do you not see the irony

on draco malfoy's patronus being a thestral

I AM HERE TO ANSWER YOUR CALLS thestral may seem like a badass / very strange choice of a patronus for draco but I am here to explain WHY I think it should be draco’s patronus!!! I’d love to hear your thoughts / have people elaborate on my thoughts so feel free to!

First off, I feel like a lot of people brush off the idea of him having a thestral patronus because heck, why should draco malfoy of all people have a mythical creature? But that’s one of the reasons why i love it. We all know that draco would absolutely LOVE having a mythical patronus ( you know, being special ) but I stand strongly behind the idea that the ONE mythical patronus he would have never wanted is a thestral.

A patronus is suppose to be a representation of yourself, and why the hell would he like it if he had patronus that reminds him of the war? of him being a death eater? of what he had to do and what it ended up causing? it’s an irony i love to indulge in & think about. Rather than being stuck up and proud i personally think draco would have wished for anything else. I’m pretty sure draco would be the type who would pull a disgusted face if he saw a thestral rather than be happy by it. He wouldn’t want to show this patronus off. Like, can you imagine? Pansy pestering him to show her, “wow i bet it’s a fucking ferret, isn’t it”, and when she actually sees it everything goes to shit because of fucking course, draco malfoy out of all people would have a thestral patronus, that even the embodiement of his happiest memory and his soul would link back to the horrors of the war and what he’s done.

Thestrals as you all know are considered to be dangerous, omens of misfortune and only visible to those who have seen death. They are quite literally representative of death. It spells out /evil/ and /bad/ no matter how you look at how the world portrays them.

This is where I’m grateful for Luna Lovegood. We’ve all seen a different side to the thestrals in the films, with Luna stating that “they’re quite gentle, really, but people tend to avoid them because they’re a bit…different.” Thestrals externally look ghostly, grim with them being dark & skeletal all the way through ( this could be another reason why draco = thestral but i’m not making that connection LOL ) if we place in on a canon timeline, the only place where draco would /really/ be trying to conjure a patronus would be after the war, and keeping that in mind it makes a lot of sense. It’s not a big stretch to say that post-war draco became an image of the war, with him being a death eater. His past haunts him, with people only seeing into his image of a death eater without acknowledging him trying his best to redeem himself.

The whole idea of a thestral being a creature that is representive of death & misfortune but also having the ability to be a person’s patronus, basically the opposite of what a thestral is known for, is SUCH a good way of describing draco. The image of post-war draco malfoy is like the image of a thestral in a flowerfield, they stand out too much for their setting of peace despite them not doing anything but being themselves. People fear/hate thestrals and they can’t help it, just as people can’t help but slap “death eater” on draco.

BUT! despite their external appearances thestrals are gentle, extremely loyal…and cutting away at the war and everything else we know draco is loyal. He is so loyal to his family, and even if its /bad/ he wouldn’t hesitate to defend them even if it’s by taunting / mocking the person. He loves them, and this goes both ways - maybe it’s him being prideful of his blood heritage because of how he was raised, or maybe he truly really loves his family ( which i definitely think he goddamn does ). Thestrals can be representative of both, they are attracted to the smell of blood but will also become aggressive if they view someone as a threat to themselves, their friends or even their owner.

It makes sense that draco’s patronus would be a gentle, misunderstood being who sometimes does the wrong thing out of love, or fear, but for a reason that isn’t purely “ because i wanted to”. I just really like the idea of a thestral both symbolising draco’s deeper, hidden parts that he’s too scared to show to the world while also simultaneously being able to represent his life and what he experiences.

I also do think it’ll be a nice way to make draco get over the horrors of war and let go of his past and just live. Draco coming to terms with him having a thestral patronus would practically be him coming to terms with who he is and the mistakes he’s made.

And just to add onto everything above : draco was owner of the elder wand at a point ( thestral hair core ), and thinking about when he was the owner and what was happening at the time, i think everything works out nicely.

All in all i just think thestral is a really clever choice for draco, and clever just so happens to work perfectly for him.


when are people gonna realize that carefree black boys is for BLACK BOYS. if a black boy’s idea of being carefree is just wearing a flower crown, why are you condemning them? do you see the irony of you being mad that their standard of carefree isn’t the standard you had in mind? for some black boys wearing flowers in their hair is a big step in breaking gender barriers. let niggas be carefree in their own way. damn.

I’m just #stunned at some of these liberal activists trynna be ultra nationalist with their useless activism “this is America the land of the free and brave this shouldn’t happen here!!” “These muslims are exceptional because they engaged with the same imperial and colonial apparatus that targets other muslims we deem innately criminal we can’t turn our back on them!!” And then yesterday the way people were chanting “USA USA” when people were finally let go from the airport like……do none of you see the irony.

anonymous asked:

I've seen several photos portraying Japanese girl gangs fighting in long pleated skirts. how viable of an outfit is this in terms of combat?

I’m going to avoid talking about the cultural context for the skirts, which there is and just focus on the practicality.

The answer to any question involving combat is “it depends”, and when we talk about an article of clothing that is dependent on that specific article of clothing. It also depends on the kind of combat you plan to have your character engaging in. Street brawls are very different from armored melee. If your character is a female soldier, she’ll be dressing according to whatever regulations her military has (that could involve a skirt for dress uniforms, but battle and dress are different).

There is no “one-size fits all” approach as the field of battle matters, the kind of opponent matters, the skill level of all parties involved matters, context matters. What your intentions are matter.

They all factor into the decision making process. What you need to do when looking at articles of clothing and trying do decide if it’s a yes or no is learn to think from the internal perspective of someone who would actually be engaging in physical conflict. If you’re thinking of someone heading into a dangerous situation where they couldn’t outwardly look like they were expecting trouble then the question is: if you expected to be caught and forced to fight, what kind of clothing would you prefer to be caught in?

It starts with you and we work our way out from there as you learn more about the conditional nature of combat. When it comes to Hollywood, the irony is that most of the clothing male action heroes wear will work for basic street combat whereas the clothing for women won’t. Would you want to be hunting monsters through the sewers in six inch heels? Probably not.

For what the girl gangs are doing, it works. In fact, it works better than a miniskirt or any other tight clothing common for women in the US or the leather bondage outfits you often see women fighting in on television. You’ll still see women in the real world wear those. Not because it works, mind you, but because they’re afraid they won’t be perceived as feminine, sexy, or attractive. They overcompensate in the wrong direction, the same way Hollywood and media do, and for the exact same reasons.

Sometimes, people make choices that have nothing to do with what’s appropriate or what works. Sometimes, they’re trying to balance between societal expectations, cultural mores, gender constraints, and what they’re trying to accomplish. Sometimes they’re trying to be outside the box and inside the box at the same time. And, sometimes, they can get away with it. What they’re doing and who they’re fighting means they’ve a greater margin for error, versus someone faced with an enemy where they need every advantage they can get.

What you want, especially with street fighting, is freedom of movement.

This is why you often see tank tops or very loose fitting shirts on military personnel. If you’ve got a shirt that fits tightly around the shoulders, that’ll impede your movement, restrict the rotation of the shoulder. If you’re pants are too tight or limit flexibility, then that slows you down and will limit how high you can kick, how well your leg moves, etc.

You want durable clothing.

