.i kept making them from here

This is going to be long and emotional so bear with me

I want to thank Mark, Ethan, Tyler, Bob, Wade, and the crew for making the Your Welcome Tour possible. I feel honored to have gone and been a part of the crowd. Everyone was so great and it was just amazing to see.

I’ve been watching @markiplier since the beginning, and it means so much to have seen him and the others throughout this whole journey. Just seeing how far everyone has come has given me just this joy, if that makes sense.

Here’s where the emotional part comes in, and as fruitless as it may be to ask, I really hope one of them reads this. Ya’ll….Ya’ll kept me alive. That may sound overdramatic, but I’m serious. When I moved down to Houston in 2013, I had absolutely everything taken from me, literally. My moving truck was literally stolen in a hotel parking lot in Dallas. All my possessions, all my childhood, gone within the night, to never be seen again. I was devastated. I was already suffering from severe anxiety and clinical depression, and that had just made it worse tenfold. I came to Houston with no friends, no possessions, just the clothes on my back and what little I had brought in a small suitcase. It was really hard–I moved here just before school let out, and I was homeschooled, so I never met anybody until the fall. I was all alone. And I thought about suicide. Mark, your videos were what I literally was living for for a few months there. Every day I’d tell myself that I had to see it through, I had your videos to look forward to. I have so much thanks that it would be impossible to voice them all.

Bob and Wade, I remember seeing you both on Mark’s channel, which is how I was introduced to you guys. Your videos kept me, and still keep me, going, too, and I’m so thankful. Both of you are so wonderful.

Tyler and Ethan, I remember when both of you were first introduced. And I remember thinking just how goddamn awesome you both were.

So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you, thank you all. I’m so honored to have seen the show, I’m so honored to have seen you all in person, to see the people who kept me alive and still are a reason I am alive. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Keep being awesome, guys. And thank you again.

@lordminion @markiplier
The moment I started shipping Klance was when

Ha, this is gonna be a little long.

So I was watching Voltron for the first time and on the third episode, I had paused at this exact frame and I was like,

They gonna Lady-and-the-Tramp that shit.

So I kept on playing and they didn’t (spoiler alert), so I kept on watching and after the alarm had started and it was cut back to the guys I NOTICED

LANCE IS EATING SPAGHETTI

HUNK DIDN’T COOK ANY SPAGHETTI

DO YOU SEE ANYTHING THAT LOOKS CLOSE TO SPAGHETTI HERE???

AND DON’T EVEN TRY ME WITH THAT “Well maybe it was underneath the f–” NO

IF HUNK MADE SPAGHETTI, HE WOULD’VE HAD TO MAKE IT FROM SCRATCH CUZ CORAN SURE AS HECK DIDN’T HAVE THAT SHIT BOILING IN A POT SOMEWHERE FOR HUNK TO FIND AND SERVE TO THEM IMMEDIATELY

THE WHOLE REASON HUNK COOKED FOR THEM IS BECAUSE THEY DIDN’T WANT TO EAT CORAN’S “authentic ancient paladin lunch” WHICH WAS ALL HE MADE FOR ALL OF THEM

So if Hunk didn’t cook spaghetti and they just put that in there just to be funny, they could’ve had Lance slurp an alien-looking spaghetti substitute, BUT NO

THEY WENT WITH THE THIN, BEIGE NOODLES

Also, for those who are gonna be like “Well, what if there’s an Arusian food that looks like spaghetti?” To which I would say, “But you do agree that it looks like spaghetti, right?”

“Yeah…?”

“Then the animators wanted us to think that it’s spaghetti and if you pair that spaghetti slurp with that screenshot, then you’re gonna make the connection that its a reference to THIS SCENE

SO IF KLANCE DOESN’T BECOME CANON AT SOME POINT I’M GOING TO BE MAJORLY DISSAPOINTED AND I JUST AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

anonymous asked:

Are commercially bred fish (such as goldfish and bettas, who have been altered by humans for their pretty tails/colors/patterns) considered domesticated? Wikipedia classed them as such but I'd like a professionals opinion in conjunction with that.

Yes, they’re considered domesticated. Humans have kept them for multiple, multiple generations and selectively bred them to an extent that they are now very different genetically and phenotypically from their wild ancestors.

For example, the Prussian Carp

(Source)

Was eventually turned into multiple varieties of goldfish.

(Examples from here)

That’s the result of a long period of selective breeding. There’s some pretty strange shapes we’ve bred into those fish, several of them making me downright uncomfortable. Some of these fish can’t see in front of their face, they can’t see what they’re eating. They’re pretty, but I wish people would remember these things are alive too.

I was very keen on Bettas in my adolescence. I think the most I had was twelve at one point. I would classify them as domesticated as well, because we took a fish like this:

and bred them into these:

They’re genetically and phenotypically different from the wild type betta. It shows, too. Breeding half-moons and over half-moons is very challenging, especially if you’re using a ‘quality’ male. The volume of finnage they have to drag around is huge, and they breed by wrapping their body around a female and squeezing her. The female is lucky enough to have much shorter fins.

They are very pretty and I like them a lot, these little fish to actually have personality and attitude, but I also feel like going beyond super delta is too far.

The welfare aspects of breeding fish to such extreme shapes s generally overlooked, and will probably remain that was because fish are often viewed more like ornaments than like animals. I hope that changes, but I doubt it will happen very soon.

And I’d like to take a moment to indulge a pet peeve. Someone, somewhere, had the bright idea of taking my favorite species of fish, the beautiful pearl gourami…

… and inbreeding it to the point where we end up with creatures like this…

I mean, WHY did you have to do this? It just saddens me like you wouldn’t believe.

Just because we can do these things, doesn’t always mean we should.

It is your story and we need to respect that.

This is for all those creators, animators, voice actors and everyone involved with the making of a story that is a show, a book, a comic book, a manga and/or a movie (to name a few)…


 Recently, someone took pictures while on a tour in Studio Mir. those pictures belong to DreamWorks and the Voltron Legendary Defender creators. After the poor person, posted them, they went viral within the VLD Community. Soon,they were  being contacted by Studio Mir to take those pictures down, due to legal reasons involving DreamWorks.

And this person did their best. Never in my lifetime have i seen so many people coming together to delete all those pictures from tumblr, twitter instagram etc….

And we got victory.

But of course the victory was short lived.


It started with one person. A person who, claimed they loved the romantic ship of Keith and Lance from Voltron Legendary Defender, and kept on posting those pictures all the while saying to Studio Mir,  ‘I won’t take them down unless you confirm Klance Canon’.

(i.e the ‘ship’ name of Keith and Lance.)

People started to say so many things about this person as in:

“They hate Klance and are making us shippers look bad!”

or: “They aren’t even in the Voltron fandom, they are just here being a troll (aka, nuisance)!”

To be honest, it doesn’t matter who they ship, why they did this or if they even are in the fandom. What matters here most is 1) all the people who have planned out the story of VLD and who are now, getting either, discouraged by how these so called ‘fans’ are acting or are rolling their eyes at us. And 2) The consequences Studio Mir can face due to this once small accident.

And with this one idea from that person ‘blackmailing’ Studio Mir, came copycats. Around thirty other people or so are doing the same. ‘Blackmailing’.  All claiming they just want LGBTQ representation in a very successful show like VLD but not knowing they are jeopardizing the chances of ever getting that in this and possibly many other shows.



Now, onto the show itself.

I fell for Voltron Legendary Defenders because of how it just isn’t a kids show to me. Its very well made, humorous to all ages and all in all one of the best reboots i have seen in awhile (my 32 year old Brother agrees to this too.)

But, again, as someone who too, ships Klance i have never felt more ashamed? 

A lot of people who ship LGBTQ relationships in shows and books that aren’t canon are seen as ‘Fetishizing’ these characters. 

The romantic relationship of two men or two women or all of the above, should never be considered a fetish. Because it is now the real world. Romance is real and for people to fetishize that, is sick and saddening.

I personally, love the dynamic of Klance. But, i also love and adore the dynamic of Klance not being romantic. Them becoming best friends is more than any person in this fandom could ask for. 

To even enter into a romantic relationship, people NEED to become the best of friends first. It’s common sense.



Now, i know the panel for VLD is coming up (?), and whether or not they address this isn’t our business but, what is and will always be our business is how we react. 

Our actions speak louder than words.

If Lauren Montgomery and Joaquim Dos Santos, walk onto that stage and say, “Keith and Lance will never enter into a romantic relationship.” it is OUR jobs to know that this wasn’t because of some person on the internet that this was probably true from the start.

But, if they say, “Any and all romantic relations that will take place in this show in the future have been decided on our own and without the pressure of you lovely people of the fandom. We make things canon on our own terms and love the continuation of support from the fandom.”

Still if Klance becomes canon, that does not mean you go and praise the people who tried to ‘blackmail’ these people. If Keith and Allura get together you don’t go bashing and hating on those people who tried to ‘blackmail’ the creators. You sit and watch the show and learn to love it not for its ships, characters, design but for it as a whole.

I am sure that whatever happens the VLD team will see that, hey, we (as in the fandom) all are very happy with how they are going with the show. They recognize they can’t simply say “Yes gay will happen”  but they also know that if they happened to plan out romance before this whole ‘blackmail’ thing happened that they have the right to.

All in all, for those people who ship all the romance between characters, or even just LOVE the show as  a whole (all fans should at least) it’s our job to:
1: STAY POSITIVE
2: To remember, ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS
And 3: To love the show for what it is.

 

Sincerely, Nina June.

Long Suffering Boyfriend: 101 Bulldogs

It’s often said that nobody other than other veterinarians know what we truly go through. This isn’t helped by the fact that we’re often barred from discussing our work in civilized company and so we often don’t talk about these things, even with our nearest and dearest.

As a recent graduate I had explained to my dear Long Suffering Boyfriend (LSB) that my days at work were busy, hectic and fast. The message he absorbed from these descriptions was that I sometimes didn’t manage to eat lunch until 4pm. So he decided one day that he was going to be Best BoyfriendTM and bring me lunch at the clinic. A gourmet sandwich he’d made himself. He was going to show up right on 1pm and make me stop work for five minutes to eat this delicious food, and make all the other staff members insanely jealous.

At least, that was his cunning plan.

When he walked through the staff entrance into the back of the clinic, he was not greeted with adoration and delight. 

He was greeted by a stern veterinary nurse with all the attitude of an army sergeant.

“Excellent. You! Take this!” she commanded, whisking my future lunch onto the bench and thrusting a towel into my LSB’s hands. Before he knew what was happening, he was dragged into the surgical suite.

“Here honey, catch!” I greeted him, not bothering to question his unexpected appearance and plopping a fresh bulldog puppy into his hands, still coated in amniotic membranes, before I returned to retrieving its siblings from the caesarean in front of me.

He would go on to describe the subsequent events as “Like 101 Dalmatians but with newborn bulldog puppies!”

He was swiftly educated in puppy resuscitation, learning how to rub them to stimulate breathing and how to make a makeshift oxygen crib out of a rectal glove.

