and it's warm enough to but them

anonymous asked:

Okay, so like, all might's true form is a lot thinner than his hero one, and we've seen that his clothes don't exactly fit. So what if he has a bunch of sweaters that are like that? Big, baggy and most of all warm as heck sweaters. So now imagine, he and Inko are cuddling and it's pretty chilly. She burrows into the sweater and gets lost in the folds and it turns into a warm cuddle pile for the two of them. Or: the sweater is big enough for both of them to fit inside.

[on twitter]


(Toshi’s sweater is a little too big, so Inko helped him fit in it <3)

Transference (M) – Chapter 05

cr. [X]

Summary: During a routine visit to the local bakery, you stumble upon an intriguing business card and figure, what the hell. The business arrangement becomes…mutually beneficial. Y’all know where this is going.

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut

Word Count: 10,216

Warning: Tantric!Hoseok, therapist/client relationship, sexual themes, BDSM, shibari, dom/sub roleplay, profanity.

A/N: Here is the long awaited Hoseok POV chapter. If you haven’t read Chapters 1-4 already, I highly recommend doing so by using the links below.

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

Keep reading

MBTI Types as Pick-Up Lines
  • INFJ: Can I follow you? Because my mom told me to follow my dreams.
  • ISFJ: When I’m older, I’ll look back at all of my crowning memories, and I’ll think of the day my children were born, the day I got married, and the day that I met you
  • ENFJ: I write your name in the sky but the clouds blow it away. I write your name in the sand but the waves wash it away. I write your name in my heart and forever it will stay.
  • ESFJ: Since we’ve been told to reduce waste these days, what you say we use these condoms in my pocket before they expire.
  • INTP: Dang girl, are you an appendix because I don't understand how you work but this feeling in my stomach makes me want to take you out.
  • ISTP: Hey boy, are you sleep? Cause I don't get nearly enough of you and it's ruining my social, emotional, and over all mental health.
  • ENTP: I was recently diagnosed with a rare disease called cryoaudiovascularia. It prohibits proper blood flow to the ears, causing them to slowly freeze and fall off, slowly spreading to the inner ear and finally to the brain. There is no known cure, except one. My ears need to be constantly warmed, and the only known material soft enough is the inner thighs of a pretty girl. So I need you to sit on my face for medical reasons.
  • ESTP: I bet I can kiss you on the lips without touching you. *kiss* Oh what a shame, it seems like I lost the bet.
  • INTJ: You look familiar, didn’t we take a class together? I could’ve sworn we had chemistry.
  • ISTJ: Most people like to watch the Superbowl cuz it only happens once a year, but I'd rather talk to you cause the chance of meeting someone like you only happens once in a lifetime.
  • ENTJ: I'm an army recruiter, and I was wondering if you wanted to come over to my place and "be all you can be."
  • ESTJ: You know how I got these guns? *points to biceps* Lifting children out of poverty.
  • INFP: I blog about you sometimes.
  • ISFP: Of all your beautiful curves, your smile is by far my favorite.
  • ENFP: Fascinating. I’ve been looking at your eyes all night long, ’cause I’ve never seen such dark eyes with so much light in them.
  • ESFP: Hi, will you help me find my lost puppy? I think he went into this cheap motel room across the street.

Downtown Boys aren’t here for your “white tears”

Over the past six years, the Downtown Boys of Providence, Rhode Island, have criss-crossed America in their tour van, sharing snarling, bilingual punk with the country’s far-flung pockets of DIY counterculture. 

Over barbed guitars and warm saxophones, Latinx lead singer Victoria Ruiz has sung condemnations of America’s racism, its queerphobia, its stifling wage inequality, its prison industrial complex. 

They’ve built an enthusiastic fan base and fostered a community of like-minded musicians, earning some impressive honorifics in the process: “America’s most exciting punk band” as Rolling Stone named them in December 2015; “the perfect cure for the great American apathy” Flavorwire wrote in early 2016.

All of this was done in times of relative peace, though — before the gulf between America’s blue and red wings divide became stark enough to earn the country a new nickname, “the Divided States”; before the dawn of the #Resistance; before President Donald Trump took office, embodying more or less every ideal the band fights against.

Trump hasn’t provoked the band to shift its mission in any major ways, but the administration’s penchant for scapegoating minorities and promoting and encouraging violence has brought a new sense of urgency to the quintet’s latest record, Cost of Living, out Aug. 11 via Sub-Pop. Read more (8/7/17)

follow @the-movemnt

Here Are My Colors

Anthony Ramos x Reader

Requested: anthony x reader where reader is anthony’s longterm girlfriend who stuck with him through him never being home, missing out on date nights for rehearsals & performances, & really through everything together. when the show hits broadway, anthony starts staying waaay later than he has to @ the theatre & on readers 3 year anni with him, he insists he has to stay late at the theatre when they already had plans together & reader discovers it was just bc he wanted to hang out with jasmine

Words: 6,149 (i get it man, I’m so extra)

Warnings:  swearing, cheating, AND angst, SO much angst, I’m sorry


ALSO, I have no words as to how PROUD I am of this fic, it’s UNREAL. It took me so long to write and I love it, it’s basically my child. PLEASE ENJOY.

Keep reading

(A table of contents is available. This series will remain open for additional posts and the table of contents up-to-date as new posts are added.)

Part Four: Writing Travel With Non-Humans

If a list were made of the top mistakes made by–particularly fantasy–writers, surely travel, travel times, distances, and the needs of animals during that travel would be right up there. Consider for a moment that Frodo and Sam’s journey took approximately 6 months to get from the Shire to Mount Doom. But Pear, you say, it’s not like they were walking that whole time! They stayed in Rivendell for two months after he agrees to take the ring! And of course, you’d be right, but consider that they are two days in Moria, and it takes the group 7 days to get from Bree to Weathertop, a time frame which was just travel, for the most part. Take a look at it on a map:

And now consider the entirety of the world map:

Taking into consideration breaks for eating and sleeping, difficult terrain, horses, boats, and walking, Tolkien did a fairly good job of making sure the travel times for his world were accurate or at least plausible.

Now consider that 30 miles is the maximum a human can walk in a day without stops and without considering gear, and it’s more accurate to guesstimate ~10-15 miles. It’s ~40 miles from Washington DC to Baltimore, Maryland and can be driven in ~1 hour. Now consider that roads and highways have turned difficult terrain into easily navigable areas, and that cars have drastically lengthened how far and how long we can travel. A team of horses pulling a carriage can expect approximately 50 miles over an 8-12 hour day. A horse will tire from a gallop after approximately 3 miles, but could trot 15 miles without too much strain as long as a few breaks to walk were interspersed. It’s been recorded that on one particular journey, a horse averaged 31 miles per day, though 20 is a more reasonable. (I haven’t put anything regarding companions with wings due to severe variability. Migrating Alpine swifts have been known to fly 200 days straight while other birds don’t even really glide very well. If your companion has wings, do very thorough research into wing bones and strength and do your best.) My point is: We don’t go as far as we think we do, and neither do our creature companions unless we care for them properly.

Long story short, distance matters.

