can we please make this an actual thing

but can we talk about alec telling magnus how his father proposed to his mother??? like, what else did he tell him?? do they just sit on magnus’ balcony and talk about stuff like that in between their make out sessions??? does alec talk about his family all the time because they are the most important thing to him and does magnus talk about all the famous people he met over the centuries and tell their dirty little secrets to make alec laugh??? like, i’d pay actual money just to see a scene, just one (1) scene like this!!!!! please!!!!!

Lads here I know this is completely unrelated to the blog but this is a plea because I’ve noticed a lot of people asking about it in work.

PLEASE DON’T USE THOSE BLACK CHARCOAL FACE MASKS. The peely-off ones all over Facebook. Please.

Charcoal is not bad for your face (unless you’re sensitive maybe). The problem comes about when you have charcoal and peel-off in the same room, especially when the ingredients to make the peel off mask aren’t clearly stated (or a bit cryptic). From what I’m seeing there are even DIY black charcoal masks which include glue as an ingredient. nO
The masks are unreasonably harsh on the skin, and while your skin might feel great and smooth for a while after using them, it’s seriously damaging your skin’s natural moisture barrier and it’s probably pulling out a lot of the very fine hair on your face. That’s not a good thing. 

While the results and after photos of the peeled mask look impressive, most of what comes off on those “miracle masks” aren’t blackheads, but sebaceous filaments which are completely natural and healthy. You don’t need to pull them out. Everyone has them. There’s nothing wrong with them. They’re actually responsible for controlling the release of oil onto your skin. 

We’ve had people as young as 13 coming in to work asking if we make them. I’ve seen videos of adults crying trying to take them off, imagine how much they’re going to affect considerably younger, possibly sensitive skin?

Please, this isn’t even a plug for my work like honestly I’d rather if you got a fist of muck from the garden and put it on your face than use the black masks.

Things in Dirk Gently season 1 We Don’t Talk About Enough
  • when Farah and Dirk show the machine to who they think is Agent Weedle, and Dirk realizes (but sadly can’t warn Farah) that it’s actually one of the Men of the Machine, his face literally is like *lightbulb goes on*
  • when the Rowdy 3 arrive at the parking lot where Amanda has her pararibulitis attack, first thing they do is go after the asshats who were filming her. that was the moment I decided I liked them beyond “they are loud and fun and a bit scary”
  • Dirk Gently is the most agonizingly positive dude ever, and then Riggins approaches him like “you need to listen to me” and Dirk puts on this shit-eating grin and says “Why, do you have new lies to tell me” like duude, where does all this bile come from all of a sudden
  • speaking of which, any moment where it’s noticable that Dirk is a lot more fed up with everything than he likes to admit (from his situation in general to things like “people where dying while you were busy becoming a billionaire”)
  • that one time he speaks his mind and he gets punched in the face for it and he can’t even complain because the future version of Spring already apologized for that, time travel is a bitch
  • how amazing is the musical score??
  • when Riggins straight up headbuttet Friedkin. that was probably the best thing he’s ever done ever
  • Zimmerfield was such a good cop? He just wanted to find the missing girl? He didn’t even want to hear about her being possibly dead, his last words literally were “Save Lydia Spring” Zimmerfield didn’t deserve this. 
  • Estevez didn’t deserve this.
  • just how enthusiastic Amanda and Dirk are about each other
  • how everyone is enthusiastic about Farah
  • like when she starts wondering where the military bullet came from, and Dirk just looks at her like “wow she’s gooood”
  • everything Farah does is amazing
  • how Ken walks that very thin path of “bart no” and “BART YES” all by himself
  • “cinnamon”

A DARKER SHADE OF MAGIC / A GATHERING OF SHADOWS by v. e. schwab sentence meme.

  • ❛  I’d rather die on an adventure than live standing still.  ❜
  • ❛  After all, you can kill people, but you cannot kill magic. Not truly.  ❜
  • ❛  Impossible. What a useless word, in a world with magic.  ❜
  • ❛  Everyone thinks I have a death wish, you know? But I don’t want to die – dying is easy. No, I want to live, but getting close to death is the only way to feel alive. And once you do, it makes you realize that everything you were actually doing before wasn’t actually living. It was just making do. Call me crazy, but I think we do the best living when the stakes are high.  ❜
  • ❛  You have two faces. One you wear for the world at large, and the one you wear for those you love.  ❜
  • ❛  Everyone’s immortal until they’re not.  ❜
  • ❛  It is as it is. It cannot be undone. So please, be grateful, and be done with it.  ❜
  • ❛  The thing about freedom? It doesn’t come naturally. Almost no one has it handed to them. I’m free because I fought for it.  ❜
  • ❛  I know you can do this. I know you can hear me. Stay with me. Listen to my voice.  ❜
  • ❛  Maybe you just got a taste of what it really means to be alive. You almost died. So now you know what it feels like to live. To fear for that life. To fight for it. And once you know, well, there’s no going back.  ❜
  • ❛  You made a mistake. Everybody makes them. Even me. I’ve made many. It’s only fair that you made one.  ❜
  • ❛  I did only what I had to do. If I could have given my life for yours, I would have.  ❜
  • ❛  A kiss for luck. Not that I need it.  ❜
  • ❛  I know. I know what and who you are. What will you do? Kill me?  ❜
  • ❛  Why am I the only one in this fucking world to be held accountable for my actions?  ❜
  • ❛  Aren’t you afraid of dying?  ❜
  • ❛  I’m sorry. For whatever happened to you. For whoever hurt you so deeply that you see things like friends and fondness as weapons instead of shields.  ❜
  • ❛  You know so little of war. Battles may be fought from the outside in, but wars are won from the inside out.  ❜
  • ❛  Between the two of us, we’ll tear the whole world down.  ❜
  • ❛  I am going to cut that smile off your face.  ❜
  • ❛  It hurts. More than dying ever did. There are days when I feel like I deserve this.  ❜
  • ❛  Death doesn’t scare me. Not nearly as much as the idea of wasting a perfectly good life in fear of it.  ❜
  • ❛ You’re always so eager to slash and stab, why couldn’t you have stabbed him.  ❜
  • ❛  Which is it, huh? You’re angry at me, or worried about me, or happy to see me? Because I can’t keep up.  ❜
  • ❛  Wouldn’t it be amazing, if we got away with it?  ❜

