caught the motion

I had a stroke of inspiration today...

“No,” Phil said,  “absolutely not.”

“I don’t remember asking you,” the Director said. “Phil, listen. A group of loose cannons with no official government oversight are running around with what are essentially weapons of mass destruction built in someone’s garage, and they just used those weapons to save New York City in front of millions of eyewitnesses. We need them contained and cooperative but we also need them to keep working in case it happens again.”

“Homeland Security—”

“Already shit the bed on this and you know it. Come on, Phil, you can’t say you don’t want to work with them. I know how much you admire—”

“Yes, all right, fine, no need to rub it in.” Phil scrubbed his face with his hands—or tried to; the motion caught him with a stab of pain as he moved his left arm, and he couldn’t hide his startled wince.

“And there’s another thing,” Fury continued. “You know you’re riding a desk until you finish rehab. Would you really rather be stuck processing paperwork for the next couple of months? And I know you like the weird shit.”

Phil sighed. “All right, fine,” he said. “You win, boss. But when this is over…”

“Talk to me about that when you can lift your left arm higher than your head again, and we’ll see,” Fury said, then his voice softened. “You’re one of my best, Coulson, but I need you back to full strength. And SHIELD needs eyes on these people, you know this. It could be disastrous for everyone if—well. Let’s just say we’d rather maintain a positive relationship. After what just happened to the city, our contingency planning has had to get a whole lot broader.”

Phil stepped out of the cab, looking up at the building before him. It must be nice to be well funded. At least at this job, maybe he wouldn’t have to buy his own pens to get something that wrote without skipping. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and went inside.

New York’s saviors were sprawled out around a high table, eating pizza around heaps of detritus that included circuit boards, a lit blowtorch, several paper blueprints, half-empty coffee cups, and what appeared to be some sort of shotgun that was glowing an unsettling shade of blue.

He cleared his throat. “Excuse me,” he said, meeting each set of eyes as he looked around the table. “Dr. Gilbert? Dr. Yates? Dr. Holtzmann? Ms. Tollan? I’m Agent Phil Coulson, and I’m your new liaison from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division.”

So you know how sometimes the line between actor & character can blur? 

A really freaking cute recent example is the fact that Chris’ heart is literally pumping so hard during the KaraMel kiss scene, that if you’re watching in HD, you can actually physically SEE his pulse!

This was only my second time watching the kiss and my eyes were drawn to the details (lets not talk about the small spit string at the end, I wouldn’t want to ruin it for you! hahaha). But for some reason my eyes caught this small motion in Mon Els neck… and then I realised what it was. 

Suddenly, watching this kiss almost felt invasive and intimate, in a strange kind of way… I mean, I suppose you could interpret it as part of Mon El being sick, or just simply being in character (bc Mon El looks like a nervous lovesick puppy every time they lock eyes smh), but realistically, actors can’t really make their heartbeat speed up on command.

So it was all Chris, and I guess that’s why it feels invasive, because that little slip up of reality broke the fourth wall for me, but also made it so precious, genuine and beautiful. 

Lord knows if I ever had to kiss someone on camera I’d be nervous as all hell. 

SO yeah… Just a thing I wanted to share. Did anyone else notice this?

IronHawk Part 2 (Chapter 6)

Long post because I couldn’t find a decent place to chop it up 🙄🙄 some violence in this one and more developing Logan/Clint
“Another day, another mission, hm Agent Barton?”
Hawkeye didn’t even flinch when he rounded the corner to be mess hall and found Director Fury waiting for him. His wings spread a little farther however, and Fury caught the aggressive motion. “You know, If I didn’t know better I’d think you didn’t like me.”

“He doesn’t.” Logan rounded the same corner just a few seconds behind Clint, brushing past the Director as he made his way to the counter for breakfast.

“Your roommate leaves quite a bit to be desired.” Fury squinted his one eye disapprovingly at Logans broad back.

“What do you want, Fury?”

“Now, is that any way to speak to a man who only has your best interest in mind?”
Clint rolled his eyes, and started moving again, Fury falling into step beside him as he moved through the buffet style breakfast spread.
“I have been talking to Agent Coulson, and we feel like it’s time for you to rejoin the Avengers. They have attracted the attention of a few local vigilante-types, and it would be better for all of us if the entire team was there to make decisions regarding the newcomers.”

Logan looked up from where he was shoveling pancakes into his mouth, and Clint met his eyes uneasily.

“Is that so?” Setting his own tray of waffles, pancakes, cereal, bacon and sausage down at the table, Clint dropped into the seat across from his friend, leaving Fury standing.

“Yes.” The director replied shortly, watching the two men with an thoughtful expression. “In fact, I could even see to making sure your ‘roommate’ is welcome at the tower as well. Since the two of you seem to get along so well.”

If Fury expected Logan to get angry at the insinuation in his tone, he was disappointed. The mutant simply downed his cup of coffee, reached across to spear a waffle from Clints plate, and kept right on eating.

“I’ll think about it.” Clint muttered around a mouthful of food. “Logan if you take food off my plate again I’ll stab you in the hand I swear to god.”

“It’s not really up for discussion Hawkeye.” Fury said impatiently. “You will be-”

“Try and stab me, Wing Boy. Do it.” Logan’s low voice interrupted, and Fury watched with a degree of fascinated horror as three silver blades close to a foot long each slid through the hand casually resting on the table. Clint just laughed and tossed a napkin at the other man before finally turning back to Fury.

“Look, I know I don’t actually have much say in where you send me. But if it’s all the same to you, trust me when I say keeping me from the Avengers tower will keep the peace a lot longer. I am sure you with your all seeing eye are aware of everything that’s happened. It’s better this way.”

