for all those who wished me a happy birthday and followers

Here’s all the things that I’ve been working on. (Have fun scroling.)

1st: The people that I follows A.K.A my senpais:

@nekophy - First and for most, you’re amazing. Your art is beautiful in every piece. Your OCs are cute and adorable. You YOURSELF is amazing a hyperactive. Keep on being a cute little stick cat! Also I want to draw you as a cat and not a stick cat so sorry for that

@angexci - I can’t say how wonderful you are in any way possible. Your traditional are perfect, but your digital art is so awesome! You are amazing, everytime you post something, either a shitpost or an art piece, I love it all. So continue being a cool bird!

@jakei95 - One question, HOW. THE HELL. ARE YOU. SO FREAKING CALM?? Okay, you’re really, AWESOMELY cool. Your characters are cool, cute, awesome at the same time. Your art is TOO COOL, OKAY?? Also, you’re funny, like EXTREMELY FUNNY. Please continue on being a funny and cool potato! :3 I dunno I drew the background galaxy

@gabi4chan-akatsuki - I know your blog is not art related but I like Vocaloid and your Vocatale AU. I ADORE your Vocaloid covers, it sounds amazing. So just keep on tuning!

@wilyart - I know you don’t post much, but you are still amazing. I don’t have much to say aside from that your art are fabulous.

@kyashee-art - I. LOVE. EVERY. PIECE. OF ART. YOU MAKE. THAT’S ALL I COULD SAY. I can’t say anymore than compliment your art. I made this before you changed your mascot so oops.

@trashy-artzy-me - You’re one of the best traditional artist I’ve ever know. Personaly I feel that you’re cool :). Keep on being amazing!

@blogthegreatrouge - I can’t say you’re cool and amazing enough. You’re the first person i followed, the person that I made my blog for, the first person that I actually motivates me to post on Tumblr. Your art are all from the heavens. Except those sin art. So I hope you never give up and continue on!

@renrink - *inhales* YOU ARE SO COOL. Especially your AU, Reapertale is so cool and I’m waiting for your stuff. Your art are so goddamn wonderful, like DAYUM. I once tried to color like you but I failed so bad, I deleted it. :P. Just continue on being a cool dude gal!

@walkingmelonsaaa - I can’t say your art is amazing enough. Your lines, your coloring, your porotions! It’s beatiful! You are an art goddess to me, to everyone who knows you. So keep on making amazing art! I didn’t know what to draw for the background so I tried and it sucks >:(

@zarla-s - To be honest, I know you from Quotev XD, I read your fanfictions and I’m still waiting and I read the comics and I compared it and I’m surprised. Anyways, your art are so cute, espescially the skelebros! I want to say you’re great! Continue on!

@golzy - I know you’re on hiatus but I wanna say that I want feels too :3.I love your art, you’re talented at a young age. I’m cheering for you! I drew you in your Gay Daddy outfit with some fixing—

@camilaart - Through all the things that happened, you pushed through and fly up above! I wish you would never give up! Ever!

Sapphire by @sapphirescarletta123

Rey by @reyindee

@yugogeer12 - You’re from a cool gal to cute bean. AN ADORABLE BEAN!!! Your art are so goddamn cute!! So cute man! Your Epictale AU is great and EPIC! Keep on being a mixure of a cute and EPIC!!

@allesiathehedge

2nd: People that I follows A.K.A my senpais in CHIBI FOOOOOOORM!!! XD:


Sharky by @myebi

@ania-da-peasant - Though those idiotic people send hate, send you ask that lacks inteligence. You still pushed through. You was pushed down before but you stood up and face them. So never lose hope! Stay DETERMINED!

@theodd1sout 

@owlturdcomix

@mudkipful 

@rosannapansino RosannaPansino

Perf by @perfectshadow06

3rd: For some of my followers:

@notch0607 @mkitkat @broken-tale-comic @nekokurisu @locis-didi @lazyartz @xxlisagamerxx @undertalefan1111 @anda-blr @cyberbullybro @saskiakawaiistudio @4jen

4th: My awesome friends!:

@mercury-draws-shitz - You’re great, even though it may not feel like it, it is. You’re the first one that actually made fanart for me :’DD So keep being cool!

@thekawaiichibigirl - You are a great friend, though you’re depression is bad, you’re pushing through!! I was– I mean EVERYONE was very worried, so don’t do that ever again. Those people are still hating but you’re answering them in a bad a$$ way!! Sorry Arty Just keep being who you are!!

@anndreemurr - We talk for like once and some how became friends X’DD So just wanna say that your art are everything! It’s so beautiful! So continue being cute and cool :D

@ithinkiamanartist - You’re the one that I talk to the most XDDD omg okay umm.. *inhales* YOUR COOL. You’re just like a cool big sister to me. Da coolest were cat big sister I’ve ever nyew. Your art is coot and cool just like you! Continue on being coot and cool kay sis? :) 

@armitie - Yay time for my first friend I ever made here :’D You are a little roll of memes and shitpost oh ye– You’re the meme sister and super SUPER weird. Your art is super duper cute!! ((I like slim bodies)) Though we don’t talk much, I still love you with every inch of— So keep on doin’ it!

@elamania - Time for my second friend that I made here! Where you’ve been? Nah just kiddin’ I’m not gonna joke like that. I must say that your coloring are wonderFUR!! Get it ‘cause you’re a cat? Yeah? Okay ._. 

@unlikelykingdomsuit - I know we rarely talk, but I still love your art. You’re real FURtastic! Yeah. Puns. I suck at it. But I still want you to know that care about you. Holy that sounds cheesy

@burntsalmonfishy132005 - HI LITTLE CHICKEN!! The second Vietnamese friend I made. You’re a cute little spammer. Yup - u - b Your art is adorable as heack! So keeo on being a cute little chick! ;D

@mikaru-blackspade - I know you’re banned from any social media but you’re still my first Vietnamese friend. You’re a great artist even if you don’t think you are. I wanna say keep on doin’ it!

@pandurrpink - Though we just became friends like a few weeks ago, you still counts as my dear friend. AND HOLY YOUR COLORING IS EVERYTHING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! Continue to be an amazing artist Pandurr!

5th: The youtubers that I subscribe:

Aphmau

PopularMMOs

GamingWithJen

DanTDM

LDShadowLady

JaidenAnimations

Domics

StacyPlays

Ha! I can do something better with my birthday than writing and doing this. Only llike 3 or 4 people wish me “Happy Birthday”. This joke is so lame.

Serious Squareness: an exclusive interview with Lorenzo Semple, Jr. on the creation of TV’s Batman

Holy unexpected delights! I opened my Tumblr inbox the other day to find a message from @jondambacher, and, well, let me just turn it over to him:

Screenwriter Lorenzo Semple, Jr. celebrates a birthday today (March 23rd). The following is an excerpt from a number of long interviews I was blessed, honored & ecstatic to conduct in 2008, for Lorenzo’s biography I was writing.

To the King of Serious Squareness, I celebrate you, I thank you, I wish you a Happy Happy Birthday.

Jon Dambacher: I have a quote from Dozier referring to you as “the most bizarre thinker I knew.”

Lorenzo Semple: Good.

JD: Have you ever read that?

LS: I think I have, now that you mention it.

JD: What do you think he means here?

LS: I don’t know what he means. He obviously meant it as a compliment but it’s… I don’t know what he meant. I just could think of off-the-wall things. When he showed me, as I’ve told you, when I was living in Spain writing plays with a family, he sent me a cable to come up and meet him at The Ritz in Madrid there in the garden of The Ritz, he had a very strange face, as he pulled out of his pocket a “Batman” comic book. Said, “Would you believe it, this is what ABC has given us to do, because they’d owed us one, can you believe it? He was… Was so disdainful of it. I, uh, in all honesty, I took one look at it and thought of it and said, "I know exactly what to do.” I’ll go home and I’ll write it.“ That was the only discussion about "Batman.” The only discussion. As I say I wrote it, Bill loved it, he gave it to ABC, they thought it was excellent, but they were dumbfounded by it because there was nothing like it. All those things like, “Pop!” and “Bam!” were all written into the script.

