god i'm sorry it's so long. ; ;

In Trousers: A Summary/Analysis

The Story

On the cast recording vinyl, William Finn wrote

The form of the show is simple: whenever things get too hot for the older Marvin, he reverts back to himself at fourteen. After 14: he has a high school sweetheart, isn’t big with the intimacies, gets married, isn’t big with the intimacies, and leaves his wife for a man. So Marvin grows up (after a fashion), says goodbye to the ladies (more to the point), and learns to live with always getting what he wants- which is the story of In Trousers.

In the libretto for the 1986 revised show, Finn added to this: “But alot of the material was about my learning to write the kind of show songs I wanted to write. So the show is about Marvin’s education, and mine.” Ira Wetizman has called it an “impressionistic portrait of Marvin.”

The Setting

A circle on the floor, an enormous Venetian blind painted blue, a wall through which ladies can disappear.

The Cast

Marvin
His wife
His high school sweetheart
His teacher, Miss Goldberg (who always wears sunglasses)

The Songs

Marvin’s Giddy Seizures - Marvin & the ladies

The first number, of course, introduces the main character, Marvin, and sets the tone for the rest of the show. Basically, it is establishing the baseline: Marvin at 14 years old (as mentioned by Finn). He’s a weird kid, who acts inappropriately, impulsively, and selfishly. He craves the attention of others, so he makes scenes by throwing tantrums or “fits” which are represented by giddy seizures. But it’s also important to note that this song is not a specific event or experience, it’s sort of an embodiment of how 14 year old Marv acts. All the ladies are on stage and singing, but they’re not really present in the action. Because there isn’t any real action.

How the Body Falls Apart - Ladies

Once Marvin is gone, they transition to his wife’s song by having the ladies sing this sort of… ambiguous declaration about life. I guess? There is again not really any action here. I mean… “things on which we most depend seem to fail us in the end” is sort of a resonant theme, I would say.

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of piano players and restaurants

Genre: can you guess it?

Words: 7.970, Jesus Christ. I need to be stopped.

Warnings: Alcohol is mentioned like… twice…

Summary: Phil is a waiter working in his best friend’s restaurant. One day, when the owners decide to hire a new pianist since their last one was a complete fail, Phil is kind of skeptical about it — can you blame him? The last pianist was insane — but once he meets Dan Howell, he realizes it’s not as bad as he thinks.

a/n: Again. One of those stories that I could’ve left at 2k but then I went, “THESE CHARACTERS DESERVE MORE AND SO DOES THE STORY AND I CARE ABOUT IT TOO MUCH TO LEAVE A NORMAL ENDING,” so yeah. God. I need lessons on how to not let myself get carried away.

This is also for my beautiful beautiful friend/wife Ravie, whose birthday is in like two weeks and a couple of days but I like to give her earlier presents. (also hi Ravie. It’s just a habit to give you longfics as presents whoops.)

(also it’s getting really ironic how I can only write cheesiness when I hear Hyper Music.)

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anonymous asked:

what do you think about the time rory and jess are dating? would you have written things differently? I was always frustrated at how dean continued to be such a presence :~

This is a really good question! I would definitely have written it differently. Honestly, I don’t think I would have totally removed Dean, because I like the idea that Rory is torn between Dean (not as a person, but as a symbol of her people pleasing and comfort doing what’s expected of her) and Jess, who is instinctually the right choice for someone reliant on the instincts of others. I really like how their ‘love triangle’ is different than the normal ‘good girl chooses between good guy and bad boy.’ 

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2

the punchline is that i still haven’t figured out how to draw allura

The Evolution of Bucky Barnes

Summary: It was weird, because he’d just be having a normal day, eating lunch with you and Steve like always and he’d glance over at you for no reason in particular, just another look like the billion looks he’d given you before, and he’d feel… Warm? Like someone had turned the thermostat up in his organs and his heart was starting to melt. This hadn’t happened in high school, why was it happening now? 

Warnings: Look, I wrote this between 2 and 7 AM this morning, so if it’s awful I’m blaming my sleep-addled brain. Other than that there’s nothing!

