don't say this out loud when your parents are in the room

anonymous asked:

could you do 52 "i don't think he loves me anymore" with some angst? + andreil

Dan gets home late from her coaching gig on Tuesday night, and they eat thai takeaway over styrofoam containers and cheap wine.

The TV’s the only light in the room, and it’s almost like the flicker of a fireplace, if they don’t look at it directly. Dan’s laughing and smooching stray noodle off of Matt’s cheek when there’s a knock on the door.

They make faces at each other. “It’s 10 pm,” Dan says. “This had better be life or death.”

Matt groans. “Don’t tempt fate.” He struggles out of the couch and passes his ginger beef off to Dan. “5 bucks says it’s Allison back from Guadala-whatever. Timezones mean nothing to her.”

“Bet denied. You know gambling isn’t the same when we have a joint bank account,” Dan complains and Matt laughs, dodging their side table and heading for the front door. He busily cracks open all of their locks and rattles the door until it unsticks.

“Hey!” he says, surprised. Neil’s scuffing their doormat with the toe of his shoe, dressed in old PSU colours. “A house call from Neil Josten, what an honour,” he jokes. Half-jokes. A visit from Neil is a confession that he missed you enough to actually do something about it.

Neil looks up at him blankly, and something is so obviously wrong that it shakes Matt. He takes silent note of the bag slung over his shoulder, the mottled redness of his eyes and face.

“Allison?” Dan calls, and Matt shakes his head without thinking.

“Neil,” he replies softly.

“Get out of town,” Dan says, voice getting louder as she floats towards them. She appears at Matt’s shoulder and grins. “Well if it isn’t our favourite competition.”

Neil usually says something obnoxious about Matt’s team not even counting as competition, but this time his mouth stays thin and snapped shut. Matt and Dan exchange a loaded glance.

“I need to ask you a favour,” Neil says finally.

“Anything,” Matt says.

“I need to stay somewhere,” Neil says, and Matt watches him gather himself like he’s finding his balance on a slick of ice.

“Where’s Andrew,” Dan says slowly. Neil looks at her, and then at Matt. He hasn’t seemed quite this small since he first showed up at the foxhole court with all his lies clenched between his teeth.

“I can find somewhere else,” Neil says, already turning to go. Matt catches him by the strap of his duffel.

“Oh no you don’t. We’ve got a couch with your name on it.”

“If Matt hasn’t destroyed it with peanut sauce,” Dan chirps. Neil looks back and forth between them again, his face in knots. Matt bodily pulls him over the threshold.

“You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to. We get how it is.” He looks over at Dan and she’s already nodding.

“Thanks,” Neil says, and he drops his bag heavily just inside the door. He eyes the TV. “What were you watching?”

“Not exy,” Dan replies. “You might have heard of it.” She flops back onto her side of the couch and tucks her feet under herself. Matt settles down opposite and watches Neil perch on the armchair like it’s made of something sharp.

“We can change it?”

Neil shakes his head, and his eyes drop. Matt feels metaphorical eggshells crunching under his heels. It’s never been this uneasy with Neil, even when they first met.

Neil picks at his armbands until he seems to realize what he’s doing, and he reaches under the sleeves of his hoodie to peel them off altogether. Dan shoots Matt a frantic look.

“Not to pry,” Dan starts, “but do you need us to call anyone?”

He looks up. “Like who?”

“Like…” she looks at Matt. “Your coach? Nicky, maybe? Kevin?”

“How would they help me?” Neil says flatly.

“Man, your Andrew impression is killer,” Matt grits, nerves pricking with frustration. Neil’s expression goes tight, distorted like canvas stretched to fit an oversized frame.

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freezing-and-crimson  asked:

This is kinda rude and pathetic to ask. But your writing always cheers me up and I've been so deep in depression that it's not even funny. But could you write a small drabble about Kakashi x Orochimaru taking care of and raising Mitsuki and Log??? If you don't want to then that's fine ^^ don't feel like you have to write something.

💕

It’s a little startling, just how often Kakashi sees his father’s smile echoed so clearly in Mitsuki’s cheerful grins.

Seeing it always gives the same reaction; his breath catches in his throat, his eyes widen, his heart stutters. It’s not pain, the way it might have been before Pein’s invasion. It’s not the aching, crushing grief he carried for so many years. This is closer to joy, light and effervescent and full, and Kakashi smiles back, even though Mitsuki is thoroughly occupied with Boruto right now.

“You know, one could say that it’s your smile as well,” Orochimaru say, amused, as he comes to lean against the balcony railing. Kakashi almost wants to accuse him of reading his mind, but—well. He mentioned it once, helpless in the face of that small connection that shouldn’t be, and Orochimaru’s memory is hardly lacking.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he denies, mostly just to be contrary.

Orochimaru’s expression shades towards polite disbelief, but he doesn’t call Kakashi on it. “You have good DNA,” he says instead, gaze flickering back to their son.

Kakashi rolls his eyes, just a little, because coming from the Sannin that’s absolutely a compliment, but it would probably send anyone else screaming for the hills. Sometimes Kakashi wonders why he doesn’t do the same, except for the fact that he’s always been a little light on self-preservation.

Besides, two pieces of his DNA are currently wandering around the Hokage Mansion. Kakashi might not cop to much, but that’s…pretty incredible.

“Rogu?” he asks, because he knows from experience that it’s never a good idea to let his older son stay out of sight too long.

Orochimaru’s amusement says that he sees right through Kakashi’s casual question, and also remembers that time with Gai, the melons, and the exploding tags just as clearly as Kakashi does, if likely for different reasons.

(Kakashi is scarred, all right? There was definite mental trauma happening that day, even if Tsunade laughed him out of her office when he told her that.)

“Occupying himself,” Orochimaru says breezily, as if that’s any sort of comfort at all. He turns precisely, already stepping back towards their bedroom, and adds, “I’m going to R&D if you—”

“I don’t think so.” Maybe Genma is right about mild insanity and suicidal bravery being the prerequisite for becoming a jounin—not that he has any room to talk, the jerk—but Kakashi grabs him around the waist, dodges the knife-hand blow that would have crushed the windpipe of anyone slower, and steers him back towards the freshly-made bed. “You’re not leaving me here alone with four children.”

The amusement on Orochimaru’s face is well-hidden behind a veil of black hair and his half-hearted struggles. “Kakashi, Sarada and Boruto are perfectly polite children—”

“One is Sasuke and Naruto’s child, and the other is Sakura’s,” Kakashi says firmly. “And Mitsuki is terrifying.”

Conspicuously, Orochimaru doesn’t argue this point. “I just made the bed,” he complains instead, and when Kakashi pauses to eye him disbelievingly, there’s a quicksilver flash of a smirk before a foot is sweeping his legs out from under him.

Kakashi is the Hokage and has been a shinobi for over thirty years now; he’s not about to be taken down by a trick like that, so when he falls he grabs Orochimaru and drags him down onto the mattress with him. There’s a brief but fierce struggle to pin each other—Kakashi mostly wins due to extra body mass and feels no shame in admitting it—and when it ends, Orochimaru is watching Kakashi with narrowed eyes and the shadow of a smirk on his lips.

They’re very pretty lips, Kakashi thinks, gaze flickering to them, and can see the exact moment Orochimaru catches it. His eyes darken, features sliding towards smugly amused, and—

Well. Kakashi had never though he’d end up here, that morning when Konoha’s most famous semi-pardoned missing-nin marched into his office with two small children in tow and an aggravated Suigetsu mislabeled my DNA samples so these are yours, Hatake in explanation. Hadn’t even vaguely considered it, but…he’s come to the conclusion that he doesn’t really mind.

Mitsuki’s laugh, loud and bright from outside the window, sounds just like his father’s as well.

Carefully, he tugs his mask off, leaning down to kiss Orochimaru slowly and thoroughly. There’s a satisfied hum as clever fingers curl around the back of his neck, and it’s lazy and languid and full of banked heat.

There’s a sudden groan from the hallway outside their bedroom, followed by an annoyed, “Don’t you know how doors work? I don’t want to see that,” and then hurried steps as Rogu retreats with speed.

Kakashi can’t help but think of that morning, when Sasuke came to drop of Boruto and caught them kissing in the kitchen. Usually Kakashi has to work a lot harder to inflict that level of trauma on his cute former students, so he’s calling this a good day.

Still. Rogu moving with any sort of alacrity outside of an actual fight, even in the face of parental PDA, is usually a bad sign. Kakashi looks down at Orochimaru, who arches a brow right back, and has to sit back with a resigned sigh.

Somewhere in the distance, something explodes. Equal odds as to whether it’s Rogu’s fault or the Terrible Threesome’s.

“I feel like we should ignore that,” Kakashi says lightly.

Orochimaru’s smirk is knowing. “Is the Rokudaime Hokage really afraid of the mischief of children?” he asks, as if that’s a fair question at all.

“My children,” Kakashi reminds him, ducking down for one more quick kiss. “Your children.”

With a hum, Orochimaru concedes the point. “In my defense, I thought I was using the Nidaime’s DNA.”

Like that would have been better. Kakashi lets one raised brow speak for him.

Chuckling, Orochimaru slides out from underneath him, as unexpected but lithe as a snake, and rises to his feet. “I’m required at R&D,” he informs Kakashi, flashing him a sly smile. “Have fun with the children, my dear.”

Kakashi groans and feels entirely justified flopping face-first into the pillows.