JD: That’s awesome! Did you guys just share some crazy sense of humor together–is that how you were able to create this amazing…

LS: Yeah! It’s not really that crazy once you get the note of it, you know what I mean?

JD: Okay.

LS: It’s all out of that same… That dead serious nonsense, you know what I mean? Adam was actually perfect for it and Burt in his way, too. You know, they’d be chasing somebody and Robin would say, “Park here, they just went into that building…”

JD: And there’s “No Parking” signs…

LS: “No Parking” sign, right! That kind of thing. All these come out of the same level of dead serious, squareness, if you want to call it that. Dead seriously square. That was… Which isn’t that bizarre compared to modern movies, you know, like Charlie Kaufman and things.

JD: Right.

LS: It wasn’t too bizarre. Bill probably thought it was bizarre but we’ve both recognized he was a sophisticated guy. He recognized it as being funny. He didn’t mind me thinking up all these things like Bat-Shark-Repellent or whatever it was when the shark had him by the leg…

JD: Right, the Shark-Repellent-Bat Spray.

LS: I guess you could call that bizarre thinking. To me it’s all a part of one type of thinking; do you know what I mean? Bizarre isn’t quite the word, I’d say imaginative.

JD: Okay. We were talking about favorite lines from that film specifically, one that’s stuck with me over the years–I’ve always wanted to meet the man who wrote the line, “Ah, a thought strikes me–so dreadful I scarcely dare give it utterance!”

(Lorenzo breaks out laughing.)

LS: That’s very funny, I agree! I agree! That’s the kind of thing we’ve been–you know, that pompous squareness actually. Very good hearted. Adam was a very sweet guy. A very nice guy himself and Batman, you know, nobody was killed in it and there’s nothing–except the name–in common with the Batman franchise, the Warner Brothers ones. The people who say, “What do you feel about those movies” always expect me to say something, I say, “Actually I don’t like violent movies particularly and I stay away from them.” The Batman I wrote has nothing to do with these movies–really has nothing to do with each other… My Batman is more in the spirit of the comic and the very fact that millionaire Bruce Wayne, that’s all you have to say… The fact that you refer to him as Millionaire Bruce Wayne, I mean…

JD: The Millionaire Philanthropist.

LS: The Millionaire–thank you! The Millionaire Philanthropist. I had forgotten that. Just the fact that you’d refer to anybody like that–if you’re sophisticated it shows immediately–it’s ironic at best.

JD: That squareness.

LS: You’re right. That’s what I mean. The squareness, exactly.

Call Boy Johnny (Johnny x Reader)

Rating: M 

(A/N) THE MOMENT OF TRUTH HAS ARRIVED PEOPLE. THE SCENARIO YOU HAVE BEEN BEGGING ME FOR OVER AND OVER, I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED IT. HERE HE IS, IN ALL HIS GLORY. CALL BOY JOHNNY! I hope you all enjoy this one as much as I did writing it!! I’M THIRSTIN’ SO HARD RN

P.S. Yes, I’m the same blog as the original Call Boy Yuta smut. I changed my url from @chokemewithjaehyunschoker to @caliboyjaeffrey ! Hope no one get’s confused lol

Originally posted by y-ta

You woke up slowly, the sheets and blankets kicked off in your sleep and tangled in your legs. You felt content as you looked over at your alarm clock, the time being in the late afternoon.  Sleeping in was your passion, you’d stayed up super late the previous night anyway, not too bothered that half the day was gone. You gazed out the one big window in your bedroom, the one that looked out at the bustling city. Snow had fallen last night, dusting over the streets and cars like powdered sugar on pancakes. It didn’t really feel like your birthday, but it wasn’t so bad to wake up on a day as pretty as this one.

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Huntress in the Snow

What if Rhys had met Feyre back when she was still a little girl, alone in the woods and hunting for her family? Inspired by this beautiful work of art, here’s the hypothetical meeting between an abused, tired Rhysand and a tiny Feyre.

 

Rhysand rarely leaves Amarantha’s court Under the Mountain.

He rarely leaves her bedroom, for that matter. Life is just a frenzy of lies, sex, dancing, drinking, hatred and torture these days and he has long given up on making his existence bearable. He doesn’t really care anymore.

He doesn’t care for the stares they give him, the names. He doesn’t care for those pitying glances. He doesn’t care when Amarantha is straddling him, using him, her fingers pulling his hair.

Spring Court is covered in masks right now, but Rhysand might as well be wearing one, too. He doesn’t recognize himself in the mirror anymore. He murmurs things in her ears, he lies, promises, he kills on her behalf, he smirks and laughs and betrays, and he isn’t sure he can ever get back from that.

He’s doing it for Velaris and his beloved ones. That is what he tells himself, over and over and over again, when he’s buried inside her or when he snaps someone’s neck. It’s the only reason he’s still holding on. Velaris. Mor. Amren. His brothers. His court.

Court of Dreams. It’s like a bitter joke, ashes in his mouth. He doesn’t know if he will ever see them again. Doesn’t know if he wants to- after what he’s done.  

He probably won’t ever see them again. This nightmare will never end.

Life is miserable. Rhys doesn’t care.

With the way things are developing right now, his old enemy Tamlin is going to join them in a few years- 42 years have passed and that fool, that idiotic fool hasn’t managed to break the curse. If he realizes that he could save them all, Rhysand doesn’t know. Perhaps Tamlin is just trying to protect those he loves as well. Perhaps he’s trying- perhaps he’s fighting.

Perhaps he’s not.

Rhysand doesn’t care.

He also doesn’t care that Amarantha sends him to the human realm today. To find a group of fae from Dawn Court that have escaped; find them, bring them to her, watch her torture and kill them and fuck her afterwards. It’s nothing to him. He’ll play his part. He’ll be urgent and passionate- I’ve been aching for you, my queen, my everything, woman of my dreams- only you, only ever you- he’ll make her scream his name and kiss her afterwards.

All the while, he’ll be somewhere else. He’ll be talking to Amren, quietly. He’ll be drinking with Cass and Azriel, playing cards. He’ll be dancing with Mor. He’ll be walking through the streets of Velaris.

That’s the only thing he has. And even those memories are further and further away from him with each passing day. Rhysand is afraid that he’ll wake up some morning and find that there’s no fight left inside him- that he’ll just give up.

He looks around.

He’s in a forest, close to the wall. It’s spring, but snow still covers the trees and the ground. He will encounter no humans here- none of them would be so foolish, so daring to get this close to the wall. He sits down next to a stream, closes his eyes and just doesn’t think. A few, scattered moments of peace- he takes what he gets.

Just a few moments. Then he’ll hunt those poor bastards down.

Feyre is twelve, and she’s been roaming this forest for a year now. She’s been following the village’s hunters; copy the way they set their snarls, carry their bows. She has a dream: she’ll hunt so much food her father will get better again. Nesta and Elain will get fatter, rounder, and they will both find very handsome men to marry. Then it’ll be Feyre and her father, and she’ll hunt for him while he reads at home, and in the evening, she’ll cook for him and paint a little.

So far, she hasn’t ever shot anything bigger than a rabbit, and that one time was on accident. The snarls are what works better.

Nesta turned fifteen yesterday. Feyre knows her sister has hoped their father would say something, but he has forgotten all of their birthdays. Nesta has looked like murder all day long. Elain tried to talk to her, but she locked herself in their room.

Elain and Nesta are very sad, Feyre knows that. They remember more of their mother and they talk about her sometimes, exchanging bits and pieces of who she used to be. In the beginning, right after they moved into the little hut at the village’s edge, they tried to be there for her- but they have too much to worry about, now. They never even play with each other. They don’t thank her when she brings food home.

