and i follow them all and they make my dash lovely

hello bros and dudettes!! not long ago i hit 2k and since i’m in the middle of pretending that bread’s station song doesn’t exist why not make the best out of it and finally show my love for u guys!!

💖 - listen. LISTEN. you’re one of my ultimate tumblr faves and i’ll love you forever. even if u tag me in jh posts, listen to taylor swift or turn into a furry blog i’ll still support you.

🤧 - i just want to protect you from the evil forever. you deserve the world :(

❣️ - HELLO I’D LIKE TO ANNOUNCE THAT I LOVE YOU

💝 - we never talked but when i see you on my dash my face does that thing when i look like i’m constipated but i’m actually smiling :/ i lov u

👑 - GOD TIER QUALITY CONTENT!! thank you for all the effort you put into making them pretty gifs and graphics. thank you for existing and making my dash the beautiful place it is now. 

🌟 - ur blog speaks to my heart. might as well unfollow everyone else, you’re the only one i need :( ♥

i had to go through 250+ blogs so i’m 99% sure i’ve missed someone important and i’m too lazy to check who’s my mutual and who’s not so please don’t hesitate to drag me

a-i
@assjaehyun 💖 | @babyisitme 💝 | @babyjungwoo ❣️👑 | 
@b00mingsystem 💝 | @b1ushpink ❣️ | @cypher127 💖🌟 |
@dofawn 👑| @dovounq 👑 | @doyouta 💝 | @fingerstoe 💝🌟 |
@haecha 👑💖 | @haechnn 💖🤧 | @happy-thanskgivinct 💝 |
@hey-uta 💖👑 | @hrjn 💖🤧🌟

j-r
@jaehyunscult 💝 | @jenorenjun 💝🌟 | @jeongyunos 💖👑 |
@johnnys-hair 💖 | @kisakyu 💝 | @kkobuksol 💖🤧| @markcity ❣️🌟 | @micdropsgf 💖 | @nakasyuta 💝👑 | @nalseol 💖🤧 | @nct-dork ❣️ | @nctaezen 💖👑 | @nctjaemin  👑 | @nctmark 👑 | @nctmarkren 🌟 | @neocity 👑 | @neojaehyun ❣️🌟 | @pianistjohnny 💝 | @reblognct 💝 |
@renjunz ❣️ | @rookiies ❣️🌟 | @rroykim 💝

s-z
@smileyjeno 💖🤧 | @spooky-lion ❣️ | @sp00kyjae ❣️ |
@suhiconic 💝🌟 | @taeiljaeh 👑 | @taewinnies 💝🤧 |
@taeyongshi 💝| @taompon 💖 | @tytrackk ❣️ | @ueo 💖🤧🌟 |
@yabala-bahiya 💖🤧 | @yitaeyong 💝🤧 | @yukren 💖🌟 | @yutende 💝

#
@1aeil 💖🤧🌟 | @1aeyong 💖👑🤧 | @4yutaeil 💝🌟


I LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU AND THANK YOU TO THOSE WHO PUT UP WITH MY SHIT :( ♥

PSA

I follow a lot of awesome vegans and a lot of vegan posts pop up on my dash. I’M NOT GETTING INTO AN ARGUMENT ABOUT VEGANISM WITH ANYONE. THAT’S NOT WHAT THIS IS ABOUT. I just feel like I need to address a trend I see pretty frequently:

Anthropomorphism of farm animals.

This is DANGEROUS, for both the animals and the people who believe what’s being said about these animals. 

For example, cows. 

For obvious reasons the images of cows in posts talking about how cows aren’t dumb, unfeeling hamburgers in waiting are generally like this:

And usually they’re accompanied by talk of how they can be trained, how they have best friends (which is actually true!) and how sweet they can be. 

On the other side, there are posts like this going around 

Thing is, cows do not cry tears like humans do. In fact, there are a lot of posts claiming to present animals weeping like humans do (and not always by vegans).  In fact watery discharge can be a sign of early eye infections in cattle. Claiming they’re tears of sadness normalizes signs of ill health as normal animal emotions. This is also I why I get so worked up over people saying a stressed out dog with its lips pulled back is ‘smiling and happy’. 

All of these posts combine to make the popular perception of cows something they’re absolutely not and is very dangerous for people with their hearts in the right place looking to help the world out. 

Cows are dangerous. I feel like I shouldn’t have to tell people that a thousand pound animal is dangerous, but I do. Not the people I see on my dash, but actual people looking to interact with actual cows (I work with them). Yes, they can be lovely and docile when socialized and handled correctly and consistently but if you have no way of knowing the cows background you have no way of knowing their temperament. If you decide to volunteer at cattle rescues, this will very likely be the case. Moreover, well socialized and docile cattle ARE STILL DANGEROUS AS FUCK. Even the most tame animals can lash out if in pain, under stress or “out of nowhere” (read: lashing out because from their judgement of a situation in makes sense to them, but you misread their judgement). So you get things like this:

With the huge emphasis on docile cows who are good, loving, devoted mothers it’s understandable someone would want to give her a calming and congratulatory stroke after giving birth. 

That cow could have killed her. 

This is obviously dangerous for humans but it’s also dangerous for cows. Aggressive animals are often euthanized, no matter what provoked the aggression and it also inflates statistics that could be used as a counter argument to veganism. 

The same sort of thing happens to pigs. 

The vegan info posts about pigs tend to use images like this:

Cute, eh? The posts also talk about how intelligent these animals are and how they can be kept as pets. Who wouldn’t want one? Usually people who look into pigs as pets look into ‘mini’ pigs or ‘micro’ pigs. Pigs that will stay small forever. Except even ‘mini’ pigs can grow to a hundred pounds in size and they’re STRONG. I say ‘mini’ because sometimes people are duped into buying regular piglets that are claimed to be fully grown. 

Which brings me back to warning anyone who wants to volunteer at a pig rescue that pigs. are. huge. People mislead into thinking they’re not will likely not keep and care for their little pig once it’s not so little and I don’t know anyone who would/could keep a 500 lb hog in their home and/or backyard. 

And, like with cows, they are DANGEROUS. 

And, unlike cows, they are not herbivores. 

PEOPLE HAVE BEEN KILLED AND EATEN BY PIGS. Yes, eaten. One could argue that this happens when pigs aren’t well socialized and habituated with humans, but if you’re working with a pig you don’t know you have no guarantee that they’re tame. 

I could go on, but cows and pigs are the animals I see most represented in these posts (chickens too, but they pose less of a threat, unless you count avian flu) and another thing I see very frequently are cute pictures and videos and cows, pigs, and chickens interacting with dogs. If you’re under the impression that these animals are sweet and docile and your dog is also sweet, what could go wrong?

A lot. 

Odds are your animals will not be used to interacting with an animal of that species and these animals ‘languages’ don’t always translate! Animals get things mixed up all the time! The most common one I’ve seen is a dog misreading a cat’s irritated swishy tail as a wagging ‘I want to play!’ tail. Claws to the face aren’t fun, but attacked by a large animal? Possibly deadly. Dogs do not comprehend size and strength and potential for an aggressive strike in the same way that we do. That’s why you end up with things like this:

Again, that dog could’ve easily died OR MIGHT HAVE DIED LATER. 

This little trooper was kicked by a cow

Projecting your feelings and ideas onto an animal can potentially kill them. Again, if you have the opportunity to work with these animals KEEP YOUR OWN ANIMALS AWAY. 

All of these things remind me very much of the people who claim wolves are nothing but big puppies, or who cohabitant snakes so they don’t get ‘lonely’. 

You can’t love and advocate for the protection of an animal when you only love and advocate for the protection of your fantasy of that animal because when real animals fall short of that, real animals get hurt. 

Horses, cows, and pigs are big. Respect their size. Horses, cows, and pigs ALL have the potential to become aggressive. EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. Respect their potential to become aggressive. 

Thank you, 

Signed, a person who is sick to fucking death of watching adults assume every farm animal I work with has the personality of a bowl of whipped cream and the patience of a saint and encourage their children to interact with them as such. That’s how animal “attacks” happen, that’s how lifetime fears and hatreds are born. 

9

hello, yes, I love space 

Space Tourism/Travel Posters:  Planets of our Solar System

Y'ALL. NEPTUNE IS DONE. WE MADE IT. 

I am SO, SO excited about this series. It was a very ambitious project, and I poured a lot of time, love, and effort into it. It really tested my skills, and I am super proud of the results.  

PLEASE LOOK AT THEM AND BE IMPRESSED. 

Thank you so much for all of the replies, reblogs, likes, and asks you’ve sent me about this series over the last couple months. Your support and encouragement mean the world to me! 

 There are a few more posters still to come: Pluto and a couple other dwarf planets are in varying stages of progress. And I’ve gotten a handful of questions about whether I might include exoplanets or other space probes in future poster designs–I don’t have specific plans for those at this time, but I do mean to keep making posters in this style, so keep an eye out! 

 These illustrations are available as posters, shirts, and a couple other things in my shop. And since I’ve gotten this question: The cheapest way to own all of them is by buying stickers–they’re only a few bucks, and Redbubble discounts stickers pretty steeply when you buy several at once.

If you like this series, you’ll also like the rest of my 8bit space art! I try to post about one new piece each week, and keep a pretty steady queue space pixel art reblogged from other artists. 

Check out my Redbubble store here, or just follow me for more space pixels on your dash!

spiritworldly  asked:

( whispers quietly ) eros & psyche ?

Aphrodite can’t get comfortable during her pregnancy. She’s always too hot, constantly sweating whether she’s in the in the oppressive heat at the bottom of the volcano, or in the icy air at the top of it. It makes no difference. No matter where she goes or what she does, she can’t find any relief. Hephaestus hovers over her, wringing his hands and leaning his head against her stomach. Her distended skin is too warm to the touch, and both of them can’t help but worry about their child that grows inside her.

They beg help from Artemis, who has no help to give them. “The child is healthy,” she tells them, mystified. “The mother is healthy, though pained. I can do nothing for you because there is nothing to be done.”

Time passes. The child is born. They call him Eros.

He burns.

~

He warms in Artemis’s hands as she cleans him and Aphrodite eagerly waits to be handed her son. Artemis cries out and has to put him down, blisters appearing on his hands. Aphrodite moves to pick him up, and she can stand his heat for longer, but after a few minutes he leaves a welt of burnt flesh against her chest. Hephaestus tries next, and manages to hold his son for a whole quarter of an hour before his skin is eaten away.

Artemis can do nothing. She insists there’s nothing wrong with him, it’s just how he is. Hephaestus crafts gloves of flexible metal so they can care for him – the babe’s fire reacts to the warmth of another person. Clothes and objects remain unburned. They go to Hermes, to Apollo, to Hestia, and none can help them. Hestia tries to hold the child. She is the keeper of celestial fire, which burns hotter than anything, yet she too comes away burned. “The celestial fire is of me, and so it cannot harm me,” she tells them regretfully, “Eros is not, and so he can.”

No one can help them.

Eros cries, constantly unhappy because he longs to be held and rocked, longs for the warmth of his parents but they can only give him snatches of affections, stolen moments before he burns them and they must retreat behind cool metal.

Aphrodite is desperate. She sneaks away to Mount Olympus, goes against her husband’s wishes and goes to Hera. She’s crying as she speaks, and Hera watches her with cool, impassive eyes. “There is nothing wrong with your son,” she says. “He is as he was made to be. If you cannot provide the care he needs, find someone who can.”

Aphrodite stares, betrayed. Hera has been kind to her in the past, was the one who helped her choose her husband when all of Olympus sought her hand. Aphrodite is a daughter of Zeus, but not of another woman, and so Hera hadn’t hated her.

Hera loses some of her sternness. “I have given you the answer you need, if not the one you wanted. Return to you child and husband.”

She goes.

She tells Hephaestus where she went, and instead of angry he becomes contemplative.

~

Ares is blood soaked and exhausted when his brother appears beside him in the middle of a battlefield. “Hephaestus,” he greets, startled, “Is something wrong?”

“I need your help,” says the man who had never once asked him for anything, “I know it hurts to leave, but–”

Ares shakes his head, “There will always be another war. What do you need?”

~

He can wield the lightning bolts of Zeus and he takes bathes in lava to soothe the ache of his muscles. Ares is not bothered by heat or flame because it passes through him, he manages to do these things because he absorbs their heat instead of being harmed by it.

He’s in his brother’s bed, holding his nephew, and Eros gives him a gap-toothed little grin from where he’s splaying out against his chest, skin against skin. “Cute kid,” he yawns. Hephaestus is on one side of him, and Aphrodite on the other.

Ares leeches most of the heat from Eros, so he’s cool enough to touch, so his parents can pat his back and kiss his forehead. “Thank you,” Hephaestus says, finally able to touch his son without consequence.

