and they keep ruining me for other men

Silver age fluff (or an attempt at it) for @pluckyredhead, set during the Mike Murdock debacle. 

Foggy wedges the phone under his chin as he fumbles a bottle of scotch. “Nel—oh fishsticks—son.”

“Bankrupt the firm yet?” an amused voice asks.

“Matty! Spot any flying saucers up there at Carter College?”

“I didn’t spot much of anything, Foggy,” Matt says wryly, “but the lecture went well.”

“Bring home any co-eds?” Foggy jokes, but it’s flat as soda left on the coffee table the morning after a shindig. He sighs. “Matt, I think I might hate your twin brother.”

Matt snorts. “But he’s the life of the party.”

“Not any party I want to go to,” Foggy grouses, hooking his finger under the telephone cradle and taking it with him while he paces. “He’s–he’s a clown. And a cad. I know he’s Daredevil, but–saints alive, Matt, it’s hard to believe he’s related to you.” He sighs again. “Aw, don’t listen to me, I’m just bellyaching. So when are you coming home?”

“Miss me already?” Smirking tone.

“Every day.” Foggy says without thinking, then blinks. “I mean.”

“You mean what?”

Foggy hesitates as he watches ice cubes swirl in the glass of scotch. He’s seen more of Mike Murdock than Matt in the last weeks, and he’s also been under the thickest, blackest, most jealous raincloud of his life. He’s not so much of a fool that he thinks the two have nothing to do with each other.

He thinks of the obnoxious tilt of Mike’s grin, a funhouse mirror reflection of Matt’s charming, genuine smile, and jumps in with both feet. “I mean. Yes. I do mean. Matt, I miss your face when you’re not here.”

“You can just look at my brother’s,” Matt said, dryly.

“Mike can take a long walk off a short pier and hug an octopus,” Foggy says, and Matt makes a sharp, surprised bark of laughter. “And you’re dreaming if you think I could get by without you in my life.”

“Fog…” Voice startled. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re an enormous heel sometimes, Matt. But you’re still the best man I know, and if I didn’t have you, I’d. My whole life would be.” He breaks off. “You’ve ruined me for all other men, Matt. Your brother included.”

Matt clears his throat six or seven times. “Have you been drinking?” Matt asks, airy as a falling anvil.

“I sure am holding a drink. I put some ice in it. I’m watching it melt.”

“Do you mean it? That you love me like you said?”

“Love? Who said anything about love?” Foggy says lightly, but he can’t keep his voice even, and he coughs. “Yeah. I mean it. I used to think that, you know, if it wasn’t going to be you and Karen, or you and some other amazing lady, it’d be you and me. Sometimes that meant two crotchety old bachelors having a drink at the end of a long day, sometimes it meant something else.”

“Something else like. When I come home, I come home to you.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Foggy says, trying to keep the wistfulness out of his voice.


Foggy knuckles his eye socket. “Yeah?”

“Look outside.”

Foggy stares at the receiver like he’d never seen a telephone before, then drops it and runs to the window, and standing at a payphone, in a circle of streetlamp light, his face tipped up towards the window of Foggy’s apartment, is Matt.


Give me a Harry and Eggsy who fight side by side, lethal and elegant in equal measure.
Give me a Harry and Eggsy who throw themselves at each other, riding a wave of blood and adrenalin, hurt and dirtied, but so so so alive.

Give me a Harry and Eggsy who keep coming back for this, bodies crashing into each other, driven as much by lust as a need for comfort. Because it’s fun, it’s easy, and it feels so right.

Give me a Harry and Eggsy that realize that this thing between them is no longer just about sex, but are both scared of ruining all this, so sure that the other doesn’t feel the same.
Give me a Harry and Eggsy who go to their best friends for advice, both frustrated and seeking a way for this thing to evolve, or at least a way to survive ending it, both men leaving their worried friends with no right answers, to meet each other and pretend that they don’t love one another as desperately as they do.

Give me a Harry and Eggsy who has finally had enough of the other’s apparent casual approach to what they share, and let’s it all crash and burn in an ugly war of words and glaring daggers.

Give me a Harry and Eggsy who are forced to reconsider all of this between them, because one decided to use a mission to escape and rushed in not entirely prepared, and the other had to rescue them. Now they’re both (mysteriously) stuck in the same room in the hospital wing, hurt and hooked up to IVs, too worn out to argue, but awake enough to finally just listen and talk.

Give me a Harry and Eggsy who no longer have to pretend they don’t need each other like air, who loves each other openly, proudly, fiercely.

What if I told you guys that even as a trans guy, I don’t wear my binder during sex? That I sometimes skipped binding on hot days because I overheat easily and could literally die. That I am okay being topless in front of my close friends. AND HO GET READY FOR THE BIG ONE. That I still cosplay female characters even after coming out.

Does that make you uncomfortable? I’m sorry, but that’s my life.

Saying that trans guy has to be dysphoric 24/7 in order to be considered valid is just as bad as when cis people say that you have to try and pass or you have to get top/bottom surgery. Both are equally unwarranted and disgusting. It also once again gives into the sexism against ftm who constantly have to prove themselves because god forbid they do anything slightly feminine (like let’s say, pose sexily in women’s clothing, binder or not) and are suddenly thrown under the bus for “not being real men”.

Wanna know what gives me dysphoria? When you guys call me lazy because I chose to skip binding on a hot day. When you guys think it’s weird and “kinda gross” that I still will put on the female cosplays. When you guys tell me maybe I would pass more if I didn’t have colored hair, wore makeup, or constantly showed off my curves.

You don’t get to dictate our lives or how we feel. As for my fellow trans men who do struggle with dysphoria and don’t like seeing these kinds of behaviors those like me, YOU can surround yourself with the things YOU need to get by, just as I and other trans guys will do. Unfollow, block, ask for content to be tagged, have a discussion instead of a screaming contest, IT REALLY ISN’T THAT HARD.