Feyre makes her way through the trees. She must always stay away from the wall- dangerous creatures are there, fae. She’s so afraid of them she has nightmares sometimes.

But today, some inner voice tells her that the wall is not dangerous. That no fae will hurt her. And almost by themselves, their feet make her walk closer and closer to the buzzing, invisible thing that separates their human world from the fae.

When she comes onto a clearing, she sees a man. He is sitting on a fallen tree branch next to a river and his head his lowered, almost as if he were praying. He doesn’t carry weapons, but his clothes are fine and elegant- he must be a rich merchant, lost in the woods.

Perhaps she’ll get a reward if she leads him out of here. Curiosity gets the better of her. “Are you okay?”, she calls over to him, and that is the exact same moment he looks up and meets her eyes.

It knocks the breath out of her. He’s a fae. His ears are long and pointed, and there is something otherworldly in his features that marks him as different.

This is it. She is going to die. Nesta and Elain and her father will starve because she’s not there anymore. How could she be so careless, hunting so close to the wall?

The man takes in her unwashed hair, her threadbare clothes, her make-shift bow. “You should not be here”, he rasps. “You should run.”

Feyre tries to be a still as she can be. The man doesn’t get up, doesn’t come closer. As if he knows that she’ll start screaming if he does.

“Go”, he commands, angry. “Don’t ever come here again. Understand me? Don’t go into the forest at all. Stay at home.”

And she should do just that, run until she’s far away from him, but…

“I have to”, Feyre says. “I have to hunt.”

“No, you don’t. A small girl like you should stay with her family.”

“You don’t understand.” She steps closer, her bow still ready in her hand. “My family will starve if I don’t. I am doing all of this for them.”

The man breathes in, sharply, and she swears that she sees devastation in his eyes. “What?”

“My father can’t take care of us.” Why the words are spilling from her mouth like that, Feyre doesn’t know. “And my sisters are scared. I have to be strong, even when I’m afraid- for them.”

The man stares at her.

“Are you going to hurt me?”, Feyre asks. She tries to hide that she is scared of that fae. She tries to pretend that she could shoot him, if she wanted.

He shakes his head, slowly. “Of course not.”

“What are you doing here, then? Shouldn’t fae be on the other side of the wall?”

The man smiles a bitter smile. “Usually, we should. But I…was allowed a little freedom today.”

“Are you a hunter, too?”

He closes his eyes. “I suppose.”

“Then you’re a little bit like me.”

“Well.” He laughs. “Not really. But I am doing this for my family, too. All of this.”

Feyre doesn’t know why, but for some strange reason, it makes her very happy that the man has a family. That he’s not alone.

“That’s good”, she smiles. “You should go be with them, not sit in the forest by yourself.”

He nods. “You’re right, of course. As should you.”

Feyre steps as close to him as she dares. The fae is very pretty, she realizes. All the older village girls would probably be in love with him. But he looks sad, she thinks, and she doesn’t know why, but it makes her heart ache a little. She wants him smiling.

“Here.” The fae nods his head and suddenly, a basket filled with bread and meat appears in the snow. “Take that home to your family. It should give you enough food to eat for the next few weeks. I can’t- I wish I could do more. But my hands are quite literally tied.”

“Is this some sort of trick?”, Feyre asks. “Some bargain? Some fairy magic?”

The fae shakes his head, a flicker of amusement on his face. “No bargain, little girl. Although I’m impressed you’re already so wary for your age.”

Feyre picks up the basket. This is better than the time she shot the rabbit. This is all of her birthdays combined. “Thank you- what’s your name?”

“Rhys”, he says, looking at his hands. “That’s what my friends call me.”

“That family you told me about?”

“Yes”, Rhys says softly. “My family.”

Feyre smiles at him. It comes so easy, the smile- because something deep inside her core tells her that she doesn’t need to be afraid of him. And she trusts that. “Thank you, Rhys. Your family is lucky to have you. You just saved mine today.”

He still looks so very sad. “Then that’s something”, he says hoarsely. “Before you go- one thing.”

And suddenly there are talons in her head, and she can’t move anymore.

“It’ll be over in a few moments”, Rhys says. “But I can’t let you remember me. She’ll find out, somehow. She’ll break you just for fun.”

Some white blanket is thrown over her mind, and the next second, Feyre finds herself alone in the woods.

What just happened? Why is she here?

Oh, yes- she remembers- the rich merchant who she met on her way here showed mercy and handed her the basket-

What on earth is she doing so close to the wall?

Feyre turns around and runs. Today is such a good day. She feels happy, not just because of the gift…but because of something else.

And maybe she can get through all of this.

Maybe she’ll find a way out of this someday.  

Rhys has never done something like this, but he forces himself to forget her. He pushes her image into the very, very back of his mind, he uses his magic on himself and forces himself to forget about that girl in the snow, that tiny, little huntress.

Because for some reason, he knows that she is important. For what, he doesn’t know. But he’ll do what it takes to keep her hidden from Amarantha.  

It makes him cry out in pain to use those talons on himself, but-

Rhys finds himself standing somewhere in the forest.

Why is he still here? He should go- hunt those Dawn fae down.

There’s a weird feeling of goodness in the back of his mind. Of happiness. And he remembers- that those he loves are out there. That somehow, someday, he’ll see them again. That there is a reason for everything.

He feels hope, and he doesn’t know why.

I have to be strong, even when I’m afraid- for them, whispers a voice inside his head. He knows who said it-

A girl-

He can’t remember. But that feeling lingers.

That night, when Amarantha is on top of him, moving and moaning about how good this feels after a kill, all he can think is the clock is ticking, you bitch. You’ll go down soon. Someone will come and end you.

When she leaves him, he showers and washes her scent off him. Someone is out there, he thinks. Someone good. This world is not completely lost. And for some reason, he cares again. Cares about what happens. Cares about who wins. Suddenly, he wants to fight.

That night, he has the strangest dream. It’s a hand, unpacking a basket full of bread, apples and meat. A small hand; a child’s hands. But it makes him so inexplicably happy he thinks about that dream for days.

A few years later, when Rhysand has long forgotten about everything, he dreams of that same hand again.

Only this time that delicate, female hand is drawing flowers on a table.

And something inside Rhysand whispers, soon.

Soon.

Soon.

Birthday boy

A one shot with a surprise birthday party and a sub Harry

WARNING: SMUT

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I highly doubt this will reach an audience, I mean I have like no followers. But. I have to try.
In light of 13 Reasons Why coming out on Netflix, I’ve been reminded lately all to well of my own past. And I wish teenage me knew then what I know now. I wish SOMEONE would have told me that there is indeed light at the end of the tunnel.
I am a suicide attempt survivor. Not just once either. I attempted to kill myself SEVEN times, and did not succeed. And for that, I am grateful. Now stick with me, this is a long story.
I was the girl in the back of the classroom that no one liked. I was called parasite. People spread untrue rumors that I was a whore and I was easy (fun fact, I was a virgin until I was 17). I had no friends. I discovered the internet at the young age of 10 (2005 for you young ones that don’t agree 10 is young). And when I was 14 I became the victim of a very cruel internet joke. I met a guy online, or so I thought, his pictures were fake and I didn’t know. I printed them off and put them in my binder at school and proudly bragged of my new boyfriend. The other kids realized “he” was fake before I did, they made fun of me relentlessly, I was devastated. When I was 16, a boy in my class said “If you think Laren should kill herself raise your hand” and all but one person raised their hand. No one thought about how their words would stick to me well into my adult years, no one realized how vividly I would remember all of that, and no one cared. Absolutely no one in that school cared if I lived or died, at least not the kids. My 17th birthday should have been a good memory, I finally had a friend and I had her over that night and it was AMAZING. Until some kids from school had somehow got my number and called that night, I’m thankful that I don’t remember what they said anymore. But it didn’t end there. After a 3 year on and off relationship that was horrible, I was entirely too naive and forgiving but I don’t want to go into it, I moved on. And that, my friends, is where I found the light and all the bad became worth it because of the good. I met the man who is now my husband. It didn’t take long to realize he was my soulmate, you may not believe in those; I didn’t either until I met him. In October of 2015 I found out I was pregnant. I was overjoyed. And nervous, I think that’s a natural side effect of finding out you’re growing a life. I had a rocky pregnancy, but June 9, 2016 my beautiful daughter was brought into this world. That moment that they tell you to wait for? That was mine. That was my blinding happiness, the start of a whole new chapter of my life and for the first time I was able to put my past behind me. Shortly after she was born, I got married to her father. The most loving and dedicated man I have ever met. And I’m happy. I’m finally truly no strings attached happy. All the pain I suffered, all those years I wished for nothing but the end, every single moment that led up to this, was worth it. I sit here and watch my daughter play, and read her a bedtime story and watch her learn and grow and I am SO glad I failed.
Your pain will end. Your life will be bright. Don’t snuff out your flame early, please, just trust that this world is going to be a good place for you very soon. Keep on holding on.