“Noted.” Fury couldn’t take his eye off Logan, who was staring at him, amused, as the blades disappeared back into his knuckles. “Does that… hurt?” He couldn’t help asking and Clint chuckled.

“Apparently it hurts every fucking time. Or at least every time I ask him.”

“Noted.” The director repeated, and turned on his heel to go.

“So, you’re leaving then?” Logan asked after he finished another waffle from Clints plate.

“No.” Clint answered shortly. “At least not yet.” he downed a glass of orange juice and wiped his mouth, not missing how Logan’s eyes dropped right to his lips.
Clint tried to ignore the shiver of interest that crawled down his spine.
“ Now let’s go. Time to make the new recruits cry.”

Logan grinned, lit a cigar, and followed his roommate from the mess hall.

Hawkeye spent the morning at the shooting range with rotating teams of SHIELD operatives. Even though he preferred arrows, Hawkeye was just as good, if not better with guns, and the trainees always walked away from their sessions with him thoroughly impressed. He drove them hard, pushing them for excellence well past the point of their arms being tired, and their vision blurring from staring at targets.

In the afternoon he joined Logan in the training gyms, sparring and wrestling with the soldiers.
While Logan had brute strength and endurance for days, his fighting style lacked any grace, he was more of a brawler. He oversaw quite a bit of the strength training.
Clint on the other hand, had always been a cunning hand to hand fighter, helped even more by the strength and agility his wings provided now. He spent more time on technique and form.
While SHIELD hadn’t actively sought out mutants for their ranks, a few had come up through the selection process anyway, and both Logan and Clint enjoyed working with them the best. Their last few hours every day were often spent specifically with those few mutants, working on drawing out their strengths in a way that could be controlled.

Together, the two men were a formidable fighting team, and the cadets enjoyed watching and learning from them. Some days they even fought each other as a contest, no wings, no claws, just man to man.
It was almost always a friendly draw, both men panting in exhaustion by the time they called it quits.
All in good fun though.

Today something was different.
Logan was tense, short with the cadets, and Hawk had finally dismissed them early, tired of Listening to Logan tear them apart for the smallest things.
Clint watched Logan carefully as the mutant circled him in the sparring room. The other soldiers and trainees had already packed up and left when Logan had stopped and asked him if he wanted to go a round.

Clint had agreed quickly, more than willing to work off a few rounds of frustration from Fury’s visit. The Avengers, and as a result, Tony, had been on his mind all day.
Unstrapping his heavy weighted boxing gloves, Clint tugged them off, tossing them in a pile with the long sleeve he had started the day in. He paced around Logan, feeling plenty loose enough in his pants and t shirt.
Logan copied his movement, circling him easily. Then pulled his gloves off too. And his shirt. Clint actually gulped when Logan stood before him in just his wifebeater and low slung jeans.

“Ready, Wing Boy?” Logan raised his fists.

“Oh, right, hold on.” Clint took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, pulling his wings in slowly. It got harder to hide them, now that he wore them free almost every day. It settled like a dull ache in his back when they finally disappeared and he shifted, uncomfortable. But if Logan couldn’t use his claws, Clint couldn’t fly. It was only fair. “Bring it, Big Boy.”
With his typical cocky attitude, Clint dropped into a faux-karate pose and beckoned with two fingers.

Logan smirked.
Then hit him hard.
“God DAMNIT Logan!” Clint yelled, from his back, as the mutant stood over him grinning. Clint stood slowly, shaking his head. He knew Logan always pulled his punches, a full hit from the man would not only snap his jaw, but possibly kill him. But that had fucking hurt.

“Let’s go.” Logan taunted, raising his fists again, and Clint snarled and rushed him.
It took all of his not inconsiderable body weight to get Logan to the floor, but he wasn’t there for long, springing back up to jab at Clint.
The men circled, ducking and weaving, blocking shots from each other. A punch from Clint wouldn’t even slow Logan down, so he dropped, his leg kicking out to put the big man back on the floor. There was a clunk as Logan’s hard head hit the ground and the mutant whistled.

“Really? Tripping me?”

“You almost knocked me unconscious with your first punch, dickwad.” Clint shot back, barely jumping out of the way of Logan’s right fist. “A trip is the least you deserve.”

“And what’s the most i deserve?” Logan tossed back with a laugh. Clint darted past him and slapped his head hard before twisting back around to throw punches at his midsection.

“Well I wouldn’t know, considering we’ve never made it past sparring.” Clint snapped. When Logan went for his legs, he jumped neatly over his back, twisting mid air and landing a solid kick to Logan’s lower back. Logan sent him an amused glance and Clint shrugged.

“I don’t need wings to be awesome.” He snarked.

“So, You want to?” Logan asked, turning quickly to avoid another annoying slap, and tagging Clints shoulder with a hard left.

“Do i want to what?” Clint backed off a few steps, beginning to breathe hard, rubbing his shoulder.

“Go past sparring.” Logan gave him some space, wiping the sweat off his forehead with a heavily muscled arm.

“You want to fight for real?” Clint asked, disbelieving. “We’d tear each other up, man, that doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

“Come on Alpha.” the word coming from Logan’s mouth sounded like… sin, and Clint’s fists clenched against a surge of want. “Show me your wings.”

Clint growled, spreading his legs and calling his wings.
Logan’s eyes widened, dilated, watching them unfurl. There was something so primitive about them, something so wild that made him crazy. Hawkeye was already formidable, but with wings behind him he looked more avenging demon than guardian angel.

“Yeah.” Logan breathed, feeling the animal in him stir. “Yeah, Hawkeye.”