The puppies just kept coming and coming. Twelve bulldog puppies revived by my two nurses and LSB. That uterus was more packed than a clown car. Let me tell you there is an art to stimulating four newborn puppies at a time to breathe properly. There were puppies everywhere, on tables and the counter. The sandwich was swiftly moved as more bench space was required.

While everyone was glad to see him, this was not the outcome he had been expecting when he walked into the clinic.

He did, however, refuse to leave the clinic until I’d eaten at least one bite.

I asked him what the one stand out lesson from the experience was. He said that “they’re weird and gross but it’s strange how quickly they go to cute and snuggly fuzzles as soon as they’re dry”. Also that bringing me lunch was appreciated, but pointnless.

I think he enjoyed it, really.

Forever Friendzoned

Pairing: Y/N/Michael

Rating: All

Request: No

Words: 3.500+

Summary: How many blind dates and failures does it take for Y/N to realize that the only guy who will truly love her is her best friend and the completely friendzoned guy Michael?

Keep reading

the fall

Sirius Black knew what stunning felt like. He had been stunned several times by the likes of Lily Evans, Remus Lupin and even James Potter when he didn’t behave as he should. He knew what it felt like ever since he was 9 years old because sometimes he just didn’t know when to shut up. So when Bellatrix’ spell hit him, he felt that familiar tingle all over his body, soon he’d fall to the marble floors of the Department of Mysteries, he would feel the cold of the marble all over his skin and Harry would continue duelling for him, he was as good as James was, he could handle that git Malfoy himself.

When he lost his balance, he heard familiar voices that didn’t belong to anyone in the room with him, calling his name, telling him to be careful. They sounded like.. James? 

Sirius felt his body become weightless as he fell backwards, the last thing he heard was Harry’s piercing scream and Bellatrix’ chanting.

I killed Sirius Black. I killed Sirius Black. I killed Sirius Black.

He was falling like you would fall in your nightmares and wake up suddenly from the pull but this time he didn’t wake up. He kept falling like he threw himself from a tall building, it was like the time stood still but he kept falling. When he finally reached the ground he didn’t crash as he should have but he landed gracefully, which didn’t sound very much like him. Sirius felt hard ground behind his back but it wasn’t cold like the marble would have been. He couldn’t really be dead, could he? Bella liked to exaggerate things and Harry could have screamed about something else. Sirius was almost completely sure Bella hit him with a stunning curse, was he weak enough to die from a stunning curse?

Sirius didn’t dare open his eyes as the reality settled in, he didn’t hear Harry or the others in the room, not Moody’s orders nor Tonks’ rapid duelling, he didn’t hear Remus’ strong curses either. For the first time in his life, or his existence was a better choice of words now, he wanted to hear Bella’s screeching voice.

“Siri?”

Sirius felt like he was shot in the head. His eyes flew open as he heard the familiar voice of his little brother. Regulus was extending a hand for Sirius to take but Sirius ignored it and pushed himself up. Second shot, this time through his heart. James Potter was standing right there, in flesh and blood. Was this his heaven? As he was thinking about what was going on, Sirius saw the taller boy running to him as his wife slowly walked behind him.

James looked the same as Sirius had left him on the floor that October night, his hair perfectly messy and glasses still crooked. Lily glowed the way she did before the war, the beauty of her heart somehow always reached the surface. They were as Sirius had left them and they were not real. How could they be? When had Sirius been that lucky?

James threw himself at Sirius and Sirius felt himself melt because the way James hugged him hadn’t changed in all those years either and Sirius could feel the warmth radiating from him. If this was a dream, how did he feel that? James kept mumbling “I’m sorry” quietly as he held Sirius tighter. He had replayed James’ hugs millions of times in his head when he was locked up, they always made him feel safe and of all the things that could have happened to him, he never expected this. When James finally pulled back, Sirius could see the warm honey eyes of his brother looking back at him glistening with the tears he was trying to hold back.

“I’m sorry,” whispered James once more. “I’m so sorry you had to live like that and it’s all because of us.”

Sirius didn’t know what to say, did it even matter if he was a part of his imagination? He then stared at Lily who had his hand on her mouth as she always did when she was about to cry, he could see her chin trembling as she tried to keep it in.

“You should see this,” she murmured and pulled Sirius by the hand and now Sirius was looking at Harry who was running after an ecstatic Bellatrix for revenge leaving Remus behind. “I don’t know how he will heal after this.”

“He will Lils, he has so much of you in him.”

Sirius had no idea what was going on, if this was real or not but seeing Harry like that was the second most hardest thing he had to endure. He was so broken, almost as broken as his Moony was, Sirius could feel it from wherever he was. He could hear the way is heart shattered into sand sized pieces but he knew, he knew Harry would get better. He knew his godson. In the two short years he got to share with him, he had seen him grow more and more like James with a heart of gold and he was sure, Harry was strong enough to get over him, too. 

Sirius finally looked away from his godson, seeing that Dumbledore was there and he would be alright, he fixed his gaze on James who was standing right next to him.

“Are you real?” asked Sirius, he couldn’t help but touch James’ face and shoulders and all of them a proof that his brother was standing right in front of him after all these years.

“Yes.”

It was Sirius’ time to hold on tight, it could be a lie but he didn’t care, he might be dead but he didn’t give a shit because he had his Prongs back. As stupid as it may sound, Sirius didn’t feel like he was dead, he even felt alive because he had already died on 31st of October fifteen years ago when he had seen James lying on the floor life drained from his eyes. 

“I tried so hard to take him, Lils,” said Sirius as he was staring at Lily Evans’ green eyes and smiling at the thought of how they were the exact same of the boy downstairs. “I never wanted him to be taken to Petunia’s and I’m so–”

Lily hugged Sirius so genuinely, Sirius knew it was her way of telling him that it wasn’t his fault. 

“We should be the ones apologising to you,” said Lily in between her hiccups.

“For what exactly?” challenged Sirius because he really couldn’t see any reason for them to be sorry for. It was all his fault.

“You had to live in Azkaban for twelve years because of us Pads, you lived with those creatures and I watched you, how you lost your senses and your soul–” James began but Sirius raised his hand to shut him up.

“What are you on about?” asked Sirius angrily. “I am the reason you two are– are- are here.” He wouldn’t say the other word, it had been almost fifteen years and Sirius never used that word when it came to James.

“But you were-”

“Nothing makes up for the fact that I was a coward for backing out of being the Secret Keeper,” confessed Sirius as he took a deep breath, he had never said that out loud before. He was a coward and he got his brother and his wife killed because he couldn’t just step up for once. “It should have been me and I should have died for you after all the things you had done for me.”

“I didn’t do those things for you to die for me Pads, I did them because you deserved them. Just like you deserved a happy life, with or without us,” argued James as he pushed his glasses up to rub his eyes softly. James Potter didn’t like crying, Sirius remembered clearly.

“We can play the blame game forever Jamie, just for once in your life, let me take the fall for you because this time, I need to,” begged Sirius. “Also we forget who the real culprit is because we are like that, we never let another take the fall.”

James smiled warmly at him and Sirius tipped his head to the right to look at Regulus who was now hiding behind Lily, there was no point in avoiding him anymore.

“And may I ask what the hell you are doing here, Reggie?” demanded Sirius angrily. Regulus didn’t belong where James and Lily were, he didn’t deserve to be in the same place as them.

All three of them went silent, Lily and James were most possibly communicating telepathically and Regulus was just staring at his pale hands.

“He died so maybe someday someone might defeat Voldemort,” said Lily quietly and Sirius felt his world come crashing down around him, Lily wouldn’t have lied to make him better but how was that possible? The last time he checked Regulus was a Death Eater. He walked straight to Regulus to look into the identical grey eyes as his, it was almost like looking in a mirror.

“You did what?”

“I never planned it to be a suicide mission Siri but it was. He had-– I still can’t say his fucking name.” Regulus steadied his breathing and picked up from where he left off. “Voldemort had tortured Kreacher and left him to die. I just– I couldn’t find you anywhere so I took the matter in my own hands and ended up here.”

Sirius just gaped at his little brother. The boy he had blamed for being a pawn to his mother had died because of the small possibility that someday someone might defeat Voldemort and Sirius just assumed he died miserably.

“I am so proud of you, Reggie.”

Sirius saw the smile on Regulus’ face widen as he smiled back at him but he felt the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“I am sorry because I wasn’t there for you and because I didn’t protect you from them,” apologised Sirius. “I wasn’t a good brother to you because I was busy being a good brother to Jamie. It never occurred to me that I could do both and I am sorry for that.”

“You were what kept me here Siri, you were the reason I never moved on because I wanted you to know that I didn’t disappoint you,” babbled Regulus as he played with the loose strings of his clothes. “I did that to make you proud and to make up for all the things I did.”

“You are not leaving, are you?”

“No, I won’t leave before I see that man defeated,” replied Regulus with disgust in his voice.

Sirius pulled his brother in to bone crushing hug like he did when they were around 10 years old Walburga was having a particularly cruel day, Sirius hadn’t hugged Regulus like that since he was 12 and Merlin, it felt good.

“James?”

Sirius could hear the panic in Lily’s voice, not a lot of people knew that but Sirius knew Lily like the back of his hand, okay maybe his left hand but he did nevertheless. Sirius walked with James and Regulus to where Lily was standing rigidly and he saw Harry was now in the Headmaster’s room. Sirius and James had spent considerable time in that place.

Sirius looked down at his godson, he was wreaking havoc in Dumbledore’s room and yelling at the Headmaster with so much anger that Sirius felt like Harry got his temper from him, Sirius had never been subtle about showing his anger however this was different. Harry was yelling because of him and how he had had enough because apparently Sirius’ absence was the last drop for him and Sirius felt his heart drop to his stomach, he still had his heart after all, albeit not beating.

“Can I, um, see Moony from here?”

One question was all it took and before others could reply, Sirius could see Remus, Merlin knows where, with a good supply of Firewhiskey by his side as he stared into oblivion. Sirius slowly realised he was in the room where he kept Buckbeak, why would he shut himself up in that miserable place? Remus was rocking back and forth, Sirius hadn’t seen him do that since he was thirteen, he did that when he couldn’t handle everything going on around him.

He’s gone, he’s gone again. He’s gone.

It felt like all Sirius did was disappoint. The black sheep of the family, the coward that got James and Lily killed, the useless brother and constantly absent lover. Sirius hadn’t realised up until now that being with James meant that he would be without Remus. He had disappointed the man who loved him yet again, he never could do right by Remus and he had left him alone, again

The One-Night Perfect Relationship | Alex Standall X Reader

English isn’t my first language, so please excuse any mistakes.

Characters: Alex/fem!reader. Clay and Hannah are mentioned.

Warnings: fluffy. Also happy!Alex. And may or may not have some High School Musical songs in the story, but, oh well…

(E/C) stand for “Eye color”/(B/F/N) stand for “Best friend’s name”.

Word Count: 2550 words.