Faking It

Summary: Killian Jones had just been joking when he’d told Emma Swan they were actually married. But in his defense, the doctors hadn’t mentioned that her concussion had given her amnesia.
Rating: T
Notes: Happy birthday, @lifeinahole27​! You are an amazing friend, and I’m so happy to have you in my life! I hope you like this story! Thanks to @optomisticgirl for the beta-read!

AO3

Based on the prompt: "You’re my best friend who’s just waking up from a concussion, I played a trick on you and said we were married and you have amnesia … but you just rolled with it and now I don’t know what to do.“


Killian had never been so terrified in his whole life. He’d known something like this would happen eventually, he’d warned her countless times, he’d made sure to have a plan in place. And yet when it finally happened, he felt entirely blindsided and paralyzed with fear.

Emma Swan was in the hospital.

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13 Going on 30 (Part 3)

Summary: When your 13th birthday party goes awry, and you make a life changing wish - you wake up to discover you’ve flash forwarded 17 years ahead. 

Word Count: 1,719.

A/N: This part was super fun to write! Hope you enjoy, and feedback would be greatly appreciated. (also can we take a moment to appreciate this beautiful gif)

@spidweeb - you’re a gem, and thank you so much for always being a great help.

Part 1 Part 2

Originally posted by rohgers

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Soulmates || Kim Taehyung

Originally posted by sweaterpawsjimin

Word Count: 2.8k

Genre: Angst


Soulmate. A person with whom you have a strong connection with when you meet, someone you’ll always find your way back too.

They say that on midnight, of your twenty first birthday, you can see the ink appear from underneath your skin and create the pattern of the name, belonging to the person who you were destined to spend the rest of your life with. Millions of people in the world spent years looking for the person who had their name, wondering who would be the one they would spend the rest of their lives with.

You had thought you found yours before you had turned twenty one. It was normal for teenagers to date and experiment, but there was only one person you had ever been completely in love with, and his name was Kim Taehyung. He was a couple years older than you, but there was something about him that drew you in, something that kept you so captivated that you had completely forgotten about the whole soulmate thing.

It was only when it was nearing his twenty first birthday, and you were only eighteen, that everything seemed to take a turn for the worst. It seemed that the days leading up to his birthday, he was getting more and more antsy, ignoring you, not hanging out with you. And it hurt, because you were so completely taken by him. You were immersed in who he was and you were sure it was him who you were supposed to be with.

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only fools fall for you (I’m a fool)

pairing: jikook

rating: nc16

genre: soulmate au, angst & fluff, implied smut

a/n: for day 7 of #jikook fluff week <3 combining the name tattoo au with this song & post! yall might wanna grab a fluffy bolster/stuffed toy to hug :^))) ahh I’m not even sure this came out coherent omg anyway, comments and notes are very much appreciated u ____ u please enjoy~

summary: “Those who pretend as if they don’t love you,

are the ones who would hate to see you love another person.”

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Affectionate // Cheryl Blossom

Summary: Following a tragedy you move in with your guardian, Sheriff Keller and his reluctant son. Over the course of Freshmen year Cheryl and you fall in love despite her parents viewing of her sexuality but will you ever truly be accepted in your new family?

Prompt #14: Okay, so I kissed you to get a girl off my back but it turns out I can’t stop thinking about you

Characters: Reader x Cheryl Blossom, Reggie Mantle, Sheriff Keller, Kevin Keller, The Blossoms, Betty Cooper and Jughead Jones.

Words: 2763

Disclaimer: I do not own Riverdale or the characters involved.

Warnings: Swearing, Cliff and Penelope Blossom, same sex relationship, drinking, mention of death and angst.

Requested: Yes. Anonymous.

Author: Caitsy

A/N: I conjoined two requests into this because it fit perfectly! I hope you enjoyed this. Add us on snapchat: caitsyandash

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Originally posted by namiiswan

Freshmen year was tough for Cheryl Blossom, her family was only just beginning to fracture under the disappointed of her parents. Jason was strongly telling their parents he didn’t want to take over the business and Cheryl had admitted to her parents why she wouldn’t date the red headed teen sent to their home for two weeks. The Blossoms and Denali’s had been friends since Penelope and Sarah were toddlers and when both became pregnant the families came to a decision. The Blossom daughter would marry a Denali son to bring the families together for mutual financial pros, the red hair, and to make Penelope and Sarah legally family.

When Liam Denali came to learn the family business and meet his betrothed it had been to the discomfort of Cheryl. The thing was that while Liam was okay with the made future, Cheryl wasn’t because she wasn’t into Liam. Cheryl preferred females instead of males and when she told her parents shit hit the fan.

“No way. This had been in agreement since Sarah and I found out we were pregnant. Young lady you will ignore those feelings and marry Liam.” Penelope sternly told her daughter.

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April Fools

The last day of March came and went, as usual, with no acknowledgement of John’s birthday.  And then the murders began.

John was awakened on the first of April by the sound of Sherlock’s feet pounding up the stairs, soon followed by the sound of Sherlock’s fist pounding on his door.

“Triple homicide, John!  Get dressed!”

“Do I have time for a shower?”

“Yes, but make it fast.  We have a train to catch.”

“Where to?”

“Brighton — I’ll explain on the way.”


“How did Lestrade end up with this case, if the murders happened in Brighton?” John asked.

“The three victims were uni students from a missing persons case that’s been sitting on his desk for a week.  He wasn’t giving it much attention, since he figured they’d just gone off for a lark.”

“Okay.  But they’re no longer missing, so Lestrade’s case is closed, right?  Shouldn’t the Brighton police be investigating the deaths?”

“They are.  But there’s a fourth student who went missing at the same time.  He’s likely either the killer or in danger of becoming the next victim.  Either way, we’re going to track him down.”

“Got it.”


Their first stop was Joe’s Cafe, where Sherlock insisted John order brunch so that they would blend in.  Next, the case took them up the i360 observation tower, with breathtaking views along the coast, over the South Downs, and across the English Channel.  Then came a long walk along the stony beach, where Sherlock searched for clues while John enjoyed the fresh air and the rare April sunshine.  

They wound up on the pier, retracing the steps of the missing (or unfortunately found) uni students.  As they wandered through the Palace of Fun, Sherlock encouraged John to play a series of random-seeming arcade games.  Then they headed to the theme park, where they rode the ghost train through the Horror Hotel, followed by the Air Race and the Turbo Coaster.

John was having so much fun that he’d almost forgotten they were on a case.  “Care to fill me in on your deductions so far?” he asked.

“You know I never like to theorise ahead of the data,” Sherlock said.  “Go get some fish and chips over there.  Look away as he’s making change, and then bring me back the coins he gives you.  I think I’m on to something.”

