i am living my non existent love life through them right now

anonymous asked:

LAMP, au where everyone is born with wings distinctive to their personality but can only fly after meeting their soulmate (can be platonic if you want), fluff please!!!

**This got so ridiculously long, and I am so, so ridiculously pleased. This is 2,760 words. How did this happen? 

Warnings: Small amount of swearing, some angst but I couldn’t resist a fluffy ending, lots of tears shed

This is poly sanders, Romantically involved because I’m a sucker for romance**


It happened when Virgil was born. There was a problem with the birth and he had to have surgery done, resulting in the loss of his wings.

“What did they look like?” He used to ask his mother. She’d tell him how soft they were, how dark they were, the color of the night sky dipped in the ocean. How beautiful they could have become. After awhile, he asked less and less sad to hear about what could have been and what would never be, and by the time he was ten he had come to hate the mere mention of his non-existent wings.

All of the adults pitied him, all of the children teased him.

Virgil was teased for it, of course he was, all throughout school. All the other children had wings, all the other children would find their Soulmates.

Soulmates.

It was bitter on his tongue.

Another tragedy all the winged beings encompassed themselves with.

Everyone had a Soulmate.

‘You probably don’t even have a Soulmate. That’s why they took your wings away.’

At first, he denied it. He wanted so desperately to fit in. He told them, he did have a Soulmate, and his Soulmate would be the most beautiful person ever. They’d tease him. They’d laugh at him. They’d tell him he was wrong.

He’d never have a Soulmate.

And he grew to hate them, too.

He grew to hate his non-existent Soulmate. The reason he was teased. The reason he was mocked. The reason he was alone.

Virgil would never have a Soulmate.

~

It was years after he had graduated high school that he met another with very similar thinking to his own.

They had run into each other on the street. An accident, really. Virgil hadn’t been looking where he was walking, hood pulled up and eyes cast down, and had collided with a man as he turned the corner.

Logan, he’d soon learn, hadn’t been watching his steps either; nose buried in some book more important than his steps.

Virgil was sarcastic and bitter, Logan was frozen, frowning at his wings.

“Do I know you?” He asked finally, as Virgil stepped past.

“Nope.”

“You sure?”

“Yes?”

“It’s just….” He shivered.

“I don’t care.”

Two years later, and they were happily living together as a couple.

Logan had similar thoughts to Virgil when it came to Soulmates.

“I don’t want my love to be determined by “pre-existing forces”. I should be allowed to decide for myself who I live the rest of my life with.”

Semi-similar to Virgil at least- Logan’s view point wasn’t stemmed from years of self-loathing and teasing.

“Good thing you got me then,” Virgil would say, smirking. After all, they loved each other, but Logan couldn’t fly.

He once said that his wings felt odd whenever Anxiety was around. Lighter almost, but said his heart felt that way too and then the conversation would usually lead into the “emotions” territory, which both men were terrible with.

But, they knew they loved each other, and that’s all they needed.

~

“I…. I met my Soulmate today.”

Virgil immediately dropped his phone to the couch, eyes wide for a split second before falling flat and empty.

“Oh.”

“Yeah…. It was… odd. My wings,” He glanced behind him, flexing out the gray feathered appendages so they brushed the ceiling and then folded them back and frowned, “I felt…. they fluttered. All on their own. It was like air was-”

“Yeah, I get it,” Virgil cut him off. Logan snapped his mouth shut.

Virgil didn’t like talking about his own wings, yes, but he seemed to live through Logan. Always asking to feel the otherswings, to groom them. He’d ask for Logan to tell him how they felt in the wind, how it felt to sleep, how it felt to have them pet…. He may not remember having his own wings, but he did seem to miss them.

“I’ll take you flying one day,” Logan told him one night as they curled together in a hammock, his left wing draped over them. “I’ll carry you in the sky with me in the night. Just you and me.”

“If you’re flying you’ll have your Soulmate,” Virgil had pointed out bitterly, a word very accurate to anytime he discussed Soulmates.

“Sure. I’ll find them, but I don’t need a Soulmate. I have you, and you’re all I want.”

“Look, just get on with it already.” Virgil’s words snapped Logan from his thoughts.

“Get on with what?” He asked in confusion, not an emotion he particularly liked, but one he found himself dealing with often when it came to his boyfriend. For someone who didn’t like feelings, Virgil had quite a few of them.

“You’re leaving, right? You’ve discovered your real Soulmate, you’ve realized being with me is foolish and you’re going to go be with them, right?” He wasn’t looking at Logan now, simply staring at his lap. His tone was emotionless.

“Hey,” Logan’s tone was sharp. He immediately walked over and sat beside the other. “Virgil,” He picked up the others hand and got no resistance. “Yes, I’ve found a Soulmate, but that means nothing. I’m interested, I suppose that’s the pull of the soulbond, but I would never, ever leave you. It’s you’ve I’ve fallen in love with Virgil, and it’s you who I’ve chosen to spend the rest of my life with, soulbond be damned.”

Virgil couldn’t stop himself, “Don’t say that.” He sniffled, “I know the power of a soulbond.” He didn’t, obviously, but he had been told, “I know it’s nearly impossible to resist. I don’t…. I don’t want you to hurt, because you’ve ignored them, I-….”

Logan reached out and lifted the others head, his own eyes meeting Virgil’s watery own.

“I just don’t want you to leave me-” His voice cracked at the end, and Logan was holding him then. Whispering soft sweet nothings and promises he would never break.

He would never leave Virgil. He could never leave Virgil.

If he could, he would give his own soul to him.

~

Through lots of talking, and after many months, Logan began happily dating his Soulmate, Patton. Whom, he’d come to find, was not his only Soulmate.

“Who knew you were so high-maintenance,” Virgil joked when he found out.

“It’s very upsetting,” Logan had frowned.

“How so? We not enough for you now?” It was a joke, but Logan always took Virgil’s self-depreciating humor seriously. Some small part of Virgil was thankful for that.

“You shouldn’t measure yourself out like that. Virgil, you’re greater than you know.” He kissed the others head, “And, I was referring to the fact that I still am unable to carry you through the skies.”

“Hm, well I’m still holding you to that, so get on that “finding your other Soulmate and/or Soulmates” thing.”

Logan smiled.

“Yes dear.”

After about three months of Patton and Logan being together, Virgil finally met the famed “Heart”.

Virgil never understood why Logan referred to him like that. Yes, Logan gushed (though, he wouldn’t admit to it) about the other and his emotional state of every second of every day, and how open he was about his feelings, but the nickname was still out of place.

Then, Virgil saw him.

His wings, large, red, and shimmering, were the shape of a heart when extended to full length. A large extension of the man himself.

It took merely three weeks for Virgil to fall head-over-heels for the other man, but he never said a word. This was Logan’s Soulmate- Virgil didn’t belong anywhere in that mix.

So, he kept his distance. He stayed out of the confusion that was Soulmates. Especially, Soulmates that weren’t his.

Puppy love, he called it. He was sure it’d pass.

It didn’t.

Everyday, it seemed his affections grew, until one day he confessed his feelings to Logan, apologizing over and over about butting in where he doesn’t belong, about getting in the way of his and Patton’s soulbond.

“Virgil,” Logan had said, “Virgil it’s okay. You can’t help who you love, anymore than I can. Love is okay, Virgil. You’re the one who taught me that. It’s okay.”

And a day later, Virgil had more than he could have hoped as he sat inbetween his partner of so many years, and his partner of seven minutes.

Patton had, or so he said, loved Virgil since the day they met.

Virgil said Patton was just being dramatic.

Patton only ruffled his wings in reply.

~

“Why don’t you understand, I have no control over this?” Logan ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

“You said you did! You said you’d never leave me! That you chose me!” Virgil yelled back, tears streaming down his face.

“I can’t choose who my Soulmates are, it’s not my fault!” Logan shot back, raising his voice in frustration more than anger.

He had met his Soulmate. Apparently, he had only two. He had all but flown (literally, he had to restrain himself) when he had run into a young man hurrying out of the local town hall, the two running hard into each other, but Logan having leaped back (okay, maybe he had kinda flown) so he didn’t fall.

Logan could finally fly.

He had flown home immediately to tell Virgil, who had been ecstatic to learn Logan had found his other Soulmate. Getting to know Patton and understand Soulbond’s better had really opened his mind and allowed him to see past what years of pain had done to him.

A week later, Logan was already dating Roman, and that’s when things got rocky.

Roman was all Logan talked about. Roman was all Logan thought about. Roman was all Logan cared about.

Then Pat.

Patton met Roman.

Lo and behold, Roman was his final Soulmate as well, and he had soared with love, high into the sky.

Roman had a third Soulmate, though, as Virgil had been told he still couldn’t fly.

And now, two months later, Virgil was done. He had been hoping, he had been hoping so hard things could work.

But his love wasn’t even close to enough when it came to soulbonds. They would always be more. They would always be better. And they would always be…. not him.

He knew he loved Logan and Patton. He knew they loved him, too. Though his mind liked to say it was lies, he had put all his faith and hope into their love and he would trust them with it.

It was hard though.

He wanted to believe the others loved him. He wanted to be enough for them. But, it was obvious now that he wasn’t. He’d never compare to their souls. He’d never compare to what they had.

Not him.

Not the wingless, soulless nobody.

Not Virgil.

Which lead to now. When Virgil had declared their relationship over. When he said he was leaving.

“You said you understood that I was with them! If you didn’t like that I was with them, why didn’t you say something?!” Logan fumed.

“BECAUSE THEY’RE YOUR SOULMATES!”

Virgil screamed, and the tears fell.

Everything was silent.

“Because, I could never, ever make you choose. Because, I know that you could never choose me over your soulbond.”

“What do you know about Soulmates?” The words left his mouth in rage, and died immediately in the battle.

It didn’t matter.

Their damage was done.

Virgil sobbed and covered his mouth with his hand.

“Virgil, I didn’t mean it-”

He was gone. Out the door like lightning, and tears falling like rain.

He wouldn’t know, but Logan immediately called Patton, and both took to the skies to look for him.

Hard to find one man in a city though, however hard they looked.

He managed to make his way towards the center of the city, twisting through streets until he was sure he had to be in another Country, walking for long, long hours he never wanted to end. He didn’t want to go back and face what had happened He didn’t want to face the reality he had been thrust into.

Why couldn’t he just have a soulbond like everyone else? Why couldn’t he have been normal?

“Hey!”

He fell backwards as another person collided with him.

He kept his gaze on the ground as the other lept backwards into the air.

Another person to rub it in his face how alone he was.

“You!”

Suddenly, hands were holding his face, and making him look upwards into the face of one of the handsomest men he knew. Though, to be fair he was, had been, dating the other two.

