and she looks quite pleased with the fact that i can't speak

Bees Sting

This is for “Ash’s Negan Writing Challenge” . The prompt is “ Negan x OC with a mental health illness.”

Negan x Bee

Warnings ~ Negan language, self harm, bit of angst, fluffy Negan (for those of you that prefer a more assholey Negan)

1500 words

I am writing more to this but wasn’t sure it would be done in time. So be on the lookout for another chapter!

I’m only tagging @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash & @negans-network as I’m not sure who would like this.

Keep reading

Mellifluous - Ch. 2


Byun Baekhyun/Reader
Warnings: Smut in future chapters
Word Count: 1,615

Prev Chapter

You are sitting on a picnic bench on one of the smaller quads behind the Arts building. It’s a sunny and warm afternoon and a lot of people are scattered on the grass making use of the good weather and soaking up some vitamin D. Sehun himself is sitting across you, sunglasses on, leaning back on his hands and looking like he’s doing a photoshoot rather than relaxing.

Keep reading

I have nothing better to do than split hairs about sherlolly. Forgive me, it’s just that I’m still rewatching that amazing scene and I can’t really help myself.

So who loves you?

John suggests Irene Adler, because of the obvious attraction. But sex doesn’t equal love, and Sherlock does not associate Irene with love, he associates Molly. And it’s not just the natural ending of his deduction about the victim’s practicality about dead; Irene has lovers but she is a woman full of secrets so she is rather alone, and she’s far from innocent, I wouldn’t put past her amurder or two actually. Irene is a woman that will tell him I want you, like a new pet or a toy, she’s fascinated with him but in her brutal straightforwardness she would never speak of love, nor feel it in the selfless way it’s supposed to be felt. Don’t be ridiculous, he says to John, because John thought of her after the I love you, implying that she does love him, but SHerlock knows that hers is not love. He might be still quite dense on some things but he knows the difference between desire and sentiment.

He doesn’t espect for Irene to come to him when he calls or when he needs it, but he expects Molly to do it. It never occurred to him that she has not the strenght to provide whatever supports he needs because she’s always there, which is why he is upset that she ignores his call - But it’s me calling, and she can ignore someone else but she could never ignore him, and it hurts his pride. In the middle of a crisis, with her apartament less than 3 minutes away from blowing up he is upset that she would, for any reason, consciously decide to pass up on a chance to speak to him. I think ti throws him off his game a bit, later, when she answer his call, because she did something he did not predict. And when she tells him quickly then he still has trouble finding the words, because Sherlock does not want to speak about love with her, in fact Eurus must push him with a tick-tock from Moriarty. Sherlock needs for her to say the words, but at the same time a part of him knows he’s possibly doing something he won’t be able to undo, and doesn’t want to hear her say the words, he is not ready for that. If it was Irene speaking about love he would be  deducing how much of a lie that is and what’s her motive, what plan she has, where is the trick, but with Molly, if she says the words, even out of a script, there will still be love in it, because Molly is always painfully open.

I really loved when he says “No, I know you’re not an experiment. You’re my friend” with that hushing tone, like he wants to soothe her pain, because he’s truly sorry that he’s hurting her, because he knows she never valued her place in his life. He really didn’t give her much reason to, for a long time. Molly thought of herself as the one that doesn’t count, the one that is being John when he’s not around, but now she is important.

You know why - No I don’t know why. Really? He deduced that a long time ago at the Christmas party, and later her fiance was the bad copy of him, he can’t not know, he’s just refusing to see it because it scares him, It’s something bigger than he is, it’s something he doesn’t know how to handle or begin to deserve, so he’d rather not know. If she doesn’t love him he has no choice to make, no other way for him, no pother possible life to consider.

After she said it, he turns the switch and concentrate on the little girl again, interrupting Mycroft that is worried about him. Sherlock, however hard that was- that was a 3 minutes phone call and there’s no reason it should be hard on Sherlock unless Mycroft thinks that there was truth in his words. The fact that Sherlock ignores him and speaks to Eurus and concentrate on the next task is  the equivalent of him trying to hide himself from what has just happened. He’s saved Molly’s life, and maybe he’s hurt her but it’s nothing irreparable, there’s no reason why he should feel like hiding himself away unless what he said was true. I won, I won, was basically him rubbing in Eurus face that he’s fine, that forcing him into that concersation did not upset him, but You didn’t win, you lost. Look what you did to her. Look what you did to yourself, all those complicated little emotions, I lost count. Emotional context, it destroys you, every time. Now please, pull yourself together, I need you at the peek of efficency, the next one isn’t going to be so easy. Today they are soldiers, five people died in front of him and he’s been lucid up to this moment, even while she spoke he stayed immobile and apparently calm but she knows the damage she’s done, the walls she tore down, which is why she says pull yourself together. She had fun pushing the one button that could send Sherlock into a turmoil and then told him to pull yourself together. She kicked someone that was on the ground and then asked them what were they doing crawling on the floor.

And the coffin’s lid it’s been bothering so much, in a good way, because it was such a beautiful scene and I got why he smashed the coffin, but the exact reason for closing the coffin before doing so just escaped me, until I connected the dots too. I know Smith’s words were true and applied perfectly to the phone call but I did not realize it applied to this moment too. You can’t take it back, you can’t un-say it. Once you’ve opened your heart you can’t close it again. That’s what Sherlock is trying to do, he’s trying to get over the inner turmoil, the words she made him say have made come to light things he’d rather not know so he’s trying to phisically close his heart. Mycroft knows that something snapped inside Sherlock, which is why he stands still on the door and just watched him close the coffin without trying to make him follow as John does.

So many days unlived, so many words unspoken, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. So Eurus forced them to say the so many words unspoken, and if one of them should die that day at least they have been honest with each other, said those words that they would have regretted. In a tortuos way it was thoughtful of her, wasn’t it?

This isn’t torture, this is vivisection - Eurus has cut him open to see what there was on the inside. And there was Molly.