When you’re trying to decide how long it takes to get from one place to another in your story, or attempting to figure out how long it would take an advancing army to reach their destination, consider that our modern view of maps and distances has become severely warped. “It’s not that far,” and “They could make it there in a couple of hours,” and “They’ll be here tomorrow,” are common assumptions for writers, but they might not take into consideration that our characters, creature or otherwise, cannot travel all day without pause, even on roads.


Remember to take terrain into consideration. Your creatures accompanying your characters have different physiology than your humanoid characters, so how fast can they travel? Do they have the body strength to be able to carry someone, specifically the spinal strength? Remember that the more people you add to the back of a creature, the slower the creature will travel, even horses. Additionally, consider what their feet are made from. A horse’s hooves are a dense material that takes long usage fairly well (rocks and terrain difficulties aside) which is part of why they (and other hoofed creatures) make good pack animals and “vehicles,” alongside other factors. We don’t go around riding creatures with paws because paws rub raw faster when burdened with weight and asked to go long distances. Creatures traveling on their own legs will travel differently over different terrain. Remember when I mentioned earlier in the series that you should be thinking about where your creature companions originate from? Their physiology will be tailored to travel best over that kind of terrain. If they’re from meadows, rocky mountains will slow them down. Obviously, travel speeds will change depending on the terrain, and the endurance of your creatures will, too. Horses will become lame if rocks or other materials become lodged in their hooves (think about having a rock in your shoe!). Consider how terrain could impact your creature companion in similar ways depending on the construction of their feet.

Food & Water

The most common trope for feeding our humanoid characters on their journey is that they have rations in their packs: dried fruit, tough bread, hunks of cheese, dried meat jerky, etc. What’s often forgotten about is sufficient and appropriate food and water for creature companions. Water retention and metabolism rates vary widely across creatures. You can’t assume that they’ll function like your humanoids do.

When you were planning your creature companion and where they came from, I asked you to consider what kind of eaters they are (herbivore, carnivore, omnivore) to get a good basic idea of what your companions eat. They’re likely not going to be carrying around their food like your humanoids might, so you need to plan for your characters to either be hunting for the creature or to allow the creature to go off and hunt. But don’t just say, “They went off to hunt, returning three hours later with a bloody maw.” You need to know if the area they paused in has the types of foods your creature eats available. Know the environments they’re traveling in; know what’s around and what’s not. It’s okay for your creatures to go without a meal now and then, but it’s not going to make them happy or pleasant to be around the longer they miss out on food. Be aware of how their personality, their travel speed, their fighting capability, and their focus will be impacted when they are forced to go without food.

For emergency water supplies, it’s recommended to carry 1 gallon of water per person per day while cats and dogs generally need 1 gallon each per 3 days. These measures are not taking travel into account, which would raise the predicted amounts. We almost never think about having that much water hanging around our characters for their trek across wherever, but giving our creatures the breaks they will need and the water they’ll need often gets entirely forgotten. Take breaks. All-day travel is hard, hard work on anyone, car or not. Make sure your characters are traveling between places with potable water, whether that’s sources like rivers or cities with wells.

Stress, Sleep, and Special Care

Travel isn’t a walk in the park. It’s a long, grueling journey, filled with difficult decisions and dangerous encounters. There’s socializing and surviving, and it’s not as simple as going out to do the thing. Stress is going to come into play more and more the longer your characters and creatures travel. Think about how this increase in stress will effect your creature companions. Do they know what’s going on? What’s their perspective on the trip? Have they perceived themselves in danger yet? How will they react when they do? How do they deal with being forced to spend a prolonged amount of time in close quarters with others? Is that normal and welcome to them, or is it strange and not preferred? Will they seek out their own space or stick close to the others?

Remember that sleep is not going to be ideal. It may be few and far between, after long days of intense activity, interrupted by attacks, unfulfilling because of discomfort or anxiety, or any number of other things. You still need to consider how your creature would normally try to sleep, and then think about how they could if they needed to, because, trust me, they’re going to need to. Similar questions to those above should be considered including how your creature will handle going some sleepless nights. How will its mood and ability to handle changes in plan be impacted by lack of sleep? How about appetite and willingness to perform? All the problems we encounter with sleep, sleeplessness, interrupted sleep, and less-than-preferred amounts of sleep will need to be considered for your creatures, as much as for your humanoids.

Some creatures will need tending to when travel ceases, whether for a break or at the end of a day. They may need special attention like horses having their tack removed and a nice rub down, or creatures that traveled in a backpack or on a shoulder may need to wander a bit and stretch the legs. Please, please, pay attention to these things. There’s nothing worse than reading poor animal care from a farm boy going on their first big adventure. Casual mentions of the care and attention are sufficient, but completely ignoring this facet leaves out a big part of what travel is with a creature companion. If your creature is a mythical beast, break it down to its root characteristics to determine how they may need to be bedded down for the night. Are your dragons more lizard-like and likely to seek out warm places for the evening, perhaps burrowing for a nest in the ground? Are your hippogryphs able to find enough materials to nest in or do they take more to the horse side of things and sleep standing? Break things down and determine appropriate care for your creatures, then make sure your humanoids are performing those actions they need to ensure comfort for their companions.

Look. Just don’t forget you’ve got another character who has different needs. Don’t pass them off, don’t forget about them, don’t gloss over them. If you’re going to have a creature companion, you need to make sure you’re treating them like any other character and paying attention to their wants and needs the way you do for humanoids. Make sure you’re not asking them to go too far, too fast, without appropriate access to food and water. Take care of your creatures!

Next up: Contributing abilities!


Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Request: #6 with jughead x reader? thanks, love your work!

#6 “Here, take me blanket/jacket.” - “I told you, I’m not cold.” *shivering*

A/N: I think I might end up doing another one similar to this because I want to write a bit more about that energy you get when you hold hands with someone you like and you’re so nervous/excited that it’s like your body can’t handle it and it shakes to get rid of the energy and like yeah so I might do that

Tag list: @1amluke, @betty-coopers-number-one-stan, @keepcalmandflywithtoothless, @lostinpercyseyes, @captainsuperfangirl, @pissheadofficial, @teen-river-wolf, @itsjaynebird, @nooneshoney, @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

Keep reading

  • Dick: I want my allowance in college credits this month
  • ---
  • Jason: I will literally do all your homework if you give me that cookie
  • Tim: Liar, you don't even do your own fucking homework
  • ---
  • Steph: *seconds after receiving a math test* what the hell
  • ---
  • Duke: I actually bought two hamsters. I named them both after the Muppets. They ate each other.
  • ---
  • Tim: I don't have enough upper body leg
  • ---
  • Damian: I drew a dead guy. Someone put it on the fridge this morning.
  • ---
  • Dick: Literally all I've a learned since last summer is that poptarts taste the best when they're warm.
  • ---
  • Cass: Here is your gym credit *flexes muscles*
  • ---
  • Jason: *writing in red pen* Viva La Revolution
  • ---
  • Tim: I had a tan, but it's gone now. My tan vanishe- guYs, ohmygod, it tan-ished. Guys. Guys. It tan-ished.
  • ---
  • Damian: I really hope I run into our Spanish teacher in a Walgreen's parking lot one day. She can catch these hands.
  • Cass: She's old.
  • Damian: So is Satan. It's not a coincidence.
  • ---
  • Steph: How many things do you think I can staple to that guy's jacket before he notices
  • ---
  • Dick: I think we should start a band, I used to play guitar hero a lot so I know what I'm doing
  • ---
  • Duke: This little kid just asked me why I'm shaped like this, and honestly I agree

Third set of ten Sterek fic recs!