“You’re- why are you crying? Are you hurt?! Is my first act upon finding my true love only to hurt them?! Oh, how tragic! How dismal! How utterly horrific of me! I must-”

“Let go of me,” He pushed the other off and scrubbed at his eyes with his hands, “you didn’t do nothin’. I’m fine.”

“Well, that’s one relief,” The other sighed, but then he knelt down and was brushing the hair from Virgil’s face, “But, when I find out whoever it was that hurt my Soulmate, they won’t be so happy.”

Virgil chuckled bitterly, the salty tears finding the corners of his lips as if to remind him he needed to be sad.

“Don’t know if you’ve noticed buddy,” He motioned to his back, “But, I’m afraid you have the wrong guy.”

“Nonsense!” He jumped at how loud the other became, “It was your touch that brought me flight, thus it is your final soul that is bound to mine!”

Virgil scowled at the ground, “Look. I don’t have a soul, so it can’t be me. Just leave me alone!”

His pursuer stayed silent. He crouched down in front of Virgil and brushed the hair, once more, from his eyes.

“I don’t know what’s befallen you in life to make the sun so dark in your eyes, and I can’t take those filters away, but allow me to help, and I can brighten the sun tenfold until all you can see is its beauty.”

And it was all Virgil needed.

He had lived, all his life, every waking moment, believing he was soulless. That he couldn’t be anybodies. He couldn’t, wasn’t, like others. And suddenly, this man swoops in and tells him he has a soul. Further yet, that it has a mate.

And he’s sobbing again, and he’s being held and whispered, too. Told that everything would be okay.

He hears, vaguely, the other mention carrying him in flight to Virgil’s home, but he turns him down.

Logan, his first love, currently one of his only, had promised him his first flight. And now, he may never ever get it, but he wouldn’t destroy that promise. He held it dear, closer to his heart than his soul, and he couldn’t give it away.

“Okay, let me call for my others, and they can come help, okay?”

Virgil didn’t understand, but he nodded anyways.

A few short minutes later, he heard it.

A loud clap as shoes met pavement, and then he was being barreled into and pulled from his supposed Soulmate into new arms.

“Virgil, Virge, thank God, thank God,” Someone wept, “I was so worried, so scared, I didn’t- I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

It was Logan.

It was Logan that was holding him.

He clutched tightly to his shirt.

It was Logan who came for him.

Soulbond be damned.

It was Logan he loved.

It was Patton he loved.

His heart wrenched.

….This was it. What he didn’t understand before.

A solebond hurt.

A solebond hurt so much.

He may not love him now, but he knew. He knew he’d love him later.

He knew he’d love his soulmate- this man he had met only an hour earlier.

Had he known, he would have recognized this feeling many years ago, when he first met Logan.

~

“Thank you.”

He’d say, as he leaned into Logan’s chest, wind ruffling his hair as they flew across the stars.

Roman was twirling through clouds, attempting to be Peter Pan and discovering that clouds are, infact, made of water.

Patton was connecting stars with his flight pattern, creating large dogs, and fluffy cats in the sky.

“I always keep my promises.”

February/March fic rec!

I suck, I know. I’m late. This is ridiculously short. 

(ok, it’s not short now, but it was before I added in some fics that are gathering dust in my inbox to be read. There’s more fics I haven’t read in this rec than the opposite. oops.)

The Morning After the Night Before (4K): Harry and Louis have more or less grown up together, even now as adults it’s tradition for their families to spend a few weeks in the summer at a beach house together. Problem One: Louis has been in love with Harry forever. Problem Two: It wont stop raining.

I Slam Therefore I Am (4K): Louis and Harry are both creative souls but they aren’t friends, not by a long shot. This is the Rival Slam Poets AU that no one asked for.

I Found A Love (4K): Or the one where Louis is a nerdy English major who may just run into his happily ever after while working his shift at the local library.

Come and Kiss Me Like the First Time (5K): Louis meets Harry at his sister’s wedding.

just the sound of your voice (6k): It’s just. Harry’s so fucking quiet during sex and now Louis’ obsession with it is…it’s incessant. Louis questions it day and night, the enigma of it buzzing around his head like an annoying mosquito — all of the reasons why he’s so quiet consuming every one of his waking thoughts. Like, maybe he turns into an alien during sex if he’s not really careful? So he has to concentrate so hard on not turning into another creature he’s effectively struck mute from it. Or maybe…maybe he’s like one of those people who’s into tantric sex, like Sting or a throwback from the 1960s? And when he’s about to orgasm he travels to another plane of existence or something.

Twelfth Night (6k): Queen Anne holds a masquerade ball to try and find matches for both her children on Twelfth Night. While anonymity reigns, Prince Harry spends the ball getting to know a handsome stranger. 

‘Til I Tasted You (15K): Louis is Harry Styles’ biggest fan. It doesn’t matter that Harry is famous for being a food blogger and Louis can’t cook to save his life. At least, until Harry offers to give Louis a cooking lesson. Then it matters just a teensy bit.

Carried Away Like Butterflies (17K): It was probably a huge mistake for Louis to let his former One Night Stand move into his spare room, especially when said One Night Stand doesn’t seem to remember him.

Then We Talk Slow (20K): A famous/non-famous AU in which Louis banters back and forth with his new record company on Twitter, only to find out that Harry is the man behind the tweets.

Dance Like Warriors On A Battlefield (20K): Down in the arena, the triumphant gladiator places his foot on the back of the loser, holding him there as he waits for instruction on his next move. Kill or let live. It’s barbaric, really, the bloodlust involved in this sport. Louis is pretty sure that if it wasn’t for his distaste for the killing there would be a lot more blood soaking that sand. As it is, his father rarely gives the kill order anymore. He gives the order to let the loser live. Louis rolls his eyes, turning away. He doesn’t miss the way the gladiator’s eyes linger on him.

Like Candy In My Veins (31K): Basically the A/B/O, enemies to lovers, fake relationship, Christmas AU that nobody asked for.

All the Right Moves (32K): This is the third game in a row that Harry has been distracted by the noisy boy in the stands, five rows back. There’s really no reason that he should feel compelled to stare into the audience as frequently as he is, but he can’t help it. This boy is a nuisance. And he’s loud. Even from basketball court with nine other players running by him, shoes squeaking on the shiny hardwood floor, and thousands of cheering college students, Harry can hear this boy nearly shrieking, his laugh more like a cackle than anything.

The Reason Is You (37K): Louis is running out of time to find a summer job. His best friend offers him one that promises early mornings, late nights, long hours, and the best people he’ll ever meet. Lucky for Louis, one of those people is Harry Styles.

tangled up in you (45K): There’s still a big grin on his face, though, when he says, “I got you a professional cuddler.”

Safe and Sound (You’ll Always Be) (58K): When a failed case and a guilty conscience leaves Harry more than a little lost, his boss presents him with a new, less taxing assignment to help him cope. An escape from all the madness is just what Harry needs to get his life back on track. It’s just too bad his new client has a grin like the devil, a pair of electric eyes that Harry simply can’t get over, and no intention whatsoever of letting him catch a break.

Feels Like Coming Home (60K): The last thing Harry Styles expects when he’s hanging out at the Someday Cafe in Somerville one rainy October day is for his ex, Louis Tomlinson to walk through the door, but that’s exactly what happens. After a spectacularly ugly break-up three years prior, Harry hasn’t heard one word from Louis, and he’s moved on. Gotten over him. But having Louis back in his life, not to mention working at the restaurant where he’s a chef, isn’t easy, and the feelings that Harry thought he’d left turn out to be not so easily forgotten.

When We Were Younger (76K): Sixteen year old Harry Styles’ world turns upside down when he logs on to gay teen chat to discover somebody has stolen his photos and used them as their own.

Perfect Storm (80K): What do you do when your best friend asks you and your (now) ex to be the best men at his destination wedding? You can either tell him the truth, tell him you’re not together anymore, and deal with the consequences, or you can pretend you’re still together and roll with it, just pray you don’t spiral. Fake it ‘til you make it. You know, for the sake of the wedding. Harry and Louis choose the latter.

Dress you up in my love (103K): Harry is single, and more than anything wants to find love. Agreeing to sign up to a dating website was a bad, bad idea. Niall’s bad, bad idea. Louis is single, but has no interest in relationships. Or so he tells himself. 

Harry is a lawyer whose boss, Nick, happens to give him a bonus, which he decides to splurge on a new work wardrobe. Louis is a frustrated designer, working as a personal shopper at Selfridges. Louis happens to be working on the day a very beautiful, but out of his depth, new customer ambles into their department in need of advice. Louis might have just found the muse he never knew he was looking for.

We Are Only Just Beginning (129K): In the dim light of a dorm kitchen, Harry Styles meets a boy who flips his life upside down. Three years later, he’s a senior in college, ready to take on the world with the love of his life by his side. And then Louis Tomlinson admits he doesn’t know what he wants to do after college after all, and Harry’s world flips again, this time not so pleasantly. He can’t imagine his life without Louis, but he’s starting to worry he might have to.

I’ve always wanted to talk a bit lenghtily about my opinions on fic, fic writing and the general writer-fic-reader culture and I just saw an extremely unpleasant “article” on ao3 that righeously attacks a certain genre of fanfic that I personally don’t read, nor like, but the existence of which really doesn’t bother me.

First things first, to me the positives of fanfiction vastly outnumber the negatives. I am used to living in absolute certainty that anytime I want to have fun, escape or get a little hot and bothered, there will always be fic to provide that for me. I will always, always find a fic I love. Notice I am saying fic *I* love, not, “fic that is good”. And having this certainty, I become entirely unbothered by the automatically existing other group, aka fics I don’t love.

Despite commenting on fics as much as I can, and participating in the fandom, there is still something utterly personal about fanfiction to me. It’s reading it on my phone as I’m shaky and queasy on my way to an exam, to a job interview, to an annoying doctor’s appointment. It’s loading up fics to my kindle and reading them at 3am on the plane when it kind of seems like neither time nor space are real anymore. It’s checking my ao3 subscription emails right after my alarm goes off because finding out a fave WIP updated might actually wake my brain up in a pleasant manner. I’m not exaggerating when I say I go through my life non-stop reading fics bit by bit.

What each and every one of the writers responsible for those fics gives me is priceless. And they are not even asking for a price! Just some damn decency.

The phrase “don’t like don’t read” might seem simplistic and in a way, almost illogical - except with the existence of meticulous tagging system, it becomes reality. Tags are there to warn and to entire. Writers, use them. Readers, read them. But it doesn’t stop there. It is, in fact, entirely possible to open a fic and find it wanting and still follow that directive. How? Close the damn tab. If you want to nitpick it, the phrase becomes “i have read, i haven’t liked, i have stopped reading”.