One part of her didn’t want to be there, but the other one, which she decided to listen to, felt that the night could get better somehow. (Y/N) was on the bleachers, considerably alone since she didn’t know anyone who was sitting there, watching people dance with their dates and friends at the dance. They were jumping around, but they seemed to be having fun while doing it, which made her feel like dancing too, but everyone there had a group of friends and she didn’t want to be the weirdo jumping alone.

(Y/N) wanted to dance and her body was starting to send signals that she needed to move. So she began to sway slightly from side to side, trying not to draw attention of anyone on the bleachers. When a familiar song began to play, (Y/N) forgot for a second to try to be discreet and shook her head as she moved her arms up, letting a small smile escape her lips until she realized what she was doing, her eyes widening and bringing her arms back down. Damn the upbeat songs. It was only for a few seconds, but she had already managed to get someone’s attention.

The girl lowered her head, looking down at her own feet. And then she felt that sense of when someone is staring at you. The girl’s (E/C) eyes looked up shyly and started looking for someone who was looking at her, stopping at a boy with bleached blonde hair who was sitting a little distant of her. He had a small grin on his face, he wanted to laugh. This made (Y/N) feel her cheeks heating up as she looked down again, even more embarrassed.

“Nice moves.” she heard a male voice, which obviously came from the boy, talking to her. “Hi.”

“Hi.” she gave a small wave, looking sheepishly at him.

(Y/N) had seen him around school, but she couldn’t remember if she’d ever heard his name.

“Why are you alone here?” he spoke again after a few seconds in silence.

(Y/N) grimaced. “I didn’t even know I was coming here today.” the boy raised an eyebrow at her. “I didn’t plan to come, but my friend bought two tickets and dragged me here.”

He nodded, staring at the rest of the people in the bleachers. "Why isn’t she here with you, then?”

“She brought me because she thought her date wasn’t coming.”

“But he came.” he completed his reasoning on his own. “So she dumped you alone here.”

“Sitting here isn’t so bad.” he gave her a disbelieving glance, but she just laughed. “Why are you here?”

His eyes turned to the dance floor and he pointed to someone she couldn’t define who it was. “I was hoping to dance with her.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Nah, I deserve it.”

Neither of them said anything for a few more seconds, watching people still dancing in their strange way.

“What’s your name?” (Y/N) broke the silence, turning to him.

“Alex.” he gave her a small smile, turning his head toward her. “And you are?”

“(Y/N).” she smiled back at him.

Alex looked at her for a few more seconds before pointing to the empty seat beside her. “Can I…?” he asked for her permission to approach.

“Sure.” (Y/N) smile widened as the boy crawled over to her side.

The dance was supposed to be, well, for dancing, but soon (Y/N)’s urge to dance was decreasing while talking to Alex. On the dance floor they hardly would be able to talkbut there where they were, they could enjoy each other’s company more. They spent more than half of the Winter Formal getting to know each other better, starting a competition of who had the most shameful story to tell and, overall, talked about everything.

"So, I was already in my pajamas and getting ready to watch my shows when I heard a horn outside.” (Y/N) started telling the story of that night, seeming to amuse Alex with it. “And I went to see who it was and (B/F/N) was all ‘Get in loser, we’re going to the dance’.”

“The ‘Mean Girls’ of real life.” he said with a laugh.

"Yeah, I totally am Lindsay Lohan.”

Alex looked at the girl from head to toe before smiling. "You’re not upset about being left by your friend?”

“Not at all.” she shrugged. “I wasn’t joking when I said it wasn’t so bad to be here. I think it’s kind of cool to be able to see this big socialization of confused teenagers from afar.” (Y/N) pointed at them dramatically, then turning to point at the boy next to her. "And a little socialization right here.”

Alex still had a smile on his face as he took the girl’s finger pointing to his face.

"I’ve never noticed you until today, you know.” he said, then frowned. “Did that sound rude?”

“A little bit, yeah.” (Y/N) chuckled as he apologized. “Well, I had noticed you before.”

That seemed to get his attention, his eyebrows arching with curiosity. “Oh, really?”

"I took an interest in you because of your hair.”

“Oh, this.” Alex grimaced as he pointed at his hair.

“It’s like it’s from another world. I always wondered what it would be like to touch it.”

“Be careful there, it’ll take you to another dimension.” he grinned, nudging her.

(Y/N) smiled, looking once more at the dance floor, something catching her eyes. She frowned at the scene she was seeing before she began to laugh. Alex smiled slightly, caught by the girl’s laughter.

"What are you laughing at?”

“They got style.” she answered, motioning two people jumping in a very strange –yet funny- way. (Y/N) managed to recognize the boy as Clay Jensen, but she wasn’t sure of the girl’s name, even though she had already seen and heard about her.

“Your moves are better, though.” (Y/N) laughed at his words, remembering the ridiculous dance that had performed.

“Shut up.” she smiled slightly, listening to a slow song start playing and people start to pair up. “Wanna go out?”

“Hm?” he looked confused.

“The dance is about to end. Want to walk out there a little?”

“Yeah, sure.” Alex stood up and reached out to help her up. What a gentleman.

He was walking ahead and as soon as the girl stood up the urge to dance came back. Then she tried to sway a little as she stepped out of the bleachers. Wrong move. She stumbled and almost fell, catching the attention of a few people who looked at her, laughing.

"What the hell are you looking at?” Alex asked them as he came back to help the girl out.

(Y/N)’s ankles ached slightly making the girl whimper down as she walked. She saw her friend looking at them both with a smirk, causing the girl to roll her eyes and lower her head.

“What the hell was that?” Alex asked as they walked toward the exit from the school.

“I was trying to perform, if you didn’t notice.” she stopped to massage her leg for a second before continuing to walk. “As if it were High School Musical or something.”

Alex’s head turned to her with the mention of the movie, a smile on his face. "So it looks like I got a Disney fan here.”

“Totally, man.” she said before she felt the cold night air hit her face as they reached the outside.

They continued to walk in silence until they were completely off the school grounds and started walking on the sidewalk, where some people passed as well. Alex started to walk slightly faster than (Y/N), staying a little ahead of her before turning to her, making her stop walking too.

“Alex…?” she frowned when she saw him taking a deep breath.

Livin’ in my own world, didn’t understand.” he began to sing. Oh no, he wasn’t doing that. (Y/N)’s mouth opened slightly, not knowing exactly what to do. “That anything can happen, when you take a chance.

(Y/N) was still, not knowing what to do, when Alex looked at her expectantly, making a smile spread on her face, before she cleared her throat. “I never believed in.” the boy smirked at her. “What I couldn’t see, I never opened my heart.”

“Ooh.” he made sure to say it in a very dramatic way, which made (Y/N) laugh.

“To all the possibilities.” she continued to laugh as he approached her. “Uh.”

Alex started to swing toward her as they sang. “I know that something has changed.” (Y/N) mimicked his movements and began to swing too. “Never felt this way.” she was sure that people were looking at them at that moment. “And right here tonight, this could be the start of something new.” after all, it wasn’t so usual to see two teenagers singing loudly in the middle of the street. “It feels so right to be here with you.” they both grinned at each other. “And now looking in your eyes, I feel in my heart the start of something new.”

The boy, with an amused smile, raised one of his hands, motioning for her to hold it. “Now who’d ever thought that.”

(Y/N) copied his smile, raising her hand and intertwining in his as they sang. “We’d both be here tonight.”

“And the world looks so much brighter.” she continued as he lowered their hands and pulled her down the sidewalk. “With you by my side.”

Alex seemed to have found something he was looking for on the sidewalk, letting go of (Y/N)’s hand, and walking quickly to a bench, getting up on it as they continued. "I know…” he turned to her, holding out his hands to help the girl up. “That something has changed.” (Y/N) laughed through her words, shaking her head as she walked quickly to where he was. “Never felt this way.” she accepted his help. “I know it for real, this could be the start of something new.” Alex took careful steps, imitating with his hands the moves she had made earlier that night, making her laugh while doing the same thing, shaking her head from side to side. “It feels so right to be here with you.” (Y/N) felt like jumping, just like people were doing at the Winter Formal, but she knew she would either break the bench or fall from there. “And now looking in your eyes.” Alex slowed his dance moves, looking for the girl’s eyes; (Y/N) did the same. “I feel in my heart …” they smiled at each other. “The start of something new.”

They kept staring at each other for a few more seconds, neither of them daring to break the eye contact, until a car stopped in front of them, honking. (B/F/N). (Y/N) got startled, almost felling off the bench because of it, causing Alex to hold her, holding the girl by her waist.

“Thanks.” she murmured a little sheepishly.

“Hey girl, you want a ride?” (B/F/N) asked.

(Y/N) was about to accept when Alex’s voice caught her attention. “If you want, I can take you home.” a small hopeful glow gleamed in his eyes, and only then she realized that his arm hadn’t left her waist. Not that she was going to complain about it.

“Alex will take me.” she turned again to (B/F/N), who smirked, nodding.

“She better get home alive, Standall.”

“As you wish, ma'am.” the girl laughed at his answer before winking at them and driving away. “She seems to be cooler than Regina George.”

(Y/N) laughed. “Sometimes she is.”

“Come on.” he released his arm from her waist and getting down from the bench, then helping the girl do the same.

Thank God that High School Musical performance hadn’t taken them so far from the school parking lot. (Y/N) had always complained that school was really far from her home, so she had to wake up early if she wanted to be in time for class. But at that moment she couldn’t be more grateful for that, it meant she would have more time to talk to Alex.

In the end, she could see that the part of her that thought that night could have got better had guessed right. She’d met Alex and that had made that night exceptional. They had hit it off, and that night seemed somehow magical. So that could only mean: either that was really the beginning of something new or that had been an one-night perfect relationship. (Y/N) sincerely bet on the second, although she wanted the first one to be right.

An one-night perfect relationship is the one you have, well, for one night. When you aren’t suffocated with your daily problems and the pressures of your friends. You are a diferente person on this one night, more relaxed and even happier. Who would know how things would be between them if they talk to each other every day, or what would it be like in front of their friends? Well, there’s no way of knowing if it’s just a one-night thing or something else until you try it, what really counts is making the night worthwhile.

These thoughts passed over (Y/N) mind as they got out of the car, since Alex had offered to walk with her to the door.

“Well, I’m sure I won’t not notice you from now on.” he said when they reached her door.

"Well, it’s not just your hair that makes me interested in you anymore.” she said, a small smirk on her lips.

He chuckled. “I’m glad.”

They looked at each other for a few more seconds, both thinking practically the same thing. Alex wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted to kiss him. But would not that be wrong? Would not it be too soon? But then again, what if the next day they didn’t feel the same thing they felt at that moment? Don’t think too much, make the night worthwhile. It’s now or never.

Alex quickly leaned toward her, pressing their lips together, placing one of his hands on her waist and the other on the girl’s cheek. (Y/N) wasted no time and soon began kissing him back, moving her lips against his, placing her hands on his neck, but only so she could touch his hair. Alex noticed that and gave a small smile into the kiss, which soon turned into a laugh, making him pull away from her and rest his forehead on hers as he laughed.

“Sorry.” he said still laughing, which made the girl laugh together.

"I really thought for a moment that this was going to take me to another dimension.” it only made him laugh more, being accompanied by her.