You Only Live Once…or Twice | WonderWolf ( @teenshmolf ) | 32,949 | Explicit | 2015-05-09 to 2015-06-13

“Anything,” Derek’s eyes are determined, boring into Stiles’.

Stiles huffs a laugh, “Careful there, big guy. Don’t want to be promising anything to every necromancer you meet. Some might ask for your soul or someth—”

“I’ll give you my soul to bring her back,” Derek says, his voice steady and strong with resolve, “if that’s what you want.”

Stiles’ mouth gapes open for a moment before his brain kicks into gear and he stutters out, “N-no, I don’t ask for that. I only ask for money.”

(Or the one in which Stiles is a necromancer who needs help stopping a rogue alpha and Derek is the solution, but at what cost?)

Eyes Like Stars | @inthearmsofathief | 10,889 | Gen | 2017-06-11

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said indignantly. “And don’t think you can try anything on me. It won’t work.” Stiles had been attacked by his own kind before. Stiles wasn’t necessarily strong, but unbridled. And nothing ever seemed to really hurt him.

When the Okami stepped out, it wasn’t what Stiles had been expecting. The wolf was an actual wolf. His sleek black fur was hit by rays of the setting sun, his eyes glistened like rubies and his teeth were sharp. Sharp enough Stiles wondered if they could actually damage him.

“Kira said the village lost all its protectors,” Stiles mused. “Yet here you are.” The wolf growled again. Stiles scoffed. “I don’t blame you for abandoning them. Wouldn’t want to protect them either.”

And When I Wake You’re There I’m Saved | suchfun ( @fishcommander ) | 14,414 | Teen | 2017-05-17

“Derek,” Stiles says, firm. His hand is warm on Derek’s shoulder. “I’ll be okay.”

“You didn’t leave me,” Derek argues. “How can you expect me to leave you?”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Oh my god, it’ll be fine. Even if I am captured, I’m just a boring human. They wanted you for your Lycan blood.”

Derek crosses his arms. Mainly so he doesn’t wrap his hands around Stiles’ throat in an attempt to throttle some sense into him. “That’s fine. But this isn’t a time when being a boring human is an asset. This is a time when being a boring human results in a shot to the head.”

Derek,” Stiles says again. He steps closer, so Derek is surrounded in his scent, his chemosignals—namely unwavering, resolute determination, distinctively sharp and entirely unbreakable—clouding Derek’s mind. “You’ll come back for me.” He sounds so sure, and he can tell the exact moment Derek gives in. Because Derek somehow always gives in to Stiles.

“I’ll come back for you,” he confirms. “And you better not be dead.”

Stiles grins, eyes sparkling with far too much humour for someone who potentially just sacrificed himself for a surly Lycan and bunch of strangers. “You do say the sweetest things.”

Somewhere to Start | @lissadiane | 33,552 | Teen | 2017-06-13

Stiles has always known that he isn’t quite human - the plant life that tends to sprout around him whenever he gets upset or excited gives it away. He’s never really fit in among the regular people in Beacon Hills and is determined to wait it out, go to college, and find somewhere to belong. He’s forced to abandon those plans, however, after he desperately agrees to enter into an arranged marriage to save his father’s life.

An arranged marriage with an angry, sometimes furry dude with trust issues. It’s all very Beauty and the Beast, without the singing candlesticks.

Something New Is Going to Happen | dragon_temeraire ( @dragon-temeraire ) | 4,766 | Teen | 2017-06-14

Stiles accidentally discovers that their school mascot is super cute.

Striking Matches | @eeyore9990, castielblues ( @dyjanobrien ) | 14,923 | Teen | 2017-06-09

Stiles has only ever wanted to protect his family and his pack. That’s not easy to do when you’re human and sarcasm is your only defense. Now Deaton is telling Stiles he’s a spark, and if that’s a weapon in his arsenal, he’s sure as hell going to learn to use it.

All Stiles needs now, to complete his transformation into a true badass, is a training montage and a decent soundtrack…

I’ll make you a believerElisAttack ( @iamonlydancing ) | 26,543 | Explicit | 2017-05-15 to 2017-05-26

Five times a memory charm is cast, and the one time Derek Hale doesn’t bother.

Or the one where Derek’s too old to be chasing an unidentified, unregistered wizard around the city.

An Unpredictable Amount of Turtles | skoosiepants ( @pantstomatch ) | 5,942 | Teen | 2017-05-16

Stiles says, “I have a five year plan. A five year plan to popularity that will tank the minute I meet this guy.”

“I feel like you’re exaggerating,” Scott says, but Scott has a katana-wielding badass waiting for him at the other end of the rainbow, and Stiles has terrariums.


A soulmate au with turtles and angst.

Stringbean | tintagel | 2,548 | Gen | 2017-06-04

Never compare your best bro’s body to a stringbean. Working out may result.

The summer when he’s back from college, Stiles takes up running, and Derek’s house becomes his halfway point.

Put a spell on me, please? | ssleif ( @do-what-the-knight-tells-you ) | 3,154 | Explicit | 2017-06-01

Derek has a dilemma, and figures Stiles, sneaky clever Slytherin that he is, might be able to help. Or: Teenage wizards having an illicit first-time rendezvous while their dorm mates are elsewhere.

The sun is just about to begin its descent into the sky by the time Even settles enough to not feel like he was going to run for the hills at every noise. The air, heating every day but proving warm enough even in early June, is still and calm.

Unlike Even. But then again, when is Even ever truly still and calm?

He’s trying though. Right now, he’s trying so hard to unlock his muscles; to keep them loose and relaxed as he sits on the edge of the bridge just paces away from Bakka. 

It was their bridge. The boys’ bridge that they had spent years running and climbing along.


The voice is wary but clear and Even looks up, once again resisting the urge to flee; to stalk off and comfort himself in Isak’s arms in their apartment that they made for just the two of them. Away from the outside world. 

But he can’t do that because everyone has to stop running at some point.

So he hunkers down and pushes off the bridge until he’s facing full on one of the people he’s let fall victim to his head. “Elias. Hi.”

Elias nods in response, throwing a hand over his shaved head and down his neck, “Hey. I- uh. I didn’t expect to hear from you.”

“Yeah.” Even takes a breath, “Yeah. Sana mentioned that she talked to you a bit and that you said hi and I just… I wanted to see how you were doing.”

Elias shrugs, “I mean, not bad. Growing up- looking for jobs and places to live that aren’t my parents’. All of that adult bullshit we swore would never happen.” Elias stops and chuckles, “Though I hear you’ve managed to do that already.”

Even blinks before he lets out a laugh and gets it, “Oh yeah. The apartment. We were really lucky to get it for so cheap. It’s super small and has the weirdest little quirks- but it’s great.”