But sure, just keep ruining someone’s life by threatening their career, misgendering them and sending them death threats that’s cool

Oath | Ch.12 | Jungkook

Genre: Angst | Mafia!AU

Members: Jungkook | You/Reader | Yoongi | Taehyung | Namjoon | Hoseok | Jin | Jimin |

Summary: What if one day everything you ever wanted is taken away and your whole world comes crushing down? If you were to forget today, who would you be tomorrow?

Originally posted by kookieluvcookies

| Previous Chapter | Chapter List | Next Chapter |

Word count: 2172

Once you and Taehyung arrived back at home, Hoseok signaled you to come to Yoongi’s office. He wanted to have a talk with you in private. It has been three weeks since you became an official member, it was time for this discussion.

“Oh, Y/N, yeah. Come in.”

“Is there something wrong?” You were intimidated by him.

“No. That’s not why I called you. I actually wanted to tell you you did a great job on your first two missions. I was not expecting that to go so well.” He smiled.

Keep reading

Freedom (Chibs x OC)

@pocketfullofsadness this one is for you boo! Hope you love it!!!

Due to this request being so specific, I named the OC. I tried to write this from the Reader POV and it wasn’t working very well. Sorry guys! Her name is Saoirse (pronounced Ser-sha). The name means Freedom. I found it fitting.

Let me also preface this story with the fact that I know very little about the war that was happening in Ireland. I’m not trying to say one side was better than the other. All I’m making clear in this imagine is that Saoirse wasn’t ok with Chibs’ decision. 

Anything bold and italicized is from their past together.

Originally posted by filipchibstelford

Warnings: Violence & Language

Playlist: Beggars – Krewella x Diskord

I was sitting in the front seat of the car, both hands gripped onto the wheel. My knuckles turned white with the tension I was exuding onto the object under my fingers. My mouth was dry and my eyes were wide. I felt the sweat on my forehead begin to drip. If I wasn’t in a constant state of fear, I may have found this funny, only due to the fact that my body was at least ten degrees lower than the healthy mark. I probably had a mild case of hypothermia, if I was being honest. Hypothermia mixed with heat stroke. Was that even possible? My breathing hitched as I felt the metal silencer shove harder into my gut. I swallowed, nearly dry heaving from the stress. I had no idea why or how I’d been caught up in this mess, but here I was, a petite woman from Belfast, strapped into a hatchback vehicle, parked in the blazing sun of some podunk US town named Charming.


He flicked his cigarette away from his body, letting it bounce against the asphalt. They all noticed the car. It had been sitting in the same spot for an hour now. They didn’t know who or what was in the car so they erred on the side of caution. His eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses as he tried to zero in on who was in the front seat. He licked his teeth, a grimace on his face.

He slapped his VP on the shoulder, “I got this.”

They’d already had enough problems with Zobelle and his band of Aryan asshats. As a club they’d decided not to retaliate but if they’d sent someone to spy on them, there was nothing wrong with roughing them up a bit. He strode across the parking lot, stepping right up to the car. When he reached no more than five feet away a memory from his teen years, flashed before his eyes.


I sat down, unsure of how to process the news he’d just given me.

Saoirse.” He called out, kneeling in front of me.

Tears welled in my eyes, “How could you?” He jerked backwards from the accusation in my tone, “What happened to all the promises you made me, Filip?”

He shook his head, “I’m doing this for you, for us.”

I slapped him across the face, “Don’t you dare use our dreams to fuel your lies.”

He clenched his teeth, seething in anger. I saw the flash of abrupt change in his eyes. He wasn’t my Filip anymore. He’d been corrupted. The war alive within him.


“Did he see you?” The man wrapped under the thick blanket, demanded.

I gulped, and nodded. I prayed that the man on the floor of the backseat could see the nod. I hadn’t expected being thrown back into my late teen years by seeing the first man I ever loved. Scars stretched across his cheeks and a hardened look of a killer clear in his eyes. I wanted to cry, not for the danger I was in, but for the innocence lost. Neither of us would ever gain it back again. The war ruined a lot of people’s lives, ours included.

“Good.” The man saw my movement, “Drive away.”

I followed the order, swallowing my tears and revving the engine.


He froze on the spot unable to react as he heard the tires squeal out of control, the small Hyundai screeching down the street.

“Shite.” He swore as he stared at the empty street.


I was yanked out of the driver’s seat and dragged into a dingy motel room. The man tossed me down on the bed and I fought to keep the cry of terror internal. There were four other men in the room, all armed to the nines. I scurried across the bed, pulling my knees up to my chest. I was a grown woman, cowering in the corner of the room. How had this happened to me? Three days ago I were enjoying a drink at the bar with some friends.


He splashed another round of freezing cold water on his face, staring at his eyes in the mirror. Was his mind playing tricks on him? He was thrown from his distracted state by the sound of a knock. He whipped his head in the direction of the door to find Juice eyeing him with concern. He nodded, acknowledging the younger man’s presence.

“Irish want to meet.” Juice voiced.

“Alright.” He answered.


The man who kidnapped me made it clear that I needed to be showered and dressed within the hour. He picked out a skimpy sundress and informed me that I either wear that, or show up naked. I cried in the shower, knowing it was the only time I’d be able to show any true emotions. I shrugged into the dress, my skin cold to the touch. The only thoughts making this bearable were the thoughts that maybe Filip had recognized me. Maybe he’d be able to get me out of this mess.