Clint stepped back to his gear, putting his gloves back on. They were weighted specifically for boxing, so it was more of a workout, but in this case it evened the playing field between the two. He still wouldn’t put more than a bruise on Logan, but at least the mutant would feel something.

“Come get me, mutant.” Clint called, stepping back onto the mats.

“You first, Alpha.” Logan purposefully used the word again, his overly sensitive nose picking up the change in Clint’s scent. He wasn’t in tune enough to know if it was anger, or arousal, but any change was good.
Clints wings beat slowly, bringing him off the floor as he cracked his neck.

Logan laughed. “So ready.”

The fight was brutal.
For almost thirty minutes, they grappled with each other.
Logan still had to pull his punches, but Clint certainly didn’t, pounding into Logan’s frame every time they connected. His wings keeping him just out of Logan’s reach, and bringing him back in almost faster than the other could see. Logan ducked and rolled against the onslaught, landing several punches in succession against Clints ribs when he didn’t turn away fast enough. Clint cursed every time a hit landed, and Logan kept laughing. Clint drove Logan to the floor over and over again, the only way he could get him to actually absorb a hit that hurt. When Logan went to jump back up, Clint hooked his arms through Logan’s and lifted him off the ground, to drop him from several feet up.

“Shit Bird boy!” Logan snapped, moving quite a bit slower when he got up this time. From above him Clint just laughed.

“Come on, Logan. Get your heavy ass up and moving! I could do this all day!”
Logan jumped quickly, catching the leg of the off guard Hawkeye, and yanking back him earth, planting a solid punch on Clints jaw.
Clint groaned, and shook his head to clear the stars, just barely ducking in time to avoid another.
“Are you trying to hurt me?!” he griped and Logan shrugged, rolling those big shoulders.

“Well, aren’t we fighting? Alpha? Maybe you should try ACTUALLY hurting me, it might make you feel better.”

Logan didn’t even see Clint coming.
One minute the Alpha was standing there glaring, and the next he had slammed into Logan full force, all the strength of his body and wings smashing Logan onto the cold concrete off the edge of the mats. Logan coughed as the wind was knocked out of him at the impact, shaking his head waiting for the cobwebs to clear.

Hawkeye had pinned Logan down, one arm across the mutants throat, his body a heavy weight all the way down Logan’s tall frame.

“How about that? Did that hurt?” Clint growled, and Logan raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the space between their bodies. Clint followed his eyes, down to where Logan had his claws out, starting to dig into Hawks stomach.

“Are we still fighting?” Logan asked, his deep voice suddenly going soft. Clint took it as a challenge, his eyes shading red and wings pushing back to their full length, arched high and aggressive, body pressing harder to avoid Logan moving.

Logan’s eyes glazed over at the display, and with a soft 'schwing’ his claws slid back, disappearing into his hand, which he then dropped down to his side on the concrete.

The submission unnerved Clint, and he eased off Logan’s throat, his arm resting next to the mutants head. He stared down into the light brown eyes, wings slowly relaxing until they were simply presented out, not aggressive, but not anywhere close to settled and comforting.

“I don’t think so.” he finally answered, and a very small smile crossed Logan’s lips.

“Are you going to go back to the Tower?” he asked, eyes searching Clints face.

“I don’t…think I want to.” Clint said slowly, and that small smile grew a little more.

“Well.” a new voice disrupted their moment, and Clint’s wings snapped forward in defense, just as Logan’s claws made an appearance towards the intruder.
Agent Coulson stood in the doorway. “It looks like your training together has certainly paid off.”

Clint huffed a laugh and pushed himself onto his feet, bringing his wings in close to his shoulders in deference to his boss. Logan stayed on the ground, moving to a sitting position.

“What brings you by the training ground, Coulson.” he asked lazily. “I wasn’t aware you actually did anything besides paperwork and showing up at awkward moments.”

“Just looking for you two.” Coulson’s voice was always so deceptively calm. “Logan, you made quite an impression on Director Fury today. I believe his exact words were ‘that steel claw wielding mother fucker needs to watch his step’.”

“Did you tell him they aren’t steel?” Logan accepted Clints hand up, and grabbed his shirt off the ground.

“Oh it’s not my job to tell Director Fury anything.” Coulson answered easily. “Agent Barton, if i could have a word?”
“Yeah sure. Can you get my gear back to the room?” he asked Logan, who simply nodded, and left. “What’s up?” Clint folded his arms, wings rustling in annoyance.

“What the hell are you doing, Barton?”
@harmonialcollisions @blueglassesfromda @deanwinchestersgirl-4-life @ironhawkisverygay

Amethyst is a crystal of sobriety, which can be interpreted in a plethora of ways. To me, that means bringing clarity and understanding. To bring one a sober mind. An imperative part to having clarity is to listen to yourself, trust yourself and then act accordingly. It’s easy to ignore how we feel and get caught in the everyday motions of life but that makes us lost and, in time, disconnected. I hope you remember to listen to yourself more in the upcoming new year & remember that you deserve the best.

wwetrashqueen  asked:

I thought I could chill the feels your Braun fics served by stepping away, just taking a breath. I thought I was just caught up in the motions of a good read... THEN HE CAME OUT AND I WAS LIKE YEA TEDDY BBBBEAR! Tried to brushed it off like lol I'm fiiine BUT HE WALKED AROUND WITH A PERSON OVER HIS SHOULDER LIKE NOTHING AND THROWING EM DOWN AND ALL I CAN THINK OF IS HIM DOING THAT IN THE BEDROOM NOW 🙈


The Battle of Fear

“Fear is a current we all get caught in, and in its motions faith can be so hard to find..” - Carry Me by Audrey Assad.