“And you’re living with,” Elias scratches behind his ear, “Isak?” And at Even’s nod, he winces, “Sorry about that… the whole punching thing. I didn’t- it just happened.”

It just happened, Even has to grin at that. That had been Isak’s first response as well. I’m sorry, Even, it just fucking happened.

“Don’t worry about it.” He waves it off easily enough, thinking about the churlish, but guilty expression on Isak’s face when they got home from the hospital that night and Isak held a pack of frozen peas to his face. “Honestly Isak’s more embarrassed about it than anything. He asked me if he should like make an apology card or something for Mikael so you could give it to him.”

“So Isak knows you were coming to meet me today?”

“Of course.”

They are both silent for several seconds. It’s enough time for the easiness that had reappeared as they talked to fade out again, leaving two uncomfortable boys who hadn’t spoken in over a year. But it was also enough time for Even to re-situate himself on the bridge and for Elias to join him. 

When a group of birds abandoned the tree just to the right of the boys in a noisy swoop, Elias spoke again, “What happened, man?”

And wasn’t that just the question of the century. He thinks back to those blurry last weeks at Bakka and tries to answer as honestly as he could because Elias deserved that.

Even shakes his head slowly, “I messed up. I got sick and I didn’t know it and everything just started happening so fast…. and then with Mikael and the other stuff and I knew it was only going to be a matter of time.”

“What was?”

“That you guys were going to leave. You were going to see me and you were going to leave me alone. So I guess I left first.”

There was silence again. Thick, thick silence held together by the weight of what was left unsaid. There is a bit of rock next to Even; a group of rough pebbles that he picks up and squeezes between his fingers. When the pain reminds him that he’s still here, he tosses the over the edge of the bridge and into the shallow water below. 

When Elias breaks the silence again his words are quiet, but brimming with something that Even can’t quite place, “Do you remember first year of Bakka? You dared me to climb a tree and I did.”

He did- he remembered. “Yeah and then you fell out and broke your arm.”

“And you stayed with me for the hour and a half it took for my parents to find out and come get me.” Elias lets out a huff of air through his nose, “You stayed with me. So why would you think that I would leave you? That any of us would leave you? You were my best friend, Even. Yousef’s too. And then you were gone.”

He can’t answer. He can’t, he can’t. He should go. But he can’t do that either. 

So he sits there and stares out along the path that the bridge leads to. He stares out of it and imagines what would have happened if he had stayed at Bakka. But there is no Isak in that scenario, so he immediately dismisses the thought.

He feels Elias’s hand on his shoulder when it becomes clear that Even isn’t going to answer. And for a few moments it’s enough.

Heeeey, Heey Baby! (Hu, Ha!)

I felt like you deserved to read something funny again as I’ve only been writing angst and porn lately. If you don’t know the Hey Baby song by DJ Otzi yet…I don’t even know what to say. It’s iconic. Go listen.

Draco was sleeping. Deeply. Blissfully. He was warm and content. Comfortable. 

Unfortunately, he was also very unwillingly waking up. His mind was slowly becoming more and more aware of the faint tap followed by an even softer plop that sounded against his window every now and then.

He opened his eyes. An even louder tap sounded against the window accompanied by the sound of two muffled male voices coming from somewhere below the balcony. The owners of the voices obviously thought they were being quiet judging by the stage whisper quality of the sound. Whispers my ass, Draco huffed. They would wake a basilisk from its sleep.

He got out of the warm embrace of the bed and grumpily put on his nightgown. If it was that village drunkard with his equally inebriated friend again, he swore he’ll be calling the Aurors on them. Enough was enough.

He strode to the balcony door, opened it and stepped out into the warm summer night air.

‘’What in Merlin’s mighty melon sized balls is goin – ‘’

He stopped mid his own stage whispered yell as his gaze fell to a very tall, very red haired man who was only staying upright because he was supported by a very familiar black haired, brown skinned, bespectacled idiot. Said idiot was simultaneously holding the stumbling redhead in place and trying to pick up another stone from the ground. Presumably to throw it at the window again.

Draco sighed heavily as he leaned against the railing defeated. There will be no need to call the Aurors; two of them were already here and if the law was to be acknowledged they’d have to arrest themselves.

‘’What the hell are you two doing under the bloody balcony in the middle of the night?’’

Instead of getting a comprehensive response, Harry upon noticing him shook Ron wildly and pointed in Draco’s direction whispering ‘’Ohmigod, Ron. He’s here.’’ His eyes were wide and his outstretched hand unsteady. Draco opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get anything out, he heard Potter mutter ‘one two three’ under his breath waving his hand downwards on the count of three as he puffed hi chests out, opened his mouth and practically screamed ‘’HEEEEY, HEEY BABY!’’

‘’HU, HA!’’ Weasley helpfully bellowed. Apparently, he was taking over the role of a backup singer.

Draco was taking over the role of a martyr.

‘’I WANNA KNOOOOOOOW IF YOU’D BE MY GIRL.’’ There, Harry stopped abruptly looking confused. He turned to Ron, who was still singing ‘hu, ha’ under his breath and shouted ‘’NO!’’ directly at his face.

Weasley made a face ‘’Wha-?’’

Wide eyed and disappointed Harry responded ‘’Rooon! ‘S wrong, the song. He’s not a girl! Ohmigod, you think he’ll hate me now?’’ He looked on the verge of tears. ‘’I don’t want ‘im to be my girl Ron. I want ‘im to be my boyfriend.’’

Draco wondered exactly how many gallons of beer accompanied by stronger shots were needed to bring them both to this state.

‘’Potter!’’ he shouted. ‘’I’m right here and I can literally hear every word you say!’’ Harry’s eyes widened even more while Weasley continued looking completely unfazed. In fact, Draco was contemplating whether Weasley had even noticed him yet.

In that exact moment Ron’s mouth fell wide open and he looked like something really brilliant dawned on him. Draco feared for what was coming next.

‘’Haaaary! I fixed it! I fixed it!’’ he looked so happy Draco couldn’t even begrudge him what came next. Ron tilted his head upwards and started singing at the top of his voice ‘’HEEEEEY, HEEY BABY!’’

‘’HU, HA’’ Harry said with such vigour he swayed dangerously.

‘’I WANNA KNOOOOOOOW IF YOU’D BE MY BOY?!’’ He turned to Harry presumably in hopes of him recognizing his brilliance.

He wasn’t disappointed; Harry’s mouth fell open and he gasped in awe ‘’Ohhhh! Ronnn! You fixed it!’’ They then looked at each other knowingly and turned to face Draco in unison.

Uh, oh.





Then they suddenly stopped. Apparently the song either ended there or they didn’t know the rest of the lyrics.

Or neither of the above, Draco realized as he noticed Harry looking up at him full of endearing hope smiling expectantly and quite clearly awaiting an answer. Oh dear Merlin, he was wooing him.

Draco’s head dropped onto his forearms resting on the railing. There was some scuffling below him and he heard Potter demand quietly ‘give ‘em to me’. He raised his head and behold: In his hands, Potter was clutching what had to be the ugliest most unfortunately rumpled bouquet Draco had ever seen in his life. In fact, it looked very much like lettuce with a few giant roses included in the mess.  