Now, we are people. We get passionate about fandoms, characters, ships, so I get that not everyone - not all the time - is capable of being so chill about being faced with something they seriously didn’t like.

Don’t inflict it on the author. And - and this is a peeve of mine - don’t passively aggresively inflict it on all the authors who might read your vague, public rant and think “is this me?” or who will add it to that ever growing list of mental barriers and doubts that we seem to be soaking up like sponges. Just tell it to a friend. Punch a pillow. Go and find a fic you love.

Remember that even though it seems your taste might be objective, or “common sense” - and this is easy to fall into especially when things like basic grammar are involved - it’s just not. Not in these cases. That description of my daily fic consumption I wrote above? That has been going on for years and years. Somewhat recently I decided to look up fics for an old ship of mine, remembering how deeply I loved them, how I reread them many times, and I was so giddy about getting to enjoy myself like that again. My reaction was a little “oh”. It was not only me whose tastes have changed, but also fandom and fic writing that has evolved, however, that doesn’t at all alter my past enjoyment. And for every fic you scoff at, there might be a reader who is at an entirely different place than you are, and is loving it. Don’t undo their support by your selfish lash out.

Bottom line, just focus on what you do. Focus on finding what you like. Support what you like. It’s not like “bad” and “good” fic are fighting for their place on the interwebs and only one can get the spot. This is not a limited space library. 

If you need a more candid conversation about things like ships, characterizations and so on, turn to meta. Meta is there for people to disagree on, because meta should follow rules of logic and analysis. Fanfiction doesn’t have to.

Heyy! 😊 I’m Nakomis (@gc2bnik) and I use he/him or they/them pronouns. I’m 21 years old, non-binary, homoflexible, and polyamorous. ⠀

If you didn’t already know… it’s Trans Awareness Week! (Nov 13 - 17)⠀

It took a while for me to come out at trans, mainly because of an extreme lack of representation and resources leading me to believe that my identity was wrong, or non-existent even! This could have been avoided if I had the knowledge that I have now and acceptance and support within the trans community.⠀

I am incredibly and deeply grateful to be surrounded by such wonderful people who make me feel like it’s okay to be me for the first time in my life. I’ve gone way too long feeling alienated and invalidated because of my identity and that’s just unacceptable for any trans person to experience. Trans awareness is so integral to the growth and strengthening of our community.⠀

I’m proud to say that I’m here and visible for those who can’t be. Wherever you may be in life, you should never have to feel alienated or “broken” because of the societal “norms” that were thrust upon you. ⠀

Also, with Trans Day of Remembrance (Nov 20th) right around the corner, it is important to note that so far in 2017, we’ve had more trans lives unjustifiably lost through hatred-driven acts of violence than ever before. We have to work as a community to bring awareness to such pressing issues and significantly lower this devastating number of fellow trans lives lost, trans feminine POC in particular. Let’s strengthen our community to reflect and honor the strong foundation that it was built upon 💪🏾 ⠀

💗 You’re strong. You’re valid. You’re loved 💗⠀

A special thanks to @point5cc for the Transgender Day of Remembrance shirt! 20% of their profits are donated to @pointofprideorg to support programs for trans people around the world! ⠀

anonymous asked:

pleasee write nb!alex in college, like could they meet maggie in college too? also just as a personal preference cause I love the idea could alex have a really cool undercut? wow I love your writing and college nb!alex would be amazing

It’ll all be okay next term.

Next term, when Kara comes to school with them, when Kara will be a freshman.

Because Eliza is always talking about Alex needing to take care of Kara, and Alex is always thinking of taking care of Kara.

But it’s been a while since they’ve realized how much Kara takes care of them, too, without even meaning to.

Because the phone calls and the FaceTime sessions aren’t enough.

Especially now.

Especially now with their new undercut – it took a couple anti-anxiety meds to actually go through with it, because you’re already underperforming in your coursework, Alexandra, and now you’re distracting yourself further with ridiculous haircuts? – and especially now with the binder they’d saved for all of fall term to be able to afford.

The binder that finally helps them be able to wear henleys, because the damn shirts never fell right on their body before. The binder that will undoubtedly draw cries of protest from Eliza, because oh Alexandra – or would you prefer Alexander? You know this is all so much for me to take in – your body is beautiful, and aren’t you concerned about the wear and tear with such intense compression, and what will you do when you have to spend hours in the lab and you get overheated in that thing? You are still intending to spend hours in the lab, aren’t you? Because after you failed that last test, I keep worrying that you’ll just forsake all that you’ve spent so long building for… what? Some girl? Is there a girl? God, can you let me deal with this gender stuff before bringing home a girl? Would that girl be a lesbian, anyway? Oh, Alexan – Alex – why can nothing ever be simple with you, it used to be so simple with you.

The binder that will draw protests, but hell, they’re failing a couple of classes anyway – and Eliza makes sure they can’t forget it – so why not fail at everything, right?

At least, when Alex looks in the mirror with their new binder on – their roommate Lucy had grinned like a fiend listening to Alex stumble around the bathroom, pulling it up over their legs and ass, upside down and backwards, so they could slip it up their body properly, and Lucy’s grin had only gotten bigger at Alex’s excited squeals as they tossed open the door and kept running their hands over their flattened chest, standing front ways, sideways, all ways, tossing on shirt after shirt after shirt, just to watch them finally fit properly – at least when they look in the mirror now, they see their own smile, their own tears, Lucy’s grin, hear Kara’s squeals over FaceTime, rather than Eliza’s disapproval.

“The girls are gonna love you even more than they already did, Danvers,” Lucy nudges them as the two friends sit very illegally on the ledge of their first floor dorm room, their legs hanging out of their window, a couple of feet off the ground, and Alex pffts, and Alex splutters, and Alex blushes.

But then Alex glances down at their newly-bound chest, first with excitement, first with pride, then with… panic, and they grow serious.

“But what if my mom’s right? What if the gay girls just want… well…”

“Straight up girls?”

Alex nods with tears in their eyes.

“You’re amazing, Alex. Binding or not, whatever pronouns you use. Any girl can see that a mile away. And uh… hey. Looks like that gorgeous one already has.”

Alex’s heart plummets and they try to follow Lucy’s gaze, the slight nod of her head, subtly, subtly, subtly.

And then they almost tumble right off the windowsill, because the girl Lucy’s talking about?

The girl who just parked her motorcycle in the lot across from their dorm room, all thick leather jacket and boots and denim and dimples?

That girl is the most beautiful girl Alex has ever seen, and she’s staring right at them.

Alex sends a silent thank you to the queer goddesses that Lucy’s lawyerly aspirations include a military-style commitment to fitness, because somehow, even with her much smaller frame, she manages to grab Alex subtly enough to not make it obvious, strong enough to make sure they don’t splat out of the window.

The girl notices despite Lucy’s subtlety, and she grins.

Her eyes are bright and her dimples are adorable and Lucy mutters a reminder for Alex to breathe.

“Alright there?” the girl calls, and Lucy nudges Alex in the ribs.

“Nice ride,” they call back, and Lucy sits a little straighter, proud of her friend for using… words.

The girl struts over – Alex doesn’t know how to think about her walk as anything other than a confident, almost cocky, strut, and Alex is gone, gone, gone – with a small grin still on her face, a thin backpack slung over both shoulders and her helmet still in her hand.

“You two supposed to be hanging out of your window like that?”

Alex thinks of a lot of possible responses.

You supposed to be so hot amongst unsuspecting queers?

You supposed to be riding that motorcycle on campus? You can cause an accident with how good you look on it.

You supposed to have a voice that sounds like my first kiss and a face that looks like my heaven?

They think of a lot of possible responses, but they only splutter one.

“Sure, we – I mean, no, but pfft, rules? I mean, you rode a Triumph to school, like come on, screw rules, right?”

Lucy grimaces, claps Alex on the shoulder, and swings her legs up and back into their dorm room.

“Well. Good luck with this one,” she says to Maggie with a grin. “I’m Lucy Lane, and their name – if they never get around to telling you – is Alex Danvers. Feel free to stop by any time…”

“Maggie Sawyer,” the girl answers, but her eyes are on Alex’s face, which has gone pale since Lucy used their proper pronouns to introduce them to this gorgeous girl, since Maggie’s eyes traced slowly up and down Alex’s body, taking in their undercut, their flat chest, their boy jeans, their black, short-sleeved henley.

“Well. You kids have fun,” Lucy claps Alex’s shoulder again, and Alex thinks about asking her – begging her – to stay, but Lucy’s hopped back inside before Alex can form words.

“So, college has you so busy that you’re window hanging, Danvers?” the new girl teases. Maggie. Maggie Sawyer.

Alex rolls the name around in their mind, on their tongue, and decide they love it.

They shrug. “I’m usually in the lab.” They point haphazardly in the direction of one of the science buildings. “But I uh… I’ve had a lot going on lately, depression and whatever, and my mom’s been ragging on me more than usual, so I haven’t been doing so great in classes, so they gave me time off from the lab to fix my grades and – shit, I’m sorry, I… I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”

“They tend to ramble in front of cute girls, Sawyer!” Lucy shouts from inside their living room, and Alex nearly leans in to take a swipe at her, but Maggie just grins.

“They’re lucky I find rambling charming, then,” Maggie calls back with a tilted head and a bright smile.

She used my pronouns. She used my pronouns. She used my pronouns and she’s smiling at me like maybe she can like me and holy shit, is she – she is – oh shit shit shit fuck fuck fuck I’m gonna either kill Lucy or get her a car or something as a thank you…

Because Maggie is swinging her backpack off her back and gingerly placing her helmet on top of it on the ground, and she’s arching an eyebrow.

“Want some company up there, Danvers?” she asks, holding up a hand, and Alex gulps, and Alex leans down to grasp it.

They both inhale sharply at the other’s touch, at the strength in the other’s grip. At the spark, the heat, that shoots through both of their bodies on contact.

Alex tugs her up easily, and Maggie situates herself next to them on the window ledge.

“So your parents have hella painful expectations of you too, huh?” she asks, her voice deliberately light.

“Just my mom. My dad, he uh… plane crash.”

“Oh shit, Danvers, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to – “

“No. No, it’s okay. Your parents too? Expectations?”

Maggie grins wryly and studies their fingernails. “It’s whatever. But hey – looks like you got yourself a nice roommate.”

“Damn right they do!”

“Oh my god, Lucy!”

“What, am I cramping your non-existent style, Al?”

Alex groans but Maggie just laughs. “She looks out for you,” she says softly after a few moments, like it’s hard for her to believe that people have relationships like that. Friendships like that. Family like that.

Like it’s a foreign concept to her.

Alex runs their hand over the side of their head that’s shaved, and bites the inside of their cheek.