Word count: 2855

A/N: Sorry for the break guys! I wasn’t really planning it but it looks like I’m getting back on track by crushing two requests mixed with one of my own long-awaited ideas! Hope ya’ll enjoy it ^^

Tagging: @pleasecallmecaptain @waitingfortherightpartner @buchananbarnestrash @wydari @price-devant-la-cage @procrastinatingvirgo @sebstanshitposts @aubzylynn @generation-hated @march-mallow @dontaskmetosay-idontloveyou

Originally posted by uncensoredsideblog

As far as you were concerned, Bucky was an occupational hazard. Something you just had to deal with on a day to day basis. Not that you had anything against him per se, it was just the way he acted sometimes - like if he didn’t flirt or stare at every girl who walked past he’d collapse - or something along those lines. It was worth it, you supposed, because he made Steve happy, and happy Steve didn’t get tossed around in an alley as much. Healthy, unharmed Steve happened to make you a content camper, so you swallowed down his choice in friends most of the time. 

It didn’t help that you couldn’t go one sentence without catching the brunette gazing dreamily at a waitress/classmate/librarian/nurse/even the odd stunning lady passing him by on the street. The boy was insufferable, and you legitimately could not piece together how Steve was so close to the animal that was traipsing down the street with you.

This was the worst part of your friendship with Steve, because both you and Bucky insisted on walking with him to his front door every day after school (the bigger, meaner kids in your high school were hounds that somehow always sniffed out when Steve was alone so they could bloody him up in peace) but were stuck in each others company afterwards. It didn’t help that Bucky and you lived in the same direction, so even if you wanted to walk home alone and in blissful ignorance of Bucky’s lingering eyefuls of your pretty neighbours, you weren’t allowed the luxury.

“Could you stop that?” You seethed, catching him turning tail yet again to drool over a pretty blonde that strut past him.

“I’m not doin’ a thing.” He fired back, much more playful than your own tone. Why were boys so much trouble?

“We’re not pieces of meat strung up in a butcher shop for you to evaluate!”

“Can’t say I was plannin’ on ‘evaluating’ you, sunshine.” Which made you oddly offended, but not in the same way watching him chase the swaying hips of those poor unsuspecting girls offended you.

“Can’t say I’m not pleased to hear it. At least someone in this town won’t fall victim to your dumb teenage pining.” Despite the ice in your voice it did kinda sting, as far as you knew there was nothing wrong with you, nothing that would make you incompatible for Bucky’s seemingly endless lustful attention, but maybe you were wrong?

What did you want him to drool over you for anyways? You should be thanking your lucky stars that boy kept his hands and his eyes as far away from you as possible. Let Steve have all the caring looks and worried sideways glances, I don’t need them.

So you graduated high school, Bucky’s insurmountable hormones dropped enough for him to be tolerable, and Steve was still the same scrawny schoolyard hero he had always been. There were even some moments, far too few for them to logically outweigh all the times Bucky was an awful human being, where you could see why Steve was such good friends with him.

Like when Steve’s mom died, and you had both trailed behind Steve on your way back from the service. You were angry for about an hour at how unaffected Bucky seemed to be, for a guy who spent most of his childhood with Steve. Then you remembered that Bucky usually came over to see Steve when Sarah was at work, whereas you were practically raised by her alongside Steve.

That, and Bucky was never one to be the pessimist. He was the one who shouldered pain the way a horse pulled a carriage; with his own grief and everyone else’s all piled in the back, sheltered and seemingly unburdened as he trotted away with all the misery you thought you’d hold forever.

It was a rare moment of admiration you held for the guy.

When you went into college things started to change; though not nearly as much for you as for Bucky.

It was weird, because he’d just be having a normal day, eating lunch with you and Steve like always and he’d glance over at you for no reason in particular, just another look like the billion looks he’d given you before, and he’d feel… Warm? Like someone had turned the thermostat up in his organs and his heart was starting to melt.

You’d be walking back from Steve’s place after another inconvenient yet unpreventable alley-beating and he’d glance over and wonder when you got so pretty? Had you always been like this, and he was just too dumb to notice? Likely, and not at all improbable.