I ended the engagement two weeks ago but that didn’t stop me from seeing him off. My eyes were wet with tears. I still wasn’t ready to lose the man I loved. I saw him in his uniform, playing the part of the perfect solider. If he’d been true in his enlistment, I’d have thought he looked dashing but I knew the truth. I knew exactly why he’d willingly been recruited. He spotted me in the crowd, and the anger around his eyes softened. I wiped my arm across my eyes and he gave me a subtle nod. The gesture made me burst into tears and the other young woman around me followed suit. All worried for the men in their lives. I saw the sorrow fill his face and noticed as he took a step forward. I screamed in agony at the pain in my heart. I spun around on my heel and disappeared, shoving my way through the crowd of mothers, daughters, wives and girlfriends. I wasn’t one of them anymore.


“Stay out here.” Clay ordered.

He nodded, stood beside the line of Harley’s. He knew why the order was made. He and Jimmy had too many issues between the two of them. Now that he knew both Fi and Kerrianne were safe in Belfast, he had no reason not to kill the scum on the spot. He stayed away, knowing that he couldn’t burn the bridge between the Irish and the Sons.

He pulled out a cigarette from the pack in his pocket but before he was able to light it, he saw that hair glinting in the sunlight. Hair he hadn’t seen in nearly thirty years. She was shuffling along the sidewalk a wild look in her eyes. A look he’d never actually seen on her before.


“Saoirse?” I heard his voice as he spotted me standing there.

My entire body shook from nerves and I gazed up in his eyes. He reached out, his hand landing on my forearm and the touch sent shivers coursing through my body. I blinked, tears blurring my vision.

“I’m scared.” I mumbled. He leaned in closer, trying to hear me. “They’re watching us. They have guns. What have you done? Filip, what’s going on?”

He took a step back, his eyes wide from hearing my voice again.


He had to back away, hearing her speak his name for the first time. He couldn’t help the reaction it sent through his body. If there was anything he ever regret in his life, it was the way things ended between the two of you. He’d let you down, and he knew that but he also didn’t think you’d up and leave him. He always figured you’d find your way back to each other. He never expected it to take this long and definitely not under these circumstances. Circumstances he didn’t fully understand yet.


It was the middle of the night. I raced along the empty streets, hoping that neither side of the revolution found me. All I wanted to do was make it home. I wasn’t supposed to stay so late at work, but there were people that needed the aid. Playing the neutral party during a civil war was arguably more dangerous than being on either side. I sped around the alleyway corner, dashing under the streetlamps. A firm grip wrapped around my upper arm and I yelped. Another hand reached around and clamped down on my mouth. I panicked and began bucking against my perpetrator.

“Hush.” The thick Scottish brogue whispered into my ear.

I could recognize that voice from anywhere, “Filip?”

The hands dropped from around me and spun me to face him. He pushed me under the streetlight and I could see the longing in his expression.

“Saoirse.” He whispered.

Our reunion was short, hearing the footsteps of his mates coming from the other end of the alley. He shoved me away from him.

“Run.” His voice frantic, “Run Saoirse. Run and don’t look back.”

I stumbled over my pea coat, dropping down onto my knees. His hand gripped my bicep and yanked me back up. His lips crashed down onto mine and I weaved my fingers into his hair. Our tongues met in a brief battle, fighting for the upper hand. He pulled away and I spun on my heel. I took off down the street, praying every prayer I’d ever learned in my short life. IRA. True IRA. He’d done exactly what I hoped he wouldn’t do. The only way he’d have been accepted into the True IRA was to kill someone on the other side. He’d completed his initiation. I wept as I ran. My Filip ceased to exist.


“Who brought you here?” He questioned.

She wrung her hands together, her eyes darting all around. He could tell they were being watched. She hadn’t needed to tell him before. There was no way she’d accidently find him. There was no way they were ever to find their way back to one another. It was never written in the cards for them.

“Who brought you here?” His voice stern.

She startled, backing away from him. He immediately regretted his force. She wasn’t at fault. She’d been kidnapped. He reached out and she jerked away.

“Tell me.” He coaxed.

She stuttered, “Uhm – I think he said his name was… Jimmy… O – “

“O’Phelan.” He finished her sentence, “God dammit, Saoirse! I told you to run and never look back.”


In a brief moment of rage I lifted my hand and struck him across the face. His head whipped to the side, his hair coming undone and messing around his face.

“How dare you?” I hissed, my voice quivering from the terror and rage melding together. “I was the one who tried to protect you from this. I see your scars. I see your pain. I see your lost virtue. Always one for the god dammed cause.”

Seemingly from nowhere a dozen men rushed the scene between the two of us. Two men grabbed my upper arms and tugged me away from Filip. Filip was held back by another three men and I kicked, realizing they were taking me away again. I’d played my part. My purpose was finished. The dread sunk in and I regretted my actions.

“FILIP!” I screamed, as the men yanked me away. My body thrashed from side to side as I tried to break free of their hold.


“SAOIRSE!” He screamed, elbowing the men holding him back. He managed to break free and sprinted towards the van they were shoving her into her. He could hear her pleas. She was begging for her life. His vision blurred into red. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was supposed to have been saved. He made sure of that when he let her go that night twenty-five years ago. He reached the van too late as it skid out of the parking lot and onto the open road.

A hand landed on his shoulder and the lilted accent spoke, “I see you’ve met my new pet…”

He grabbed the hand and whipped it around, dropping Jimmy down onto the ground and shoving his knee hard into the crook of his spine.

“CHIBS!” He heard Jackson holler, “STOP!”

Jimmy grunted, “Hear that Filip? Your boys and I made a deal. Looks like the girl has no more use for me.”

He hauled his fist back, smashing it into Jimmy’s face. Jackson and Opie caught him before he could pound the slimy shit into the ground. They hauled him back up while he attempted to break away. Jimmy stood back up

“Fiona wasn’t good enough for you?” He spat in Jimmy’s face, “You had to go and drag up my past. A woman who’s done nothing wrong?”

Jimmy tapped him on the cheek, “I think you’re forgetting your own history. If I remember correctly, you let her get away once. Knowing full well that she was working for the opposition.”