Clothing that protects you in a fall or when you’re rolling around on the ground. If you can’t see it absorbing impact or protecting you from scrapes when you hit the earth, then it isn’t a good pick.

You want clothes that breathe.

Combat is a high energy exercise, it’s frenetic, it’s fast, and it takes a lot of exertion. If you’ve ever brought the wrong kind of clothing when you’re going jogging or watched makeup melt off girls in P.E. class then you know what I’m talking about. Clothes that cause you to overheat, that don’t allow the heat to escape your body, that you can’t run or sprint in, will actively do you harm in a fight. By participating in exercise with a high energy output, you are already heating up your body. (This is part of why we sweat, we’re cooling our body down.) The hotter you get, the faster you burn through your water. The hotter you get, the faster you reach a point of critical exhaustion which will get you killed.

However, “what works” for combat is heavily dependent on the kind of combat your character plans to (or potentially might) engage in. The rules change based on what you’re doing, what you need, what the chances of success are, who the enemy is, the terrain you’re fighting on.

There’s also the other side, beyond practicality, which is you know, cultural expectations and considerations. How your character feels about gender norms, whether they care about being perceived as feminine or masculine, whether they care about expectations, whether they’re vain, or willing to get themselves killed over fashion.

There’s also the part in fiction where how someone is dressed becomes an indicator for how serious the situation is/threat level is. That’s a visual tell you see used often in film and television.

Remember, skill and experience don’t free you from the same constraints that affect other characters. They just mean your character can make more intelligent choices based on what they know. They can get away with more, but it will still catch up to them in the end.

So, be Helen Mirrim in R.E.D. and take out armed gunmen with a reinforced clutch and the element of surprise.

Try thinking about the situation from the perspective of the character involved rather than overall generic rules. Practicality changes on a situational basis, and there are plenty of people who will go Rule of Cool in real life. This is especially true of gangs, where efficacy loses out to intimidation.

People are people. All the factors going into a decision may not be the ones you expect or are looking for.


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Live a Little

Live a Little: Yoonseok (threesome) (m)

Word count: 3.5k

Genre: pure filth, threesome 

This was going to be for Yoongi’s birthday but i’m late. Anyway, enjoy ^^

Originally posted by yoongiggles

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Fear of Loss Leads to the Dark Side

Touken? I don’t know her, let’s talk about Ui Koori more. 

What I noticed right away from this chapter was Ui’s outfit change, he’s gone from wearing white primarily in the middle of missions to all black. It could be simply to match Furuta’s change, he is after all on the chessboard a black king where previously Ui fought as an ally of the white king Arima.

My mind however, jumped immediately to a different conclusion. Ui’s decision to dress in all black, and stand at Furuta’s side means he has decided to join the dark side of the force.

Yes, let’s talk star wars. 

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Alex’s Sorting

Prompt from the lovely @iamdeltas – “Maybe something about when they first get sorted into their houses, and Alex is really upset about being in Slytherin.”

(Note: in this minific, Kara came to live with the Danvers a few years earlier than she did in canon, so before Alex was sorted.)

Eliza would have been most pleased with Ravenclaw.

“Oh, the good you can do with that mind of yours, Alex, why would you ever put that to waste?”

Alex supposes Eliza would be okay with Gryffindor, too, because even though that’s the House for those “hard-headed ruffians would put brawn and ego before brains and forethought,” a little bravery would help her protect Kara better, wouldn’t it?

And hell, herself.

Though that never seemed to be a consideration of Eliza’s.


Eliza just wouldn’t believe it. And, frankly, neither would Alex.

Before Kara came to live with them, she thought of herself as a toss-up between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

Her father always was telling her how selfless she was. How willing to put other people before herself. The way she loved, hard, fierce, with everything she had.

And she had a lot.

But then Kara came to live with them, and Eliza cornered Alex into being a third parent for her little sister, and then Jeremiah…

Everything she’s had to be, everything she’s had to bury, everything she’s had to become…

She’s got no chance at Hufflepuff, now.

She knows that.

But Slytherin?

Eliza would send a Howler for sure.

Because “Alexandra, it’s a disgrace to this family, to have such hatred in our midst” and “don’t you know their reputations, Alexandra, how could you possibly embrace those parts of yourself?” and “what on earth will Kara do when she gets to Hogwarts? Because they certainly won’t accept her into that elitist House of yours.”

Alex won’t comment on the irony. It’s always useless, anyway.

She’s useless.

Useless, because the Sorting Hat hears her pleas for Ravenclaw.

“Well you certainly have the brains for it. My my, what smarts there are in here.”

But that’s not all the Hat has to say.

“But courage, too, oh my dear, the courage of a lion indeed.”

And the damn Hat still isn’t done.

“So much buried in such a young heart; so much determination to do right by your sister, your mother, the memory of your father… Slytherin would serve you well, you know – oh, now now, resistant to the idea, I see – they’ll teach you to look out for yourself, you know, and the people you love, instead of looking out for the people you love at the cost of your own life – “

And it’s that.

That idea – the idea that she can protect Kara, and also, somehow, learn to look out for herself, too – that makes Alex’s brain buzz. That makes Alex’s heart leap.

That makes the Hat crack into a muffled smile and shout, “Slytherin!”

But she still cries in the bathroom.

Still cries when she slips away from the other first years, because she knows, lord, she knows, that when the owl post comes in the next morning, it is not going to be pretty.

Hogwarts was supposed to be her escape.

And now it’s just going to be something else she’s done wrong.


The voice is small and the voice makes her crying stop cold. Makes her freeze and makes her heart do something she’s never felt before.

“What?” she snaps from inside the stall, and she thinks maybe the Hat was right about her, after all.

“It’s Danvers, right?”

“Who’s asking?” she snaps again, but even she can hear that her words are muffled by snot, by tears, by agony.

“Uh, sorry, I don’t mean to get in the way. I um… I’m Maggie. Sawyer. Maggie Sawyer. And I saw you slip away from the other Slytherins and I thought maybe… I thought maybe you could use a friend. Or something.”

Alex scoffs, still inside the stall, still not able to put a face to this name.

But she does remember the name.

And it figures, it really does.

“Hufflepuff, huh?”

She can’t see the girl, but she can feel Maggie bristle, can hear it in her voice.

“That a problem?”

Alex cracks a smile, and she’s glad this Hufflepuff girl can’t see. She rubs her eyes and she wipes her nose on the sleeve of her robe, and she unlocks the stall.

Her heart leaps, and she’s not quite sure why.

The girl is pretty. The girl is more than pretty.

She’s got these deep eyes, and this cute ponytail under her hat, and she’s got these adorable dimples. Alex can tell because the girl – Sawyer – smiles when Alex pops out of the stall.



“So is it a problem? Me being a Hufflepuff?”

“Not if it’s not a problem that I’m a…”

“Is that why you’re crying?”

“I’m not crying.”

Maggie just looks at her, and somehow there’s no judgment on her face.

“Well, I don’t know much about… all this. But I met this boy, James – he got sorted into Gryffindor, we sat together on the train – and he says sometimes Slytherins are the bravest and smartest and most selfless people. That you can’t tell who someone is by the color of their tie.”

“You’re a strange one, Sawyer – anyone ever tell you that?”

Maggie chuckles, like she knows Alex means it like a compliment – because she does.

“Only every day.”