“Do you not? Have people who look out for you?”

Maggie just shrugs. “I’m new here. New to… cities, generally.”

Alex studies her for a moment. “Welcome, then, Maggie Sawyer. Consider yourself looked out for.” They hold out their hand, and Maggie looks wary, like touching them again will catapult her into a world she’s scared to go, terrified to trust, petrified to hope for.

But Alex’s face is kind, and it’s open, and damn, it’s cute as hell.

And cute queers always were Maggie’s weakness.

Or, now, maybe… her hope.

She takes Alex’s hand, and shakes it, and she watches Alex groan good-naturedly when Lucy whoops from inside their living room.

“Can you get your own life?!” Alex calls back inside, not bothering to take their hand from Maggie’s.

“Not when yours is so straight out of a movie!”

Alex blushes and Maggie beams and Alex thinks, for once, that maybe, if this is part of their life movie, that they’re not such a failure after all.

Foreign

Originally posted by j-miki

Title : Foreign

Pairing : Jinyoung x Reader

Genre : Fluff, Romance

Author : Myself

Summary : You’re supposed to meet your boyfriend’s parents, but you’re a foreigner and you start freaking out, so your boyfriend comforts you.

Red dress? Too fancy. Long skirt? Too Tacky. Jeans? Too casual.

You shook your hands in the air, throwing yet another piece of clothing and hating yourself for not being able to buy one single decent outfit for this important day. There was nothing worth being shown, and even less parade into in front of your boyfriend’s parents. You selected a pair of black pants and took a pale blue embroidered tunic, hoping it would have a girly effect on the people who were pictured as severe and merciless. You checked on your reflection in the mirror and sighed.

You looked like nothing they would love. Nothing at all.

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love.exe | ch 3

Originally posted by withjunhui

chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 8.5

summary: it’s been close to two weeks since jun’s moved in with you. he’s acting more human as time quickly progresses, but he soon learns the emotion of boredom.

characters: jun/original female, svt members, members of pristin

genre: FLUFF! all the fluff in the world

word count: 2.3k

a/n: yall got me to 697 which is good enough. probably reach 700 not too long after this anyway. love! (also chapters will be put under read mores from now on unless i say otherwise)

Another week and a half passed, and Jun quickly became used to the routine of you being gone for a few hours. When you weren’t relaxing, you were helping Jun with his ‘human research’ as the two of you had begun to call it.

You’d noticed that over the past few days, Jun had begun to develop more of a solid personality, but he retained his naive demeanor. He’d begun to banter with you more often, being able to speak out for himself at times, as well.

He never really ate still, but it seemed not to be a problem, since his framework didn’t let him understand the sensation of hunger, sickness, or thirst. 

Only problem was, he hadn’t left the apartment since you first found him at the convenience store.

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a traitor, i’d trade her in a second

*deep sigh* she has returned. drama club AU is back with PART FOUR!! honestly im in love with these two loser nerds and i hope you love them (and this) too :’) part one part two part three and awaaaaaay we go!! (feel free to yell in my inbox after this)

JAKE’S HOUSE, 1624 HOURS, GETTING THROWN UNDER A BURNING BUS BY HIS OWN MOTHER

“What? Mom, I didn’t ask Amy out!”

Karen appears to understand, nodding conspiratorially. “Ahh, you’re doing the playing hard to get thing, I see.”

She winks, something which Jake does not appreciate, and his entire face burns as he takes a deep, deep sigh.

“That’s not what’s going on at all. Amy’s my enemy,” he considers spelling it out, but he thinks that would be pushing it. “She’s supposed to be the worst!

“You kiss your enemy with that mouth?” Karen teases, and it’s very obvious where Jake gets his playful nature from.

Jake covers his forehead with his palm, turning around only when he hears Amy snickering to herself.

Really? He mouths, and she shrugs in response. At least someone is enjoying this painfully awkward situation.

“What do you mean she’s your enemy?” Karen continues, genuinely confused, as though she has no idea about Jake and Amy’s decade-long rivalry. “You talk about her all the time.”

Jake stiffens, refusing to turn around because Amy must look incredibly smug right now.

“Yeah, but only to complain.”

“Wasn’t your last ‘complaint’ about how annoying her pretty face is?”

“NO IT WASN’T MOM! I’VE NEVER THOUGHT AMY WAS PRETTY IN MY LIFE!

If Amy could see Jake’s face now, she would know that his cheeks blush a bright crimson. Yes, that’s right. Crimson.

“Now Jake, that’s a very mean thing to say about your girlfriend,” Karen chides, disappointed in her useless lying son. “Our guest Amy must be so upset-” she turns around, and realizes she’s wrong, “oh wait- she’s smiling, never mind.”

“That’s because she’s not my girlfriend! She’s my enemy and you’re giving her way too much ammo!”


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The Right Thing

Pairings/Characters; Tony Stark X Reader, Avengers X Reader

Words: 2300

Warnings: NSFW at the end,implied smut,making out,pre sex.

Request:  Hi, I’d like to request something fluffy for MCU!CW. Reader is an Avenger, but dislikes answering to higher-ups because of bad experiences with being used. So Tony readies himself for the reader to side with Steve about the accords and is surprised but grateful and overjoyed when the reader sees the necessity of supervision and sides with Tony - maybe with finally telling Tony that the reader is in love with him? I hope that’s okay :)

Requested By: @rambling-mind

Authors Note: Its longer than I expected it be and smut that was originally not there. Oops! Oh well! Pictures are not mine. If they are tell me. I got them from google. 

PS: I really enjoyed writing this and hope to do more. I know there might be some typos which I’ll edit in the morning (its 4am) and I am too impatient to not post this ASAP.

Permanent Tags: @palaiasaurus64 @sybil-howlett

MASTERLIST



Steve had just left the room in the middle of a very important conversation. It was right after the Secretary of State had left the Avenger with the Accords. You guys were discussing your next actions as a team and more importantly as a family. Steve though, had left as soon as he had received a message.

“What was that?” You asked everyone.

“I’ll check.” replied Sam.

This left you, Rhodes, Tony, Natasha,Vision, and Wanda in the living room. Tony was back to laying down on the sofa.You sensed there was something wrong with him, you could see through his behavior and him being uncharacteristically non-hyper verbal, so you decided you would talk to him.

“You didn’t tell us Y/N  what you think? Are you going to sign?”

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That  I Had Hoped

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x Reader (female pronoun)

Genre : Angst, tiny bit of fluff

Warning : Major angst, I shed a tear while writing and also cursing

Word Count : 4884 words

A/N : This is the part 2 of ‘That I Have Regretted’, I was really hoping that the part 1 pulled your heartstrings to the point of almost snapping and judging by the comments some of you left me, I kinda did it??? loll anywho I’m also currently writing a romcom for Steve Rogers so make sure to look out for it! for those who wants to be on my taglist, dm me, I might accidentally skip it if you leave a comment on a story so just dm me and tell me that you want to be tagged for my upcoming stories. Btw I might make this into 3 or 4 parts ?? Let me know what you guys think about this story! Your input helps me write even better and if y’all hate looking at my face pls let me know so that I won’t make you guys feel uncomfortable while reading whatever it is I wrote and change my picture to a picture of someone or something else loll. - Nana 🌸

Originally posted by n-barnes

A/A/N : HIS EYES PIERCED THROUGH MY NONEXISTING SOUL I HATE HIM FOR DOING THIS TO ME

That I Have Regretted ( Part 1 of the series )




17 hours, 27 minutes and 48 seconds…

He waited that long for her.

He wouldn’t budge from his kneeling position he was in at the first 7 hours of the operation, no matter how his legs hurt from the awkward position and angle, no matter how his brain told him that he’s tired from all the fighting and that he needed rest, no matter how his stomach cried out for food and his throat croaked for water, he ignored it all so that he would be the first to know about (Y/N)’s condition.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hey, doesn't the B in LGBT stand for bisexual indicating there's only two genders? Which means agender, genderqueer, nonbinary and sexual identities such as pansexual are invalid. Also do you believe you can be trans without being dysphoric? I mean it's obvious you can't be but I just want to know your stance because I can't tell whether or not you're actually serious about LGBT rights and activism or if you're about Tumblr followers and making everyone feel good even if they're just pretending.

Well hi to you too! I’ve never seen so much bait in a single ask before lmao.

Regardless, I’m gonna be honest with you. I don’t have all the answers. I’m certainly not a mogul in all things LGBT+. I thought I had a solid grasp on all that stuff in the past, but now I don’t know. The meaning of “gender” is different to everyone because its origins are so blurry. I myself don’t fully understand it and there are thousands of different opinions about what gender is. But honestly, it doesn’t really matter to me. If someone identifies as trans or nonbinary and they feel that they have a certain identity in society they want to fill, who am I to deny them that? I’m not gonna say “NO. Your way is wrong!” A person’s identity is sacred, and there’s no single way to exist. I don’t have to fully understand something to respect it. It’s not my job to decide whether or not someone is “valid.” I dislike that word lol. It sounds like you’re talking about a coupon and not a human being.

So no I’m not going to tell people that they’re living their life the wrong way. I love my trans and non-binary friends. I can’t completely understand what they’re going through because I’m not them. But as long as they’re happy, I’m happy.

Also, I’m not “all about Tumblr followers” lol. A number on a screen’s never done anything for me. I’ll never preach an idea that I don’t believe in at the time. Also, while I enjoy talking politics and stuff irl, lately I’ve been refraining from doing so online. I’m a very skeptical person. I’ve held certain opinions and preached certain things online before, only to find out more information later and change my opinion. The internet is so polarized nowadays and I am in no way “ideologically pure.” It’s super difficult to have political debates online because things can get heated in an INSTANT and things are more easily misinterpreted. I’ve sometimes put my foot in my mouth when trying to learn more, so it’s better for me to just listen to others and allow my opinions to be fluid.

Also also, sharing mostly memes is a lot less draining.

danibwills  asked:

A Jon x Sansa New girl AU please !

I hope this is alright! Sorry it’s a million years late! <3 


It was a Wednesday morning when Sansa walked in on Harry arse-naked on top of some blonde in their shared bed. At first, she’d just stood there, thinking about how ugly Harry was and how gross he looked in the throes of sex. Everything about it looked so mechanical and dull – and god, if you’re going to cheat on your girlfriend who you just moved in with then at least throw it all away for a night (or rather morning) of passion. That’s why people cheat, right? They get so overwhelmed by sexual chemistry and something new that they can’t resist themselves, so what does it say about Sansa that her boyfriend of a year cheated on her for mediocre sex?

She’s not sure and it’s better if she pretends she doesn’t know the answer to that question.

“Sans? Where do you want this?”