He blanched. He was never actually sure that she was working for the other side. All he knew was that she helped people with food and shelter.


I was locked in the bathroom of the motel room. There wasn’t anywhere to escape too. I could hear the men outside of the door conversing. It was in a language I didn’t know. It sounded harsh and angry. My first guess was Russian but I really had no idea. I curled up into the bathtub, my arms wrapped around my knees. Exactly twenty-seven years. That’s how long it had been since I gave Filip his ring back. Exactly twenty-five years since he let me go that night in the alley. Was this how I was going to die? Still in love with a man I hadn’t seen from or heard from in that long. Someone who probably moved on long ago. Someone who probably had a family and children. Even in his deplorable situation there had to have been a woman who loved him enough to stand by him when he was at his worst.


Stalh and Jimmy had been dealt with, their bodies disposed of and never to be seen or heard from again. All the boys loaded back into the school bus. He took the wheel when Piney stared at him.

“We have one more stop.” He said.

They nodded and let him drive. He sped down the freeway. Juice had tracked her down. He knew exactly where the Russians had been keeping her.


I heard the crash from the other side of the door. There were shouts that were soon drowned out by the sound of gunfire. I screeched terrified that my end was finally coming. I cowered into the bottom of the tub, trying to shrink into a ball of nothingness.


They smashed down the door and fired at will, not a care in the world. He’d already assessed the main room and knew she wasn’t in there. He pushed the bathroom door open and yanked back the shower curtain. She was curled into the fetal position and screamed out in terror when he laid a hand on her arm.

“Saoirse.” He murmured, bowing down next to the porcelain basin, “It’s Filip. I’m here. It’s ok.”

Her breathing hitched and she fought to breathe normally but turned her head to him.

He nodded, “I’ve got you.” He reached out and cradled her into his arms. 

He lifted her out of the tub and she wrapped her arms around his neck, burrowing in close to him. He rubbed his hand along her arm in a soothing motion.

“I won’t let you go.” He murmured, “Not this time. I’ve got you. It’s just me and you. I love you.”

He pressed a chaste kiss to the top of her head and felt as she sighed into his neck, “I love you too.”

My friend and I used to keep a running list of the best/most romantic-hero-sounding men’s names, and we debated for ages whether to include Richard. 

Because, on the one hand, Richard Armitage.  *swoon forever*

But on the other hand, Richard from Keeping Up Appearances - once you’ve seen 50 episodes of that on late night PBS and heard “RICHARD!!!” in a screechy fake-posh voice 400 times, it kind of ruins it for you.

Originally posted by perennialgarden

I think eventually the list kind of fizzled out before we could make up our minds.