The laughter took a while to decrease, until there were only smiles on their faces. “Bye, Gabriella.”

“See you around, Troy.”

Alex gave her a long peck before letting go of her and starting to walk away, a smile still on his face. (Y/N) watched him for a few seconds before opening the door, listening to him honking at her, waving goodbye from inside the car before leaving. The girl closed the door, resting her back on it. Whether it was the beginning of something new or just a one-night thing, it was worth it.


Masterlist

I’m fine, just sore

So I had a slight accident at work earlier this week involving some slick stairs, a feather light box of bandages that I, unfortunately, held onto for dear life, the concrete ground and my dumb ass. It ended with me being driven to the hospital in my own rig and then given the all clear some hours later.

During this time, my asshole coworkers insisted I wear a C-collar, insisted that I let them tape a cold compress to my head, and also insisted that I sit in the back of my own rig.

They laughed at me the entire way, especially when I took the forming goose egg on the back of my head as permission to curse them out. My partner (the asshole) offered to strap an NRB to my face (a nonrebreather – an oxygen mask) and to go light/sirens for me.

I also texted my roommate the situation and included the phrase “It’s okay, it’s not going to concussion” while simultaneously demanding that she feed me Bachelor spoilers.

Also, we all should appreciate nurses more, I love nurses. Because doctors? Are assholes who poke people in the head and make them take out their earrings.

(JK, I love doctors too)

Then to top it all off, my coworker drove me home, basically incoherent from a high dose of percocet with dry mouth from hell, where I apparently kept losing my train of thought mid sentence. To compensate, I’d just stare at my roommate like she’d fill in the blank.

BUT I’m fine and don’t have a concussion and I got the day off work. So I think we all know the real winner here.

(It’s me. I am the winner. Me.)

Baby Logan - Wolverine x Reader

Summary : You have to tell Logan you’re pregnant, and that of course, it’s his. You’re terrified he won’t take it well…

This is part of some sort of a serie, where the reader is afraid to announce their pregnancy. Here’s the one I made for Captain America : Baby Rogers, and the one for Batman : Baby Wayne. Also, slightly NSFW, and sorry if it’s a bit crap, I just have so much trouble writing good things lately ! : 

(My masterlist blog here : https://ella-ravenwood-archives.tumblr.com)

_______________________________________________________________________

It was Storm’s 40th birthday party, and you were probably the only person present, along with Logan, that wasn’t drunk. Logan because his healing factor prevented him from getting drunk too long, and you because….

-You’re not drinking (Y/N) ? 

Ororo. The queen of the party. She was drunk since 4 in the afternoon, and was the most hilarious one ever. She kept trying to make sure everyone was having a good time, and unintentionally buzzing them with a small and weak lightning coming out of her fingers. Right now, she was afraid you weren’t having fun…

-You always drink, why are you not now ? Hahaha are you pregnant ? 

You don’t answer and look away. She stares at you, and it hits her. 

-Wait you are ?! 

-Shut up I didn’t tell Logan yet..

-Oh…OOOOOOOOOOOH !!!!! 

-No really, shut up ‘Ro ! 

-OH MY GODS !! 

-ORORO ! 

She looks at you and, in her drunken state, suddenly understand what you just meant. From the corner of your eyes, you make sure Logan didn’t pay attention to what just happened, but he’s in a conversation with a very drunk Nightcrawler, and seem to have the time of his life listening to your blue friend’s Bible stories…Drunk Bible stories. He didn’t notice anything. Thanks God. Storm comes close to you and whisper : 

-Sorry. You didn’t tell him ? 

-I’ve only known for a day…or two…Ok I’ve known for two month. 

-TWO MONTHS ! 

Keep reading

Raúl Esparza Art Masterlist

Law & Order: SVU

Behind the scenes of SVU

Law & Order

Hannibal

Trouble in the Heights

Custody

Pushing Daisies

Tick, Tick … Boom!

Leap of Faith

Company

Taboo

Arcadia

Cabaret

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

Sunday in the Park with George

Rocky Horror Show

Anyone Can Whistle

Raúl Esparza

Others

My friends, I finally decided to make a masterpost for my Raúl Esparza and Broadway drawings. This post shows my development as an artis, since I came over here from the Fassbender fandom. It contains old and new ones, as well as good and bad. I thought of deleting the bad ones first, but then I realized, that they are also an important part of my journey, so I kept them. Yet there are a few I left out on purpose, but they weren’t important anyway. I hope you find joy in this post and I wanna thank all my friends in the Raúl Esparza fandom, who always support me and are there whenever I need them. I love to draw for each and everyone of you! :-*

PS: Please excuse any typos. I can’t believe I’ve made so many drawings by now!!

Lick Me ‘Til Ice Cream

A/N: God, forgive me, for I have sinned. Literally, don’t read this if you don’t have the intention to go to hell because I’ll be right there with you for writing this. This is my first ever smut so I hope you enjoy it as much as you can. My imagination went somewhere else in order to write this so make sure there’s some water near you, because you’ll need it.

Request:-

Warning(s): Just filth. Pure filth, daddy kink, inappropriate use of ice-cream

Word count: 2,975

Pairing(s): Joker x Reader / Joker x OC (Original Character)

Originally posted by missjanet1983


          She thought that she’d never get tired of being intimate with her boyfriend. That they’d always keep it new and playful in the bedroom. Never once thinking that her lover would one day fail to make her feel like their relationship was something extraordinary, as it was. However, no matter how hard he pounded or how deep he filled her, it never felt more than a quick fuck in her mind. The same old tricks of the trade when she knew he had something more up his sleeve.

The man was the Clown Prince of Crime.

The King of Gotham.

The Joker.

He wasn’t a boring man, nor an uninteresting man. In fact, early on in their relationship, he had used toys. He had used foreplay. He even tried his hand at dirty talking. But low and behold, their sex-life had dwindled away to the point where she had no more excitement left in her. It was like their spark had died out and they now had to settle for… simple sex.

She refused to believe that there was nothing they could try to spice things up. But every time she tried to advance on him, he would just shrug her off and slide into bed. Playing it off with a cold,

“The heist took it out of me. We can do it in the morning.”

He was gone before she woke up every morning.

Come to think of it, she hardly saw him anymore, even if he was in the house with her. He was always either out on a heist or in his office all day trying to plan for the next one. She wasn’t allowed in his secret sanctuary of high security safes with stolen money and top secret files only he had the right to just look at.

She missed him.

She missed her lover with his never-out-of-place vibrant green hair she could spot from a mile away. His wild cackle he calls a “laugh” that he only softened for her. His o-so-kissable bright red lips that he always used to steal her lipstick to paint over. His dark, meaningful tattoos that contrasted so well with his beautiful bleached body. The way he moved, the way he expressed himself that made grown men shake in his presence.

She just wanted him back.

She wanted to kiss her boyfriend.

She wanted to hold her boyfriend.

She feared that she might actually go just as insane as he was if she didn’t find a way to attract him again.

Of course, she had the pleasure of making him feel good and that made her happy. But what kind of girl doesn’t want to show herself off for her man? Who doesn’t want that special attention from the one she loves?

Deciding that it was time to take immediate action, she knew that her plan would go one of two ways. Either it would end up with her being sprawled out on the huge mahogany desk in his private office being “taken care of”, or, end up with her being screamed at for thinking she could enter his untouched room without permission and injure their intimacy further.

“Fuck it,” she thought aloud, “Ride or die type, right? Let’s give him the choice of whether or not he actually wants me to ride or die.”


          Coming home with bags upon bags filled with tubs of ice-cream, she now started to wonder if their freezer was big enough to fit all of them inside.

Subconsciously, she shrugged her shoulders as she literally stopped in the middle of their living area to think about it before continuing to haul the bags to the kitchen.

“Oh, Mister J, you’re gonna love me.” She muttered to herself as she giggled at the thought of her plan.

Beginning to put all of the tubs in the freezer, she heard a door slam and footsteps padding along the floor.

Was that him?

He’s out of the office for once in his abnormal life?

Rushing to where the footsteps could be heard, she spotted his signature fluorescent hair and practically sprinted to the man she had grown to love. He was wearing, as usual, no shirt but she didn’t complain. Who would? The man was practically crafted by the Gods. His tight-fitting trousers hung low on his hips, exposing his prominent V-line which made her mouth water. She enveloped him in a giant bear hug as she jumped and swung her legs around his torso while snuggling her face into his neck.

“Doll, you’re killing me here.” His deep, gravelly voice sounded as he wrapped his arms around the girl that had attached herself to him to ensure she wouldn’t fall.

She loosened her grip, only slightly, and lifted her head up to look him in his blue, icy eyes. Another thing she missed about him.

“You’re out! I feel like I haven’t seen you for 53 years!” Her excitement was bubbling as she had no intention of suppressing it.

“But… You’re only 21.”

“You can shut up.”

“I’m offended.”

“Just kiss me.”

And so he did. Their lips crashed together and moulded perfectly, as if they were missing puzzle pieces and were only made for one another. The smiles both of them had on their faces during that rare moment were ones of pure dedication and trust between two people.

The innocent kiss escalated into something more heated when he pushed her up against the wall, his hands either side of her head and her legs tightening around his abdomen to bring him closer. Hands reached up into his silky hair and tugged gently, making a groan escape from his open lips before he nibbled on her bottom lip and moving to her neck. She kept her eyes closed and focused on the man pressing into her as she felt him sucking on her sensitive skin.

She nearly lost herself in the little bubble they had created around them but she realised she still had a plan to carry out amidst all the sexual tension. She caressed his cheek, pulling him up to meet his gaze and bit her lip.

“As much as I want you to take me right here, right now, I got something planned out especially for you, Daddy.”

Unwrapping her legs, she let him go and instantly felt lost without the pressure of his body pushed against hers. Instinctively following behind her, his vision now clouded over with a sense of lust and want, her boyfriend grabbed her wrist and turned her around. She slammed into his chest with the force he exuberated on her before smirking up at him, gently rubbing their bodies together to create friction.

“Where do you think you’re going, doll face? Daddy isn’t finished with you yet.” The low growl coming from him indicating he needed her now and was not prepared to wait for a stupid plan she thought of.

“Mm, but you’ll like this surprise, J, I can guarantee you. Just be patient with me? Please?” She pecked his lips, hoping he’d understand what she was trying to do and listen to her. “Go back into the office and wait for me. I’ll be there in T-5 minutes.”

She knew talking in “heist-terms”, as she liked to call it, made him excited and that’s exactly what happened since she felt him twitch through his tight trousers. A smile and a wink was sent in his direction while she walked off. Surprised that he didn’t protest when she brought up the subject of her walking into his office, she heard him begrudgingly make his way back into the room he finally came out of and close the door.

Working quickly, she rid herself of her everyday clothing, leaving her in her black lacy undergarments. A shiver ran through her body as the cold air hit her, making goosebumps appear on her smooth skin. Forgetting the cold and remembering she had a man waiting for her, probably feeling very uncomfortable in his pants, she took the ice-cream scoop into her hand and carefully placed two scoops of the vanilla sweetness onto a cone, licking it once because she couldn’t resist.

