages, was chosen counsellor of Pope Gregory VII., and won her place in Dante’s catalogue of saints as the celestial messenger heralding the chariot throne of the glorified Beatrice. The praise of the great crusading captain Godfrey halos his mother, Ida of Bouillon, to whom he confessed that, next to the grace of God, he owed whatever goodness made him beloved of men.

Ch 2

The age of the crusades by James M. Ludlow http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/72852

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 499, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) hit and run pedestrian accident, precipitous labor, neonatal death

WORDS: 1109

I fell asleep easy and hard that night, waking when I had to use the toilet at around two in the morning. I found the kids conked out on thin mattress pads on the floor, the little space heating emitting a soft ray of warmth into the already heated hospital room. Isabelle was curled into a fetal position, her textured hair in a simple braid as she snored softly. Elizabeth and Elle and Katie and Jing were both flanking either sides of the giant bed on the floor, both girls and their lookalike dollies providing the family with a much safety feeling. Little girl and Baby Tommy were both sprawled out under a green knitted blankie, both babies breathing easy as they dreamed sweet baby dreams.

When I came back into the room, I found that Peter had gotten up out of my uncomfortable hospital issued bed as was gazing out from the window.

“Hey there sweetheart,” he greeted me in a gentle rumble. “Looks like the road will be cleaned up in a few hours. Do you want me to pester the nurse staff today and see about getting you discharged?”

“Yes please,” I groaned, joining him by the window, wrapping my arms around him and resting the side of my face into the back of Baby Violet Marie’s legs. “My love, I feel depressed for whatever reason.”

“Do you think that it could be PPD?” she asked me, clearly trying to understand where my sad was coming from.

“I don’t think so, I’ve had this awful feeling that something bad is going to happen soon enough,” I confessed, suddenly feeling silly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked me, turning to face me. I saw that once more, Baby Violet Marie had entangled her fingers into his hair, making a small smile creep up onto my face. It seemed to me that all babies enjoyed the soft texture of our hair under their itty bitty fingers.

“What is there to talk about?” I asked, closing my eyes and smiling as our daughter’s foot continued twitching every so often. “It’s probably just my anxiety acting up again.”

“Sweetheart.”

I knew that tone of voice- he was using his let me care for my woman as how I see fit voice.

“I look at Baby Violet Marie and I can’t help but love her,” I confessed, watching as her little foot stopped twitching. “I see her future and it’s so beautiful, but I can’t help myself but think- what if she gets into a car accident? What if she gets food poisoning? What if she is mowed over by an angry cow? What if she gets kidnapped by a Mexican drug lord? What if, what if, what if…”

“Can you look at me, please sweetheart?” I met his eyes and smiled at how close we both were to one another. “If Baby Violet Marie ever gets into a car accident, our medical insurance will cover her expenses. If she gets mowed over by an angry cow, then I will chase the cow away while you check up on her. If she gets kidnapped by a Mexican drug lord, the law will bring her back home again and arrest the dumb fuck who took our daughter.”

I hummed anxiously as my protective husband reassured me, feeling better as he took to a knee, tugging me to perch on his leg.

“I love you, Peter Thomas Ratajczyk,” I whispered, turning to look out the window at the lazily falling snowflakes. “You are a sweet, kind, loving, compassionate man, and I am blessed to call you my husband.”

“I love you, Mary Claire Ratajczyk,” he murmured softly before pressing a whiskery kiss to my temple. “You are talented actress and singer, and an amazing mother to my kids, and a superb cook in the kitchen, and you keep the house in neat order. I am truly blessed to call you my wife.”

I smiled, tucking myself in deeper to his bare chest, already beginning to be lulled off to sleep by his radiating manly warmth and familiar musky scents of pine trees, campfire smoke and something that screamed PETER THOMAS RATAJCZYK IS A FUCKING MANLY MAN.

“Peter, do you think that we can go home later today?” I asked with a lazy smile on my face. “I really want to snuggle with Mittens and Primrose right now.”

“I don’t see why not,” he answered me in an amused tone. “I know you hate the food here.”

“Hospital food,” I bemoaned dramatically. “Ick. Thank god Evans and Jackie have been coming in with their home cooking to take the place of this joint’s disgusting slop. Speaking of which, how would you feel about me making my infamous KFC knockoff chicken and seasoned fries for dinner tonight?”