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taylorslistofexlovers  asked:

There is a kevineil drOUGHT right now can you please make it rain (heh see what I did there) fluffy headcanons thank

I’m sorry its legitimately been like… 2 months since you sent this but HERE WE ARE, kevineil + fluff!! (throwing some under a cut bc it got away from me a bit)

  • an exy movie comes out, “the blind side” style. neil and kevin are so excited about it they actually skip night practice to go to the midnight release.
  • they even get sodas. kevin day drinks soda. this is how serious they are
  • the whole thing is emotional and dramatic and neil loves the shit out of it. he probably tears up at some point which is wild bc he doesn’t cry (except during sex, whoops)
  • kevin just complains out loud the whole time about how unrealistic it is
  • “he made that shot from past half court with NO OPENING! it was impossible. did you even see the angle?”
  • afterward, the two of them are so fired up that they end up going to the court at like 3am
  • kevin spends an hour trying to make the ‘impossible shot’ (he eventually does)
  • neil: “you said it was impossible” kevin: “well, no one else would be able to do it”
  • ok, moving on

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were-what-killed-the-dinosaurs  asked:

that driving/walking to school when its freezing prompt w evan/connor! evan's the driver and connor is super stubborn and refuses to get in the car but evan finally bribes him to. when connor gets in, evan starts driving and he's literally the slowest, most careful driver ever and connors like jfc dude stop driving 25 in a 30. at least fucking go 40! (bc connor drives like double the speed limit at all times). feel free to pick and choose what you want from this idea!

Full prompt: “I drive to school and you walk and I drive past you everyday and it’s below freezing and you’re still walking please just get in the damn car I’ll drive you” AU

Hmmm should we call this fic “the time that evan drives just like em”? Nah haha

Thank you so much for this prompt!! im assuming that you read the tags on the prompt au, which makes me really happy cause wow!!! someone actually read that stuff!!! thank you!!! i hope you enjoy!! And!! Im posting another version of this with connor driving and you can read it here !!

And i changed the prompt slightly, they are going home from school :)))))))))))

(side note i have a thing for connor cursing all of the time like every thought has a curse in it and im so sorry for this)


It was fucking cold. Connor pulled his hoodie around himself tighter. It wasn’t providing much warmth. Walking the two miles home from school was usually a treacherous walk, but in the dead of winter it felt nearly impossible. It wasn’t snowing at the moment, but there was still grey slush that was currently seeping into Connor’s shoes. Fuck. It was cold. Connor could practically imagine Zoe driving in her car, warm and having fun. Fuck her. No, not really, but Connor would hold this grudge for hopefully the rest of his life.

Zoe deemed it more necessary to drive her girlfriend around and make out with her in some parking lot than to drive her own brother home. In the snow. Family was real important in the Murphy family.

A car that was way too close to the curb drove by, making even more slush spray all over Connor. How fucking perfect.

In short, this has not been a good day.

A car honked next to him, startling Connor out of his thoughts. A old Mazda sedan, the ugliest shade of green he had ever seen was pulling over. Connor gripped the sleeves of his hoodie tighter. Is this some rapist coming to kill me? Is this it?

The window rolled down, revealing the driver. Connor let out a sigh of relief- he wasn’t going to get raped and killed. It was Evan Hansen.

Evan leaned across his seat.

“You need a ride?” That was a dumb question. Here Connor was, soaked with slush, and freezing his ass off, and Evan comes and asks him if he needs a ride?

“Hell no.” Evan frowned, obviously not expecting that answer. Connor almost laughed at the comical look on Evan’s face.

“Why not? You look miserable out there.” Evan finally said, his voice sounding uncertain.

“That is very true, my friend.” Connor was angry at the world, and he was taking it out on Evan. The boy didn’t seem to have realized this yet.

“So-” Evan made the word much longer than it needed to be. “Why don’t you just get into the car? It’s much warmer in here.”

“Cause I don’t want too. Plus, you probably have crap music in there.” Connor did in fact want to get into the car, but he was stubborn. Part of him wanted Evan to force him into the car, because then Evan would have to get out of the car, and Evan had a cute butt.

So what? Connor thought that Evan was cute. Really cute.

Evan squinted his eyes at the taller boy, and it was then that Connor realized that he was inching closer and closer to the car, and he was standing right outside of the door at this point.

“What type of music do you like?” Connor had lost track of the conversation when he was thinking about Evan’s butt.

“What?” He responded stupidly.

“What type of music do you like? I might have some CD or something in here.” Evan leaned across the center console and opened up the compartment in front of the passenger seat. Connor wasn’t that surprised when nothing fell out- everything about the car was neat and tidy. Evan pulled out a CD carrier and held it out. “If you see something you like in there, get in the car.” Connor thought about it for a few moments. Evan’s arm shook from holding the heavy case with one hand. After a few painful seconds, Connor took the case.