“Anytime,” Ares says, eyes sliding shut.

With his brother’s family curled around him, Ares finds enough calm to sleep.

~

When Eros is older, he learns to control it. He always runs hot, but by the time he’s gotten big enough that the cyclopses are constantly chasing him in fear of him getting into something he shouldn’t, he’s learned to regulate his temperature to the point he doesn’t burn anyone any more.

Or at least, he doesn’t burn any gods anymore. No matter how hard he tries, he’s too hot for any mortal to touch unharmed.

Before that, Ares spends every moment away from the battlefield with Eros that he can. He’s not always able to sleep, but he lies down with Eros on top him and with Aphrodite and Hephaestus on either side.

Rumors run rampant, like they always do. People say Eros is the product of a union between Ares and Aphrodite, they say that Aphrodite has been cheating on her husband since the moment they married.

“I’m sorry,” Ares says, face pinched.

Hephaestus smiles, and Ares relaxes. “You are only doing what I’ve asked of you. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

Ares can’t help but feel guilty anyway.

~

Eros grows, from a toddler to a man. He burns, a wide laughing mouth and eyes like the sun. When he’s declared the god of passion, no one is surprised.

He has the best features of both his parents, and is devastatingly beautiful, with a face that Helen herself would weep over. He is the son of the goddess of love and the god of craftsmanship, and passion is necessary for both.

Passion is many things. There is passion in love, and he goads many a shy couple into a desperate embrace. There is passion in war, and when the battlefield grows stilted and tired he joins his favorite uncle there and brings their energy to the fore. There is passion in academia, and Eros encourages many scholars who spend long nights seeking answers they may never find. There is passion in art, and he blesses uninspired artists to create their heart’s desire.

Passion is a quickening heartbeat, a want that must be sated, a determination to follow through. It is burning until you are nothing more than ash simply because the fire is too beautiful to put out.

Eros is a favorite among the gods, because so much of what he does benefits them. He quickens the pulse of a people, and they use that energy to do great deeds in the gods’ names.

He is beautiful and powerful and loved. He wants for nothing, until –

- until his mother sends him to help a village girl who has been praying to her for months.

Eros sees Psyche, and instantly knows the weight of love in his chest.

~

Psyche is beautiful.

She knows this, it is the one thing about herself that she knows. All her life people tell her this, when she’s a babbling baby and a little girl and a fully grown woman, it’s what people say to her.

Men come to her seeking her hand, crossing borders and monsters to end up at her door. “I have no dowry,” she tells them, “I cannot cook, I am a poor seamstress, I have never cleaned a home.”

“I do not care,” they all tell her, with their greedy eyes and their greedy hands, “You are beautiful.”

Her mother and aunts shooed her from the kitchen as a child, saying the steam would ruin her pretty hair, wouldn’t let her sew because the needles would harden her soft hands, didn’t want her to spend hours cleaning because the she was too lovely to mar with common dirt.

Other children wouldn’t play with her, including her sisters, and soon she ran from all her tutors whose gazes made her shoulders itch. The first time someone lays tribute at her feet, like she is some sort of goddess and not a simple village girl, she runs away and locks herself in her room.  

The tributes and prayers don’t stop, and she hates them. She only wants to be like everyone else, wants to read and cook and have friends. Every night she bundles up the gifts and tributes people give her sneaks away to the temple of Aphrodite. She lays these things where they belong, with the goddess of beauty and love. “Please,” she begs, every night, “please make it all stop, revered goddess. I can’t live this way.”

She does this, for years and years, but her prayers are never answered. She sinks lower and lower, feeling confined to her home like a prisoner since she can’t leave it without flowers being thrown at her feet or someone remarking on her figure and face. Her sisters will not speak to her, and her parents will not listen to her. She eats less and spends days languishing in bed, growing weaker and more tired by the day.

One day, after turning away yet another suitor and being turned away yet again when she tries to help her mother in the kitchen, she goes far out of the village, where no will find her, where no one will be able to remark on the beauty of her corpse.

She walks to the edge of a cliff, and takes a deep breath. “Lady Aphrodite,” she whispers, “let me be ugly in my next life.”

She jumps.

~

Eros sees her falling, and bids Zephyr to save her. She is caught gently by the wind. However, she’s so weak and malnourished that the shock of not falling to her death causes her to pass into unconsciousness. He wishes he could have save her himself, that he could take her in his arms now and cradler her close to his chest.

But he burns.

If he touched her, he would harm her, so he will not.

“Take her to my home,” he says, conflicted because he has no interest in growing into either Zeus or Poseidon. But he cannot touch her, so it’s not the same. “I’ll be along shortly.”

Zephyr carries her away, far into the distance.

This is not what his mother intended when she sent him here, but he can’t leave Psyche among the mortals. If she tried to kill herself once, she’ll do it again, and then where will he be?

Eros feels heavy with love, and he does not know this girl, he does not know how this is possible unless it has been arranged by the Fates. Psyche is a beautiful girl, but he is a god. He is the son of the goddess of beauty and every other goddess he knows is comparable in the grace of their form and face. Beautiful mortals do not tempt him.

He has other things to attend to, so he puts aside the problem of Psyche so he can go convince a young noble lady to kiss the baker’s daughter.

~

Psyche wakes up, which she wasn’t expecting. What’s more, she’s not in pain. She’s being carefully deposited on soft grass by a being she can’t see. “Where am I?” she cries. She doesn’t think this is the afterlife. She’s on top of a large mountain, and a large, gorgeous home with marble columns sits on the edge.

There is an edge. She can still jump. She takes one hesitant step closer when a strong gust of wind pushes her back and something like a voice says, This is the home of a god, do not desecrate this place with your blood.

“Okay,” she says, a mixture of relief and fear clogging her throat, “Can I – can I go inside? It’s cold out here.”

The wind pushes her towards the home, so she takes that as permission.

It’s all marble and gold and fur, perfectly decorated and with many rooms and interesting things. But Psyche finds the bedroom, and in between the long journey outside of her village and the adrenaline of being caught by the wind and brought here, she’s exhausted. She climbs onto the soft bed without thinking, and is asleep the moment her head touches the pillow.

~

The moon is high in the sky by the time Eros returns home. He steps inside, and doesn’t light any of the torches out of fear of startling the girl. He finds her in his own bedroom, and only has a moment to stare at her silhouette against his white blankets before she’s stirring, pushing herself up looking around the room. Her eyes aren’t as good as his, so she can’t even see the outlines of objects. To her, it is complete darkness. “Who’s there?” she demands, voice scratchy from sleep, “What do you want?”

“I am a friend,” he says, not saying his name. He knows the impression mortals have of him, and the last thing she needs to hear is that he’s the god of passion while she lies helpless before him in his bed. “The wind brought you here because you threw yourself from the cliff face. Why would you do that?”

She sits up and pulls her knees to her chest. “I don’t want to talk to about it.”

He sighs, but doesn’t push. “I’m not here to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

“What are you here to do?” she asks, “Why am I here?”

She sounds sad, and scared, and he wishes he could touch her. He wishes he could take her hands and kiss her forehead, but he can’t, not without hurting her. “I think it would be best if you stayed with me, for a while. Until you no longer find cliffs so tempting. I have a beautiful home, and am often gone while attending to my duties, so feel free to make full use of it.”

“What do you get out of it?” she demands.

He smiles, wry, and knows she cannot see it. “I suppose I could use a housekeeper.”

He meant it as a joke, but she perks up at the words. “A housekeeper? Really?”

“If you like,” he says, although there are nature sprites who tend to his home for him if necessary. “I apologize, we’ve been speaking in the dark this whole time. I’ll light the lanterns.”

He moves to do so, a flicker of flame already appearing on his fingertips when she screams, “NO! DON’T!”

Eros freezes. “Psyche?”

“You can’t look at me,” she says desperately, “Please. Not – not ever. If you saw me, you wouldn’t be so nice to me. I – I want you to be nice to me. Don’t light the lanterns.”

“Never?” he asks, and he’s already seen her from afar, he knows what she looks like. But it sounds as if she’s seconds away from away from crying, and it seems like it would only be a cruelty to tell her this now.

“Never,” she says, “please. Please.”

Staying away from home during the day is a small thing, what with his parent’s volcano always open to him, and he can see well enough in the darkness that he’s not in any danger of tripping over his own feet. “Very well, Psyche. If that’s what you want. We will only meet in darkness, and I shall never see your face.”

~

Psyche takes his offhand comment about housekeeping seriously. She’s never cleaned before, but she’s seen it done, it’s simple if not easy. The first time her hands blister and crack she can’t stop smiling for the rest of the day. She spends her days cleaning, and at first that takes up all her time. She’s unpracticed, and slow, and she falls into the same bed utterly exhausted. It leaves her no time to dwell on the life she left behind, or the hollow ache below her breastbone.

It’s hard work, and it leaves her ravenous. Before, she ate almost nothing and slept most of the day away. She doesn’t do that here, can’t, has more of an appetite than she’s had since she was a child. Nymphs bring food to the home, fruits and vegetables, bread and cheese and meat. At first she makes only simple meals, but as the cleaning takes less and less time she finds herself trying more things. Cooking is harder to get the hang of than cleaning.

Her friend comes to her at night, slipping into her room. She always knows when he’s there, even if she’s deep in sleep, and will wake up to speak to him. Psyche never leaves the bed, and he never comes from across the room. She sits up and listens to his voice, of the people he saw and things he did. She tells him the same, even though at first she thinks he does not care. But he does, because he asks her questions and compliments her on polishing the floors until they shine. One night after a particularly bad failure, the first thing he does is ask, “Did you try and burn down my kitchen, Psyche?”

He’s laughing, so she throws a pillow at him, and is satisfied by the dull thud of it hitting true and his laughter growing louder. “If I had tried I would have succeeded, and you would have come home to an ash pile.”

“Then I’m pleased by your restraint,” he says, and she scowls at him even though he can’t see it. “What was that horrible smell supposed to me?”

“Lamb,” she says, sighing. “I don’t think I’m a very good cook.”

“Perhaps not. Why don’t you try doing something else? What else do you enjoy?” he asks.

She sits cross legged on the bed and frowns. “I don’t know,” she says finally, “I’m a poor artist and a worse singer. I have no eye for needlework. I like knowing things, but I’m not a fan of learning. I – I like cleaning. I like using my hands.”

“Focus on what you like. Try to do some things with your hands. The garden could use some looking after,” he suggests.

“I do have to eat,” she points out, “I might as well learn to cook.”

He snorts. “Spare both yourself and my kitchen. Don’t worry about that. Worry about the mint that’s taking over the rose bushes.”

She doesn’t know what he means until she gets up the next morning and finds a day’s worth of food waiting for her, already made and much tastier than anything she’s managed. Next to it is a book on gardening.

This, she has a knack for. It is a god’s garden, so it has always been beautiful, but under her hands it becomes even more so, flourishing and vibrant under her attentions. She plants flowers that bloom and glow at night, so that her friend may walk through the garden and be greeted by something that doesn’t slumber.

Her hands are calloused and hard, and dirt gets stuck under fingernails. Her hair is a sweaty mess and breaking at the ends, and her skin is tanned in patches, her arms and the back of neck darker than her stomach and thighs. Freckles pop up in unexpected places, on her wrists and shoulders, a single one slightly off center of her sternum.

She has never felt more beautiful.

Psyche is stronger now, food and hard work having thickened her waist and brightened her eyes. She does not fall asleep exhausted each night, but instead sits up waiting for her friend to visit her, eagerly listening to his adventures of the day and telling him of all the things she did, of the new plants she’s trying to grow and how the shrubbery is stubbornly growing in uneven heightd.

“My hands are all rough,” she tells him one night, like it’s a secret.

He doesn’t understand. “Have you tried rubbing olive oil in them?”

She laughs, and gets to her feet, confident she knows the room well enough that she won’t stumble or fall and walking towards his voice. “No, it’s a good thing, it’s never happened before. See?”

She reaches out and he shouts, “No! Don’t touch me–”

It’s too late, her hand has already blindly grabbed onto his arm. She lets go, “I’m sorry! I didn’t know–”

“We have to get you to Hermes, before the burns get too bad,” he says urgently.

Now she’s the one who doesn’t understand. “What burns?”

He quiets. “You’re not hurt?”

She flexes her hand, mystified. “No. Should I be?”

“I – everyone else always was,” he says.

“I’m not everyone else,” she says confidently, and takes another step closer. She grabs onto his arm again, fumbling until she can hold his hand in hers. He flinches, but doesn’t pull away from her. “See, I’m fine.”

Carefully, and oh so slowly, he curls an arm around her waist and pulls her forward until she’s flush against his chest and full lips press against her forehead. “I’m – I’m glad.”