This quote is from a song that has gotten me through some rather tough times, this part specifically speaks to me for it describes a great weakness of mine: Fear.

See, I have this tendency to doubt myself and fall into fear when it comes to my deepest passions, dreams, and the circumstances of my life. It is sad really, to struggle to find courage to believe in yourself. For believing in the ability you have within yourself is a frightful thing, you are only human after all. What if you fail? What if it just brings trials and pain? What if you just end up becoming a disappointment? What if you find out that you are not enough? That you do not have what it takes?

And what if those fears were simply that? Just fears.

What is fear anyway? When I started looking at this closely I noticed that fear is something which is not exactly reality. Yet, it is something we choose to believe in, causing us to be hesitant to move forward, or even making us retreat from things because we believe that it can come true. And oh, how could we handle the reality of our fears coming true?! Fear is a very common disease throughout the world, every individual has at one point experienced fear. Now when I speak of fear, I am not talking about a healthy kind of fear, such as, the fear of the Lord, which brings worship and an awe into our hearts. I am speaking of the kind of fear that our minds conjure up when we are doubtful, scared, anxious, or simply not trusting. Fear that comes when we look at the storm going on within us and around us.

“Fear is not real. The only place fear can exist is in our thoughts of the future. It is a product of our imagination, causing us to fear things that do not at present and may not ever exist. That is insanity. Do not misunderstand me, danger is very real but fear is a choice.” - Will Smith, After Earth.

Fear has a way of paralyzing me at times, making me stagnant and strangled in darkness. Causing my heart and soul to dwindle and die. Fear is a tactic of the enemy that he usues to his upmost ability, it helps him to open up more doors within us where he can gain access. The enemy has used fear to hinder my relationship with the Lord, bringing doubt into my mind about God, and drawing my eyes off of the Lord and onto the waves crashing around me. The enemy loves to swallow things with fear, bringing death and destruction. stealing hope and joy.

Now, one of the fun aspects of having accepted Jesus into my heart and life, is that I am on the winning side. Haha! This means I get to stand up and challenge those tactics that the enemy uses, unafraid. Jesus is right by my side, fighting for me day in and day out. He is my source of life, joy, victory, and salvation. Sometimes I forget that my reality rests in the Lord’s mighty hands and I do not have to be afriad.

To give an example: most of my life I have dreamed of being a writer, and throughout my life I can look back and see how God has blessed me with the love and the grace for writing. But boy, oh boy has the enemy used fear and intimidation to keep me from stepping out and reaching for my dreams. I have believed and wrestled with the lie that “I am nowhere good enough to be a writer, I do not have what it takes to become the writer I truly wish to be.” Whenever I thought of this dream within me, my thoguhts were always coupled with those lies of doubt and the fear of eventually disappointing myself.

Until one day, December 24th 2016, I opened my eyes that morning with the question running through my head “Well gosh darn it, why not?” I got up and laughed! For what was stopping me from becoming the writer I want to be?! “Oh, silly-willy Theresa, It was you!” All this time I had let myself believe in these lies which, eventually, I had let become my identity. But in reality, nothing was stopping me from achieving the desires of my heart but myself. Haha! This revelation hit me with an astounding joy and I danced around my room praising God for giving me this delightful news. He showed me who I was in this moment, His daughter. He wants to give me the desires of my heart! Oh how joyious! How Beautiful! How could the enemy stop me now? I have the Lord on my side! Nothing shall prevail against me (Isaiah 54:17).

From that day onward God has been teaching me a lot about Himself and my identity in Him. Giving me new ideas and questions to challenge the lies I have agreed with. Most of these quesitons He has been giving me have been summarized as “Why am I afraid?” Jesus also asked His disciples this very question in Matthew

“…‘Why are you fearful, you of little faith?’ Then He got up and rebuked the winds and the sea. And there was a great calm.’” - Matthew 8:26, HCSB.

Having faith in God and recieving His love is how we can become immune to the attacks from the enemy. Sometimes it is hard to recieve God’s love, because it is hard to believe that He could possibly love something so broken in such a deep way. I struggle with this at times, obviously. But that is where the FAITH comes into play, we must have faith and believe in who God says He is. To have faith in who He is we must also take the time to get to know Him, in His word and in prayer. Otherwise, we are just like the disciples who were afriad in that boat, letting their fear swallow them. Even though Jesus was there with them, they did not recognize who He really was. They lacked faith in the fact that He is God and that He had authority to command the wind and the waves that were crashing around them.

“The men were amazed and asked,'What kind of man is this? Even the winds and the sea obey him!’” - Matthew 8:27, HCSB.

This revelation that God revealed in my heart has freed me from those lies that have haunted and oppressed me into becoming a silent victim most of my life. I am not supposed to be silent and I choose to denounce the lies that say I am. I have put my heart into the Lord’s hands, and from this I have immense joy.

When I was agreeing with these lies I was agreeing with something that God does not agree with. God gave me a voice and for a purpose, He wants me to achieve the desires of my heart. He wants me to write. In fact, throughout my life He has told me time and time again that I will be a writer, that I have a gift of writing, a grace for it. And most of my life I doubted this. I doubted Him, the promises He has given me, and the character of who He says He is.

In order for me to stand confident in my identity, I need to stand before the Lord, heart wide open. Becoming vulnerable with Him, letting Him teach me about who He is. For if I do not know my creator then how will I even know who I am, the created?

As I have continued to question what I have let myself believe in, I have come to realize more and more that all of those fears and doubts that I have are so self-absorbed. ALways causing a focus on my mind, skills, heart, and emotions. It made me only focus on myself, take a look at the first paragraph of this post, its all about Me, Me, oh! and Me.