“Yummy,” he moaned, peppering my mouth with quick, rapid fire sweet kisses. “Your mommy knows how to make some delicious magic in the kitchen, Baby Violet Marie. Do you think you’ll take more after your mommy, with her witchy ways in the kitchen and sweet siren’s song or will you take more after your butt ugly father, with his massive height and terrifying fangs?”

“My love, your fangs are cosmetic and not genetic!” I reminded him with a scowl, getting a chortle out from him in response.

We both looked down at our daughter with smiles on out faces that morphed into horror at Baby Violet Marie’s empty and unblinking blue eyes.

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@ch3rry-c01a

[western-magical-girl-confessions]

“Does anybody want an actual Winx Club reboot and not the travesty that is season 8?”

[miraculousladybug-confessions]

“I used to think ml fandom was a happy and peacefull place,but now seeing how people "hate Marinnete s character " ,"want more plot?" ,"think Thomas and the whole ml creators are pedophiles" and so on... THIS SHOW IS TARGETED FOR KIDS.And the things you guys are saying are so rude and disrespectful. SO STOP,JUST STOP. Try to enjoy the show.” 

[easy-pete-confessions]

Easy Pete likes his women the way he likes his dynamite.

[barbie-movie-confessions]

1109: "My headcanon is that Princess Hadley (from the 12 Dancing Princesses) is lesbian or bisexual or pansexual"

[newmih]

A bit of liquid courage

Words: 1109

Characters: Minho x reader, mentions of Gally

Request: I would like to imagine about Minho, in Marcus' nightclub, the reader's best friend was Gally but like everyone else she believes him dead. With Minho they ingested Marcus' drink to find Thomas and Brenda and they find themselves half drugged confessing their feelings.

A/N: So... I find myself writing about two people confessing their feelings when it's never happened to me... so I hope it's realistic. /English is not my first language. Sorry for any mistake I made./

Masterlist

Bonne lecture

Y/N looked at the bottle handed to her by a man, looking disgusted. From what she understood, drinking the contents was the only way to get into the building and therefore to find Marcus. But she had very little desire to do so. She didn't even know what was in it and how many mouths before her had touched it. She winced at the thought. Minho, who was at her side, took the gourd and swallowed the contents. He closed his eyes and coughed violently afterwards.

The young woman observed him, wanting less and less to swallow the drink. But she had to do it, she knew. She had to find her friends. It was the only way they would have a chance to start a new life. Even if that chance was tiny, she couldn't afford to let it slip away because she refused to drink something.

Not thinking anymore, she took the bottle in turn. She felt the liquid burn her throat as it passed and tears welled up in her eyes. She thanked herself for not having smelled it before because she knew she would have thrown up directly. The foul taste would stay in her mouth for hours and she hated it. She closed her eyes to try to push through the urge to get it all out and concentrated to save herself a headache. It was nothing. She'd faced grievers before, cranks and escaped the wicked, all without dying. She was stronger than that.

She finally stood up and took Minho, who was still waiting for her, by the arm to join the rest of the group who had already entered. As she passed through the doorway, she heard the man behind them burst out laughing and she knew that this was not a good omen for them. So she tightened her grip on the former runner and continued walking.

The first thing that struck them was the foul odor that emanated from the place. They weren't sure if it was because of the people there or because of what they were eating. But something told them it was probably both. They shared a knowing look and kept moving. How to find the person they were looking for in this crowd when they didn't even know what she looked like, was the question Kyara kept asking herself. Maybe they should split up to cover as much ground as possible. She tugged on the Asian's sleeve and he leaned in to try to hear her. The music was deafening, the volume being so loud that it could be heard from outside.

-I think we should split up! It will be easier to find him!

He nodded and let go of her as she headed to the right and left. She wasn't the tallest or the most imposing so she struggled to make her way through the crowd. Someone jostled her and she fell against a wall. As she looked up, she realized that the room was spinning. Maybe she was supposed to stay on the floor after all. Still, she had no choice, and between getting run over by someone or getting back on her feet, she much preferred the second option.

The noise around her seemed to be getting louder and louder and she couldn't even hear herself think as she made her way through the party, stopping every now and then to ask someone where Marcus was. She still hadn't gotten a straight answer and was seriously losing her patience, especially since she couldn't think straight. What had that drink done to her? Several times in the glade she had drunk Gally's drink and never before had she been in this state after drinking so little. At the thought of Gally, tears welled up in her eyes. She was getting way too emotional for where she was. It was dangerous.