He’s not just talking about her not being burned. She feels such a surge of affection for him in this moment, and being held in his arms she realizes something. She loves him, this man she’s never seen and doesn’t truly know. He’s kind and funny and has given her back a life she hadn’t known she’d lost. He’s never touched her or coveted her, and even now in his arms there’s nothing lecherous or uncomfortable about his touch.

That might change, if he saw her. If he knew how she looked, he might forget about the rest of her, and to lose his affection and regard now would kill her as surely as that fall from the cliff would have.

But he does not need to see her to touch her.

She shifts enough so that he raises his head, and gathers her courage. She presses their lips together, lightly at first, then less lightly when he returns it. “Come to bed,” she says, when they part, dizzy with emotions she’s never had before.

“Are you sure?” he asks, voice rough.

She’s never been more sure of anything in her life.

“Yes.”

~

That’s her life now, her days filled with cleaning and gardening and her nights with her friend, her now lover. He’s never told her his name, and she doesn’t want to ask. He doesn’t see her and she doesn’t know his name. It seems better that way, more fair. She falls asleep in his arms every night, and he’s gone by the time she wakes, gone before the first ray of sunlight creeps through the window.

He loves her. It’s obvious, so incredibly obvious that she’s ashamed she didn’t notice before. He let her sleep in his bed even before they were sleeping together, gave over his home to her and requested nothing in return, listens to her and laughs with her. He loves her, and she loves him, and it’s time she trusted him.

She’s wide awake when he comes to her, greeting her with a kiss. He notices her stiffness and pulls back. “Is something wrong?”

“I think it’s time you saw my face,” she’s shaking, and she can’t stop it. She loves him and is terrified his love for her will change when he sees her.

She sits up in bed, and he kneels in front of her on the floor, holding her hands in his. “Psyche, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. It’s okay.”

She shakes her head, “No. I love you, and – and we should be together in the light of day, our love is too big to fit in this room anymore.”

He kisses her wrist and says, “Whatever you like.”

How will she live without this love? Hopefully she won’t have to find out. She reaches for a lantern and sets it in her lap, lighting it with careful fingers. A soft glow fills the room, and she squeezes her eyes shut, waiting.

A finger touches a spot on her sternum, then her shoulders, her neck, her cheeks, then the tip of her nose. “You have freckles,” he says, “I like them.”

She opens her eyes. Her lover is smiling at her, and he’s gorgeous, every bit as pretty as she is with dark eyes and even darker skin. Most importantly, he’s looking at her like a person, with love and affection. Not with something blank and othering like so many people have looked at her before, not like she’s an object or an art piece.

The tidal wave of relief is so great that she’s weak with it. She realizes her mistake a second later when the lantern slips out of her hands, spilling hot oil.

Her lover reacts faster than any mortal man could, pushing her out of the way and catching the lantern at an awkward angle, so most of the burning oil spills down his arms and chest. “No!” Psyche cries.

He looks down at his blistering skin with fascination, “That’s never happened before.” He winces, and clenches his hands as the burns spread along his body, as his skin cracks and bleeds.

“Lie down!” Psyche cries, grabbing the sheets and trying to mop up the oil, trying to stop it from spreading. “What were you thinking? You should have let it fall on me!”

It’s burning more than hot oil should, and she’s sobbing as tries to stop it. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, voice slurring as his eyes slide shut. “I would never let anything hurt you.”

“No!” she grabs his shoulders and shakes him, “Wake up! You have to wake up!”

He doesn’t respond. Psyche thinks back, frantic, to when he thought he had burned her when they first touched, to the person he said they needed. “HERMES!” she screams, “HERMES! A GOD NEEDS YOU!”

There’s a flash of light, and the messenger god of healing and is in front of them. “Eros,” he says, dropping down beside him and not looking at Psyche at all. “What happened to you?”

He touches his chest, and then they’re both gone.

Psyche is left alone crying next to an oil soaked sheet.

~

Hermes takes Eros to his parents, both of whom drop everything to come to his side. “What happened?” Hephaestus demands.

Hermes concentrates on containing the burns before they can spread any further. He can worry about healing them alter. “He dropped oil on himself.”

“He’s a god,” Aphrodite snaps, “no oil can harm him. Even if it could, it wouldn’t be able to do this.”

Hermes shoots them both a grin, “It seems like your boy’s fallen in love. Only true love could cool him enough to burn him, only true love could hurt him like this.”

It’s at that moment that Eros gasps awake. He reaches out, and Aphrodite takes his hand. “Mom,” he says, eye wide, “please, go to my house, there’s a girl there–”

“Did she do this to you?” she asks dangerously.

“It was an accident. I pushed her out of the way, I didn’t know I would burn,” he moans in pain, then grits his teeth against it. “Mom, please. Please go to her.”

She looks to Hermes, who’s busy mixing a salve. He doesn’t look up at her as he says, “Your son will be fine. I’ll take care of the burns.”

Hephaestus meets her gaze and gives a sharp nod. “Go, I’ll stay with him.”

Aphrodite doesn’t want to leave him, but gives in and does as her son asks of her.

~

She shows up just in time to stop the mortal girl from hurling herself from the mountain side. “What do you think you’re doing?” she snaps, and takes a moment to register that it’s the village girl she sent Eros to help so long ago. This wasn’t what she’d had in mind.

Her red eyes and tear soaked face does more to sooth Aphrodite’s temper than any excuses she could have given. “He’s dead,” she sobs, “I love him, and he’s gone, and there’s no reason for me to live any longer. Please, let me die.”

Aphrodite sees the glow of love on her, and knows the girl’s affection for her son is true. “He is not dead,” she hesitates and adds, “yet.”

True love has started wars and left all involved nothing but dust and regret. Her son deserved more than that. A love must not only be true – it must be pure.

“If you wish for him to live, you must help me,” she says.

Psyche prostrates herself before her, “Anything! I’ll do anything!”

Aphrodite moves them to warehouse full of mixed grains. “You must sort these before dawn. Barley is necessary for a poultice that will heal my son. Hurry.”

~

Psyche looks at all of them and despairs. But her lover needs her. Eros needs her.

She gets to work.

The night is halfway gone and she’s not even a tenth of the way complete. There’s no hope, her love will die, and there’s nothing she can do to stop it. She gives in, and is sobbing in the middle of the warehouse when she feels a tickling sensation on her hand. She looks down to see a small ant. “Why are you crying?” the ant asks.

“I need to sort all these grains, and I cannot do it,” she says, sniffling. “My lover needs the barely to heal.”

The ant considers this. “I will help you,” it declares, “and in return you must allow me to take all the beans from this store.”

“They are not mine to give,” Psyche says regretfully, “so I cannot accept your help.”

“Then your lover will die,” the ant says callously, and leaves.

She looks at the unsorted pile of grains. Not if she can help it.

Psyche shoves up her sleeves and gets back to work.

~

Aphrodite shows up, and Psyche is still working. She’s gotten through three quarters of the grains, and Aphrodite is impressed. She did not think she would manage to get through even half. The girl clearly hasn’t slept, and even now doesn’t pause in her work. “Lady,” she says, “I’m not done yet.”

“That is enough,” Aphrodite says, looking at the sizable pile of barley. She produces a glass bottle and puts it in front of her. “To stave of death while we make the poultice, we need water from the river Styx. There is a spout on top of my son’s mountain. You must collect this water and return it to me.”

Psyche’s shoulder’s slump, but she doesn’t hesitate when she takes the glass bottle. “I will do it.”

~

Psyche calls for the wind, begging it to take her to the top of the mountain. If the lady wishes, it says. She’s lifted into the air, and brought there. She’s freezing, and it’s hard to breath in the cold air. Dragons sit on either side of the spout, snapping their jaws at her. “Please!” she calls out, “I need the water of the river Styx! I act in the name of Aphrodite.”

They hiss and spit fire at her, and she clings to the side, trying to avoid the flames. “We are not commanded by the Lady Aphrodite,” a child’s voice says, and Psyche looks up to see a girl with black skin and grey hair looking down at her from the back of one of the dragons.

“Please,” Psyche says, “Lady Styx, grant me some of your river. Eros need it to live.”

Styx frowns, and says, “This is not a water which brings life.”

“Please,” she repeats, “I swear no harm will be done in your name, I swear my intentions are honest.”

The child goddess sighs and says, “Come and get it then. If my dragons’ flames pass through you, then you speak the truth, and may have some of my river. If you lie, then I shall see you again in the underworld.”

Psyche nods and walks forward, not breaking eye contact with the child goddess. The dragons screech and flame roars towards her and then – it goes through her. She reaches the top of the mountain safely. She holds out the glass bottle.

Styx laughs and fill it for her. “Happy travels,” she says, right before pushing her off the mountain. Zephyr catches her halfway down, and it takes several seconds for Psyche to stop screaming.

Zephyr deposits her back on the ground, and Aphrodite appears before her. Psyche hands over the bottle.

Aphrodite undoes it and pours the water out, and the grass dies wherever it falls. “It’s too late,” she says, and Psyche’s heart is in her throat, “the only thing left to do is to go to Persephone and beg a spark of life from her.” She slashes her hand down, and opening into the underworld appears. “Persephone will not grant any request of mine. You must go.”

She barely finished speaking when Psyche throws herself through the portal.

~

Aphrodite stares at the place where the girl stood, stunned. Hermes appears beside her. “Your son is well and only sleeps,” he says, “Isn’t this a bit unnecessary?”

“My son has a heart that will never stray. She must prove herself worthy of it,” Aphrodite answers.

Hermes stares, “You will petition Zeus for her?”

“If she proves herself worthy,” she says, then looks at the place where she poured out the incalculably dangerous water of the river Styx. “She’s doing quite well, so far.”

~

Psyche stumbles as she goes through the portal and falls on her knees. This ends up being rather lucky, as it’s taken her to the throne room of the palace of the underworld. Not only is Persephone there, but so is Hades and a god she thinks might be Thanatos. Both Persephone and Thanatos throw Hades narrow eyed looks, which he ignores. “Miss Psyche,” he says, “we’ve been expecting you.”

“Have we,” Persephone says dryly.

Psyche shuffles forward until she’s kneeling in front of Persephone and presses her forehead to the cool obsidian floor. “Lady Goddess,” she says, “I beg a spark of life from you.”

Persephone rises from her throne, and circles her with slow measured steps, her face blank and cold. “I’ve seen you garden,” she says finally, “you have quite a talent with plants.”

“Thank you, Lady,” she says.

Persephone crouches and grabs her chin, jerking up her chin to get a good look at her. “Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing,” she murmurs. “I will give you a spark of life. In return, you must give me your beauty.”

“Take it,” Psyche begs, elated the price is so small, “I don’t want it, I’ve never wanted it. All I want is Eros.”

Her coldness melts away, and the goddess of life and death shakes her head, a small smile curled around the corner of her lips. “He chose well,” she says.

Psyche doesn’t understand until there’s another rip in the air, and her lover steps through. He looks healthy, alive and well. “Eros!” she cries, forgetting her place and standing in the presence of the king and queen of the dead. Before she can kneel once more, Eros runs to her and picks her up in his arms, raising her into the air and spinning her.

“I was so worried about you,” he says, kissing her, then kissing her tears away.

“I thought you were dying!” she says, running her hands over his chest and shoulders and nearly falling in relief when the skin there is whole and unburned.

He winces and kisses her once more, “My mother – I asked her to help you, not test you. I’m sorry.”

“You should be grateful,” Hades says, and they both turn to face him. “Psyche has proven herself, and Aphrodite intends to contest Zeus so that she may stay by your side for eternity.” He smiles, “If Aphrodite is unsuccessful, come to me. I will do what I can.”

They both bow to him, and then are gone in the next moment.

~

Aphrodite goes to Hephaestus, “You are his son, Zeus would want the request to come from you.”

“You are his daughter,” he shoots back, even as he paces.

She sighs, “I was born of his blood and sea foam. It is not the same, and you know it.”

Hephaestus gives a grudging nod. Neither of them are favorites among Olympus, so he goes to someone who is.

Ares looks at him consideringly. “You should ask Mom yourself. Father will do as she says.”  

“Hera hates me,” Hephaestus snaps. “She will reject my son’s request if I’m the one to present it.”

Ares grabs the back of his brother’s neck, pulling them together until their foreheads touch. Some tension gradually bleeds out of Hephaestus. “Try, for me,” Ares says. “If she denies you, I will ask her, and she will not deny me.”

Hephaestus goes to Mount Olympus when Zeus is gone and kneels before Hera. He looks up, and can’t help but think that Ares is right – they have her eyes. Eros has her eyes too. “My son has fallen in love with a mortal girl whom he wishes to marry. I petition you to allow her to become immortal.”

He’s braced for anything, shoulders hunched. Her laughter, her scorn, for her to throw him from Mount Olympus like she did when he was freshly born. “Would this make you happy?” she asks.