They giggle softly, almost sadly, and they jump when the bathroom door opens.

“Oy! First years, aren’t you supposed to be with your Prefects?”

“I… I got sick. Too much pudding at the Feast. Threw up. Sawyer was helping me.”

The strikingly beautiful, older girl in Gryffindor robes, with a gleaming Head Girl badge, arches a careful eyebrow, like she knows Alex is lying, but she doesn’t mind.

“Alright you two. Come on, I’ll show you to your common rooms. Well, as far as I can go through the dungeon, anyway, for you – Danvers, is it? – and to the kitchen for you. Sawyer, right?”

“Yeah. Um, thank you…”

“M’orzz. M’gann M’orzz. Come on then. You can continue this risque inter-House friendship in the morning.”

Alex gulps, and Maggie does the same.


Ten minutes ago, the thought was relatively foreign to both of them.


Now, the morning is suddenly something to look very much forward to.

It’s a Buck Girl Thing (3/?)

Based loosely on ‘It’s a Boy Girl Thing’ (2006)

Summary: You (female reader) pine after Steve Rogers whilst Bucky is being a little shit. One night after an argument on the rooftop you wake up in each other’s bodies.

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Sexual content and swearing

A/N: Hey I’m sorry there’s not much happening in this chapter but it’s a sizeable chunk now so I thought I’d post it out to you! I hope it’s not too boring for you?

Also, I know I need a masterlist for this - hopefully it’s done for the next chapter…


Originally posted by capsteverogers-things

You marched toward your old bedroom – it was high time you cleared this up because how could Bucky be so casual about all this, yet you found it so antagonising? Why did it seem like a punishment to you, but he was casually strolling around the kitchen, smirking and flirting and being his usual ass-self? This was not fair, and you were on a mission to set things straight.

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anonymous asked:

Could you PLEASE do these prompts. "I give up, she wants you and ONLY wants you." While Kate's in hospital in 4x01 Josh holds her hand but she calls him Castle in her sleep. Her storms out if the room and finds Castle coming to visit Kate Or Based on a pretty little liars scence. Rick sneaks into Kate's hospital room in 4x01 and kisses in her forehead while she's asleep

A/N: I hope you don’t mind that I attempted to combine both prompts into one and I hope this fill is at least somewhat close to what you had been hoping for.


Castle pauses outside her hospital room, bends to catch his reflection in the glass window beside the door, and attempts to tame the mop of his hair. He hasn’t had the chance for more than a quick rinse in the shower since she had been admitted, unwilling to stay away for long. But his appearance isn’t what matters; all that matters to him is Kate Beckett, the privilege of knowing that she is living and breathing in the next room, that he gets to see her.

Rick takes a deep breath as he straightens up, adjusts the bouquet of flowers in his arms, and reaches for the door. But it swings open, the momentum so strong it slams into Castle’s shoulder, before he can even take a step forward.

He’s not exactly surprised to see Josh on the other side, but the repressed fury simmering in the other man’s gaze certainly isn’t what Castle would have expected, especially not after a visit with Kate.

Josh lets out a bitter scoff as the door swoops shut behind him and his eyes land on Castle. “Of course you’re here.”

Rick sighs, too tired, too worn, to do this with her boyfriend again. He just wants to see Kate. “Look, Josh, I’m not here to start trouble, I just-”

“That’s the irony,” Josh bites out, shaking his head incredulously while Rick’s brow furrows in confusion. “You don’t have to be here to start trouble. You never had to be there.”

“I… don’t understand,” Castle admits, shifting uncomfortably in front of the other man, cradling the flowers a little closer to his chest.

“You wouldn’t,” Josh mutters, scraping a hand through his hair and glancing back towards the door that leads to Kate. “You know what? I give up at this point. I’m not the one she wants anyway.”

Castle’s heart seizes, his grip on the flowers tightening, crushing, but like hell is he going to ask Josh to elaborate. Apparently, though, he doesn’t have to.

“She’s calling for you. She can barely even speak, can’t stay awake long enough to form a coherent sentence, but she’s been calling for you since they took the tube out of her throat,” Josh growls under his breath. “Only wants you.”

Her boyfriend – ex boyfriend? – turns before Rick can even think to respond, stalking down the hallway with anger and defeat radiating from his form in intimidating waves.

Castle waits until the doctor is completely out of sight and at no risk of returning, until the hammer of his heart has calmed from the confusion of Josh’s words, before he finally eases open the door to Kate’s room. 

She’s asleep in her hospital bed when he approaches, her body thinner than he remembered, fragile and small beneath the sheets covering her frame. The skin he can see so pale and papery, her face contorted into a troubled expression. He assumes it has to do with the obvious pain that must course through her system, the discomfort of the IV in her arm and the accompanying wires that extend from varying spots, the foreign cacophony of sounds the ER provides to fill the air all around her, the beep of her heart monitor loud and blaring.

His new favorite noise.

But then he notices the movement of her lips, hears the barely audible mumble slipping from her mouth as he drifts deeper into the room. He places her flowers on the nearest bedside table, adding to the vibrant assortment already surrounding her, and draws closer to her side, close enough to hear the rasp of her voice, what she’s saying.


His breath catches in his throat, almost chokes him, but it’s the pained whimper that escapes her next, a sound he’s never heard before, that wrenches his heart and steals his attention.

“Kate,” he murmurs, touching tentative fingers to her cheek. Her skin is so cold, brittle; he strokes his thumb along the harsh bone of her cheek, hopes he can transfer an ounce of his warmth to her.

The deep crease that had claimed her brow slowly releases, the tug of her frown easing, allowing her features to find rest.

“Castle,” she mumbles again, his name like a mantra in her mouth – no wonder Josh had looked ready to kill him – and he knows it may not matter once she wakes, that she may not want him around as much as she apparently does while in slumber. But that was okay.

He’d wait until she does, if that’s what she wanted, if she remembers.

Castle bends to press his lips to her forehead, lingering there a second too long to inhale the scent of her beneath the overwhelming layers of hospital and trauma staining her skin. The aroma of cherries, vanilla, and Kate still clinging to the faded warmth of her skin beneath his lips.

“Right here, Kate,” he whispers before he pulls away, takes a seat in the lone chair at her bedside. “Not going anywhere until you tell me to.”

He hesitates before encasing her fingers in his hand, cradling her chilled digits within the cove of his palm, brushing his thumb along the gentle bumps of her knuckles. It’s mere seconds before he swears he can feel her fingers twitch within the embrace of his, in synchrony with the quirking corner of her mouth, the shift of her eyes beneath their lids.

She may not be conscious just yet, but she’s ceased in her calling for him, as if she knows he’s there, and he thinks it allows them both to find a temporary peace that they’ve been lacking since she’d bled out beneath him at Montgomery’s funeral, since they had both witnessed the man sacrifice himself in the hangar, since their fight in her apartment.

Castle sits back in his chair, but holds her hand just a little tighter.

anonymous asked:

Can I please request the rfa + saeran breaking the fourth wall and finding out their in a game? I get seven kinda did but it'd be interesting to see how all of them would react.