Draco narrowed his eyes. Those roses looked suspiciously familiar.

‘’Harry…’’ he said with wariness in his voice, ‘’where are those roses from?’’

A dark hand carefully pointed in the direction of the neighbour garden. Draco’s regard followed the line of the pointing finger towards the exact rosebush he most feared the flowers came from. The bush was all bent and rumpled. It looked exactly as if two grown men had just fallen into it. Draco closed his eyes and counted to ten.

‘’Harry,’’ he said as calmly as possible, ‘’you do realise those are Mrs Prickletosh’s roses?’’ there was a definite strain in his voice. ‘’You know, the lady who talks to her rose bushes as if they were her only love in the world and has actually hexed children for smelling them.’’

Harry’s eyes went wide with fear and he looked around wildly while Weasley stilled completely as if smelling trouble.

Potter looked up at him and with a tremor in his voice softly said ‘’Oh shit. Your neighbour is Mrs Prickletosh too?’’

‘’Bloody hell!’’ Draco shouted throwing his arms in the air not even caring who heard anymore. ‘’POTTER! YOU FUCKING LIVE HERE!’’ Harry’s jaw dropped open as Draco continued ‘’We’ve been together for years, you tit.’’

Harry just stood there for a second, jaw open and tears of wonder in his eyes, then he grabbed an extremely confused Ron around his midriff, lay his head on his chest and proceeded to sob into it. ‘’Ohmigod, Ron. He already is my boyfriend. He already loves me.’’

Draco rubbed at his temples tiredly, but he couldn’t deny that his heart skipped a beat at Harry’s mention of love. Love him he did. Stupidly, unexpectedly, preposterously and – unconditionally.

Harry was still sobbing into Ron’s chest as Weasley awkwardly patted his back muttering something like ‘why you crying ‘bout love, mate’.

Draco ‘s lips cured up into a warm smile.

‘’For Merlin’s sake, get your two sorry asses inside, you tossers.’’

The signs as the fucking sky
  • Aries: the bloody fucking sunset because it's so glorious and they feel empowered
  • Taurus: the sky when it's fucking snowing because it is pretty and un/conventional but makes them feel excited and relaxed and full of good intentions
  • Gemini: the fucking lil moving rain cloud so that one second it rains and the other it doesn't because they make them analyze and appreciate life and makes them curios and smol
  • Cancer: the sky during a fucking drizzle because it is small and cute but annoying as fuck and can make a whole city stop but when they are at home and watch it makes them feel cozy and happy
  • Leo: The fucking midday sun in the middle of the summer in a clear sky because it is the centre if the sky and attracts all eyes also it is hot as fuck and makes leos feel at home
  • Virgo: a fucking clear blue sky on a sunny and breezy day because it is perfect and they love perfection and it makes them feel relaxed for once
  • Libra: the fucking grey sky during a storm because the lightning,the rain's sound and its smell calm them down and makes them feel warm as if they have expressed themselves enough; cozy.
  • Scorpio: the fucking black midnight clear sky because it is so dark and mysterious and beautiful (pure fucking beauty) and just makes them question life and feel alive
  • Sagittarius: a fucking hurricane because they fucking can hell yeah it is scary but beautiful and a natural phenomenon and they feel afraid but at the same time want to run outside even if they know they would die. It wakes them up
  • Capricorn: a 11am 2 oktas(if they are called like this) ( partially covered/random lil white clouds) sky because it is perfect in its own way and is not cold nor hot and there is neither too much light nor too little and is just perfect and makes them feel protected
  • Aquarius: the fucking rainbow in the middle of a tropical storm (i know you expected it people) because it is unexpected and surprises them and makes them question life in a good way and makes them feel like anything is possible(=happy)
  • Pisces: the fucking sunrise because it is soft and comforting and makes them smile and warms up their heart making it their beloved reward for waking up so early to see it

every fairytale has its misunderstood meaning.

mine was simple:
beautiful princess, locked in a crystal palace,
in the need of a handsome prince
whose will is strong enough to save her
from the dragon that protects the entrance.

but that monster is always warm.
soothes me at night when no prince comes to me,
looks over me when sickness comes,
and his loyalty wins over every single beautiful face.

men whose love is fed by greed,
i had enough.
some others whose hands had only wanted flesh,
plenty of them too.
i’m a crown and prize for rescuing,
power and dominance for such bravery.

no one like him.

my dragon flies the sky for better days to come my way,
burns down the shadow of unloyal bodies,
cleans the path my feet must touch once i step outside.

being rescued is not in my book, i don’t need that.
warmth, I have it.
protection, i have it.
shelter, i have it.
company, i have it.
a crown, it’s mine.
a realm, all mine.

why is my fairy tale so misunderstood?
you don’t see it this way,
those eyes so full of wonder
and fire, yours.
you are the brave, the winner,
the answer and holder of the key,
my love.

—  i choose you, i want my dragon. nc.
Normal Horoscope:

Aries: Try running the ice cream scoop under warm water beforehand. Also, blood comes out with enough soda water.

Taurus: Find enlightenment in draining all the water from your body.

Gemini: One of the walls in your home is very not real. Im sure you have your suspicions as to which one.

Cancer: Show your curiosity to the world by carving a question mark into your forehead with a bread knife.

Leo: The time for peaceful conversation is gone. Break something or be broken.

Virgo: Fear offers comforts that the waking world cannot.

Libra: Its possible to think someone is weird as hell but also let them do their thing. Bathe in the insanity of the world.

Scorpio: We cannot help with some fights. This is not your fault.

Ophiuchus: There is freedom in a slip n slide.

Sagittarius: Your perception skills can be a double edged sword. We are not meant to know some things.

Capricorn: X marks the spot. The spot you should stay very very far away from.

Aquarius: Do not try to be anyone but yourself under penalty of death.

Pisces: Nobody ever admits everything. This is for the best. You do it too.

anonymous asked:

Mayaaaaa why is everyone talking about Harry & Louis break up? and like Harry is with Xander, Louis is going to be a father! I simply cannot believe, not that im i denial phase but it just the way they look at each other, the fonding, the serenading, if indeed they broke up we would have known, dont you think so? But anyway, please reassure me!!!

Anon, I don’t normally do this, but I’m really annoyed by this recent wave of break up talks, and this is an actual thing I’ve been told just this afternoon and that coincidentally fits your description perfectly:
“Both Harry and Louis are so lovely to talk to, really kind, polite individuals, but when they get together they just level up. They might be in a room full of people, but they always seem to sense the exact moment the other enter that same room, they turn to each other and simply light up. The conversations I’ve seen going down between the two of them without speaking a single word are endless and still some of my most emotional couple experience.”

Halting Fears and Helping Hands. Elriel Oneshot

Guess what? I’m not dead! Just busy and Stressed! Anyhow, here’s a oneshot I promised. 

Prompt: Azriel has a mission, and returns injured. 


Elain Archeron hated fear. Above all things, she hated fear. Especially when she was fearing for someone else. Especially when that someone was Azriel. 

