#wrote this in about five minutes

[jfleamont]

“And in the end

the love you take

is equal to the love you make.”

The Beatles, 'The End'

The sounds coming from the kitchen are her favourite. Shortly after Harry was born, she wondered if she would ever grow accustomed to her baby boy's laughter.

Now, she's sure she'll never grow tired of it.

As she enters the kitchen, her gaze falls on the other boy that occupies her thoughts all day, every day.

“— and there he is, Potter, heading for the hoops and it looks like he's going to score!” as he says this, Harry opens his mouth eagerly and eats the last of his dinner from the spoon his dad is holding. James cheers, and Harry joins him, squealing jumping in his seat.

Lily watches the scene from the door: James is sitting in front of the little boy, who is flailing his arms happily at the sound, and Lily can't help but laugh. At this, James turns to her and he beams. “He wasn't cooperating, so I had to intervene,” he explains.

She walks up to them, gently caressing Harry's head. “James, I'm pretty sure your son was doing it on purpose.”

“He did say 'kiwitch', which, in hindsight, must have meant that he wanted to hear my Quidditch commentary. I'm afraid I've been manipulated.”

“Oh, poor you,” she leans down to kiss James and he reacts immediately, automatically wrapping his hands around her waist to draw her closer.

When she pulls away, James' eyes are still closed, and Lily presses a soft kiss to each eyelid, his lashes tickling her lips. She pulls away and his eyes flutter open, and Lily notices how tired he looks.

Tired, but happy.

She sighs and, after pecking him one last time, she disentangles from him and turns to Harry, who, instead, looks quite awake and excited, smiling at her, green eyes wide and playful.

“Come on, it's late, boys. Party's over,” she announces. It's not actually late, but it has been a long day and she needs rest just as much as her husband.

James gets up and hugs her from behind, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“Hey, happy Halloween,” he whispers against her ear.

“Happy Halloween, love.”

Read it on AO3

[everybodyshusband]

uhhh in My Feels™️ so woe, ansgt be upon ye !!!

disabled rain, angst, hurt/not much comfort, it's just sad and a bit weird and bad i'm sorry ksdfjnsfkdf divider by the icon that is @/wrathofrats

Rain is a jealous ghoul. He’s always known it.

It’s fun, sometimes. Fun to let his packmates play with his jealousies until he just can’t help but snap. Until he’s got one of them over his lap, turned on beyond belief, skin red hot, as they beg for his mercy. As they apologise for daring to belong to anyone but him.

So yes, his jealousy is fun, but he never expected for it to manifest like this.

The first time, he thought he was just overtired. Anger boiling inside of him caused by lack of sleep the previous night rather than jealousy of one of his packmates. After all, this is a stupid thing to be jealous about, and the night before, well… He’d been rather too busy being taken apart inch by painstaking inch by Zephyr to really have had any modicum of decent sleep at all. So again, why was he jealous? Why is he still jealous? What motive did he have to be jealous of the ghoul that was in his bed only the night before?

It wasn’t until Aeon was summoned that he figured it out. Until the sensation of his blood boiling could be tied to more than just an abstract feeling of annoyance bubbling under his skin. With Aeon, he’s never felt his usual jealousy—the quintessence ghoul is in his bed more often than not, so why would he? What he has felt however, has been that awful, sick feeling of hatred every time that new ghoul stumbles. Complains of his ailments. Asks to borrow one of Zephyr’s old canes or pairs of forearm crutches for stability on a particularly bad day.

That’s when it had all clicked together. Aeon. Zephyr. Sometimes even Mountain or Cumulus.

But never Rain.

His jealousy stems from the fact that they get help. They are allowed to be in pain, to be uncomfortable. They have a reason. They have been seen by Omega, by Aether, by the team in the infirmary, and they all have something different about them.

Rain doesn’t.

Rain, with the hyperextended legs that apparently cause him no medical difficulties and yet still stumbles during practice or onstage. Rain, with the perfect iron count whose vision still turns to static when he stands up. Rain, with joints that ache, bones that pop, a head that never quite seems to be able to pay attention as well as the others, but he’s fine. No matter how hard he presses that something is wrong, he’s fine. Nevermind that he’s been Up Top for years, nevermind that he’s done all that he can to treat this on his own. Nevermind that he’s getting worse. He’s fine, at least that’s what Aether had told him the last time he took a trip to the infirmary.

So yes, he’s jealous. He’s jealous of Zephyr’s chair on their bad days and the fact that Aeon feels no shame in asking to borrow mobility aids from ghouls that aren’t using them. He’s jealous that Cumulus only needs to ask Aether for a wrist splint before one is in her lap, being meticulously fastened by the quintessence ghoul himself. He’s tried to reign it in, the intensity of his emotions about this, but no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t. He knows it’s not anyone’s fault, least of all Aeth’s or Meg’s—they’re just doing their jobs, there’s protocol they have to follow—but that knowledge doesn’t stop the jealousy, the aggravation, the hatred of his beloved packmates for simply existing in a way that he’s not allowed to. For getting help in a way that he’s too scared to ask for.