He blinks, mouth open. Is this some other cruel trick, to force him to admit it’s something he wants only so she can take greater pleasure in denying him? “Yes,” he says, because it’s true. It will make Eros happy, and when his son is happy, he is happy.

“Very well,” Hera says coolly. “We will have the wedding on Mount Olympus, and once they exchange vows she will become like us.”

He stares, frozen in shock. He didn’t expect it to be that easy. He’s never heard of anyone requesting anything from Hera and just getting it besides Ares.

“Was there anything else?” she asks.

Hephaestus shakes his head, “No, my queen. Thank you.”

He’s gone before she has a chance to respond, before she has a chance to change her mind.

~

Eros and Psyche’s marriage is the event of the century. Gods great and small show up for it, even Hades is convinced to leave his realm to attend.

They pledge their lives to each other, and Hera officiates as the goddess of marriage. Once they swear their loyalty to one another, she takes a small square of ambrosia and hand feeds it to Psyche. She swallows it in two bites, and when she’s finished she glows with her new status as an immortal.

Eros grabs Psyche and dips her.

When he kisses her, the gods’ cheering is loud enough that it causes thunder storms all across earth.

gods and monsters series, part xix

read more of the gods and monsters series here

Closet Softie

Or, How Bucky Barnes Nearly Ruined His Tough-Guy Rep

(On AO3)


The trail mix was gone. 

The nice, expensive trail mix, with twelve kinds of nuts and the big sunflower seeds and dried fruits, the kind Tony only rarely left sitting on the common floors for everyone to get at, was gone. 

Clint had been looking forward to that stuff all morning

All the way through a hellish morning “jog” with Steve, all through Nat handing him his ass on the training mats, all through firing the same batch of misweighted arrows over and over so Tony could take scans and fix the design, he’d been thinking, when this is done I get to go upstairs and hang out on the couch and watch Dog Cops and eat the good trail mix, guilt-free. 

And it was gone.

Clint was gonna shoot somebody.

Just as soon as he figured out who’d taken the trail mix.


kingofmemes posted:

yesterday i saw a sad duck in the park who kept getting picked on by the other ducks so today i brought some trail mix and we had a nice lunch together. also i think he might be the duck who pooped on sam last week. if so, he is officially my new best friend. 

Posted at 3:29 PM, 24379 notes

(Read More Below)


Keep reading

Polaroids : Jonathan Byers x Reader

Originally posted by gillijacobs

A/N: Oops, I went a little crazy on this one, but I hope you like it!

“Happy Holidays, Byers family!” You shout throughout the little house, all decked out in a cheesy Christmas sweater and Santa hat.

“Jonathan! Your favorite weirdo is here!” Will yells from the couch. You just give him a playful glare and he laughs. “You know you’re my favorite, (Y/N),” he says with a smile.

“I better be, Byers.” You point your finger at him and toss a box into his chest. Will reacts just in time and catches the box upright. “You’re welcome.”

Will’s eyes go wide and he jumps up to hug you. “Thank you so much, (Y/N)!”

Presents were a rarity in the Byers’ house, so you made sure that you would bring gifts for every holiday. Whether it be Christmas, birthdays, Halloween, or even weird ones like Arbor Day. You started doing that when you first spent Christmas with the Byers’ two years ago. There were maximum 8 presents to split between everyone under their little Christmas tree, and it made your heart hurt. 

“You’re welcome, Will. I have some more for everyone in my car if you want to grab them,” you pry him off and present him with your car keys. He eagerly takes them from your hands, dashing to the driveway. Jonathan finally appears in the living room with his hands behind his back, obviously holding something. 

“Hey, babe,” you say, greeting him with a small kiss. “I have a present for you.”

“You know you didn’t have to get me anything, (Y/N),” he starts. “You always get me gifts, even for pointless holidays.”

“What?” you pout. “I can’t spoil my boyfriend?”

Jonathan places the little box on the couch before his arms snake around your waist, pulling you closer. You wrap your arms around his neck and give him another kiss. “It’s just that…I feel like I need to spoil you. You’re so amazing and you deserve everything, which I can’t give to you.”

“Hey, Byers, I don’t need any gifts. You are the best thing that I could have.” You smile, looking straight into his eyes. “Plus, I enjoy spoiling you guys a little. You all work so hard, especially your mom, and you all deserve it.”

Jonathan touches his forehead to yours gently. “Wow, I love you,” he whispers before attaching his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. You start to melt a little when you hear the front door slam, prompting you both to pull away. Will stands at the door with a pile of presents in his arms, trying not to topple over. Jonathan just shakes his head at you, knowing that all of them were from you.

“What?” you attempt to look innocent but just end up smiling. You go over to help Will place all the presents under the tree as Jonathan takes a couple off the top of the pile. You all make your way over to the tree and set them down gently. Joyce walks in on you three, drying her hands on a towel, completely puzzled with what was taking place.

“Um, hello?” Joyce suddenly says, startling all of you. You’re the first to stand, followed by Will then Jonathan. “What’s going on?”

“Hi, Mrs. Byers!” You say, rummaging for one of her gifts. You find the one in gold wrapping paper and hand it to her. “Merry Christmas!”

A small smile forms on her face and she pulls you in for a hug. “Thank you so much, (Y/N). You have no idea how much this means to me. I feel like I need to repay you.”

“It’s really no problem, Mrs. Byers. I promise.” You hug her back and when she finally lets go, you can see a few tears in her eyes.

“Oh, wait! Let me go get the camera!” She quickly adds, wiping her eyes. She comes back a few seconds later with an old Polaroid camera in her hands. “Alright, all of you get together!”

You three arrange yourselves in front of the tree and smile wide, arms wrapped protectively around one another. “One, two, three!”

Joyce snaps two pictures and grabs them one by one as they slide out of the camera. She hands one to you and holds on to one for herself. 

She smiles at the scene in front of her, content for once in a long time. “My beautiful little family,” she whispers to herself. “My beautiful, little family.”

Snacks and Roses || Peter Parker Imagine

Paring: Peter Parker x reader

Word Count: 1607

Request: nah homie

A/N: i didn’t proof read it, I’m sorry. And sorry if you’re allergic to roses

Originally posted by fuckyeahtonystark

Y/N sat with Liz in the lunchroom , hearing their friends talking about Spider-Man once again. “He brings hope to the city. It’s like, we know that someone is looking out for us.” One of them said. Y/N thought about all the things the man has done for the city. I wonder if his life is good, if he’s happy in his real life, Y/N thought.

The topic was quickly changed when an announcement for Homecoming was made over the blaring intercom. “Students, don’t forget to buy your tickets for Homecoming next Friday.” The voice boomed, making all of the students start talking about the event.

Liz turned to Y/N, “So,” she said taking a bite from her food, “who are you going to the dance with?” All of their friends tuned in to what the two girls were saying.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. She wanted to go with Peter Parker, the smartest kid at Midtown High, if she went in the first place. Homecoming is going to be crowded and loud, with a bunch of annoying kids. Y/N didn’t want that. “I don’t think I’m going, actually. I’m probably gonna spend my night watching TV or something.” Y/N said, shaking her head like it was nothing.

“But Y/N,” one of her friends said enthusiastically, “You have to go! Peter is probably going, you should too!” She nodded her head behind Y/N. Y/N looked behind her to see Peter and Ned eating their lunch a few tables away. But he’s going to be dancing and hanging out with a girl that isn’t me, she thought.

Y/N smiled, “As much as I would love to go with him, it’s not gonna happen. He’s probably taking a super pretty girl with him and he’ll have a blast. Just,” she trailed off, starting to get quieter,“just not with me.” Y/N sighed, slumping her shoulders. Liz looked over at her giving her a sympathetic smile. “If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. It would be nice if you went though.”

Y/N returned the smile, “Thanks for understanding Liz.” Liz nodded her head, “Anytime.” She gave her attention back to her friends to hear the rest of their thoughts.

Peter Parker sat a few tables away, having the same conversation that Y/N was having. “Are you going to ask her to Homecoming?” Ned asked Peter looked at his friend as if he was crazy. “W-What? No. Never. I can barely form a sentence around her, let alone ask her out.” Peter said as he gazed down at his lap. He looked back up to her, admiring her from behind. Y/N turned around and Peter quickly looked away and muttered “Oh God.”

Ned looked confused at the teenager. Peter’s face was beet red, “I think she saw me. Oh God,oh God, she saw me staring at her man.”

Ned looked over at the girl who was now facing her friends talking. “I don’t think she did. Just breathe, she probably didn’t see. I mean you turned your head so fast that you might have whiplash.” He chuckled. Peter sighed, “Maybe you’re right.”

“Right about what?” Michelle asked as she reached the table with the two boys.

“Well, I asked Peter if he was asking Y/N to the dance and he started staring at her. She turned around and might’ve caught him.” Ned explained to the Michelle as she sat down. Peter hit Ned’s shoulder with the back of his hand, “Dude. Seriously?”

“What?” Ned asked, completely clueless at Peter’s new beacon of embarrassment. Before their bickering cold continue, Michelle started talking. “Actually, while I was walking over here, I heard that she wasn’t going. And I might’ve heard,” she stated trying to be dramatic, “that she was super bummed out that you were probably going with a different girl that isn’t her.”

Peter sat shocked. “You’re lying.” He said. There is no way that the girl he has had a crush on for years, is into him. Him of all people.

“I wouldn’t lie about true love, Parker.” Michelle replied, kind of mockingly.

“How are you going to ask her?” Ned asked. Peter was messing with the cuffs of her sleeves. “I-I don’t think I will.”

Ned looked shocked. “You have to. You finally have a chance to be with her.” Peter looked around, “I’m too scared. Besides, she said she didn’t want to go and I respect that.”

“Your loss,” Michelle said opening one of her books.

It was the Friday night of Homecoming and Y/N sat on her couch surrounded by her fluffy blankets, with a show paused on the TV screen and a water bottle in hand. She was on her phone talking to Liz, giving some advice for her outfit. “Should I wear the silver earrings I got for my birthday?” Liz asked. “Yeah, they match your dress very well.” Y/N replied, taking a sip of her drink.

“Y/N are you sure you don’t want to go? I might have an extra dress.” Liz asked, she didn’t want her friend to be alone while everyone else was having a blast.

“Yeah I’m sure. I’m fine with my TV shows and blankets. Go have fun!” Y/N stated, assuring the girl that everything would be fine. “You sure?” Liz asked, wanting to make sure her friend was okay.

“100%.” Y/N replied with a smile on her fave that she knew Liz couldn’t see. “Alright, I have to go. My date is here. If you need anything call me.” Liz said, while Y/N heard shuffling in the background. “See you later Ms. Allen.” Y/N said chuckling to herself. “You too.”

Y/N sat on the cuddled into her blankets as she clicked play on her TV remote. As soon as the show started, there was knock on the front door. Y/N was confused, was it Liz? She got up to answer the door.

Y/N opened the door, do just her body was seen. She was greeted with the smiling yet nervous face of Peter Parker, holding a bouquet of red roses with a backpack on his back and a couple grocery bags filled with chips, candy and other snacks. Y/N stood in front of him, lips parted slightly.

“P-Peter. What are you doing here?” She asked with wide eyes. Peter glanced down at his old shoes. “I heard that you were, uh,” he looked back up at her, “I heard you were spending the night in on-on Homecoming so, I wanted to join you. If that’s okay.” He stammered biting his bottom lip.

Y/N smiled widely, opening the door all the way. “Come on in.” If it was anyone else at the door, she would’ve probably made up an excuse. But it wasn’t anyone else, it was her crush. Peter smiled back. He walked through the door, waiting for her to indicate where he could go.

Y/N shut the door and moved to face him. Peter looked at the flowers in his hand, “These are f-for you.” He handed you the flowers.

The girl smiled, “Thanks Pete.” She called me Pete, was all he could think about as Y/N went to put the flowers in a vase. She quickly came back after putting the vase in a good spot.

“You can sit down Peter.” Y/N said as he followed her to the couch.

“Seems like you were having a real party, huh?” Peter said sarcastically with a small smile on his lips, seeing the TV and her blankets. “What gave it away?” Y/N replied back with the same amount of sarcasm.

“I brought food.” Peter emptied out the two grocery bags with the snacks onto the couch between the two of them. Y/N smiled. Tonight was going to be fun.

Peter turned and looked at the clock to see it was one in the morning. All night was spent with him and Y/N getting to know each other,cracking jokes, and watching bad late night TV shows. It was like they had known each other for their entire lives. She fell asleep a while ago, her head resting on Peter’s chest, with a blanket wrapped securely around the pair. He sat there, playing with her hair, glad that he skipped Homecoming. Peter sighed contently, looking back up at the TV which now had the news on. A robbery at fifth and third. “Shit,” he muttered, moving Y/N off of his chest and onto the couch.