She put the tub of fresh ice-cream back inside the freezer and walked towards the entrance of the one room in the house she had never been in before. Taking a deep breath, she knocked and cleared her voice, “Mister J?”

“Come in.” The invitation took a while to register with her before slowly turning the gold handle and opening the door.

The room was stunning with a high ceiling and marble floor, a white rug sitting in the middle of it. The walls painted to match the rug, her eyes followed up to the sparkling gold chandelier that illuminated the room. A large vault was situated at the back, behind where her man was sitting, and she assumed he had tidied up as he was expecting her arrival. Her jaw almost dropped to the floor as she examined every detail of the area. She didn’t know when she would be allowed back in so took her time to soak in every ornament and burn it into her memory.

“You having fun there, baby?” His voice broke her trance-like state and she snapped back to reality. She felt a sudden coldness running down her chest and in between her breasts before she looked down and realised the ice-cream she was holding had begun to melt and drip down her, not realising she had titled it at a weird angle when she was inspecting the place.

“Shit.” She cursed before licking at the rim of the cone to try and stop any more from running down. All the while her tongue was working it’s way around the cone, J had leapt up from his sitting position and approached his girlfriend, licking up the valley of her breasts to remove the trail of ice-cream. A gasp emitted from her lips as she felt his warm tongue make its way up her chest and push into her mouth as he enclosed her lips with his, making her taste the sweetness on it. Moaning into the kiss, he lead her to the middle of the room and sat her on top of his desk, as she predicted would be there, and ran his pale hands up and down her sides.

“Was this your surprise? Ice-cream?” He questioned, grinning up at the lingerie-clad woman.

“What, I thought I’d try something new.” Her own smile replicated his as she held the cone in front of his lips and watched him suck the some of the melted liquid off the top.

There was something oddly arousing looking at the most feared criminal in the city in the eyes and see him lick an ice-cream cone and have it drip down his chin.

“You know, doll. The ice-cream’s great and all, but I would much rather have your juice running down my chin.” As soon as those words came out of his mouth, she physically twitched and felt her pussy become even more slick, if that was even possible.

“Well what are ya waiting for? Be my guest.” She unclipped her bra and slid the straps off her arms, asking her boyfriend to hold her cone for her beforehand though because she “didn’t wanna drop it”. He shook his head at her, chuckling and pressing his lips against hers once she took the item of clothing off.

Holding the cone, he absentmindedly swirled the ice-cream around her nipple, erecting it almost instantly. A whimper came from her throat before he pulled away from the kiss and started to suck on her breast, lapping at the sweetness it was covered in.

“J…” She sighed and leant her head back as the man standing in between her legs worked her nipple. Slowly, he trailed down her stomach and pushed her body onto the hard surface, laying her down. She took the ice-cream from his grasp, allowing him to pull down her skimpy panties and expose her glistening mound as he let out a growl by just looking at it.

“Oh, baby girl, how I’ve missed your pretty pussy.” He commented before pulling his hand up and teased her by tracing his finger around her lips and inner thighs.

“Please. Don’t tease me.” She looked down at him and pleaded with her eyes.

“Please, what?”

“Please, Daddy.” She answered quietly.

He shifted his gaze to the cone in her hand and his eyes lit up with mischief and desire. Grabbing said cone, he titled it and waited for it to drip on her clit and run down, causing her body to jolt at the sudden coldness and shiver in pleasure.

After a few drops had melted, he decided it was enough for now and flattened his tongue on her before dragging upwards. The mixture of the ice-cream and her own pussy collected in his mouth and it tasted heavenly. He groaned as he sucked on her bundle of nerves which sent vibrations through her body before she moaned out loud and gripped the side of the desk. Her reaction only spurred him on further as he picked up the pace on his assault and run his tongue down to her hole, pushing inside and felt her tighten around the muscle. Starting to fuck her with his mouth, he brought the ice-cream back around and let it drip onto her clit again, the sweet juice running down on his tongue. Her cries could be heard from next door but neither of them cared.

She felt that she was close to her release now and pulled on his hair, bringing him further into her.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum! Don’t stop!” She begged and arched her back.

Guess what?

He stopped.

“J, I swear to god, I’m gonna fucking kill you.” Her eyes glazed over with lust, anger and desperation as she watched him innocently take a lick from the cone.

“Oh, but, baby, if you kill me, who’s gonna fuck you like you deserve to, huh? Who’s gonna make you cum when you’re a good girl? And who’s gonna punish you when you’re not?” His voice lowered into a sexy whisper as he unzipped his trousers and let them fall down his legs, palming himself through his boxers.

“… I do like it when you make me cum…” Her eyes fixated on his circular motions his hand was moving on his crotch before she reached out and pulled his underwear down for him, stroking his length.

“I know you do, doll, and that’s why you’re gonna be a good girl for Daddy right now and suck his cock.” He demanded, her jumping off the desk and onto her knees in lightening speed.

Her lips made contact with the tip and rubbed the pre-cum over it before allowing the head to be pushed into her mouth and sucked. His head fell back and grabbed her hair into a make-shift ponytail as he groaned. “That’s it, baby. Take more of Daddy’s cock.”

Wasting no time, she obliged and engulfed as much as she could into her warm mouth and swirled her tongue along the underside, beginning to suck hard. She placed her hands on his thighs to keep herself steady as she bobbed her head up and down his shaft, revelling in listening to his sounds of appreciation and tightening his grip on her hair.

She suddenly felt a cold liquid against her lips and looked up. He was rubbing the ice-cream on himself, the kinky bastard. She pulled off with a pop and grinned at him, letting him coat his dick fully. He growled at the sensation of it covering him before she ran her tongue up and down to taste him and hummed on his cock which made his hips buck into her mouth resulting in her gagging. The feeling of her throat closing up on his tip made him go wild and he pulled her off, pushing her back onto his desk and rubbing himself up and down her soaked slit.

“You want this?” He asked with his deep voice and looking her in the eyes. She smirked and grabbed the cone from his hand and licked it.

“Go ahead and fuck me, Daddy.”

He didn’t need to be told twice and slammed himself into her, letting her adjust for a moment as they both cried out in pleasure at the new feeling they hadn’t felt for a long time. Once they were ready, he didn’t hold back in pounding into the tight walls that kept clenching around him, bringing him closer and closer to his orgasm.

“I’m gonna cum, baby girl. You wanna feel it in ya?” He reached down and rubbed circles on her clit with his thumb, matching the rhythm of his thrusts and making her moan so loudly she was pretty sure the whole of Gotham could hear her.

“Yes, please, Daddy, I want your cum. I’m so close.”

He felt her pussy clench one more time around him and it sent him over the edge. Releasing himself inside his girlfriend, he stilled his movements and groaned as he felt her do the same. She screamed and gripped the desk so tightly, she could’ve sworn she broke a bone, her juices running down his cock and onto the desk.

Heavy breathing was the only sound that could be heard and the whole room smelled like sex and sweat the two of them created. They rode out their highs before he pulled out and laid next to her, pulling her close while she wrapped herself around him.

“We might need to get some more ice-cream for next time.” He joked, not knowing she bought gallons of the stuff earlier in the day.


Don’t worry about it, Mister J, I got it covered.”

On the complexity of words in our racialized and colonialized world, and my own liminality...

TW: Discussion of the term “g*psy,” which I know may be a triggering word to some of my American followers in particular. I’ve done my best to tag this. Let me know if I’ve left something out.

So I need to talk about this. I really don’t want to because I feel like I’m going to be attacked for doing so. But this is my life in a super literal way, and I am taking time to process all this, with my cultural background, and my personal history, and my non-belonginess, and all the other super heavy baggage I have, and my society has, with this word and this way of life.

I’ve seen the occasional post on here talking about the culture on Tumblr of sometimes oversimplifying their activism and not understanding the full breadth of certain issues, and I’m kicking myself for it even as I type, but… today I’d like to address the international complexity of the term “gypsy.” Specifically, its use in the UK.

(Oh god, what am I doing sticking my foot in this hornet’s nest…)

All I ask is that you really just read this before you rip my head off, yeah? Please. I need to talk about this.

That word does not mean the same thing here that it means in the US, where I come from.

In America, it’s a pretty negative word to a lot of people of any degree of social consciousness. In America, that word is associated almost exclusively with the Romani people, an extremely marginalized group of POC who’ve been subject to every type of violence in existence, up to and including genocide. It is almost always used as either a slur, or an ignorantly appropriative capitalist tool. They’re the only well-known group of nomadic people Americans are familiar with in relatively modern times (since most nomadic Natives were killed or had their seasonal routes cut off long ago), and naturally, it has therefore remained a very racialized term in America. As a general rule, all nomadic peoples known to Americans are POC who have suffered genocide, sometimes to the point of extinction.

It’s fucking heavy. And that is what my brain still emotionally understands, when I hear that word. I’ve felt, and feel, that ickiness listening to someone use that word carelessly, or as if it were a trendy aesthetic™. This post is hard to write, because I have to use it.

So, Americans, I get this. ‘K? Me too. And Brits, if you’ve ever wondered why this strikes such a chord with Americans, that’s why, and this might be some handy knowledge for you to have when traveling to the US: “gypsy” is not a nice word in the US, and “Traveller” isn’t a term most Americans will recognize. We don’t have any legislation protecting Traveller rights, the way you do (inadequate as they may be). If you want to refer to the Romani, use Romani. If you want to refer to Travellers as a diverse group, use “nomadic people.”

But now I live in the UK. In the UK, “gypsy” is a government-official term, and people refer to themselves and others by this term routinely. And most confusingly, to my American sensibilities, it has little to do with your ethnicity. Even ethnic gypsies are most frequently white British, in the UK (the UK has its own native nomadic populations, especially from Ireland and Scotland). But there are also non-ethnic gypsies. It’s a term that refers more to your mode of living than to your race.

My gypsy neighbors are Irish, English, and Romani. The Irish Travellers and Romani obviously have an ethnic history of nomadism. But the ethnically English do not. He’s a Traveller, legally speaking, and part of larger gypsy society. And here, that is legally and culturally legitimate. He isn’t considered an ethnic minority, the way ethnic Travellers are, but culturally has a home under both terms.

There are other slurs in the UK for Travellers, of course. And there are also people who talk about them in a racist way (*cough* Tories *cough*). If I were to draw a comparison to American linguistics, “gypsy” in the UK is much like “queer” in America. It is simultaneously a neutral and inclusive word, and a word which is often found in the mouth of bigots. It has a complex history that has both highs and lows.

I still prefer to use Traveller, because I’m American and “gypsy” leaves a weird taste in my mouth. But that only works in writing, where it is capitalized. In speech, that term could just as easily mean kids on a gap year, and it isn’t useful for specifying nomadic people. So in speech… the word everyone uses is “gypsy.” This word which gives me the willies is now a normal part of my life. It is hard for me to get used to that. But also, apprehensively positive. What a wonderful community this is. It isn’t any stupid stereotypes. I mean, the dude a couple caravans down from me is a graphic designer. It’s just a really solid community of people who are just… really wonderful.