Then there was the war, and somehow that hadn’t managed to separate any of you. Steve and Bucky were soldiers - super soldiers if you were to believe the papers, and all your hard work in college paid off when you got to meet the Howard Stark, who personally asked you to work with him. Bucky remembered the grin you sported after the first meeting, watched you bouncing on your toes in pure inexploitable excitement. He was a mix of pleased and irked, because you were so adorable but this was Howard’s doing and not his.

When he started feeling like it was solely his job to make you happy was beyond him.

With the war came Peggy Carter, and lord, if she didn’t completely steal his best friend’s heart.

“Have you ever felt that before Buck? When you just look at them and it’s like getting the wind knocked outta you?” It was all Steve could do to gush about her, she was an incredible woman, Bucky was sure. Still, looking back on all the girls Bucky had gone out with, he’d never been smacked with adoration before; much less Love.

In fact, Bucky didn’t think he’d ever really been in love before. But funny how these things work, because while it was taunting the deep recesses of his mind that day, he was smacked.

By you.

And he knew on the outside it was probably because while he was considering Steve’s words his line of sight just happened to be on the backside of the bartender in front of him, but everything inside him just clicked.

It had been you for years, hadn’t it? He was just too dumb to realize that swelling in his chest whenever you laughed or smiled in his direction wasn’t a normal reaction to making someone who hated you seem like they liked you. All of the careless touches that sent odd tingles through his fingers or arms or back only came from you, every sideways glance, every second thought, every night where he got home and ended up thinking about you and how you were doing and what you were doing. Whenever his heart melted or he thought you were cute or you tucked your hair behind your ear just for it to fall back into your face a moment later, and every time he thought about helping you out by tucking it back for you. All of it was leading to this goddamn slap that managed to knock some sense into him.

“Would you please use your brainpower for something other than that poor woman’s ass?” You had gotten bolder over the years, which no one really thought was possible, but all supposed it was having to deal with Howard all day. Stark boys had always been trouble, especially in the eyes of feminists, and you might as well have written the guide book to feminism.

“Go out with me.” Bucky must’ve looked dazed, even though he was thinking more clearly than he ever had in his life. This, he thought, is something that should’ve happened a long time ago.

“Sorry?” You asked almost aggressively, like you were daring him to repeat himself. He wasn’t bothered by it in the least.

“Go out with me, on a date. Date me.” It wasn’t even a question at this point. It wasn’t a suggestion either, it was a statement. Like there was no other possible way to go from here, and for him there wasn’t. You were it, you were the Peggy to his Steve.

“How many drinks have you had?” It was shock that spoke up most in your tone, not rejection or hatred. You’d gotten over that a long time ago, you were used to dealing with Bucky the Playboy, you just weren’t used to him playing for you.

“What does that matter? Let me take you out.”

“Why, have you already slept with everyone else in this bar?” That made his heart twist, though he wasn’t too sure why. Is that what you thought of him? Is that what you thought of yourself?

“I don’t want to sleep with anyone else in this bar, and I’m asking you out on a date not a one night stand.” He thought that was a pretty decent thing to say to clear it up, but apparently it wasn’t.

“I’m not just another girl to check off of your To-Do List, Bucky.” Your chair painfully scraped the floor when you stood up, glaring down at him for a moment before turning around and leaving. Bucky was at a loss for words, really. How did he always manage to piss you off, even when his intentions were in the right place?

It was a long road to getting you to speak to him again, which is why he more-or-less kept his feelings for you in check afterwards. The last thing he wanted was to scare you off again, because you couldn’t find it in you to believe he was sincere in asking you out. It was a tough path, but it was really the only one Bucky thought worth taking. After all, any other route would lead further away from you, and that’s not something he wanted.

Meanwhile you could hardly recognize him once you did forgive him. He only ever looked at other women if they spoke to him, or if someone else had pointed them out and he sent a haphazard, hardly-interested glance their way just to nod lightly. His flirty had virtually stopped, unless he spared a line or two for you every now and again. It was like he didn’t even see girls anymore, and as much as it was enchanting, it was also worrying.

“Did you hit your head or something?” It was really not the time or place to be talking about how he was totally and entirely in love with you, what with Howard, Steve, and Peggy all crowded around the same table of finely crafted shields as you two were.