John did as instructed.  He devoured the mouthwatering battered fish as Sherlock carefully examined the coins John had handed him.

Sherlock’s eyes lit up.  “How are you at laser tag?” he asked.

“You know I’m a crack shot.”

“Come on, then!”


Half an hour later, they were battling their way through the LaserZone.  John whooped as he zapped one hapless teenager after another.  By the time the game ended, he was giddy with exhilaration.  

“You racked up a record high score,” Sherlock pointed out.

“You weren’t too shabby, yourself.  We make a good team.”

Sherlock grinned at him, then checked his phone.  “Text from Lestrade.  The fourth student just turned himself in.”

John’s mood was too good to be spoiled by Sherlock’s mutterings about Lestrade having wasted their time, or by the fact that he leapt out of the cab in typical fashion the moment it pulled up in front of 221B, leaving John to pay the driver.  John was humming to himself as he made his way up the stairs to their flat.

“SURPRISE!”  

John’s mouth fell open at the sight that greeted him.  A huge banner reading HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOHN hung across the far wall.  Dozens of his friends surged forward to draw him in, plying him with food and drinks, gifts and conversation.  

Beaming, John raised a glass to them all.  “Happy fucking birthday to me!”


As the party finally began winding down, John turned to Lestrade.  “Cheers.  That was a bloody brilliant April Fools joke, you sending us on a wild goose chase so you could pull this off.”

“I wish I could take credit, mate, but this whole thing was Sherlock’s idea.  He’s been organising it for weeks.  He put Molly in charge of the decorating, and Mrs. Hudson in charge of the food.  I just helped out a bit with the guest list, and texted him when we were nearly ready.”

John was stunned.  Sherlock had done all of this?  Sherlock, who never acknowledged anyone’s birthday?  Sherlock, who scoffed every time John mentioned how much he liked Brighton, insisting that it was touristy and overrated?  Sherlock, who despised social gatherings?  

Sherlock had done all of this.  For him.  

Oh…  

John looked around, but couldn’t spot his flatmate.  Sherlock was probably hiding in his room, overwhelmed by the festivities.  John tapped on his door, and then let himself in.

Sherlock rose to greet him.  “Are you enjoying the party, John?”

“Yeah.  But I’ve been a fool.”

“For not catching on to my clever scheme?”

“No.  For waiting so many years to do this…”

John stepped forward, placing one hand on either side of Sherlock’s face.  He looked up into those familiar eyes, asking a silent question.  Seeing the answer he’d been hoping for, John kissed Sherlock, very gently, on the lips.

For one heart-stopping moment, the two of them stood together, frozen.  Then all of John’s birthday wishes came true: Sherlock kissed him back.


Written for the @sherlockchallenge April prompt: April Fools’ Day.

Tags under the cut - please let me know if you’d like me to tag or untag you

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Let’s Talk About That Sensational Show, Shall We?

It is not without bitterness that I wish to talk about the second season of Sense8 and about the show in general.

As we all know, Netflix announced a few days ago that the show would not be back for a third season, as of now without explanation.

When I watched the first season, it took me until episode three to actually get into the story and wanting to understand it better. And then of course the end of episode four happened, and I fell in love and finished the first season in a couple of sleepless nights.

I was so excited when it was announced that we would get a 2016 Christmas special, to help make the waiting more bearable. I will admit that after watching it for the first time, I felt unsatisfied, I expected more, because even though it was a two-hour special, it did not move the story forward – in fact, it felt like two hours of stagnation without proper development, despite of course a wonderful directing and soundtrack. Nevertheless, I was still happy because we got some new Sense8.

When the second season got released exactly one month ago on Netflix, I dedicated two days to watching the episodes and I was not disappointed at all.

I thought Lana Wachowski did a tremendous job, especially when knowing that her sister Lilly withdrew from the project and she had to manage practically everything on her own. I cannot pick one or even two favourite episodes simply because each one contains significant and epic lines, scenes or shots. I, however picked a few favourite scenes, which are the following:
- As the Christmas special is part of the second season, I picked the Birthday Party simply because we were, once again, shown how powerful the bond of the Sensates is, and that even though they are eight individuals, they are also “a we” and “one”.
- All of the fighting scenes involving Sun, particularly the ones when she – and subsequently the whole cluster almost died from hanging. It felt so intense I think I stopped breathing with them. I also loved the cemetery scene when she was challenging Detective Mun. They are Ying and Yang, Sun and Moon, and it is beautiful to see Sun finally being challenged and admired by a man for who she is, knowing how badly she suffered from misogynist behaviours in her corporate life.


- The montage of Wolfgang visiting the cluster to “ask for help” his own way before meeting with Lila Facchini, a Sensate from Italy who is somehow obsessed with him and will not leave him be. He is the least talkative of the cluster, and one thing I love is that they know each other so well that one does not need to voice their concerns in order to be understood, especially someone as manly as Wolfgang who would never expressly ask for help.
- The Protests montage between India/Kenya/Amanita being car chased in San Francisco. It was probably the second most tense-filled moment of the season when I actually wondered: “Is someone about to get hurt seriously?” I honestly thought something would happen to Amanita, but knowing how important she is and the value she brings to Nomi’s cluster, I knew this could not actually happen.
- Nomi’s father standing up in front of the FBI agent saying “Take your hands off my daughter”. Six words that made me tear up and still give me chills when rewatching the scene, simply because there are many transgendered, and more generally, LGBTQ people in the world, struggling to be accepted by those they love. It was empowering and truly a lesson of acceptance.

I could pick many and many others such as the moments involving our unstoppable epic trios Will-Sun-Wolfgang/Lito-Dani-Hernando, but those are the five moments that echoed the most. 

As a hopeless romantic, I loved the significant development of Kala and Wolfgang’s relationship at the end of the season. I was worried when I saw that they kept them on the backburner with few scenes compared to the other romantic pairings, but then it slowly progressed, even though I got a little bored with Kala’s indecisiveness which, inevitably, would have hurt both of the men, had she not taken a decision (Pretending isn’t a life, right?).

I also loved the scenes between Will and Riley, clearly showing that the romantic bond is heightened when they are together physically. I definitely consider them the ‘parents’ of the cluster.

As Wolfgang and Kala were finally and officially together and ready for the next step, which was hopping on a plane and meeting in Paris (thank you Rajan for buying her an apartment in one of the most romantic cities in the world), Lila had other plans for Wolfie and sold him to Whispers, who had him captured and tortured by the Biologic Preservation Organisation. The season ended with the seven members of the cluster being finally together in the flesh in London, on a mission to save Wolfgang.

Now, let’s address the elephant in the room – Netflix officially announced that Sense8 would not be back for a third season. Although there has not been an official explanation, Brian J. Smith aka Will, implied that the show was too expensive to produce and the number of viewers was not enough to support such a big global production.

From a financial perspective, it is justified, from a moral one, not so much, especially knowing the huge impact it had on people globally. Among the eight characters there is at least one you can identify with. Not only that, but cancelling it when it ended on a big cliffhanger, but also while being introduced to other members of clusters around the world calls for at least a big movie to conclude, if not a full season to explore the story of Homo Sensoriums deeper. Besides, now that the members of our favourite cluster are all together in London, the filming location could be reduced to Europe.

I consider Sense8 more than a simple show. Besides being ambitious, diverse and inclusive, it is bold, it touches upon subjects that might be uncomfortable to talk about, but still are important to discuss. It also brings many stereotypes to light, and uses those to twist them and turn them into something we would not have expected but works so well. In the current tense political and societal landscapes, it is important to remind people that diversity is what makes us rich from the inside.

Could Sense8 be the first show saved by Netflix? 