watching reflekta
  • (it has been literally seventeen years since the last one, forgive me)
  • photography dude: look-a at-a the-a camera-a
  • *in the distance*
  • adrien: *laughs*
  • marinette: thank u god for blessing me with this sunshine i am so thankful he is in my life god bless
  • marinette: and i'm even gonna be in a PHOTO WITH HIM??? this is too much
  • alya: you're in the same class
  • alya: god u need more help than i thought
  • juleka: at least you know you'll be in the photo
  • marinette: lol wut
  • juleka: *explains tragic backstory about not being able to take pictures which is super relatable like tbh*
  • marinette: don't worry fam i gotchu i'mma make sure your emo ass is in this picture
  • juleka: thnks
  • photography dude: alright-a kids-a let's-a get-a in-a place-a
  • marinette: i swear upon all that is holy-
  • *more children get in place for el pic pic*
  • photography dude: fuck-a off-a
  • adrien: *casually models*
  • marinette: god DAMN
  • photography dude: oh-a my-a goodness-a i-a almost-a forgot-a the-a emo-a child-a can-a stand-a by-a sunshine-a boy-a
  • chloe: *is a bitch and tries to fuKING CLIMB OVER JULEKA*
  • marinette: not again gdi
  • chloe: shut up marinette
  • adrien: don't talk to my girlfriend like that
  • adrien: *whispers to himself* that was a close one agreste
  • chloe: *is a bitch again*
  • adrien: *sighs*
  • marinette: *sighs*
  • the entire universe: *sighs*
  • photography dude: oh-a no-a it-a looks-a like-a my-a camera-a has-a run-a out-a film-a brb-a
  • juleka: can i go take an angsty poop?
  • mme bustier: i don't see why not
  • chloe @sabrina: make sure she doesn't come back mwahahaha
  • *in the bathroom*
  • juleka: *taking a shit in peace*
  • sabrina: *finds an extremely conveniently placed chair just chilling in the bathroom, like??? what kind of school just casually has chairs in the bathrooms? must be a french thing*
  • sabrina: *presses the chair against the handle to the stall so juleka can't get out*
  • juleka: shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit
  • juleka: literally lol
  • *back at el photo photo thing*
  • chloe: *frikin like does some weird ass shimmy jump thing to land beside adrien*
  • marinette: get tf away from my boo
  • adrien @chloe: how did u even get here you were like quite a ways away how
  • chloe: shhh shhh speak not of the past shhhh *grabs adriens face and points it towards the camera*
  • *photo is taken*
  • marinette: wait! we have to retake it! juleka wasn't here
  • adrien&otherclassmates: o yeah wasn't she taking a shit or something
  • phography dude: okay-a lunch-a break-a so-a i-a can-a eat-a my-a feelings-a in-a pizza-a
  • *in the bathroom*
  • rose: *sees the blocked off stall* O SHIT WADDUP
  • rose: *frees emo child*
  • juleka: *gross sobbing* *flees from the bathroom*
  • rose: did u even wash your hands...ya nasty
  • *le rose tells le marinette that le juleka was locked in le bathroom and they need to redo le picture*
  • hawkmoth: hey there angsty child boy can i relate to you ahaha i have my own inner demons
  • *swaggy cool akumaaa*
  • marinette: lol time to go steal dat camera
  • tikki: first y'all were stealing phones, now y'all be stealing cameras, da fuk be next?
  • marinette: *sneakity sneak*
  • chloe: *records marinette sneakity sneaking* hah bitch
  • chloe&sabrina: *walk into the office where marinette is*
  • marinette: shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit
  • *meanwhile reflekta be transforming people to look like her and shiz which isn't a bad look for most of them tbh, i'm looking @ u andre bourgeois*
  • hawkmoth: nICE, it won't be long now until ladybug and chat noir show up to show their face
  • hawkmoth:
  • hawkmoth:
  • hawkmoth: wait that's like the same thing fICK
  • adrien: o boi o boi time to save the day
  • *cat boy has arrived*
  • chat noir: hmm the exit is blocked
  • nino: *opens a door* OMG YOU GUYS LOOK IT'S CHAT NOIR
  • chat noir: boi u just gave away my hiding spot gdi if you weren't my only friend i'd mess u up
  • reflekta: *transforms chat noir*
  • chat noir: thIS BITCH
  • *meanwhile marinette manages to steal chloe bitchwad's phone i s2g this child need so much help she's going to prison one of these days*
  • *also a wild ladybug appears*
  • chat noir: *sees lb and reflekta fighting*
  • chat noir: i may look like lady gaga rn but i can't let my lady get hurt
  • chat noir: *tries to walk and falls down*
  • chat noir: i should just give up now
  • *more fighting with lb and reflekta*
  • chat noir: *saves ladybug from a close encounter and reflekta flees the fuK outta there*
  • chat noir: lol hi my lady
  • ladybug: chat noir?
  • chat noir: yeah hi lol it's me chat noir thank goodness you didn't recognize me as adrien bc that would have been awkward hah
  • ladybug: is that really you
  • chat noir: yeah can't you tell by my swagger
  • ladybug: #stop
  • chat noir: anyways we gotta deakumatize that emo child
  • ladybug: wut u gonna do, throw ur shoes at her?
  • chat noir: dOHNT SASS MEH
  • *so much teasing between the two and them being adorable aS FRICK*
  • ladybug: *grabs chat and yoyos the fuck outta there*
  • *reflekta transforming people elsewhere*
  • ladybug: *sends a message to paris for how she's gonna defeat reflekta, which reflekta conveniently sees*
  • ladybug: lol now reflekta will come here
  • chat noir: and fall right into my claws *kisses lb's hand*
  • ladybug: *DOESN'T WITHDRAW HER HAND* you mean your nails
  • *reflekta trolls lb and shit noir*
  • chat noir: *jumps in front of ladybug to keep her from getting hit by one of reflekta's zappy zap zaps*
  • chat noir: *with a very pained expression* it's okay, i already look like shit, so i can't get worse lol
  • ladybug: *WITH THE MOST FUCKING SINCERE VOICE* thanks m8
  • *fighting fighting and deakumatization*
  • *peeps gettin changed back to their old selves including chat noir who turns back into chat noir bUT HOW GR8 WOULD IT HAVE BEEN IF HE TURNED BACK INTO ADRIEN*
  • ladybug@chatnoir: *DAAAAAAAMN LADYBUG BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE SINCERE VOICE* you were pretty frikin swaggy today
  • chat noir: and with those shoes tho
  • juleka: where? the? hell? am? i?
  • ladybug: ayo andre can u take my homegirl back to her school
  • mayor bourgeois: yeah buddy
  • ladybug: gotta blast
  • chat noir: @god thank u so much for this beautiful opportunity i will never take my life for granted again i am so blessed so so blessed rn my prayers have finally been answered thank u
  • *back at the hellhol-i mean school*
  • marinette: lol i probably shouldn't have stolen this
  • tikki: thank god you've changed ur criminal ways i was preeeetty worried there ngl
  • photography dude: i-a don't-a know-a we-a don't-a really-a have-a time-a for-a that-a
  • marinette: yeh but i know for a fact that adrien looks really good in the lighting in the park so
  • photography dude: shit-a you're-a right-a let's-a fucking-a go-a
  • *children at the park in their spots for el picture, geddit? spots? bc ladybug? i'm hilarious*
  • adrien: *leans in rIGHT NEXT TO MARI* lol this was a good idea how did u know i look really good in this lighting
  • marinette: *sweating* ahahaha, lucky guess?
  • (geddit? lucky? bc she's ladybug? and is lucky? i am on FIRE TODAY)
  • chloe: *in the distance watching them* psshhhh like i would even want to *sniffles* be in *tears up* that photo *a single tear rolls down her cheek*
  • *and then the class takes some beautiful photos that hurt my heart every time bc they so pure and alSO ADRIEN AND MARINETTE SITTING BY EACH OTHER ON A BENCH THIS IS TOO MUCH*
Whiskey and Lipstick

(for you, athenasdragon <3)

Part 1

Jack Thompson reclined in his seat like a king on a throne, the agents gathered around him his fawning vassals. Sousa had to admire the way the man could command attention, even if he didn’t always have to appreciate it. For the moment, though, he was content to let Thompson have all the attention and admiration his heart desired (which was a hell of a lot of attention and admiration, in Sousa’s personal opinion). They were here to celebrate Thompson. It was Thompson’s moment. For once, Sousa felt no particular inclination to deflate the man’s ego. It was his own little gift to their new chief.

The clinking of a fork on a glass brought his attention away from Thompson, his gaze turning instead to Agent Marks. The man was getting to his feet slightly drunkenly, placing his hand on Thompson’s shoulder to steady himself. Sousa noticed Thompson shooting that hand a very unimpressed look. “I’d like to make a toast,” Marks declared. “To Jack Thompson. He’s finally made chief, just like he’s always deserved, and we as an agency and as people will flourish under his leadership. He was born to lead, and we were born to follow him. This man is the stuff legends are made of, the kind of hero that songs are written about. To Jack!” he cried, raising his glass in the air. Some of its contents sloshed out, but Marks paid it no heed.