Ew! No, that is NOT ok. That is not how one should live! Living with your eyes focused inwardly to yourself, you will miss so much beauty in who the Lord is and what He has made. How boring and dull a life is when we are only focused on ourselves. Jesus is the most worthy, thrilling, beautiful, and awe inspiring thing that we get to take the time to know. He invites us to search out the vast mysteries of who He is. How wonderful and meaningful a life is when it is spent with the one who created it.

Once we take our eyes off of ourselves, our circumstances, and the storms around us, and look to Jesus we find that we can do impossible things (Matthew 14:29-31). Peter walked on water, but he began to sink once he took his eyes off of Jesus. I think this is a perfect example of how fear can swallow us, just like a sea swallows a person.

Now, since we are humans, that makes us faulty. We have freewill and get to choose our actions for everything throughout life. I am the type of person who likes to do the right thing, I follow the rules and try to do things to the best of my ability, and I always try to think of others. I like to know what I did wrong so that I can learn from it and learn how to not do that ever again. I want to be able to grow throughout life, always reaching to become a better person. With this, I have to remember not to focus on myself, but to focus on God. Letting him guide me in what I need to grow in, and letting Him search my heart, bringing light to the dark corners that need salvation. For once I set my eyes on Jesus I find that His eyes are already set on me. I get to know more about Him and He reveals the things I need to know about myself. Thus, I find my identity in what He sees.

“I sought the Lord, and He answered me and delivered me from all my fears.” - Psalms 34:4, HCSB.

Stepping back and really looking at fear has been an amazing thing for me. God really is who He says He is. Haha, I feel a little silly as to why I was afriad. Do not get me wrong, I am still afriad of things and God is still working in my heart to set me free from them. Although, it certainly has been funny to see the tiny little foxes that have come into my garden. They really are little, especially compared to the Lion of Judah. I can look at them, laugh, and say “What can you actually do to me?” I am confident in the strength and goodness of my Father in heaven.

So, with all of that said, I encourage you to go on a journey with the Lord, asking Him to show you who He really is and the ways He sees you. Learn from my own mistakes, and recognize fear for what it actually is. Start asking yourself

Why are you afraid?

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own understanding; think about Him in all your ways, and He will guide you on the right paths.” - Proverbs 3:5-6.

Save Me - Chapter 78

Taking my hand, Jared led us back around the corner to the couch we were sitting on. We had missed most of the scene but I suppose I’m only assuming. The submissive was now strapped to a spanking bench as one Dominant fucked her mouth and the other was fucking her from behind.

There was a huge crowd watching now, probably double the amount of people. Jared reached down to grab my clutch from the couch where I left it. Wrapping his fingers around the back of my neck protectively, he guided me back towards the shop. I saw Roger as we got closer and it seemed we caught his eye as Jared motioned to him.

Jared let go of my neck and maneuvered around me. He shared a few words with Roger that I couldn’t quite hear as I caught my breath.

“Your private room is just down this way, please follow me.” Roger replied.

Looking to me, Jared smiled as he wrapped his arm around my waist. Turning his lips to my ear, “You are fucking amazing, baby girl. It’s been an amazing night that only going to get better.”

Roger led us down the hall and stopped at the very last room. Using his key, he unlocked the door, opened it then stepped aside. It was in that moment, when Roger stepped aside that I saw what was on the other side. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised to see a fully stocked playroom but I still was.

“Everything you purchased is on the table as you requested, as well as ice in the ice bucket. I’ve also taken the liberty of leaving bottles of water and a tray of fruit. If you’d like anything else, just let Adam know, he is at your service and will be right outside your door.” Roger explained.

Jared nodded towards Adam then extended his hand and Roger shook it. Roger smiled quickly at me as he passed on his way back down the hall. Jared stepped towards the entry way and held his hand out to me.

“Come here baby, let me show you some of my new toys.”

A chill when down my spine as I took his hand and stepped into the room. Jared closed and locked the door behind me then took my clutch out of my hands, putting it on the table next to the door.

“I reserved this room not really thinking we’d use it. I wasn’t sure how comfortable you were going to be tonight and I thought telling you might make you feel pressured.” He said, pulling me to him and slipping his arms around me, “And that I didn’t want. If we came in here, I wanted you to want this too.”

I pulled myself closer to him and tilted my head up as I went on my tip toes. Holding him tightly, I whispered in his ear, “Sir, you’ve made me very comfortable. I want to submit to you fully, mind and body. Please, show me.”

As I began to step back, I traced the soft beard on his jaw with my nose, taking in his scent. When our eyes finally met, I could see the fire dancing in them. Grabbing my upper arms tightly, he held me nose to nose.

“You have no idea how much I hoped that’s what you were going to say, baby girl.” He said, kissing me hard. His tongue roughly slipped between my lips and he devoured me, nipping my lip hard as he pulled back.

“From this moment forward you will be silent unless you are spoken to and you will not cum without permission, do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir, I understand.” I responded, already feeling a spike of intensity fill the room.

From where we stood, about 6 steps behind us was a four poster bed complete with metal hooks down each of the posts. Quickly backing us up to the edge bed, “Sit” he commanded.

I immediately complied and sat down in the middle of the bed on the very edge folding my hands in my lap. I nervously watched him calmly walk to the table and pick up two rings of black rope and an eye mask.

Turning to me, he began, “Tonight, you won’t need a safe word. We’re going to use the colors of a stoplight. Green means you’re good, yellow means slow down and red means stop. I will be asking you continually so that I can learn your tolerance. You will be honest each time I ask and will answer without hesitation. It would disappoint me greatly if you endured something just because you thought that’s what I want. Do you understand?”