Long fingers stroke through his hair, but Orochimaru darts away when Kakashi tries to grab him again. Footsteps—deliberate, Kakashi knows, since the smug bastard can’t be bothered to make noise when walking at any other time—retreat out the door, and Kakashi sighs, smelling smoke.

This is definitely payback for what he inflicted on his father in childhood, he thinks wryly, levering himself up. There’s no doubt at all.

He grabs the spray bottle sitting on the bedside table, straightens his clothes, and heads out to hunt down his children.

He wasn’t ok.

College was hard, harder than he’d expected, and he wasn’t ok.

Nursey had barely slept last night, thinking about college and exams and how he was going to fail and he might as well drop out and move home because he was going to end up back there anyway and disappointing his parents and his team. 

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#173 - For anonymous x5

Filling a bunch of baby/child themed requests. We have: Van helping Reader through labour (“with all the gross ins and outs”), Van being a very attentive and hands on father (e.g. will get up in the night even if it’s not his turn) and doesn’t need to have the kid all to himself (“some fathers want to have private special moments with the baby, but Van doesn’t… Like, he wants you to be in every moment, building every memory”), Van feeling bad about leaving for tour, Van coming home and his kid has grown up a bit and doesn’t really recognise him, and everyone swooning over Van and Reader’s toddler.


There were many things about giving birth that nobody spoke about. Mostly, those things related to body fluid. People could talk and talk and talk about the miracle of bringing a perfect little human being into the world, they could spend hours going through the ins and outs of the exhaustion and subsequent joy, but… the blood. The unidentifiable yellowy goop. White sticky stuff. All unsaid. So, despite reading about it in books and online, it was all still very overwhelming to be drained of any and all liquid your body could produce. Even your nose poured with snot. In the moment, you couldn’t work out if you were crying because of that, or because you were tired, or because of the pain, or because of everything else ever.

Van wiped the sweat and snot away, and when the contractions reached their painful peak, he did what the doctor said and applied as much pressure to your lower back as possible. “Remember. They said it’s worse if you fight it,” Van said in an attempt to help.

“Get absolutely fucked, Van. Feels like my internal organs are being fucking twisted and pulled out with the goddamn fucking baby,” you spat. Van didn’t reply but just continued to rub your back. The doctors and nursing staff seemed unfazed by your swearing. They’d probably heard worse.

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Maybe Bars Aren’t So Bad

Summary: reader goes to a bar to get away from the fighting at her sister’s place and who might she meet there but Jensen Ackles. this is an AU where no one is famous and Jensen isn’t in any kind of relationship with the amazing Daneel.

Warnings: Smut, drinking, fighting(not Jensen),

Word count: ~1800

A/N: feedback would be greatly appreciated! I’m still iffy on my smut writing skills and its my first Jensen fic so i hope yall like it!

It was supposed to be a fun vacation to see my sister and her kids in Austin, but her ex-husband- or soon to be ex- showed up and the fighting started. We were all settled on the couch watching a movie that my nine-year-old niece wanted to watch, some Disney movie I think, when we heard a pounding on the front door of my sister’s apartment. She got up to open the door to show a very drunk ex-husband named Dylan. 

“Go away, Dylan. You’re drunk…as usual” she tried to close the door in his face. 

“No, please! don't shut me out! We can fix this!” When he started shouting I shooed the kids into my room, I knew it might get ugly and children shouldn’t have to hear their parents fighting. Once they were in there i closed the door and went back out to tell him to leave.

“Dylan. you need to choose a different time to do this. A time when your kids can’t hear you, that goes for both of you. But I’m not going to make y'all do anything. I’m going to put the movie on in my room and make it loud so that the kids can’t hear you guys. And then I’m going to go find a bar for a few hours. Get your shit together, guys. be adults.” I scolded.

“Oh, fuck off! You’re always trying to get in the middle! You can’t fix everything for her all the time! Just because you have no one doesn’t mean you need to make everyone else as miserable as you!” Dylan shouted at me. With that, I flipped him off and walked out the door, leaving them to shout at each other. 

I walked to the nearest bar and ordered a beer, I wanted to be there for a while and I wasn't looking to get shitfaced right away, I hated bars but it was better than being where the fighting was happening. 

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anonymous asked:

Ironwinter "You need to go." or "I don't want you." because I could use some angst please.


Is this angsty enough for you, nonnie? Because I aim to please ;D




Of all the terrible things Bucky had done, this might actually be the worst. Tony was staring at him in confusion, coffee cup halfway to his lips. Perhaps Bucky should have picked a better time for this, but he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

“I’m sorry, what?” Tony asked, but his words lacked their usual confidence.

“I said, we should break up.” Bucky managed to maintain eye contact, but it took everything he had.

Tony blinked, his coffee cup lowering. Bucky could see the walls beginning to slam shut — Tony always hid behind them when he felt insecure or hurt.

“Okay. I admit that was sudden.” Tony sounded indifferent, but Bucky knew better. It was the carefree kind of nonchalance that Tony used whenever he felt like he’d lost control of the situation. Unsurprisingly, his boyfriend of six months suddenly dumping him without warning qualified as one of those times.

With effort, Bucky kept going, reminding himself that he had to do this. There was no other way. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “We gave it a try, but I don’t think it’s gonna work.”

Bucky hated himself.

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Mystic Messenger Fanfic: Kingdom of Words

Pairing: Saeran/MC

Rating: G

Other places to read: AO3

This fic is a gift to @an-ambivalent! I’m one of your @mystic-messenger-secret-santa (the mysterious anon hihi) :3 Sorry this is so late, dear! I tried to include as many of your preferences as I could, so I hope you enjoy this not so small fic I wrote for you ♥


The first time the words appeared on Saeran’s arm, he panicked. His only warning had been a warm, itchy sensation that’d made him look down, only to find a black scribble on his skin.

Can you see this?

He screamed. He couldn’t help it - as much as he rubbed, the words wouldn’t come off, nor did his hand get dirty with ink. Saeyoung rushed to his side, eyes wide, but once Saeran explained what was wrong, he hesitated, his gaze fixed at the point where Saeran could see the dark words in stark contrast against his reddened skin.

“I can’t see anything, Saeran.”

Before Saeran could process what Saeyoung had said, their mother came. He should’ve excpected it, should’ve known better than to make so much noise. His ears hurt with her screams, louder than his own; still, he tried reaching her - arm extended, he tried telling her about the words, tried asking her what they meant.

His only answer were two days without food, getting by with only the scraps Saeyoung managed to sneak him behind their mother’s back.

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Short Story.. Trigger Warning

You know how adults always warn you to watch what you say because you might hurt someone. Not only are they right, but those word can leave scars. Of course not physical scars, like the ones we see on someone’s wrists. Mental scars, ones that you can hide with a smile. I never knew these things existed until after I was in a car accident. 
It started when I was peer pressured into drinking a few beers at a graduation party. Ok, mayne a lot more than a few but still. Anyways, all of my senior friends were going off to college and I was the only sophomore male to be invited. Everyone was drinking. Jumping into the pool fully clothed. People kept bumping into me and offering me drinks that people already drank out of. I was sick and tired of being the only sober one so I started to drink. And I just kept on drinking.
Most of the details after that are pretty nebulous, even to this day. I remember getting in the car with some seniors who had offered to drive me home. That they had a few shots and had lost count of how many beers they chugged. The music in the car was too loud to hear the car in front of us wail on their horn. 
A few weeks later I woke up from a coma. I couldn’t open my eyes. I overheard the nurses talking about my injuries. I had severe internal bleeding and my femur was broken in two different spots. I had a metal shard in my forehead for two days before the doctors could find a safe way to remove it. The doctors weren’t sure if I would wake up to be the same person. They weren’t even sure if I would live. People with these kinds of injuries usually never recover.
I could feel someone’s hand grasping mine. It was a familiar hand, someone who I knew. I tried to speak but the tube in my throat prevented me from doing so. I felt them move, probably sitting up.
“Shh. Don’t try to talk. I am here.”
I felt myself relax. Tobias. He is actually here, I thought. I squeezed his hand, reassuring him and myself that we were both here. Together.
Tobias was the only family I had left. My parents died when I was young. I never got to know any of my foster parents, because I was in and out of their homes. I was a problem kid until he changed my life. He is my life.

After 2 weeks, I was finally able to open my eyes. I was expecting to see Tobias, but I saw something else in his place. It vaguely resembled a zombie. There were pieces of rotten flesh falling off of him and places that you could see through the body. There were also huge scars that probably took years to heal. The monitors picked up on my anxiety and the beeps increased in tempo. 
“Honey,” Said the figure that I was staring at. “Marcus. It’s me, your boyfriend. Tobias. Remember?”
I closed my eyes again and felt his hand on mine. It was the same one from two days ago. I open my eyes and see a mangled hand holding mine. I yell for the nurse and see a huge line form on his body. It was as if I had just taken a sword and sliced through it’s chest. 
The nurse was no different, zombie-like with open wounds and scars. I didn’t understand what was happening. My heart was pounding against my ribcage and I was hyperventilating. The nurse stuck a needle into my arm that was full of sedatives. The last thing I saw was the zombie Tobias holding me and trying to calm me down, like the real Tobias would. 