She spotted a chair in a corner and her confused mind asked her to sit down. So, playing with her elbows, she managed to get there and slumped on the piece of furniture which against the weight of the young woman fell to the ground. They were now two to be collapsed. Except that one was physically and the other emotionally. Memories of her life in the labyrinth came back to her without her being able to do anything about it. She felt as if she had no control over herself and that was probably the case. Why else would she be thinking about Minho right now.

She tried to compose herself. She wasn't supposed to think of him that way. She had no right. But she couldn't help it. Despite the fact that he had killed y/n's best friend she couldn't help but love him. She realized how wrong it was, but from the looks of it, you couldn't control your feelings. She wiped away the tears that had rolled down her cheeks without his advice and stood up with the help of the wall. She had to find him and tell him everything, no matter the consequences.

She stumbled a few times, almost fell, but eventually found Minho in the middle of the room. Their eyes met and she felt that what she was about to do was not a good idea but she didn't care. She rushed into the arms of the young man and without even waiting for a reaction from him embraced him as if it was her last day to live. She felt it tense during a few seconds and she was about to move back when he finally returned her kiss. He took her by the hips and brought her closer to him.

They finally broke apart and Kyara, on tiptoe, rested her forehead against the dark-haired man's.

-You don't even know how long I've wanted to do this. -Why did you never do it then?

They were so close to each other that they could hear each other despite the noise that continued around them. Yet they felt as if they were alone. Never in his life would Minho have thought that way, and yet it was so. He promised himself to stop bothering Newt and Thomas about this. He looked at the young woman in his arms and smiled sadly before answering her.

-Because I killed your best friend and there's nothing I can do to change that, ever. And it destroys me to know that the despair I saw in your eyes afterwards was because of me-

She interrupted him with a long kiss.

-Oh Minho, life is too short for that.

Maybe drinking the drink wasn't such a bad idea after all.

[perfectlywrongformend3s]

Nervous Wreck-Louis Partridge

Summary: Dating famous actor Louis Partridge and being scared about the fans disliking you. You almost break up over the drama but Louis convinces you to stay. 

Requested: Yes

Warning: None

Words-1109

A/N- Thank you so much for requesting @arianagrandes-things​. I hope you like your imagine. 

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Your POV

I was spending my time in my apartment when I got really bored all of a sudden. I wanted to call Louis but I knew he was on set filming for the role he got in Enola Holmes. I then just decided to go on Instagram and found I had lots of comments on my recent picture I posted of  Louis and I since I was missing him a lot today. I looked at all the comments and a lot of them were hate comments. I read them and started tearing up because a lot of people were saying how Louis should break up with me because I am not good enough for him. I wanted to throw my phone, but I kept getting more deeper into the comments where I couldn’t stop looking at them. It wasn’t until Louis waved his hand while saying my name that got me to snap out of my daydream. 

“ Hey darling, you okay. What’s wrong? Why are you in tears?” He asked me 

I looked at him and broke down in tears again. I looked down, but felt the couch sink in and arms pull me into his chest. It took me a while to calm down, but I eventually got my breathing back to normal. I felt him lift my chin and made me look at him in the eyes. Before he said anything he kissed me on the lips gently so I wouldn’t break down again. Once he pulled away he asked me the same question.

“ What’s got you so down my darling angel?” 

I took a shaking breath and told him about all the comments on my post. He asked if he could look at them and I nodded while giving him my phone. I laid on him while he was looking. After about 20 mins I felt his eyes on me again, so I lifted my head and waited for him to say something.

“ Don’t listen to them.” 

“ But...” I started

“ But nothing, they're just jealous of you dear. Please don’t let them get to you.” 

I nodded my head and lied back down to give him a hug that I know I needed after the conversation. 

‘Next Day’

I woke up and moved around but fell to the floor with a huge bang. I heard someone start laughing. I looked up and saw Louis staring right at me from the couch. 

“ Haha, very funny.” I mocked 

“ Yea it was. That was so funny. Also thanks for the wake up call.” 

I got up off the floor by myself and headed to change into a different set of clothes to wear. Once I was down I looked around the apartment for my phone, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. 

“ LOUIS!” I shouted 

“ WHAT!” he yelled back

I made my way over to him and asked...

“ Have you seen my phone anywhere?” 

He shrugged his shoulders. I groaned at his response. 

“ Can you call it.” I asked 

He proceeded to call it and I heard the ringing, but I could pinpoint where it was coming from. I then looked right at Louis and heard it coming from underneath him. I looked at him with wide eyes. 

“ Give me it back you idiot.” I said

“ No, can do pumpkin.” He said 

I rolled my eyes and said “ Louis please I need to look at something.” 