He and Rhys stood as the edge of the balcony at the very top of the House of Wind. They spoke in hushed tones, probably about the mission Azriel was about to embark on. He’d told her that morning that he wouldn’t be in much danger, just another rouge bunch of Illyrians, nothing to worry about. But she was going to worry. Azriel knew, he could read her like an open book, something everyone else had trouble doing. 

Elain waited for Rhys to finish speaking to Az. Like hell was she letting him leave without saying goodbye.


She nearly shrieked as her sister appeared behind her. Elain hadn’t heard her come in.

“Have you come to say goodbye?”

Feyre was scanning her, like she thought she could see into her soul. Elain made sure the shields that Rhysand and Azriel had been showing her were put up. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her sister, in fact there were only a few other people besides Feyre that she did trust. Rhysand was kind and wonderful, but too charming. Cassian was too wild for anyone but Nesta, and Mor was lovely, kind, but she had the tendency to be loud. She hadn’t been a fan of anything overtly loud since before the war.

 Elain felt guilty that she couldn’t always get along with the people who meant so much to her sister.

Elain tugged at the sleeve of her dress, meeting Feyre’s inquisitive gaze. “Yes, I suppose.”

Feyre looked as though she was about to say something, but then Rhysand was embracing Azriel and giving him a clap on the back and the High Lord was striding towards them. Rhysand gave them a dazzling grin as he entered, pausing to kiss Feyre’s brow. 

“My High Lady,” he murmured. Feyre smiled a smile that Elain only ever saw when she was with Rhys. For a second, she wanted to ask her sister if she’d made the right decision all those days ago, when she had told Lucien—

“Elain, you’d better go to Az.”

Elain found herself nodding, not really noticing who had said it. 

She slid out of the door, closing it behind her. It clicked shut, and as she approached him, the shadows that so often wreathed his body faded into nothing. A small smile brightened his handsome face and something inside Elain fluttered. The wind tousled his inky black hair and Elain found herself wishing she had Feyre’s ability to paint, if only so she could have the image of Azriel smiling like that forever.

He extended a scarred hand, which she took without hesitation. It was warm and dry, and Elain gave it a squeeze. “Be safe, Az, please.”

Her words were almost lost to the wind howling around them. 

“Of course, Elain,” he said quietly.

Elain took a step closer, another, until her chest was nearly pressed against him. Their hands still hung between them, his scarred thumb stroking the back of her hand. Elain felt her breath catch as Azriel glanced down at her lips. Elain glanced once towards the door, but it was too dark to see if Feyre and Rhys were lurking inside. 

“They went downstairs, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Azriel’s deep voice rumbled through her. “Good,” she said breathlessly.

Then she kissed him. 

Or he kissed her, or they both kissed each other. He was too tall, even if she stood on her tiptoes, for her to just kiss him. He had to duck down a bit, but it didn’t make it less enjoyable. She sighed against his mouth, sliding her hands up his chest and into his wind-tangled hair. He tasted like mint and coffee and she quickly got drunk off the feel of his soft lips moving against her own. Elain resisted her giggle when Azriel slid a hesitant hand around her waist. She knew he wanted to ask if it was okay; he never did anything without her permission, but Elain couldn’t bear the thought of breaking this kiss. 

Kissing Azriel was like drinking sparkling wine. It made her feel light and tipsy and she could never get enough. 

But, eventually they had to break the kiss. And when they did, both of them were panting, gasping for air. Azriel rested his brow against hers’ and Elain felt heat rise in her belly at the way his pupils were blown wide with desire.

“Promise me you’ll be alright, Az—,” her voice broke, and the hand on her waist tightened its’ grip. “Promise me.”

He nodded against her, his warm breath washing over her. 

“I swear on my High Lord I’ll be alright,” he kissed her brow. “Don’t worry, El.” She blushed at the name. “I’ll be just fine.”

Azriel gave her another sweet kiss on her lips, one that made her wish he’d never leave, and flared his mighty wings.

“I’ll see you soon.”

With that he walked towards the edge of the building and plummeted off.

The next few days passed without incident, but on the third day of Azriel’s absence, Elain had an overwhelming sense of foreboding. Strangely, though, she had no visions. Which, she supposed, was good.

She lay in her bed in the townhouse for hours, waiting for sleep to come, but it evaded her. 

Some nights, she’d go with Az to his apartment at the edge of the city if she couldn’t sleep. They hadn’t done anything besides sleep when she went to his home. 

But, she’d found herself wishing in the time since their first kiss that sometimes those scarred hands that so often just held her would do something else. She had heard Feyre and Nesta talking quietly about some of the more explicit things they did with their mates, and she couldn’t help but be envious. It pained her to think about Grayson, but she thought back to him occasionally. They had been engaged, so it wasn’t as if they hadn’t done anything… interesting. It was more that it had been awkward and fumbling than exciting and pleasurable.  

Elain wondered for a moment what it would feel like for Azriel’s hands to go higher than her waist, for his long, scarred fingers to cup her breast. She wondered what it would feel like to have his soft lips anywhere else besides her lips or her knuckles. Elain blushed furiously at herself. He was her friend. A friend she had kissed more than once

Friend— but more. He was more, and even though it scared her, Elain was ready for them to become something else. She no longer felt guilty about wanting Az. She’d told Lucien weeks ago that she couldn’t accept their bond. The male, too, thought that perhaps the Cauldron had made a mistake. It had been hard to tell him, but afterwards, she’d felt… Free. Lighter and happier. 

Elain sighed, wrestling with her restless mind. She needed to sleep. It would be hot tomorrow, and she had a bunch of hollyhocks she wanted to plant, so she would have to get up early before the sun started baking anything in its path.

Elain flipped onto her back and stared up at the dark ceiling. She wondered how Azriel was fairing right now. 

He was probably glowering at the loud insanity of the llyrian’s. He often told her how strange it was for him to visit the camps. 

Elain nestled into the sheets and closed her eyes. It was always easier to sleep when she was with Azriel. That was why she had taken to creeping over to his apartment on the bad nights when the visions were relentless or when the nightmares kept sleep at bay. The first time she had shown up at his place in the middle of the night… That had also been the first time she had kissed him.       

Elain stared into the shadows of her room, imagining Azriel’s soft lips and scarred hands…

Sleep began to tug at her eyes and her body, and Elain sighed again. She was so tired…

Lucien Vanserra had needed a drink. He still needed a drink. But the most important thing on his mind at the moment was keeping the Shadowsinger alive. 

He grunted as Azriel swayed and let his full weight settle on Lucien. “How,” he said through clenched teeth, “in the hell did you end up this bad?”

Azriel groaned, and pressed the bandage that was currently attempting to keep his blood in harder against his chest. “Just… Rhys’s house, take me…”

Lucien swore again. “We’re almost there.”

They turned another corner and Lucien frowned as people caught sight of the huge Illyrian bleeding everywhere. Just a few more yards…

A lamp was lit on the porch of the townhouse, and Lucien realized Az must have reached out with his mind to Rhys. Then the door was flinging open and Rhys was dashing down the steps, half dressed in a pair of loose trousers. 

Rhys was there faster than he had a right to be, sliding his arm around Azriel’s waist and shouting at Feyre to retrieve Madja. Feyre was gone in an instant. Winnowing.

Lucien followed the Highlord silently, Azriel’s blood warm against his skin.