It must’ve sparked from the way he blatantly overlooked the pretty blonde uniform that was caught making out with Steve not twelve minutes ago. She was very obviously sending googly bedroom eyes at Bucky now, something he would’ve picked up on and returned in a second had he been his normal self.

“What?” He was half praying you’d drop it and half hoping you wouldn’t. What bothered him about the situation wasn’t the audience so much as it was the timing. He’d just gotten out of your doghouse, if he had to reaffirm his feelings for you and you pushed him away again he didn’t know what he’d do to fix it.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you ignore a girl for this long, so either you hit your head or you’re dying of something else. What is it?” You decided to pull one of Bucky’s favourite poses, the crossed arms, chin up, most of your weight on your right foot look. You looked amazing, and Bucky was glad he was using his forearms to support himself on the table because he was being threatened by another gust of that adoration Steve had been talking about.

How could he possibly look at that other broad when you were right there, looking fine as hell with one eyebrow raised and a pout like no one’s business? No, thank you, you were the only one he wanted to pay attention to.

And honesty was the best policy, right?

“Why should I look at her when there’s already a gorgeous dame beside me?” The second it left his mouth he knew he’d regret it, because you were staring down at him hard and your jaw was set like you were about to whip out a Tommy gun and let loose on him.

To be fair, Peggy was looking down at a shield the very same way, though they all knew it was meant for Steve and that flirty receptionist he was caught with.

“C'mon doll, I’ve already played all my cards, all I’m askin’ for is one date.” He looked up at you hopefully, though he was almost sure you’d refuse him again. It was driving him crazy - there was no way you didn’t feel the little zaps of electricity when you two touched, or the nervous fluttering of your stomach when he was around. God wasn’t so cruel as to make this a one-sided thing, was he?

“I don’t know where you got that idea from but no. I’m sure there’s at least one other girl in America you haven’t tried to be with yet, why don’t you go ask her out.” And then you left, fuming just like the first time he’d asked.

He really didn’t care that they were all looking at him as he banged his head against the table uselessly and groaned.

It was the start of a cycle. Rinse and repeat. Damage control, ask you out, watch you push away from him. Do it again. He honestly didn’t know how you kept saying no, since your main problem seemed to be you didn’t think he was dedicated in having you specifically. You suspected he just wanted a decent hunt first, seeing as how all the other girls up until now simply threw themselves on him the second his pretty blue eyes landed on them.

“I swear to god if you’re opening your mouth the ask me out again,” You warned, not even facing the same way as him but still knowing he was on the verge of doing it.

“If you’d just say yes we wouldn’t be having this problem.” Instead he’d be able to hug your waist from behind while you were working on whatever project you and Howard were working on now-a-days.

“If you’d just look around you’d find someone else to help you fix your dwindling love life. Just because I’m the closest girl to you doesn’t make it okay to use me.” You mumbled into your experiment. Bucky’s patience was wearing thin at this point, you’d gone through this over and over again, and then once more for good measure.

“Why can’t you see that I’m asking you out because I want you?” He wasn’t sure how he was using you by being in love with you, but he knew if he brought it up he’d be opening a can of worms that’d refuse to shut.

“But why would you want me with all of those other girls out there?” You were still speaking just as fiery, but Bucky could tell this was a soft spot for you. He didn’t understand what you had to be insecure over, you were absolutely perfect.

“Because I don’t see any other girls. It’s been that way since high school. I only flirted with them to get a rise out of you before I realized what this was! Now I can’t even open my mouth without wishin’ I was speakin’ to you instead.” He had stepped closer, taking your hand when you stood up straight and leading you away from your project. He needed you to pay attention to what he was saying, because he was sure if he was sincere enough for you to pick up on it,  there was no way you’d reject him again.

He didn’t think he had it in him to get shot down another time.

“I don’t know why it took me so long to figure out I love you doll, but it’s the truth. I don’t want any other girl, not for a one night stand and not for the rest of my life because it’s always been you, I’ve just ignored it until recently. Don’t turn me down again Y/N, I’m beggin’ here. I just want a shot.”

