i had to i'm so not sorry

When your SUPER HANDSOME BOYFRIEND™ is also really cute and won’t let you go to work 🐤

This is the only time I want to really approach the subject but guys… season 2 of shadowhunters so far has been real good, and a vast improvement from season 1. There is no way that, realistically, the non-main couple of the show can get all the things you want them to have. Just because something happens in the plot you don’t agree with doesn’t mean the writers are racist, homophobic or sexist. Not including malec sex scenes because malec aren’t the main couple and there are other characters too is NOT homophobic. If we want realistic representation of their relationship we need to want to be treated like the heterosexual ships on the show (yes I wish we had seen a morning after scene BUT..) that also means no demanding special treatment. If the show didn’t have time to show us how Jace is right now, or how Luke is and what he’s up to, or give proper build up to Climon then it’s unlikely they have time to show Malec. It’s not homophobic. That’s just what it’s like running a show with so many main, central characters who all have their own development and plot. If Magnus and Alec weren’t getting any scenes alone we would complain that they were being reduced to their relationship. If they don’t get a lot of together scenes, it’s apparently because the writers are being inherently homophobic.

Also, Izzy having the addiction story line is GOOD. It’s good to broach subjects that are tricky like this and deal with them in, so far, a pretty decent way. It’s not racist to make the Latina of the show the addict! There is not anything inherently racist about the writers choosing to take a strong, previously seemingly untouchable woman, and show us a vulnerable, REALISTIC side to her.

What I mean by all of this, is that everyone needs to stop digging so deep to find problems with the show and try and label the new writers or show runners as problematic. Please just appreciate what the show does give us with representation rather than constantly demanding more to the point where the plot suffers. If you don’t enjoy the plot because it sucks, fine. If you don’t enjoy the plot because everything that you want to happen can’t happen, then you have obviously never watched TV before. Sometimes shitty stuff happens in shows to further development or establish plot points… stop presuming the worst.

Also, as a side note, consider that the writers may not want to show Malec in a sexual light at Matt or Harry’s request or even in an effort to not fetishise the relationship and reduce it to something sexual. I don’t necessarily agree with that, but that may be their thinking. It’s likely it is all in an effort to prevent homophobia rather than instigate it.

i was tagged by the gorgeous dragneel queen @tartatail and others over a month ago whoops for a selfie thingy, i cannot live w/o snow filters i look less tired @ god help me

i’m tagging my beautiful @fulllbusters, @sestets, @tobeiru, and @witchnyx!! don’t do it if you don’t feel comfortable <33

                                     = THREE OF SWORDS =

                            - separation - heartbreak - rejection - grief - 


Hey, I haven’t had the energy or motivation to work on this recently, and the guilt has kept me in a vicious mental cycle. I think I need a hiatus.

The project is definitely not dying, I really want to put more work into this, but between work, attempting to take on a new years worth of a short online course, and the mountains if personal projects I suddenly want to work on, I don’t think i can keep all this up at once.

I’m aiming to create my own original content, and while this project is so dear to me I do want to revisit it. I hate to do this because I have difficulty completing anything, but I feel I need to pursue my own personal stories for a while.

Thank you all for the support thus far, I’m very active on my main art blog if you wanna see other stuff I make.

Hopefully this wont be goodbye for too long! And hopefully I can get some other comic projects off the ground (and collaborative works too!)

anonymous asked:

personally i think a lot of people exaggerate when they talk about the gore in ks, i feel like i've seen much much worse. the washing machine thing is probably the worst thing ya gonna see. it's not torture porn imho so i recommend to at least give it a try!

Well, it was a long weekend for me, especially since I had my worst cold of the last few years, which left me unconscious for a full day and right now I’m recovering. The day before that I started to read and then… I expected more. 

It’s not something I would casually recommend, how can I say it? The acting of the characters is certainly unpredictable, but it’s far from being in the good sense and certainly I don’t know what has happened previously in the artist’s life but it’s not something to put to discussion, to put it in quick terms, NOT RECOMMENDED AT ALL.

Even if many people don’t want to accept the story is just a nonsense that only seeks to appeal to the morbid, a torture porn that has no substance, and the mental problems of the characters don’t attract me enough to wait for a solution to them, even seeing it which has happened in the last chapter, I would say that they have even worsened to almost vomiting and insane levels.

I’m so sorry because some of my lovely mutuals recommended to me with a very good intention but certainly this thing is not something I would recommend to anyone else.

Besides that, you want to know the only good thing this manhwa has? 

Exactly, Sang Woo’s abs.


I was tagged by @pureren thank u so much! (‘∀’●)♡

Rules: post your home & lock screens, last song you listened to, and a selfie.

Can you tell I like to keep a theme with my wallpapers? and also…. the langst

I have had these wallpapers for about a week now cuz I tend to get bored pretty easily of them. And also ahhh I just took that selfie yesterday cuz I was going out with some friends and I thought I looked cute ♡

I’m tagging: @spaceprincelance, @garrettshunk, @cheritsundere, @k3ithkogane, @spacemcclain, @cryptidkeiths@cryptidcriss  also anyone who wants to do this tag!

As always, if you don’t want to do the tag, feel free to ignore it.

            I just want to start this by saying holy shit what the fuck, why is there 100 of you??? I’m actual garbage, why are you here??? That being said, I love you all so much and I am so grateful for each and every one of you. Some of you, I still haven’t had a chance to talk to and for that I’m sorry. Whether we’ve talked a thousand times or never once spoke, my inbox and messages are ALWAYS open for all of you. Never hesitate to talk to me even if it’s just a message complaining about something from your day.