I feel like all of the charcaters would be extremely sad to find out that they could never meet MC, so I made this kind of angsty. I also added Seven even though he kind of does know it’s a game, I just love him too much not to add him! I hope that I answered this one okay, let me know if I didn’t!! ^^


  • The irony of finally getting a girlfriend only to have her for eleven days broke Yoosung’s heart
  • He regretted every single time he called you Rika
  • You were so kind to him, you didn’t treat him like a child, you were genuinely curious about his future
  • All he wanted to do was go to you, feel how warm you would be when he hugged you
  • But that day never came
  • After all, Yoosung was just a character in a game, never being allowed to see you
  • He cried so much, more than he ever has in his life
  • But Yoosung was determined to make the most out of his limited time with you via the messenger
  • When the eleventh day came, Yoosung wept uncontrollably as he called you one last time telling you that you were his sunshine and that you would always be on his mind and that he would always love you no matter what
  • But eventually, his sunshine was taken away from him


  • Zen never thought that such a perfect girl existed until he first called you and listened to your voice
  • After years of being alone, Zen finally found someone who cared about him, not just for his pretty looks but for his true self
  • He realized that he was just a character in a game, that he would never get to see you, touch you, or kiss you
  • Zen felt his world fall apart at the seams but he knew that he had to use his remaining days to give you nothing but all of his love
  • You were incredibly supportive of him when he broke his leg and even more when he had to deal with his scandal
  • Even though he was in a game, you felt so real to him making it hurt that more more when the eleventh day came
  • In his last phone call to you, Zen tried holding back his tears as he sang gently to you, saying that he finally found his princess just like out of a fairy tale
  • However, this fairy tale didn’t have a happy ending


  • For what felt like the first time in her life, Jaehee finally found someone she could call her true friend
  • She was just known as ‘the assistant’ to everyone else but you never saw her that way, you saw her for the strong, independent woman that she was
  • And when you encouraged her to keep up with the coffee project because it made her happy, Jaehee thought about all of the different types of coffee that she would make for you when she would meet you
  • But that day would never come, Jaehee was in a game but you weren’t
  • She tried not to let her feelings get the better of her, she had finally found a friend that understood and appreciated her
  • But as the days went on, Jaehee felt something more for you, you weren’t just a friend who she liked
  • No, Jaehee had fallen in love with you without even realizing it, making it that much more painful
  • Jaehee silently cried when she called you for the last time, telling you that she loved you so much, that she would never forget you, you then told Jaehee that she was your dream
  • And you were hers


  • Jumin didn’t understand that he loved you the moment he read your first message
  • He thought that it was silly, how could he mange to love someone he never met?
  • But he did fall in love with you, something he never thought that he was capable of
  • Everyone saw him as the man with no emotions, but you didn’t, you knew that he had all of the emoitions that everyone else had, he just didn’t know how to express them
  • You treated him like any other person and Jumin would be eternally grateful to you because of that
  • His feelings of love towards you were in vain, since Jumin was just a character who could never see you
  • Even with his wealth, being with you would be impossible and Jumin felt nothing but sadness because of it
  • Nevertheless, Jumin kept a cool and calm composure for those eleven days, even though he was hurting so much on the inside
  • Jumin’s last phone call to you was one of the rare occasions that he cried, he tried his best to convey all of his feelings towards you, with him promising that you changed him and he’s become a better person because of you
  • You asked him on last request, that you would always remain in his heart and his last words were simply stated
  • As you wish


  • He knew from the very beginning that you and him could never be anything more then names on a screen
  • Seven was simply a character in a game, nothing more nothing less
  • He tried his absolute hardest not to fall in love with you, but he stupidly did
  • It was going to be so painful, almost as painful as leaving his brother, when he would have to say goodbye to you
  • But Seven didn’t want you to be sad, so he stayed as 707, joking with you so that you would be happy
  • The phone calls with you were something that he would cherish for the rest of his life
  • For those eleven days, Seven let himself be selfish and feel happy whenever he chatted with or called you
  • He didn’t let his past haunt him, Seven only focused on making you laugh and feel loved
  • Seven barely got any sleep those eleven nights since all he could think about was how his happiness would fade away in the upcoming days
  • The last phone call Seven made to you, he became Saeyoung and while talking to you, he let himself cry tell you how you saved him from his own darkness and although he would never be able to marry you at the space station
  • He would always love you to the moon and back


  • The way that you made him feel when he watched you in the RFA chat room confused him
  • Saeran had only texted you once, some vague message and even though you asked him questions, he never bothered responding
  • But as Saeran watched you chat with the other members happily, it made his heart physically hurt
  • He didn’t understand, why you were making him feel this way
  • Saeran’s life had been the equivalent of hell and he never thought he would feel joy in his life
  • However, as he watched you through the messenger, Saeran realized that he felt happy, that he had somehow fallen in love with you
  • You were so kind to the other members, giving them advice and truly caring for them
  • None of it matter though, Saeran knew that he was just a character in a game and that meeting you would be impossible
  • Even though he knew the pain of when the eleventh day arrived would be immense, Saeran continued to watch you talk to the other members
  • He had less panic attacks and even cracked a genuine smile for the first time in a very long time when he watched you talk to the RFA members
  • As the eleventh day arrived, Saeran decided to call you and confess his feelings, he didn’t care since this would be the last time he would ever hear your voice, he poured his heart out to you about how much he loved you even though this was the first time that he ever talked to you and that you showed him what true happiness was
  • And even though you were going to leave Saeran
  • He promised to love you forever and always

~ Requests and Match-Ups are Open! ~ 

Nemesis Mine

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

Chapter 14. Baz.

I’m going to die in this fire.

The flames are all around me, making it hard for me to see anything but sparks and thick black smoke, and all I can think is that I’m going to die and Simon will still think I hate him.

I’m curled in on myself, resting my head on my knees, trying to breathe. Trying to stay conscious, though I know it won’t be for long.

I’m thinking about my mother, too, but not about avenging her – because after all, what use is revenge? It won’t bring her back. I’m thinking about what she’d think of me if she knew how I chose to spend all the time I got to be alive.

I bet she would have liked Simon.

I hear a scream, cutting through the crackling of the fire, and I realise that he’s still here. He’s flying through the flames towards me – why is he coming towards me? – and yelling my name. Baz. Not Basilton.

He lands next to me. I look up, and the ceiling is starting to collapse.

Everything is bright red and orange and it feels like my head is on fire.

I can hardly breathe.

‘Get out,’ I gasp.

‘My arm’s dead,’ he says, ‘and you clearly can’t move. I can’t get you out.’ He’s crying. He’s not wearing his mask, so he just looks like Simon with wings and a tail, and there are tears running down his cheeks.

There’s nothing left in my lungs except for smoke and I can’t believe he’s making me convince him to save himself with my last breaths.

‘You don’t need your arm to fly,’ I spit. ‘Fucking go.’

‘I can’t carry you,’ he chokes. ‘I can’t, Baz, I’m sorry.’

‘I know,’ I say. ‘Just go.’

But he doesn’t. He slides down to the floor next to me and shuffles closer until we’re side by side. He spreads out his wings and wraps them around me.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ I cough.

‘This might help, with the flames. I heard sirens, the fire trucks will be here soon, we might be okay…’

I would shove him off, but he was right; I can’t move. I’m too weak.



‘Why won’t you leave me?’

I’m crying too now. Simon Snow is going to die trying to protect me from this fire. Simon is going to die.