While waiting for an official explanation, there is a widely spread petition which has been signed by +400,000 fans from across the world, and it has been launched less than a week ago so it is not crazy to believe it could reach half a million by the end of the week.
In the meantime, you can still stream the 23 episodes of Sense8, and if you are not watching it yet, maybe this will help you decide.

The Black Cat

Summary: In which Dan Howell is gay, homeless, and also part cat, and Phil Lester is the nicest stranger ever.

Word Count: a whooping 9.3k!!!

Includes: an actual story, and of course, neko smut

this fic is for my best friend @ominousdan!!! it’s cayla’s birthday and without her birth nobody would be getting to see nine thousand words of neko!dan so please go follow her and tell her happy birthday in thanks (ily cayla i hope you love this and also me)

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No Matter What

Author: @dylan-trash-tbh

 Pairing: Stiles x Reader

Words:5295

 A/N: I’m actually kind of proud of this 🙈 Let me know what you think! 

A huge thank you, to my favorite co-pilot Em @fillthevoid-stilinski, for editing again 💖 

MASTERLIST

Originally posted by procrastinationoutlet

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EXPOSING THE FAKE

In case you haven’t already heard about the blog exposing-the-fakes, let me update you. It’s run by a girl who goes by the name Diana Leigh and claims she’s 21, lives in LA, and, most bizarrely, personally knows 5sos. She gives out false and sometimes worrisome information about the boys. For example, she tells people Michael self harms. How would he feel if he saw that; someone he’s never met convincing her 2,000 followers of something so serious? Although it could be accurate, she isn’t someone who would know. The only people who do are Michael and those who are actually close to him. The fact that she’s going around promising it to be true is only doing damage. On top of all that, she’s hinting towards the fact that she’s Ashton’s “secret girlfriend”. Those are just two of her lies. They don’t end there, but listing them all would take forever.

I wouldn’t be concerned about this situation if no one believed her, but for some strange reason — even though she’s never provided any solid proof whatsoever — a lot of people do. Like I mentioned before, she has at least 2,000 followers. Fans are putting their faith in her and genuinely thinking their questions and wishes will get to 5sos through her blog. It’s messed up and has left me feeling uneasy for a long time now.

So, I’m here to hopefully shut her down for good.

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how to say ‘fuck you’ in flowers.

[connor murphy x reader]

a/n: based of this au that i thought was super cute and also super fit for connor :-) sorry if it’s not that good,, im a sucky writer who’s trying their best :’)

word count: 1.9k


The flower shop had been in your family for decades. Some of your earliest took place with your parents carrying you down the aisles of flowers and succulents, telling you strange facts about them and each of their meanings–most of which have engraved themselves into your brain.

As time went on, your parents found other sources of income (since the flower shop just wasn’t enough), which left you to take care of the store by yourself. Not that you minded, of course, to you the shop was the only thing right about this broken world.

You opened today and most days with the intentions of it being a relatively slow day. There wasn’t any holiday coming up and Valentine’s day was a month ago. You figured you might get the odd husband getting flowers for an anniversary or someone getting flowers for a birthday. But for the most part, you knew today was going to be boring.

You stood behind the counter, absentmindedly watering the bouquets with the bright yellow can, staring out the window in the front of your shop watching people stroll by. Your attention was drawn to a brown-haired teenager, a look of irritation written all over his face. Maybe it was the frown etched into his face. Maybe it was how beautiful he was. But you could just about recognise the light eyes paired with the long hair, you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

The last thing you expected was for the man to enter your shop. But he did. The bell above the door rang and he stomped towards the counter, approaching you. He slammed 40 dollars onto the counter, “How do I passively-aggressively say fuck you in flowers?”

You eyebrows shot up in surprise, your mouth trying to form some sort of response but you didn’t expect those words to come out of his mouth. But you had to admit, the expletive that dripped from his mouth couldn’t have sounded sexier.

“I–um. Excuse me?” you asked, slightly confused. The man, who must have realised what just came out of his mouth, sighed. He relaxed his tense shoulders and looked you in the eye.  And you couldn’t help but notice how his blue eyes had a few hints of brown in them. Quite beautiful really.

“Sorry. That-that came out wrong.” the man said with the smallest of laughs. You shook your head.

“No. You’re fine, I just…”  you trailed off, trying to think of the right thing to say. “I just wasn’t sure if I heard you correctly. It isn’t everyday that someone comes in with a request like that.” you replied with a sheepish smile, that was returned but the beautiful boy in front of you. You could practically feel the multiple shades of red and pink creep onto your cheeks.

“Sorry,” he repeated. “It’s a long story–”

“I’ve got time. That is, if you want to talk about it.” you smiled lightly with a shrug. You really weren’t expecting him to take the offer; who would want to share something seemingly pretty personal with someone they hardly knew? But a part of you was secretly hoping he’d confide in you because who wouldn’t want to converse with a beautiful human being?

He pulled up one of the metal barstools and leaned his elbows on the counter, running his hands through his hair. “Well, I just started high school, just a few blocks from here actually–“

You jaw dropped slightly and that’s when you realised who you were talking to. Connor Murphy was sitting just opposite you. Obviously you heard a lot of talk about him through school, most people thought his was a freak but you weren’t so quick to believe that. If you were totally honest you found him quite cute.

“Your Connor Murphy, yeah? I know your sister.”



“Uh, yeah,” he sighed. “And don’t even get me started on my sister. That’s who the flowers are for.”

You nodded understandingly, though there was a twinge of surprise in your face.

“Anyway, I just started high school and it feels like my entire life is falling apart. My parents fucking hate me and their entire lives revolve around my sister, like they couldn’t give less of a shit about me. So I’m being forced to buy a present for Zoe’s birthday.” Connor laments. “I figured a nice passive-aggressive bouquet of flowers would be the perfect present.”

You laughed a bit. “That certainly is an odd request, but I think I can help you!”

“You can help me?” Connor asked, his face lighting up and you nodded.

“Of course! That’s my job.” you stood up, motion of the boy to follow you. He trailed behind you, shadowing you around the aisles of flowers, watching as you picked out a flowers.

“First geraniums which symbolise stupidity,” you say motioning to the orange-red flower. “Then foxglove for insincerity and meadowsweet for uselessness. Yellow carnations say ‘you have disappointed me’ and orange lilies for hatred.”

He watched as you effortlessly tied a white bow around the bundle of flowers and wrapped the stems in plastic.

“You know, if I hadn’t just heard all those meanings, I would’ve thought these flowers meant something beautiful,” Connor said, resting his hand on his head once you were back at the counter. You giggled.

“I mean, the bouquet itself is quite beautiful, though, if you wanted a passive way of telling someone off, this it it!” you said cheerfully arranging the flowers nicely.

“Well thanks for the help, (Y/N),” he said sincerely. You brushed it off, though you blushed at his first use of your name.

“It was no problem. It’s not everyday that I get to make an arrangement that means anything less than ‘I love you’ or ‘happy birthday’ or whatever holiday it happens to be. So the pleasure is all mine.” Connor nodded with a smile. You could see that he was wanting to ask something else, but you didn’t pry.

“That would be $25 dollars.” you said as he slid you the forty dollars he previously slammed on the counter not ever fifteen minutes ago.

You proceeded to make out his change before his voice stopped you. “No, no. You can keep the change.”

You looked up in surprise, wondering why he’d just give away fifteen dollars. “Are you sure? Why would you just give me money?”



“Will that fifteen dollars get you to show me what flower someone would buy to ask someone on a date?” he said with a shy smile not able to look you in the eye any longer.

Your heart sank slightly. There was a small sliver of you was hoping he was wanting to ask you on a date, but the chances of that happening where very minuscule. You knew you shouldn’t feel so down, you hardly knew the guy after all.

“I guess roses would be the way to do that. But I think roses are a little over done. I’d either go for  their favourite flower if you know. Or a pink carnation which means deep love or affection.” you perched your lips to the side, trying to think of something else. “Oh! Or tulips! Those represent declaration of love.” you said making eye contact with Connor, suddenly losing all the words you were going to say. “Those are my favourite for an occasion like that.” you said quietly a light blush covering your cheeks.