Connor flipped through it, surprised by what he found. Alanis Morissette, Weezer, Nirvana, pretty much a bunch of 90s rock music. Exactly what he didn’t expect from Evan. Connor located one of his favorite Green Day albums and got in the car.  Evan smiled at Connor while Connor put his seatbelt on, and grabbed the CD carrier back.

“Who did you choose?”

“Green Day. Dookie.”

Evan silently put in the CD and started the car up again. They sat in silence while Evan pulled out of the side of the road. It took approximately ten seconds for Connor to get annoyed again.

“You drive like a old man.” He commented. Evan quickly looked at Connor, but then back at the road.

“What do you mean?”

“Evan, the speed limit is 30. You are going 15. Please, for the love of god, go faster.” Connor said, starting to bop his head to the music.

“How fast would you go in a situation like this?”

“Probably 45.” Connor responded confidently, enjoying the look of shock on Evan’s face.

“That is triple what I am going!” Evan cried out, slowing down even more. Thank god no one was behind them.

“You are right, my grandfather drives faster than you.” Evan glared at him.

“I am giving you a ride, but I am not afraid to shove you to the curve again.”

“That wouldn’t be necessary, Evan.” Connor said, grinning. “This is my house.” Evan stopped suddenly, jerking the car. Connor unbuckled his seat belt, leaned across the center console, and gave Evan a kiss on the cheek. “See you tomorrow at the end of school! Keep the CD in there!”

Connor jumped out of the car, laughing to himself as he saw Evan blush and fluster. As he walked towards his house, he heard Evan start to drive away at what seemed to be the slowest speed possible. Connor turned around and waved one last time before going into his house.

anonymous asked:

In room for ruby, in the scene where Lapis was upset, we saw that Peridot moved towards her but she didn't hug her, this means that Lapis doesn't allow Peridot to touch her, too much at least, and she respects that because she cares about her, and which better way to show it than respect? But at the same time it's sad that Lapis doesn't even want to be hugged by her, it's hurtful when someone you love refuses contact with you, poor Peridot.

The thing is, we don’t actually know that Lapis isn’t allowing Peridot to touch her.  I mean, that could well be the case, but I’m not so sure.

I can see what you’re saying, and it does make a lot of sense, but please allow me to put a different spin on this for a second…

Peridot is ultra protective of Lapis and has a very acute awareness of Lapis’ feelings at all times - so in Beta she tells Amethyst to stop talking about Jasper, and she repeatedly checks that Lapis is OK before she leaves; then in Back To The Moon she grabs ahold of Lapis’ arm as soon as Amethyst mentions them becoming “prisoners”; etc.

Peridot might not want to full-on hug Lapis in Room For Ruby in case it makes her more upset - there have been implications (on Peridot’s Twitter, for one) that Peridot has comforted Lapis on at least one occasion in the past.  It’s entirely possible that Peridot’s learned that Lapis likes her space when she’s upset, because she’s been upset in front of Peridot before.  Some people prefer to temporarily close themselves off from others rather than having any sort of comforting physical contact when they’re upset, and Lapis might well be one of those people.  It might even be Peridot’s assumption that Lapis is like this, judging from how she behaves when upset, rather than Lapis having outright stated that she doesn’t want a hug; and because of how protective Peridot is of Lapis, she doesn’t want to take the chance just in case it makes things worse.

I mean, she seems absolutely fine with Peridot’s physical contact in other scenarios…

Originally posted by okaycasey

…as she doesn’t even react here…

Originally posted by anfurnee

…and when they’re arguing in The New Crystal Gems, Lapis seems perfectly content to basically let Peridot climb all over her.

It seems like Lapis is used to physical contact with Peridot - and so it’s entirely possible that they’ve shared a hug or two off-screen before now :)
to count the stars

seven times james and lily meet on the train, and one time they don’t

ie, this is me skewing the jily week day 1 prompts a bit because i am the trashiest of trash.



It’s a bleak September morning the first time she sets foot on the Hogwarts Express.

Lily sniffles, glancing over her shoulder, not at her parents whose grins were so wide that she feared it would split their faces, but at her sister, her Tuney, who pouted and frowned and whose eyes had a strange sheen over it. She’s only seen it a few times, when they got into fights that lead to broken dolls or hair tugging.

Petunia Evans was a cold type of sadness. She would pout and sulk and her lip would quiver, but she would never, ever cry.

Lily was the opposite. She was an explosion of feeling, a forest fire too big for her body that left its confines in wet, noisy sobs that had the whole house shaking.

A lone tear made it’s way down her sister’s cheek and she was ready to jump off the train and back to her if it meant stopping the impossible.

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Things that make a ship abusive:

  • Put downs
  • Physical violence
  • Sexual abuse
  • Forcing the partner to stay with them
  • Making the partner feel like they’re not good enough
  • Trying to control the partner’s life
  • Blackmail 
  • Bullying. 

Things that DON’T make a ship abusive:

  • Both parties being the legal age of consent but one being significantly older than the other (can still be problematic, but it’s not abusive.) 
  • Someone saying something they shouldn’t have one time on accident and  sincerely apologizing for it afterwards (may be a legitimate cause to end the relationship, but does not qualify as abuse.) 
  • Arguing.
  • Honesty. 
  • You not liking it. 
  • The relationship in question being anything less than perfect. 

Can we please as a website end this trend where we call ships we don’t like abusive when they actually aren’t? It’s insulting to people who have actually been in or currently are in abusive relationships. 

pale-silver-comb  asked:

♥ "Don't go", Sterek.