“ I know what you're going to look at.” 

I huffed in protest and crossed my arms over my chest and pouted. 

“ You can pout all you want but I am not giving it back so you can cry over mean comments from haters that are just jealous you are.” 

“ But...what if they are saying is true. What if they find a way to make us hate each other and we break up. What if...” 

“ Slow down darling. Nobody will break us up and if they try we will know it’s not true because we have trust and faith for each other.” 

“ But the drama’s already bad, maybe we should break up Louis.” 

He looked at me with sad eyes. “ What?” 

“ I am just saying. What if we take a small break so the fans can be happy.” 

“ Baby, please don’t just dump our 2 years relationship down the drain. We love each other no matter what. Who cares about the drama that’s going on. I don’t want anybody else but you Y/n. You're my number one girl, number one fan. I can’t do this without my partner and crime by my side.” 

I didn’t know what to say after he just confessed why we should stay together. I was a crying mess. Louis was on the verge of crying so I decided to sit in his lap and cuddle him so we both can get the same amount of attention. I kissed the top of his head when I felt him shaking due to the crying he was doing. We spent hours sitting on the couch together. 

“ Baby, I promise to protect you from all the mean people in the world even if I can’t physically hurt them I can pass it though online.” 

I smiled at his thoughts, I then led in and kissed his soft perfect lips and held them there for a while. I felt him smile and pull closer to him by my waist. Louis pulled away first and rested his forehead on mine and said...

“ You are the only girl that I would love and want to keep forever. Don’t let the fans get to you and if they do come find me or just call me. I am always here for you even if I am busy. I am a phone call away dear. I love you with all my heart.” 

When he was done I was again in tears. Louis looked at me and looked worried, 

“ Y/n/n I didn't mean to make you cry, I wanted you to be happy.” 

I smiled and said, “ I am happy.” 

“ Then why are you crying all of a sudden.” He asked concerned

“ These are happy tears.” I stated

He nodded his head and cuddled me and put a movie on so we can spend some quality time with each other. Well he wanted to just hold me and make me feel better from all the social media drama.

[fierysword]

And you, my soul, dead in yourself, run under the wings of Jesus your mother and lament your griefs under his feathers. Ask that your wounds may be healed and that, comforted, you may live again.

Christ, my mother, you gather your chickens under your wings; this dead chicken of yours puts himself under those wings. For by your gentleness the badly frightened are comforted, by your sweet smell the despairing are revived, your warmth gives life to the dead, your touch justifies sinners.

Mother, know again your dead son, both by the sign of your cross and the voice of his confession. Warm your chicken, give life to your dead man, justify your sinner. Let your terrified one be consoled by you; despairing of himself, let him be comforted by you, and in your whole and unceasing grace let him be refashioned by you. For from you flows consolation for sinners; to you the blessing for ages and ages. Amen.

St Anselm of Canterbury, Archbishop from 1093 to 1109

[acanvasofabillionsuns]

please don’t love me back

Summary: Reciprocation is usually the desired outcome of a confession. Usually. Warnings: innuendo and some graphic imagery courtesy of remus, self deprecation Wordcount: 1109

“Hey, Remus?” Virgil calls softly, knocking on his door. He barely taps it, but it creaks open ominously anyway. Perfect. Just what his nerves need.

“Virge-a-lirge-a-ding-dong!” Remus cheers, vanishing what looks like (but almost certainly isn’t) a ball of yarn and jumping down from his ceiling fan. “What brings you here?”

Virgil steps inside and the door slams shut behind him. He thinks about leaving, turning around before it’s too late to back out, but it probably is too late, judging from every self-opening door ever slamming and locking automatically as soon as the protagonists step inside. And anyway, Remus is already chattering away and examining him eagerly, and Virgil has too much social anxiety (and just anxiety in general) to leave in the middle of someone talking.

“Love the outfit change up! Purple’s said to boost creativity and imagination, you know.” Remus does a little shoulder shimmy and winks at him. “So, y’know, if you ever wanna—”

“I wanted to tell you something!” Virgil rushes out before he can finish. Remus doesn’t seem to mind, eyes lighting up with interest.

“Oh? And what could everyone’s favorite emo have to tell me?”

“I...” Virgil bites his lip.