So… this is a major part of my existence right now. Please remember that Tumblr is an international community. Not everyone you see using that word is a racist throwing out a slur. Some of them aren’t even referring to the Romani. If they’re British, they’re probably more likely to be referring to the Irish, or to people of diverse or unknown ethnic backgrounds.

It may also be something I start talking about more often, because this is now my life. I live on wheels, in a mostly Traveller community. Legally, I’m a “New Traveller” (and the idea of referring to myself that way sends off a degree of appropriative heebjeebies that’s just unbelievable, but that is the fact of the matter). That is, I would be if anyone knew I was here. But the way these things are interacting for me, and how simultaneously uncomfortable and necessary it is to learn about them given my cultural background, means that it is something that is likely to come up. Something I will need to talk about. A consuming part of my life at the moment.

These people have taken me in, in a very real way that pretty much makes me cry when I think about it. They’ve fed me, and kept me warm, and helped me keep this hell shed from tipping over. They’ve gifted me things for my craft – the part of my life this blog is about. I don’t want to avoid talking about them as they talk about themselves, or understanding the way my self-perception is changing as this is happening, for fear I’ll be mistaken for an asshole. It feels like hiding who they proudly are, because the culture I come from has a different history than they do. I don’t live in that culture anymore, and probably never will again. I need to find some way of reconciling the dissonance with the way my life is now.

I don’t think any of this takes away from the complexity of that term. And to all you goddamn Nazis, don’t you dare take this as a reason why it’s ok to fucking harass the Romani, or I swear I will hex the shit out of you. And since the UK tends to follow American trends, I wouldn’t be surprised if that term eventually goes out of vogue.

But today, it is a very different word from its American counterpart, which is essential for me to fully understand in the context of both my own life, and my experience of adopting my new culture as an immigrant. And I want people to understand where I and other people in Britain are coming from when we talk about it. And I feel a need to be understood in my own life right now.

So… This was probably unwise. I’ll take my blows I guess. I’m just reaching into the dark and hoping I’ll find some understanding. This is very much part of what kind of witch I’m becoming, and more broadly, what kind of human I’m becoming.

I HAVE FINISHED ACOWAR. OH MY GOD.

Spoilers. 10/10 recommend. Also there’s a huge spoiler at the end end of the book. *evil cackles* Seriously. Read it. REEEEAD IT. NOW FOR YOUR VIEWING PLEASURE::

- Perhaps when my task here was done, I’d burn this manor to the ground, too. Starting with those roses.

- But it was the vines—the thorns—that had made it unlivable. My old bedroom had been overrun with them. They’d curved and slithered over the walls, entwined themselves amongst the debris. As if they’d crawled off the trellises beneath my windows, as if a hundred years had passed and not months.

- To see Ianthe. And at last decide how I was going to shred her into pieces.

- Healing. Alive and healing. I reminded myself of that every day. Even when I still heard their screams, smelled their blood.

- That was my first step: make Tamlin believe, truly believe, that I loved him and this place, and everyone in it. So that he would not suspect when I turned them on each other.

- Not to demand the whereabouts of the two sets of wings his father had kept as trophies after he’d butchered Rhysand’s mother and sister.

- I let my glow spread, until it, too, rippled from Lucien’s bowed form. A knight before his queen.

- I was the nightmare. Preying on what Tamlin had feared from my very first days here. I had not forgotten that long-ago fight he’d picked with Lucien. The warning he’d given him to stop flirting with me. To stay away. The fear that I’d preferred the red-haired lord over him

- “What have you done,” Lucien breathed, and Tamlin’s face was the picture of devastation as Lucien shoved him aside.

- And if I could have painted that moment, I would have named it A Portrait in Snares and Baiting.

- Alis squeezed my hand. “Blood rubies or no, you will always have one friend in the Summer Court.” My throat bobbed. “And you will always have one in mine,” I promised her. She knew which court I meant. And did not look afraid.

- “I’m going with you,” he said again, face splattered with blood as bright as his hair. “I’m getting my mate back.” There was no time for this argument. For the truth and debate and the answers I saw he desperately wanted. Tamlin and the others would have heard the shouting by now. “Don’t make me regret this,” I told him.

- Cassian had taught me to always have a second escape route. Always.

- “But I think letting his court collapse around him is a better punishment. Certainly longer than an easy death.”

- JESMINDA

- “Tell me about her—about Elain,” Lucien said quietly.

- Closer and closer to the shore, to the awaiting party of sentries that winnowed in out of nowhere. No, no, no—A shadow slammed into the earth before us, cracking the ice toward every horizon. Not a shadow. An Illyrian warrior.

- “There’s no such thing as a High Lady,” one of Lucien’s brothers spat. A faint smile played on my mouth. “There is now.” And it was time for the world to know it.

- And as those violet eyes met mine, as that familiar half smile faded … My face crumpled. A small, broken noise cracked from me. Rhys was instantly moving, but my legs had already given out. The foyer carpet cushioned the impact as I sank to my knees. I covered my face with my hands while the past month crashed into me. Rhys knelt before me, knee to knee.

- Lucien said nothing while Rhys spoke. Or when I continued with my tale, Cassian often chiming in with his own account of how it’d been to live with two mated-yet-un-mated people, to pretend Rhys wasn’t courting me, to welcome me into their little circle.

- “And you love him. And he—he truly does love you.” Lucien dragged a hand through his red hair. “And all these people I have spent my centuries hating, even fearing … They are your family.” “I think Amren would probably deny that she feels any affection for us—” “Amren is a bedtime story they told us as younglings to make us behave. Amren was who would drink my blood and carry me to hell if I acted out of line. And yet there she was, acting more like a cranky old aunt than anything.”

- “I hadn’t realized I was a villain in your narrative,” Lucien breathed.

- “As far as I can recall, Cassian,” Rhys countered drily, “you actually said you needed a reprieve from staring at our ugly faces, and that some ladies would add some much-needed prettiness for you to look at all day.” “Pig,” Amren said.

- “I’ll never forget it, you know,” he said, blowing out a breath. “The moment when he spoke to us all, mind to mind. When I realized what was happening, and that … he’d saved us. Trapped us here and tied our hands, but …”

- “Why should I be scared of an oversized bat who likes to throw temper tantrums?”

- Again, that dry, quiet smile. “Why do you think Illyrians are so fit?” “Why did no one warn me about this cocky side of yours?” Azriel’s mouth twitched upward.

- “Nesta,” the Bone Carver murmured. “Nes-ta.” I squeezed Cassian’s hand. Enough. It was enough of this teasing and taunting. But he didn’t look at me. “How the wind moans her name. Can you hear it, too? Nesta. Nesta. Nesta.” I wasn’t sure Cassian was breathing.

- But Rhys rubbed his jaw, weighing, thinking. Then he said simply, “Only Nesta would not just conquer Death—but pillage it.”

- They outright gasped as Rhys simply perched on the arm of the throne, smirked at me, and said to the Court of Nightmares, “Bow.” For they had not. And with me seated on that throne … Their faces were still a mixture of shock and disdain as they all dropped to their knees.

- Cassian was halfway to Mor when she whirled on Rhys and said, “Why?” Her voice broke. And something in my chest cracked, too, at the tears that began running down her face.

- Cassian casually slid Nesta behind him, his fingers snagging in the skirts of her black gown. As if to reassure himself that she wasn’t in Amren’s direct path. Nesta only rose onto her toes to peer over his shoulder.

- Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

- I caught Cassian glancing at me for the third time in less than a minute and demanded, “What?” His lips twitched at the corners. “You just look so …” “Here we go,” Mor muttered from where she picked at her red-tinted nails against the stair banister.

- “Welcome to the court,” he said to her. “You’re about to have one hell of a first day.” And to my eternal shock, a smile tugged at Nesta’s mouth.

- as Kallias opened his mouth—And then my friend squealed. Squealed. Both females hurtled for each other, and Mor’s squeal had turned to a quiet sob as she flung her arms around the slender stranger and hugged her tight. The female’s own arms were shaking as she gripped Mor.

- VIVIANE IS BADASS

- “She is Fae.” “No shit,” Viviane muttered under her breath, and Mor’s snort was cut off as Kallias raised his brows at them. Helion ignored them.

- “I rescind the blood rubies. Let there be no debts between us.” “Don’t expect Amren to return hers,” Cassian muttered. “She’s grown attached to it.” I could have sworn a smile tugged on Varian’s mouth.

- But Viviane nodded, chin high, and rose. “I will fight with you.” Cresseida stood a heartbeat later. “As will I.” Both of them looked to the males in their court. Tarquin and Kallias rose. Then Helion, smirking at me and Rhys. And finally Thesan—

- I let my gaze dart through the room, half paying attention to Helion’s musing on the wall and how to repair it, then dared study the High Lord for a heartbeat. Look at him. The nose is the same, the smile. The voice. Even Lucien’s skin is darker than his brothers’.

- Nesta was watching me carefully. I admitted to her, “Sometimes … I have problems with small spaces.” “I can’t get into a bathtub anymore. I have to use buckets.” I hadn’t known—hadn’t even thought that bathing, submerging in water…“ Nesta said.
- Nesta stepped forward. Then another step. And another. Until she was in front of Graysen, faster than anyone could see. Until Nesta smacked him hard enough that his head snapped to the side. “You never deserved her,” Nesta snarled into the stunned silence as Graysen cupped his face and swore, bending over. Nesta only looked back at me.

- Run, the Suriel mouthed once more, blood dribbling past its withered lips. That was pain in its eyes. Real pain, as mortal as any creature. And if Ianthe took it alive to Hybern … The Suriel knew it was a possibility. It had begged me for freedom once … yet it was willing to be taken. For me to run. Its milky eyes narrowed—in pain and understanding. Yes, it seemed to say. Go.

- Amren found me within twenty steps, a wrapped bundle in her arms. “Every time you lot leave me at home, someone manages to get gutted.”

- Amren and Varian didn’t even bother to join us. No, she’d just wrapped her legs around his waist, right there in front of us, and he’d stood, lifting her in one swift movement. I wasn’t entirely sure how Varian managed to walk them out of the tent while still kissing her, Amren’s hands dragging through his hair, letting out noises that were unnervingly like purring as they vanished into the camp.

- “I CAN’T love him like that.” “Why?” “Because I prefer females.”

- “What?” she asked, coming to my side. “I was just thinking,” I said, smile growing, “that whenever you’re ready … I was thinking about how much fun I’m going to have playing matchmaker for you.”

- And then Nesta began screaming. Not in pain. But a name. Over and over. “CASSIAN.” Amren reached for her, but Nesta roared, “CASSIAN!” She scrambled to her feet, as if she’d leap into the skies.

- “He named his three personal ships after them,” Drakon said with a smile. And there, sailing at the front … I beheld the names of those ships. The Feyre. The Elain. And leading the charge against Hybern, flying over the waves, unyielding and without an ounce of fear … The Nesta. With my father … our father at the helm.