For you, my dear, I had planned to write some bottom Derek smut, but all my ideas for this had feelings all over them. So I wrote them all instead of picking one. I hope you enjoy it!

Four times Stiles and Derek say “Don’t go,” and two times they are exactly where they want to be (for @pale-silver-comb)

Derek’s voice is sleep roughened but edged with a practiced concerned awareness, gained from too many late night emergency phone calls, “Stiles? What’s wro-”

“Derek!” Sites interrupts with his usual exuberance, tinged with the softened slur of unaccustomed drunkenness, and Derek relaxes marginally as Stiles continues. “How are you man? I haven’ seen you in like- wha’ time izzit?” Stiles whips his phone away from his ear to check the time, but he’s too intoxicated to fight his own momentum and ends up twirling after the arc of his arm, stumbling. He barely manages to catch himself before he falls to the ground, but Derek is on his feet and getting dressed as soon as he hears the muttered “Oh, shit.”

Before he can yell for the human, he hears an honest to god giggle through the tiny speaker, and he relaxes ever so slightly. He can hear the indistinct baseline of something irritating and popular distantly playing in the background, the sound of the wind a low whistle through the phone line, and Stiles, laughing.

“Stiles, where are you?” Derek is grabbing his keys and toeing on shoes as he prepares to collect the human before he can get into trouble. Beacon Hills is relatively safe, if you don’t count the supernatural threats, but a good looking and clearly intoxicated seventeen year old shouldn’t be out wanting the streets at one thirty in the morning.

“I wuzzat a party with Scott. But he left with this girl, an’ he said I shouldn’ stay long, but he was ‘sposed to be my ride, and Der’k, I’m drunk,” he finishes seriously. “I’m drunk, an’ I can’t call my dad, and you’re like, my bes’ friend, an’ your car is awesome, an’ i-“

Derek is caught off guard by the sincerity in Stiles’ voice, but he focuses on the rising panic and cuts him off with a gentle, “Hey, just tell me where you are, I’ll be right there.”

Stiles slurs through his location, and Derek is relieved to hear it’s only a few minutes away. He keeps Stiles talking as he speeds to close the distance faster, and the wave of pure relief that washes over him at the sight of Stiles slumped against a lamppost is like an electric shock.

Stiles pours himself into the passenger seat with more grace than he usually possesses and flashes Derek a grateful smile. He’s more tired and regretful drunk than boisterous drunk now, and he lets his head rest heavily against the seat as Derek drives at a much slower speed toward the Stilinski house.

“Thank you for coming to get me, Der,” Stiles’ voice is clearer, but small sounding, his words not quite their usual crispness. “I’m glad it’s you, because I don’t have to worry about not saying how burning hot Derek is, or how I want him to push me up against a wall and kiss me, because you’re not him, and, oh fuck! You’re you!” he says accusingly, as if Derek had forgotten who he was talking to, and not the other way around.

Derek can feel the hot blush color his ears and flash down his neck at the image Stiles paints with his accidental confession.

“Stiles,” he begins, gently, but Stiles doesn’t let him finish.

“Derek, can we please blame the alcohol and forget that pretty much this whole night happened?”

Derek considers it. Stiles is clearly embarrassed, his scent gone sour and his heartbeat unsteady. It would be easy to ignore it, he’s had plenty of practice ignoring his feelings. But if Stiles wants him, and he doesn’t have to pretend he doesn’t want him back- why should he? “What if I don’t want to?”

Stiles gasps, and it sends a shiver down Derek’s spine. “You- what?”

“We’ll talk when you’re-recovered. Alright?”

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles doesn’t sound convinced

After a brief internal argument, Derek reaches over and takes hold of Stiles’ hand and gives a reassuring squeeze. He’s immeasurably gratified when Stiles sighs happily and the tension melts out of him, his scent spiking sharply with contentment, fingers wriggling slightly to settle between Derek’s. Derek can hardly suppress the echoing sigh from his own chest.

Stiles careens back to drunken rambling quick enough to make Derek’s head spin, but since Stiles is now using their clasped hands to gesture as he speaks, he lets a fond smile curl his lips as a steady stream of mostly nonsense tumbles from Stiles’ lips.

As they reach the Stilinski house, Stiles speech has slowed and gone heavy with sleep, Derek tries and fails to not find it endearing, especially in combination with the lazy drag of Stiles’ thumb along the back of his hand. Derek opens the passenger door to assist Stiles in exiting the car, both of them making small surprised sounds when Stiles stumbles and crashes into Derek’s chest. Derek steps back reluctantly, draping Stiles’ arm over his shoulders and holding his waist. Stiles leans heavily against him, murmurs things like “You’re so strong,” and “All that scruff and you’re so soft under the grrr,” as he draws a finger along Derek’s jaw and stares through barely opened eyes gone hazy with sleep and liquor.

Derek manages to get Stiles upstairs and into his bedroom, settles him on the bed and kneels to remove his shoes. Stiles groans above him and something that sounds an awful lot like “Not fair you’re on your knees and I’m too wasted…” and Derek can feel the rush of blood through his entire body as he catches the meaning. By the time Derek is done with Stiles’ shoes, Stiles is flailing above him, half trapped in the sleeves of his shirt. Derek is torn between watching him struggle and helping him, but the strained, frustrated sound Stiles makes pushes him to help. He very pointedly does not look when the overshirt catches his t-shirt, lifting it to reveal a tantalizing strip of creamy pale skin and a hint of hair leading into the waistband of Stiles’ jeans.