The other agents cheered appreciatively, but it was more for Marks’s drunkenness than for the new leadership they were going to flourish under. Thompson gave the hand Marks had rested on his shoulder a shove, sending the man staggering sideways. “Sit down,” Thompson said. “You’re embarrassing everyone.” Marks collapsed obediently back into his seat, looking a little disheartened and very drunk.

“He’s right though, Jack,” Agent Boudreau piped up. “You do deserve this. We’re all happy to have you as our chief.”

“Thank you, Boudreau,” said Thompson, raising his glass to his lips. “I look forward to seeing you all flourish.”

The revelries continued, the group of agents growing increasingly louder and more boisterous as the night wore on. Sousa sat back and nursed his drink, not feeling particularly inclined to join in their antics; tonight he was content to simply observe. And his object of observation for the night was Jack Thompson. The man could hold an audience when he wanted, but Sousa noted that as time went by, Thompson seemed less and less inclined to do so. Just as he could command attention, he was equally capable of relinquishing it, letting himself fade into the background. Sousa had never seen that side of Thompson. He always seemed perfectly happy to be the centre of attention – thrived on it, even. And it would have been easy to stay there on this occasion, considering the entire night had been planned explicitly for the purpose of placing the spotlight on him. But as Sousa watched, Thompson slowly let himself drift to the sidelines, his easy smile gracing his face less frequently, his eyes growing ever more distant. That latter fact might have had something to do with the whiskey. Sousa noted Thompson hadn’t exactly been holding back on that.

A particularly enthusiastic and entertaining story about a whale that Agent Heinz was relating drew Sousa’s attention away from Thompson for a moment, and when he turned back he found the new chief’s eyes locked on him. It was a little unsettling. Thompson’s gaze was very intense. And it seemed undeterred by the fact Sousa had noticed it. In Sousa’s experience, most men, when caught staring at another man’s face, would look away. Apparently Thompson hadn’t gotten that memo.

After a few – increasingly awkward – moments of this, Thompson got out of his seat and moved around the table, pulling up a chair beside Sousa and sprawling into it. “You’re awful quiet tonight, Sousa,” he remarked, taking another sip of whiskey.

Sousa shrugged. “I figured I shouldn’t insult you on your big night.”

“And you’ve got nothing to say if you’re not insulting me?”

“It does take up an inordinate amount of my time.”

Thompson chuckled. “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or offended.”

“Definitely offended. If you start getting flattered it defeats the purpose.”

“The last thing I’d want to do is take the wind out of your sails.”

“Yeah, I know how much you hate stepping on other people.” Sousa glanced around. “Isn’t Peggy supposed to be here?”

“She is here. We just don’t see her because she’s not getting us our coffee or our lunch orders.”

Sousa shot Thompson a disapproving look. “Not funny, Jack.”

Thompson smirked. “A little funny.” He reclined back in his chair. “She had somethin’ to do first – some night out with Martinelli, I think. Said she’d be along later.” His gaze was fixed on Sousa’s face again, watching his every move. “Lookin’ forward to finally gettin’ that drink with her, agent?” he asked.

“Shut up, Jack,” Sousa muttered, taking a sip from his own glass, mostly so he could have a reason not to meet Thompson’s eye. The other man continued to watch him, and Sousa shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Jack Thompson was an ass, and Sousa wanted more than anything to punch him right now. But there was something else – some other feeling that Sousa couldn’t quite put his finger on – that kept twisting its way through his gut whenever Thompson looked at him like that.

“Just a question,” Thompson drawled. His eyes still hadn’t moved from Sousa’s face. “Still got that thing for her, or was rejection enough to extinguish that torch you’ve been carrying?” Sousa’s fingers tightened around his glass so tightly his knuckles turned white. Before he could speak, Thompson slung an arm around his shoulders and gave him a little shake. “Aw, lighten up, Danny. I’m only teasin’.”

“Maybe you should work on your social skills,” Sousa muttered. But Thompson’s arm was still around his shoulders, the heat of the other man’s body pressed against his side, and he was finding it hard to keep hold of his anger.

Thompson didn’t get a chance to reply. At that moment, they noticed a sudden silence descending upon the bar, and they both glanced up, trying to pinpoint its source. It wasn’t hard to spot. There in the doorway stood Peggy Carter. Her hair was curled. Her makeup was done to perfection. Her lips were painted a bold scarlet, and she wore a dress to match. It was the image of elegance and class, but there was something in the cut of the neckline and the way it clung to every curve of her body that could chase all respectable thoughts from a man’s head. Everyone watched in silence as she crossed the room.

“Lookin’ good, Carter!” one of the agents called finally. It was enough to break the awed quiet that had seized the bar, and the other agents were quick to throw out their own appreciative comments.

Peggy ignored them. Her eyes were on Thompson and Sousa, and she angled straight for them, pulling up a chair beside Sousa and seating herself without ever acknowledging the other agents even existed. She smiled. “Hello, boys.”

“You look real nice, Peggy,” Sousa managed to get out. Her appearance and her proximity and the fact that her attention was focused almost exclusively on him made it a little hard to form words.

“Thank you, Daniel,” she said, flashing him another smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“That was a hell of an entrance, Carter,” said Thompson. He didn’t seem to have any problems forming words, though he seemed affected enough to have forgotten the fact that his arm was still draped over Sousa’s shoulders. Sousa wasn’t about to remind him. The closeness of Thompson’s body and Peggy’s smile and the liquor in his belly were all making him feel very warm and comfortable, and he wasn’t quite ready for the feeling to end.

Peggy rolled her eyes. “You have no idea how often this happens to me,” she informed Thompson. “It’s absurd, truly. It’s like some men have never seen a woman before.”

“Maybe just not a woman like you,” said Thompson. His voice was low and rough, and it sent a thrill through Sousa’s body. It gave Sousa some satisfaction to know that Peggy was having an effect on Thompson too.

Peggy snorted. “Please, Agent Thompson, flattery doesn’t become you.”

“Chief,” said Thompson.

“Ah, yes,” said Peggy. “That will take some getting used to. But I will endeavor to do so, Chief Thompson.” Sousa could feel Thompson take a particularly deep breath at the sound of this name rolling off Peggy’s tongue, and he raised his eyebrows. Apparently Thompson was more affected that he’d thought. Peggy smiled brightly. “I suppose I owe you congratulations, chief, and a drink.”

“At least one,” said Thompson.

“I don’t think you need any more than that, Jack,” said Sousa. “You’ve already had plenty.”

“I’m going to take advantage of all the free whiskey I can get,” Thompson said. “Wouldn’t want it to go to waste.” His arm tightened a little around Sousa, and Sousa leaned into him slightly in response.

Peggy arched an eyebrow at them. “You boys seem comfortable,” she said.

“Like my very own radiator,” said Sousa, patting Thompson’s arm. Thompson chuckled, and Sousa could feel the sound rumbling in his chest. The chief reached his hand up to ruffle Sousa’s hair, then released him, the sudden withdrawal of the arm leaving Sousa feeling cold and a little exposed. But he couldn’t complain. He knew the moment had lasted far longer than it should have been.