Garrett Inquisition Banters - Dorian
  • Dorian: The Champion of Kirkwall, is it? A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance
  • Garrett: I wouldn't have thought anyone who could have had a seat in the Magesterium would much care to know about the south
  • Dorian: You know of the Magesterium? Truly? Most in the South think ever mage in Tevinter is a Magister
  • Garrett: Don't take it as a compliment. My husband was a slave to one of your magisters
  • ---
  • Dorian: So you married a slave?
  • Garrett: /Former/ slave. He belongs to no one
  • Dorian: Ooh, touchy
  • ---
  • Dorian: Have I offended you?
  • Garrett: What makes you think I'm offended?
  • Dorian: Well in Varric's book he writes you as an understanding paragon of goodness, and yet whenever I'm within ten feet you start scowling
  • Garrett: I... didn't realise. I apologise
  • Dorian: Oh no need. In fact, it makes you one of the friendliest southerners I've met so far!
  • ---
  • Dorian: So-
  • Garrett: Not now
  • Dorian: I haven't even said anything
  • Garrett: I'm not up for talking at the moment. Please, just not now
  • Varric: Leave him alone, Sparkler. Everyone has their days
  • ---
  • Garrett: So you actually read Varric's books then?
  • Dorian: Not all of them. I tried reading that romance, Swords and Shields, per Cassandra's recommendation. I felt my IQ drop after the first sentence
  • Garrett: The Seeker recommended it? Varric will have a field day with that
  • Dorian: Well would you look at that? A smile! I feel blessed
  • Garrett: *sighs* And now you've ruined it
  • ---
  • Dorian: So... you're interested in men, are you?
  • Garrett: And married
  • Dorian: Well I noticed /that/. You and Fenris can barely keep your hands off of each other. I was just wondering...
  • Garrett: What?
  • Dorian: Never mind. Let's go back to you scowling at me whenever I walked into the room, that was much more comfortable
  • ---
  • (After Dorian's personal quest)
  • Garrett: The other day, when you brought up my preference for men, were you going to ask about my father when he found out?
  • Dorian: Ah, I've been had, have I?
  • Garrett: It would seem so. Do you still want to know?
  • Dorian: So long as it doesn't end with 'and then he decided to try a blood ritual to make me acceptable'
  • Garrett: Nothing like that. I was about seventeen when I realised, nineteen when I finally told him. It wasn't easy. I was terrified actually
  • Dorian: You were scared he wouldn't approve. I understand. What did he do, when you told him?
  • Garrett: He and my mother sat there and they listened. And when it was done, they just hugged me, told me they loved me, and that was it
  • Dorian: I see. You were lucky to have parents so ready to accept you as you were
  • Garrett: I was. And maybe you might be too, if your father's serious about making amends
  • Dorian: Maybe. I'd like to think he is
  • ---
  • Dorian: So your brother is a Grey Warden?
  • Garrett: He is. My fault, I'm afraid
  • Dorian: How so? I take it you didn't make him do it on a dare?
  • Garrett: I let him have his way. I let him go on that damned Deep Roads Expedition because he'd have thrown a fit over it otherwise
  • Dorian: He caught the Blight, I take it?
  • Garrett: Yes. And if not for Anders knowing where to find Grey Wardens, he would have died
  • Dorian: That hardly makes it your fault. Sounds more like rotten luck to me
  • Garrett: If I'd just made him stay at home-
  • Dorian: He'd have thrown a fit and done something equally stupid to spite you, I'm sure
  • Carver: I'm standing right here you know
  • Dorian: Oh I'm well aware
  • ---
  • Dorian: You know I always thought that Varric made that up
  • Garrett: *groans* Dare I even ask...
  • Dorian: You'd really never kissed anyone before Fenris? And he was your first time too? My, how romantic
  • Garrett: I am going to kill Varric...
  • Dorian: And here I thought we were past the 'you scowling at my mere presence' stage
  • ---
  • Garrett: So, you and Farier?
  • Dorian: Ah, you are curious? Well, I do love talking about me, so there's no harm in indulging you
  • Garrett: *chuckles* How on earth does he put up with you?
  • Farier: Well see, he does this thing with his tongue where he-
  • Dorian: Amatus!
  • Farier: *smugly* What? You use your tongue to talk, don't you?
  • Dorian: Oh, you little-!
  • Garrett: *laughs*
  • ---
  • Dorian: So... open to a friendly wager, Garrett?
  • Garrett: Hardly. The last time I wagered anything, it involved Isabela winning my clothes at cards and me running home with a bucket to cover my privates
  • Dorian: *laughs* Quite the image! Now that's a story I have to hear
  • Varric: I'll tell you all about it back at camp, Sparkler
  • Marian: You can see it first hand if you get him drunk enough
  • Dorian: And now I have my next endeavour all planned out
  • Garrett: Maker, no. Just no
  • ---
  • Garrett: So, out of curiosity, what did you want to wager on?
  • Dorian: Interested are we?
  • Garrett: Hardly, just curious as to what you were going to propose
  • Dorian: Well it's not fun if we don't wager. Varric put in for ten royals already on the odds of three-to-one
  • Garrett: In favour of what?
  • Dorian: I'm only telling those who are betting
  • ---
  • Garrett: Fine, just tell me what we're betting on
  • Dorian: Aha! Knew your curiosity would win out. We're betting on our dear Inquisitor's chances for success
  • Garrett: You're... betting on whether or not she'll die? That's rather morbid
  • Dorian: Not dying per say, though I suppose that will be the outcome if Corypheus isn't stopped. So, your wager?
  • Garrett: Not my trousers, that's for damn sure
  • Dorian: *laughs* Blast, and to think I could have owned the trousers of the Champion of Kirkwall!
  • Sera: I could pants him for you!
  • Garrett: Don't even think about it
  • Sera: *cackles* Too late!
  • Garrett: She's joking... Right?
  • Dorian: My dear Garrett, I'd watch myself from now on if I were you
  • ---
  • Dorian: So I sated your curiosity on our bet, now sate mine. Why /were/ you always scowling at me?
  • Garrett: I didn't even realise I was doing it before you pointed it out
  • Dorian: Nonsense, there must have been a reason. I /did/ hear you duelled Danarius and had a part in his death
  • Garrett: True. And I still have the scars to prove it
  • Dorian: So is it because I was nearly a magister? I take it that it's not because I'm from Tevinter, considering your choice in marital partner
  • Garrett: I... I don't know
  • Dorian: Ah, perhaps you feared I would harm Fenris in some way? I imagine he paints quite a picture of the Imperium
  • Garrett: Just... stop. I don't want to talk about this anymore
  • Dorian: Very well. Shall we talk about me instead? I do love that topic
  • ---
  • Dorian: Are they always that loud?
  • Garrett: Try sleeping next door to them. I think they do it on purpose
  • Dorian: Have you ever tried-?
  • Garrett: Yes, and it doesn't work. Trust me
  • Dorian: You must have gotten back at them somehow. I doubt Fenris would let it go
  • Garrett: *smugly* Well we did book them for the Bad Girl Special at the Blooming Rose once
  • Dorian: What-?
  • Marian: I still hate you for that
  • Garrett: I know. And it was worth it
  • ---
  • Dorian: You... really remember nothing?
  • Garrett: Not really. Only what I've been told since waking up
  • Dorian: Hm. When the Nightmare stole Lyris' memories, it only took her memories of the Conclave... Perhaps it was your extended contact with the demon that did it
  • Garrett: Do you think it will come back?
  • Dorian: I don't know. But if there is a chance, I am happy to help however I can
  • Garrett: Thank you Dorian
  • Dorian: Hmph, of course it took a memory wipe for you to say that to me
  • ---
  • Dorian: Lothering?
  • Garrett: Darkspawn
  • Dorian: Cheery. Kirkwall?
  • Garrett: Home
  • Dorian: Fenris?
  • Garrett: Husband
  • Dorian: Are you saying that because you know it, or because you feel it?
  • Garrett: ...both
  • Dorian: Hm... Ah. Dorian?
  • Garrett: *smugly* Scowling
  • Dorian: Aha, you /are/ starting to remember properly now, aren't you?
  • ---
  • Garrett: Thank you Dorian
  • Dorian: Well, I won't be one to refuse thanks but I usually like to know what I'm being thanked for
  • Garrett: For helping me remember. I was a bit of an arse to you in the beginning, wasn't I?
  • Dorian: Well you didn't spit when we met. It's more than I can say for the blacksmith
  • Garrett: *sighs* And there goes the moment...
  • ---
  • Garrett: So, Dorian...
  • Dorian: Ah, are we back to scowling now I am to be a true Magister? Don't worry, I won't hold it against you. I've even been practicing my maniacal laugh
  • Garrett: I just wanted to offer my sympathies for your father's death. I know how hard it is to lose a parent
  • Dorian: *sympathetically* Or two, in your case. I appreciate the sentiment, though I'd rather not speak at length about it
  • Garrett: Of course. Have you at least had your grapes peeled for you since being back in Tevinter?
  • Dorian: *laughs* No, but it is at the top of my list when I take my seat in the Magesterium. Along with trying to drag the Imperium back out of the muck, though that's a slightly more long term goal I'm afraid
  • Garrett: I'd heard a few rumours about that. You really think you can do it?
  • Dorian: Maybe, maybe not. But if I don't try, who will?
  • Garrett: True enough. If you ever need anything...
  • Dorian: Oh perish the thought. I believe you've been through enough, my friend. Only fate would be unkind enough to saddle you with yet more trouble after all of this
THE GRISHA TRILOGY sentence meme
  • “The problem with wanting is that it makes us weak.”
  • “The less you say, the more weight your words will carry.”
  • “The moment our lips met, I knew with pure and piercing certainty that I would have waited for him forever.”
  • “Thanks for finding me.”
  • “I’ve been waiting for you a long time, _____ “
  • "You and I are going to change the world.”
  • “I’m sorry it took me so long to see you, _____.  But I see you now.”
  • "You belonged with me.”
  • “Why won’t you leave me alone?”
  • “Then I’d be alone, too.”
  • “Did you tell him what I showed you in the dark?”
  • “You’re under his protection.”
  • “I will strip away all that you know, all that you love, until you have no shelter but mine.“
  • “You might make me a better man.”
  • “And you might make me a monster.”  
  • “I’ve seen what you truly are and I’ve never turned away.”
  • “You’re shaking.“
  • "I’m not used to people trying to kill me.”
  • “Maybe love was superstition, a prayer we said to keep the truth of loneliness at bay.”
  • “And there’s nothing wrong with being a lizard either. Unless you were born to be a hawk.”
  • “Princes bleed just like other men.”
  • “Na razrusha'ya. E'ya razrushost.” I am not ruined. I am ruination.
  • “What is infinite?  The universe and the greed of men.”
  • “Do you blame me for every mistake I made? For every girl I tumbled? For every dumb thing I’ve said? Because if we start running tallies on stupid, you know who’s going to come out ahead.”
  • “That sounds like a brilliant plan.”
  • “People, particularly big men carrying big rifles, don’t expect lip from a scrawny thing like me. They always look a bit dazed when they get it.”
  • “Too much champagne?”
Connection Enhances Money