“Cat got your tongue? Ooh, can you imagine? That would be so cool! And then you choke on it, because it’s a cat and you can’t breathe through it. Ooh, or it’s dangling out of your mouth and it’s too heavy so it rips off your tongue and then you can’t talk anymore!” Remus conjures up a picture book and a neon green highlighter and scribbles the idea down on the pages. He snaps it shut and tosses it over his shoulder, ignoring the screech that prompts. “Do you want me to guess what it is? I’ve got so many ideas; I bet I could totally guess what it is!”

“No, I just need to say it,” Virgil tells him, and takes a minute to gather his courage. Just gotta do it, like ripping off a band-aid. He told the light sides his name, he can tell Remus “I’minlovewithyou!”

Remus’s face brightens and he stands up straighter. “Great! I—”

“Please don’t love me back!” 

Remus deflates. “Why not?”

“Because,” Virgil says. “Because I’m one of the light sides now, for one, and—”

“Screw the light sides!” Remus declares. “No, really, I’ll screw them. Would that make you feel better? I’ll totally do it.”

“Please don’t.”

“Alright,” Remus sighs. “But was that it? Because you know the separating sides thing is stupid and doesn’t actually matter and if the lights don’t accept you loving me then they’re not very good people, right? So we can totally get together if you want!”

“That’s... sweet, but not the point.”

“What is the point? A sword? Two swords? A sword fight? Orrrr a sword fight without swords, if you know what I mean?” Remus wiggles his eyebrows furiously.

“No,” Virgil sighs. “The point is that I’m me and you’re,” he gestures to Remus “you, and if we get together it’s only a matter of time before you realize I’m dragging you down and you don’t really love me, so it’s easier if I just tell you and then we ignore it and move on with our lives.”

Remus frowns. “What if I don’t want to ignore it?”

“Too bad; I do,” Virgil tells him, and turns to leave. True to horror movies, the door’s locked. “Remus, open the door!”

“But I’m not done talking to you! It’s rude to leave in the middle of a conversation.”

He’s right and Virgil knows it but he also doesn’t particularly care anymore, embarrassed and defensive and jittery and done with this conversation. “Fine,” he sighs. “Finish what you were saying, and then let me leave so we can put this conversation behind us already and forget it happened.”

“But what if I don’t want to forget it happened?” Remus asks. “What if I think you’re wonderful and super hot and I actually do love you and if we got together you’d only build me up and make me the happiest side ever?”

Virgil eyes him doubtfully. “It can’t be that easy.”

“What if it is, though?” Remus asks. “What if it is and we get together and it goes better than either of us dreamed? What if it isn’t and we get together and burn so bright we shrivel into tiny pieces of ash? Wouldn’t you rather find out than stay stagnant, wondering what would’ve happened if you’d said yes?”

Virgil frowns, hunching his shoulders. “Yes to what?” There hadn’t been a yes or no question asked, had there?

“Me asking you to being my boyfriend.”

“But... you haven’t asked that?” Virgil flips through his memory, and yeah, no; it’d been implied, but never outright asked.

“Will you be my boyfriend?” Remus rectifies that immediately, and now Virgil has to make a choice, darn it. He’s terrible at choices. Especially this one.

Remus waits patiently for about ten seconds before prompting, “You gonna say yes and let yourself be happy, or say no because you’re too scared and let yourself stagnate like an abandoned kiddie pool filled with water that slowly deflates as it’s left outside until it’s infested with mosquitoes and anyone who touches it’ll get some sort of disease?”

“I...” Virgil throws his arms up in a ‘why not’ kind of half shrug. “Sure.”

“Hell yeah!” Remus cheers, punching the air in celebration. His arms stretch upwards until they punch through the ceiling. Remus looks up. “Well, that felt crunchy!”

Virgil stifles a grin. 

Remus starts punching more holes into the ceiling, and he looks—really cute—like he’s having a good time with that, so Virgil will just go back to his room now. Think about what just happened. Maybe scream into a pillow about it.

“I’m gonna...” Virgil jerks his thumb at the door, hoping Remus will get the hint and unlock it.

“Oh!” Remus says, and his arms shrink back down to normal length with a slurping sound. He disappears and pops back into being directly in front of Virgil. “Before you go, I wanted to do this!”

Virgil half-expects him to start making out with him or something, but instead Remus cradles his face gently and softly kisses his forehead.

“I love you too, my deliciously dark emo boyfriend,” Remus murmurs.

Virgil blushes, dark enough that it’s definitely showing through his foundation, and Remus hops back, flipping off the door. It swings open. “Bye, Vee! See you later~”

“Bye, Remus,” Virgil says, smiling fondly at him before beating a hasty retreat.

He’s definitely going to be screaming into a pillow about this.