As Stiles falls back into the bed, Derek helps to guide him onto the pillow, wrestles the covers from under him and tucks them gently around the sprawling form of Stiles’ body. He can’t help but smooth Stiles’ hair away from his forehead, the gesture hopelessly fond, and Derek is fairly certain he’s never done it so easily before.

Derek turns to leave the room, return to his own bed to try to sleep, knowing the clock will mock him and that all he’ll be able to do is hear Stiles’ drunken declarations on repeat in his head. As he makes to step away from the bed, his feet gone heavy and uncooperative with reluctance, he feels the brush of clumsy fingers at his wrist, wrapping around it in a loose grasp and sending a pleasant tingle through Derek’s arm, settling warmly in his belly.

Stiles’ voice is sleep soft, but steady, the words cutting through Derek painfully, “Don’t go. Please? I don’t want to be alone, I’m always- please. Don’t go.”

In the face of Stiles’ plea, Derek finds himself not only powerless, but having absolutely zero desire to turn back toward the door. The relieved whimper that Stiles releases as Derek drops gently onto the edge of the bed and turns his hand so their palms meet, threading their fingers back together, is like a punch and an embrace all at once.

They wake in the morning wrapped around each other, and it’s shockingly easy to smile at each other as they untangle their twined limbs.


When Derek is visiting Cora, his phone rings, and he smiles at the ridiculous picture Stiles set as his profile. “Hey, you,” he answers fondly, voice going soft and light like it always did now that he and Stiles were DerekandStiles. It quickly bleeds into panic tinged concern at the hitch in Stiles’ breath; the realization that Stiles has been fighting tears, has a reason to be, is a painful weight in Derek’s chest. “What’s wrong, Stiles. What is it?” His urgency is a palpable thing, an uncomfortable sizzle under his skin.

Stiles releases a shuddering breath, “God, I will never not appreciate how the sound of your voice makes everything feel better.” Derek’s worry is ameliorated slightly by the knowledge that he’s a comfort for the hyperactive human he calls his mate.

“I’m glad to hear that, babe, but what’s going on?”

“You’re going to hate it,” Stiles is hesitant, his voice is tinged with uncertainty, and Derek wishes he were there to wrap his arms around Stiles, to hold him and reassure. He makes an affirmative, encouraging sound, “Try me,” he says with more enthusiasm than he feels.

“So, there’s this… thing. Some kind of monster. We haven’t figured it out yet…” Stiles goes on, details a truly horrible plan, one that relies heavily on Scott’s frankly laughable leadership and Stiles as some kind of glorified bait. It’s a shit plan, and Derek does in fact hate it. Hates it so much he’s growling, actually, and it takes Stiles’ pleading “Der, please,” to break him out of it, to wash the red tinge from his vision.

All Derek can do is choke out a pained “Don’t go!” He knows it’s desperate and can’t bring himself to care, “Stiles, please. Please don’t go. This plan is fucking terrible. You know it is. I will get on a plane, I will be there tomorrow morning, just wait. Don’t go, any of you, but you can’t. Please?” He’s begging, and will continue to beg until Stiles agrees, “I can’t lose you. Don’t go. Remember, the night we started this? You asked me the same thing, please, Stiles.”

“Ok, Der, ok, ok. I won’t go. Please, don’t cry. I won’t go.”

Derek takes a deep breath, it catches in his chest, but he pushes past it, “Thank you. Thank you thank you, thank god.”

Derek is on a plane two hours later. Twelve hours after that, Stiles is in his arms; unruly hair sweet smelling and tickling his nose, wide, smiling lips pressed into his own.


When Derek needs to leave Beacon Hills, Stiles understands, he really, truly does. But it also feels like he’s being slowly pulled apart.

They stand quietly in Derek’s loft, silently embracing, Stiles still in his dressy graduation clothes, intermittent tears running down both their faces, until Stiles grips the front of Derek’s shirt tightly, hauls him impossibly close to devour his mouth in a desperate kiss. Their teeth clack, and their tongues swirl together in practiced rhythm, lips dragging slick and wet together. A great, sob of a moan tears out of Stiles’ throat and he buries his face in Derek’s neck.

“I can’t ask you, I know I can’t, but I want to, Der. I want to ask you to stay with me. I want to beg you. To scream ‘Don’t go!’ But I won’t. You deserve to go, to be ha- to find happiness, even if-”

Derek feels his heart breaking; hurting Stiles is killing him. He can’t bear the ache in Stiles’ voice, the sorrow laced through his scent. “Come with me,” rushes past his lips with force and sincerity, and he can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before.

Stiles looks at him, hopeful but unsure, so he kisses the confusion off his face, cradles his jaw with careful hands. “I mean it, Stiles. It’s summer, you don’t start school for months. Come with me. Please?”

The smile that breaks over Stiles’ face is bright and honest, it’s everything Derek loves about the boy.

“Yeah. Ok, yeah, let’s go,” Stiles replies eagerly, peppering Derek’s face with kisses, hands restlessly petting as thigh assuring himself Derek is still there.

Derek laughs lightly, “I thought maybe we’d have a last go in a real bed, before it’s all motel rooms and truck stops for a while. And you know, pack, first.”

Stiles makes a considering sound, “Both good things. I’m especially interested in the first part,” he grins as he grabs Derek’s hands, walking backwards toward the bed.


Two and a half incredible months later, they’re laying naked in a motel bed, tangled together and still catching their breath, trailing gentle fingertips over one another’s faces, cataloging details. Preparing for time apart.

Stiles’ half packed suitcase sits on a luggage stand across the room, taunting them with the short time they have left measured out in clean and dirty socks.