He was giving you the puppy dog eyes. He was giving you puppy eyes while holding both your hands to his chest and you could feel his heart racing against your palm. You couldn’t say no, even if you were sure you wanted to - which you weren’t.

“Fine.” His heart nearly stopped all together.

“Really?” Still with the eyes and the glimmer of hope behind them.

“Really.” You fought off the beginnings of a smile as Bucky grinned wide and proud. He let out a laugh before dropping your hands and pulling you in for a hug.

There was no way he’d let you regret this.

8

Amidst the Fall; We Bleed the Same, by @buttercup–bee ♔

When Westeros loses to the long night, Sansa finds herself at the Weirwood begging that she may begin again. To rewrite the story the old Gods and the new have given her family. With her last breath, fingers digging into the heart tree, she is sent back to the beginning. Gifted the chance to fix the wrongs that have been cast upon the name Stark and keep the long night at bay. Even so, the Gods are not so relenting. This second chance will keep her from trading history with her own ideal ending, no matter how hard she tries.

The past is already written, the ink is dry.

Requested by @gottagofastbitch

Just Another Mafia AU 3 (still needs a name)

Wow! There was such a huge reaction last chapter, I am very honoured. I really love each and everyone of you who reblogged, liked or commented. Seriously. So much. I hope this stands up to the hype though. It is actually only the first part of what was going to be this chapter, but it got so long that I split it in two. I hope you enjoy it xx

Part 2: http://classicalcassiopeia.tumblr.com/post/155393084558/another-mafia-au-2-i-need-a-title-for-this

———————


III. Newt And Percival

Curling russet hair, hazel eyes shining gold in the mid morning sun, a pale face spattered liberally with freckles. Long aristocratic nose and wide mouth. Percival felt his mouth go dry. Jesus Christ.

“Sir? I’m Newt Scamander, the owner of this practice. How can I help you today?” Oh and he sounded like an angel too. Percival barely took in his white coat, unbuttoned to the waist over a royal blue jumper and white shirt. One thought was in his mind; he had to impress this man.

“Ah, yes.” Not a great start Percival, keep going. “I just came here this fine morning to thank you.” Yes. That was good as an opener. Said what he wanted, not at all forward. Good.

“I, uh, what for? I mean, you’re welcome?” He appeared bewildered. Shit.

“Last night, you saved some particular friends of mine. I am greatly indebted to you.” Percival took the hand resting on the counter and bent over as if to kiss it. Ha! Now he had done it, dear Mr Scamander had to understand this time. And he fitted a kiss in! He basked in a glow of self-satisfaction, even as the hand was hastily withdrawn with a delightful squeak.

“Oh, no, that was no problem, Hippocratic oath and all, do no harm, help who you can, I mean, you’re very welcome, um-” the other man it himself off, blushing a very fetching pink in the face (and ears, Percival noted with delight). Oh sweet baby Jesus he was adorable. Percival kind of wanted to listen to him talk forever. “Are they well though? Your friends?” He seemed to have steadied himself and was now watching him intently with the protective gaze of a mother hen.

“Oh yes, they’re fine. The doctor that check them said it was most excellent work, highly professional. She was highly impressed. As am I.” Nice segue. He could do this. “So I was wondering if I could give you a little show of my gratitude.” He dropped his voice low at the end of the sentence. And- oh look, there was that blush. “You, me, dinner tonight? How ‘bout it.”

The redhead took a moment to respond. “I am honoured, really I am, but I don’t need your gratitude.” He met Percival’s eyes for the first time so far. Percival’s knees went a little weak. “I do what I do because I want to help people. My actions last night were taken in that spirit. If I can save even one life with my work then I consider it more than worthwhile. So I understand that you are grateful for your friends survival, and I thank you for it. But I couldn’t accept your offer as recompense for it. And I especially couldn’t accept it for dinner tonight, as I open late every other day.” Oh shit. This man wasn’t going to accept it as a debt, was too proud for that. He was goddamned perfect.

“Then will you accept it as a date with me? No strings attached, just a nice dinner. Whenever you like?” He slung out the offer before he could really think it over.

For a moment, silence prevailed. Then a little smile turned up one corner of Scamander’s mouth. “Yeah. Yes, alright. One date.” Yes! Well done Percival, he patted himself on the back. It had taken a while but he had got there in the end. He felt his face crease into a foreign soft smile.