Her brother is studying her with his arms wrapped tightly around a box labeled ‘shit Sansa doesn’t need’ courtesy of her little sister.

“Um, just… anywhere is good. Thank you, Robb.” The smile she offers is faint and lacking any warmth, but it’s the best she can do considering she’s twenty-six-years-old and moving in with her brother and his two flatmates. She loves Robb and there’s a part of her that still worships the ground he walks on, but she honestly does not want to live with him and his friends. Sansa was supposed to be getting her own space, settling down and being a grown up, only that all went crashing down around her when Harry decided to stick his prick in somewhere else.

She grimaces at the thought and that catches Robb’s attention.

“What?”

“Harry was gross, wasn’t he?” she asks instead, looking around the room. It’s a decent size with two large windows to one side that faces another apartment complex. It’s not a great view, but the room is well-lit and she likes that.

Her brother chuckles in surprise. “We’re just glad you didn’t catch anything.”

Sansa’s grimace grows and she throws a pillow at his head. “Ew, Robb. Don’t even joke about that!” She’s already been to the GP for a very thorough STI test, and thankfully, she’s clean. She supposes the one good thing Harry has going for him is a healthy knowledge of sexual education and the follow-through to always wear a condom.

“Sorry,” he laughs, putting both hands up in the universal sign of surrender, but when Sansa rolls her eyes, her brother moves towards her swiftly and wraps her in his signature bear hugs. “Hey, you’re better off without him, yeah? You’re way too good for a weasel like Harry.”

“I know that,” she mumbles into his shirt.

“I love you, Lemon.”

“Love you too, Bacon,” she says, shaking her head at their stupid childhood nicknames. Lemon for her for the amount of lemon cakes she used to eat and Bacon for him for the amount of bacon he used to steal from everyone’s plates. In their defence, Sansa had been four and Robb seven.

Once her brother leaves her new room, Sansa flops down on the bed with a heavy groan. She doesn’t know what’s more tragic – the fact that her boyfriend cheated on her or the fact that she doesn’t feel even a smidgen of heartbreak.

+++

“THEON, GET THE HELL OUT!”

“I’M SO SORRY I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE HOME!”

Sansa grabs for her towel and runs out into the living room where Robb is sitting on the L-shaped sofa with Jon playing some video game. Both are staring up at them with wide eyes, but she takes no notice of this. She’s too busy glaring daggers at the scrawny man before her.

“How do you not – didn’t you hear the shower going!” She’s not screaming any more but she is still very close to killing him.

“What? Mate, did you fucking walk in on my sister showering?” Robb is now on his feet with a scowl on his face. Theon instinctively recoils back in fear, which really irks Sansa, because he should be more afraid of her.

“I didn’t mean to. I swear it was an accident!” Theon says in a rush. He looks to Sansa and seems to be imploring her with his eyes. “Honest, Sansa! And if it makes you feel any better, you have a very lovely figure.”

“Ugh, douchebag jar now!” she screeches in frustration, grabbing an empty can from the nearby table and hurling it at Theon’s head. He ducks in time but the physical action does make her feel a little better. “You guys need to fix that lock or I swear to god I will make your lives hell.” With that said, she storms back to the shower to finish rinsing out her hair.

Day six of living with the boys is going disastrously. Not only has Theon seen her naked but she’s pretty sure she’s heard her brother having sex multiple times now, and if it happens again, she’s going to cut off her ears.

+++

It’s Valentine’s Day and Sansa officially hates her life. Harry and her had plans to travel down to London and stay at a nice hotel. Of course now her Valentine’s Day consists of cocooning herself in a duvet while watching Bridget Jones’ Diary and drinking wine. It’s mean and petty but she’s fuming that everyone she knows has plans. Even Theon sodding Greyjoy has a date! How did that buffoon trick someone into going out with him is beyond her, but she supposes the silver lining is that she has the flat to herself.

Bridget has just shown up to the garden party in a little bunny outfit when the door to the flat bursts open and Jon comes stumbling in decked out in his fireman uniform. He looks weary and exhausted, and it takes him several minutes to notice her. In fact, he probably wouldn’t have at all if she hadn’t shifted on the sofa causing the leather to squelch underneath her.

Fuck!” he exclaims, jumping back in surprise. His curly hair is in such disarray and his eyes are so comically wide she has a hard time stifling the giggle rising up her throat. “I didn’t – I thought you’d be out or something.”

Sansa arches a brow. “With who? My non-existent boyfriend or my illustrious ex?”

Jon flushes and rubs the back of his neck. “Right, sorry. I just thought you of all people would have a date.”

Me of all people? What’s that supposed to mean?”

If it’s possible for a person to turn into a tomato, Jon is doing a very good job right now with that transformation. “Nothing. Um… Bridget Jones?”

“You like Bridget Jones?” This is news to her. But then most of what she’s found out about Robb’s sullen best friend is news to her. “Didn’t peg you as the type.”

He shrugs as he kicks off his shoes and drops down next to her. “It’s alright.” But thirty minutes later, Jon is completely gripped by the story. He’s laughing and shaking his head in time to each crazy or absurd thing Bridget does. It’s surprisingly endearing and Sansa finds herself watching him for the rest of the film instead. He has a very expressive face when it’s not wearing that grumpy mask he has on most of the time.

“Why aren’t you on a date?” Sansa asks once the credits start rolling.

Jon blinks at her, fingers clenching and unclenching around his coffee mug filled to the brim with red wine. “Don’t really feel like dating.”

“Bad breakup?” she pushes, because she really doesn’t know a thing about Jon and she should considering they’re now flatmates. He’s also the most sane one out of the three of them.

“Does it count as a reason if it was over two years ago?”

Sansa surprises herself by laughing at that. “Yeah, sure. If it was bad enough.”

“Is my ex getting into a car accident, going into a coma for three months and waking up only to decide to travel the world without me bad enough?” he asks, and if it isn’t for the glimmer of a smile on his lips, Sansa would be horrified by that tale.

She pretends to think about it for a second. “Hmm… I guess I can give you that one.”

“You’re so gracious,” Jon says, chuckling. “So what was your bad breakup? Robb didn’t really tell us anything other than Harry is a twat and he’s going to gut him like a fish.”

“Oh god,” she sighs. Robb really needs to get a grip on this overprotective brother thing. If she hears he actually tried to fight Harry, she’ll kill them both. “I think you have me beat on the bad breakup front but I think coming home to see your boyfriend breaking in your new mattress with someone that’s not you is pretty rubbish.”

“Ouch,” Jon says, as he reaches over to place a comforting hand over her own. His hand is big and warm, calloused but still soft enough to make her body shiver from the contact. “That is shit, Sansa. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s okay,” Sansa says automatically, before feeling emboldened by the wine to add, “but you know what’s the most screwed up part? I’m actually more upset about the mattress than I am about Harry. I mean – I paid for half of that mattress and mattresses are expensive, Jon. They’re supposed to be an investment, right? Except now I’ll never be able to use it.”

He shakes his head, smiling bemusedly at her. “You’ll buy a new mattress.”

“But it was a really good mattress!” she whines. “It has one of those memory foam things.”

“Oh jesus, yeah, that’s definitely a real loss,” Jon nods with a completely serious expression. “I’m sorry for your pain.”

“Shut up.” She swats at him with one of the ends of the duvet. “You’re an asshole.”

Jon grins, grabbing the remote from her and flicking through Netflix for something else to watch. “I hate to break it to you, Sans, but everyone in this flat is an asshole. Even you.”

“Excuse me?” she cries out indignantly.

Uhuh, so you’re saying you’re not the one that threw all of Theon’s toiletries into the toilet? Or the one that keeps turning down the boiler so it’s practically the Arctic Circle in here?”

“Well…” Sansa chews on her bottom lip as she hides behind her wine glass. “In my defence, Theon deserved it and – I like the cold.”

“See,” Jon smirks now. “Asshole.”

+++

Theon gets dumped by his girlfriend on a Friday.

In the five months Sansa’s been living with them, Theon’s been with this girl for three of those months and he was actually normal. He only had to add to the douchebag jar every other day as opposed to every day. They were even becoming sort of friends because apparently boyfriend-Theon likes to get Sansa’s opinion on how to dote on his girlfriend. It was cute, which was why when Theon comes home looking as broken as an abandoned puppy, Sansa is game with the boys to taking him out and getting him shitfaced drunk.

She’s not much of a drinker herself. Sansa doesn’t like to lose control. As a Scottish woman from a very Scottish family, this is practically unheard of, but her mother is from a posh family in Oxford, who doesn’t believe in drinking in excess, so that’s probably where she gets it from. It works out in their little ragtag group because by ten-thirty, Theon and Robb are so drunk they’re swaying and stumbling into anyone in a ten-metre radius, and Sansa just knows she’s going to have to shove them in a taxi soon.

Bitch,” Jon slurs beside her. The two of them are leaning against a table, watching as the two idiots tell some wild joke to a group of girls, who look way too young for them.

“What?”

He glances down at her for a brief second before returning his focus on the boys. “Theon’s ex. She was a bloody bitch.”

“What actually happened?” Sansa asks. She doesn’t know the story and she’s too afraid to ask Theon in case he starts crying, because drunk Theon? She can handle that. Emotional and crying Theon? That’s out of her realm.

Jon sighs and angles his body towards hers so he can lean in to speak more privately.

It is incredibly unfair how attractive he is. Sansa shouldn’t even be thinking that he’s hot because he’s her flatmate, and over the past few months, Jon’s become something like a best friend to her. They spend most weekends together lying on the sofa watching Netflix and drinking wine. He’ll occasionally drop by the preschool she works at if it’s his day off to bring her lunch. And if he’s working late, Sansa will wait up for him just to make sure he’s home in one piece and there’s someone there for him to talk to if it’s a particularly gruesome fire. She doesn’t want to ruin that by something as stupid as attraction.

“She told Theon that he spends an unreasonable amount of time with us,” Jon says lowly, the timbre of his voice sending shivers up her spine. “She actually told him that he shouldn’t have flatmates at his age and gave him an ultimatum to either move in with her or break up.”

“He chose us?” Sansa’s voice wavers and she forgets all about Jon and his stupidly attractive face and body because she’s suddenly overcome with such affection for Theon. Yeah, he’s a bit perverse and has no brain-to-mouth filter, but he chose them.

“Of course he chose us,” Jon says, looking at her incredulously. “Theon may be a prick most of the time but he’s loyal.”

“He just gives off the impression that he’d drop us for the next best thing,” she admits with shame colouring her tone.

To Jon’s credit, he chuckles and touches her shoulder gingerly. “I’m not saying he’s not an opportunistic twat or that he won’t screw us over one day but never intentionally.”