“You missed Marks’s toast,” Thompson informed Peggy, throwing back the rest of the liquor in his glass.

“Oh what a shame,” said Peggy. “I hate to miss anything Marks has to say about you. What songs of praise did he have to sing this evening?”

Thompson shrugged. “The stuff legends are made of. The usual.”

“We’ll flourish under his leadership,” Sousa added.

Peggy snorted inelegantly and shook her head. “I need a drink,” she decided.

For the rest of the evening, Sousa couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Peggy Carter was the most lively, vibrant drinker he had ever met. She laughed and told stories with the agents. She joked and swore with the bartender. At one point she even tried to hit somebody with a chair, but Sousa was quick to intervene. A brawl would only have ruined a perfectly lovely evening.

Sousa was dimly aware of Thompson drifting off into the background again. But it was only a vague thought in the back of his mind. The majority of his senses were consumed by Peggy. Peggy touching his arm. Peggy laughing at his jokes. Peggy smiling at him like he was the only person in the room.

It was after one particularly well-delivered line about a kettle that Sousa noticed something change in the air between them. Peggy didn’t laugh – a little rude, considering it was the best joke Sousa had made all night. Instead, she tilted her head to the side, examining him with a strange look on her face. “Are you alright, Peggy?” Sousa asked, concerned by this sudden turn of events.

“I… I am,” she said. She cleared her throat and looked away for a moment, before turning back to him a little hesitantly. “I was just thinking – if the offer is still on the table – that I might like to get that drink with you sometime,” she said.

Sousa’s face broke out in a grin. “Saturday work for you?”

Peggy beamed at him. “I’ll clear my schedule.”

Thompson chose that moment to get abruptly to his feet. “I’m calling it a night, kids,” he said. “Don’t have too much fun without me.” He drained his glass and headed for the door, swaying slightly.

Sousa sighed. “I’m going to make sure he gets in a cab before he gets hit by one,” he said, standing and shooting Peggy an apologetic look.

She nodded. “Please do.”

Night had fallen while they were in the bar, and at some point a downpour had begun. Sousa was instantly drenched as he stepped outside. He peered through the night and the rain, only just able to make out the figure of Thompson moving a little unsteadily towards the street. Hurrying forward, Sousa placed a steadying hand on other man’s arm. Thompson started slightly and blinked at him in confusion. “What’re you doing?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you be inside with your girlfriend?”

Sousa sighed. “Just making sure you get home safely, Jack.”

“I’ll be fine. The rain’s very sobering.”

“Maybe. But I’ll feel a lot better once you’re safely inside a taxi.”

Thompson didn’t reply. He was staring a Sousa again, that strange, intense look in his eyes, this time mixed with a touch of something desperate. And before Sousa knew what was happening, Thompson was grabbing him, pulling him forward into kiss. Sousa’s heart lurched in his chest as his senses were overwhelmed by the warmth of Thompson’s breath, the taste of whiskey on Thompson’s tongue, the scrape of Thompson’s stubble against his face. And then it was over. Thompson pulled back, clutching at Sousa’s jacket and fixing him with that same, desperate gaze. “Come home with me, Daniel,” he said. His voice was husky and pleading, and Sousa was overcome by a sudden urge to take Thompson in his arms and kiss him again.

Instead, he shook his head. “I can’t, Jack,” he whispered. “I can’t.”

Thompson took a step back, letting the fabric of Sousa’s jacket fall from his hands. “Goodnight, Sousa,” he said. He went to hail down a cab.

Sousa was left standing in the rain, his body numb, his mind consumed by thoughts of whiskey and lipstick.

(Part 2) (Part 3)

Always... - 4 (Tony/Reader)

Part One  Part Two  Part Three

Originally posted by duckbuttt

Fury walked into the engine room near the turbine. He looked at everyone giving them the sign to clear out. Finally it was just him and you. He approached the panel you were working on.

“I told Phil you were going to kill me, but he didn’t listen.” You told him as you pulled a bunch of wires out looking at them carefully.

“What’s wrong with it?” Fury asked pointing at what you were working on.

“It’s running too hot, figured if I can get in here and transfer some of the power into a secondary grid we’ll be fine until we land and I can get everything I need for a bigger panel.” You rolled your neck as you stood up for some air and looked at him, “But this isn’t why you’re here.”

“No it’s not and I’m not going to kill you.” He shook his head rolling his one good eye, “You’re too good at what you do to be dead.”

“Oh well that’s a bit of a relief.” You told him wiping your hands on a towel.

“What I wanted to talk to you about was what happened at the party.” He watched you carefully as you put your tools into your case, “You didn’t do what we wanted in fact quite the opposite.”


“Its fine, we think you instigated something much more to our use.” He told you leaning against the wall.

“I did? Didn’t know blubbering all over a thousand dollar dress did that, but ok.” You turned to him putting your hands on your hips, “What did I do?”

“You gave him rage, just a little flame. Enough that if he sees you it might push him over the edge to find out why we chose you over him.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Uh huh, so I’ve become bait.” You nodded as you picked up a tablet and began hooking up wires from it to the panel.

“I’m sure you’re aware of the incident that happen and the press conference. Agent Coulson has his foot in the door, now it’s my turn.” He told you obviously irritated by Tony’s speech.

“Ah yes his complete and utter egotistical self-righteous I’m the badass moment, ‘I am Iron Man’.” You mimicked Tony and rolled your eyes, “So like him, but I’m still not seeing where I come in.”

Fury sighed, “For now nothing, but when the time comes everything.”

You tensed and turned back to him, “When you say everything…”

“To a degree. Hopefully won’t have to come to it at all.” He told you pushing off the wall.

“So I’m officially stuck here, until you need me…fantastic. You’re lucky I like the pay and the toys.” You looked down to the tablet swiping to a different screen. You took a deep breath seeing your records had been looked into, “He’s been checking in on me, still is. He won’t find anything though will he?”

“Not unless you want him too.” He stepped up next to you.

You sighed heavily, “I’ve been avoiding him for over twenty years, and then four months ago my world crumbled when they said he was missing in war zone.”

“I know, I read the file. What you did, considering the circumstances, he should be grateful.” He told you putting a hand on your shoulder, “Something is coming, we got a hint of it back with the Captain. We just don’t know when it’s coming.”

You looked at him and nodded starting a diagnostic on your tablet, “Fine, but I want access to everything I need. I won’t be responsible for this tin bucket crashing.”

“Tin bucket, this is not a tin bucket.” Nick Fury was very proud of his moving air base.

“Yeah, see, you asked me to spy on Tony Stark.” You smirked as you put the tablet down, “And he has technology that isn’t integrated into this place. It is way better then this…uh…this…”

“Tin…bucket…” He mumbled.

“Let me remodel please, it’ll give me something to do. I’ll start with bridge; I promise you’ll like it.” You pleaded putting your hands coming together in a prayer like motion.

He shook his head knowing you were right. This place was good for a physical fight, but not for cyber warfare, “I want plans first, then we’ll talk.”

“I sent you an email and a folder this morning.” You smiled saluting him.

He rolled his eye shaking his head, "I’ll look at them and talk them over with the big wigs.”

“Alright, till then I’ll continue with…the tin bucket.” She turned back to the mess of wires in the panel.

Tony looked at everything on his screens slouching in his chair, “This is ridiculous.”

“What is?” Pepper was looking through some paper work on the couches next to him.

“I am off the grid, there are literally no headlines about me anywhere.” He told her in a whining tone, “You know what this means?”