You handed him the bouquet of flowers he initially bought, his hands brushing against yours for a long period of time. Not that you were complaining. 


“Thank you for the help, (Y/N).” Connor said with a small smile. You nodded appreciatively as you watched Connor Murphy walk out of her shop, regret filling you to the brim, wishing you’d stopped him.


It had been a couple of days since the encounter with Connor and you couldn’t seem to get the boy out of your head. You knew it was silly. It was just a stupid little crush and you’d get over it in a few days. In school, the two of you never talked and if you happened to walk by each other in the halls the two of you would send friendly smiles to the other. You were secretly wishing he’d come up and talk to you and try to make a move, but you knew not to get your hopes up.

Thankfully, your days at the shop had been pretty busy so your mind was occupied with something other the Connor. Apparently a lot of people really wanted to get married this month for some reason.

But now it was near closing time and you decided to close-up a bit earlier than normal, not really feeling up for staying late. You turned the sign to closed and began watering some of the plants that needed it. You’d only just started when you heard a light knock on the door.

You were prepared to turn around and explain to the person, who clearly didn’t read the sign, that you were closed, but the words caught in your throat when you saw Connor Murphy. You set down the watering can and went to open the door.

“Connor, hi!” you said, not bothering to hide the surprise in your voice. “Surprise visit?” Connor shrugged and you noticed he had one hand behind his back, but you didn’t want to give it to much though, although you felt your anxiety rising.

“The flowers work out okay?” you asked and he nodded.

“They obviously didn’t know the meaning and now they’re actually acknowledging me for doing something good for once; well, my mom is, my dad still hates me. But, whatever, it did the trick.” Connor responded, ending his sentence with a small smile.

“That’s… good. But uh, what are you doing here?” you said not thinking about the words until you saw Connor’s face dim. “Not that I’m not happy to see you!” you follow up quickly.

The boy looked down at his feet momentarily shuffling, then looking back up at you. “I, um,” he started. “You remember how I asked you about flower meanings for asking someone out the other day?”

You nodded slowly. You really hoped Connor wasn’t about to tell you about that flower working out too.

“Yeah?” you said cautiously, wondering where he was going with this. You questions was answered when Connor brought his hand out from behind his back, presenting you with a bouquet of pink, yellow, and purple tulips.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“I was… sort of hoping that–well…” he struggled with his words. You reached out and hesitantly took the flowers from his hand. You inspected and a small smile appeared on your face.  

“I was hoping you might join me for ice cream or something tonight? I mean–Only if you want to! I know it’s kinda short notice but I really liked talking to you the other day. If you don’t like ice cream–“

You smiled at his rambling before cutting him off. “For your information, I love ice cream. Let me finish closing up here?” you asked.

Connor grinned and nodded.

“Feel free to sit at the counter. I shouldn’t be long.” The two of you shared a smile and your heart fluttered as you set the tulips in a pale blue vase on the counter.


ask / request something !! feedback is super appreciated *wink wonk*

burkygirl  asked:

Our absolutely amazing pal and fellow smutketeer @peetabreadgirl has a birthday on February 23rd. @xerxia31 and I were wondering if you'd be willing to accept a submission from us in her honoUr?

Originally posted by freshcravings

Happy Birthday @peetabreadgirl! By special request, Here’s a birthday drabble crafted just for you!


Biggest Fan

AN – Happy Birthday PBG! This is part 1 of 2 because your birthday is too special to cram all into one day!

Mesdames et messieurs, votre attention s’il vous plaît. Les passagers de la vol Air Canada 8637 arrivent à la gare vingt-quatre.

Peeta Mellark bobs up on the balls of his feet, eager to see around the crowd of tired commuters coming in on the flight from Montreal to Quebec city. Just a few more minutes and he’ll finally lay eyes on the infamous KatsEye, the best beta in the Avengers fandom.

And his best friend. Possibly the love of his life, but hey, he figures he probably should lay eyes on her in real life before he declares his undying devotion.

The crowd is thinning a bit now as the business crowd moves toward the airport doors, a sea of suits and muttered French. He checks his phone. Her text had said she was near the back of the plane. Surely she’ll be out soon.

Kat<3: I’m wearing an orange sweater.

When he looks up again, he sees her coming through the gate. Her aviator glasses are perched on her head and her hair is tied up in a side braid that spills over her shoulder onto the gorgeous coral sweater she’s wearing. It causes her olive skin to glow even though he can tell she’s not wearing a stitch of makeup.

His artistic sensibilities practically giggle at the idea that she’d consider the shade to be orange. It’s softer, more muted; kind of like a sunset at the end of a sultry summer’s day.

Regardless, it’s his new favourite colour.

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Flood my Mornings: Thanks

Anon said: If the stable chapter was in October doesn’t Bree have a birthday coming up?  how is she going to do with the terrible twos ?

Notes from Mod Bonnie:

  • This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.
  • Previous installment: Eggs (Attack of the Pregnancy Brain!) 

November 23rd, 1950

“Happy Thanksgiving, Frasers!” Marian Harper sang out as she opened the door.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” we chorused in return, arms full of Bree and wine and basket of lemon meringue pie.

“Oof, come in out of the rain,” she clucked, ushering us into the warmth of her cozy foyer. “Though I guess we should thank our lucky stars it’s only rain, not the blizzard they’re getting down south!” 

“Oh, aye,” Jamie agreed, deftly extricating Bree from her raincoat while still holding her. “Made it a bit slow-going on the drive over, but much preferable to snow.” 

“And the rain’s good luck for Miss Bree! Happy BIRTHDAY, sweet pea!”

Thus addressed, Bree giggled and lurched forward into Marian’s arms, surprising all of us. 

“Glad to see she’s finally getting less intent on clinging only to Mama and Da,” I laughed. 

Jamie helped me out of my coat and sweetly kissed my cheek as we followed Marian into the living room. “I suppose being properly two years of age makes a difference, after all!”


Earlier that day 

“Our wee lass doesna appear to be verra sensible of the grand occasion, Sassenach.”

I wiped my hands and turned quickly from the stove (which YES, I’d managed to turn on, thank you very much), beaming. Sure enough, Bree seemed about as interested in festivities as the average boulder. She had both arms around Jamie’s neck and was making it quite clear she was not in the mood to be up and about.

“Well, I suppose she doesn’t remember her last one, little as she was,” I conceded, coming close to tickle Bree lightly in the side. “Guess what, lovey-dove? It’s your BIRTHDAY!”

The dramatic excitement in my tone made her bolt upright at once, hair wild: curlywig to end all curlywigs. “S’bird-day?” she demanded.

“Yes, baby, it’s your birthday!”

“What-is ‘at, Mama? Mama?” She continued to screw her face up at me in concentration as Jamie buckled her in to the high chair. “What-IS ‘at, bird-day? Mama? Mama, what?”  

“It means ,” Jamie offered, settling next to her and putting out one of his hands for hers, “the day you were *born,* a leannan.”

What-is-it, ‘borrnd,’ Daddy?”

“It means the day God gave ye to Mama and me,” he said patiently, “So, it’s a verra special day, aye?”

“What-is-’at?” she said immediately, lacing her fingers together and flapping them about. “Daddy, dinna kennit. What is-’at ‘spedchill’?”

Jamie sighed, love and exasperation so perfectly mingled in that way unique to parents. “’Special’ means…the verra best. Just like you, sweet wee cub.”

“See my-dese jammies?” she chirped, changing direction with lightning speed. “Dey’re porpoor, Daddy, see’um?”

“Aye,” he laughed, “I see, a leannan.” 

She pulled at the fabric of her top. “Dey’re spedchill?” 