The more i speak to these men, the more i realize how much i want a connection with a POT/SD; and the more imperative it is for me to have that with someone i’m exchanging time, energy and money other words, my future “arrangement” needs to be more than just simple ass sex. i see nothing wrong with sex work, nothing at all! shit, i even thought about escorting for a minute–still thinking about it lmaoooo its way less tedious than this SB shit lma) .. but i just feel like a middle road for me is to have a leveled in-between type of fake-relationship instead of it just being, “okay you will spend the night here once a month and other days leave at 10pm” .. no. i can’t do that. 

And the more i realize that, i notice there are a lot of SBs in the bowl who are settling. This is NO SHADE at anyone at all. Its just a slight observation. These men want sex, yes. & they want it from us, yes. but there is nothing wrong with making sure we at least click with the man. It makes the sex/intimacy part (our end of it) so much more enjoyable. someone reading this may be saying, “duh, bitch you should like the man.” but its actually not that simple at all!

now the reason i say some SBs settle & i say its not that simple is because the hustle & struggle is real. i see it with my own eyes. even i have bounced around with the idea of just going along with things because the smell of paper is prudent. & its not much help to the real SB’s out there, showing their fruits of labor that make us want to do what we gotta do to get the same thing. don’t let those other sugar blogs make you bend backwards for no man because you want to post up a money stack, please!!!!

then i see the way some—no, A LOT—of these men talk to us; how objectified we are, and i realize these types of relationships are 100x better if we make sure we LIKE our SD. not just tolerate him. and make sure they actually respect us as women, our time and our struggles. these gross men bring out my petty side & i realize why should i share myself with this man who is making this sound like a job, no matter how much he doesn’t want to feel like a fucking ATM. which is a big ass contradiction to men who write on their profile oh i want it to feel like a relationship but turn around & create time slots of things to happen & don’t want to take the same time frame of a relationship.

i’m seeing the true essence of a SD/SB relationship: the honesty of the relationship comes together on pretenses that helping each other is what keeps it strong and enjoyable. besides, if you meet a decent man and actually really really vibe with him, the chances of you getting more than you bargained for, are HIGHER.

there are some gross ass men swimming through trying to run one over us and trying to get a quick nut. and its really unfortunate that the decent & good potential SDs are being screwed over by women who just want a quick cash getaway. which absolutely makes no sense to me because why would you ruin your chances of constant cash flow by up & leaving him???

anyway, this is my slight rant for the week. i pray to the Sugar Gawds that i meet a really decent & generous man who respects me for who i am. a man i can enjoy my time with instead of counting the minutes for it to be over. i hope ya’ll “aspiring” SBs are figuring out if you will cross that road, and hoping and praying for the same thing.

Stay Luscious. Stay Sweet Ya’ll.

kickingroses  asked:

Hey Steph. :) Something has always bothered me about the train car scene. When John thinks they're about to die and says he forgives Sherlock - why didn't he hug him? I feel like if you were alone with the love of your life and you believed it was the end, you would want to be holding them in your final moments. Right? It makes me worry that if certain death isn't enough to bring out a true love confession, what will be?

Hi Lovely!

I…. I don’t know. Because these are two men who are so terrified to lose each other that fear if they touch each other they will ruin everything. My poor darlings, I think With John it was fear that Sherlock would run away again, and with Sherlock it was that he thought John would never forgive him, so he was keeping his distance to protect his own feelings and to respect John’s decision.

They are terrible with their feelings, and when they finally learn to talk to each others, I think we’re going to get the most beautiful thing ever captured on film.