Next thing I know, I am in the psych ward. Yesterday, I told Tobias I didn’t see him the way I used to. He must have brought it up to my doctor. He was the only visitor I allowed in my room, because he was the only one that I knew wasn’t really one of the beasts that I was seeing. 
While I was in my hospital room, I saw people get hurt in the same way that I hurt Tobias multiple times. It wasn’t all gore though. I saw people healing too. Whether it be the nurse complementing the doctor; or a sick mother getting to see her kid for the first time in six years. Although some wounds were too deep to be fully healed, but others only left a white mark on the skin.
The doctors in psych gave me some medications, but those aren’t helping. I still see the mangled bodies that are supposed to be normal people. I have somewhat gotten used to seeing them this way, but it is still scary meeting a new person and not knowing if they really look like the way I see them or not. 
Tobias comes to see me once a week. It makes me feel safe when he’s around because I know with 100% certainty that he doesn’t really look like the person I see. We play chess and sometimes he brings in his guitar to play for me. The songs he plays always mesmerize me. 

I started lying to my doctors about what I see. They think the medication that they prescribed started to fix my mental state. In reality, I still see the bleeding and healing zombies. I have learned to ignore it and I apparently lie very well. 
Tobias started visiting more often after I started lying. I don't think he wants me to see the scars that he has tried so hard to hide from me.
There is talk about my release around the ward. I hope it is soon. I can’t wait to go home and be with Tobias alone. We haven’t been alone in forever. There are so many things I want to tell him. So many things I want to say I am sorry for. 
Today, Tobias gets to stay most of the day. It’s a family day here at the ward which means the patients get to spend a whole day with their family. I had to explain my situation to get the personnel to even let him on the list. 
He brought his guitar and tried to teach me a few chords. He got a little frustrated at me and decided we should do something else. I suggested that we should go out to the yard and watch clouds fly by. He smiled and pulled me towards the door. 

I was finally allowed home. I have to take an assortment of medication but I am finally home with Tobias. 
It has been 6 months since I have set foot in my own house. It looks the same except something seems off. Tobias has what could be described as a grin on his face. It is just so suspicious. I walk into the bedroom and I am greeted by a small, calico kitten meowing at me. It is the only thing I have seen in a long time that wasn’t mangled or had any resemblance to a zombie. 
I dropped to my knees and grabbed the precious little thing and started to cry. Tobias started to get concerned and I told him they were tears of joy. I couldn’t believe that he had gotten me a kitten.
“Her name is Luchadora.” Tobias said while petting the kitten in my arms.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“Fighter.”

That night I could finally see myself in a mirror. I hadn’t seen myself since before the accident. They didn’t have any at the ward because a few years back a guy broke one and slit his wrists trying to kill himself, making the administration take away all the mirrors and replacing metal silverware, glasses and ceramic dishes with plastic. 
What I saw in the mirror wasn’t what I remembered. I barely had any untouched skin. Most of the wounds were open. Very few were scars. I stared at myself for what seemed like an eternity, memorizing every wound. 
I saw Tobias in the mirror before he hugged me from behind. He kissed my neck and said that I needed to stop admiring myself so he can. I turned around and kissed him on the cheek. I told him I needed some sleep in my own bed. He said that he would join me later. 
I curled up under the covers. They smelled like Tobias. Luchadora joined me and feel right asleep. I admired how innocent she was. How untouched she was.

After a few years of seeing people as mangled bodies, I figured out why I could see scars that no one else can see. They are the emotional ones, the ones that we hide from the outside world. I have started to watch what I say. I have been trying to make people’s day better, not worse. Luchadora has a few scars on her now but I make sure that she doesn’t get anymore. Tobias and I adopted a beautiful Native American baby girl a few days after my 27th birthday. She was just as pure as Luchadora when we first got her.


Vocalist VIC FUENTES tells the stories behind each song on PIERCE THE VEIL’s Selfish Machines.


Besitos
This song very openly features the Spanish side of Pierce The Veil’s music. We always try to incorporate at least a hint of Latin influence in every song, but with this one, we just went all the way with it. Lyrically, it’s about my dysfunctional relationship with a girl I couldn’t stop hurting over and over again. It’s meant to be her speaking to me, asking me why I’m not satisfied with what we had. I wanted to write it from her perspective to try and understand what she was going through at the time. It ends with her wanting to kill me for all the stuff I’ve put her through.

Southern Constellations
This is basically just the intro to “The Boy Who Could Fly.” We decided to separate the tracks because otherwise, the song would be around six minutes long. This short, little tune describes my unexplainable and undeniable recent obsession with Southern girls. The clean guitar tone is one of my favorite tones on the entire album. We used a Stratocaster with a custom amp to get the glassy and unique sound we were looking for.

The Boy Who Could Fly
We went back to our SoCal punk roots for this song. The entire thing is punk beats and super-fast guitar work. It’s almost therapeutic for me to play, because it represents everything that we loved playing as kids. Mike [Fuentes] is the fastest single kick drum player I’ve ever seen, so this song features him in all his glory. The lyrics talk about an unhealthy co-dependent relationship in which I couldn’t live without the other person because if you took her away, I would lose half of myself. It’s about obsession and desperation, and the stupid things you do when you’re in love. Musically it’s the craziest, most intense song we’ve ever written.

Caraphernelia
The last time I saw my ex-girlfriend, she left all kinds of random things behind at my house: travel shampoo, a razor in the shower, hair clips, etc. It was basically just a bunch of stuff that kept reminding me of her. After a while, it made me miss her, and I wondered why we ever broke up in the first place. When I wrote the music for the chorus, I knew right away that I wanted to ask my friend Jeremy McKinnon [of A Day To Remember] to do the screaming parts on the chorus and bridge. A few weeks after I wrote the song, I approached Jeremy with the idea and he agreed to sing on the album. It turned out to be one of my favorite tracks once we collaborated. One of my favorite things to do is make music with my friends. That collaboration makes the songs very special to me.

Fast Times At Clairemont High
This is a very selfish song that basically says, “If I can’t have you, then no one can.” I think this has gone through everyone’s head at least a couple times in their life. The theme of this album talks about these natural thoughts and feelings to want and take–the desire to be in love and the desperation for someone else to love you. This song deals with human nature and our selfish tendencies. I like the music because it has a hint of Michael Jackson influence.

The New National Anthem
I used to drive six hours just to see this girl that I liked. She was beautiful, but didn’t know it because she was from a small town. I went to her place once and it was completely empty because she was in the process of moving into another apartment. I remember making out with her in the dark in the middle of her empty carpeted floor. A lot of the lyrics are about that night. I recorded the intro to this song in our apartment in L.A. We used a lot of the original sounds from my ghetto little recording on the album.

Bulletproof Love
I’ve always been obsessed with happy songs that have morbid lyrics. Lyrically, this song is one of the darkest I’ve ever written. It’s about being obsessed with someone to the point where you’re hurting yourself. A lot of it is written almost like a suicide note meant to be found by the one you love. It’s completely crazy and extreme, but it’s also comforting to say out loud the things you’re thinking sometimes.

Stay Away From My Friends
This is about my ex-girlfriend trying to stay in close contact with my friends even after we had broken up. We all need our friends to be there for us and help us out during hard times. I wrote the piano parts in my living room at home in San Diego. We wanted to challenge ourselves with this song and make it as different as possible from the rest of the album. We threw it right in the middle of the album as a sort of a breath of fresh air. My friend Dave Yaden played all the keys on this record, as well as on [2007’s A Flair For The Dramatic], and that took everything to the next level.

I Don’t Care If You’re Contagious
I wrote a great deal of these lyrics after a young fan had explained to me that her boyfriend had just recently died in a car accident. She told me that he held her hand for the first time at our one of our shows. She told me that she just wanted to thank us for being a part of their lives. This was one of the most shocking and heartbreaking things I’d ever heard. I wrote the song as a gift to her. It’s meant to be her boyfriend speaking to her, telling her that he is still watching over her and that he will love her forever.

Disasterology
This song is basically about a typical guy’s dream. It talks about girls, drinking and having the time of your life. It’s very poetic and drifts around just like a person’s mind would inside of a dream. I purposely just wrote down the first things that popped into my head. The chorus talks about building something beautiful only to destroy it. This is a very philosophical idea that I’ve played around with for a long time. I wrote most of the music in Florida with my good friend [former ADTR guitarist] Tom Denney. He and I worked on the music for this song, “The Boy Who Could Fly” and “The Sky Under The Sea.” Love you, Tom!

Million Dollar Houses (The Painter)
I wrote this song as a gift to my parents. It’s meant to be my dad talking to my mom. My dad has worked very hard his entire life as a painting contractor, struggling and fighting to make enough money to keep us going. We recently had to sell our house because things were just getting too expensive to afford anymore. This song is about how through all the years, my mom and dad have never let money tear them apart, and no matter how bad things got, they’ve always had each other. I strongly express my hatred for money and the way it sometimes fucks with people’s lives and families. All you need is love. The Beatles were right all along. Go figure.

The Sky Under The Sea
This song is about admitting, “I am the selfish machine.” It’s about being selfish with love and taking what you want without regret. The selfish machine refers to the animal inside all of us that no one ever wants to admit is there. I consider all of our evil thoughts and desires that we are ashamed of to be perfectly natural. We are all humans and no one is perfect, despite how morally good someone may think he or she is. alt

Bring The Night On

For my precious kekerocks154pink, who requested: Bellamy x reader imagine where the reader is jealous of Clarke and his friendship, and hates Clarke cuz she killed her brother Finn, and it ends all cute and fluffy? Please and thank you.


Everything was gravely quiet for around ten seconds. Even the sounds of Raven’s horrified wails went unnoticed beneath the sound of your heart pumping rushing waves of blood into your ears. Then it went off like a nuclear bomb, hitting you with a blinding white light and a static ringing pierced your eardrums. Your legs felt like gelatin and your knees gave way sending you crashing down to the muddy earth.