Derek traces the curve of Stiles’ mouth, their eyes searching, but unwilling to leave the others gaze for more than a second or two. “You know-” the words are stuck in his throat, heavy on his tongue, he clears them away with a hard swallow, “I want to ask you. I guess it’s my turn to know better, huh?” He laughs without a traces of humor, and Stiles kisses his furrowed brow, smooths it with a long finger.

“You’re not ready to not be moving, and Berkley is pretty stationary, babe,” Stiles answers easily, his voice tinged with regret. “I understand,”he says, quieter than the rest, but without a stutter in his heartbeat, and Derek would know it’s true even without the added senses. Because Stiles understands Derek probably better than Derek does, and the loss of his constant presence is already aching dully in his chest.

“I’m going to have to say it. Just once. It’s practically tradition, now,” Derek attempts to joke, but the truth is it feels like the words are tearing at his throat.

Stiles kisses him, long and slow, as if to cool the burn of the things he can’t say. It almost works. They part reluctantly, hands and lips both clinging together, and it breaks out of him with a sob, “Don’t go.”

Stiles gathers him close, let’s Derek bury his face in his chest, strokes his back in soothing circles and holds his neck. “I have to,” he says simply, pressing kisses to Derek’s head. “But I promise I’ll always come back to you, wherever you are, until you’re ready.”

When they wake some time later, Stiles has to leave. Derek drives him to the bus station, because Stiles wouldn’t let him set a foot in California until he was ready to. Derek isn’t sure he will be, but he wishes he was now so he could steal those last miles with him.


They wake to cool morning light filtered through the curtains, and the muted sound of a cell phone ringing in the other room.

It’s been six months since they last got to wake up together, and it feels indulgent and surreal all at once. Video chats and constant phone calls and texts are an ok way to bridge the distance, but there is nothing so wonderful as waking up like this. Sleep warm skin and muscled limbs tangled together, warm breath on the back of his neck. Stiles is afraid it’s a dream.

Derek wakes, runs his nose along Stiles neck and places a long, hot kiss there. “Morning,” he says sleepily, arms tightening briefly before he shifts in the bed. Stiles panics, grabs Derek’s forearms in suddenly shaking hands, “Don-.”

Before he can finish, Derek is wrapping himself around him again, “Not going anywhere, babe. You’re not either.”

Stiles takes a deep breath, calms his heartbeat. “Sounds perfect, because I have plans for us that don’t involve leaving this bed unless it’s to hydrate or pee.”

Derek laughs into Stiles’ shoulder, the sound rich and deep, the rumble in his chest echoes through Stiles’ chest pleasantly. “I like the sound of that.”


A small cry pierces the predawn quiet, and Stiles and Derek startle awake at the same time. They blink tiredly at one another for a moment, taking time to acclimate and assess.

Stiles smiles at Derek, notices the slight greying of his still artful stubble, the lines starting to show around his eyes that he knows are from laughter instead of worry.

Derek smiles back, taking in the defined jawline, and the more beard than stubble that his husband has favored these last few years.

They say in unison “I’ll go,” and then laugh, kiss. Let it linger just a moment until the baby reminds them why they’re awake so early. Stiles places a quick kiss on Derek’s cheek, runs his thumb over his jaw briefly.

“You got her down last time, it’s my turn. Go back t’ sleep.” Derek makes a sound that Stiles takes as agreement, and he heads to the nursery across the hall, scooping up the small, unhappy bundle from the crib and settling her against his chest.

When Derek stumbles in moments later, Stiles is in the rocking chair, cradling their daughter and dozing slightly. Derek crosses the distance with a few long strides and moves to take the baby from her current Daddy shaped pillow and back to her own bed, intending to do the same with Stiles after, when he feels familiar fingertips against his wrist.

He looks down to where Stiles is holding him, turns his palm so their fingers thread together with the ease of years of practice. They smile at one another for long moments, until the sun starts to rise and add a warm glow to the soft lilac walls.

anonymous asked:

If you're explaining people in love can you please explain ENTP WE ARE LITERALLY CRAZY I DONT GET ME!! And enfj would help too because I don't understand my boyfriend!

How ENTPs Act When In Love With You

  • Get kinda squeaky-voiced when around you and refuse to make prolonged eye contact
  • Actually flippin terrified of love, like they hate it
  • When falling in love will do things like just lay on the floor groaning because they know they’re f*cked
  • Get really defensive of you and will get so salty when they hear anything negative about you
  • Once they can’t deny the feeling anymore, they accept it and kinda enjoy it before getting low key obsessive
    • This obsessiveness will often go unnoticed by the other person…what you don’t know is they’re up at 2 am on your uncle’s Facebook looking at pictures of you when you were 5 and going “aww”
    • Yes it’s creepy but they don’t do this for anyone they don’t really like
    • They may never admit this so you probably won’t find out
  • Slowly start looking into your eyes more, probably still quickly look away…they’re straight up flustered when around you
  • They make little efforts to make physical contact with you, like grabbing your hand or running our fingers through your hair, just to get the “thrill” of being so close to you
  • They ask you a bazillion questions about your favorite things and they point out when you look good or have said something smart
  • Remember the details about you and get you little gifts to reflect that
  • They send you memes at 5 am because…well, they love you

And I’m going to do these posts separately, so sit tight for the ENFJ one! Imma call out to my ENFJ followers for help on that master list, though, I admit–I don’t understand ENFJs at all. They’re the 1 type that I just kinda ???? what??