‘Because – because I – fuck, because it’s you, Baz, I couldn’t. I could never.’ He draws his wings more tightly over my head, trying to shield me from the smoke and the shimmering heat. ‘I know you’re supposed to be a villain, and I know you probably still want me dead, but you’re not a villain, you’re just a boy.’

‘I don’t want you dead,’ I sob. ‘I want you to go.’

‘I won’t,’ he whispers. He leans his forehead on my shoulder.

‘You and your stupid superhero complex,’ I mutter.

He laughs. He lifts up his head so his eyes are level with mine. They’re alive and dancing with firelight. ‘Goodbye, nemesis mine,’ he says. And then he presses his lips against mine.

It’s a soft kiss, and he’s pulling away before I have a chance to recollect myself. I close my eyes, and I use the last of my strength to grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him back to me.

This time there’s no uncertainty in the kiss. It’s messy, and desperate, and I can feel the heat of the flames even through his wings and I know that this is the end. I can taste his tears and feel him all around me trying to protect me and as dying moments go, this one’s better than I could have hoped for.

I give him everything I have.

We don’t pause for breath.

Until finally, the fire is too close, and the heat becomes too much, and I pass out.

Keep reading

The greatest trick the internet played on itself was thinking it was subversive and unruly. But your average 4Chan post has all the forged renegade edge of bathroom graffiti in Tom Morello’s studio mansion. Take the most popular symbol of online rebellion: the Guy Fawkes mask.

Quick tip to any revolutionaries out there: If a side effect of your anti-establishment movement is that Warner Brothers makes a cool $600,000 in merchandise sales … you might want to rethink your approach. Because that’s absolutely what happened in 2011 when over 100,000 of these masks were being sold annually.

And this is just the tip of the jagged and ironic iceberg. Remember that Trollface meme? The one that was originally created to make fun of trolls? Well the guy behind that actually copyrighted it – and has since made an equally cool $100,000 in licensing fees and settlements. For as they are inorganic, unoriginal, and attention-desperate, memes are also extremely corporate. And to further expose that irony-berg, the swell of legal interest has to do with how lawlessly they were first conceived. You see… it turns out that you can’t just use an image you don’t own without there being some kind of judicial consequence. Especially when it’s of a person. Star Wars Kid, Scumbag Stacy, Good Girl Gina – these have all resulted in takedown requests, lawsuits, and ruined lives. Not to mention all the memes that originated from TV and movies.

To recap: Memes were created by a “free” internet using stolen pictures, those images became the subject of copyright and harassment lawsuits, and as a result the meme world became more corporately owned and mainstream. This led to the final nail in the coffin – for where there is money and sweet youth blood, there are inevitably politicians

Memes You Probably Helped Spread Are Secretly Propaganda

Ari Beats the Gatekeepers Part 1 or.. Ari Knew She Was Right So She Went Around Those In Her Way

Unfortunately, due to the lack of clear guidelines and training in all levels of government regarding policy on transgender name and gender changes.. transgender people need to be prepared, they need to know more than ‘the supervisor,’ they need to be polite, but confident and assertive, and maybe someday, the gate-keeping will stop for all of us. Well, we can dream!

Today was a difficult day filled with aggravation and disappointment.. however, today was also a wonderful day topped off with a victory over red tape and a would be gatekeeper.

If you have been following my story long enough, you may remember I legally changed my name and updated my driver’s license and social security card information in May of 2016. Well, I was also in the midst of my divorce during that time. I wanted to apply for a passport since I never had one before. I filled out the paperwork over the summer and set it aside. I wanted to be able to apply with the divorce date filled in so the records were accurate. I decided, “no rush, I can wait until my divorce is final.” I did not anticipate it taking 11 months for my divorce to be final. It was not contentious.. my ex and I handled ourselves in the best manner possible in my opinion. Still, due to all of the built-in delays (30 days to respond here, 30 days to respond there) and some rather inept lawyer-ing from her representation.. it took 11 months! 

Guess when it was finally final? The irony.. it was Inauguration Day! That’s right, I waited to send out my passport application due to that one little box not being able to show that I was legally divorced and in doing so, I am one of the transgender people now holding my breath to see if I sent it in time. In time for what, you ask? In time to be treated like a human being rather than be treated like a criminal by the wretched hive of scum and villainy that is now the white house.

Anyhow, one of my loved ones had to be admitted to the hospital on the 19th, just one day before my divorce was final.. this threw a new wrinkle in things as I took the needed time to care for my loved one. She had to be top priority. My passport application waited another two weeks for me. (My loved one is due to be released tomorrow - yay!!!)

Finally, yesterday I went into my local post office which is also an acceptance facility for passport applications. I asked the woman working the passport desk to take a new photo for me because the Walgreens employee made me look like a grandma in my first attempt at getting an acceptable picture. This woman had kind eyes and she was also very knowledgeable and patient. She went through all of the paperwork I brought… my physician’s statement, my legal name change court order, my photocopy of my id.. then she paused.. 

“Is this the only birth certificate you have?” she asked. I said, “Yes, Why??” (as my heart began to sink)

“I’m sorry, but you need the long form and this is the short form. They will reject it immediately if your parent’s names are not on the copy.”

My heart sank as she told me I could get a copy the same day if I went to one of the Cook County Vital Records locations. I thanked her and decided I would just take the next day off (Friday) and take care of it. I double-checked the website when I got home and confirmed that the nice woman at the post office was correct. She had not given me bad information. I just missed that detail in my research. 

I started Friday morning at the dentist getting my newly prepared crown put in place of the temporary crown I got 3 weeks ago. Once that was complete, I was off to the Vital Statistics room of the Bridgeview Illinois Court House. Of course this involves going through a TSA like security (only not as invasive). They had the lines split for men and women. I of course went through the women’s line. They were nice enough and there were no issues. I found the right room, took a number and waited. I got called up to a station and told the woman that I needed a long form birth certificate. I showed her the short form one that I had (with my original birth name), my court order for my name change, and my current license. She started punching things into the computer then went to get a supervisor. Of course, I could already tell this was not going smoothly, but I hoped the supervisor knew the drill and knew that everything I brought was more than sufficient to prove who I was. NOPE! She told me that there was no way they could issue me MY birth certificate since my driver’s license now stated a different name. She said that I could be anybody. I had given her a stamped and sealed COURT ORDER for the name change and she told me she could not help me. 

I was so dumbfounded by the inept logic that I did not have the words to argue as she handed me a form to fill out and ship to Springfield Illinois so that I could have my birth certificate updated (a process that takes 4 to 6 weeks) BEFORE they could help me. Of course, as you can tell from the title of this post, I knew this supervisor was wrong. I decided then and there that I would visit each of the 5 other Cook County locations that day until I found a supervisor that knew the actual guidelines. Of course, because of the extended conversation about my gender and my name change with many people behind me waiting for their turn.. I had about 12 pairs of eyes looking quizzically at me when I turned around to leave. That’s okay though, because I smiled at them all, knowing I was right and that this was not a true road block. I imagine I had a rather determined look on my face..

It turns out, I only had to visit one more location! That’s right, after another twenty minutes of driving, the helpful people at the nearby Markham, IL location sorted me out in a matter of minutes (well, after I waited in line for about 25 minutes). The clerk did ask for a supervisor, but she returned just to tell me that I should make sure to also send the right form to Springfield, IL so that my birth certificate would match my ID in the future. I promised her that I would. I paid for two copies of my birth certificate and thanked the woman.