“Yes Sir, I understand.” I answered as I watched his every movement.

Jared walked back to me, placing the rope on the bed. Tilting my head up, he placed the mask around my head but didn’t slip it down to cover my eyes yet.

Bending so that we were eye level, he started to explain, “We will be moving quite a bit around the room. You’re eyes will be covered so I’ll need you to concentrate on my voice. I promise, I will be there to guide you every step of the way. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir, I understand.” I could hear the trembling in my voice.

“There’s nothing to be scared of, baby girl, relax. I want you to just feel. To enjoy. Giving you pleasure gives me pleasure.”

Taking a deep breath, I nodded my head to him. Even I knew I needed to relax.

“Good girl.” He said, tilting my head with his fingertip, quickly kissing my lips then slipping the mask over my eyes.

Jared took my right wrist in his hand and I felt as he looped rope around it. I could hear him feeding the ends through the top loop on the post then hoisting my arm high in the air. Next, he moved to the other side, tying then hoisting that arm as well. As I sat on the bed, I was in a Y configuration.

His hand cupped my cheek and I tilted my head towards his hand. “What color, baby girl?” He asked.

“Green, Sir.” I immediately responded.

“Very good. Stand up, baby.” He said as I felt his hands around my waist, steadying me as I stood.

Without my sight, every other sense was heightened. I could hear everything so much clearer and my skin felt especially sensitive. That should make things even more interesting.

I stood there for a moment, Jared wasn’t touching me but I could feel his presence. I took another calming breath, releasing it slowly though my nose. One more and I began to feel the tense muscles in my shoulders start to release.

Jared traced my parted lips with his finger then trailed it between my breasts to the edge of my bustier. “You look so fucking amazing bound to the bed wearing that sexy outfit, I wish you could see how hot you look.” He said, cupping my breasts in his hands then sliding them to my waist. “To be honest, part of me wants to use this space to play with you but the other part,” he quieted, gathering his thoughts for a moment, “the other part, wants to throw you down and fuck you senseless. I’ve never had anyone test my control the way you do.”

Slipping two fingers on either side on my clit between my slick folds, squeezing my clit between them then he gently pulled away from my body. I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped my lips. Thank god for the restraints. If it wasn’t for them, I’d already be a heap on the floor.

The T-Shirt

Cas tossed the Nerf basketball up into the air and caught it.  He repeated the motion three times until he was bored.  He was lying on Sam’s bed, waiting for him to finish wrapping a gift for his mother.  He threw the ball toward the ceiling, but missed it when it came back down.  It rolled out of his reach.

“Are you going to ask Madison to Winter Formal?” Cas asked.

“Don’t know.  Maybe.  You gonna ask anyone to the Winter ‘Party’?”

Castiel made a face at the name.  They couldn’t call it a “dance” at middle school anymore because a couple of parents had claimed that encouraged early dating and underage sex.

“Don’t know.  Probably not.”

“What did you get on Singer’s midterm?”

Castiel sighed.  “A ninety.”

“Last year I got an eighty-four, stop complaining.”

“He grades too harshly.”

“Tell him that.”

“Pass.  So…does your family have any plans for Christmas?”

“Same old, same old,” Sam sighed.  “Christmas Lights Hayride thingie, Christmas Eve party at my parents’ friend’s house, presents, too many candy canes.  You?”

“Midnight mass.”


“Yeah.”  Cas picked at the bedspread.  “So…Dean’s coming home, right?”

Sam stopped wrapping and turned around in his chair, hooking an arm over the back.  He smirked at Cas.

“There it is.”

“Shut-up,” he mumbled.  “It’s a legitimate question.  He didn’t come home for fall break or Thanksgiving break.”

Sam laughed and turned back to his desk.  “Yes, he’s coming home tomorrow.  For two whole weeks.”

“Are you guys doing anything for his birthday?  He’ll be nineteen, you know.”

“Yes,” Sam said dryly.  “I do know how old my brother is.  But, he’ll be back at school by then.  So, we’ll probably just send a care package in the mail.”

“Does he like school?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?  You have his email.”

Cas shrugged.  “I don’t want to bother him.”

Sam snickered.  “You’re his fiancé, right?  You won’t be bothering him.”

Castiel blushed hard and threw a pillow at Sam.  It hit him square in the back of his head since he didn’t see it coming.


“Will you shut up about that?  It’s so embarrassing,” Cas groaned.

“Why is it embarrassing now?  You’ve been saying you were going to marry Dean since kindergarten.”

“Yeah, and now I’m old enough to know how silly and childish that was.  That it was just make believe.”

“Yeah, but…you didn’t think it was make believe.”

Castiel turned over to hide his steaming face in the sheets.

“Just because you fell in love when you were five, doesn’t mean your feelings aren’t real,” Sam piled on.

“I should go home,” Castiel said, sitting up.

“Oh, come on, I’m sorry.  I was teasing.  I’ll stop.”

“No, it’s not that.  I’ve been here for like six hours and my mom says I spend too much time here.  That I annoy you guys.  And she’s always like, ‘Don’t you have other friends?’  And I’m like, yeah I have other friends, but why can’t I choose to spend my time with my best friend?”

“I’m—I’m your best friend?”

Anyone else the comment would have been sarcastic.  With Sam, he was genuinely touched.

“Yeah, you dork.  You are.”

“You’re my best friend too.  And one day, you’ll be my best brother-in-law!”

Castiel groaned loudly and threw the other pillow at Sam.  “I’m leaving.”