That sounds more like the Theon she knows, but even so, Sansa can’t find it in herself to really hate him for being that kind of person. It’s just who he is. With a father like Balon Greyjoy, it kind of makes sense for him to be the way he is, but Jon’s right. He is good. Given the chance, he would do the right thing – which is exactly the moment Sansa spots his ex-girlfriend and anger curls deep in her chest.

“Wait here,” she tells Jon and starts forward without waiting for a response. As Sansa gets closer and closer to Naiyla Rochelle, she starts to realise she doesn’t exactly have a plan. She wants to punch her but that probably isn’t going to help Theon any. She could tell her if she ever contacts Theon again, Sansa will have her killed and hide her body in the river or something, but that seems very extreme and hyperbolic.

Naiyla,” she greets with a wide obviously fake smile. “It’s good to see you again.”

The brunette startles at seeing Sansa but plasters on an equally fake smile. “Sansa, hi. How are you?”

“Pretty great.” She’s at least a good foot taller than Naiyla so she uses her height to her advantage, straightening her limbs to appear more intimidating. “I’m so sorry to hear about you and Theon. It’s such a shame. But I guess it worked in my favour, you know?” She smiles bashfully. “I’ve always had the biggest crush on Theon.”

“Really, you?” Naiyla looks sceptical.

“Are you kidding?” Sansa says with wide eyes. “He’s a bit rough around the edges, I admit, but when he cares about someone, he’s loyal till the very end. He’ll wade through trash just to get back to the people he loves.” She glances behind her and waves in Theon’s general direction. “Oh, I have to run now. So nice to see you again. Have a good night, Naiyla.”

When she saunters back to Jon, he has one brow arched and a bemused smile on his face. “What did you say to her? She looks ready to kill you.”

Sansa smirks. “Nothing. I was the perfect lady.”

“Yeah,” Jon smiles, fond. “I bet you were.”

+++

Sansa goes away to a teacher convention for four days. It’s the longest she’s been apart from the boys in seven months and she really misses them.

She misses the lazy afternoons with her brother sitting on the roof of their building. She misses Theon yelling and shouting at the football match as he simultaneously tries to explain to her what’s going on. She misses Jon and his hugs and how he always smells like smoke and something distinctly him. She misses the way he catches her eye across the breakfast table and gives her a small barely-there smile. God, it’s pathetic but she even misses the way he would argue with her about the best way to handle problems in the flat.

When Sansa finally returns, it’s to an empty flat and she can’t help the kernel of disappointment from ricocheting around in her stomach. She wasn’t expecting a welcome back party but she did expect something. Dropping her suitcase in her room, Sansa immediately goes to take a shower because three hours on a bus has made her feel gross and sticky. But once she’s done, there’s still no one around. In fact, by the time Sansa finishes her dinner, she’s beginning to get a little worried about where everyone is. It’s a Sunday so they should all be home. None of them ever do anything on a Sunday.

To Flat Fam

Sansa: Where are you guys?

Barely a minute goes by before she gets a response.

Robb: Ur home!? I thought u were getting back on the 10th!

Sansa winces at her brother’s text speak. She hates text speak.

Sansa: It is the 10th!

Robb: Oh shit. Sorry Sans. Theon n I are in Manchester for the footy. We’re getting the late train back. Won’t be in till midnight.

Sansa: Okay. Where’s Jon?

Robb: Wait is he not in his room?

Sansa: No.

Abruptly, her phone starts buzzing and it’s Robb ringing her.

“Uh hello?”

“Okay, so don’t yell at us but we didn’t tell you because we didn’t want to worry you,” Robb greets without preamble.

“What are you on about?”

Her brother sighs heavily on the other end of the line. It’s a bit of a strain to hear him over the roaring crowd in the background. “So Jon, our resident idiot, got himself hurt during a house fire. He had a concussion, a couple of fractured ribs and he lost a lot of blood. He’s okay now but he’s supposed to be on house rest.”

Sansa’s heart slows to a worrying pace. The very thought that she could’ve lost Jon and no one even thought to tell her is making her body shut down, like it just doesn’t know how to react.

“He’s at the station,” Sansa says mechanically, working on autopilot now. “I have to go.”

“Sansa, don’t –”

But she’s already hung up and grabbed someone’s jumper from the back of a chair. Coincidentally, it’s Jon’s. His scent overwhelms her and she’s stuck between being furious with him and just wanting to bury her face in his chest so she can breathe him in and be sure he’s really there.

It takes her nearly twenty minutes to reach the station. The entire time people have been giving her a wide berth as she stomps through town in Jon’s way too large jumper, her pyjama bottoms and the three-inch heeled boots she left lying by the front door. It’s probably not going to get her on any street style list but she’s glad for the space it’s providing her.

When she enters the station, her eyes immediately zero in on one of Jon’s coworker. She’s met all of them several times now at house parties and pub nights, so she doesn’t hesitate to grab him by the shirt.

“Where’s Jon?” Sansa demands. He shrinks from her glare. “Edd, I’m not kidding around. Where is he?”

“Uh… upstairs. In the… um, office.”

Unclenching her fist from around Edd’s shirt, Sansa continues to stomp her way upstairs until she sees the office and barges in. Jon jumps from his seat with a hand over his heart as he stares up at her.

“Not one text!” Sansa shouts at him. “I didn’t get one text from you this entire weekend. You know, at first, I thought to myself, ‘oh he’s probably busy,’ so I didn’t overthink it, but I just found out from Robb that you were in an accident?” He opens his mouth to reply but she cuts him off. “What if it was more serious? What if you had died? And the last thing we ever said to each other was just… I don’t know. I don’t even remember, Jon! I can’t even –” Her voice breaks and she realises belatedly she’s crying. “I can’t remember!”

Jon’s up and out of his chair in seconds, cupping her face in between his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Sansa,” he murmurs between kisses to every inch of her cheeks. “But I’m here. I’m here and I’m alive and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t promise that,” Sansa points out, glaring at him even though she’s still crying. “No one can promise that.”

“Okay, how about I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life however short or long it is talking to you every day?” Jon suggests with a faint smile.

She shakes her head. “That’s silly. You don’t have to talk to me every day.”

“But I want to,” he says seriously. “I want to talk to you all of the time. When I don’t, it’s like – nothing feels right, like I’m missing something.” He leans forward slowly to give her ample time to move away and kisses her. It’s barely there, just the soft press of lips, before he’s pulling back. “I’m so bloody in love with you, Sansa.”

Instead of responding, Sansa grabs the collar of his shirt and drags him back to her so she can show him just how much she loves him too, how no one’s opinion has ever meant more to her than his, how he can fix any bad day just by wrapping his arms around her and letting her cling onto him.

When they’re lying in her bed later that night, Sansa rolls over, her cheek pressed into his bare chest and whispers, “I love you too, Jon.”

+++

“You two are real cute and all but I do not want to walk into my own home and be greeted by the sight of my best friend and my baby sister having sex.”

Sansa untucks herself from Jon’s side so she can turn and roll her eyes at her brother. “We’re literally cuddling on the sofa fully clothed.”

“Yeah, well, this is a PDA-free zone,” Robb huffs as he disappears into the kitchen with the groceries, while Theon walks up to the back of the sofa with an awkward smile on his face.

“Uh Sans… Can I talk to you for a second?”

She nods and then turns to Jon to see if he knows what’s going on but her boyfriend just shrugs. Sansa follows Theon out of the living room to the corridor. He looks even more uncomfortable now than he did before, which is really bizarre. She’s never seen him this awkward in her life.

“I ran into Naiyla today,” Theon says. “Apparently, she thinks we’re together?”

Sansa barks out a laugh. “Oh my god, I forgot all about that!”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Remember when we took you out after she broke up with you?” she asks, to which he nods. “I saw her there too and I might’ve told her I had a huge crush on you and insinuated she was a pile of trash.” Sansa shrugs, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry…”

“Sorry?” Theon repeats and laughs loudly, drawing her into a hug. “Oh no, don’t ever fucking apologise for calling her trash! I mean that’s awesome. Thanks, Sans! I didn’t even know you liked me that much.” And in typical Theon fashion, he winks at her.

“Don’t push it,” Sansa says, heaving a sigh. “I like you a small amount but I hate Naiyla more for what she did to you.”

Theon sniggers. “Yeah, she’s a fucking bitch. Tried to get back together and everything.”

No, really!”

“Yeah, apparently she ‘missed me so much’,” Theon mocks and rolls his eyes. “Never again.”

“I’m glad you’re over her,” she says emphatically, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Honestly, you can do way better.”

“It has been like, nearly a year since we broke up, Sans,” Theon says. “I’m ready to move on and whatever.”

“Good! That’s really good. It took me awhile too after Harry but…” She glances back towards the living room to the sounds of Jon’s laughter. “It was worth it to go through all of that shit to get to him.”

A rare genuine smile appears on Theon’s face and she almost wants to comment on it but his next words are even more surprising that she doesn’t get a chance.

“I’ve never seen either of you look so happy… but it’s not just that. It’s like you’re both finally at peace or something. I don’t know.” He shrugs a little bashfully, like he doesn’t want anyone to know he can actually have meaningful thoughts. “It’s nice to see, that’s all.”

“Aww, Theon, you do have feelings!”

“Oh fuck off, Sansa.”

Your Ginger Housemate - Part 2

Number two! Remember, I’m open to all sorts of questions or requests because I haven’t received one yet!

Heads Up: Very minor swearing [this will most likely occur in most if not the rest of the stories.]

Want to read the rest?: Part 1 HERE | Part 3 HERE  | Part 4 HERE | Part 5 HERE | Part 6 HERE | Part 7 (½) HERE |  Part 7 (2/2) HERE


Originally posted by dont-forget-theromance

You’d just gotten back to your apartment from grocery shopping. Usually, you’d be able to make the trip back quickly. However, this week was different. This week, you were catering for an extra person. A person with an enormous appetite! The load had more than doubled, making the walk home so much harder. 

You paused at the front door. Although Jerome been here for a week and a half, it still gave you a shock each time you saw Jerome in your apartment. You’d warmed up to each other in a considerably short amount of time. After your initial fear of him had all but depleted, you realised he wasn’t going to do anything to you. If anything, he seemed to enjoy the company. He’d still frighten you, especially when he would just turn up at your doorway. You wouldn’t know how long he was there for, but you knew he’d been there for awhile. Jerome seemed to be able to walk around making no noise at all. He’d always make it his mission to scare you whenever he wanted. That usually included coming up behind you and saying something as simple as “Boo,” in your ear, his chin practically brushing against your shoulder. This, of course, would cause you to jump and usually yell in fright. You’d turn around and glare at him which would simply cause him to cackle even louder. You’d then have to tell him to shut up. Otherwise, the neighbours would hear. It wouldn’t do much. He’d cover his mouth but just burst out laughing once again. Either way, he had made your life a lot more… interesting.