Bellamy was holding your limp body in his arms. You fell against him like dead weight and his muffled words fell on deaf ears.

You prayed that your eyes were deceiving you when you saw Clarke back away from Finn with crimson colored hands and a bloody blade. You thought your heart would burst from your chest as you watched his head hang lifelessly in the distance and you yelled for him to get up. He didn’t.

Finn wasn’t your brother by blood but he was in spirit. You knew that the two of you would be close from the moment you first laid eyes on that spirited six-year-old boy doing cartwheels down the hall in mecha station. Your parents had practically adopted him as one of their own. Whether it was defending you from that large boy that used to bully you for your rations or letting you copy his earth skills homework; Finn was always there to look out for you. He had taken care of you aboard the ark and made it his responsibility, as honorary big brother, to protect you on the ground.

The one you had accepted as your brother was now gone from this planet. His vibrant spirit had returned to the heavenly night sky, taking its rightful place among the stars.

You understood that Finn’s brazen attack against an innocent grounder village was wrong, but you still held Clarke solely responsible for his death. Clarke had cut his precious life short and taken him away from you. The moment she carved that knife into Finn’s chest was the same moment that you lost your only surviving family member and every time you looked upon Clarke’s pallid face you were reminded of the misdeed that she had committed.

The only person who was keeping you mildly sane during the wake of your tremendous loss was Bellamy. Even he had his moments where he drove you up the proverbial wall with his constant clinging to Clarke. They were always together, mostly for business but sometimes for pleasure. You kept telling yourself their persistent interaction was all for the greater good, but the devil on your shoulder spoke to your possessive nature and convinced you to question their intentions.

Bellamy was a good looking guy full of raw potential and charisma, a lady killer if you will. You would’ve been foolish to think that the other young ladies around camp weren’t swooning over him. You were fully aware of the lustful eyeballs that ogled your boyfriend’s muscular physique any time he made an appearance and it would’ve been a lie to say it didn’t bother you.

Sure, there was the fact that Bellamy had verbally declared his love for you on several occasions, but the premise of his former persona, Mr. Steal-your-girl, always stuck uncomfortably in the back of your mind. He wasn’t exactly the committed type upon your first meeting and the idea of losing him, to the very woman that mercy killed your adopted brother, was very real.

Your trust for Bellamy became like the grains of sand in an hourglass. For every second he spent with Clarke, a bit of your trust for him slipped away like the sands of time and time was almost up.

You had been arguing with Bellamy over this issue for days now. He had spent countless nights trying to subdue your fears of infidelity, always assuring you that he had committed himself exclusively to you. Tonight was no different from the previous few, right on schedule for a train wreck.

“Do you know how many days you’ve spent away from Clarke this week?” You asked snappily. It was a rhetorical question, meaning that you already knew the answer. It wasn’t meant to be answered but to prove a point. Bellamy scarcely had time to form his lips around an audible word before you were interrupting him, “Zero, that’s how many.”

“Are you going to let me speak?” Bellamy asked raising his thick black eyebrows. 

You shut your mouth and crossed your arms in a sassy gesture meant for him to speak up and take the floor.

“We’re trying to save lives.”

“What about Finn’s life?” You countered. “She didn’t save him.”

“Clarke did what she had to.”

Bellamy was always ridiculously cool and calm when you two quarreled, a trait that was equally frustrating and endearing. You could yell and scream until you were red in the face but not him. He would just stand there, watching like a parent that was patiently waiting for their child to stop throwing a tantrum.

“Are you taking her side?” You accused.

“We need the grounders if we’re going to free our friends from Mount Weather,” Bellamy said trying to placate your rage with reason.

“Answer the question, Bellamy.”

“I know your upset-”

“Upset?” You cut in furiously. Upset was an understatement. Perhaps, two nights ago you had been upset, but tonight you were livid. “I’m in mourning!”

“What do you want me to say?” Bellamy said snatching his jacket from the shabby chair near your room door. “Because everything I say is just going to piss you off.”

He reached for the door.

“Where are you going?” You sighed.

“I’ll be back.”

This was the fight routine: you would scream and he would put up with it until his ears were bloody, then he would leave.

In the event of a disagreement, there were only two places that Bellamy would retreat to. The first would be to the canteen to grab a shot of Monty and Jasper’s homemade moonshine and the other was running off on another mission with Clarke. 

It was late night when Bellamy came traipsing back into your room. Upon his entry, the pungent and lingering aroma of alcohol hadn’t flooded your nostrils and that only meant one thing.

“You were with her again,” You spat.

“You know what?” Bellamy said holding his arms out. “If you want to knock my head off then go right ahead.”

You reared your fist as far back as you possibly could and followed through clumsily with the strength of about ten cotton balls. You spun out of control, losing your footing and missing your target by a mile.

Bellamy caught you around the waist in an attempt to stop you from falling but your blundering force pulled him into your descent. You both came crashing down to the floor below with a loud thud, knocking over several pieces of furniture in the process.

“I think I broke something,” You groaned.

“More like a few things,” Bellamy said prying a piece of a broken chair leg out from under him.

You looked around at the mess you created and then back at Bellamy who was still awkwardly holding that bit of broken chair. You both burst into side-splitting laughter; the kind of laughter that made tears stream and stomachs ache.

“You were actually going to punch me,” Bellamy chortled.

“It was your idea, genius.”

“It’s a wonder you’ve survived this long with that killer right hook,” Bellamy teased, wiping away your tears of laughter.

You were always Bellamy’s responsibility and first priority. You had just gotten so accustomed to Finn being there to share that responsibility and now that he was gone, the obligation to protect you rested entirely on Bellamy.  

You realized that you were too hard on him. You had survived for this long on account of Bellamy’s tireless work. The time spent on missions with Clarke was never about her but it was always about you and your safety.

“I’m an idiot,” you said nuzzling your feverish face into Bellamy’s chest. “Do you forgive me?”

“Always,” he replied, lifting your chin and meeting your lips with a soft kiss. “Now how about we work on that right hook.”

Night Moves

They go to bed just as it starts to rain, and Harry’s arm is draped over Niall’s bare stomach, his fingers gently tracing Niall’s abs until he falls asleep, his head resting on Niall’s chest.

Niall is drifting in and out of sleep, but he isn’t really bothered by the fact that he wakes up every now and then. He’s used to it, and tonight it’s not so bad.

He’s relishing the peace and quiet, relishing the feeling of Harry’s curls on his chest, relishing the tickling feeling of Harry’s warm breath against his skin, relishing the sound of the rain against the windows and the sound of the wind that’s whispering in his ear and how warm it is in Harry’s bed- their bed. He’s relishing in how good it feels to be in the arms of the man he loves, cuddled up under their blankets.

Suddenly the peace and quiet is disrupted by the sound of thunder, and it’s a really loud crack, almost like the sound of a whip being cracked. Harry doesn’t even stir, not even when the door to their bedroom suddenly opens, but Niall stiffens and reaches to turn on the lamp on his nightstand, squinting his eyes against the light until he sees a very sleepy, very unhappy Olivia Styles standing in the doorway, looking terrified and so, so small.

“I’m scared,” she says, her voice wavering a bit, and Niall immediately sits up, careful not to disturb Harry. He makes sure he doesn’t let the covers drop too far, because Olivia definitely doesn’t have to be traumatized by the sight of Niall without his pants on.

“Daddy always says I don’t have to be scared, but I can’t help it,” she whispers, padding over to the bed. Niall doesn’t immediately react, thinking hard of something he can say to make her less scared, but he can’t really think of anything.

“Just come here already, Little Styles,” he settles on whispering, his voice soft and a small smile on his face. He opens his arms, motioning for her to come closer. She immediately throws her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder like he’s the only one that can keep her safe right now, and if Niall’s honest, that feels pretty good.

It’s amazing, Niall thinks, how he didn’t even know this little girl a little over a year ago, and now he loves her to bits, and he’s planning on getting married to her dad in the near future. He holds Olivia
close, muttering something in her ear that he’s not sure she can even hear, but
it seems to work, so he doesn’t really care.

“You know the thing about thunder?” he whispers. “Right now, a giant is very, very hungry, and because of that, his stomach’s rumbling really hard. That’s the sound you hear.”

“It is?” Olivia asks, leaning back to look at him with wide eyes. Niall nods, and she seems to be convinced that what he’s just said is true. It must be, right, when Niall says it’s true?!

“You know what? Why don’t you go get your bear, and you can come sleep in our bed?” She nods vigorously at that, already on her way to her room. Niall carefully slips out from under Harry, getting his pants from where they’re laying discarded on the floor.

When Harry wakes up in the morning, his first thought is to check on Olivia because it’s raining, and why hasn’t she come to him? His second thought is confusion as to when Niall put his pants back on, and more importantly, why. His third thought? It’s pure bliss. He looks over at where his daughter is burrowed deep under the covers on Niall’s side, sleeping soundly through the storm with her arm slung across Niall’s stomach and a serene smile on her face, and the only thing he can think is that he needs to marry this wonderful man.

anonymous asked:

Helloooo!! Could you write a scenario for Taichi, Kenjiro, Semi and Tendou when they have their first big fight with their s/o? I need something angsty with a good ending >.< I hope that's not too many characters but I'm on mobild and don't know where your rules are/ if you have any x.x sorry!

YES SHIRATORIZAWA. Honestly guys, send in more of these boys. I am so hyped about this season!!! 