Sam grinned.  “Okay.  My mom’ll probably call your mom soon to set up a time for the Christmas Lights Hayride thing.  You can snuggle up with Dean!”

Castiel was already out the door.  “I can’t hear you!” he called out.

He walked down the stairs and picked up his hoodie from the hook by the front door.  Mrs. Winchester stuck her head out of the kitchen, her hands were covered in some kind of dough.

“Are you leaving, Castiel?”

“Yeah, I need to get home for dinner.”

“Okay.  I’d give you a hug, but…”  She held up her sticky hands.

“Jesus, Mom!” Sam yelled from upstairs.  “You’ll probably see him tomorrow too.  You don’t have to hug him every time he leaves.”

Mary made a face but didn’t respond to her son, she blew Cas an air kiss and he smiled at her.

“Bye, Mrs. Winchester.”

“I miss when you used to call me Mrs. Winchesser.”

Cas ducked his head.  “Uh, yeah…”

“Jesus, Mom!  Let the poor guy go!”

“You mind your business, Samuel!”

Cas grinned and opened the front door.  He stepped out onto the front porch, pulling the door closed behind him.  A gust of wind blew past him and made him shiver.  He looked down to fit the ends of the zipper on his hoodie together and didn’t see the person coming up the front walk.

“Whoa, hey,” a voice that Castiel would recognize anywhere said.  “Heads up.”

Cas’ head snapped up and Dean was holding his shoulders to keep them from running into each other.  He smiled and Cas almost fainted.  Dang.  Dean was so beautiful.  So grown up.  So…manly.

“What are you doing here?” Cas blurted out.

“Uh, I live here,” Dean said as he teasingly ruffled Cas’ hair.

“No, I mean,” Cas paused.  His face felt like it was on fire.  “Sam said you weren’t coming home until tomorrow.”

“Ah.  I caught a ride home with someone leaving earlier, and I thought I would surprise everyone.”

“Oh.  Welcome home.”

“Thanks.  So, have you and Sammy been behaving?”

Castiel smiled and shrugged.  “Would we ever cause trouble?”

Dean threw his head back and laughed.  Cas and Sam were notorious troublemakers who somehow never managed to actually get into trouble.

“H-how is school?” Cas asked, encouraged by Dean’s reaction.

“It’s good.  Fun.  How about you?  You’re in high school now, right?”

Cas shrugged dejectedly.  “Well, I’m in eighth grade, so I’m still in middle school.”

“Oh, right.  Bummer.”

“Yeah.  I miss Sam.”  Cas looked away, feeling dumb for saying that.

“Yeah, I get it.  I miss Sam too.”

Cas looked up.  “You do?”

“Yeah.  But don’t you dare tell him I said that.”

Cas shook his head.  “I promise.”

They stared at each other for a few nice but slightly awkward moments.

“Well,” Dean started.  “I should get inside…”

“Right!  I was going home too.”

“Okay, well, zip up.  It’s cold out here.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah…”

Cas looked down to work on his zipper again, and then suddenly Dean grabbed the lapels of the hoodie and pushed it off Cas’ shoulders.  Castiel looked up, heart slamming in his chest.  Holy-fuck-a-doodle.  Was Dean going to…

“Is that my T-shirt?”

Cas looked down—and nearly died of mortification.

Sam had asked him to go into Dean’s room to retrieve a DVD not long after he’d left for college in August.  He’d spotted a T-shirt mostly hidden under the bed, and he’d picked it up so that Mrs. Winchester could put it in the wash.  Then he’d held it in his hands and recognized it as one of Dean’s favorite band T-shirts.  In a moment of insanity and stalker-ish perversion, he’d taken the shirt.  He hadn’t even realized he’d put it on that morning.  Both Sam and Mrs. Winchester had seen him in it.  And now Dean…

“I’ve been looking for that all semester,” Dean said, still looking at the shirt.

Castiel was figuring out the best way to change his identity and move to Siberia so he would never have to see any Winchester ever again, so his apology was disjointed and stammered.

Dean laughed and pulled the hoodie back up onto his shoulders.  “Don’t worry about it, man.”  He zipped the hoodie up almost to his chin.  “I suppose my fiancé can borrow my clothes.”

He gave Cas a wink and then stepped around him and went inside the house, announcing his presence loudly to the occupants inside.

Cas stood dazedly on the walkway until the cold penetrated his bubble of warm, gooey happiness.  He let out a soft whoop and began running home, feeling like he was on air the whole way.  He opened the door to his home and swung around on the doorknob.  His mother started at the sudden intrusion as she’d been coming down the stairs.  She held onto the banister and put a hand to her chest.

“My word, Castiel.  What has gotten into you?”

Castiel shut the door and floated up the stairs, pausing to give his mother a kiss on the cheek as he passed her.

“Dean proposed!” he laughed, and continued up the stairs.

His mother stared after him, jaw open wide in shock and confusion.

@tadmean​ is feeling blue

I grew up on the crime side, the New York Times side
Staying alive was no jive

The music kept Cobalt’s ears and mind occupied as his body went through every motion with passion and precision. It was easier to stay in control when his body was so used to the patterns of working the bag. He was a continent away from everything safe and normal, and Cobalt never adjusted well to travel on the first day out of town. So instead of hitting the stands at the Vital Festival with his team, Cobalt was training in Beacon’s gym for the tournament, still some days away.