Elain had been sleeping soundly. That was until she heard the slam of a door, and the tang of blood met her nose. For a moment, she thought it was vision, because the room around her was dark, and the sound was muddled, but then as the sounds became sharper…

Male voices echoed through the house, panicked and hurried, and a pang of terror struck Elain’s heart. 

She scrambled out of bed and grabbed the pale pink silk robe that Feyre had bought her while visiting the Dawn Court. It was just a scrap of clothing that barely fell to her knees, and some human part of her cringed at the idea of having others see her in such revealing clothing, but when she heard someone swear loudly, Elain figured modesty could wait.

With her breath caught in her throat, Elain flung open her door and ran towards the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.

Silently, she prayed it wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be, but then she was at the landing. Then she was rounding the corner into the living room…

The world froze around her, the only sound her heart beat.

Before her lay Azriel, his leathers stripped from his body and blood oozing from a deep wound on his left pectoral. Rhysand knelt above him, his hands pressed against Azriel’s chest in an attempt to halt the blood flow. 

Azriel’s beautiful, elegant face was swollen and bloody, and several small lacerations marred his cheek bones. But it was the sight of his hands that made her body move, as if something was pulling her to him. 

His hands were… Elain didn’t have the words. The already scarred skin was split in more places than she cared to count. From fighting back, she supposed. 

She stumbled two steps, then crumpled to her knees beside the Shadowsinger. Elain was careful of the mighty wings that were spread across the floor. Those too, were covered in bruises and abrasions. He had to be in agony. 

Rhysand glanced up to meet her eyes, and in that depthless violet, Elain found pain— guilt. 

“How?” She gasped.

Rhysand swallowed once and shook his head. “I don’t know, Madja’s on her way with Feyre, as soon as she get’s here—”

Elain snarled—actually snarled— at the Highlord of the Night Court, and placed a hand on Azriel’s bare shoulder. 

“You are the Highlord! Why can’t you heal him?”

Rhysand opened his mouth, but then footsteps sounded in the hall, and Madja and Feyre hurried in, the healer ordering them away. 

But Elain stayed. She couldn’t move even if she wanted to.

The healer gave her a disapproving look and mumbled something under her breath, but didn’t waste anytime trying to get her to move away. She set to work, applying something to the wound and waving her small hand over his chest.

It was when the flesh of Azriel’s chest began to knit together that Elain realized she was crying. 

Heavy, fat tears dropped onto her lap, and after a moment, her shoulder’s began to shake with the force of her sobs, but none of the others made a comment. Elain reined in her sobs enough that no one could hear, but she knew they could see. Not that she cared. Her only focus was Azriel. How the color seemed to bloom back into his golden brown skin with each passing moment, and how his eyes seemed to flicker behind their lids. 

Elain didn’t know how long they all sat there watching as Madja wrapped a thick bandage around his chest and cleaned each cut on his hands and wings. But she did know that when Azriel opened his eyes, the sun was rising. 

“Hey, Flower,” he murmured thickly. 

Elain felt the tears come back with a vengeance, and Azriel looked deeply confused when she began sobbing. 

He tried to sit up, but a sharp poke from Madja had him lying back down. Azriel did, however, raise an arm to grasp her shoulder. 

“I told you I wo- would be fine.” 

Elain only cried harder.

Feyre stood at the back of the room with Lucien, watching silently as Elain sobbed into Azriel’s shoulder. She wanted to go comfort her sister, but she knew that right now her sister had everything she needed, despite her tears. 

As soon as Azriel had woken up, Madja had signaled for Rhysand to join her in the hall to discuss Azriel’s healing. Now, it was just herself and Lucien. 

The male at her side look understandably morose at what he was watching. 

Feyre had thought that everyone had noticed how close her middle sister and the Shadowsinger had grown. Perhaps Lucien hadn’t. 

Elain hadn’t even noticed that the male she was mated to was in the room. Her eyes were for Azriel only.

A sudden movement from Lucien had Feyre bracing herself if the male got it in his mind to winnow away with her sister. 

But Lucien was making his way towards the door, and he caught the way Feyre had moved between him and her sister.

A deep frown settled on his face, and Feyre got the sickening feeling she had just kicked a male already down. 

“I am not going to harm her, Feyre. Or the Shadowsinger, for that matter.” Lucien sounded defeated and Feyre bit her lip. 

“Are…” She looked again towards her sister who was now brushing back Azriel’s hair as they talked quietly. 

“Are you alright, Lucien?”

Her friend shook his head. “I am… getting better.”

He turned his head, his unbound red hair swaying with the movement as he studied Elain from afar. “Those tears Elain is crying are for Azriel, Feyre, and I don’t think they ever could have been for me.” A grim laugh. “They deserve each other, Feyre. They deserve happiness. Elain and Azriel more than most.”

Feyre’s heart broke inside her chest and she placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. 

“You deserve happiness too, Lucien. Do not forget that.”

The male only nodded. “I won’t.”

Azriel’s mind felt fuzzy. Like someone had shoved cotton inside him. 

He cracked open an eye and was nearly blinded by sunlight.

He sat up, and groaned at the pain in his chest. He vaguely remembered last night’s events; saying something that set off the Illyrian’s, then crashing into a street and having Vanserra carry him home, bloodied and broken. 


His tongue was paper dry, and he mumbled something unintelligible. His head hurt, along with nearly every other part of his body, but despite his pain, he turned towards the voice.

Elain sat at the edge of his bed— he supposed it was his— her golden-brown hair a fuzzy halo around her head, he tried not to look startled at the sight of her in a ridiculously short green silk nightgown that exposed much more skin than he knew she was comfortable with. He wondered why she had it. 

He stopped studying her and glanced back at himself. A white bandage splotched with blood was wrapped around his chest, and he felt the tell-tale signs of a bloodied lip. He knew for sure if he looked in a mirror, he’d see more.

The room around him was clean and neat, and the scent of earth and flowers flooded his senses. Familiar, but not his own— Elain’s, he realized after a moment. 

A hand was pressed against his belly and Azriel knew it was Elain beckoning him to lay back down. With a groan, he laid back against the bed, and Elain’s scent wrapped around him. Peonies and roses.

He rested his head against the pillows, meeting Elain’s gaze. Her hand still rested on his stomach, but he didn’t mention it. 

“You scared me, you know.” There was a barely noticeable tremor in her voice, but it still sent a pang of hurt through his chest. Elain didn’t flinch away when he reached for her hand.

Her hand was small and soft against his large one, her pale skin stark in contrast with his. Her small, clever fingers moved in soothing patterns over the back of his hand.

 He didn’t flinch as he once might have done had someone stroked those damn scars that mangled his hand. 

“I know I did, El,” he met her eyes. They were soft and warm, but they were also filled with fear.

“I’m so sorry, Elain.”

She stared at him for a long moment, and Azriel had the distinct feeling she was peeling him apart, each word and sentence and movement. Like she was trying to figure him out. 

Elain gave herself a shake and reached towards the little cherry-wood nightstand. He watched as she poured a glass of water. He liked watching her, whether she was in her gardens or buttoning her jacket.