Also, yes I do have rules! I posted a link for mobile users but you would have to scroll down my blog to find them. I also forgot that you asked for a first big fight and I was really tired when I wrote this BUT I tried really hard on these(: (but if you don’t like these, definitely feel free to send in the request again!)

Long//Female Pronouns Used

Taichi

It was after Taichi’s volleyball game, his team had won and you guys were going to go out and celebrate. You exited the bleachers and started making your way to find Taichi. That’s when you say him, except, he was with another girl. She was hanging all over your man. You felt your stomach drop and your face burning up with anger. You could feel the tears starting to well up in your eyes, “Taichi how could you?!” The middle blocker was shocked to see you, “(Y/n)-chan!” The sight before your eyes was too painful to look at. You turned your back and ran out of the gymnasium as fast as your feet could carry you. 

You made it all the way home. You were out of breath but you were too sad to even notice. As soon as you entered your room, you threw yourself onto your bed. You muffled your loud cries into your pillow, not wanting your parents to hear. All of a sudden you felt your phone vibrating, you looked at the screen and saw Taichi’s name. You ignored him and went back to crying into your pillow. That’s when you heard something against your window. At first, you didn’t think anything about it, but the noise wouldn’t stop. You went to look out your window to see what was up. 

Standing outside of your window was Taichi, he had small pebbles in his hands. “Taichi, what’re you doing here?” He dropped the tiny stones, “I came to see what was wrong! You started crying and ran out of the gym!” Crossing your arms over your chest you said, “Don’t play dumb Taichi! You know I saw you with that girl. She had her hands all over you!” Kawanishi dropped his head into his hands. “No, (y/n)! It’s not what you think, that was Reon’s sister!” 

You stood there dumb founded. Not only did you falsely accuse Taichi of cheating, but you made a complete idiot of yourself in front of everyone. You couldn’t take it anymore. You left your room and headed down the stairs and out of the house to where Taichi was. You jumped into his arms, knocking him onto the ground, smothering him with tiny apology kisses. 

Kenjiro

“Kenjiro, I know you want to get better, but practice has been over for two hours and I need to get home.” Shirabu looked unphased, “Ok. I’m going to stay here for a while. I’ll see you at school on Monday.” He didn’t move his eyes from the ball and continued to practice. You were worried about Shirabu, he’s been practicing non-stop. Lately, he’s been so tired that he’s falling asleep in class. You walked behind Kenjiro and wrapped your arms around him, “Kenny please stop, you’re going to over work yourself!” He clutched the ball with his large hands. You could feel his sweat seeping through his shirt, but that wasn’t going to make you let go. “Please Kenjiro, please st-”

“I can’t! I have to be able to give the best tosses I can to Ushijima! If I don’t, then I won’t be able to play with strong players. So please (y/n), just keep supporting me and let me-” 

You squeezed him harder, “No Shirabu! You need to rest! I can’t support you if you don’t know when to take a break! I refuse to help you practice or got to your matches anymore. I-I just don’t want you to make yourself sick. I love you Kenjiro…I want to see you succeed but you need to go home and get your rest!” 

Shirabu was silent for a moment, then he started to chuckle, “That’s what I like about you (y/n). You always know how to keep me in line…” He turned around and placed his hands on your cheeks. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” Kenjiro leaned his, resting his forehead on yours. “Come on (y/n)-chan, let’s clean up the gym. I’ll walk you to the station tonight.” 

Semi

Semi had asked to come over and go swimming with you. At first you were excited, not only would you get to see Semi in all his glory, but you got to show off your cute new swimsuit! Only problem was, you guys hadn’t even been in the water for ten minutes and all Eita was doing was complaining about Kenjiro. Semi didn’t even comment on your new one piece! 

“That punk Shirabu…I can’t believe he replaced me as the official setter!” Lately, that’s all your boyfriend has been talking about. Shirabu this, Shirabu that. Usually you took the time to comfort Semi, but today you just weren’t having it. “I’m not trying to be rude Semi, but don’t you think you should get over it now? I mean it’s been a few months? Plus isn’t he a second year? Maybe take this time to coach him or something.” You could tell he was getting pouty because he crossed his arms and puffed out his chest. That’s when he swam over to you, “I thought you were on my side!” 

You sighed, “I am on your side Eita, I just think it’s time for you to move on. Just work even harder to get your spot back!” He made a pouty face, “You don’t get it do you?” Ugh that’s it, you have had enough! “You know what? Do whatever, I’m tired of always comforting and supporting you about this. If you don’t want my opinion, then don’t come to about your problems.” You started to get out of the pool, “Hey! Where are you going?” 

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going to dry off and go inside.”

“Oh no you don’t!” Eita grabbed you by the waist and pulled you back in. “What the heck Semi?!” He started poking you around your hips and stomach. His was face turning red. “I guess I’m upset about the whole situation mainly because now I don’t look as cool when you come to my games. I mean I’m always on the bench watching everyone else…” Oh, now you get it. He was worried about trying to impress you.

“Semi, you’re so silly.” You turned to face Eita and gave him a wet kiss. “I don’t care about that. I mean, of course I want to see you play, and I get really excited when you do. But all I care about is you wanting to get better and giving it your all!” 

He gave you a big grin, “You know (y/n), I can tell you’re starting to fill out some.” You splashed him, “Shut up!” He gave you even more tiny kisses and he continued to poke at sides.

Tendou (This one isn’t too angsty sorry)

“(Y/n)-chan, take a look at this manga!” You and Tendou were having yourselves a cute little date. He wanted to head on over to the bookstore to see if any new Shounen Jump had been released. “Oh cool! Is that the new one from that anime you’ve been watching?” He nodded his head in excitement, “Yes! I’m going to go pay for it! You wait here, I’ll be right back!” He practically skipped to the register. “He’s so cute…”

“Speaking of cute.” You heard a voice behind you. When you looked to see who it was, you saw that it was classmate of yours. “Oh, hello (c/m/n). Are you here to buy the new shounen jump to?” He shook his head, “Not exactly.” He took a step closer. “By the way, you look absolutely adorable today. Are you alone today? We could get away from here if that’s ok with you?” He grabbed your wrist and started to pull on you.

“Actually, I’m here with my boyfriend, and will you please let me go?” He wouldn’t take no for an answer though. “Oh are you still dating that chump Tendou? Why don’t you dump him and go with a real man like me?” That’s when a large shadow appeared. It loomed over your classmate, you recognized it perfectly. It was Tendou. 

He snorted, “Excuse me? What’re you doing to my girl?” (C/m/n) let go of your wrist. “Hey look man I don’t want any trouble.” Satori wasn’t having it though, he grabbed your classmate by the collar and held him against the book shelf. “Let me give you some advice pal, if I ever hear about you hitting on my girl ever again, I’ll throw volleyballs at your head so hard that you’ll slip into a coma.” 

“Ok, Ok! I’ll leave her alone for good, just let me go!” Tendou set down the scared boy and watched as he ran out of the bookstore. You looked up to Satori, “Thanks babe!” He draped an arm around your shoulder, “Nobody messes with miracle boy’s girl!” 

You sighed, “The moment’s over…” He yelped a little, making the store clerk shush him. The two of you left the bookstore hand in hand, feeling very proud to have such a protective boyfriend. But not before Tendou snuck in some kisses in between the bookshelves~ 