He dashed out her front door with only his backpack in hand, with his Spider-Man suit inside.

Y/N woke up 10 the next morning still on the couch, with all the snacks from last night littering the floor. It was fun hanging out with Peter. She was kind of happy that she didn’t spend Homecoming alone. She searched for her phone to check the time. Once she found the device she saw a text from Peter.

Hey, sorry I had to leave. My Aunt called me and said that I had to go back home. Maybe we can do this again sometime at my place?

Y/N smiled at the text. Maybe I can get the guy of my dreams, she thought as she typed a reply.

Yeah, that’d be awesome.

anonymous asked:

Hey you don’t need to answer this I just wanna let you know that I appreciate your blog and the info you put out. From what I see, you always credit sources. Keep doing what you’re doing ☺️

Thank you dear for being informed and not just jump to conclusions. That aside let me give the ones who do not know how I credit or are new to my blog how it’s done. I included recent posts because it seems even after seeing those some people can’t see it: 

There are many ways to credit, and I credit in different ways depending on the nature of the post. Tumblr has the option of adding the source of the post. That’s how Tumblr asks us to credit and that’s how I do it most of the times. because 1: it makes you find the original post easier as it redirects you to the original owner and thus you can then follow and support them. (post HERE)

I can add their page name + link when it’s an edit or a fansite (lately this is how I have been doing it)

When there are many people to credit I search and try to credit them all (post HERE)

Some people credit by adding links in the words in the caption. I do that usually when I make gifs but not commonly for other posts because Tumblr offers the option to delete a caption when you reblog so putting it in the source is the way I am sure the crediting will never be lost (post HERE

T.N: I learned long ago how to make my own gifs and I use other ones in posts that come from Tumblr’s library and use them legally with crediting

For news too I add the source. So how do we get the info like the one below? There is something called Media relations. It refers to the relationship that BIGHIT develops with journalists. Basically, the communication department in BigHit informs journalists that write an article and that’s how we know. Sometimes some journalist gets the info wrong or tries to gain bad fame by saying lies and make their post popular (yes I know, it’s sad. Some people can’t work hard on their own so they lie and try to use someone’s else name). As someone who gives you updates, I get my info from journalists or trustable armys that got the info from them. When it turns to be untrue, I make another post explaining that it was just a lie. 

This blog offer updates that mostly come from another source. It’s normal I am not the owner of it. It’s like you go to ALLKPOP and tell them, take off all your content it’s repost. Does that make sense? When I posts memes I make sure the name is not cropped away, that’s also the same way people on Twitter credit me (because A LOT of my content end up there too. And not just Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, weibo … ) many of my content end up being translated to many languages too and I get soooo happy when other ARMYs get to enjoy it.

AND For this part of the same person going around saying I am Kboo (they are like 3 people but got all the day to send hate asks. or they send ‘please tell me what is kboo, or they say ‘I heard mimi was getting hate what is it) 

So about this post this person contacted me and I told them the following 

But they still kept going around spreading fake rumors. At the time it was all over the American news that North Korea was going to attack. And Americans were joking about it. Now thinking about it, in the long term and out of that time and context it can be used the way this hater used it. As for the whole post many ARMYs liked it and for a looooong time no one found any problem with it until this person made its meaning turn this way (this is the post btw HERE At the time I received many asks from armys being nervous about BTS going to the bbmas and that’s how the idea came to me to make that post. So we can cheer up and say that everything will be fine )

Just after I answered them and edited my post they didn’t answer me again but they went celebrating saying they have an impact. And they felt important. They never felt bad for any race, they weren’t protecting anyone just wishing for someone to notice them here because no one knows them through their blog never made it. They have been talking about this day and night trying to plot how to bring hate

Their goals are to hate on everyone and make content creators delete their posts. The same content creators that make posts about BTS and updates to help this fandom. This is the one who started it even her name have “ANTI” in it. What did you expect? also she is HOMOPHOBIC (not just against ships) and hate JIKOOK shippers

When she found nothing to hate on and realized pple are seeing the truth she went to attack my dear followers aka a big part of the ARMY fandom in this blog 

Aside from Jikook shippers she says she wants to beat up all shippers. Seriously, guys, this is the person you have been believing. creating an account and turning all our fandom here into a war when we could be enjoying waiting for Mic Drop tmrw

After people called her out for her lies and why she bullies blogs and spread hate and thinks people are dumb to believe every screenshot she puts and paints another color. She changed her URL.That’s what she does. Start inner fanwars and then change her URL like nothing happened. If she was really honest will she do that?

For this post below, it was edited in a way to make me pass for a colorist or something. At the time haters started rumors about BTS saying they were colorists. I made a post explaining the situation. This person didn’t understand my point. At the time I wanted to keep the positivity, and the post who was trying to correct ideas took other proportions about the term so I decided to take it down. To not let the people in the comments feel ‘shut down’ I decided to contact them and told them ‘i will turn the article private/delete it if you want to discuss the situation more I will be glad. One of my followers was happy and we talked peacefully. Another one was no matter what I said had this idea that I was against them. I kept telling them I understand their point and that colorism is bad we should never judge someone on their skin or show favoritism. They used a definition that was not fitting if we wanted to talk about colorism is Korea. I told them I was very pale and was bullied for it in the past so I know how it feels to get treated that way. The discussion with that person was going nowhere, it was like I was talking a wall. So I just told them. I will end the discussion here. But that person took the discussion and edited out to make me look bad. If they read this I hope they post the whooooole thing. 

That person was using this definition. the first one that pops up on google when you write the term and said they did their research

I was trying to tell them that the term today is used both ways. For example in some countries, you are insulted for being pale. but they really edited that out to make me look arrogant. If I was arrogant will I even contact them to ask for their opinion? Why would I care about a comment if I was arrogant? My followers know how I always answer even replies when someone sends me a message I answer them too. Why is it easy to believe lies? That same person received a lot of hate because of that post because at the time people knew what I was talking about and people were telling them to stop their lies. Now they and the people above found each other and started this comedy. That person who edited the discussion was defending and saying how BTS are racist and colorists. Now, look at that plot twist!

Untrue: I made a post explaining the situation that antis used against our boys

I work hard on this blog and I never complain because I love seeing the smiles on many of my dear follower’s faces. I slept 1 hour a night lately because of the recent updates (but I am using a facemask now, that thing IS LIFE). I still had to carry my IRL schedule too. I am someone who loves to spread love. I always invite to respect all religions, races, cultures … I always felt proud to say how ARMY is so diverse and how the love to BTS made us hold each other’s hands no matter where we came from. I will continue being kind and refuse to hate anyone here. When I don’t feel like someone is worth it and I don’t want to see them in my dash I block them (easy peasy). It’s not mean to block someone, it’s mean to start fake rumors and try to bring down a fellow army who is just here to help. My parents thought me to not judge on words or faces or situations. And Just like I wished some months ago my dear Muslim followers ‘Happy Ramadan’ this time for anyone enjoying this beautiful day with dear ones: Happy Thanksgiving guys. I am happy to be part of ARMY and even the dark side of this fandom I embrace it fully, one day they will hopefully listen to BTS’ lyrics and message and learn that bullying is bad. BTS in the past were said to be racist. They were said that they copied all their concepts and music but look at them now. Good people end up going places, bad ones stay in a hole forever.

Ah, tomorrow in Mic Drop Remix right! oooooooh boi I will enjoy it! If you hear someone screaming in excitement tmrw it’s probably me HAHAHAH (this is how I laugh btw I never use KKKKKKK What even is that HAHAHHAHA. I am like a One Piece character IRL tho I have waaaaay better options I laugh in all different ways Hohohoho hihihihi GAGAGAGAG KOKOOOOKO KEKEKEKEEEEE PWAHAHA PWHIHIHI WTH is that HAHHAHAHHA It’s just laughing. OMG this whole situation is stupid - #LOVE YOURSELF #LOVE MYSELF #END VIOLENCE #DON’T BELIEVE ANONS HIDING BEHIND LIES YOU ARE A SMART PERSON USE YOUR BRAIN)

T/N: I have aaaaaall the receipts. I am an inspector ARMY and if you have seen my analysis you will know how crazy detailed I am. Once I start my research it’s insane (find my BS&T jpn vrs analysis HERE and Pied Piper HERE and Not Today that I made just when I created this blog HERE). So me not naming the ones starting those rumors is for two reasons: 1- I prefer to give publicity to artists, writers, amazing content creators … not someone who is untalented and mean. 2- I am into positivity and positive people. I talked to them, and took away all the content that they say made them angry but they still asked me to delete my blog then went after that telling their friends “oh wow look at my impact I made Mimi such a big blog delete” then gathered their 3 friends and wrote anon asks for blogs who unfortunately didn’t check the facts and jumped to conclusions. They also took my words out of context to edit them out just like in the past people did to BTS (the irony). These same people reblogged half of my posts and get all their updates from my blog but go ask people to ignore my content. Basically, they are using everyone, making this fandom fight each other and laugh it out loud.  Will you believe an anon hiding or a blogger that dedicates herself to this fandom? you choose dear ^^ either way. In my heart even now, I hold no hate just a tiny bit of pity toward the ones who live such a life.

I will keep spreading positivity and smiles. I have a very tight relationship with my followers and I believe fake rumors will not break it. LOVE YOU ARMY! LOVE YOU ALL! 

I want to add one little thing: I am a human too, I make my mistakes and that’s how I learn. I never intend or intended to harm anyone and I am remorseful if you felt that way. Truly. In the matters above. I now believe those topics are something I should not tackle easily and I will never make any remarks like that nor touch any of the subjects above. I am just someone who wants to love and help, believe me. I do much social work irl too that if you knew of you will laugh at these people accusing me. Thus, I will learn more and research more on the subjects above and try to educate myself properly on these various matters because I don’t want to be the person who thinks she never does anything wrong. Those people above attacked me and falsely accused me, but this is a chance for me to grow as a person and learn more about the subjects above. Thank you for anyone who is giving me great advice. 

And for the liars that don’t seem to have a life, I dedicate MIC DROP to you “There is no need to meet again (I already blocked you), this is my final goodbye. There is nothing to say, don’t even apologize. You will see you will end up like that. I am piecing, with my mutuals and followers like coke. Your corneas are shocked *MIC DROP* 

ALL LOVE! 

All Our Secrets Laid Bare (Part One)

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Prompt: The reader’s nosy (and quite rude) relatives are coming over for an unexpected family dinner. Long story short, they expect the reader to have a boyfriend, which the reader most definitely does not have. Luckily, they do have a best friend by the name of Peter Parker. One small favor wouldn’t be too much to ask, right?

Warnings: Some angst towards the end.

Word Count: 3,524

A/N: The reader doesn’t know Peter is Spider-Man in this imagine.
Also, I’m sorry if there are any grammatical errors. My usual beta reader wasn’t available and I really wanted to get this imagine posted.
Enjoy!

Part Two / Part Three

Originally posted by hardyness

“You’re my boyfriend now.”

“I-I’m sorry, what?” Peter stammered back through the phone.

This was not how you planned this day to go.

“It’s a long story. Nosy relatives coming over for dinner, may have lied and said I had a boyfriend just to get them to shut up, don’t actually have a boyfriend, typical family stuff, you know?” you tried to explain.

There was a slight pause as Peter digested all of the information you just threw at him.

“Okay, so basically, you broke under pressure and lied about have a boyfriend, and now you need me to be your boyfriend to protect you from your nosy relatives?” repeated Peter.

You rolled your eyes, perfectly aware that Peter couldn’t see them through the phone call, but positive that he felt the frustration anyway, “I didn’t break under pressure, I just… improvised.”

“Oh yeah, totally,” said Peter, voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “So do you need me to be your boyfriend or not?”

Keep reading

Study Hard {Sirius Black x Reader *SMUT*}

I think this is the third time I posted this. It keeps on getting deleted for some reason so i’m sorry if it’s popping in and out of your dashboard. 

Sincerely,

Nat Meg.

Request: Can you make a young Sirius x reader smut? Like he wants some attention and that’s what he gets

WARNING: sexual themes, rough

@iwillpoundyoumikey @all-the-hp-love


Enjoy!

Time had passed by quite fast and (Y/n) have been unaware of this. She had been studying for hours upon hours, her mind completely immersed in every lesson and chapter. She was normally not this studious and would rather read other books, preferably something intriguing and not the names of every plant that could heal a doxy’s bite if it weren’t for her N.E.W.T.S.


(Y/n) took a deep breath and was about to flip to the next page when she heard loud voices coming from the doorway.

“Got it from a muggle store! I told them I wanted one of those black dragonskin jackets and no questions asked and voila, they gave it to me!” Sirius bragged loudly to his housemates who were all awed. He straightened his brand new leather jacket and ran his fingers through his hair, making the ladies squeal, but he had one girl in mind.