After the effort of unlocking the door and opening it with your foot, you walked into your little fantasy world - that’s what you liked to call it anyway… A fantasy world which had been practically trashed! Jerome sat in the middle of the room clearly too busy to care you had come home.

“What the hell Valeska! I leave you for an hour, and this is what I come back too? What is all this junk? It’s only 6:30 for goodness sake!”

The dining room table, chairs, the lounge, television, bookshelf, and lamps had all been pushed against the walls. Leaving a large space full of duffel bags. Their contents spilt across the floor.

Jerome looked up and smirked, tilting his head to the side. “Uh, ‘this junk,’, is my stuff. And I would appreciate, y/n, if you kindly did not touch anything. Thank you… did you get that stuff I asked for?” 

He looked down as he asked the question, seemingly too busy to care if you needed assistance. His mood swings almost gave you whiplash. He just went from amused to serious in a split second! Shaking your head, you attempted to step over everything, but it was precarious. The shopping bags causing you to almost topple into a pile of what you would class as junk.

With a huff, you hauled the bags onto the kitchen counter and then turned to confront Jerome. He was smiling! He must’ve been amused with your less than easy trip across the room. Now you were mad,

“Yes, I did. But I don’t understand why you’d need the stain remover, all those different steel polishes and a packet of rags. You didn’t even bother to give a hand, but you watched? You’re ridiculous! Where’d you even get all this stuff?”

Jerome begrudgingly looked up, obviously irritated. 

“Here and there… what? Don’t think I wouldn’t have made stashes. I wasn’t letting the stupid Feds chuck all my stuff.” At that, he rolled his eyes, shook his head and continued, as if you, were the one with issues!

“What’re you doing anyway? And what’s with all the bags? Don’t give me a half ass answer either. You live under my roof, I wanna’ know what you’ve dragged under it.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Do. Them. All.

oh! um- well… I GUESS HERE WE GO. LONG POST IS LONG:

1. what is your sexuality? 

2. what gender do you identify as? 

Cis lady

3. how long have you been aware of your sexuality/gender? 

It has been a long journey, that started with me thinking I was bisexual (but picky!) in highschool to me thinking I was pansexual (but homoromantic!) in college to me watching the “Battle of Times Square” scene in Ghostbusters last year and realizing I will never actually be attracted to a man when I have seen the one true light of lesbianism.

Originally posted by random-lezbean

Gender-wise, I did some soul-searching in college when a lot of my friends finally felt safe enough to transition, and other than an unhealthy obsession with beard-growing, I’m good out here as a chick. 👌✨

4. do you have any preferences? 

Girls who look like they could kill me with their bare hands, if they wanted to, but really just want to gently comb their fingers through my hair.

5. share a positive memory about coming out! 

I don’t really have any. I don’t really “come out” to straight people anymore because the one time I did, the friend I told immediately asked if I was attracted to/going to hit on her.

6. how do you feel about pride month? 

We should all be given the whole month off paid and trans/genderqueer/NB people should get an additional $1000 cash. 

(I like it.)

7. do you participate in pride related events? any other events? 

I get a cold or something happens every June where I don’t feel up to going to Pride, but like HOPEFULLY THIS YEAR? (Baby’s first Pride at 25 is gonna be WEIRD. Someone hold my hand.)💦

8. how do you feel about lgbtq roles in media? 

I WANT MORE. I WANT THEM ALL. EVERYONE IS GAY.

9. do you feel pride in who you are? 

Yeah, I really like who I am and I’m proud of what I had to go through to get here. I like that things feel right in my life, for once.

10. who has been your supportive idols in your self discovery? 

Looking back, Karolina Dean and Xavin from Runaways were some of the first gays to really have an impact on my life. When Xavin starts IDing as female it like… struck a chord with me about their relationship. I was just like, “yeah that feels right.”

Hannah Hart was a BIG DEAL for me and meeting her was so nice. It’s so great to see an openly lesbian woman being real and kind and succeeding. Watching her evolve and grow over time has been amazing. Also, that bod now, like omg Harto-san, you have become your true self and that self is making me BLUSH.

Originally posted by lchyeahyeah

Rebecca Sugar is weirdly important to me, being in the animation industry, myself. Like… it’s so good, seeing her make a show about girls loving other girls after BEING PERSONALLY TOLD that gay content was inappropriate for children while I was in school. Noelle Stevenson and the crew on Lumberjanes are similar, because you get told you can’t make queer content for kids by the old guard. That it won’t sell, that it CAN’T sell in certain markets and that kids won’t get it. All I can think of is that HAD I known at 7 that girls can like girls maybe I would’ve asked Emma out after class and my life would be different. I don’t want that to keep happening to little girls and I’m so glad that people like Rebecca and Noelle exist.

@yamino and @summerlightning are like… life goals and wife goals. I’ve been following them for years and sometimes I just think how I’d want like EXACTLY their lives. Make gay webcomics with my pretty wife. That’s all I want to do. (Hey, read their comic @sisterclaire​, it’s gay af, you’ll love it.)

Hayley Kiyoko is a biracial sapphic queen and I love her and she is so nice and genuine and she gives GREAT HUGS. She sings songs about girls who like girls and they’re GOOD SONGS. Not just like campy gender-ambiguous low-budget stuff. She makes… god, her music videos. And I have met this small human and been to her concerts and the feeling of love and safety around that night was LIFE ALTERING.

Originally posted by saraquinsface

(Also, can we talk about how that’s the flag I gave her hanging up on stage behind her and how much I love her and still cry about that? See question #26 for that story.)

Kate McKinnon, see #3 for the latest in Eevachu self-discoveries. She’s just… SHE’S REALLY IMPORTANT TO ME. She’s famous and she’s weird and she’s out there playing big roles as an openly lesbian woman. She got me through 2016, which was honestly, THE FUCKING WORST. And she helped me accept that I can be a lesbian and still succeed.

Originally posted by myloveholtzy

BASICALLY, I WANNA SEE ALL THE SAPPHIC WOMEN SUCCEED, SO THAT I THINK I CAN SUCCEED AND FEEL SAFE DOING SO. REPRESENTATION MATTERS.

12. what sort of advice to have you lgbtq teens? 

Your parents are just people and one day, you’ll be better than them. You are strong, and you will find the people you are meant to be your people. You’re going to evolve and change throughout your whole life. Don’t be all tumblr witchhunt-y; people make mistakes and grow. Adults barely have any idea what they’re doing, we’ve just done it more.

13. have you come out to friends and family? 

Like occasionally? I only formally “come out” to other gays, so that we may huddle together like penguins in a storm of heternormativity.

14. how do you feel about the term “coming out” ? 

I don’t like that it’s made to seem like such a huge deal and that it’s a one time thing. Like… it’s such a pain and you have to do it over and over again and then all the straight people in the room get WEIRD ABOUT IT and you’re now the outsider and the feeling fucking SUCKS. I just don’t like that it’s a thing. The actual term is fine for what it is, since I don’t have a solutions otherwise.

15. do you believe there is a “closet” to come out of? 

Yeah, and it sucks that people feel unsafe enough that they have to be in one.

16. any tips on coming out? 

I am literally the worst person to ask about this because I just like… don’t. lol I let people figure it out. Non-queers love testing out their “gaydar.”

17. what’s your biggest pet peeve when it comes to lgbtq characterization in media? 

Lesbians for the male gaze. HEY BUDDY, LITERALLY THE OPPOSITE POINT OF LESBIANISM. NO BOYS ALLOWED.

18. what’s your favorite parts of lgbtq characterization in media? 

When queer people get to play queer characters and make their own queer stories and I get to sit there and cry because it’s so GENUINE AND GOOD.

19. what did your teachers say about the lgbtqa community in school? 

Well, my animation teachers would low key be like that won’t sell (see that thing I said about Rebecca Sugar in #10). But I had a gay/straight alliance in highschool, so it was fine.

20. do you practice safe sex with the same gender? 

At this point, I would probably practice any sex with the same gender. (But yes, please.)

21. what’s an absolute turn off for you in the opposite/same gender? 

I don’t really like traditional butch/femme role types and I’m not into really masculine ladies. I like girls who are flexible with their gender expression like I am.

22. what’s an absolute turn on for you in the opposite/same gender? 

I am a sucker for a strong independent femme in heels that would love to smash the patriarchy and then smash me.

23. how do you feel about lgbtq clubs/apps/websites? 

I wish there were good ones and that I had time to find them or had a senior-qualified gay to tell me where they are in Toronto. WHERE ARE THEY???

25. how does you country view the lgbtq community? 

Pictured: Justin Trudeau, the Prime Minister at a pride parade.

On the surface, it’s pretty good. We also have to be careful because there are just some dirtbag conservatives waiting for us to get complacent and take away our rights. Currently, there’s a huge fucking thing about a trans right bill, so I’ve gotten to see which of my family member’s are absolute scum.

They’re here, they hate queers, but they’re usually drunk uncles.

26. favorite lgbtq actor/actress?

Hi, yes, hello, haaaaave you met Flat Kate? (see question #10)

Also, Hayley Kiyoko, because like…

…BIG GAY FLAG STORY TIME. So I went to her concert in Toronto this spring and I had everyone outside the venue that I could leave messages on it for her. All of the messages were so funny and heartfelt and there were so many baby gays at the concert and my old gay heart grew 3 sizes that day because they were there with friends and their parents and I was just SO HAPPY AND PROUD.

Then I meet Hayley because bitch splurged on VIP tickets. She gives the best hugs, and she took the time with fans and she was so genuinely happy to be there. We had a great talk and I was just thanking her for being her and doing what she do. And if you know me, you know how important it is that there’s biracial representation and she like got that. And then I give her the flag, which I had drawn on because I’M THAT KID and she’s saying how she’s gonna treasure it and read all of them and I’m like dying and trying not to openly WEEP.

Then I get into the concert which is ALL SAPPHICS, so I’m like the most comfortable that I have ever been in my entire life. Then the sound guys are setting up and they PULL OUT MY FLAG. Now, everyone knew me from when I had gotten people to write messages on the BIG GAY FLAG (”COME SIGN MY BIG GAY FLAG” is what I had been screaming), so when this flag comes out all the girls around me are like, “Girl, that’s your big gay flag.” And then I ASCENDED TO THE ASTRAL PLANE AND IT WAS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE. 

27. any tips for heterosexual and/or cisgender people on how to handle lgbtq events/news? 

Don’t fucking make it about you. You aren’t the centre of the goddamn universe. No, you aren’t hearing about “gay news” too much for how many of us there are.

29. how do you feel about receiving questions about your sexuality/gender?