Garrett Inquisition Banters - Dorian
  • Dorian: The Champion of Kirkwall, is it? A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance
  • Garrett: I wouldn't have thought anyone who could have had a seat in the Magesterium would much care to know about the south
  • Dorian: You know of the Magesterium? Truly? Most in the South think ever mage in Tevinter is a Magister
  • Garrett: Don't take it as a compliment. My husband was a slave to one of your magisters
  • ---
  • Dorian: So you married a slave?
  • Garrett: /Former/ slave. He belongs to no one
  • Dorian: Ooh, touchy
  • ---
  • Dorian: Have I offended you?
  • Garrett: What makes you think I'm offended?
  • Dorian: Well in Varric's book he writes you as an understanding paragon of goodness, and yet whenever I'm within ten feet you start scowling
  • Garrett: I... didn't realise. I apologise
  • Dorian: Oh no need. In fact, it makes you one of the friendliest southerners I've met so far!
  • ---
  • Dorian: So-
  • Garrett: Not now
  • Dorian: I haven't even said anything
  • Garrett: I'm not up for talking at the moment. Please, just not now
  • Varric: Leave him alone, Sparkler. Everyone has their days
  • ---
  • Garrett: So you actually read Varric's books then?
  • Dorian: Not all of them. I tried reading that romance, Swords and Shields, per Cassandra's recommendation. I felt my IQ drop after the first sentence
  • Garrett: The Seeker recommended it? Varric will have a field day with that
  • Dorian: Well would you look at that? A smile! I feel blessed
  • Garrett: *sighs* And now you've ruined it
  • ---
  • Dorian: So... you're interested in men, are you?
  • Garrett: And married
  • Dorian: Well I noticed /that/. You and Fenris can barely keep your hands off of each other. I was just wondering...
  • Garrett: What?
  • Dorian: Never mind. Let's go back to you scowling at me whenever I walked into the room, that was much more comfortable
  • ---
  • (After Dorian's personal quest)
  • Garrett: The other day, when you brought up my preference for men, were you going to ask about my father when he found out?
  • Dorian: Ah, I've been had, have I?
  • Garrett: It would seem so. Do you still want to know?
  • Dorian: So long as it doesn't end with 'and then he decided to try a blood ritual to make me acceptable'
  • Garrett: Nothing like that. I was about seventeen when I realised, nineteen when I finally told him. It wasn't easy. I was terrified actually
  • Dorian: You were scared he wouldn't approve. I understand. What did he do, when you told him?
  • Garrett: He and my mother sat there and they listened. And when it was done, they just hugged me, told me they loved me, and that was it
  • Dorian: I see. You were lucky to have parents so ready to accept you as you were
  • Garrett: I was. And maybe you might be too, if your father's serious about making amends
  • Dorian: Maybe. I'd like to think he is
  • ---
  • Dorian: So your brother is a Grey Warden?
  • Garrett: He is. My fault, I'm afraid
  • Dorian: How so? I take it you didn't make him do it on a dare?
  • Garrett: I let him have his way. I let him go on that damned Deep Roads Expedition because he'd have thrown a fit over it otherwise
  • Dorian: He caught the Blight, I take it?
  • Garrett: Yes. And if not for Anders knowing where to find Grey Wardens, he would have died
  • Dorian: That hardly makes it your fault. Sounds more like rotten luck to me
  • Garrett: If I'd just made him stay at home-
  • Dorian: He'd have thrown a fit and done something equally stupid to spite you, I'm sure
  • Carver: I'm standing right here you know
  • Dorian: Oh I'm well aware
  • ---
  • Dorian: You know I always thought that Varric made that up
  • Garrett: *groans* Dare I even ask...
  • Dorian: You'd really never kissed anyone before Fenris? And he was your first time too? My, how romantic
  • Garrett: I am going to kill Varric...
  • Dorian: And here I thought we were past the 'you scowling at my mere presence' stage
  • ---
  • Garrett: So, you and Farier?
  • Dorian: Ah, you are curious? Well, I do love talking about me, so there's no harm in indulging you
  • Garrett: *chuckles* How on earth does he put up with you?
  • Farier: Well see, he does this thing with his tongue where he-
  • Dorian: Amatus!
  • Farier: *smugly* What? You use your tongue to talk, don't you?
  • Dorian: Oh, you little-!
  • Garrett: *laughs*
  • ---
  • Dorian: So... open to a friendly wager, Garrett?
  • Garrett: Hardly. The last time I wagered anything, it involved Isabela winning my clothes at cards and me running home with a bucket to cover my privates
  • Dorian: *laughs* Quite the image! Now that's a story I have to hear
  • Varric: I'll tell you all about it back at camp, Sparkler
  • Marian: You can see it first hand if you get him drunk enough
  • Dorian: And now I have my next endeavour all planned out
  • Garrett: Maker, no. Just no
  • ---
  • Garrett: So, out of curiosity, what did you want to wager on?
  • Dorian: Interested are we?
  • Garrett: Hardly, just curious as to what you were going to propose
  • Dorian: Well it's not fun if we don't wager. Varric put in for ten royals already on the odds of three-to-one
  • Garrett: In favour of what?
  • Dorian: I'm only telling those who are betting
  • ---
  • Garrett: Fine, just tell me what we're betting on
  • Dorian: Aha! Knew your curiosity would win out. We're betting on our dear Inquisitor's chances for success
  • Garrett: You're... betting on whether or not she'll die? That's rather morbid
  • Dorian: Not dying per say, though I suppose that will be the outcome if Corypheus isn't stopped. So, your wager?
  • Garrett: Not my trousers, that's for damn sure
  • Dorian: *laughs* Blast, and to think I could have owned the trousers of the Champion of Kirkwall!
  • Sera: I could pants him for you!
  • Garrett: Don't even think about it
  • Sera: *cackles* Too late!
  • Garrett: She's joking... Right?
  • Dorian: My dear Garrett, I'd watch myself from now on if I were you
  • ---
  • Dorian: So I sated your curiosity on our bet, now sate mine. Why /were/ you always scowling at me?
  • Garrett: I didn't even realise I was doing it before you pointed it out
  • Dorian: Nonsense, there must have been a reason. I /did/ hear you duelled Danarius and had a part in his death
  • Garrett: True. And I still have the scars to prove it
  • Dorian: So is it because I was nearly a magister? I take it that it's not because I'm from Tevinter, considering your choice in marital partner
  • Garrett: I... I don't know
  • Dorian: Ah, perhaps you feared I would harm Fenris in some way? I imagine he paints quite a picture of the Imperium
  • Garrett: Just... stop. I don't want to talk about this anymore
  • Dorian: Very well. Shall we talk about me instead? I do love that topic
  • ---
  • Dorian: Are they always that loud?
  • Garrett: Try sleeping next door to them. I think they do it on purpose
  • Dorian: Have you ever tried-?
  • Garrett: Yes, and it doesn't work. Trust me
  • Dorian: You must have gotten back at them somehow. I doubt Fenris would let it go
  • Garrett: *smugly* Well we did book them for the Bad Girl Special at the Blooming Rose once
  • Dorian: What-?
  • Marian: I still hate you for that
  • Garrett: I know. And it was worth it
  • ---
  • Dorian: You... really remember nothing?
  • Garrett: Not really. Only what I've been told since waking up
  • Dorian: Hm. When the Nightmare stole Lyris' memories, it only took her memories of the Conclave... Perhaps it was your extended contact with the demon that did it
  • Garrett: Do you think it will come back?
  • Dorian: I don't know. But if there is a chance, I am happy to help however I can
  • Garrett: Thank you Dorian
  • Dorian: Hmph, of course it took a memory wipe for you to say that to me
  • ---
  • Dorian: Lothering?
  • Garrett: Darkspawn
  • Dorian: Cheery. Kirkwall?
  • Garrett: Home
  • Dorian: Fenris?
  • Garrett: Husband
  • Dorian: Are you saying that because you know it, or because you feel it?
  • Garrett: ...both
  • Dorian: Hm... Ah. Dorian?
  • Garrett: *smugly* Scowling
  • Dorian: Aha, you /are/ starting to remember properly now, aren't you?
  • ---
  • Garrett: Thank you Dorian
  • Dorian: Well, I won't be one to refuse thanks but I usually like to know what I'm being thanked for
  • Garrett: For helping me remember. I was a bit of an arse to you in the beginning, wasn't I?
  • Dorian: Well you didn't spit when we met. It's more than I can say for the blacksmith
  • Garrett: *sighs* And there goes the moment...
  • ---
  • Garrett: So, Dorian...
  • Dorian: Ah, are we back to scowling now I am to be a true Magister? Don't worry, I won't hold it against you. I've even been practicing my maniacal laugh
  • Garrett: I just wanted to offer my sympathies for your father's death. I know how hard it is to lose a parent
  • Dorian: *sympathetically* Or two, in your case. I appreciate the sentiment, though I'd rather not speak at length about it
  • Garrett: Of course. Have you at least had your grapes peeled for you since being back in Tevinter?
  • Dorian: *laughs* No, but it is at the top of my list when I take my seat in the Magesterium. Along with trying to drag the Imperium back out of the muck, though that's a slightly more long term goal I'm afraid
  • Garrett: I'd heard a few rumours about that. You really think you can do it?
  • Dorian: Maybe, maybe not. But if I don't try, who will?
  • Garrett: True enough. If you ever need anything...
  • Dorian: Oh perish the thought. I believe you've been through enough, my friend. Only fate would be unkind enough to saddle you with yet more trouble after all of this
Can’t Go Back (Part 3)

Word Count: 2,284

DeanxReader

Warnings: Uhhh if you find any let me know :)

Request: Can you write a one shot where Dean and the reader have hooked up numerous times in the past. Then Dean tries to meet up with the reader and she keeps blowing him off and finally he finds her only to find she has a growing baby bump?

A/N: Well it looks like instead of Sam it’s gonna be part 3 cause I got some inspiration for it and just couldn’t stop writing.I’m completely overjoyed that you guys wanted a part 3….so here it goes! Don’t get too mad at me ;)

Part 1

Part 2

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jxst-saying  asked:

hi!!!!! "if you don't want to be with me anymore, just say it." with luke if you wanna. i know you're going to make me cry. ((-: xx.

insp. / quote sent in from a lovely anon

“Oh come on,” Luke chided, rolling his eyes and leaning against the stairway railing with his arms crossed in front of his chest and an indignant look stretched across his face. “You don’t have to lie to me, okay? I’m a big boy, I can handle rejection.”

Shaking your head, you sighed and simply brushed past him up to the second floor of the blonde’s loft, the city lights from stories below etching luminescent designs on the white ceiling above his California King size bed laid in the middle of the spacious room. The argument currently taking place was one you were absolutely sick and tired of; the lone subject Luke never failed to bring up despite the fact that you told him many times you refused to talk about it.

“Are you serious?” Luke asked in disbelief, following you closely behind as you slid your overnight bag you’d brought to his apartment the previous day out from under his bed before shimmying out of the shirt of his that you’d been wearing since you’d woke in the morning. “That’s it, you’re just gonna leave?”

You shrugged, keeping your eyes on the open window panes and willing the glowing grid of the city to not morph into a mush of lights; ordering yourself to keep your tears at bay. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Luke,” you stated, your voice quiet, meek, and the slightest bit hoarse as you fumbled for your pair of jeans previously kicked by the blonde’s dresser the night prior.

“What do I want you to say?” he repeated back to you, the pitch of his voice heightened with desperation. “I want you to tell me you feel it too.” Luke swallowed, his shaky exhale loud in the vast silence of his apartment as you pulled your jeans up your legs with difficulty; trying to ignore the burning of the boy’s gaze burning into your back. “I want you to stop lying to me.”