- The talons came first. Replacing fingers and feet. Then dark scales or perhaps feathers, I couldn’t get a look at them, covered his legs, his arms, his chest. His body contorted, bones and muscles growing and shifting. The beast form Rhys had kept hidden. Never liked to unleash.

- threw herself to her knees before Cassian. “Get up,” she sobbed, hauling at his shoulder. “Get up.” He tried—and failed. “You’re too heavy,” she pleaded, but still tried to raise him, fingers scrabbling in his black, bloodied armor. “I can’t—he’s coming—”

- Nesta didn’t stop him as he leaned up and kissed her—lightly. As much as he could manage. Cassian said softly, brushing away the tear that streaked down her face, “I will find you again in the next world—the next life. And we will have that time. I promise.”

- “Don’t you touch my sister.”

- Rhys’s face was battered—bloody. His hands were still tipped in talons, his canines still elongated. Barely out of that beast form. “You—you freed her—” He was stammering. Shaking. I wasn’t entirely sure how he was even standing.

- It took me a moment to grasp it. What I saw. Rhys was sprawled on the rocky ground, wings draped behind him. He looked like he was sleeping. But as I breathed in—It wasn’t there. That thing that rose and fell with each breath. That echoed each heartbeat. The mating bond. It wasn’t there. It was gone. Because his own chest … it was not moving. And Rhys was dead.

- “Be happy, Feyre.” Tamlin said quietly.

- “Someone fish out dear Amren before she catches a cold.”

- “Hasn’t anyone told you? You’re disgustingly rich.” “Just because I have money doesn’t mean I need to spend it.” He squeezed my knee. “Good. We need someone with a head for money around here. I’ve been bleeding out gold left and right thanks to our Court of Dreams taking advantage of my ridiculous generosity.”

- A gift. All of it.

- There are more tales to be told in the land of Prythian … THE SERIES WILL CONTINUE IN 2018

(HOLY SHIT YESSSSSSS)

Rescue

*shows late to femslash february with starbucks* oops. Oh well, @breeeliss gave us a challenge and here is my try. I hope I did it justice, especially given it is 4 am and I’m about to fall asleep on my keyboard. It is kind of short tho >_<


Look, Alya loved Ladybug, okay? Ladybug was the best superhero in the world and she would physically fight anybody who says otherwise. But even Alya, the crowned queen of ladybug fangirling and appreciation, questioned the superheroine’s rescuing methods sometimes. Because it was the second time when Ladybug locked her in a closed space for her safety. The zoo cage at least didn’t require her to share all her personal space and oxygen with someone. A broom closet? Yeah, not so much. And while Alya could have dealt with it reasonably in any other situation…

(Hey, Ladybug cared enough about her to force her to safety!)

… but being stuck in a broom closet with Chloé Bourgeois out of all people was too much.

“Ugh, I have no space! What is this place?” Chloé exclaimed in a tone full of indignation.

“A broom closet.” deadpanned Alya.

“It is horrible! It is dusty and small and I have to share it with you out of all people! I’ll have a word with my papa about this when we will be out.”

Alya rolled her eyes as silence fell over them. It wasn’t only squeezing, annoying and hard to breathe, but it was also awkward. Oh, boy. They stayed like that for long enough that Alya was surprised Chloé was so silent. Not that she wasn’t appreciating it. They were already sharing way too little space (along with some brooms), the last thing Alya needed was Chloé’s complaints and screaming.

“Well, why aren’t you saying anything?” Chloé inquired.

Alya rolled her eyes. “Why do you care?”

“Because I hate awkwardness, of course. Not that you would know anything about proper social interaction.”

“Listen here you little… ”

They bickered like that for what Alya guessed must have been around ten minutes. She wasn’t too sure, but time always flew by whenever she and Chloé arguest. Damn her, she always knew how to ruffle Alya well enough and raise her temper to the boiling point. Honestly, the argument could have continued for a long time, if a shout that clearly belonged to an akuma. Alya wanted to scream. Seriously? Her eyes adjusted enough to the dark to see Chloé was about to scream. Instinctively, Alya covered her mouth with her hand. The last thing Alya was in the mood for was to become a minion. She hated when that happened. As if to spite her, Chloé covered Alya’s mouth. They kept glaring at each other in the dark until the noise caused by the akuma disappeared. Pulling their hands away from each other’s mouths (as much as the space allowed.

“I can’t believe your lips are so chapped!” Chloé exclaimed.

“Why do you ca… hey, what are you doing?” Alya narrowed her eyes, as Chloé pulled a chapstick out of her… bra? The light from her phone would have been really useful if she could actually reach for her back pocket. “Did you just pull a chapstick out of your bra?”

“What, you don’t use your bra to store things?”

“No? I actually have boobs to fill mine properly.”

Chloé stopped dead in her tracks and Alya could have sworn she saw a hint of a smile. “Touché. Now pucker up those lips.”

Alya sighed. This was by far the weirdest day of her life, she decided as Chloé was applying chapstick to her lips. When she was done, Chloé nodded.

“Nice enough. Moisturize properly. I’d even say ready for kissing, but no one would actually want to kiss you.”

Alya growled. “I’ll let you know I had kissed lots of people.”

“Oh, please, everybody knows quality over quantity. And let’s be real Césaire. Everybody knows I’m the better kisser.”

Alya snorted. “As if! Who did you kiss beside the Ladybug posters? No way in hell you are a better kisser than me.”

“I am!”

“Prove it!”

From the many scenarios Alya pictured for the day, having an intense make out session in a small broom closet with Chloé Bourgeois out of all damn people, was certainly not one of them. Yet, here she was. The kissing was pretty much just like any argument between the two of them went. Heated, intense, each one trying to prove a point to the other. And even though she will never ever admit it out loud Chloé was a pretty damn good kisser. Seeing neither of them was yelding, they could have kept it up for quite a long time. Until the door of the closet opened, making both of them fall in a tangled mess on the floor, on top of one another. Looking up, they noticed a pair of blue eyes surrounded by a red mask, looking at them curiously, obviously awaiting an explanation. Chloé and Alya exchanged a look. What can one do when Ladybug catches you making out with someone you supposedly can’t stand. Especially if both persons in question would rather prefer kissing the superheroine. Well, for once, they were both on the same page.

“It’s not what it looks like!”

I’m on warrior mode. 

Still working on my exam to get into medical school in Italy, I’ve been getting great scores on the online simulator and the admission test is in 16 days but why being prepared when you can be well-prepared

This is my last shot, I’m risking a lot by putting aside ALL my french classes to work on this. This year I grew up a lot, living far away from home and asking myself so many questions about who I am and what I should do with my life (it’s part of the process of growing up I guess) and among all the things I learned one very important lesson : when you set a goal you have to stick to it and make some very hard decisions sometimes. It wasn’t easy for me to decide to give up on my french classes: I knew that if I kept working on them I would had to lose another year for sure before getting into medical school here (the process is MUCH MORE complicated than this) and even by doing so I didn’t even know if I was going to make it. The only way to start my medical studies next year was to get into medical school in Italy. I had to give up on many many dreams and expectations I had about my future, but now I feel I made the right decision. I’m very close to get it (not yet guys! but close) and now I don’t care about anything else: this is my goal, my life, and I won’t let anyone come in my way. 

It’s been two months since I’m on warrior mode, and seeing the results coming is so fu**ing satisfying.

I will win.

So I’ve decided to go through my old art I made a few years ago, touch up the photos and start posting them to my page here. We’ll start off with one of my favorites, and the best paintings I’ve done, “The Smell of Pitch”. It’s a triptych of the same image of one of the best characters from my favorite franchises, Joshua Graham from Fallout: New Vegas. I sorta went wild with the color scheme and kept the background solid black to make everything more vibrant, and I still love how they came out, got em’ hanging on my bedroom wall right now. Hope Fallout fans get a kick out of this, look forward to more of my archived art in the near future(spoiler alert, it starts going downhill fast).

-Tycho

Sleeping Arrangements (2/3)

I’m a meanie butt, but after 12,00 words I had to conceded and admit that the last part needed its own chapter. My conciliation: I actually swear it will be up as fast as possible after the 30th. (I do have to write my CSBB)

Read Part One Here

When Killian Jones is six, he’s sharing a bed with the increasingly wide berth of his mother and all too happy to share it. He’s gathered they’re poor (vicious kids on the street, kicks from discerning shop owners, the way Liam sometimes knicks bread for them to eat) but his mother always smells of lavender and hums him to sleep. Her hands are still soft and everything about her touch speaks of love: the way she cards her fingers through his hair when he’s had a nightmare, the way she lets him clutch at his fingers when they’re at the market, even the way he used to snuggle into her neck before her body became unwieldy with the carriage of his sister.

Keep reading

Complicated / Bother!Reggie & Jughead

Prompt: Ooh can i request one where the reader has liked jughead for a while and she’s reggie’s sister and bc of him she can’t talk to him but one day betty tells her that jughead likes her and go from there? Idk if you wanna do it, but if you do, please tag me!

A/N: Here it is, hope you will like it even if it isn’t really great. I wrote this very quickly.
English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry if there are any mistakes.

Originally posted by marorra

You were in the student lounge, rolling your eyes at any stupid jokes your brother Reggie and his friends were making when suddenly Archie and his gang entered into the room. No one of the football players focused on them but you kept staring at the tall raven-haired boy with the grey beanie, Jughead. If it was possible, he looked even more beautiful than usual. You have had a crush on him for as long as you could remember but you couldn’t even talk to him cause of your brother who hated him for no reason. Despite it, you were great friend with Betty and she didn’t know you liked Jughead cause then she would probably tell him.
-Hey Suicide Squad!- Reggie started laughing with the others for the nickname while you glared at him. You were really tired of his provocations, but Jughead just glared at him.
-Y/N, are you okay?- one of them asked loudly. Now all the people in the room were looking at you, included him.
-Yeah, I’m fine.- you just walked out of the room as soon as you could, not wanting to stay there a minute more.