“OK. OK, that’s great thank you so much. I can give you my number, yeah? Call anytime.” He fished a pen from his jacket pocket and nabbed a leaflet from the counter to write his number, eagerly shoving it over the counter to the other man.

“I will.” The copper head smiled at the paper and slipped it in his breast pocket, folding it gently. Percival nodded.

“Right. Great. Well, I guess I will be going then. I eagerly await your call.” He gave a slight bow and reluctantly turned to leave. He had made it out the door, whose lighthearted closing bell seemed to mock him, and had gone a few metres up the street before he heard a call.

“Wait! Wait.” Scamander had run out after him and was half out the door. “Who are you?” He called up the street. Percival paused in horror. Tina, who had gone ahead of him, was shaking silently with laughter. He turned and walked backwards, affecting a casual demeanour he definitely didn’t feel.

“Graves. My name is Percival Graves.” With a jaunty wave he stepped into the Mercedes and left Scamander on the sidewalk. An air of mystery, that would salvage that fact that he hadn’t even introduced himself.

“Wow.”

“Shut up Tina.”

“No seriously I have never seen you fuck up a conversation in quite such an impressive manner. Or recover that well either. I’m just saying, you got lucky there.”

“Oh fuck off.”

Newt, for his part, thought that Percival Graves was potentially the most attractive person in New York. When the man had first come in Newt had been in the back unloading the free flu jabs he would be offering in winter, and he had thought him just another customer. Big mistake. The moment Newt had hurried to the front and seen the man he had instantly regretted not cleaning himself up a little.

He was smoking hot. Seriously. Tall, well dressed. Broad shoulders and trim waist. Salt and pepper hair and consuming dark eyes, an air of danger. Looked like he could hold him down and just take him. Exactly Newt’s type. He had given his introduction by force of habit. And then- then he began to speak.

His voice was like silk or dark chocolate or something equally cheesy, Newt had thought, slightly dazed. Very good on the ear. Soothing. He could listen to this man recite the phone book and be entranced. He only really noted what the guy had said an embarrassingly long time after he had spoken. Newt made it through the conversation in a halting fashion, until the man had kissed his hand. The brand hot fire of his lips on pale flesh made him squeak in a manner his mother would certainly have punished him for.

Stuttering past the haze in his head and burning on his cheeks, he managed to force a focus on the twelve patients last night. None of them had been critical wounds; three gunshots, two to the legs and one in the shoulder. Seven knife slashes on the arms and abdomen. A couple of concussions he could do nothing about. It was obviously underground though, and this man said he was their friend…what if he was their squad leader? Newt couldn’t bring himself to regret his actions in saving them, a life was a life to him, but. The Mafia. The Mafia he was kind of hiding from. He had come to the USA under his own name because the underground there was very unfriendly to the British one and unlikely to give him away to his family out of spite, if nothing else.

Then this man had offered Newt dinner. Now, Newt would very gladly have dinner with him. It may be a bad decision given his past, but Newt was a master of bad decisions. It was practically his MO. However, the slight the offer cast on him, the way he had implied Newt would have to be recompensated, like the men’s survival and wellbeing wasn’t payment enough. He could not let the man continue with that opinion of him. Thankfully, his rebuttal hadn’t put Percival Graves off at all. If Newt was any judge of behaviour then the man had seemed even more eager to have dinner.

He had given in. Percival seemed attracted to him, he was definitely attracted to Percival. Why not? Giving his permission and receiving a number in return, he was entranced by the smile on the other’s face. He seemed so genuinely happy to have dinner. A fizzle erupted in Newt’s belly. Would asking about his availability tomorrow come across as too needy? Before he could even ask, the man and his friend had left the surgery. It was only as he reached out for his phone to program the number in that he had realised that he didn’t even know his name. Dashing out the door after him in the hopes of catching him before he left, Newt threw caution to the wind. In the daylight of the street, he had appeared even more inhumanly attractive. As the man drove away, Newt’s returned to the back room. Percival Graves. What a man.