“That you finally grew up some, and are not flying around in a suit of armor getting shot at?” Pepper rambled off not looking up from her work.

Tony didn’t listen to her, “I need to throw a party a big one, huge!”

She sighed and shook her head, “Tony…”

“And I know where I’m going to do it too! Well…the start of it at least.” He smirked turning to her, “The Expo.”

“Oh no Tony, you can't…” Pepper looked at him finally eyes wide, “This is too important for you…”

“I’m gonna set it up right now, Jarvis.” He stood up walking toward the stairs.

“Jarvis don’t listen to him.” Pepper stood up following after him, “Tony seriously.”

“I want to have fun alright. It’s been three months since everything happened and I want a party.” He started walking away more quickly from her to his workshop, “Is that so hard to ask?”

“For you yes, don’t you remember Dubai?” Pepper crossed her arms standing at the top of the stairs.

“Uh actually I don’t.” He smirked winking at her.

“Exactly!” He chuckled going down the stairs. He keyed in the code and watched the automated lights switch on. After everything that had happened he had taken Agent Coulson’s and Mr. Fury’s advice and laid low, but he was getting restless.

He clicked open a few files and looked at them. He’d been making some minor improvements to the suit but nothing drastic. There wasn’t much he could do yet. So instead he invested sometime in revisiting his father’s idea, the 'Stark Expo’. Once again though it could only do so much and it involved meeting with people he didn’t care for.

“Sir my new firewalls are detecting that someone is accessing your personal files.” Jarvis spoke in his sophisticated tone.

“What? Can you trace it?” Tony started clicking on the keyboard. Whoever was getting into his system was good.

“Sir they’re accessing your medical files.”

“Stop them!” Tony shouted at Jarvis, “Or at least delay them enough that I can get into their systems.” He watched his screen go black. He scowled tapping the screen hopelessly.

“Why the long face?” Appeared on his screen in white letters.

“Oh you son of a…” Tony started to speak.

“Language.” Appeared with the cursor blinking after it.

“Really Jarvis! What do I pay you for?” Tony shouted and looked back at the screen. His nose flared as his eyes narrowed on the screen, “Alright, so you can hear and see me right?”


“What do you want?” Tony leaned back and waited for a reply. When nothing came, “Alright then, so you want information on my health, so I’ll tell you about it. I am just fine.”

“However, I am very pissed off. So when I figure out who this is, I’m gonna find you… and you’re gonna regret everything.” He spoke in low intense tones.

“I already do.” You stared at him on your tablet screen, you sighed and typed, “Goodbye Mister Stark.”

You’d gotten the information that you needed about how the arc reactor in his chest was starting to affect him. It was poisoning him. It was slow going, but from what you could tell it would progress the longer he had it in him.

“Oh Tony.” You hand went your mouth watching him get angry and start throwing things around. He always did act irrationally when he didn’t get what he needed. You sighed touching the screen, “I promise I’ll help you, just hold on.”

You gave the findings to Fury. He sighed looking at the readings, “Can you fix him?”

“It’ll take time. I’ll need access to all the arc reactor information. What I have from Stark Industries and Tony’s personal files is a good start, but if you have ways to get me more…” You swallowed crossing your arms uncomfortably. You were never good at all this spy stuff.

“I’ll give you everything from Howard’s work.” Fury told you putting the file down and looking at you, “If I need Stark in the future, I’ll need him alive.”

You nodded not liking how he said that. It made it seem like he was considering Tony a lost cause already.

“Is there something else Miss L/N?” Fury looked at you intently letting his finger tips meet.

“Yeah, I don’t appreciate you acting like he’s a means to an end for you. He’s a person. A living, breathing, feeling person.” You turned walking out of his office before he could give you a retort.

Fury smirked shaking his head and pulled out his phone, “Agent Romanoff, I have a job for you.”

This is No Accident

Title: This Is No Accident
Chapter/One Shot: Chapter 17
Original Imagine:
Imagine Loki meeting a single pregnant Midgardian woman during his exile and falling in love with her and her unborn child.
Author: starrynight35
Rating: M
Once again, thank you for your comments, likes, and reblogs!

Chapter 17

As the guards moved to take Loki back to his cell, Odin addressed Thor.
“Thor, I am tasking you with the job of retrieving the Midgardian woman. If Loki returns himself, I fear he will not come back willingly.”
Loki glared at Odin.
“She has a name. I trust you’ll use it when you speak with her,” he sneered.
The guards jerked Loki’s chains, pulling him toward the hallway and into the darkness of the dungeon.

When Thor reached the Bifrost, he stopped. “Heimdall, how is Lady Emma?”
Heimdall gave Thor a reassuring smile.
“She loves your brother very much. She misses him. I believe she would do anything for him. These days have proven to be her worst days ever. Go now.”

Rather than barge into Loki’s flat as he had in the past, Thor decided to knock in case Emma was indisposed. He waited, hearing light footsteps coming closer to the door. When Emma opened the door, he immediately understood Heimdall’s haste.

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Amaranthine (4/6)

Summary: Modern soulmates CS AU.  In which soulmates are rare, and those that have them stop aging at adulthood.  Rarer still – and dangerously conspicuous – are those that have special abilities.  Immortality and powers alike fade when soulmates come in close proximity with their other half.   In which Emma’s touch heals, and Killian’s kills.

Rated: M

Warnings: Language, blood

Words: ~4400

Part: One, Two, Three

Notes:  I can’t even begin to describe how much everyone’s love and encouragement about this story means to me.  Your messages, reviews, likes, and reblogs mean everything to me.  This part is a bit shorter, a bit slower, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.  As always, my love and devotion to @seastarved​ for her help with early drafts and for that edit up there.  And to @is-that-what-it-is​ and @high-seas-swan​ for reading through the final draft.

Also on ff and ao3

Killian wakes to Emma pulling at the chains around his neck, the echoes of a nightmare fading as he blinks away the blur of – judging by the cast of the moonlight – naught but a few hours of sleep.  He feels sluggish, a sheen of sweat on his skin.

“S’I talking again, love?” he slurs.

She nods as she draws her fingers over his pendants, first the silver sword, then over the skull and crossbones.  She seems contemplative, a furrow knit between her brow.  He reaches up, smoothing it over.

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A Sick Kashima is Always a Strange Kashima

Title: A Sick Kashima is Always a Strange Kashima

Pairing: HoriKashi

Summary: Never before had he ever felt such a burning desire to smack her upside the head.

Warning(s): None

Disclaimer: All rights belong to the genius author.

Comments: Please Enjoy! (I’m not dead, by the way)


The first thought that popped into Kashima’s mind when her vision started to blur was how she had barely managed to dodge the almost too real sword Hori had aimed at her. If not for her naturally quick reflexes, she surely would have been skewered.

The second thought that popped into her head once she felt the oncoming signs of a headache was of trying to quickly hide the sudden lapse in her usually smooth movements. She was aware that Hori, ever so vigilant, would have definitely caught on, and they would have been forced to stop the practice once he clearly caught onto the slight flinch of her shoulders and the way she seemed slightly less balanced than normal.

Belying the bout of dizziness following a feverish heat, Kashima fervently charged as a well-practiced battle cry ripped from her throat. She ignored the intense burning in her throat to take another well-aimed swing, an incredible feat in itself as she felt herself momentarily lose balance.