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deathwalkerberry  asked:

You ask for prompts, I don't really have one, but I would love to see more of the six winged tsuna au that you have. Definitely more fatherly!Reborn!

Sure thing. I needed a reason to get off my lazy butt and start the next part of that AU anyway.

———–

Flying is one of the most important lessons parents teach their children. Children don’t have the best hand-eye coordination, but its important for them to get a handle on flying around the time they turn five or six. Just old enough to understand the concept, to understand the importance of the wings on their back and how to use them. 

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- L e t   h e r   g o - An Isaac Lahey Imagine |

                                                Only know you love her when you let her go,


                                                 And you let her go.





Y/N P.O.V


Isaac! Where are you going?!” You shouted, chasing after him. He ran his fingers through his hair making it even more dishevelled in an almost frustrated manner.

His eyes were red and puffy whilst he stared at you, he then licked his chapped lips and opened his mouth to reply, “S-somewhere far from here.”

A whimper then escaped from you, but you quickly covered your mouth as you tried to stop the sobs. And as your vision blurred, Isaac soon seemed to disappear with it.

“Why?” You urged, grasping his biceps, “Isaac, at least tell me why you’re leaving- or so help me God, I will-”

By surprise, Isaac clasped both hands on the side of your face before planting his lips onto yours. The kiss was almost desperate, but once he pulled away, you knew it was a parting kiss, his way of saying goodbye.

Suddenly feeling cold by the sudden loss of warmth, he stepped back, analysing you before completely turning away. “I’m letting you go Y/n. I’m giving you a chance to find someone better, someone who is not me and someone who your parents will approve of.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “But I don’t want to anyone but you Isaac.”

He glanced behind him, his blue eyes trailing on you before giving a weak smile, “Trust me Y/n, it’s for the best.

And with that, he hiked up his bags before walking out of the door.

He let you go.


                                     -     TWO WEEKS EARLIER,   -

“Isaac I want you to answer this question then move on to section b.” You instructed whilst giving a pointed look to your boyfriend, who let out an exasperated sigh.

“Can we take a break Y/n, just by looking at the textbooks is making my eyes sore, but luckily i also have you to look at- in all which makes me see as clear as day.” He spoke, causing you to chuckle at his cheesiness.

You then raised a brow and lightly tapped his cheek, “Well said Lahey but I’m afraid being cheesy was not part of our deal.”

The thing was, Isaac needed help and was miserably failing his subjects and with all the teachers giving up on him, you were the only one willing to help.

With a sigh, you grasped his hand and smiled, “C’mon Isaac. I really want you to pass alright?”

“Can we take a break now?” He questioned once again, completely changing the subject causing you to groan.

Taking your hand away from him you shoved the textbook to him and replied flatly, “No.

Despite the fact that he almost looked discouraged, he took your answer as a challenge. Isaac grasped all the textbooks and flung them to the floor and all you could do was gape at him in shock. Isaac’s lips then pulled into a smirked as he hauled you towards him.

“No?” He teased, with his soft lips brushing against your cheek.

You gulped whilst your cheeks grew hot. “Isaac, what are yo-”

But before you could finish the sentence, your bedroom door flew open revealing both of your parents who held horrified expressions on their faces. However, you and Isaac eyes grew wide like a deer caught in headlights, whilst an eerie silence enveloped the room.

“Both of you, outside now!” Your father’s voice boomed, causing the both of you to jump in shock but obey his orders.

Once the cold breeze greeted you like an old friend, you carried on following Isaac and your father before your mother held you back. You then silently watched as your boyfriend avoided your fathers glaring orbs which almost looked as if it was piercing holes on his skin.

“I-I can explain-” Isaac began, stepping forward but your Dad held his hand up, stopping him.

“There’s no need, because I want you to stay away from my Y/n, do you hear me?!” Your father yelled, pointing his finger at Isaac, whose head hung lowly, almost in shame.

You escaped your mothers hold and immediately grasped your dads arm pulling him back, “Dad! Stop! Isaac did nothing!”

Your boyfriend’s blue orbs glanced at you whilst you desperately begged your father to leave him alone. “Y/n, go to your mother, now…”

You shook your head as tears threatened to spill from your eyes, “No Dad! Listen-”

Suddenly Isaac stood next to you and intertwined his fingers with yours, “I heard you loud and clear Sir. But I don’t think I would be able to do it because-I’m in love with your daughter.”

Your father’s mouth hung wide in astonishment, as he couldn’t believe what has come out from the blonde boy who stood in front of him.

What?” He asked, pausing. “I don’t care if you love her. I know who you are Lahey and you are no good for my daughter. So step away from her now or I call the police.”

Your brows furrowed as you stared at the man who always encouraged that when you fall for someone, it was always a good thing but not now it wasn’t.

“No Dad- please! I love him too! Why are you trying to separate us?!

“You don’t know what you’re saying Y/n.” Your dad then turned to Isaac, “I want you nowhere near my daughter, understand?”

Before you could you open your mouth to protest, your father ripped you away from Isaac and pulled you towards the house. Struggling to escape his tight grip, you flailed your arms about as the tears ran down your cheeks freely.

“No! Dad let me go!” You yelled, and as you took one last glimpse at the boy you love, who stood outside, both hands in his pockets with his cheeks flushed- the door shut closed and locked.



As it struck midnight, a tap on your window caused you to ran straight to the window and open it. Isaac slowly crept in before wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you to his broad chest.

I’m so sorry.” You whimpered, tugging onto his jumper.

He placed a soft kiss to you head and sighed, “It’s okay Y/n. nothing will make me stay away from you because you’re all I have and I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Isaac then led you to your bed before you both tucked under the blankets, with your head rested on his chest. He then wrapped an arm around you and held you close almost as if he never wanted to let you go.

“What’s going to happen now?” You whispered, as your fingers drew circles on his chest.

You felt him shrug, “I honestly don’t know.”



Hey!

Part 2?

Well, i guess i should make a part two otherwise the beginning will seem a little odd without the story leading there, don't you think?

Well, i hope you get the whole 2 weeks earlier, flashback situation. I really enjoyed writing this and it did make my heart break.

Remember- don’t let anyone stop you from falling in love.

- So follow my wattpad for when i post chapter one of wonderwall which is really soon!! and i am going to be putting it up for the watty award with three of my other boooks so please vote for them! and the twitter votes begin today to the 31st. but ill put a separate post  about that.

- wattpad- ibaby_penguin

Hope you enjoyed this imagine and let me know if you want a part two!

Snapchat- if you want to have a chat with moi! - yvieechloee

-Isaac lahey

-not my gifs

-requests are open

Yves x

P.s i miss you Isaac Lahey 

anonymous asked:

So... I have a prompt but I don't know if you are still talking them, and I figured I may as well try: Jonsa+"But time makes you bolder, children get older and I'm getting older, too"

omg I couldn’t sleep until I wrote this out. I hope you like it!!! A bit mature.

When Sansa asks Jon for their first babe; she’s nervous. She fiddles her thumbs and picks at non-existent flaws upon her gown. She’s no stranger to their marriage bed and she adores the time spent there, but she can always sense the invisible line Jon has drawn between them. He always tells her that it’s fine, that she’s his lady wife and their time together is well spent. But she knows there’s a part of him deep down that can’t get past the fact he considered her his sister for so long.

“It’s been nearly two years, Jon. I think it’s well past time we started actually trying.”

Jon grumbles something into his ale but Sansa doesn’t bother asking what he’s said. “Please, Jon. I want to be a mother. And you’ll be a wonderful father.”

Jon glances at his wife only a moment before he smiles that beautiful half-grin of his. “Alright,” he says, “Perhaps you’re right.”

xxx

It doesn’t take long for Sansa to fall pregnant, her feet barely touching the ground as she realizes. She beams when she tells Jon, no longer nervous, but excited. Jon smiles but she can still feel his hesitation; to which she smooths out with gentle kisses and quiet whispers of what she wants when they retire to bed that evening.

Jon touches her growing belly everyday, carefully, like he might break her if he caresses the bump too hard or for too long. Sansa loves these moments when she feels her husband’s hands on her in the middle of the night, sneaking beneath her night shift to feel her skin. She pretends not to hear what he says.

The babe comes in the spring, a little boy with Jon’s black curls and startling Targaryen violet eyes. Sansa is surprised, but loves him no less, cradling the baby under her chin and humming a soft lullaby. He’s a fine weight, Sam says, completely healthy with rosy cheeks and a set of lungs a grown man would be jealous of.

Sansa beckons Jon into their rooms, making room for him on the bed before she hands him their son.

“What do we call him?” She asks, stroking the baby’s chin and holding one of Jon’s arms. “I thought I’d leave that up to you.”

“Oh,” he says, gazing quietly at his son before looking at Sansa with silent tears in his eyes. “I’d like to call him Robb.”

Sansa smiles. “A fine name,” she agrees. “Little Robb.”

“I thought he’d have your eyes,” Jon says, stroking his fingers over the baby’s cheeks. “I don’t know why.”

“Well,” Sansa laughs, “There can be no denying he is your son.”

“Our son,” Jon corrects, kissing his wife.

xxx

Robb grows into a fiery toddler, rough and rugged, always crashing into things and sneaking into his parents’ bed when he’s not supposed to. Neither of them have the heart to turn him away.