In the end, they did have that date. Newt didn’t summon up the courage to call until the next day, so they set a dinner date up for that weekend at Percival’s favourite restaurant. He had decided against a fancy one, it would be a bit too extravagant for a first date. Instead they went to a smaller, but still classy place, with an excellent variety of Indian dishes.

It was there that Percival learned that Newt was vegetarian, heard from his own mouth some of his experiences from his travels across Europe and Asia, found out that he had picked up four languages as he went “because it would be rude to just expect people to know English” and was still in contact with a great deal of people he had helped.

Newt for his part, managed to tease out stories of Percival’s time at NYU studying business and politics, tales of his parents and of his friends. He manfully ignored Tima and Queenie having dinner together a few tables away with a couple of other guards. In the days after calling so set up the date, Newt had done his research. The Graves name was whispered on the grapevine as the kingpin of most of New York, who had risen over the last ten or so years from a mid-level group to incorporate almost every gang in the city. The boss was rumoured to be one of the most brutally deadly men alive, with the most fearsome assassins under his command - who it seemed, were having a competition over who could stuff the most breadsticks in their bag without the waiter noticing. As for the boss himself, he was winding up a story about how he and his college friends had pranked the dean by stealing all his office furniture then flogging it in a college-wide auction. Newt found himself giggling helplessly by the end of it.

“So, you really got away with it? He couldn’t find the proof of who did it?”

“Not quite. He knew it was us, but the whole college population thought it was a great joke and everyone said that they had done it. He could hardly expel the entire student body. He was fuming for months though.”

Newt burst out laughing again. He hadn’t laughed so much for a very long time, and his sides ached but Percival had put him so much at ease, was so considerate and lovely that he was falling dangerously fast for the mobster.

Percival was so happy. He didn’t even mind disclosing some of his more foolish moments if it made Newt glow like that. He too had the file on Newt expanded. Queenie’s contacts in the UK had managed to expound on the reasons for his feeing the country; according to one of the ex-maids of the Scamander Manor, he was treated more as a piece of furniture than a person by his parents. The neglect had been entrenched from childhood- from neglecting to pick him up from Westminster School at the end of semesters, to leaving him the care of the servants his whole life, they shows not an ounce of care for him and his wellbeing. His brother, Theseus, tried his best but was forbidden from interacting too much with Newt. The maid had gone on the emphasise how kind he was to the staff, how he tried his best to protect them from his parents whims. They were all glad when he ran away, she had confided, he deserved better. Everything he had heard made Percival’s blood boil. Getting to know the sweet young man over dinner had been one of the most enjoyable nights of his life.

They had parted ways that night with the promise to meet again the next week. Newt had even summoned the courage to kiss Percival’s cheek “as repayment” just before he ran down the steps to the subway, his face glowing red. He left Percival standing with his hand on his face, smiling helplessly. Even as his men caught up and he was ushered into his car, he was quiet.

“He seems nice.”

“He is. He is wonderful.”

“Way out of your league though.”

“Tina I swear to god-”

That was the precursor for several more dates of that kind. Between Newt’s punishing work schedule and Percival’s obligations both legal and not, they revelled in the hours they kept solely for each other. They didn’t progress further than kisses on the cheek and hand, though both silently wanted to. This seemed too important to rush. Instead Percival took Newt to art galleries and restaurants, and Newt pulled Percival out on walks through the city absorbing the buzz and life of the place. A month passed like this, their cozy hours together uninterrupted by many cares as they fell further and further in love. As far as Percival was concerned, this could have gone on forever, albeit with more action of the sexual variety. Sadly, this was not to be the case.

It was a Wednesday mid afternoon tea break that changed everything.

———— Part 3.5: http://classicalcassiopeia.tumblr.com/post/155715952508/another-mafia-au-35-i-have-given-up-this-is-the

Inktober 013: Me, myself and i

Tools: Copic Multiliner (0.3)

8

Stannis’ knuckles are white where they grip the back of his chair. “You’re married,” he states, deadpan, and his brows furrow over the bridge of his nose. “To whom?”
Sansa smiles placidly, belying her thundering pulse. “Jon. Lord Snow.”