The Little Religion

We called it the Little Religion because they were only four members: Gina, the baker’s wife; homeless Owen; Pally, the chestnut farmer; and my brother Curt.

They held services in the town square at noon each day. They were quiet with their worship. The four of them would sit in a circle on the grass, talking in whispers and holding hands. It became a common sight to see them there. Other than that they spent their time doing ordinary things. Gina would help her husband in the bakery. Owen would wander the town looking for odd jobs. Pally would be on his farm. Just typical, regular things. Curt was the only one who seemed to disappear for long stretches of time.

The only other odd part of the Little Religion was that they never slept inside. Whether it was warm or pouring rain all four of them could be found sleeping under the stars.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

16 mormor pls omg xx

16. things you said with no space between us

To be fair, Sebastian notices that the men they’re doing a weapons trade with are taking out their guns, and pulls Jim out of the way before either of them get a bullet through their skulls. But, Jim has never been fair when it comes to dirt getting smeared onto his Westwood, and it’s inevitable after Sebastian has to yank him to the ground behind some cover to avoid the hail of bullets. 

“Why don’t you ever fucking know when to shut up?” Sebastian snaps irritably over the gunfire. 

“I was being perfectly pleasant,” Jim retorts. 

“You told the one in charge that his second-in-command is fucking his sister.”

“But he is. And you should be thanking me for not shooting you for ruining my suit.” 

“How rude of me to save your fucking life.” 

“Watch your tone, Seba-” 

Blood spatters the back of Jim’s suit as Sebastian shoots a man that was coming at him from behind in the head. Jim is even more appalled at this, and the blond grabs him roughly and hauls him deeper into the shipyard they used for the meeting. 

The other men chase after them, and Sebastian continues to drag Jim after him quickly, weaving and turning at random through and around the shipping crates. After keeping this up for a few minutes, Sebastian tugs Jim into a narrow gap between two crates, covered in shadows. He guides him deeper into the gap, until they are out of sight, chest-to-chest, pressed completely against each other. 

Sebastian looks out the gap and watches as the men run past their hiding spot. Their footsteps slowly fade away and he exhales. Jim hums lightly and Sebastian looks at down at him. 


“You smell like mint,” he says, looking up from where his face is level with Sebastian’s collarbone. “Much better than smelling like your damn cigarettes.” 

“I thought you liked me smelling like smoke.”

“Gunpowder smoke, darling.” 

“You’re so goddamn picky.” 

“You should be flattered by it, Bastian.”


“Because I picked you.” 

He looks down at Jim for a long moment, his lips nearly brushing against his forehead, they’re so close. They remain, feeling the other’s heartbeat against their own, breathing in the other’s air softly, warm despite the cold night, in their little hiding place where words offer up as much warmth as body heat. Then Sebastian kisses Jim deeply, and the kiss is returned with as much enthusiasm as initially offered.

Jim grins once he feels Sebastian’s body wake up and press against his hip. 

“Don’t think there’s enough room here, tiger.”

“Saw an empty crate on our way here,” Sebastian says against his skin, as he moves his mouth down to Jim’s jawline and neck. 

“As long as we’re using your jacket to lie on, darling,” Jim breathes, tilting his head back as much as he can and exhaling softly. 


want one?


Bruh stop sending these to me. I get it, I got it, I’m doing it.

I’m not gonna waste any time, let’s take a trip down prejudice memory lane of the times when these tweets were proven to be real. 

In this screencap you can see someone responded. Said response actually still exists, unlike Iggy’s backbone (the user has changed their name but this is it) here: 

In this instagram comment, Iggy addresses the tweet about playing soccer with “dyke bitches.” Why would she bother trying to explain her use of the slur if she never actually said it? The mystery continues on

Then there was the “Me chief you Indian I speak you listen, tweet which I don’t even know how she can dispute since it was her youtube bio back when she was making web cam freestyles and she says a similar lyric in her XXL Freshman Freestyle. Bonus Macklemore in the background of this video looking like somebody’s sad uncle. Bad bitch Nancy Drew is getting closer to solving this case.

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Asian lady "stealing” her seat on a plane saga. She had an entire conversation about it, including using her asian family members as an excuse.

this is from the day the exchange happened

i screencapped the conversation again a couple months ago so I could show you guys what the person she was talking to said. I am Sherlock Holmesing the fuck outta this right now

Then finally there’s this black men popeyes mess which was just found a couple months ago and not by me this time. I made the post the day someone sent it to me/it was found and subsequently caused a twitter dragging, March 5th, 2014. It’s been capped multiple ways, the first is by me and others capped it on their own timelines when people were retweeting it. Also included a tweet of someone quoting it on the same day it was posted to this blog. Just put me on the next season of True Detective because my skill set is unmatched.

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@IGGYAZALEA: Just saw 5 black men get arrested out the front of popeyes. #damn #stereotypes” 👀😒

— ayesha (@doncasterchapel)

March 6, 2014

If you would like to keep living in a world where I am a photoshop demon overlord who is ruining a racist woman’s career via tumblr posts, by all means, keep thriving in it. Or yell at me repeatedly in my inbox for “wasting my time” as you waste time typing that message you know I won’t respond to. There’s a reason nothing on this blog is illegal; cause it all came from her. I may add (hilarious) commentary but the things posted came from her public twitter, videos and interviews. Real talk, her racist antics which include her on video calling herself a slave master, have not damaged her career in anyway so I’m unsure of why she’s “upset.” Crymeariver.mp3. I will say she is absolutely correct about that fake facebook post of her supposedly saying nigga. That’s not real and I did not partake in that fuckery. 

What did we learn today kids? Own up to your shit and apologize or else the internet will remind you every damn day of the times you didn’t. She can have a very un-blessed life for these lies. 