He often thinks that perhaps this is why he’s so angry, so jealous. It’s his own fault he can’t—won’t—ask for help from any of them. He knows he’s allowed to. He knows that Aether and Omega would be more than happy to bend the rules a little to help him out, or that Zephyr wouldn’t mind lending him a (literal) something to lean on when Rain needs it. But he’s scared. Scared that if they can help, he won’t be in pain anymore and he’s been lying this whole time. And scared that if they can’t, that he’s unfixable, untreatable. That this vessel is just another one of God’s mistakes that Satan never bothered to fix. Maybe it is. Maybe there’s no fixing him. No helping him.

He hopes that’s not the case. As much as getting whatever this is fixed scares him, he knows he can’t go on like this forever. His pack knows it too. Zephyr had noticed it first. They’d sat him down one day in their room and had simply waited until it had all come pouring out in a mess of tears and snot and helplessness. Since then, the pack have known what’s been happening and as a collective, they’ve been doing their best to help him. It’s nice, he thinks. For them to be so kind to a being as broken as himself. One day he’ll try his best to repay them all. For now though, he just needs to work up the energy to swing his legs over the edge of his mattress, to muster up the courage to call Aeon and ask for his help, and maybe a cane.

Or maybe he’ll just stay in bed a while longer...

[onward--upward]

wip wednesday!

thanks to my beloveds @eusuntgratie @lemmeaskthedevil and @firenati0n for the tags!

we already know what we're doin here....

tashi pov again! enjoy x

She only slips once, and she pays for it every day for the rest of her goddamn life. How is that fair? How is it fair that Art played an entire season as if he’d shut down 95% of his brain function, and he still finished with a Career Slam? How is it fair that Patrick fucking Zweig has spent an entire decade flaming out with overly-emotional tennis in Challengers across the world and he’s never so much as torn a ligament? Tashi remembers watching a recording of the game he’d played on the day she married Art: he’d been all over the place, shattering his rackets into the ground, back-talking the umpire, smashing one unforced error after another until he was snarling.  He'd been playing emotionally, just like Tashi had been on the worst day of her life, but he was so much worse. Sloppier, more reckless, overflowing with so much angry misery that you could practically taste it on the air around him. If there was anyone who knew what it was like to lose control on the court, it was Patrick Zweig. Honestly, Tashi wasn’t sure he’d ever had control to begin with — just instinct.  So why did she have to be the one to lose her first love?  (Well. Maybe that’s unfair to Patrick. She’s pretty sure that they both lost their first loves that day. The difference, though, is that Patrick always had the ability to win Art back — they fractured, that day, but look at them now. By contrast, Tashi did her very best to win tennis back to her, and it was never enough. And now that Art’s retiring, the closest thing to a reunion that she’s ever had is leaving her, too.)

no pressure tags to some pals! @shitouttabuck @beyourownanchor6 @insecuregodcomplex @eddiebabygirldiaz @okaybutlikemakeitgay

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

cw explicit content (handjobs)

I am once again thinking about DOM PERCY! and going insane.

what do you mean a scene like this doesn’t play on loop in your brain:

Jasons’s eyes squeeze shut, head pressing into the rough brick as he tries to lean out of this touch, out of this pleasure.

“You say you don’t want it Grace,” Perseus smirks, arrogance dancing on the lilt of his words, “Muttering no over and over again. But this…”

And Jason sucks in a breath as Percy presses hard on his crotch. The relief in that hold is enough to make his eyes roll back.

“This is telling me you’re enjoying what I’m doing.”

Percy nips at his ear, licks a delirious path across the curve of his throat and up into his mouth. Jason moans. Curses himself for it.

They can hear people clattering about on the other side of the wall, spilling out at the opposite end of the dark alley.

They’ve been secluded for some time, but there’s the thrill of not knowing if they’re alone.

Percy latched onto it so fast it made Jason’s legs weak. He’d leaned on his friend for support and it had been the end of their innocent facade.

“Fuck Pers,” He groans, bucks into the hand in his pants, pulls his body further up the wall.

Percy’s voice is rough as it slides through him, taunting, unforgiving. “Don’t act like you aren’t enjoying this, little soldier.”

“Someone could see–“

“Isn’t that what you’re hoping for? Someone to stumble upon us and watch you succumbing to me?”

“Hnnghh” Is his elegant reply. He bites his lip, desperate to stop the pleasure spilling into the night air. Into his captor’s ego.

“Look at you getting hard for me,” Pretty stab at his worry. “Leaking into my palm at the idea of getting caught.”

Jason closes his eyes. Can’t bear to face the reality. He’s getting jacked off in an alleyway while his friends celebrate his graduation just behind the wall he writhes against. And he likes it. Fuck.

“Want to cum?”

“Please Pers.” He’s gasping, morality chasing sunsets three time zones from now. “Please.”

Sickening pride fills up his lungs. “Good boy.”