I’m cagey about it. It always feels so uncomfortable when it’s non-queer people asking. Queer people asking is fine and we can have a good dialogue usually, but cishet people treat me like I’m a novelty and it’s gross sometimes.

Like… dyke is tired, I don’t have time to give you the Introduction to LGBTQ+ class.

Dadster/Babybones Headcanons

I’m bored, so I’m just gonna compile all my headcanons here. Some are dumb, some I think could actually be true if the dadster theory is true, some are just random. Also, some of these I talked about with my friend @zucchinimuffin and we came up with some pretty funny/cute scenarios with the skelefam, so I’ll include those too. Oh, and these are just my personal thoughts on this particular Undertale theory, they are in no way canon, so no hate please. However, I do encourage leaving your own headcanons in the comments or reblogs!

Also, so this post isn’t too long, I’ll put everything under the cut.

Keep reading

Do Your Worst (Draco X Harry)

Type: Fluff

Warnings: None

Summary: When Draco gets called in by Scorpius’ potions teacher, he gets a pleasant surprise when he finds out who it is

Word count: 885

Note: In this imagine, Harry never got together with Ginny, and Albus Potter doesn’t exist (I’m sorry okay don’t shoot me)


Requests are open!


Draco Malfoy never thought he’d be walking the stone corridors of Hogwarts School again. And yet there he was, expensive black Italian leather shoes making no noise on the silent stone corridors that lead to the potions classroom.

He’d been called in by a ‘Mr Potter’ to discuss his son’s progress in Potions that year, and fought back a wave of emotion at the sound of the name. He mustn’t let himself get his hopes up - the surname ‘Potter’ must be very common. He found himself, fist raised, about to knock on the door to the classroom he hadn’t entered in years.

Three sharp knocks echoed along the stone corridor.

“Come in.” called a voice from behind the door.

The door swung open, and Draco felt his breath catch in his throat, as he saw the mop of brown shaggy hair bent over some parchment. Cliche really, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d always had a curious liking for Potter, which was something he’d never admit to of course. After a few seconds, the professor looked up from his writing.

The exact same glittering green eyes met his from behind the same round glasses. A grin broke out across Harry’s face.

“Draco Malfoy?” he asked, though more as a statement that a question.

“Harry Potter?” Draco replied, much in the same manner.

Harry nodded as he gestured for Draco to take the seat opposite him, which he did, smoothing out a non existent crease in his crisp, black suit. There was a moment of awkward silence, until Potter took the inicitave to break it.

“So, how’ve things been for you Draco?” Harry asked, pushing his glasses up, something that Draco had always found oddly attractive.

“Nothing too interesting.” swallowed Draco, tugging at his tight collar. “Me and Astoria got divorced a while back, and Scorpius came to live with me. It can be difficult at times, but we manage. How about you, Potter? Met anyone special yet?”

“Nope, not unless you count my cat.” laughed Harry, watching as Draco managed to momentarily excited but still smoulderingly sexy at the same time.

The bastard.

“Anyway, you called me in to discuss Scorpius’ progress in Potions?” asked Draco, diverting the conversation away from personal matters.

“Yes, yes I did.” said Harry, running his fingers through his still disheveled hair. “Scorpius is doing exceptionally well in Potions classes, so much so that I think he finds lessons almost insultingly easy. I am of the opinion that he be moved up a year group for Potions classes, to challenge him further. I called you in merely to ask for your permission for this to go ahead. Do I have this permission?”

After a moment of silence, Harry repeated his question, snapping Draco out of his trance.

“Yes, yes of course you do.” muttered Draco, attention still elsewhere.

Merlin, Potter had aged well. He’d lost his skinny frame and filled out in muscle, with strong arms and a toned chest under his tight t-shirt.

“Do you want to come get a butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks with me?” blurted Draco, mentally slapping himself when he saw the surprised look on Potter’s face. He breathed an almost audible sigh of relief when Harry smiled.

“Of course Draco.”


*time skip*

“Draco…” Harry began awkwardly. They were far done with butterbeer and had moved on to firewhiskey some time ago, yet it didn’t make the initiation of this conversation any easier.

“I know what you’re going to ask Harry. You’re going to ask why I didn’t reveal your identity to Belatrix and the others all those years ago? Why I refused to let them torture you?” muttered Draco, allowing one strand of white blonde hair to stray into his eyes before brushing it out of the way.

“Yes, that was what I was intending to ask. You hated me Malfoy. Why save me?” asked Harry, downing the remains of his glass and setting it to one side, looking the blonde straight in the eye.

“You’ll probably think I’m rather an idiot after this, but I intend to say it anyway.” began Draco. “I’ve always liked you Potter, in more than just a friendly way. I suppose I tried to hide it, because then what would my father say? His only son, pureblood Malfoy, a fag? He would have disowned me. But I don’t really care about him any more, I just care about saying this to you, right now. I didn’t reveal who you were because how could I stand to torture the only thing I’d ever had in my life at that point that I truly loved? And now I’m aware that I’m just nervously babbling and-”

Harry cut Draco off by pressing one long, slim finger over his lips, the touch sending shivers through both of them.

“I’ve always had feelings for you too Draco.” laughed Harry. “I suppose we could have saved ourselves a lot of shit had we just admitted our feelings for each other.”

There was a moment of silence that quickly became uncomfortable, as Draco’s piercing dark eyes met Harry’s smouldering green ones.

“Harry, I’m going to kiss you now, because I honestly don’t think I can physically restrain myself.” breathed Draco.

“I’ve been waiting to hear those words for a decade Malfoy. Do your worst.”

Pull me close, if you think you can hang

Pairing: Jughead x Female!Reader

Summary: You’re a Serpent and Serpents always take care of their own. After Jughead’s initiation in to the gang you decide to help clean him up. You end up learning about his break up with Betty and offer the heartbroken boy a…distraction.

Warnings: swear words and smutty themes

A/N: This is heavily inspired by the final few scenes of S2 Ep5…General consensus said cringe, but I was heckin hype!


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Be Still, Wanderer: A Story of Love, Loss, & Science


The human brain weighs as much as six human hearts. But sometimes the heart feels so heavy there might as well be no brain at all. Looking at a picture of her—the person who, for the past five years, I’ve variously known as Pooh Bear, Starmate, My Love, and Freckles—I use my finger to trace the outline of her face. Our past life together flickers in my thoughts. Tears and laughter and pain and joy, I see it all playing out in my brain, I feel it all in my heart. Things are over between us now, our relationship ending right along with our twenties. Good things must come to end, that’s what a refrigerator magnet told me once. Why should my relationship be any exception? It’s all for the better, I tell myself. But I don’t believe it. Instead, I just feel frozen. I stare at her picture, the room motionless, my memories alive. The freeze is interrupted only by my heartbeat. Someone tapping from inside, awakening me, reminding me I’m not dead, pounding out the old Plathian brag: ‘I am, I am, I am.’ The room is still, apparently serene—but here’s my heart pattering away, indifferent to the stillness of its surroundings. 

My mind feels overwhelmed with thoughts of loss. I want to think about something else—anything else. I decide to think about my thoughts. I have thoughts. Here they are, there they go, zipping around inside me. Here, like every other human, I have this three-pound mass of wrinkly, electrified meat trapped inside my skull, and it is busy. Busy sending signals throughout my nervous system—more signals than all the phones in the world combined—busy serving as the organic epicenter of my thoughts and actions, busy making me. My thoughts, the result of innumerable neurons and more synaptic connections than stars in the universe, coming together to create a self, an identity. I want to reach inside and pluck out one of these mysterious thoughts, but they are too elusive. The entire brain—no, the whole damn system— is at work, the brain just a bulbous gob situated at the top of a spinal cord that stretches and connects through all of me. I have a nerve—the vagus nerve—coupled to my hindbrain that snakes its way through my heart, lungs, and gut, never taking a break from its role as bodily regulator. ‘Vagus’ is Latin for 'wanderer’, and it’s largely thanks to this wandering nerve and its detours through my digestive tract that I felt butterflies in my stomach as I fell in love, and that I felt aches in my stomach as I fell out of love. 

And it’s not just the tortuous nerves and blood vessels that are hard at work. Here, like every other human, I have within me an entire ecosystem of living creatures. There are more bacterial cells in my body than human cells, which means I am more alien than me. My gut alone acts as the home for enough bacteria that if each one were a human being they could populate 15,000 planet Earths. Flowering flora alive and wriggling and eating and farting and breathing, none of them able to exist without me, and me unable to exist without them. Most are helpers, some enemies, generations living out their lives within me, subsisting on my existence. I am the God of a microbial cosmos. So much life and motion inside, and so much motion inside of that motion. All of them, all of me, and all that’s around me, everything that makes up this frozen tableau, is at its most basic level utterly dynamic. The subatomic scaffolding of these stolid and solid walls, if we could look close enough, would be jittering and jiggling and racing, particles with all sorts of exotic names—bosons, gluons, charm quarks, and muons—popping in and out of actuality, moving at incredible and erratic speeds, blurry and vibrant and empty, abstract entities not even existing in the way we like things to exist, but as probabilities, as potential thing-like things, ghostly and ever-moving, never stopping, forever in an ethereal dance that is, starting now, called the quantum shuffle.

All this invisible motion around me, I decide I need to move as well. 

I stand. 

Everything still seems so still. 

I take a deep breath. 

My feet are firmly planted, but the ground underneath—not so much. 

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The Nanny

Dr. Melinda May has been looking to hire a nanny. But between her and her daughter, Daisy, Melinda is starting to think she won’t be able to find anyone who can make both of them happy. When she hires Phil Coulson to do the job, however, Melinda finds out just how untrue that belief had been.

A Philindaisy au.

Also on AO3.


Melinda closed the door behind Nanny Candidate #14 before turning around and letting out a short sigh.

Another failed attempt.

Each person she interviewed seemed so promising in the beginning, but none turned out to be a good fit. She was too protective of her four-year-old to leave her with just anybody, and Melinda’s gut instincts told her she hadn’t found “The One” just yet, even though she’d given several a chance. As if Melinda wasn’t picky enough herself, Daisy hadn’t liked a single one of the potential nannies that had watched her for the past month either. Between the two of them, Melinda was starting to think there was no one in the world who would make both of them happy.

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Essays in Existentialism: FtWD IV

In the dark, there is nothing to see on the water. The sky melds into the ocean and the stars jump from the heavens to the sea, skinny dipping with reckless abandon and no reverence at all for the inevitable eyes upon them. The glow of the lights, the small amount of lantern glow, of solar-powered flashlights, of candles whimpering in the breeze, they all create a dome, create a universe that is impossible to truly gaze out from honestly. They shroud the inhabitants with light and they mask the dark, just a stopgap between the inevitable and stronger night.

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