I glided out of there, feeling like I had just won a major victory. I knew I had enough time to get to the post office and still get my passport application out that very same day. I drove straight there (an hour drive back by that point). It was the same woman who had to turn me away the day before. I said cheerfully, “Hello again! I have the correct long form birth certificate, although I had to go to two different locations to get it!” I explained what had happened to her and she basically shook her head and lamented that it was sad I had to go through all that. She carefully went through all of my documents and told me that everything looked good and that I was all set. I paid for expedited processing and my passport application is now on an airplane.

I went home, filled out the form I was given to change my birth certificate and went back to the post office to get that sent out along with another physician’s letter and legal name change court order. This should not impact my passport application, because with expedited processing it should be finished by the time they get to my birth certificate change in Springfield (a slower process by all accounts). If my passport gets rejected because the birth certificate I sent has my old name and the system gets updated and shows my birth certificate has changed.. then resubmitting will be fine and less complicated because my birth certificate will show the correct gender and they will have no reason to question it or to deny it. What a tangled web.

By this point it was late in the afternoon and I was elated to have all of that done, but I also had several stress knots in my neck. I looked across the street and saw one of the salons that I frequent. I decided to get a blow out (they also give you complimentary neck and shoulder massages). The girl doing my hair did a great job and had some suggestions for a cut as well. I plan to go back on Wednesday for a cut, but went with just the blowout for today.

The point of writing all of this out is that I hope it is helpful for anyone else dealing with this. Even if you have only one county court house you can visit, perhaps going on a different day and getting a different clerk will get you different results. It is unfortunately a toss of the dice every time we as transgender people have to deal with changes to identification documents.
Be in the know, do your research, know more than the supervisors, be prepared to politely but assertively stand up for what you know to be the correct process. You could also even suggest that they call another location to ask how they handle it if they are unsure. 

I titled this post with “part 1,” because I am fully aware, that there is a strong chance that either my passport application or birth certificate update request will be denied. As long as one of them comes back as expected, then I know the next attempt should be the last to get this all finalized. Of course, Mr. Drumpf could sign an executive order on Monday that calls all of this into question and both of my requests could be halted. If that happens I will immediately contact the lawyer who represented me for my divorce (she is also a transgender woman) and together we will take on the U.S. Government if we have to. 

I will keep standing up for myself and keep going to any lengths to make sure I am not denied. You should do the same 😉


My goal in sharing my transition is to represent transgender people in the positive light that we all deserve. Re-blogs are always okay if they are for this purpose, but if you are a fetish blog or fetish website then I want nothing to do with you and you do not have my permission to use my images.

anonymous asked:

Could you write a short Harry story where it's you're 21st birthday in Vegas and you meet Harry at a club then end up at his hotel room? I had a dream like this and I wanna read about it over and over again xo

this is a little different and i’m sorry this is so late but i suddenly got inspired to write again so !!

“to finally being able to legally drink!”

you laugh as you lift up your glass and toast with all of your friends. drowning back the expensive champagne that your best friend had bought for this special occasion, you can’t help but let a tear slip down your cheek.

“happy tears, right?” your best friend tries to keep up your happy facade in front of the rest of the guests, and they all buy it, but you secretly know better. to say the least, this year was the hardest year of your life.

harry had left you.

on perfectly understandable circumstances, of course, but that doesn’t mean it hurt less.

“we can’t be together if we’re on opposite ends of the world,” he had whispered into your ear as you cried into his shoulder. “but i love you, kitten. i’ll always love you. and maybe one day, we’ll meet again.”

“oh yeah? what if you’re with somebody else?”

he pulls away slightly so he can look into your eyes–so you could see the severity of his promise. “it’s always going to be you. my heart is always going to belong to you. no matter who i’m with.”

and for the last year, you’ve been tucked away in boston, studying criminal law and trying not to search up his name on your computer every chance you got.

but now you were in los angeles, because your best friend had insisted you to drive down to party in the party state. so you did. and surprisingly, not once on the way down did you think you’d see him.

he was off in france, the last time you heard, filming a movie. so bumping into him in one of the roughest bars in downtown LA was just as likely as you becoming a surgeon (and with these clammy hands and fear of blood? that wasn’t gonna happen in three lifetimes). 

but as you sip the last remains of your drink, you see him.

you see him looking at you, through the midst of people–through the fog of cigarette smoke, there he was.

harry styles.

looking at you.

at first you’re certain you’ve finally gone crazy. you even pinch yourself a couple of times to make sure you’re not dreaming. and you see him smile when he spots you squeezing the skin of your arms.

hi, he mouths, like you two have never met.

like you didn’t think about him every single day.

your friends didn’t notice your sudden silence, blaming it all on your shallow alcohol tolerance, so they didn’t question you when you said you wanted to be excused to the bathroom.

meeting harry’s eyes again across the room, you watch him excuse himself from his friends and you’re halfway up the stairs when you see him following you. and it’s not until you have your arms around his neck in the small bathroom space that you knew for certain he was real.

Originally posted by irinagudronchik

“i missed you,” you blurt out in a whisper, tears stinging the sides of your cheeks. “how are you here?”

“your best friend texted me and told me that she would kick me in the bullocks if i dared to show up here,” he chuckles under his breath and wipes a stray tear away from your face. then he wraps his arms around your waist and holds you to him tightly. “but i couldn’t resist. i had to see you. even if it was from a distance.”

“how’ve you been?” you both ask at the same time. you giggle but you can’t stop crying and then you realize he’s crying as well and you both fall into each other’s arms like a bag of limbs.

harry rests his head in the crook of your neck and whispers, “come on, let’s get out of here. my hotel room is right upstairs.”

“my friends…” you trail off, not bothering to finish that thought because they surely would understand. this was harry after all, and you would give up anything to spent a second with him.

even if that meant everything you had.

harry wasn’t kidding when he said his hotel room was right upstairs, because it took only a few minutes for your back to hit his perfectly made sheets and for him to pull the curtains open–letting the night sky stream in as he turned the lights off.

thinking back now, one might think that sex would be coming next. which is a reasonable guess, since you both hadn’t seen each other for a year and here he was standing in front of you looking more gorgeous than ever…but one must realize that there was a thin layer of something very pure between you both.

and sex would surely break it.

“do you still love me?” you ask softly as he lies down next to you, suit crumbling underneath him. 

you turn your body towards him and run your hands through his short hair as he whispers, “of course. i don’t think it’s possible for me to stop loving you.”

“i like your hair,” you say, because there was nothing else you needed to know. you’re scared that you’ll never stop crying. “it looks really good on you.”

“i like your hair too,” he licks his lips as his fingertips rub the tips of your newly-cut hair. “we should’ve gone to the same barber,” he jokes and you smile. he hesitates, before asking, “are you….are you seeing anyone?”

you don’t know what to say but the truth. “yes,” you confess. “he’sare you?” and from the moment that question leaves your lips, you know the answer. he looks down from your eyes for a moment, unsure of what to say, so you tell him, “i’m happy for you. you deserve…happiness.”

“she’s not you,” he blurts out. his hands slowly inch down to cradle your cheeks in his palms. “you know it’s always you.”