Percy slants his mouth over Jason’s and swallows his pleasure with a grin.

[aro-culture-is]

quick note - this blog is gonna be sparse again for at least this week. trying new medications and tbh initial side effects are not super pleasant + actual effects build up. as a result: currently as if unmedicated for mental health, with anxiety+ side effect, extra fatigue, dizziness, and fatigue. it's uh, sure something.

totally recognize that most of y'all know we're absent at times due to health things, just wanted to give a heads up that this one is at least anticipated.

[nyquilfishtank]

commence the recreational essay writing

[rentfreeinmyskull]

led me to the floor even though i’m not a dancer!! ask me all the questions that your parents wouldn’t answer!! how could i deny a diamond in the rough!! YOU LET ME IN YOUR WORLD UNTIL YOU HAD ENOUGH !!!!! you knew that i wanted you to bend the rules!! how did i believe i had a hold on you???!!!

[monstermoviedean]

i've been dreading this friday afternoon budget meeting all week and telling myself "you just have to get through this and then you're in the clear." and it was predictably miserable until 4 minutes before the end when someone pointed out that we only had 4 minutes left and we hadn't even talked about the thing we needed to talk about. and then we had to schedule another meeting 😭😭😭😭

[icewindandboringhorror]

The evil slow creep of it being like "haha these will just be quick little side quests, not much effort at all!" and then noticing each one is getting progressively longer than the last, thus no longer being minimal effort.. auGh....

[cephalog0d]

I keep accidentally referring to Beast World as Beast Wars (a thing I know exactly nothing about besides the title and it's something to do with Transformers?) and odds are good that's going to continue forever at this point so that's just where we are. Sorry in advance.

[intcritus]

Jaochim.

It's a sleepy, raspy whisper as hands slide over his own from behind, the heat of the fictionologist at his back so early in the morning. When was the last time he'd heard his own name? Just how long had the mantle of Welt been his duty, his core personality. Jaochim had been a different person, probably not as serious and worn down as Welt, but he still existed for those who knew him back then.

Pausing in buttoning his shirt, the former Sovereign shifts in Gallagher's arms, facing him this time and leaning into his chest. Resting his forehead against the others, a tired, but fond smile curves his lips. Jaochim. It's only a name he wants to hear when it's the two of them, standing in the middle of his bedroom.

Part of Welt wants to be selfish with this. For when he thinks of decompressing, when he wants to just be anyone but himself, it's Gallagher he finds himself running to. He'd never understood craving someone, had thought it silly before Gallagher. But absence had made his heart fonder, had made it yearn for the companionship and touch and teasing of someone who knew him better than anyone else.

He likes the way his name rumbles from those lips, the scruff of his beard scratching across Welt's jaw and breath brushing his ear. His heart stutters in his chest and a huff leaves his lips, nose nudging along Gallaghers jaw, " Its too early for the wolf to consider me a snack. Hm, you'll have to rectify that when I'm not running late for the Express...."

raspy whispers and an affection felt across the universe. | @avaere

[mantisgodsdomain]

We should post our Vaugardian Marigold writing for Time Stop Resistance AU at some point but we haven't played enough of the game to be fully confident in publically releasing it especially since one of the things we've written for it involves Odile characterization we are not yet 100% confident in as we haven't fully seen her under pressure yet

[watery-melon-baller]

its so fun :)) and awesome :)) that i cannot fucking make my brain focus on my homework :))) holy shit im gonna kill someone :)) why can't my brain just work for five fucking minutes :)) this is easy homework too I just can't concentrate on it at all :)) and it's due tomorrow morning :)))

[dovahkiining]

He asks me when I fell in love with him, and I'm too much of a coward to say that it was the first time I saw him. Too little, too late, with blood staining his hands and his blood staining mine. Maybe the love could've saved us. Maybe it doomed us. I tell him I realized after I had left. I tell him absence made the heart grow fonder. I don't tell him that it was his sickly-sweet childhood hands holding mine. I don't tell him it was the laugh that haunted me far past the first time I heard it. Maybe the love could have saved us, tangled twins in a town too small and too large. Maybe a world beyond ours exist where it did. Where our teen years aren't filled with ill-hidden repression and growing fights and stark sudden silence. Maybe there's a world where I say goodbye. Maybe there's a world where I mean it. He asks me when I fell in love with him, and I say right now, I say always, I say never, I say I wish I could've. They all taste like lies. There's still his blood on my hands, sticky and sweet and aching.

[ayakashibackstreet]

Finished the Enstars portion, friends <3

[the-sparkling-diamond-satine]

✨

Hiii thank you for the ask!! One ✨ = 1 sentence so I combined 4 of the ✨ you sent and let's call it even haha?

Make me write!!

“Your hair looks so pretty like this,” Satine tells Christian. He’s lying with his head in her lap while they listen to music together, waving his hands about like he’s conducting, a habit of his that makes Satine smile. At first Satine had simply been playing with his hair but then she’d decided to braid it. “It’s been getting so long.”