Honestly can we please just stop with this stigma that people with psychosis are dangerous killers

Because i mean like half of my hallucinations are weird yes, but things that would make me want to kill and or hurt someone? No, i havent had any that would make me want to kill anyone. A lot of my hallucinations are actually kinda funny, like my wall in the shower will get eyes and a mouth and start talking to me, or like the moose hanging on my biology teachers wall is telling me that i should get more sleep, or just now i saw a frog just chillin on my wall next to me. I often ignore half of them because they are so ridiculous and weird that i just wait for it to be over. Yes sometimes i do get bad ones, but its usually stuff like i hear a kid crying for help and so i try and find them until i realize they dont exist, or my school fire alarm going off until i remember that im in my house. I dont have too many psychotic episodes that make me violent, so like maybe get rid of that stigma cause its not cool and really harmful.

Disclaimer: i am not at all in any way trying to insult or demean people with psychotic episodes that make them violent
Basically a Femlock AU in a short film

Our film, Moxie, there is. It’s inspired by BBC Sherlock as well as the TJLC community. I even wrote in a very dramatic realization-that-you-were-in-love-the-whole-time scene that is all meta and involves tea. Yeah. This film is tea coded. I’m super serious about this film and I was hoping this lovely community could help me make it a reality :)
So if you could help me spread the word or even donate to the campaign, I’d be so grateful!
@moxieshortfilm this is the blog dedicated to the project. Behind the scenes stuff gets posted there ;)

And here:
Is our kickstarter. I’m on mobile rn so I can’t do the fancy embedded thing :)

But yeah, if you want to see a 25 minute bamf wlw film about justice, good humor, and comeuppance, made by a group of queer Sherlock fans, please spread the word. We have 20 days to raise $5.000 to make this as awesome as possible, and we need all the help we can get :)

Thanks fam!
Sara xoxo

ahead of the wake me up trailer release in a few hours, please tag your posts with b.a.p and remember to watch it on tsent’s channel, not 1thek. The more views the 1thek version has, the more people will see it and want to click on it, and that will take views away from the ts version. It’s better to collect the views in one place - since the matrix comeback, 1thek versions have been gaining more and more views compared to the ts versions, which makes it look like b.a.p is getting much fewer views than they actually have (most of their old mvs have pretty much all the views with ts, while 1thek only has a few hundred thousand). the first trailer has double the views on ts’s channel, which is good so far, but we can make it even better: if you end up accidentally clicking on the 1thek version, please leave a comment asking people to watch it on ts, and upvote any comments saying similar things. thanks!

Dating Jin would include:

Originally posted by bwiseoks

  • eating all of his experimental dishes 
  • and ending up loving them 
  • but then he starts to give you more food than you can take 
  • I beg you, stop feeding me
  • You have to eat, jagi
  • Let me starve
  • Mario couple things
  • being the appa since he’s the eomma and Suga is the grandpa
  • he giving you the best kisses ever 
  • making love, not sex
  • Come to bed, I’ve been missing your smell
  • but actually being really sexy in bed
  • texting you just to ask if you ate
  • he singing in your ear while back hugging you
  • Kids, please stop bothering Y/N
  • Jagi, you look amazing
  • We’re such a pretty couple
  • flying kisses when you say goodbye at the airport
  • pink couple things
  • You guys makes me wanna puke” SUGA
  • you asking yourself “how can someone look this good in the morning?” while watching him sleeping
  • OMG you went blond without telling me” 
  • Have I said that we’re such a pretty couple?

Intersex people can be transgender.

If you don’t identify (fully and completely) with the gender you were assigned at birth, you can identify as trans! That’s all it takes.

We aren’t less trans than non-intersex people.

Your particular combination of secondary sex characteristics doesn’t determine your gender identity, and certainly doesn’t disqualify you from being trans. Your shape, your body hair, your voice, are all things that don’t make you any more trans than others, either.

People are born intersex, it is not a gender identity you can claim.

Intersex is more of a medical condition than a gender identity. The two can combine and overlap, but you can’t “identify” as intersex. Many people are intersex, and don’t know or were lied to about it, so if you think you are intersex you can look into it! But, please understand, it’s not a gender identity and the term is for people who were born intersex and not for others to claim as a gender descriptor.

Trans is a label you can choose to, or not to, adopt for yourself.

It’s okay if you’re comfortable with your body but not the gender you were assigned at birth. You can be trans and not take hormones; that’s a personal choice. Transitioning can include things like changing your name and gender marker, cutting your hair, or buying new clothes.

Being intersex doesn’t make you inherently trans

We don’t all choose to identify that way. Some of us are comfortable with the gender we were assigned at birth. Some of us aren’t and may take steps to transition, but still may not identify as trans and only identify as intersex. Some of us are offered medications and surgeries to “fix” our intersex conditions, which we may choose to have, we may refuse, and we may have had done on/to us without our consent. This may or may not influence our gender identities, but it is always a personal choice.

Intersex people have a nuanced and multifaceted relationship with gender and we are not all the same.

Listen to how people talk about themselves, be patient and respectful, and don’t make assumptions. Feel free to reblog this, add on to it (only if you are also intersex,) and come to me with any questions or corrections!

Arranged {Part 8 Rewrite} [D.M.]

Character: Draco Malfoy
Word Count: 1022
Requested?: Yes/No
Summary: Draco and Y/n aren’t on the greatest of terms, however when both receive news of an arranged marriage, they must learn to tolerate each other, and possibly fall in love…
Other Parts: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 8 Rewrite Part 9
Disclaimer: Gif isn’t mine, credit to whoever made it
Tags: @celine4u @friceaurelia07 @poisonapple13 @zeusmyster @theglitergeek @divisionlunar @lena-lightwood @johnmurphys-sass @grungepolaroihds @codename-petrova @ruiens @elliewatermelonlemonheart @buckyb-avengers @deans-celestial-princess @rissbennett @flags-and-fanfiction @psychogirl0000 @xoxoaudreymarie

+ + + + +

Word had gotten around quickly that you and Theodore Nott were no longer seeing each other. You had expected, at first, Draco to have said at least something to you by now, but he had been surprisingly quiet about the whole ordeal.