“and you know it’s always you,” you pull him closer and breathe in his familiar scent. “tell me she makes you happy.”

harry smiles a little sadly, “yeah, she does.”

and you’re surprised because you genuinely feel happy for him. not one ounce of selfishness possesses you. okay maybe one ounce. “does she tell the best jokes?” you ask as your lips gently graze his jaw and you hear him suck in a breath.

his dimples are evident as he grins, “you know you tell the best jokes.” unable to resist it any longer, you kiss him. it’s slow and tender and full of passion, as if all the words you’ve been aching to tell him over the course of a year are finally being said all at once.

he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. “i’m sorry i broke us,” he apologises and you shake your head because you refuse to believe that he can be capable of anything but happiness. “i hope he didn’t mind picking up your shards.” you laugh and a tear escapes his eye when he sees your laughter lines. “tell me he makes you laugh. i know how much you love to laugh.”

“he likes my sense of humour,” you say, “and he likes the way i get passionate when i present a case in class–he’s a budding lawyer too, just like me.”

“i’m glad,” harry whispers, tracing circles into your skin. “i’m so glad you’re happy.”

“you don’t know how happy i am for you. but no matter what, if this is the last time we’ll see each other–” both of your hearts skip at this “–i want you to remember that i’ll always be here for you.”

harry’s tears are staining the sheets below. “and i want you to remember how much i love you.”

you smile. “promise me this: in a couple of years when i graduate and you’re at the peak of your career again…”

“we’ll get together,” he promises. “we’ll meet in a coffee shop, or a bar like just now, or a park, or a concert, wherever…”

“and we’ll be together,” you conclude. “forever.”

he vows, “the next time we see each other, we’ll be together forever. and that’ll be it.”

“close your eyes,” you tell him, and you do too. “i like to think that when i open them again, you’ll be mine for good. and i’ll be yours unconditionally.”

both of you hold each other like the pieces of a ying yang. perfectly, naturally, rightfully.

“happy birthday,” he murmurs.

“you’re right,” you smile. “I almost forgot.”

you can’t help but realize how perfect you two look right now: him in a suit and you in a white dress.

the irony of it all makes you hold him tighter.

ahahaha lmao this is such crap but oh well

Love Bites (part 3)

Words: 1.7k

Summary: You and Cas finally discuss your past (and future?)

Warnings: Lots of drama, discussion/confession of cheating (nothing descriptive,) and some feels.

A/N: Sorry this is so short. I’m finally using my phrase for @casbabydontgoineedyou 1k celebration. “You can’t force someone to love you.” The plan is for one more chapter after this one. If you’d like to be added to my master tag list, send me an ask or DM.


You followed Cas to his house, aptly located on the rich side of town. The entire ride you wondered why you were going; but always came to the conclusion that he, at the very least, deserved a chance to explain himself. He had been your best friend for the first half of your life, after all.

Keep reading

gravitys-child  asked:

Hi (again)! What is with you and dragging people onto your popsicle-stick sailboats? Because suddenly I'm finding myself cut into pieces and boating in several of them. Also, you are a horrible enabler, and I'm knee-deep in Fugaku/Hiashi/Hizashi angst hell. Thanks a lot. God, I love you and your works. Feel free to throw me a rope, though. I could use a lift out.

xD I can’t help with the Hiashi/Fugaku/Hizashi, because twincest is absolutely not my thing, but…

Fugaku’s head hasn’t hurt this badly since Minato’s bachelor party.

(It’s possible that thought should be warning enough, given how Fugaku woke up the morning after that disaster, but hangovers aren’t exactly conducive to logical thought.)

He remembers—if vaguely—heading for the bar after Mikoto finished her explanation of why second chances and resurrected lost loves meant that she was ending their amicable, if less than blissful, marriage. Not that Fugaku is overly upset—marrying your best friend from childhood is lovely in theory, but results in rather too much sexual frustration when one feels a greater attraction to other men than one’s wife—but the mere thought of the Clan Elders’ collective reaction is more than enough to drive even the hardiest man to drink.

Fugaku would be the first to admit that while he is a hardy man, he’s not that hardy, and his wife leaving him for another woman is aggravating, if only conceptually.

(Of course, as Mikoto pointed out with all the mercilessness one would expect from a former ANBU captain, if Minato had reappeared, unattached and open to a relationship, it would have been Fugaku doing the dumping the instant he got Mikoto alone.)

Still. Being abandoned doesn’t sit easily, even if intellectually Fugaku is quite aware that Mikoto isn’t actually going anywhere. He’d beaten a swift retreat to the nearest jounin bar and settled in to drink his way through a good portion of their stock. And then…

And then what?

He pries his eyes open with an effort, squinting against the slanting light of an unfamiliar room. His sense of direction says those windows are west-facing, which means it’s headed towards afternoon. Gods, but how much did he manage to drink last night? And…this is most certainly not his bedroom, so—

The dark head resting on his arm groans, shifting slightly, and Fugaku winces at the pins-and-needles sensation of blood rushing back into his limb. Then, belatedly, he realizes what a companion in bed means, and that hair is slightly browner than Mikoto’s ink-black, if almost as long. It’s not Mikoto, because the body is larger, a man’s muscular build rather than his former wife’s sleeker one, and he can feel a hint of stubble against his skin.

Fugaku takes a careful breath, steeling himself, and reaches out to carefully brush some of that dark hair back. At the same moment, his unexpected partner rolls over, and pale, nearly-white eyes flutter open.

Hyuuga Hiashi, Fugaku thinks, and it’s possible there’s a note of hysteria to it. Oh gods.

Hiashi stares at him for a long moment, clearly just as startled as Fugaku, and then shifts enough to get an elbow beneath himself and push up a little.

“…Uchiha,” he allows after a second. “It appears we had rather too much to drink last night.”

“Not enough,” Fugaku mutters, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes until starbursts bloom behind his eyelids. Hells, but Mikoto is never going to let this go. Not because they’re technically still married—she made it clear that would only last until the correct papers could be signed—but because she’s the only living soul to know about the massive, belligerent crush he’d had on the Hyuuga heir as a genin.

Of course, Fugaku is an Uchiha, and therefore anyone outside the clan would probably find his actions more closely resembling infinite loathing than a crush, which Fugaku was absolutely fine with both then and now.

Things are coming back in bits and pieces now. The bar, Hiashi drinking with his old team in the corner, and then drinks together when the night wore on, and then—

Well. Given that he and Hiashi are both naked, Fugaku can guess.

“Oh, hells,” Hiashi says suddenly, and flops back down onto his back on the pillows, draping an arm over his eyes. “Tsume saw us leave together. Tsume knows.”

For a moment Fugaku can’t think how that’s relevant. Then, as a thought occurs to him, he chokes, twitching away from Hiashi. “You—you and Inuzuka?”

Hiashi’s pale eyes go wide, and he blanches. “What? No! Of course not, we’re just friends! And beyond that, I think Shibi would gut me.”

Fugaku makes a face, both at calling the Inuzuka woman a friend and the idea of her and Aburame. There are lots of things Fugaku has never needed or wanted to know about his Academy classmates, and who they go to bed with is a very large percentage.

Hiashi must see, because he snorts softly. “Loosen up, Uchiha. Just because they don’t confirm to your standards as Clan Heads doesn’t make it wrong.”