‘It hurts. I wonder… What’s wrong with me… ’

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Amaranthine (3/6)

Summary: Modern soulmates CS AU.  In which soulmates are rare, and those that have them stop aging at adulthood.  Rarer still – and dangerously conspicuous – are those that have special abilities.  Immortality and powers alike fade when soulmates come in close proximity with their other half.   In which Emma’s touch heals, and Killian’s kills.

Rated: M

Warnings: Language, mentions of homelessness, smut

Words: ~7300

Part: One, Two

Notes:  You guys, I can’t even begin to express how grateful I am for your response to this story.  Your reviews and messages, likes and reblogs have quite literally made me cry.  I love and appreciate every single one of you.  As always, my love and devotion to @seastarved for her help with early drafts and for that edit up there.  And to @is-that-what-it-is and @high-seas-swan for reading through the final draft.

Also on ff and ao3

Aye love, I do.

The words fall out of his mouth, and Emma feels as though she falls into the eye of some kind of storm. Sometimes it’s ugly, and it’s messy, and they skirt into the storm proper – their walls climbing, him pushing and her pushing back, peeling away the layers of terror and torment until they’re both so raw and so exposed that they spend hours at a time just breathing and leaning into one another on a bench as close to the rush of the river as they can manage.

But – oh God, sometimes – he’ll talk about the water, the way it moves, the grit of wet sand beneath his feet, or about the simple joy of swimming on a lonely beach after midnight, bright, bioluminescent algae following in his wake.  And she’ll talk about the smell of the Boston Harbor, the thrill of taking down a skip, the gentle rush of warmth in the ridge of her spine when she brushes away pain and hurt and illness.  She’ll lean into him, and he’ll look down at her, and the cerulean swirling in his eyes will calm the beat of her heart, until her pulse thrums in answer to his.

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Prompt response

A/N: Prompt from the wonderful @kara-lesbihonest I hope I do your fantastic idea justice! It picks up near the end of the ‘S’ reveal balcony scene.

A/N2: This is the first fic I’ve posted in… well, years, actually. I’m horrendously nervous. I’m also really glad it’s a Supergirl/Supercat fic that got me posting again because I am so proud of how fantastic the fandom for this ship is already. You all have been so wonderful about including everyone and creating beautiful fanon pieces from the beginning. So thank you, Supercat supporters.

Two Steps Forward

The jangling of Kara’s typically upbeat ringtone disturbed the charged silence the two women had been sharing since Cat had finally used Kara’s other name and jolted them both from the moment that had so much potential. Kara shuffled the various things in her hands and Cat wondered why she felt quite so disappointed at the interruption.

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anonymous asked:

can you please write a second part to the story which Gail tells Holly she can't keeping doing this? Pleaaaaaase! Thank you!

Hey. Sorry this took so long for me to get out. It’s not great, but it’s the best that I could do. I hope you like it! :)

[part 1 can be found here]

It’s only when the cool air hits her face that Holly grasps the magnitude of what she’s done - that she has in-fact kissed her straight friend; on the lips, multiple times.

She’s pretty sure she felt her up too, now that she’s thinking about it.

The thought alone is enough to make her freeze as the panic sears through her body unceremoniously; a myriad of emotions working to disable the remnant of lust spreading throughout her system. But she doesn’t have time to dwell on this matter, not when Gail is exiting the premise and slipping her hand readily into her own.

And just like that she knows that things are different, that they have changed.

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Heartbroke Part 1 - Requested (Ashton)

Hey! This request wasn’t given much detail so i went with a different angel of being cheated on to hopefully make it a little different. (hii can you write a sad ashton imagine about how he cheated on you) ENJOY!!!

‘Babe am I okay to go out tonight?’ You ask heading into the living room where Ashton is lying on the floor with Billy stretched out at his arms; you smile and sit next to them crossing your legs.

'I’m going out tonight’ he tells you sitting up with Billy and bouncing him in his knee.

'You are?’ You frown and he nods. 'Yeah I asked you last week and you said it was fine, I can’t really cancel it’s for Gab’s birthday he explain and you nod waving you hand a little.

'Of course, sorry I completely forgot, it’s no worries I will text Kate’ you tell him, but he shakes his head 'no, no don’t do that you haven’t had a night to yourself for a while, I’m sure mum will have him’ he tells you, pulling his phone from his pocket but you snatch it from him.

'No it’s fine honestly’ you drop his phone on the sofa as you stand up, you hold the door frame as you walk through and then swing back, which catches Ashton’s attention 'oh and he has just are Ash, you’re gonna be covered in puke’ you state matter of fact.

You’re loading the steriliser and chatting to Kate on the phone when Ashton walks in you turn hearing Billy’s little sounds. And see Ashton straight faces with milk sick down his shirt, you bite you lip reaching your arms out to take Billy, Ashton narrows his eyes as he hands him over ‘don’t say it’ he mutters, you hold Billy in your arms and laugh a little, ‘Kate I will call you back’ you speak into the phone, watching Ashton pull off his shirt.

'No wait, tell her your free tonight’ he shouts, you frown telling Kate you need a second. 'What?’ You ask.

'I called my mum, she’s free to have Bill’ he tells you and then flashes you a goofy grin, you roll your eyes. 'Kate I’m free tonight’ you speak; she cheers before you hang up.

'I told you not to bother your mum’ you whine, he shakes his head moving closer to you, he places a hand in your hip and strokes Billy’s cheek with the other, 'she loves having him, I mean look at him, who wouldn’t want to cuddle with a mini me all night’ he winks and you laugh pressing into him as much as Billy would let you.

'I love you’ you tell him pecking his lips, when you pull away you see he is smirking and narrow your eyes a little 'what?’ You question.

'Is that all I get?’ He wiggles his eyebrows and you laugh leaning forward a little.

'NO PDA INFRONT OF THE LITTLE ONE’ Michael screams rushing into the room and taking Billy from you, the perks of your husband being I a band, they just wonder into your house.


You hand the money to the driver and smile politely ‘Keep the change Wol’ you tell him, after chatting the whole half an hour car ride from the club. You haven’t drunk much while being out, but you had fun, just like the old days with the girls. You unlock the door to your house, and shocked to see a pair of high heels thrown on the floor near the door. You sigh imagining Michael or Calum shaking up with some stranger in your spare room.

You sneak up the stairs as quite as possible not to disturb your guests. The door to yours and Ashton’s bedroom is ajar and there is a dim light coming through to the landing, you, push the door open and freeze.

Your heart stops beating, your eyes stinging, a ball rises in your throat, and you realise you haven’t breathed for a moment. ‘Ashton’ you breath out, his head turns, looking over his shoulder, you see in the dim light his eyes widen before throwing himself on the other side of the bed.

’(Y/N)’ his voice is groggy, exactly the way he sounds after you guys have sex, but this time it doesn’t make you smile or bite your lip, instead it disgusts you, you can feel bile raising in your throat.

'I..I don’t’ you can form any words as you let your eye wonder to the naked stranger lying in your half of the bed. And you spin, tears streaming, when you reach the bottom of the stairs you cling to the banister and squeeze your eyes closed, you breath in heavily, your who body numb but your insides feel like they are on fire. You hear a bang upstairs and footsteps, you can’t see him; you rush through your door and down the street. You rest your back against the wall before sliding down, your tears flowing, your chest aching, mind spinning. Your there for a while until you pull yourself together enough to call a taxi and go to Anne’s house.