All the females he knew moved with grace and elegance, each movement demanding to be seen, but not Elain. All her movements were quiet, but strong— steady. She reminded him of his shadows, but lighter. 

Sol Trabem.”

Elain raised a brow as she handed him the glass. She helped him slide up into a half-sitting position. “Illyrian?” 

He nodded and ran his free hand through his hair. It was surprisingly clean of any twigs or blood. He had the distinct memory of falling into some mud as well…

He hoped, for her sake, that Elain hadn’t been the one to clean him up.

Elain fluffed his pillows as he took a sip of water, and he kept his eyes from betraying him when her little top dipped down to reveal—

“What does it mean?”

A blush rose on his cheeks, and he saw his shadows emerge, but he forced them away. He didn’t need to hide from her. 

“It means ‘Sun Beam’.”

Elain paused her fussing to look down at him. “Sol Trabem,” she said, testing the words out on her tongue. “I… Like it.”

He grinned and she leaned down to study his face. Her large brown eyes seemed to consume him, the rich chocolate color flecked with black was something he could lose himself in any time.

 She brushed back the hair on his brow, her gaze intense, but her voice soft as she asked, “How do you feel?” 

He smiled up at her, he had been doing a lot more smiling than he used to. He wondered if Elain knew it was because of her.

 “I feel fine. Sore and tired, but fine.”

Elain nodded and sat down, her weight barely shifting the mattress. She looked behind him, probably studying his wings. “Are they okay? Lucien told Rhys you sort of crashed into the street.”

Azriel shifted side to side, all he could do without sending a pang of hurt through the slash on his chest. “I think so.” 

He leaned back against the pillows and took another slow sip of water. Elain brushed her hair back with a hand, and it was then that Az noticed the purple bruises beneath her eyes. 

“Have you been having trouble sleeping?” 

Elain shrugged, “A little.”

He scooted over on the bed, smiling as cleared a space for her. Elain smiled sweetly and crawled up the bed, carefully lowering herself down at his side. 

“I can’t possibly allow my nurse to be sleep deprived,” he joked as she slipped under his arm. Her soft hair tickled his neck, and he planted a kiss on her brow. A delightful giggle slipped past her lips, and she turned her head to meet his gaze.

“It was primarily Madja that did anything, Az.” Her breath washed out over his collarbone and he couldn’t stop himself from drawing her closer.

“Maybe,” he sighed, “But you, Elain, you…”

Elain raised a brow, “I what?”

Had she not noticed the way his shadows disappeared in her presence? And how he could never quite banish his smile when she was near?

“You help.”

I found me a hopeless case (I resolve to love)

When Benvolio is sent on a dangerous mission, Rosaline realises that she hates the thought of losing him even more than she thought she hated marrying him. Because at some point over the months they’ve been married, she fell in love with her Montague husband - and it’s time for him to know.

[also on ao3]

Rosaline got married, as her liege decreed. She became a Montague, ran a Montague’s household, and shared in a Montague’s daily meals and various concerns.

And just when her Montague husband had begun to grow on her, the powers that had forced them together decided to rip them apart again.

Escalus announced it during a private audience just before another feast with the nobles of Verona, with no one else in attendance but Benvolio and their uncles. Rosaline was not invited, but Benvolio told her about it in rough strokes when they met up in the great hall’s antechamber before the feast.

Her husband had taken to reporting from his meetings, asking for her opinion on the things that were discussed and decided there, and Rosaline found that she liked knowing the goings-on at the palace, in the palazzos and guildhalls around town. In fact, Rosaline had more of a mind for it than Benvolio, who’d like nothing more than to escape to his statues and churches and leave the running of the city and its businesses to others - one of many surprising ways in which they had turned out to complement each other.

Benvolio revealed what Escalus had asked of him with a resigned expression that suggested he had already accepted it, and the sight sent a hot flash of anger through her.

Rosaline had long since realised how little her husband valued himself; poisoned by his uncle’s cutting words and uncaring actions. But the thing that Benvolio could not see and Lord Montague would not admit was that they were wrong: The man who had so reluctantly replaced Romeo as Montague heir, and had been resented by the Montague patriarch ever since for simply daring to survive where his son had not, was a better man than either of the heads of this city’s great houses – gentle and intelligent, and much more invested in actual peace for the s city than many others claimed to be.

He did not deserve this.

“They have asked you to do what?” 

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“There is a lot of confusion around the word neoliberalism, and about who is a neoliberal. And understandably so. So let’s break it down. Neoliberalism is an extreme form of capitalism that started to become dominant in the 1980s, under Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher, but since the 1990s has been the reigning ideology of the world’s elites, regardless of partisan affiliation. Still, its strictest and most dogmatic adherents remain where the movement started: on the US Right.

Neoliberalism is shorthand for an economic project that vilifies the public sphere and anything that’s not either the workings of the market or the decisions of individual consumers. It is probably best summarized by another of Reagan’s famous phrases, “The nine most terrifying words in the English language are: I’m from the government and I’m here to help.” Under the neoliberal worldview, governments exist in order to create the optimal conditions for private interests to maximize their profits and wealth, based on the theory that the profits and economic growth that follow will benefit everyone in the trickle-down from the top—eventually. If it doesn’t work, and stubborn inequalities remain or worsen (as they invariably do), then according to this worldview, that must be the personal failing of the individuals and communities that are suffering. They must have “a culture of crime,” or lack a “work ethic,” or perhaps it’s absentee fathers, or some other racially tinged excuse for why government policy and public funds should never be used to reduce inequalities, improve lives, or address structural crises.

The primary tools of this project are all too familiar: privatization of the public sphere, deregulation of the corporate sphere, and low taxes paid by cuts to public services, and all of this locked in under corporate-friendly trade deals. It’s the same recipe everywhere, regardless of context, history, or the hopes and dreams of the people who live there.

Climate change detonates the ideological scaffolding on which contemporary conservatism rests. To admit that the climate crisis is real is to admit the end of the neoliberal project. That’s why the Right is in rebellion against the physical world, against science (which is what prompted hundreds of scientists around the world to participate in the March for Science in April 2017, collectively defending a principle that really shouldn’t need defending: that knowing as much as possible about our world is a good thing.) But there is a reason why science has become such a battle zone—because it is revealing again and again that neoliberal business as usual leads to a species-threatening catastrophe.

What mainstream liberals have been saying for decades, by contrast, is that we simply need to tweak the existing system here and there and everything will be fine. You can have Goldman Sachs capitalism plus solar panels. But the challenge is much more fundamental than that. It requires throwing out the neoliberal rulebook and confront the centrality of every-expanding consumption in how we measure economic progress. In one sense, then, the members of Trump’s cabinet—with their desperate need to defy the reality of global warming, or belittle its implications—understand something that is fundamentally true: to avert climate chaos, we need to challenge the capitalist ideologies that have conquered the world since the 1980s. If you are the beneficiary of those ideologies, you are obviously going to be very unhappy about that. That’s understandable. Global warming really does have radical progressive implications. If it’s real—and it manifestly is—then the oligarch class continue to run riot without rules. Stopping them is now a matter of humanity’s collective survival.”

Naomi Klein, No Is Not Enough, p. 79-81