Maybe it was for the better that you hadn’t seen him in a couple of days - it’s easier to clear your head of a person and a situation if they’re not constantly around you.

You had skipped your first lesson and decided to walk around the Hogwarts grounds for further clarity over everything, opting to spend time alone rather than have any kind of company.

It was late April, and the trees surrounding the grassy fields were vibrant with colour. Various shades of green contrasted with the bright blue of the sky above, in which the occasional owl flew by.

You sat down on the outskirts of the Black Lake, watching the water ripple softly in the warm breeze. Taking off your jumper, you rested it on your knees and simply sat for a while, contemplating all that had happened to you since September last year.

What with the arranged marriage, and all the pressure that came with it, you had been so caught up in all the emotions that you hadn’t considered anyone else except yourself.

Feeling somewhat at peace beside the lake, you decided to think about everything rationally.


The platinum blonde proved harder to find that you originally expected. After clearing your head of all the madness of the past few months, you’d come to the conclusion that, whilst Draco had hurt you - Merlin, had he hurt you - now that you thought about it, you must have hurt him a lot too.

You had almost given up trying to find the Slytherin prince when you finally caught a glimpse of him walking down the hallway, possibly towards his next class.

“Draco!” You called out, your pace picking up as you tried to catch up with the boy. At the sound of your voice, you saw Draco waver, before he paused, turning around to face you as you reached him.

“What?” He asked. His tone was indifferent, but you could almost see his emotions swimming through his eyes.

“I… I need to talk to you. It’s important,” you said, trying to avoid his gaze. He didn’t say anything for a while, and you almost wished you hadn’t called him back.

“Talk then.” You nodded slightly, twiddling your thumbs as you tried to think of how to word what you wanted to say.

“Okay… okay. So, I’ve been thinking things over, and I’ve realised that… well, I’ve been overreacting? To a lot of things. And… well, I’m not going to say you haven’t hurt me, but I will say that I was so caught up on that, that I didn’t realise I was hurting you too. So I’d just like to say I’m sorry. Because I am. I never wanted to hurt you. I mean, sure, we never got along well, but I would never want to purposely hurt you. The thing is, I’ve realised that we’re just toxic together. We’re so used to hating on each other, and bringing each other down, that this… arrangement… doesn’t work well for us.”

You paused for a moment, risking a glance up at Draco, who was silent, waiting for you to continue. “I guess what I’m trying to say is - and this is only if you want to - we should maybe try again? But this time, we actually try. And that means me too. Because I know I haven’t been doing so. If we take things slowly, step by step, we might have a chance at being at least friends. Because… well, I know I gave the ring back, but I do actually want to make my parents proud. And if that means marrying you, well, then I’ll do it. And… maybe, if you really think about it, this arrangement might not be such a bad thing after all. We might be able to save this, and work it out. I know I’d much rather be marrying someone I can at least converse with, rather than someone I hate.”

Draco still hadn’t said anything. You bit your lip nervously, your hands shaking. Was he mad?

“Draco?” You said his name softly, “Please. Say something.”

“You really think we can work this out?” He started, “You think we can actually go through with this marriage without tearing each other apart? Do you honestly believe we can?”

You nodded, “Yes, I do.” He seemed to be deep in thought as you answered, which made you anxious. You hoped against hope that he would accept your offer.

“Okay. Okay, we can try and make this work,” Draco said with just a hint of a smile. You were on cloud nine, feeling so much happier than you had in months, “Really? Oh Merlin! I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to convince you.”

Draco took a step forward, reaching out to hold your hips to pull you against him, “You’ve convinced me, love.”

You smiled up at him, hardly containing your happiness at being given a second chance.

“Are we friends now then?” Draco asked, running his hands up and down the curve of your waist. “I’d like to be,” you replied, tearing into the blue-grey eyes you had admittedly grown to love.

“Can we be friends that kiss?” Draco asked with a cheeky grin. “That just depends,” you teased. “On what?” “Are you ‘friends that kiss’ with anyone else?” “Not that I know of. Are you?” You shook your head, “Nope. Just with you.”

Draco smiled - a real, genuine smile - as he leant down to press his lips to yours, capturing you in a passionate kiss.

Distracted by his lips on yours, you didn’t even realise that Draco had slipped the ring back onto your finger, sparkling and shining where it belonged.

Starting over may possibly be the best thing for you both. Maybe, with any hope, you’d be able to make the marriage work.

Not for your parents this time, but for you.

Christmas Secrets

Originally posted by martziplier98

Request: Could you do a Teamiplier one with fem!reader that’s Tyler’s sister and she went to LA to visit him on Christmas and she was secretly dating Ethan and Tyler finds out and he’s just like ‘as long as my Christmas present isn’t a niece or nephew I don’t care’

Summary:Fem!Reader goes to visit big brother Tyler + teamiplier but no one knows about Ethan being her boyfriend! Secrets secrets secrets…

A/N: Hello all! It’s 1am for me! This was fun to write! I love writing teamiplier! Italics signify a character’s inner monologue + silent, conversations through stares! Enjoy!

Wordcount: 1805, this was originally only like 1100 words but then I realized it was teamiplier and not just tyler and ethan lol

Request some more! I’ve got my hands quite full right now, so it might take a while, but I’ll get to them!

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