-I hate biology.- you moaned while Betty was repeating you the same passage for the third time.
-You can do it.- she said. -You just need to focus.-
-No, I need to stop because if I keep studying I will scream.-
-Okay, five minutes.- she laughed softly. You two have studied for two hours now and you couldn’t concentrate on it anymore, even if tomorrow it would be the test and you didn’t know anything.
-How is going with Archie?- you asked from nowhere to break the silence.
-Oh pretty good, we’re friends again.- Her voice was a little sad on her last sentence but you decided not to investigate. -And what about you?-
-What do you mean?-
-Is there any special guy in your life?- she smirked. -Despite your brother, of course.-
-Oh, not at all.- you blushed, thinking about Jughead even if you weren’t together.
-Oh, please! I want tell anyone.- she pleased me with a puppy face.
-Okay fine but you promised.- You sighted and then smiled before saying it: -I like… Jughead. But you can’t tell the others, especially Reggie because he won’t let me date him… and of course Jughead cause I know he doesn’t like me in that way. We barely speak to each other.-
For all the time Betty had a shocked expression on her face and you were a little scared that maybe she liked Jughead too. But then she smiled and you relaxed a little.
-Y/N, this is fantastic!-
-Which part? The one where my brother hate him or the one where he doesn’t know me?-
-Definitely the one where you like him, because he likes you too!- she yelled happily. You kept looking at her to see if she was lying. You just couldn’t believe that your biggest crush liked you back.
-Tell me you’re not joking.- you whispered.
-I’m not, really. He always talks about you and how he just can’t talk to you cause of Reggie. Today he was really pissed when you left: he were there just because he knew you would be there too!-
Your heart start beating faster and you couldn’t help but smile back. Jughead liked you. But then you thought about Reggie and how disappointed he would be.
-It’s complicated.-
-Y/N,- she took one of my hand -you can’t let Reggie decide for you. You could be happy together, so please do what you want to do and not what people pretend you to.- she smiled sweetly.
-I will.-

The next day you were determined to approach Jughead, even if you would go against your big, overprotective and narcissistic brother. You were at your locker and when you saw him with Archie you couldn’t help but stare. And then you started thinking that maybe he didn’t really like you in that way and he would say no to you.
You saw Veronica with Betty who was looking at you with a cheering smile and you felt a little better, so you started walking to him and the ginger-haired boy.
-Hi.- you greeted them while they looked at you with a confused expressions. You have never really spoken to them before if it wasn’t for school stuff. -May I talk with Jughead? Alone…-
Archie tried to hide his smirk. He nodded at me before leaving and walking to the girls.
-Y/N, right?- he asked blushing a little, fixing his adorable beanie.
-Yeah,- you answered a little downcast -I, ehm, I was wondering if you wanted to…-
-Y/N, what are you doing with that creepy vampire?- You heard the voice of your brother down the hallway and your little smile died. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder in a protective way. You rolled your eyes at his gesture.
-Something I should have done before.- you said feeling a little braver and determined.
-What do you mean?- he asked confused. Jughead for all the time hasn’t told a word.
-Jughead, I know we don’t really know each other but I like you and I did it for a long time, so I was wondering if…?-
-Y/N, stop.- Reggie tried to say, but you didn’t care anymore.
-… if you wanted to go on a date with me?- you smiled softly at him. You waited for a reply but he didn’t say anything, just stood there with a shocked face.
-So?- you turned your head to face Reggie, who was looking at Jughead with furious eyes. -Are you going to answer or do I have to punch you?-
-I’d really love to.- Jughead whispered, staring at my big brother.
-Then, I think you should tell her instead of me.-
Jughead turned his face to me and blushed, then he added: -I’ve liked you for as long as I couldn’t remember too and I’d like to go on a date with you.- He smiled at you. Then he spoke again, this time a little scared: -But Reggie won’t be there.-
You laughed at his last sentence.
-Promise.-
Fanfiction - A Lifetime of Her (Part V)

Part V – “But we’re still sleeping like we’re lovers”

Twenty-six

I stood there, transfixed by the overwhelming feeling of her in my arms, unbelievingly real against the paleness of my tired memories. I didn’t know what had happened to her – clearly something had happened – but was only glad I had found her, right in the moment when my arms seemed to be so needed to hold her.

“Will ye tell me?” I murmured against her hair – fragrant like a freshly squeezed lemon, like a garden after pouring rain -, my hands rubbing her back in soothing circles. “What happened?”

“I will.” She tilted her chin, allowing our eyes to meet – hers were dry but glassy, as if her body was wrecked with fever. “I want to tell you.”

“Good.” I attempted a calming smile, but felt the muscles of my face stiff from concern. “Do ye want to sit down?”

“We can’t talk here.” Claire told me, finally stepping back, away from the comfort of my body – I felt the loss of her warmth as acutely as I would miss a limb. Phantom pain, permanent and excruciating, constructed by the mind to deal with unbearable loss. “This is Geillis place – she is a close friend – and she’ll be arriving shortly from work. I thought she had forgotten her keys when you knocked.”

“Ye can come to my house.” I offered, almost biting my tongue in eagerness. The image of Claire in my home - the tips of her fingers brushing the book spines in the shelf, her lips drinking from one of my glasses - a kiss shared through the marks we’d both leave there – made my heart swell to the point of bursting. “I mean, we can have a conversation there without being disturbed or interrupted.” I babbled, struggling to explain myself over a bout of flushing cheeks.

“Alright.” She nodded in agreement – trusting me implicitly. Naturally. “Let me just feed Adso and grab my coat.” The feline meowed in agreement and rubbed against Claire’s legs, sleek and charming, as if he had been waiting to be acknowledged.

We made our way through the pleasant streets of Edinburgh, headed towards my house, located just a few blocks away. We traded some words, but were mostly immersed in our thoughts – preparing what we would say and do, when we finally could expose ourselves in a safe haven. As we walked, we didn’t touch – not even our arms bumped into each other, in that casual way of shared movement. We were both consciously avoiding to touch, keeping a safe distance, even if acutely aware of each other.

“It isna a big house.” I apologized in a jumbled way as we entered my apartment, collecting unmatched socks and forgotten papers along the way.

“I love it!” Claire smiled in a reassuring way, admiring the big flat screen and black speakers. Her butterscotch eyes covered my pictures and books, the quilt thrown over the back of the sofa, the magazines and pamphlets I had sorted inside a little basket next to the bookcase. “I can tell you live here – it’s warm and alive. It’s a real home.”

I grinned in content – almost purring in satisfaction -, as she took off her coat. She wandered around, touching objects with a respectful hand and clicking her tongue in appreciation of my book collection. Eventually she talked again, her back turned to me.

“Where is your bedroom?” She asked in a rough voice, unhinged – and then, predicting my puzzlement, she added in a low and hesitant tone, as if talking to herself. “I haven’t been sleeping much – I didn’t want to close my eyes and let my mind roam freely. I can barely stand on my feet, to be honest. Besides,” Claire turned and glanced at me, fumbling again with her sleeves. “I think it would be easier to talk if we touched.”

“Aye.” I breathed deeply, walking towards my room. “Whatever ye need.”

I watched as she laid down on my bed, above the plaid that meant home to me – taking off her boots and socks in the process. Her movements were slow and calculated, as if she wished to cause minimal impact with her presence, so that I would carry on with my life after her departure. Claire rolled to her side, curled like an unborn child, safe and peaceful in the womb.

I came around the bed and managed to lay down – silent and precise as a thief in the night -, leaving an empty space between us, as I faced her. She seemed tired beyond her years and utterly broken.

Without a word she slid her hand to the middle of the bed, where I could reach out and touch it – I did so, softly playing with her fingers until she relaxed and our hands were entwined.

“Why are ye here?” I asked, my voice husky. Her face was a duality of shadows and bursts of light, coming from the window to dance on her features. “In Scotland?”

“I had to come.” Claire adjusted her face on the pillow, caressing the nail of my thumb with her fingers, her golden wedding ring cold like a fetch between us. “I couldn’t be in Boston right now – I needed time to think. This is the one place that has been home to me.”

“Are ye still married?” I risked, watching in anguish as she winced in pain. She sighed – but the movements of my hand in hers seemed to calm her enough to go on.

“Separated.” She licked her quivering bottom lip, avoiding my eyes. “It turns out Frank wasn’t the man I thought he was.  He wanted to own me.” Claire pursed her lips in anger. “And when he couldn’t own me, I wasn’t enough. Everyday became a war between us. A long and tiresome war.”

I gulped, taking in the shrapnel of her destruction. With a swift movement of my spare hand, I rolled up the sleeve of her sweater, revealing bruises the colour of mustard and moss, screaming against her marble white skin – marks of resentful fingers, forceful enough to break vessels and spirits. A lonely tear streamed down her cheek.

“He hurt ye!” I hissed furiously between clenched teeth, fighting the urge to maim the husband who had so recklessly broke the vow to protect her – to love her. She needed my restraint and I could offer it to her – not another display of bad temper by a man she had trusted. I hesitantly touched the bruises, wishing to erase them with kisses, to heal them with the adoration I would bestow upon her.

“I hurt him back.” Claire assured me, a look of shame crossing her face – as if I could pay witness to the degradations inflicted by both during their marriage. “He didn’t want me to leave. Frank said he still loves me.”

“Does he?” I asked with gentleness, battling the urge to ask her if she still loved him.

“I don’t know.” The tear track on her face glistened like a dry river, leaving thirst in its wake. “His love didn’t hurt like this, before.”

I wanted to ask her details on her failed marriage – her unhappiness was patent and unbearable – but restrained myself. She must have spent hours replaying the film of her derailed life, echoing words meant to harm – there was no cure to be found in saying them once more. I wished only to placate her pain – to take it all into myself, if I could. I longed to be the bringer of her smiles and not of her tears.

“I called ye.” I suddenly revealed, half embarrassed. “I waited too long – ye were gone by then. Maybe if I did…things would have been different.”

“Perhaps.” Claire agreed, haltingly. “But you were right – I shouldn’t have settled for less.”

I risked to brush her hair – silky and curly, so elementally Claire that took my breath away – and she closed her eyes in enjoyment of the intimate touch.

“What will ye do?” I asked, so afraid of the answer I could die. I wished for nothing more than to have her in my bed, lying so close to me as I memorized her, for the rest of my days. And yet I knew I had no guarantee of intimacy, of another conversation, of another touch – I savoured them all as a gift, for they were precious and not promised.

“I have to go back to Boston.” Claire explained, gripping my hand with strength. “I have a life there – a nursing job, medical school, friends and - .” She stopped, her eyes wide open.

Frank.” I swallowed hard, fighting against myself to offer her an encouraging smile. “Ye are still married to him.”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes, almost sobbing. I brought her hand closer to my mouth and kissed her knuckles.

“I won’t tell ye what to do – that is for ye to decide, mo nighean donn. But I need ye to know something, Claire.” I touched her chin with tenderness, urging her to open her eyes. “Ye alone hold all my heart – even before I knew yer name, ye meant light to me. I’ll wait for ye my whole live – and gladly so, even if it means that I’ll watch ye from afar, happy and fulfilled with another man, worthy of ye.”

“Jamie, I – “ Claire started, but I kissed her hand again and brought her against my chest, where my heart kept pounding, speaking enough to silence her.

“I’d rather ye dinna make promises ye may not wish to keep afterwards, when yer heart is less sore. When – if - ye mean them, I’ll be here.” I pleaded, staring into her eyes – she held my gaze for a while and nodded back. “Rest now, mo nighean donn. Let me watch over ye as ye sleep. Let me see ye safe.”

“I’m always safe with you.” She whispered.

I cherished her and held her hand until she fell asleep – finding new reasons to love her while she dreamt. She felt safe and protected with me – and, for that moment, it was enough.

Even when night came and we were left in complete darkness, I listened to her breathing, absorbing the symphony of the lover I craved. Once in a while I closed my eyes, making sure I could remember her perfectly – opening them again to correct a small detail, to drink another drop of her, afraid I would forget. Tormented I wouldn’t.

In the wee hours of night, I fought against sleep. I felt raw and tender, heart and body aching, calling me irresistibly to slumber.

I must have surrendered at some point. I had the vague recollection of a chaste kiss against my lips – timid, yet burning.

In the morning, she was gone.