You unbuckle Billy’s car seat and take him in your arm, you carry him to the gate of the house, as you walk through the gate, the front door swings open and Ashton rushes out, you can only manage to glace at him he looks a mess.

‘(Y/N) I didn’t think you were coming back’ he rushes towards you, you keep your eyes on Billy as you hand him to Ashton, he takes him rocking him a little, but you can feel his eyes on you, he goes to reach an arm to you but you shake your head. ‘I’m getting our stuff’ your voice is a whisper tired from the long night crying. ‘(Y/N) please don’t, please don’t do this’ he begs. But you ignore his please and rush up the stairs; you can hear Ashton and Anne talking down stairs. You grab a couple of bags from the spare room and head into Billy’s room, pulling out his things and neatly packing them. Tears are pouring down your cheeks, dropping on his things as you pack. You hear Ashton coming up the stairs and you heart beats faster.

‘Baby, baby please stop, talk to me for a minute’ his voice is raspy, and you know he is crying without even looking at him. He spins you to him, his hand holding the side of your face, his thumb wiping your tears, you can’t move from him, and just let a small sob leave you lips. ‘Please stop crying, baby I’m so sorry, I….I please just…please stay’ he begs, you shake your head.

‘Ashton I walked in on you with her, I don’t even know wh…I’m so fucking lost, we were meant to be forever, we have our son, fuck we have been planning another baby and yo….I can’t even look at you’ you cry biting your lip and taking a huge breathe in to try and calm you down, as you step back out of his hold. Tears are streaming from his pained red eyes as he shakes his head.

‘No, fuck no, I love you, I love you so and Billy mean the fucking world to me. I messed up..I dunno what I was doing..I haven’t stopped thinking of you all night..’ he is chocking over his words from the tears.

‘You should have been thinking of me before you brought her back to our home, into our room, our fucking bed Ashton’ you voice gets strong, surprising you and Ashton, he nods a little biting his lip as he rubs his forehead. ‘You, you have broken he Ashton, you have broken my heart, I..I am so in love with you, but I can’t even look at you, I hate you for doing this to me, to Billy…we aren’t kids anymore Ashton, you can’t talk me round….you broke up this family, our family’ you tell him, he’s frozen, doesn’t move a muscle, you can’t take being in this house any longer and zip the bag, you decide to get your things another time or ask Anne to pick you some up. You head for the door but he pushes it closed.

‘Don’t, don’t, stay with me please..please stay’ he’s begging, but you just shake your head biting your lip to stop the sobs. ‘You can see Billy every day until we figure thing out’ you try to reassure him but he shakes his head ‘No, no, I don’t want to figure things out, I want you, I want you and Billy, please don’t leave me (Y/N)’ he begs but you force the door open and run down the stairs ‘I’m done’ you tell Anne, she has tears in her eyes but smile following you out with Billy, you hold the door for her and she steps out ‘I’m so sorry Anne’ you whisper ‘Don’t be, come on let’s get you two back’ she kisses your forehead and you nod, feeling another tear slide down your cheek.

‘(Y/N), Billy’ Ashton shouts as he rushes down the stairs, your eyes lock for a second before you close the door behind between you. 

Part 2

From Chelsea

anonymous asked:

Can you please make a skimmons fic where Jemma is brainwashed and her mission is to kill Skye and it becomes, like, a face-to-face kind of thing where Skye says she understands and that she loves Jemma and Jemma's brain kind of wakes up from the brainwashing but her body is still in HYDRA's control so she shoots herself instead of Skye so that she can't hurt her? I just really love your writing so if you could make this happen, that would be amazing. THANK YOU!

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anonymous asked:

For the blind au, Carm plans like a romantic date or some grand gesture or something but has to plan it out for a while and laura thinks she's being distant bc she can't handle a relationship with a blind person.

At first you thought maybe it was a coincidence. But, when she blew you off for the third time…well, it’s three strikes and you’re out, right? She talks to you, but she hasn’t met with you. It’s always work or  class or already agreeing to meet another friend. 

Another friend? You know Carmilla. If it’s between meeting a friend and the opportunity to make out with you in your apartment, she would ditch them in two seconds. So something must be wrong. 

You don’t want to think about it–you’ve been fighting this battle with yourself for years, about exes and friends–but you can’t help the thought creeping into your mind. That maybe Carmilla is realizing this isn’t worth it. 

When she’s here, in your apartment, you feel fine. You know exactly where everything is. Here, you can almost pretend that you have perfect vision. Carmilla can pretend. 

 But outside of the apartment, she does a lot for you. Keeping her apartment super organized for you. Correcting wait staff that always asked Carmilla what you want. Having to plan all of the dates around whether or not you can participate. That meant no theatre, no movie theatres unless she can find one with headsets. 

You’re pretty independent; you live on your own, you make money, you go to school. But no amount of work, of headsets and map memorizing, and occasionally even a cane, can ever change the fact that you can’t actually see and Carmilla can. And what if she’s realizing she can’t handle helping you the rest of her life? 

“This is ridiculous,” you grumble, “I’ll just call her. I’m overreacting.” 

You pick up your iPhone; you’ve memorized the keypad and you punch in her number. 

“…Carmilla, speak.” 

“Carm! It’s Laura.” 

“Babe! Hey. What’s up?” 

“Um…hey, I was thinking, if you can’t meet me for lunch, can you hang out later tonight?” 

“I wish I could, but I’m busy–” 

“With what?” 

“…Whoa, cupcake, what is with the sudden venom?” 

“You’ve been ‘busy’ a lot lately, Carm. Come on. Why don’t you want to see me?” 

“There is no reason. I’ve been busy. Stop saying busy like you’re using airquotes.” 

“Carmilla, admit it. You’re tired of looking out for me.” 

There’s silences. “…Yeah, that’s enough of an answer for me,” you say–

“Laura, wait! Don’t hang up. Please.” 


“I promise, cupcake, that this has nothing to do with you. Well, it does. But it doesn’t.” 

“That helps!” 

“Come on, Laura, you know I’m crazy about you.” 

“Then act like it.” 

“Look…Laura, do I have to do stuff I haven’t had to do for my exes? Of course, you’re blind, it takes a little more work, but–” 

You hang up.


You don’t call Carmilla the next day. Thank God you don’t have work, because you’re a mess. You spend the day eating chips ahoy and crying. 

You feel the braille on the tactile watch on your wrist, realize it’s nine thirty, and get up from the couch to go to bed. 

Then you hear a noise. You can’t quite make it out. It’s coming from outside–


What the frilly hell?!” 

You walk toward the sliding glass door that leads to your balcony, open it, get on your knees, and your hand hits fabric. It feels like…

“A shoe?” This time, you hear the voice. 



Get to the edge of the balcony, babe, so I can see your face.” 

You reach your hand out, clutching the edge of the railing and leaning over. You can’t see her, but you want to be as close as possible. 

“This one is for you, Cupcake!” She says, her voice now amplified. A microphone. You hear her play a few chords and then start singing. 

I don’t know why I don’t see happiness in this town. 

Everyone I meet is so uptight wearing a frown. 

What good’s living where dreams come true if nobody smiles? 

Everyone’s chasing the latest star, the latest style–” 

And then the other instruments join in. Oh, God, she got an entire band? Now you wish, more than any other time in your life, that you could see. Because you can only imagine Carmilla looking at you, probably smiling, because she’s told you before that it’s a good thing you’re not deaf, because she loves music. 

You take me to another space in time.