As Long as We’re Going Down // alienor_woods
requested by qinaliel

8

2 days until Luhan’s birthday and Lay finally mentions him. as a fan who appreciates and adores Layhan’s friendship, this means so much to me ㅠㅠ I’ve been waiting 5 months for one of them to confirm that they still keep in touch. I didn’t doubt it for a second but I just missed their friendship and needed to know. I’m just happy and emotional and hopefully one day we’ll be able to see them together again. 
brothers forever ♡  

runest  asked:

♪ <3333

song starters / accepting! / @runest 

前前前世 - cover by kobasolo & lefty hand cream / original artist: RADWIMPS 

midnight arrives with a bang. she is all bright hues and dazzling grins, ringlets of plum-coloured hair bouncing in time with the flurry of her steps. slender fingers reach heavenward, the tips of her finely manicured nails glittering with comets and constellations, and her sapphire skirt billows flirtatiously as she twirls on her toes, sidelong glances flitting every which way to invite strangers to dance. seoul is stirring beneath the layers of mesh and silk, roiling with the conspiratorial whispers that leap among tangled wires and restless fingers. tension continues to rise in the streets, as palpable as cotton lining sweat-stained skin, and decades-old dissension is the binding glue. midnight basks in the flying sparks and revels in the embers of scorched spirits, her wild eyes alight with the inherent plague of progress. from the dredges of her lungs, she sings to the tune of haphazard promises and ephemeral joy. she doesn’t want the party to end.

two o’clock stumbles in with a hop in her step and a tune on her thick tongue, heavy-lidded eyes haloed in smudges of mascara. she tries to tell a story, a tale of hedonistic nights while swaddled in her coat of bravado, but the syllables hitch in the grooves of ivory teeth, forgotten. the crowd humours her with a chuckle and a toast, flutes of champagne clicking like sparks at the end of a gunpowder trail, one after another after another after another and the building blows. starving flames gnash at the hem of a skirt, clawing their way up to wine-stained lips and flyaway tresses, all while screams scramble through the haze of smoke and discontent as old as the city itself. two o’clock plunges into a mass of frenzied bodies, with throats sore and toes blistered from practised protest, and her trembling fingers clutch at the first hand she finds, a hasty decision amongst the chaos which clogs the city’s streets. 

two o’clock finds do kyungsoo prone against snow-capped pavement, knees flushed scarlet from the impact, and all his efforts to escape the confusion are for naught. pop pop pop goes a round of cherry bombs, but they’re nothing more than toys in the responding whirl of punitive batons and citadels of riot shields. voices thick with ire clash in a vicious tempest, dampened only by a fraction when he is dumped in the back of an armoured vehicle, tripping over a row of ice-laden shoes and fiery glares. cramped between two strangers and hands bound behind his back just like everyone else, he casts a desperate glance towards the heavy doors just in time to catch one more body being tossed inside, before the doors slam shut and lock–this time for good. 

“fuck,” he exhales lowly. his brows pinch together; fingers curl taut into fists; blunt nails burrow into freezing skin as his knuckles shine white. as the snow plastered to his cheek melts, trailing down the column of his neck with a languidness that he can’t afford, his eyes flicker across the other faces in the van, pausing for just a half-second too long on one in particular. he’s seen that person before, somewhere at some point, between an unopened pack of cigarettes and rushing water, but he doesn’t dare stare for any longer. it doesn’t matter. he only needs to get out.

anonymous asked:

Can you write a fic or hcs on the night of the Uchiha massacre for Itachi? Like, the last time he sees his lover (they can be Uchiha or not, whatever you decide!)

Oh, gods, of course I will! And I’m sorry I took so long! I love itachi — never be worried about asking for more of him!

Under the cut!

Keep reading

2

Requested by anon:

Thomas: “Before you got here I was scared and confused. But now that you are here, I’m even more scared and a hell of a lot more confused. I wouldn’t have it any other way! I love you Y/N… and I’m getting you out of this… I’m getting you out of this god forsaken maze! I will fight every griever out there to get you out of here, I promise you that!”

8

THE SUPERNATURAL GIF CHALLENGE | bleedingwinchesters vs. orgasmicsam
round 5 | season 5 + favourite relationship 
| the winchester brothers