“You do realize the irony of you telling me to loosen up,” Fugaku retorts, but despite himself his eyes are drawn to Hiashi’s bared chest. Before the mission to retrieve Killer Bee, Fugaku hadn’t seen him in anything but his voluminous robes in years. He’s leaner than they make him look, broad across the shoulders and still sporting the musculature of an active shinobi.

There’s a dark bite already purpling on the line of his long neck, and Fugaku can’t quite tear his eyes away from it.

Not seeming to notice his straying attention, Hiashi makes a sound of quiet amusement and stretches, and Fugaku’s mouth goes truly dry at the sight. “I realize it, yes, but I’ve recently come to the understanding that the world will not crumble if I allow myself to live.”

They certainly lived last night, if Fugaku’s patchy memories are to be believed. He has a flash of Hiashi on his stomach with Fugaku on top of him, reaching back desperately to grasp at Fugaku’s hip as he tried to form more than fractured words, and—

Fugaku swallows hard, and manages to keep his voice steady enough to ask, “Inuzuka wisdom?”

Hiashi drops his arm, and the smile he’s wearing is faintly bittersweet, but there’s a pained sort of peace in his eyes as he meets Fugaku’s gaze. “Hizashi’s,” he corrects, and it’s somewhere between sad and fond. “Though I think we both forgot somewhere along the way.”

Fugaku knows very well what that’s like, and he sighs before he can help it, reaching up to rub his forehead. He and Mikoto used to talk about love, even though they knew they’d never feel anything beyond platonic love for each other, and Fugaku can remember telling her to take the chance if she ever found it again. The Uchiha don’t love easily, but when they do, it’s a powerful thing, and well worth upsetting the Elders over.

With that in mind, Fugaku doesn’t try to hide the way his eyes sweep down over Hiashi’s body, right to the edge of the slipping sheet. When he glances back up, the old sadness has faded, and Hiashi is watching him with a heated sort of amusement. “Really, Uchiha?” he asks, though he makes no move to resist when Fugaku leans over him. “I didn’t think one-night stands were supposed to indulge in morning sex.”

“What happened to loosening up?” Fugaku complains, even as he slides his fingers into Hiashi’s long hair and angles his head for a deep, lazy kiss.

As they break apart, Hiashi laughs, and it’s breathless enough to make Fugaku’s want just that much deeper. “I can’t have you think I’m easy, Uchiha,” he retorts.

Fugaku snorts, sliding fully on top of the other man. One of Hiashi’s arms loops around his lower back, and a leg drapes lazily over his, sliding them together in very interesting ways. “Then you shouldn’t have let me pick you up in a bar in the first place, Hyuuga.”

One elegant brow arches, only for the expression to be lost the moment Fugaku’s hands find their way under the sheet. Hiashi’s head falls back, breath catching in his throat, but an instant later the leg hooked over Fugaku’s tightens, and in a blur Hiashi flips them over, coming out of the roll sitting astride Fugaku’s hips. He’s smirking, and Fugaku is recalling exactly how it feels to want to punch someone and kiss them at the same time.

“I think you’re forgetting exactly who did the picking up last night, Uchiha,” he says archly. “Really, the way you were throwing yourself at me, you’re lucky I didn’t—”

Fugaku flips them again, and feels no remorse for shoving Hiashi’s face into the pillow.

For Me To Know, And For You To Find Out

Request: “Ok here’s my supernatural request! (So glad you’re taking cos I love your Star Wars writing!) so reader hunts with Sam and dean and they find out that she’s sleeping w both of them as well as cas while they’re on a hunt without reader, then they come home kina angry only to find her in bed with Lucifer? Nothing too angsty and some references to smut and reader sexts Sam and that’s how they find out?”

Pairing(s): Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader, Castiel x Reader, Lucifer x Reader

Word Count: 1216 (sorry it’s short - this is my first ever spn fic!!)

Warnings: implied smut, mentions of smut

The sound of the final head falling to the ground marked the end of the hunt, Dean leaning over with his hands on his knees, panting from the exerting fight.

“That’s the last one?” Sam asked breathlessly. His brother nodded.

“Let’s get back to the motel, Cas is probably there by now.” Dean added, wiping his bloody blade on the shirt of his fallen foe. He looked up to see Sam smiling at his phone. “Hey! Did you hear what I just said?”

“Hm? Yeah.” Sam lifted his gaze for a split second, then diverted his attention once again to the screen. Dean, with an annoyed huff, snatched the device from Sam, and despite his objections he started reading the messages on the screen.

SAM: just finished the hunt. Will be back ASAP.

(Y/N): good :)

He rolled his eyes at the boring conversation, but as he scrolled down, avoiding Sam’s reaching hands, his eyes widened at the sight of a picture you had sent.

It was a photo of you in a familiar set of white lace lingerie. You looked absolutely divine, and for a moment Dean’s anger dissipated into a brief wave of arousal, before he shook himself out of his daze. The following message made his blood boil.

(Y/N): get back here quick. I’m touching myself just thinking about the things you’ll do to me tonight.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Do you consider Septa Mordane a good tutor? It is a huge (and sad) irony, that she was such a huge "fan" of the royal family and then she was killed by them.

I think Septa Mordane gave entirely adequate instruction in the Faith and “womanly arts” to Sansa, as much instruction as she was expected to give a young lady of Sansa’s station.

She was not up to chaperoning, as we see in Sansa II, AGoT, where she got drunk at the feast at the tourney of the Hand. End result, Sansa was unsupervised, first with her fiance (who had already tried to get her alone and get her drunk) and then with another man entirely. That’d be a sacking offence in my book.

Septa Mordane was also a terrible tutor for Arya. Directly comparing her to Sansa, comments like “Arya has the hands of a blacksmith” that give Arya the impression that her lack of progress in this area is something inherent to her and not a skill that can be practiced to a greater degree of proficiency…yeah. No. Really bad teaching. Cruel to Arya.

Septa Mordane taught her cooperative student what she was expected to teach her, failed at her duties outside straight instruction, and had no strategies in place to help her less cooperative student and fell back on outright insulting her. That doesn’t look like a good tutor to me.

verycollectorperfectionfan  asked:

why do you make judy reject nick huh? clearly it shows that nick have a thing for her, but judy having for nick? each time he tries to woo around her but she rejects him coldly! i say it´s half of wildehopps and i´m not liking it not a bit, i´m sorry to say this to you but is true, please be honest with me does she likes him in return? cuz seeing nick sometimes heartbrokended like that sketch you made yesterday, how cold judy was when nick was trying to tell her how much he feels for her! pains!

The fact that you ask me such a thing makes me smile, especially after everything I’ve drawn themed wildehopps during last year. however, I decided to answer you seriously.

I draw for passion and I realize that I cannot please everyone but, first of all I have to settle myself, otherwise I would reduce to do simple fan service without a soul. I personally love the romance but I also love the irony, and when the two come together I reach the utmost satisfaction.

I think that when a creator of a thing can trigger the mechanism in the reader / viewer’s brain that allows him/her to imagine a story, a sequel, a consequence…well the creator win.

Why is Nick the star of these mishaps? It is simple: it’s more interesting. I often see Judy illustrated as the most “weak” of the two, a kind of object to please Nick. Well she isn’t this, in my opinion. She has a strong personality, she displaces Nick with her authenticity and in my comics they play on equal terms. No doubts, about it.

Originally posted by green-eyed-heroine