He approached you from behind the couch where you sat, resting his chin on your shoulder before giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Hello, love. Haven’t seen you all day,” he smiled, “What’re you reading?”

“Healing herbs,” (Y/n) replied.

Sirius immediately picked up the humorless tone in your voice and so he brushed the back of his fingers on your cheek, gently turning your face to meet his eyes.

“But you’ve been studying all the day. I missed you.” He tucked your hair affectionately behind your ear.

“I know, sweetheart. I just need to study for the exams.”

Sirius tilted his head, something that made your heart melt and swell.

“Maybe you should read someplace else, mm? So you could um…concentrate better?” His voice lowered, thick with lust but (Y/n) did not notice.

The common room was now full of other students, loudly chattering, so it was no longer a quiet place to study. Maybe Sirius has a point. Oblivious to his intentions, (Y/n) smiled and nodded.

A different scenery might just help a lot and to be with Sirius would certainly help her study better since he was great in almost every class. She closed her book while Sirius followed her from behind, eyeing her short skirt as she climbs up the stairs to their dormitory.

He closed the door gently, locking it with a spell. (Y/n) sat down on one of the beds and opened her book to where she left off but Sirius had a different idea in mind.

He transformed himself into his animagus form, a large black dog with his neck tie as a red collar, before walking up to the bed where you sat. He sniffed your socks and began to tickle your toes with his nose.

“Sirius! Tsk, no!” You pulled away, tucking your legs to your chest. “I’m not in the mood.”

The dog whined and hopped onto the bed, continuously sniffing you and licking your hands but seeing as you were definitely not giving up easily, he took the book from you and dashed under the bed.

“Sirius! Get back here! I am not playing games!”

This only made him happier so he wagged his tail and ran around the room while you chased him. It went for a few minutes with you casting spells and charms to make him stop but he was quicker. After a few hexes, however, you managed to knock him out. He slowly transformed back into his human form, his back against the wall with your book between his teeth.

You took it from him and he smirked once more, “Still gonna study, love?”

With a shake of your head, you replied to him and gave a sigh, “I believe not. I won’t be able to pay attention anymore.”

“Then have it on me.”

He kissed you deeply and pulled you against his chest, his hands on your waist. You kissed him back with the equal amount of adoration and pure lust, tasting him, feeling him. His tongue began to lick your lips and even felt brave enough to slide inside your mouth, coaxing your tongue to come out and play. You moaned softly against his hardening length before whispering close to his ear.

“Was this your plan all along? To distract me?” You teased, “ Because if it is…”

You wrapped your hand around his neck tie, pulling him close before licking a long stripe from his jaw to the shell of his ear.

“You’ve been a very bad dog.”

Sirius was beyond aroused. His cock stiffened and he could not contain it any longer. He needed attention and you were going to give it to him whether you liked it or not. He did not need anymore teasing. He wanted the main event, the highlight, the damn fucking main dish.

He swiftly removed his jacket and shirt, revealing his toned chest before ripping away your blouse, leaving it as a torn piece of fabric lying on the floor. You immediately jumped and he caught you by the thighs, continuing his hot kisses on your throat. He nipped your skin softly, leaving you moaning and grinding against his hard on.

“Mm, I feel you, love. So sweet.”

He skillfully unhooked your bra and had you pressed against the wall, his mouth now trailing down from your collarbone to the top of your breasts. He began to suck on your skin, marking you as his own, leaving hickeys behind. They would surely stay for days just like last time but at this point, you were sure that everybody knows who they belong to. He gave you a quick peck and moved to your nipples, sucking it into his mouth. He flicked it with his tongue while his other hand groped your other breast, making you moan louder.

“A-Ah, Sirius…T-That feels…good,”

“Come on, sweetheart. Onto the bed,“

He commanded. You headed towards the nearest bed and laid down, sprawled out on the sheets with heaving breaths. Sirius crawled on top of you slowly like a hungry predator approaching its prey, his eyes staring back at you. It sent shivers down your spine to see him so primal and wild but it also excited you as you have never seen him like this before. He hovered above you and tugged your skirt down, removing it completely. His eyes landed on your panties and the wet spot that had now formed on the cloth.

“Is that for me, darling?”

“Yes, Sirius.”

“Mm, love it when you say my name,” He knelt down between your legs and spread them apart. “I would love it more if you screamed it.”

He quickly removed your panties and dove into your womanhood, tasting the juices that trickled down. Your hand automatically went to his hair, grabbing a fistful. His fingers moved to your opening, his thumb pressing into your clit in such a way that made you writhe beneath his merciless tongue and fingers.

“Oh, Sirius! Mm…”

He licked up and down slowly, making sure you enjoy every second he dragged his tongue across your folds. You were already soaking by the time he stuck two of his fingers inside you, you gripping the sheets hard. He kept his pace quick and fast, allowing them to slide in and out of you easily until you were nearing your climax. That’s when he had to stop and kiss your lips to taste you once more.

“Please don’t tease me anymore. I want you so bad.”

You did not need to say it again. Sirius removed his pants and boxers and pumped his thick cock in front of you. You couldn’t help but admire the way he bit his lip as he pleasured himself before slicking your folds with his pre-cum. He gently pushed in, savoring every inch that entered your tight cavern, moaning so quietly until he bottomed out. He pulled all the way and thrusted back once more, creating a slow rhythm that had you wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Ugh, so tight, m’ dear! Feels so fucking good. And it’s all for me.”


He growled. He rested his elbows on the mattress and started increasing his speed. He thrusted hard and fast, driven to feel the need to you make come. You were his princess, his queen, and his goddess and deserved nothing but the best. The bed began to squeak and scratch the floor, no doubt leaving behind marks. He was slamming himself inside you and could not care less of the damage the two of you caused in the room. You were entrapped in this moment of intense pleasure and passion the man you loved.


After a few more minutes, Sirius pulled out and carried you to the top of the bed where you were close to the wall.

“Come on, baby. I want you on your hands and knees,”

You sat up and positioned yourself before him, your arse in front of him.


“So nice for me, love. That’s a good girl.”


He slid back inside you and continued thrusting, his pace quicker than ever. He soon began to hit your g-spot and it was at this moment, you were already moaning and screaming. Your insides were clenching onto him tight as you were pushed near your climax.


“Ahh! S-Sirius! Oh my God,” you screamed, “A-Ah! I’m so close!”

“Oh, love. Yes! Do it for me, baby. Come for me. Doing so well!”

He gave your arse a loud smack before draining thick spurts of his cum inside you while you released as well. It was the best climax you’ve ever had and even though you were not his first, Sirius admitted that no one had ever made him cum that much. He panted heavily as though he ran for miles before pulling out and lying beside you.

“That was…amazing,” He smiled, pulling a blanket and covering the two of you.

“Mm, I enjoyed it.” You replied, giggling. You scooted close to him and rested your head on his chest, your fingers tracing circles on his skin. He yawned wide and kissed your forehead softly.

“I promise you we’ll study tomorrow. No more distractions.”

The two of you soon fell fast asleep, all safe and sound.



“Blimey, Padfoot, you could’ve at least had the decency to clean up. All your clothes are on my bed,” James scolded.

“And my lamp’s broken! Even the drawers are a mess!”  Peter complained.

“Trust me, boys, both of you have the least damage,” Remus sighed and wiped his face with his hand frustratedly. “At least you don’t have scratches on your walls and floors.”

“What can I say? We study hard,” Sirius replied with a grin.

Without 🛋️

A/N: This piece is very long and has taken me a long time to write for several reasons. But I hope this is what these lovely people hoped for when they sent in their requests (x x x)! Love you all and I hope you have a great day :)

Harry had always been in awe of you.  

From the moment he had you in his life, his heart had been filled with your gentle compassion. He had admired your instinctive kindness, personally witnessing the way you’d give a piece of your heart to everyone in your life. “Being kind is all that I can give” he’d hear you say and it breaks him just a little when he watches your smile falter for a fraction of a second, before you arch your eyes and nod your head slightly towards him in reassurance. You’re doing it again, he gathers, putting up a front to satisfy the people around you. Making sure they remained lost in their pursuit of happiness while you’re left alone to pick up your own shattered pieces.

Harry had regretted that night the most. The first, of many, where your heart felt particularly heavy as you smiled and whispered “I’m fine” to his concerned eyes. The silk of your dress clumped at your shoulders as you walked away from him then, away from a night of celebrating your recent promotion at work and into a cab to nurse your friend that had gulped too much tequila to shove away his own misfortunate thoughts.

Keep reading

Something They Don’t Know

Prompt: In which Daveed Diggs is asked how he comes up with his lyrics during an interview. Told in his POV.

Warning: Smut.

A/N: Day 5 of the write-a-thon. Of course I would post this early when all I’ve been complaining about is not having enough time to write. Oh well. Also, I’m sure Nadeska Alexis is a cool girl, I just needed her to behave this certain way to get the story going. Enjoy!


Daveed slips his phone into his pocket and stood to give Nadeska Alexis a handshake once she enters the dressing room, Lin’s advice on how to handle the tricky reporter reverberating in his mind. Having done the Complex interview with Chance previously, he warned him about her ruthlessness and her inclination to pry for scandalous information she could share with her readers. Lin told Daveed to be polite, courteous, and above all, smile through the “little white lies” he would have to tell.

“Mr. Diggs, it’s unfortunate that the rest of the crew couldn’t make it,” she says, turning on her recorder and sliding it on the table that separated them, “but I’m glad you were able to come in despite the late notice.”

Daveed lets out a nervous chuckle when she ignores his gesture, his hand still awkwardly hovering between the two of them, and opts to bring out her notebook and pen from her purse instead. He was never the best with interviews, especially when he was by himself, dressed in clothes he couldn’t afford and sitting in a room that was too sophisticated for his tastes. He wished William and Jonathan were here – they understood his ineptness when it came to talking to new people and would definitely take over the interview. But since they couldn’t, he had to man up and promote the new album releasing in a week.

Nadeska sits, and Daveed follows suit, watching as she flips to a page full of questions that she’s prepared. Luckily, the first few questions were predictable –  how he adjusted to life after Hamilton, his role in Blackish, the release of the album, and the upcoming tour -  all he could answer easily and truthfully. But when she suddenly leans forward, a gleam in her eyes that screamed trouble, Daveed knew it was time to make use of Lin’s advice: smile through the little white lies. 

“So, clipping doesn’t exactly have the most innocent songs,” Nadeska hums, choosing her words carefully, “and some of them require a repeat listen. Your lyrics are curt but very complex, Mr. Diggs.  Mind if I throw a few lines at you to elaborate on? And if you could perhaps share what, or who,inspired you to write them?”

Keep reading

Headlines - Peter Parker

request -  I LOVE YOU WRITINGS Can you PLEASE write a fic were peter takes his s/o on dates to the tops of buildings as spider man a lot to the point were people beging looking for spider-man girlfriend and pictures of them start showing up on websites and news broadcasts 

a/n - i’ve gotten multiple requests to write this kind of fic, and i hope it doesn’t disappoint and is a flop like me anyways don’t forget to request a fic if you’d like or follow! also peter looks like he’s listening to a pretty funky beat in the gif LMAOOOOO

The sun was setting over Queens after the clock struck seven in the evening. My back was pressed up against Peter’s chest, breathing in the view as he was holding me close by. His mask was in my lap as his chin rested on my shoulder, rocking me from side to side.

Sitting at the roof of a busy building in town was a bit of a risk, but somehow Peter and I were willing to make such an attempt. During times together like these, he would become so equipped and steady to grab him mask at any point and run off with me, keeping our affair a secret as best as he could.

I leaned back even more and look up at his face, only being able to see his cheeks. I chuckled as he looked down, pressing a kiss on my lips as a smile melted onto his face as well. Our hearts were both jumping from mile to mile until Peter broke the kiss, putting his mask on within a second.

“What happened?” I asked while he put my hood up.

Keep reading

“Jack,” Bitty whines, throwing his head back. “I am so tired. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Come on, Bits. You’re almost there,” Jack says encouragingly.

“But I’m so sleepy,” Bitty complains. “My arms are heavy. My fning—ah!” Bitty huffs. “My fingers hurt. Listen, I’m slurrin’ all my words.”

“Look at me.”

Bitty spins the desk chair to look at Jack, and pouts.

“You do look tired.” Jack gazes at him, eyes narrowing.

So tired,” Bitty professes. “I’ll finish up tomorrow.”

Jack sighs. “That essay is due at nine am.”

Bitty bites his lip. He’s well aware of that. “Sleep though, Jack. Sleep.”

“You hate waking up early,” Jack points out with a raised eyebrow.

“Once every now and then is fine.” Bitty tries to say it with conviction.