“Aye, those are verra SPECIAL purple Jammies,”  he said, meeting my eye and trying not to laugh.

“Your birthday,” I said significantly, walking over to them with Bree’s breakfast held high, “is the day where Mama and Daddy talk about how JUST how much we LOVE our Bree.” I bent and latched onto her sweet, dimpled cheek in a huge, long mmmmmm-ing kiss and Jamie came in to do the same on the other. Bree, caught between us in a smooch sandwich, was giggling so hard she was fit to choke.

“Those are your first presents,” I said pulling back. “Two kisses for your second birthday. And here’s the next!” I slid the plate onto the tray in front of her for inspection.

“Sassenach….That is…” Jamie looked up at me with the queerest expression on his face. “…the *Cutest* thing I’ve ever seen.”

It was little more than a circle with two lopsided ears, but I’d embellished a snout with banana slices and chocolate chips for nose and eyes, and powdered sugar to top things off. 

Yes, it was fairly bloody adorable.

Bree squealed. “Issa—Lookint-’im-that-wee BEAR, Daddy!” She hooted in delight and then began promptly to demolish said wee bear.

“You’d best slow down, mo chridhe!” Jamie laughed. “He’s going to roar in your tummy for gobbling him up so fast!” 

Bree’s mouth was so full she couldn’t reply, but there came a happy, muffled *mmphurr!?!* that signified her excitement to see this play out as soon as humanly (bearly?) possible.


“So neither of you have ever had Thanksgiving before?” Tom asked as he poured Jamie a glass of wine in the sitting room.

“No, indeed!” I settled back onto the sofa with a cup of tea. “A singularly American holiday, this one.”

Tom furrowed his brows. “But you were here stateside last year too, weren’t you, Claire?”

“Oh, yes, well….Yes, but I wasn’t in the going-out frame of mind, to be honest.”

“It was a different life, before you came back, Jamie,” Marian said knowingly, beaming from the floor, where Bree was sitting on her lap playing with her birthday present from the Harpers. “We’re glad you did.”

“As am I, a nighean,” he said warmly to her, then met eyes with me. Glad doesna even begin to express it. 

It would have been a thoroughly lovely moment, except morning sickness had come a-calling with a VENGEANCE today, and I had to close my eyes while yet another urge to vomit abated. 

Jamie noticed and made as if to come to me, but just then, the doorbell rang, followed almost immediately thereafter by Della O’Malley running head-on into Jamie and nearly spilling his wine as she barreled around the corner. He managed to catch her with his free hand, and she looked as though he’d hung the bloody moon. “Hi, Mr. Fraser,” she said breathlessly, gazing up into his face.

“Happy Thanksgiving to ye, Miss Della.” He kissed her hand, which sent her into paroxysms.  Jesus H. Christ, the girl needed a cold shower, pronto

Thankfully, though, it seemed her glow wasn’t *entirely* due to infatuation with Jamie. “Claire! Claire, guess what?” she said, bouncing in my direction.

“Peter asked you to go steady?” She’d been talking about this boy for weeks, it was about time he made a move. 

“YES!!!” she squealed, thudding into a chair next to me. “Can you BELIEVE IT!??!”

“Wine, Claire?” Tom said, coming over with a glass.  

“Oh, no, thank you.”

“Whisky, then?

“No, thank you, Tom, I’m all—” Good Heavens, I nearly burped in the poor man’s face, but managed to choke back the wave of acute nausea and croak, “— all set with my tea.” 

I could have sworn Marian gave me a suspicious look, but thankfully, Jamie came to my aid. “So, from what I gather, the festivity centers around coming together and eating in a spirit of gratitude. But that’s about all I ken of it. Is there more?” 

I had told him the story earlier that morning, in fact, but I was grateful for the diversion while Tom gave the Proud Son of Massachusetts recitation of the Thanksgiving tale. 

Jamie nodded in approval. “Thanks be to God for the kindness of the native folk, then. I must say, I enjoy hearing tales of anyone that managed to fly in the face of the English crown—Sorry Sassenach,” he added with a grin.

“Does Scotland not belong to England?” Della asked, bewildered. 

“Depends on who ye ask,” Jamie laughed. “Suffice it to say, there’s a reason the marriage between Claire and me raised no small number of eyebrows.” 

“But you married anyway,” Della swooned, “how roMANTIC!!” 

Jamie grinned and sat down next to me. “Verra romantic indeed.” He saw my pallor and squeezed my hand, speaking low so only I could hear. “Are ye feeling alright, Sassenach?” 

“Bit queasy,” I admitted, resisting the urge to clutch my abdomen. 

“Can I get ye anything?” 

“No,” I whispered, squeezing his hand. “But thank you. Just have to wait for young Fraser here to settle down.” 

He smiled and ducked his head, trying not to let the others see the direction of his tender gaze. 

We had agreed not to announce the pregnancy until the three-month mark, as was customary. We knew better than anyone that tragedy could still strike after the first trimester, but had decided that for Brianna’s sake, at least, it was best to wait until the highest risk of miscarriage was past….even though acknowledging the possibility of losing another child sent claws of fear tearing at my heart. 

But I’d carried one child safely; Lord willing, I could do so again.  

Please, Lord, keep this little one safe.

Jamie wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me closer. “I am thankful, today, ye ken?” he whispered. 

“Oh?” I murmured back, looking into his eyes, curious, but already smiling from the tone in his voice. “Whatever for?” 

“For our daughter. For you carrying her. Giving her life, this day two years ago. For—” His voice caught, just barely. “—For how ye went on living when ye didna wish to…” He gently touched my face. “For working as hard as ye do, at home and at the hospital….For being my wife. For….well…” He very discreetly touched my belly. “For our children. And for taking care of us in this new world”

I ran my hand down the side of his face, unable to speak as I kissed him. Come what might in 1951, never had I had a year in which there was so much for which to give thanks as 1950.

“I’m going to shrivel up and DIE from how much you love each other,” came Della’s tremulous threat. “Just you WAIT.”


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“Hi.”

Hope you guys like this Ari xxx *mortal au* Note: WIll is a year older than Nico

Summary: Will and Nico’s friendship over the years (i suck at summaries but i swear its good)

Word Count: 1666

*disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot* *warning: underage drinking*


“Hi.” Six-year-old Will Solace held his hand out to a small boy he noticed sitting alone in the playground. 

The boy was sitting at the edge of the concrete playground with playing cards spread around him. He had dark hair that hung past his ears and eyes that were pools of deep brown. He looked at Will and seemed surprised that someone was actually talking to him. 

“I’m Wil. What’s your name?” Will sat next to the boy, careful not to mess up the cards on the ground. 

“Nico. Nico di Angelo.”, the boy’s voice was soft and hardly above a whisper, but Will heard. 

“So, you play Mythomagic?”, and immediately after Will said it, Nico perked up.

“You know how to play Mythomagic?”, Nico said excitedly, “My sister always says that Mythomagic is lame, so I don’t have anyone to play with usually.”

“I’m not good, but I know how. My brothers taught me, but they always beat me.”, Will said, “I like Apollo. He’s so cool.”

As Nico dealed Will’s his cards, he looked up at Will with a small grin. “You can have him if you want.”

“Really?! Thanks, Nico. You’re the best.I’ll keep it forever. Promise.”, Will smiled at Nico with a blinding brightness. 

After an hour of playing and Will loosing, a man from the othr side of the playground called for Nico. Nico put down his cards and said, “I have to leave now. Can we play again, Will? I’ll see you again, right Will?”

Will was sad that Nico was leaving; he enjoyed the other boy’s little quirks and the way he talked about Mythomagic like it was the best thing ever. Will put on a smile, “Yea, of course, we’re best friends now.” 

As Nico waved goodbye, Will looked down to to the card that was given by his new friend, and on the back in messy handwriting, it said: 

If found please return to Nico

“Nico.”, Will whispered and smiled to himself.

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