You take me to a higher place so I—

I’m about to get out of the race.

I don’t mind.

You ought to know that everything’s nothing if I don’t have you…” 

You sing along with her as she keeps singing, clapping, cheering, generally making a fool of yourself, you’re sure. When it ends you’re laughing, and whoever is with Carmilla starts cheering. 

“…You have no idea how hard it was to find people to play, plus all the equipment, plus practicing, and getting the money for it on top of that all.” Carmilla says into the microphone, “If you’re wondering, the band is all dudes with a bunch of tattoos and questionable pasts. Only the best for you, babe. Sorry I had to blow you off to get it all together.” 

“Carmilla, why don’t you come up here and tell me?” 

“With pleasure!” 

You feel like you’re going to die from the anticipation. You hear the door open and you rush to it. It’s definitely her–she smells like woodsmoke and the perfume you told her you liked one time, and when you hug her, that familiar leather jacket. 

“…Carmilla, oh my God. We watched Begin Again the first time you came over to my apartment, I can’t believe you remembered I told you I loved that song.” 

“Believe it.” 

“And–not that I’m going to question it–but what is the occasion?” 

“You don’t know?” You feel her tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Two month anniversary.” 

“Who the Hell does all of this for a two month anniversary?” 

“The best girlfriend in the world, that is who.” 

You kiss her. “Ha, ha.” 

“…So, what did you get me?” 

“Oh my God, Carmilla, I thought you were planning on breaking up with me, why would I–” 

Kidding, Cupcake…” she sounds subdued. You cup her cheek. 

“What’s wrong? You suddenly sound…broody.” 

“Is that really what you thought I was doing? Planning on dumping you because I couldn’t handle this? Because,” she kisses your forehead, “As tactless as I was one the phone, what I meant was, that stuff doesn’t feel like work. I want to do it. It makes me feel good, that you trust me to help you.” 

“I–well, I’m just insecure. I should have never doubted you. That’s on me. Can I make it up to you?” 

Carmilla’s voice goes low and husky. “Can you…?” She purrs. You blush when you feel her fingers ghost up your arm. “Oh, I have all kinds of thoughts about that.” 

Note: The song was inspired by a chapter of MTME. Keep sending me these blind!Laura prompts, guys–I love this AU. I’ll do deaf!Carmilla too if you want. 

anonymous asked:

I can't speak directly for the person who made the "negative repercussions/crazy fans" comment, but given her past posts, I believe she was talking about those people who label the potential pairing sick and disgusting and even pedophilia. However you feel about a real-life pairing with such a big age gap, for a legal, consensual relationship that isn't portrayed as a quick hookup to be your "line in the sand" in the murderous, ethically challenged TWD universe does seem a bit odd, doesn't it?

Well, no.  

Let me first say, yes I think labelling a relationship between Beth and Daryl as paedophilia is wrong and dangerous, BUT I understand why some people use that words because it expresses their distaste for it. (And coming from the UK where the press likes to label everything as “paedo” this and that, I know the word has become synonymous with creepy and inappropriate, instead of its actual meaning)

And I disagree with the person who used the phrase about crazy fans, it was talking about the negative repercussions, and surely that must encompass ALL negative reactions? If it’s not, then she should say so, otherwise - as I said - it comes across extremely disrespectful to those who don’t like it for any reason.

But back to your final point, no I don’t think it’s odd that a consensual relationship between a just legal teen and a man in his 40s is some people’s line in the sand. Everyone has their own triggers, their own areas that they find they are more sensitive in. It’s been noted than far smarter people than me, that in TV land violence is far more easily accepted than sex and bad language. TWD is a prime example of that, we can see kids being shot in the head, people eating guts and blood flying hither and yon, yet they can’t say fuck? 

Sex and relationships is a much more sensitive subject for most than violence., I don’t agree with it, but it’s a fact. And so, it makes sense that an edgy, controversial romantic relationship would have more people on edge than a murder.

It is also important to note that a lot of the women objecting to this potential relationship are woman, and older women at that. Seeing a teenager in a romantic relationship with a much older man sparks a lot of triggers and memories and feelings in most women. Horrifically, most grown women have experienced some unwarranted and unwanted sexualisation in their teens. Most have memories of older men acting inappropriate or lasciviously with them at the age that Beth is now. It’s not pleasant and to see Daryl looking at such a young woman in what could be deemed as lustful, creeps a lot of us out, because as much as we know that’s a fictional world it still connects in our minds.

There was a quote going round about being protective of teenager girls because we were once them, and it’s so true. For many of us, it’s not about hating Beth, it’s about projecting ourselves onto her. 

And that makes us see Daryl in a bad light. For most of us Caryl shippers, we see Daryl as THE most honourable of men - as Caryl pointed out at the end of season 2. And to see him contemplating a romantic relationship with a girl he’s known since she was 16, a girl who has led a sheltered emotional life, makes us find him less honourable.

Especially when you think of how Carol admonished Axel for hitting on Beth, and he was seen as a creep WITHIN THE SHOW fore doing so. This shows that while it’s the ZA and ethics become grey, the characters are meant to be trying to hang on to SOME degree of social rules. Isn’t that what Dale and Hershel and Rick are all about? They don’t want this world to change them too much. 

The moral ambiguity has largely come down to survival. What do you HAVE to do to keep alive, to keep those you love safe. The moral ambiguity of romance - which is essentially a choice and an experience for pleasure not survival - has NEVER been dismissed on the show. Quite the opposite in fact. Lori was judged harshly for sleeping with Shane, even though she thought her husband was dead. Andrea was cast aside for finding comfort in the Governor’s bed. So, why would Daryl suddenly be the only exception to this sexual moral judgement air?

Essentially we want Daryl to be the hero, to do - as he has always done - the right thing, and thing least expected of someone who looks like him and comes from his background. Getting involved with an inexperienced, vulnerable young teen is not that, for many of us. It’s the thing someone thinking the worst of him would expect him to do - hook up with the young, pretty, light and bubbly blonde, instead of any of the challenging, strong women around him.

And that’s another reason this potential relationship sits so uneasily with many of us - the message it sends. To see the big hero, the man most female fans fantasize over and most men admire making the choice to go for the stereotypical youthful blonde sends a depressing message.

Someone (who? Please tell me and I’ll credit you) put it beautifully, that dismissing 3 years of building a relationship with Carol in favour of a fast bond with Beth, tells the viewers that if you are over 40 and grey haired, it doesn’t matter how much you put into a relationship with a man, he will ALWAYS chose the younger, blonder model. 

I’ve seen these very words come out of the mouth of some Bethyl fans - why on earth would Daryl chose old Carol, when he can have young, hot Beth? - and it is the most depressing thing. To see young women put so little stock in an older woman, to negate her attractiveness, and sexuality and believe that only youth and hotness can win a handsome, strong man’s heart and passion, makes me weep. 

I KNOW that it’s not the case for most men, but I want young women to know that too. I want them not to be afraid of growing old. To embrace their aging sexuality for the wonder it is. To not feel their worth as a woman goes out the door with their ovaries. I want them to look at Daryl and think, wow what a hot guy and look, he’s chosen the older woman because of WHO SHE IS, and that he finds her wrinkles and stretch marks and scars etchings of her wisdom and worth.

Instead, I see them saying Look at the hot guy, he needs a young, light woman, who makes him see things in a happy, light way and who can give him babies.

That’s not what I want for those characters, and it’s not what i want for the viewers.