Jack puts his bookmark in his paperback. “How long until you’re finished?” Jack asks. “Referenced and proof-read finished, not first draft finished,” he adds before Bitty can reply.

Bitty shuts his mouth against his automatic response of twenty minutes.

“Uh… Maybe an hour?”

Jack checks the time on his watch, which he’d placed on the bedside table earlier.

“Alright.” Jack stands up and stretches, then gestures for Bitty to come over to him.

“Thank god,” Bitty mutters under his breath, saving his document and shutting the laptop without powering down.

He drags his body over to Jack’s and falls into him. He wraps his arms around his boyfriend and presses his face into Jack’s chest, breathing deeply. He loves how Jack smells. Like soap, and his deodorant, and a little bit of sweat.

Jack’s hands crawl up Bitty’s back, under his shirt, and he rocks Bitty gently side-to-side. Bitty swears he could fall asleep just like this.

Then Jack’s hands start to wander; down to Bitty’s ass, slipping under the elastic of his track pants. Bitty shivers as Jack’s nails scratch the skin, and when he leans back to ask Jack what he’s doing, Jack kisses him.

Normally, when Jack initiates, it’s soft—he appreciates a slow build up. Tonight is different. Jack pushes against Bitty immediately, leaning into him and over him so that Bitty’s body curves back harshly, and Jack seems even taller than normal.

Jack kisses and kisses, his lips moving and sucking on Bitty’s with fervour. Bitty matches him, suddenly wide-awake, and his hands move to bury themselves in Jack’s hair as he attempts to meld his lips to Bitty’s.

“Oh my god. Jack,” Bitty pants and Jack moves on, kissing harshly down his jawline. Bitty’s lips feel swollen and tender when he bites down on one.

Jack pulls back and smiles down, flushed, eyes alight. “How do you feel?”

“I don’t know,” Bitty confesses breathlessly, still reeling from the enthusiasm and spontaneity.

“Awake?” Jack asks.

Bitty nods frantically. “Oh yeah. Definitely. Yes.”

“Good.” Jack steps back from Bitty, and grabs his shoulders to turn him around. He leans in close, chest pressing against Bitty’s shoulders, and puts his lips against Bitty’s ear. “Now, go finish your essay.”

Jack shoves a speechless Bitty back toward the desk.

Keep reading

You’ll Float Too [Bill Skarsgård/Pennywise x Fem!Reader]

A/n: Well guys, I’ve finally made the foray into the fold. Done are the days I simply reblog for this fandom– look out for some more Bill or Penny x readers coming. It’s the first day of Halloween today, so be prepared, I’m spoopily inspired :) 

Warnings: Hint of dub-con. Brief smut. Sexy clowns.


“Bill?”

Your feet barely make a sound against the floorboards as you carefully trek out of the bedroom. Your husband, Bill Skarsgård, had told you he would just be a moment– that the noise was probably just the broken furnace in the old house you two had just bought. This was, of course, after you had so abruptly been interrupted.

“Fuck, baby,” you had whispered, grinding against him and dipping down to slip your tongue back into his mouth.

“Look at how wet you are for me,” he had growled, fingers curling up inside of you mercilessly as his thumb rubbed your clit. You bounce on his fingers, one leg on either side of his own long ones.

“Bill, I-” you gasp, squealing as he readjusted his hand, shoving his fingers even deeper.

“Love feeling that pussy squeeze around me…” he tugged you down, licking his fingers off with a pop. “Love feeling it around my dick.”

“I’ve got something else in mind,” you grinned, moving the covers down to brush your lips against his clothed, hardened cock.

“Fuck,” he breathed in turn, breath hitching as you give a lick through his pyjama pants. That was when the noise had sounded.

Your head had popped up. “What was-”

“That?” he echoed at the same time.

“It’s probably the rain,” you murmur, “The thunderstorm is loud.”

“Sure… but rain or no rain, if that fucking piece of shit of a furnace is broken again, I’m gonna-” You envelop his lips again, but he groans, softly pushing you off. “Here, I’ve gotta fix the thing, I don’t wanna freeze all night. I’ll be back in a second, babe,” he had promised, kissing your forehead. You had smiled, and tugged at his loose pyjama pants from the bed.

“You’d better be. I want these off.”

A smirk your way, and he had dashed off downstairs.

Now, it had been a long while, and you hadn’t heard him answer any of your calls for him.

Coming to the door of the basement, you open it cautiously.

“Bill, where are you?” You tug his oversized “cast” T-shirt he had kept from Allegiant further down over your panties. It was cold down here, and– you gasp. The basement was flooded. Was the thunderstorm really that bad?

“Bill,” you hiss, “I hate it down here… did you fix the furnace?!”

You hear a ripple in the water, and swallow, taking another step down. “Hey… can you hear me? It’s still freezing, it must not be wor-” You stop, and gaze around. There’s no sign of your husband. You turn, and bite your lip. Maybe he’s upstairs in the kitchen, and he faked the furnace just to get a midnight snack…

No, but you were about to go down on him. The day Bill evaded a blow job for the last slice of carrot cake in your fridge was the day hell froze over.

Speaking of freezing over… You shiver again, and begin to take two stairs at a time up– until you hear another ripple, and a small splash.

“Bill?” you repeat for the billionth time, sighing as you turn back. “What are you– oh!” You find Bill standing by the far wall, up to his knees in water.

“What are you doing?” you ask incredulously, clutching your heart at the startle. He just stares at you. “What the fuck are you looking at?” you ask playfully, and smack your ass with a small smile. “Come up and get it.” You bite your lip and turn toward the door, but Bill doesn’t follow. You huff. “I’m getting a towel for you. No way I’m letting you in the bed with soaking legs.” He still makes no move. “Bill!! Come on!”

This time, he smiles.

“But (y/n),” he says quietly, “If you come with me… you’ll float too.”

“What?” you mutter, and then you roll your eyes so far back you’re sure they’ve hit the front of your brain. “Oh Christ. Your movie line? Really? My husband played a killer clown, I’m not scared of anything.” You let out a laugh that seems out of place in the eerie, dripping basement. “Stop being a dork and come with me, will you?” You hold out a hand, making a grabby motion.

He takes a step forward. “You’ll float too.”

“Only if you provide the finest duck floaties,” you tease, grinning, “AND poolside cocktails.”

“You’ll float too.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s nice, let’s g-”

“You’ll float too,” he begins to laugh, and you frown.

“Bill, st-”

“You’ll float too!” his voice takes on a giggly pitch, then his face changes. “You’ll float too, you’ll float too, you’ll float too-”

You back away, and your eyes widen as Bill’s face slowly begins to peel off, revealing flesh and teeth and bone. “You’ll float too! You’ll float too!” His voice is now low, demonic, and his eyes are clouding over as blood runs from them.

“Baby,” you breathe, a tear running down your cheek. He was decomposing right before your eyes, and you could do nothing about it– it was the most horrible thing you’d ever seen.

“You’ll float TOO! YOU’LL FLOAT TOO!” he begins to shout, eyes blazing as his mouth falls open.

“Stoppit!” you scream, and hide your eyes, clutching the railing. You suddenly hear silence, so you look up. There, in place of Bill, is Pennywise the fucking dancing clown, grinning over at you.

What the fuck?

“You smell lovely,” he titters, biting his lip with those sharp teeth you saw Bill take in and out during shooting. You could tell from the reflection of the water he was drooling, too. “So, so lovely, little girl.”

“Bill?” you ask softly, because really, it’s all you’ve remembered by way of words.

Bill? Bill?” Pennywise mocks, shaking himself violently, “Where are you?! It’s cold, and I’m such a slut that I can’t wait five minutes for you to fuck me!” He arches his back, mimicking your moans from upstairs, and you gasp.

“That’s right,” he giggles gleefully, “You don’t think I can smell i-t?” He takes a deep breath. “Mmmmm, I smelled it on him before I snapped his spine!”

“No,” you sob, and the clown glares.

“Yes! You smell good. Special. Like nothing I’ve ever taste-d… I want to taste you.”

You clench your jaw. Your legs are shaking, but… those eyes, boring down on you… they couldn’t… be doing things to you, could they? Suddenly, you’re disgusted with yourself.

“Are you scared?” he laughs, half to himself. “I do hope so. That will make it taste so much better.”

“Why?” you breathe shakily, “Why are you here?”

“Because,” Pennywise growled, “Just like your precious Bill said, before he died in agony…” The clown’s eyes lit up, glowing. “YOU’LL FLOAT TOO!” It came out as an otherworldly scream, and suddenly, Pennywise was lurching at you, slamming you onto the staircase and tossing open your legs–

“AH!” you shriek, and open your eyes. The room is dark, and the covers over you are strewn around. Bill turns over beside you, brow crinkling as he blinks open his own eyes.

“Hey… what’s going on?” He yawns. “You okay?”

“I,” you murmur, then start crying. He wakes himself fully up now, leaning over and cradling your head.

“Hey… hey, hey, you’re okay,” he’s frowning, concerned, as he pulls you into his arms, “You’re okay… whatever it was, it was just a dream, (y/n).”

“You were… but you were–” you try to articulate, sobbing uncontrollably. Bill, with all his facial features still perfectly intact, stares down at you earnestly.

“Hey. Just a dream. Okay? I’ve got you. I’m okay. See? I’m here.” His soft voice lulls you back into a calm state, and you clutch his arms and bury your face in his chest. Maybe his movie had gotten to you more than you thought… and the secret you had kept from him that you actually found him attractive in his costume.

He lays you back down, and strokes your hair back, whispering how much he loves you in your ear. You never want to let go… sleep begins to take you again.

Bill looks down at your sleeping form, and adjusts his head on the pillow, turning over. You make no move to wake up. He closes his eyes, then they open again slowly to reveal yellow orbs. As you fall asleep, you think you hear a gentle giggle, but it was just a dream… just a dream…

5

July’s Featured Game: SLARPG

DEVELOPER(S): Bobby “ponett” Schroeder
ENGINE: RPGMaker VX Ace 
GENRE: RPG, Fantasy
SUMMARY: SLARPG is a short, turn-based RPG following the story of Melody Amaranth, a kindhearted but meek transgender fox who’s decided to learn healing magic and become a paladin. She’s joined by her adventurous girlfriend Allison, as well as their friends Claire (a sarcastic, rule-bending witch)(she is also trans) and Jodie (a dependable, somewhat motherly knight). Over the course of the story, our inexperienced heroes will meddle with forces beyond their control and find themselves responsible for the fate of their quaint little hometown. They’ll also fight some spherical frogs, travel to a forgotten land in the sky, befriend a robot or two, and anger the local librarian. But that should go without saying. 

Our Interview With The Dev Team Below The Cut!

Keep reading

Missing

Summary: In which you go missing and it turns Eggsy’s world upside down.

Pairing: Eggsy x Reader

Word Count: 3,196

A/N: Well here it is, my first Eggsy fic. This is all thanks to @writingruna who, after learning that I was thinking about writing for Eggsy, sent me a bunch of requests to help motivate me to do it. It worked and here’s one of those requests.

Originally posted by thetaronblog

The Kingsman never had a rule put in place about agents dating each other. At the time of the organization’s creation, they didn’t feel the need to. Becoming an agent meant making sacrifices. The unspoken assumption was that this meant giving up a chance at falling in love.

That assumption was made on the belief that falling in love with someone outside of Kingsman could only end badly. A relationship was meant to be built on the truth, and telling the truth was one of the many things an agent couldn’t afford to do. Secrecy was the most important aspect of the organization. There was also the fear that personal connections could become liabilities out in the field. What if an agent’s significant other was kidnapped and used as leverage by the enemy? Or worse, killed to exact revenge?

Love was complicated enough on its own. By adding a person’s status as a Kingsman into the mix, that equation suddenly became an unsolvable one.

Keep reading

John Winchester and Child Neglect:  A Comprehensive Study.

It’s been a somewhat divisive subject within the fandom as to what kind of a parent John Winchester was.  Frequently, I see posts pop up on my dash defending John, claiming that he loved his sons and did the best he could under the circumstances.  Others claim John was blatantly abusive.

Well, I think it’s pertinent to lay the matter to rest once and for all:  he undeniably was.

And we needn’t look to subtext for signs of physical abuse, either (though as many others have pointed out, there is plenty there): child neglect is the most common form of child abuse, and it is textually evident throughout the series.

The NSPCC defines the basic needs of children as follows, all of which John gratuitously neglected:

1.  Basic physical care.

The NSPCC maintains that children should be provided with “warmth, shelter, adequate food and rest, grooming (hygiene) and protection from danger.”

Whether or not the various motel rooms they frequented could be equated to proper shelter, John routinely left his sons without enough food to share between them:

Young Dean is shown giving his portion of cereal up for baby Sam, and is later shown to have been forced to resort to stealing in order to feed him.  