On Robb’s third name-day, after the festivities and everyone in the castle sleeps, Sansa lets down her hair and climbs into bed next to her husband. “Another one,” she says.

“Yes,” Jon replies, grinning as he rolls Sansa underneath him. He kisses her neck, trailing his lips to hers as he nods. He runs his hands along her legs, pulling one around his hip as he kisses her once more.

Sansa’s pliable in his hands as he works her shift over her head, lips grazing her breasts and her stomach, his hands tracing everywhere his lips can’t reach. She arches into him as he mouths at her cunt, tracing circles and moaning at how good she tastes and how much he loves to do this. She falls apart in minutes, hands in his hair and yanking Jon up by the curls as soon as she’s come down.

She flips them easily, sliding off his small clothes before she teases herself over his cock. She’s warm and wet and everything Jon’s ever dreamed of when she finally sinks down over him. She intertwines their hands as she moves up and down, slowly, so she can keep her eyes locked on his. They’ve only fucked like this a few times; but this moment is different. The wall that Jon built falls as soon as she lifts her hips; their first son has made them bold and a different kind of love has grown.

Jon keeps her steady with their fingers locked, eyes half closed with pure pleasure as he feels his wife clench around him. “No, Jon, look at me,” Sansa pleads, swiveling her hips.

He smiles as he sits up, wrapping his arms around her waist and pushing his hips up to meet hers every time she falls back down. It’s slow and sensual, perfect really, Sansa whining in the back of her throat and Jon mumbling against her chest. Sansa catches Jon by the jaw, looking into his eyes before she kisses him, nipping his bottom lip. “Come, Jon, give me another babe.”

He’s only half-sorry that he follows her command without giving her pleasure once more before he spills inside her.

***

Jon’s with Sansa as she gives birth. It’s harder this time; the babe gets stuck half way through labor and Sansa curses every god she can think of before it’s over. Jon loses his temper with Sam, commanding him to fix it, to do something, but by the end, a baby girl comes quietly into the world.

She’s not loud like her brother, but no less healthy or beautiful. She has Sansa’s burnt auburn hair and those Tully blue eyes Jon loves so much. The little babe settles easily against her mother’s chest as Jon cradles Sansa in his arms. “What would you like to call her?” He asks, gently touching the babe’s full head of hair.

“Lyanna,” Sansa says. “For your mother.” She smiles as she looks at him, searching his face for any signs of doubt, but she finds none. She finds nothing but kind eyes and love.

And as Jon looks at his daughter and hears his son rumbling up Winterfell’s stairs, he knows their will always be more children and he’ll never regret marrying Sansa Stark.

tammyteresa64-deactivated201610  asked:

Ok :) two with separate or together. "I ain't scared of no ghosts" and "I am the one hiding under your bed" :) thanks xo

(thanks to repmet for the gif!)

“…And then the Ghost of the 2nd Earl JUMPED OUT OF THE CLOSET!”

Marigold gave a screech and buried her little face against her cousin’s shoulder.  Sybbie gave an annoyed look to her other cousin as she attempted to soothe poor Marigold.  “It’s alright, George is just telling stories.”

“It’s true!” George insisted.  “The 2nd Earl haunts Downton!” he grinned wickedly and made a menacing motion with his fingers.  “And likes to scare little girls—!”

“Well he’s not scaring me!” Sybbie insisted.  “I ain’t scared of no ghosts!”

George rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to say more, but the nursery door opened then, causing all three children to gasp, before sighing with relief at the sight of their mothers.

“Why are you still awake?” Mary asked, her question pointedly at her son.

“It’s All Hallow’s Eve, Mama!” George explained.  “Sybbie told us—”

“Another ‘Irish tradition’?” Mary turned to her baby sister who was kissing her daughter’s cheek.

“It’s not as if it’s unique to just Ireland,” Sybil insisted.  “Why, the celebration descends from the ancient Celts, so it more than likely began in Britain, up in Scotland—”

“Save me the history lesson,” Mary groaned, kissing her son on the brow and then urging him to get under his blankets and go to sleep.  

As for Marigold, she whimpered a bit and clung to Edith, who seemed reluctant to leave her.  “I’ll keep her safe, Auntie Edith!” Sybbie promised, noticing her cousin’s distress.  Sybil smiled proudly at her daughter, and Edith looked grateful.

“Come along!” Mary urged.  “Our husbands are probably wondering what’s keeping us.”

Another shadow illuminated the doorway just then, causing the three children and their mothers to gasp, and then groan as Sybbie squealed, “Daddy!”

“What are you doing up here?” Mary asked.  “I thought the three of you would be waiting downstairs—”

“Matthew and Bertie are,” Tom explained, winking at Edith who was blushing still at the reminder that she was now a married woman as well.  “But I had to sneak a kiss myself, otherwise I’d be jealous of Sybil the whole night!”

Both Sybil and Sybbie giggled and Sybbie held out her arms for her father, who stepped in and did just that, smothering sloppy Branson kisses on her cheeks, before tucking her into bed.  He then turned and gave a rather sloppy kiss to his wife, earning groans of disgust from the children, though Sybbie was used to it.

“Is the party up here now?” came another voice from the door.  

“It might as well be,” Mary groaned, before smiling at her husband and new brother-in-law who were now entering the nursery.

Both men went to their respective children, giving each a kiss on the brow before murmuring “goodnight”, and Marigold seemed to brighten considerably after this (she was very fond of Bertie).  

“George is telling them ghost stories,” Sybil whispered to Matthew.

“Ah, I see,” Matthew gave his son a stern look.  “I hope you’re not trying to frighten your cousins and give them nightmares…”

“No, Papa, it’s just All Hallow’s Eve, and Sybbie said—”

“So this is your fault?” Tom asked his daughter, before giving her a little wink to show he wasn’t serious.

“George says the ghost of the 2nd Earl haunts Downton.”

“Sybbie!”

“George…” Mary groaned before turning to the rest.  “Children, there are no such things as ghosts.”

“But there such thing as a dragon, which is what your grandmother will become if we’re late,” Bertie observed to his wife.

“True,” Mary confirmed, agreeing with him.  “Alright, all of you get some sleep—good night!”

The children murmured their goodnights once again and watched as their parents exited the nursery.  However, before the Bransons left, Tom did whisper into his daughter’s ear, the special blessing her Irish grandmother had taught her to scare away anything that tried to frighten her.  With nothing but the soft, orange glow of the fire burning in the fireplace, the children were left alone.

Quiet filled the nursery then…though George swore he heard something making a “thumping” sound.  He sat up in bed and looked over at his cousins.  “Do you hear…?”

Marigold gave a little squeal and leapt out of bed, before flying into Sybbie’s.  “It’s the ghost of the 2nd Earl!” she screeched.

“Don’t be silly,” Sybbie assured her, before turning to George.  They heard the sound again, and George swallowed the lump in his throat—it was coming from UNDERNEATH HIS BED!

Sybbie glared at the bed, ignoring the petrified expression on her cousin’s face, and shouted the blessing her father had whispered to her in the language of their homeland, and the thumping suddenly came to a stop.

They all waited, holding their breath…

Nothing.

“It’s gone…” George whispered.

“Can I stay with you?” Marigold whimpered, looking up at Sybbie with large, imploring eyes.  Sybbie just smiled and kissed her cousin’s forehead, before pulling the blankets up around them.

“Maybe I should join you?” George offered, trying to sound braver than he felt.  “Just to protect you girls.”

Sybbie rolled her eyes, wondering what her mother would make of that if she heard George, but knew all too well that it was his back-handed way of admitting he was scared.  “Fine,” she sighed, scooting over and making room.  Soon, all three cousins were huddled together in Sybbie’s bed, the blankets pulled up to their chins, and after a moment, they were all soon asleep.

A few hours later, when the party had ended, Robert (or “Donk” as he was now known to all his grandchildren) decided to peek in and see them.  Sybil accompanied him, and when they reached the nursery, she gave a groan and a sigh at the sight of them together in bed.  “Just as I had feared, I think the ghost stories got to them.”

Robert frowned.  “Why are they all in Sybbie’s bed?”

Sybil smiled proudly.  “Well she is the oldest, so perhaps she’s also deemed the bravest?”  She shut the door then, and proceeded to tell her father about the so-called “ghost of the 2nd Earl”, the story which George had been telling to spook his cousins.

Robert frowned.  “There’s no ‘ghost of the 2nd Earl’.”

“Exactly, Papa.”

“If anything haunts that nursery, it would be Pharaoh!”

Sybil frowned.  “What?”

“Don’t you remember?  Pharaoh was always trying to get into that nursery when you and your sisters were children.  He especially liked to get under Mary’s bed and she would complain about the loud sounds his tail made when thumping against the floorboards.”

“I honestly don’t remember, but maybe I was too young?”

“That might be…” he recalled.  “Yes, you were barely a year old, when Edith and Mary got into a terrible fight—” Sybil rolled her eyes.  “—because Mary tried to spook Edith by telling her there was a monster in the room that lived under her bed, but then Pharaoh got under Mary’s and frightened the both of them—”

“Perhaps Pharaoh’s ghost remains?” Sybil offered.  “Thumping his tail under the bed of Mary’s son?”

Robert chuckled at that, though it was clear he didn’t believe it.  Sybil, however, wasn’t entirely convinced.  After living among the Irish, both in Dublin and now in Boston, she wasn’t as skeptical to tales of the supernatural as she might have been before marriage.  Though of all the ghosts that were out there, the ghost of a friendly Labrador hiding under one’s bed was rather sweet.