Old shoes, some shorts, and a careworn concert shirt didn’t hide the metal implants lining the outward side of his arms and legs, even exposing the first in the long line down his spine. Cobalt didn’t much care. His scroll resting on a nearby bench, and the gym to himself, Cobalt was too caught up in the motions. He didn’t even notice someone come in.

missing in action (closed starter)

Doggo was sitting at his stand, nearly falling asleep from boredom. he was supposed to be on guard, but absolutely nothing was happening that day. suddenly, a blur of motion caught his eyes. all of a sudden, the dog jumped up “WHAT?!?! MOVING?!?!” he shouted, his eyes frantically darting around looking for what might have caused it.

I’m slowly working my way through the Discworld novels during my downtime at work, and I just finished Sourcery, which was published back in 1988.

This paragraph appears on page 178 of Sourcery, when the characters find a magic flying carpet.

Conina spread the carpet on the floor. It had a complex pattern of golden dragons on a blue background. They were extremely complicated dragons, with long beards, ears and wings, and they seemed to be frozen in motion, caught in transition from one state to another, suggesting that the loom which wove them had rather more dimensions than the usual three, but the worst thing about it was that if you looked at it long enough the pattern became blue dragons on a gold background, and a terrible feeling stole over you that if you kept on trying to see both types of dragon at once your brain would trickle out of your ears.

Guys, this book was written in 1988. He wrote this book about 25 years ago. 25 years ago, Pratchett wrote a book with a reference to a fabric that looks blue OR gold depending on how long you look at it.

How did this happen.

You Belong with Me

note: well this is kinda based on that taylor swift song/mv (sorry if you dont like her but the song had a really good plot) so yeah come talk to me about it lmao

pairing: calum and y/n

word count: 2.9k


Homework surrounded me as I clutched my phone in my hand, turning up the music to drown out all the stress pent up in my body. As the lyrics soothed me and my breath hitched in my throat when I couldn’t remember what the hell slope intercept form is after focusing on Geometry for a year, I could see Calum pacing back and forth in his bedroom. He was clutching his black curls in his hands, mouth moving rapidly, just trying to speak over whoever he was talking to.

When his phone call finished, his eyes immediately go to mine, flashing me a forced smile as I blushed from being caught. He motioned me to open up my bedroom window while he did the exact same with his. My elbows rested on my windowsill as Calum sighed in annoyance.

“You okay?” I asked, tilting my head so it rested in the palm of my hand.

He shook his head, lips pressed into a tight line. Avoiding my gaze, he mumbled,  “Jus’ tired of drama,” loud enough for me to hear.

“Sorry to hear that.”

He shrugged. “Don’t be. S’not your fault.” As he stretched his arms above his head and yawned loudly, his muscle rippled through his thin black shirt. His gray sweatpants hung low on his hips. “She’s my girlfriend and I really like her. I just don’t know if she likes me anymore.”

With the words I like you on the tip of my tongue, I opened my mouth to speak but was cut off when Calum yawned again. “M’gonna sleep. Don’t stay up too late worrying about school. G’night Y/N.”

And with that, he shut his window and pushed his curtains together so I was facing the side of his house, staring at the blue curtains that separated me and him from a conversation.

I knew I liked Calum. Would I ever say it to his face? Probably not. But how am I supposed to do that when Calum was extremely hot—hotter than the flames of hell, a soccer player who could kick a ball at my face and I wouldn’t even mind, and he was sweet? Some guys are real dicks who think girls are only on the planet to worship the male species, but Calum is so aware that girls could be just as great as guys can, sometimes even better.

He was the epitome of a triple threat, loved by all, and I was a nobody known by no one at all. But even if I was an outcast, Calum liked to make me feel like I mattered. We would spend nights talking through our windowsills until two in the morning. He would come over once in awhile, cuddling up in my comforters while I tried to finish my homework from English. If we weren’t neighbors, I don’t think he would even acknowledge me. But thank God we were.

Crawling off my bed to look at my reflection, I couldn’t stand to see what was standing before me in the mirror. I knew I wasn’t the most perfect person out there, but imagine how great it would be if I just looked the way I wanted to? For example, Calum’s girlfriend is the most gorgeous person you could ever meet with her short skirts and legs that went on for miles.

I felt the fabric of my t-shirt between the pads of my fingers. She wears the cutest clothes you can get from the mall and I wear articles of clothing that would make Tyra Banks turn away in horror. My shirts aren’t ugly ugly, but wearing it with one of Calum’s girlfriend’s skirts would look idiotic, and I didn’t need attention on me, especially if it’s something as negative as not matching the color of my pants to the color of my eyeshadow.

Not wanting to dwell on the fact that his girlfriend was better than me on any scale, I turned away from the mirror, done with how I felt about myself all because I couldn’t stop comparing myself to society’s standards.

Instead of trying to drown out the stress from homework, the volume on my speakers increased to drown out the feelings of insecurity bubbling inside of me. With my hand clutching my hairbrush as I danced around my bedroom to a classic All Time Low song, I couldn’t help but feel exhilarated singing without a care in the world. As if the papers on my bed from Maths class meant nothing, I swiped them off my bed messily to hop onto the surface and belt out any of the words that I can remember in “Something’s Gotta Give”.

While I was screaming along to the music, jumping up and down and spastically bopping my head like I was at a 90’s rock concert, I neglected the fact that my bedroom window was still open, letting everyone on the streets of Sydney hear my banshee screaming. Also, I never realized the boy next door pull back his curtains sleepily, wondering what the noise was, just to see me hopping around and grinning like a spaz.

Along with that, I missed the fond smile toying at the corners of his lips before he shook his head jokingly and actually went to bed.

Keep reading


Sean O’Pry by Sean Armenta
STATUS magazine April 2015

(1)(2)(4) H&M top, Superdry jacket, John Varvatos scarf, Hudson jeans
(5) H&M top, Joe’s Jeans pants, John Varvatos boots