Even in his adulthood, when asked if he had ever been “really hungry.  Like, not eaten for days hungry,” Dean emphatically replies that he had. 

The signs of hygienic neglect are slightly more subtle, but also present: after spending the summer without Dean, for example, young Sam is shown in clothes that are obviously too big and unbuttoned at the sleeves.    

And as for “protection from danger?”  Well, unless you count giving your small children loaded firearms, sufficed to say it was nonexistent. 

2.  Affection:

As the NSPCC puts it, healthy affection “includes physical contact, holding, stroking, cuddling and kissing, comforting, admiration, delight, tenderness, patience, time, making allowances for annoying behaviour, and general companionship and approval.”

Obviously, there was a point at which John would have provided his sons with adequate physical affection, but after Mary’s death it appears to be basically nonexistent.  

He is shown to criticize Dean fairly consistently (”I wouldn’t have given you that car if I thought you were going to ruin it”), was unreasonably harsh in response to his childhood shortcomings (e.g. failing to protect Sam from a monster when he was ten), and “leaving him to rot” for the summer at a boy’s home for stealing food at the age of sixteen.

3.  Security:

According to the NSPCC, security constitutes as “continuity of care, the expectation of continuing in the stable family unit, a predictable environment, consistent patterns of care and daily routine, simple rules and consistent controls and a harmonious family group.”

John constantly moved his children from one motel to another for the duration of their childhood.  This prevented his children from formulating any lasting friendships with people their age, the effects of which are most evident in “After School Special:”  Sam is left feeling like “a freak” in comparison to his peers, whereas Dean has already carefully developed his hypermasculine public image.

Moreover, John is predominantly absent in their lives, routinely missing holidays and disappearing for days on end.  Hardly a stable parental figure for the boys to fall back on.   

4.  Stimulation and innate potential: 

The NSPCC defines this as “praise and encouragement; curiosity and exploratory behavior. By developing skills though responsiveness to questions and to play, by promoting educational opportunities.”

Even disregarding John’s blatant discouragement of Sam’s pursuit of higher education, this is most evident in the characteristics of the boys themselves:  

Sam is ambitious, motivated, self-disciplined, and academic.  He prides himself on his ability to succeed in scholastic environments and conduct research, which got him a free ride to an ivy league university at the start of the series.  

These are all characteristics typical of a firstborn child, whereas Dean’s laid-back persona is more typical of a second or third born.  

As others have pointed out, this is because Sam WAS a first born child…to Dean.  

The reason first-borns are typically such high achievers is because their parents treat each success as a momentous occasion, whereas their successors typically garner less attention.  Dean was never praised for his accomplishment by John, whereas Dean provides Sam with a surprising amount of support and encouragement. 

Even John’s journal takes note of this, stating that when Sam took his first steps, he immediately went to Dean.

5.  Guidance and control.  

“To teach adequate social behaviour which includes discipline within the child’s understanding and capacity and which requires patience and a model for the child to copy, for example in honesty and concern and kindness for others.”

John taught Dean how to perform various illegal activities, including credit card fraud and hustling pool. 

This makes it doubly ironic that he reacted so violently to Dean stealing food or getting drunk as a teenager, considering he didn’t exactly set the best standard for upstanding citizenship.  Maybe he was just upset he got caught?

6.  Responsibility. 

“For small things at first such as self-care, tidying playthings or taking dishes to the kitchen and gradually elaborating the decision making that the child has to learn in order to function adequately, gaining experience through his/her mistakes as well as his/her stresses and receiving praise and encouragement to strive to do better.”

This one is a little different, considering John arguably entrusted too much responsibility to children his sons’ age.  Nevertheless, the fact remains that he gave almost no encouragement to the boys for performing these tasks, leading Dean to realize John was possessed when he told him he was proud of him.   

And finally…

7.  Independence. 

“To make his/her own decisions first about small things but increasingly about the various aspects of his/her own life within the confines of the family and society’s codes. Parents use fine judgement in encouraging independence and in letting the child see and feel the outcome of his or her own capacity. Protection is needed, but over-protection is as bad as responsibility and independence too early.”

John militaristically handles his sons, expecting them to be basically subservient to him and to obey his orders at all costs.  He forcibly cut Sam out of his life when he chose to become independent in his adulthood, electing to attend college instead of continue hunting. 

Moreover, Sam is visibly surprised that John let Dean go hunting alone at the age of twenty-six.

In conclusion, the reason I find John Winchester defendists so irksome is not that they demonstrate any real ill will, but that they demonstrate society’s fundamental understanding of what abuse looks like and the forms that it can take.  

Moreover, they demonstrate the popular misconception that because someone is well-intentioned, likable, or even sympathetic under some circumstances, that they cannot be abusive.  

I’m not saying John wasn’t worthy of pity.  I’m not saying he wasn’t without redeeming qualities.  I’m not even saying he didn’t love his sons.

I’m saying that he was, by definition, canonically abusive.  And we, as a fandom, need to acknowledge this fact once and for all.    

izzycat6  asked:

Do you have recommendations for a Klance slowburn fic? (Doesn't really matter if it's an AU)

Friend f r i e n d it’s been ages since I actually got to sit down and read a fic but I’ve read lots of them in the past so you definitely came to the right person :P (I actually wrote one of my own; it’s called Magic Me Some Love and is about Galra!Keith/Magician!Lance in a medieval fantasy setting, if you’re into that.)

Now. Slow burn klance fics that aren’t on pretty much every fic rec list out there already with a minimum of either 60k words or that are unfinished still:

Ignorance Is Bliss by YouAreInAComaWakeUp

As it turns out, learning that your house is haunted makes the ghosts a lot more aggressive. Who knew?
Ah, well. At least one of them is hot. And he’s the less-evil one, too, so that’s always a plus.

>> R E A D  I T  IT’S SO MUCH MORE THAN YOUR AVERAGE GHOST FIC JUST- JUST DO IT JUST ONE CHAPTER D O I T– JS UT FKCIN G D O IOT- -

The Message by Shipstiel

Keith is texted by accident by some idiot one day, and honestly he’s not even sure why he responds. Or why he keeps responding. Yet somehow he finds himself drawn in, and okay, so maybe this fool is mildly entertaining after all. Who would’ve thought.

>>wrong number AU with an extra dash of angst. But if you’ve read any of the other fics this author has written you’ll know that they specialize in fluff and that absolutely shines through in the fic^^

Quest for Altea by fandomlicious

20 years after the legendary sword Voltron was drawn from its stone by Queen Allura, it is stolen and eventually lost in the dangerous Balmeran Forest. To prevent the rogue knight Zarkon, his witch companion Haggar and their army of Galra warriors from claiming the sword and conquering all of Altea, it falls to Lance, with the help of a dark-haired hermit, to embark on the treacherous journey, save his kingdom and reunite his broken family.

>>if you don’t mind OCs that you get to know throughout the fic taking on a more important role, you should totally check out this fic. It’s plot heavy and reads like a published novel :D

Foreign Scenes by bwyn

Lance has been dreaming of travelling since the first time he heard stories from his family as a child. Now, having finally the time and money to do it, he goes on a trip to Europe to see some of the most culturally rich cities on the continent. Except he keeps bumping into the same guy over and over again, in random cities, doing stupid shit, and ultimately dragging Lance into his trouble, too.

>>it’s one of the few fics that I haven’t read personally yet and still won’t hesitate to recommend. lots of my friends have read and praised it, apparently it’s fluffy and fun. it’s absolutely on my to read list :D

Crossroads by manamune

When Keith crashed his Lion into a Galra warship in order to stop it from destroying a solar system, and more importantly, his friends, he was fully prepared to die for it.
What he didn’t prepare for was to wake up in an alternate universe where he and Lance were dating.

>>this one. if you haven’t read it yet, go read it. it was my fav voltron fic for a long long time!!!! it’s got it all, plot, romance, character development, realistic amounts of angst- it’s very very good. 

Drive It Like You Mean It by Zizzani

The Castle of Lions is the venue for the city’s most dangerous illegal street races where drivers come to test the cut of their tires. Lance has long defended his title as champion, but when a newcomer shows up and threatens his position things take an interesting turn.

>>not into cars and street racing AUs? neither am i, my friend, and yet this is one of the best voltron fics i’ve read. trust me when i tell you that you want to read everything written by this author.

Sharps and Accidentals by Zizzani (! unfinished!)

Keith is a talented up and coming violin virtuoso. Lance hates him immediately.
Or an AU in which Lance and Keith both attend the same music university. Keith is deaf. Lance is Trying™.

>>if there is one deaf!AU you should read then it’s this one. it’s really amazing all around - i’ve been following it since 2016 and i still always get excited over e-mail updates.

Ghost of the Future / Shadow of the Past by wittyy_name & Zizzani (! unfinished!)

When Lance is thrown through time, his future self from one year ahead is transported to the past in his place.
-
When Lance is thrown through time, he finds himself one year in the future, in place of the Lance that should be here.

>>WHEN I SAW THAT THESE TWO WRITERS WOULD COLLAB ON A FIC I NEARLY DIED BRUH THESE MIRROR FICS ARE AMAZE JUST LIKE THEIR OTHER FICS

Stick It by noussommeslessquelettes

After a run-in with the law, former national phenom turned delinquent Keith Kogane is forced to return to the regimented world of elite gymnastics, facing old foes and new challenges.

>>!!!!!!!!!! it’s such a good fic!! based on such a good movie!!!!! i’m kinda upset that not more people have read it, it’s good, give it a try, it won’t disappoint^^

Not That Bad by varelsen

A college AU featuring coffee shops, silly rivalries, motorcycles, arcade games, friendships, and lots of warm, fluffy feelings that are both confusing and delightful all at the same time.

>>the summary nails it. also starring socially anxious!keith but despite that he seems pretty in character. it’s amazing and i really love this author’s style of writing :D

He Who Fights Monsters by magisterpavus

In a world where monstrous dragons terrorize humanity daily, the Garrison trains valiant Knights to slay the evil beasts and defend Earth. But when Knight cadet Lance Espinosa is kidnapped by a strange red dragon who kills its own kind, certain truths are revealed…and so are the true monsters.

>>dragon au i repeat dragon au this is not a drill everyone - this fic!!! is freaking!!!! amazing!!!!!!! it’s in my top 5 minimum go try it out :D

Altea High by Lixie (! unfinished!)

Go back to school they said. It’ll be fun they said. Yeah, sure. It’s tons of fun scaling lava walls, accidentally setting things on fire, and being babysat by the school’s flirt.
When Lance signed up (*cough* bribed *cough*) to show the new firebug around the school he thought it would be a piece of cake. He did not anticipate the sour attitude, spontaneous explosions, intimate moments in elevators…

>>the sky high au you always knew you needed :D it’s still in the very early stages but the fic is really fun so far!!

Blue Shells and Comic Books by SonofHades (! unfinished!)

Lance has too much time on his hands, Keith doesn’t have enough. Lance leans more towards being outgoing and sociable, while Keith keeps to himself and can be mostly unpleasant. Neither think they have anything in common. What they don’t realize, however, is that there happens to be a very popular graphic novel that connects them together. Lance happens to be an avid reader and Keith just happens to secretly be the author.

>>another fic i’m super pumped for oh my god. each new chapter mail has me grinning like a maniac. the waiting between updates is suffering but all worth it in the end. it’s fun and interesting and i love it!

Flirting With Death by drippingpen (! unfinished!)

Keith commits the ultimate taboo as a grim reaper: he saves a life.
More specifically, he saves Lance’s life.
Now they are forever linked, unable to survive without the other. Keith must protect Lance from the forces that are trying to right Keith’s wrong and kill Lance.

>>skdfghjksfhgdksjfhgjfjd i cannot describe it. the plot is really amazing and keith and lance are so attracted to each other but they can’t kiss because that would literally kill lance. it belongs to the top most interesting voltron fics out there :D

in your shoes by lydiamartin (! unfinished!)

The one where Keith and Lance live in different cities but swap bodies – and angry love notes – multiple times a week.

>>Kimi No Na Wa (your name) AU!!!! so basically anything but your typical body switch AU :P give it a try, you will be surprised by it, especially if you haven’t seen the movie.

Of Lions And House Cats by Ms_Towa (! unfinished!)

Keith is a superhero who’s been pining after the cute boy who works at the music shop across the street from HQ. He also doesn’t know that the cute boy is the same vigilante he wants to bring to justice.

>>!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! all the chapters are insanely long but they’re all worth it. the plot develops rather slowly but it’s perfect as it is :P the slowest of burns. despite that it never made me lose interest in it so definitely go check it out if you have multiple hours of nothing to do!! :D


I’m gonna stop here because this list is already insanely long but it is faaaaaar from finished, believe me. This fandom produces so many good fics I can’t keep up with it ; - ;