But the rest of you stay blessed bye* 

*Except for the person in my inbox who said I should make a hate blog about President Barack Obama cause he probably says “nigga” with his friends. You can drink expired milk for that one.

Have you ever felt personally victimized by Sebastian Stan?
Have you ever cried over his radiant beauty?
Have you ever felt so sexually fustrated by him that you wouldn’t even wish it upon your worst enemy?

Well friend, this is the right place for you.
Here at The Sebby Stan Support Group™, we understand what you’re going through, and we care enough to go through it with you. And it has become apparent over tonights events, that y’all need it.

Does his face personally insult your very being?
We’ll be there.
Does his thighs threaten your love for another man/woman?
We’ll be there
Does his dorky personality make you want to eat a pint of Ben and Jerrys Karamel Sutra Icecream, curl up in front of your laptop and listen to Celine Dion’s greatest hits?
Hell, we’ll bring the wine.

Because here at The Sebby Stan Support Group™, we know what it’s like to go down a dangerous road such as this.
Our members are dedicated every day to provide for you the best of gossip therapy we can provide. Whether you need to cry, fangirl or scream profanities, we will be there with you every step of the way.
That’s the Sebby Stan Promise.™

But May, How do I apply?!
I’m glad you asked that my Sebby loving friend. To apply to become a member all you have to do is reblog or like this post and either comment or tag about how the Sebby Stan Support Group™ could benefit you. For example:
I need the Sebby Stan support group because Sebastian stan is the devil incarnate and something needs to be done about this man.

Once that is done please come to my ask and send me either the link to the Icon you want or tell me that you want to keep your own and i’ll make it for you. The icons are 30x30.
We also have space for a small description as a hover, this can only be about a sentence in length. Ex: Sebastian stan has ruined me for other men and i need help. Thats all I need, but if I don’t have it i can’t add ya!

You can also delete everything but the picture if you so wish :)

Ok, so do i need to follow you?
Hell nah. But here at Sebby Stan™ it’s our job to support one another and sometimes mutual follows with your members can help build a loving, supporting connection.

I don’t make gifs or graphics.. is that ok?
Of course, buddy! We know that you already have your day full of staring at Seb’s face. How could one possibly find time to make graphics between all that?

If you are wanting to apply for the Sebby Stan™, please be couragous enough to speak with the other members, they are there to help you and in turn, for you to help them. We like to create good strong friendships here, and that can’t be done by keeping quiet.

Be a nice Stanner
You will be going to people with your problems and they will be coming to you, you need to spread all the love these Sebby Stans can get, and I don’t think I need to say it, but if you’re being rude to another Stanner in need, how can you expect the support group to support you?

Keep your ask open.
Because if people can’t communicate with you how the dang diddly darn are we gonna gossip about Sebby, come on man.

Be open to making friends!
Guess what, people like being friends with other people, especially if it means they don’t actually have to be physically sociable. And here at Sebby Stan, we like to bring in the love. :)

So become a Sebby Stan member TODAY :D



I don’t think they meant for this all to spin so out of control bc I think they truly do love the fans despite their cruel words and they want to help but they don’t think before they speak bc they’re still young and don’t realize that everything they say will be twisted against them and used to write a story or broadcast how shitty they are. Like yeah, maybe Luke has fucked two girls at once, thank you for sharing, you’re in the time out chair and next week you don’t share, plus no mid morning snack for you. It wasn’t a good idea to do that, and it’s definitely disturbing that he felt that it was ok to act all cocky about admitting he did something like that without outwardly saying ‘yeah I fucked two bitches in my Gucci flip flops’ and I mean, he probably was absolutely flustered to have been asked something like that and maybe he bullshitted thinking it wouldn’t be printed and maybe it’s absolutely true, either way he shouldn’t have talked about it and he’s going to regret it for the rest of his band career if not life. The article made them sound like alcoholics, and calum worse since he put bourbon in his Coke (newsflash bitches bourbon is some strong shit like my father who has been drinking since he was 18 and is definitely not a lightweight can only go for a few rock glasses of bourbon and that’s not during a hangover). The whole article pulled out every bad thing it could from this band and amplified it times twenty. A short remark made about Luke fucking two girls, brushed off quickly bc he’s young and has stamina. Michael discussing watching porn, who the fuck cares?? I watch porn too, I love boobs man, they’re fucking great ok there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. Boys are like that, they like porn, and from a young age too. It’s not the end of the world if a magazine prints that Michael turned safe search off. Calum smoking cigs and drinking at 1am, holy shit it’s 5 o'clock somewhere and he’s not planning on driving probably so who the fuck cares. He’s getting girls numbers, so what?! He’s not calling every single one of them for booty. And holy shit, so what if he is?? He’s young and he’s gorgeous and his dick isn’t disappointing, so let him get laid if that’s what he wants. And Ashton isn’t a bad person, like maybe he curses more but that comes with stress and growing up and other things, who cares, he’s not harming anyone and it doesn’t mean he’s suddenly Satan.

Like yes, the whole interview is a shamble of bullshit that points out every blemish this band has but it’s real and it’s them and holy shit they’re stupid assholes and you know what a lot of people are but that isn’t a reason to give up on them to shit. I’m not even though I’m thoroughly disgusted by a majority of the interview bc I’m here for their music that is a constant reminder that my parents fighting isn’t something I face alone and that others experience it, and sometimes you give out love and it slaps you in the face and you don’t know how to keep moving. And I’m here for their good looks bc that is a key factor into me enjoying this band, I like pretty men and all four happen to check off on that list.

Nevertheless, yes, they hurt people with this, degraded themselves and the women/people brought up in the interview, put the fam to shame bc we stand up for their problematic behavior and definitely ruined Christmas/the day after. But I’m here til the end bc at the end of the day, they’re the boys that gave so many people a reason to keep moving on and to stay strong and no matter what they do, I will support the message they spread and the music they make.