            @qceenbambi;; @magicaladept;; @eliotwoah I feel like I have to talk about you three as a package cause you’re always together on my dash. Faith, Klutz, and Kaleb are literally the best. They play their characters so well and they are so sweet. They will turn your dash into an everflowing river of writing perfection. I love all three of you. Also, how do I get inducted into the squad??? haha

            @magnusofbane;; @viirid let me just tell you about Cassidy. I don’t even know where to start. She is my favorite person on this site. She has been such a saint since the first time I spoke to her. Her writing is eternally perfect and I just *swoons*. Magnus and Damianos are so gloriously different. My fav is NOT problematic. I looove you.

the precious snowflakes who I will protect at all costs

@eliotwaxgh;; @warstopper;; @fallenregent;; @arrowbythebooks;; @goldtouched;; @juliawickxer;; @ambitionisfolly;; @girloffillory;; @filloryforgotten;; @remembcr;; @dipsomanes

the babes I want to get to know better

@crescentgemini;; @giingerstallion;; @praelixs;; @amazingspiderling;; @sociopathiques;; @heartisgold;; @thewclfgirl;; @heavenblooded;; @cicerosxphilosophy;; @avidskiier;; @oftaintedhearts;; @ghostofaformerself;; @trueblccd;; @tragiichearts;; @camillebelcourtme;; @justoldnews;; @acquiredcraving;; @aestheticdriven;; @ofcateyes;; @suckerpnch;; @highwarlockxbane;; @midnxghtwhisperings;; @plurimaevoces;; @lightxwoods

Related to the last post I made; Whenever I’m overwhelmed by any emotion / feeling / energy I tend to start physically showcasing my emotions, like flapping my arms or jumping up and down — again things that I can’t really do in public or I’d be seemed odd.

I mention this because I got so excited by that comic by Saku I reblogged earlier that I had to jump up and down and actually strained my ankle, how’s that, I physically injured myself bc I was so hype about aRT

anonymous asked:

something angsty with tsuna, dino and enma (they are my boys thanks to you guys!!) with s/o


~Okay, you guys, if your stomachs are too weak for violence against the pregnant then stay out of Dino’s story. Sorry but you have been warned. I felt pretty terrible writing his that way but my muse wouldn’t listen to me. Sorry in advance. (-_-;)

-admin Adelheid


Tsuna took a healthy swig of the bottle of tequila he had had sent over from the cellar earlier. Around his feet were several bottles of other different liquor but he didn’t mind them all.

He didn’t care for the expensive carpet being stained by the alcohol at his feet. He couldn’t give a fuck about the expensive paintings and furniture that lay around him. Nothing mattered. The world was empty. As empty as his heart…

He rose from his chair and swayed. Gokudera tried to catch him but he shoved the man aside violently.

“Go ‘way…” he muttered in a voice that lost it’s smoothness, burned away by the alcohol. Swaying as he walked out the door. “Wanna be alone…”


“LEAVE ME ALONE!” Tsuna yelled, grabbing a gun from the holster he kept on his chest and randomly shot at his right hand man, missing Gokudera by inches in his drunken effort. Emptying the barrel as you did so much to the bomber’s relief.

No one dared stop him afterward.

Tsuna swayed towards the hall like a ghost and every single denizen of the Vongola mansion made sure they were well out of his way even as the sunken look on his face and the circles under his eyes aroused their pity.

Yes, it was that time of the day again.

Tsuna noticed nothing.

His feet acted as though on auto pilot and led him to the gardens. Crossing through the rose laden arcs and lilac scented blooms. The chilly night gave the scents an ethereal feeling of being somewhere ethereal. Like a beautiful dream.

Just like you…

He trudged forward until he reached the hill that held your headstone. Covered in your beautiful white and red roses. It’s almost as though the very ground itself was embracing you. Holding you away from him and keeping you safe.

He threw the bottle right at it, the glass breaking into a thousand million pieces when it hit a corner of your grave.

And then Tsuna laughed.

And sobbed.

And cried.

On the very edge of madness.

Has it really been six months? Six months since that cancer killed you?  Has it really been six months since you asked him to hold you in his arms as you sat on this very same spot, watching as the sun went down? You have always loved sunsets. You said it was romantic. And somewhere deep inside where the remnants of his childhood lay Tsuna agreed with you.

Has it really been six months since he last heard you say, ‘I love you…’? Has it really been that long since he held you close as your hand lay limp in his palm and felt your heart stop beating as he held you close?

No it can’t be.

It already feels like forever.

Breaking down he knelt on the ground and embraced your headstone, watering it with his tears. Uncaring of the thorns the flowers pricked him with. Uncaring of the blood that seeped through his skin.

What sense was being the most powerful Mafia Boss in the world bring when he can’t even save you? What good was all this power if he can’t even get you to stay by his side?


It was all for nothing without you…


“No. No I will not allow it!”

“You can’t stop me, Father, I’ve made up my mind!”

“You’re too young! You have no idea what you want, boy! Cease and desist this instant!”

“I’m sorry, Father, but I love her. I need her. I want her to be by my side for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t do this. You are my heir. You can’t just go out into the world and live the life of a civilian just for this girl! I’ll accept her into the family if that’s what you want but stay here for God’s sake! I can keep you both safe!”

“She deserves better than that! She doesn’t belong in this world! In our world! I won’t let her be tainted by your sins! I won’t let the Mafia touch her!”

“Do you really think it’s that simple to get away from the Cosa Nostra?! This world is the womb that gave birth to you! No matter how far you go, no matter how well you hide it will find you. And when it does it will swallow you whole!”

“I don’t care! This is what I want. This is the life I’ll live. Go ahead and wallow in this darkness. I’m choosing to live in the light.”

“Even outside the Mafia the world is not a safe place! Please, let me protect you!”

“I’m sorry, Father. Goodbye.”

It would be the last time Dino would speak to his father for the next three years…

Dino had been so young back then. So innocent. Barely even out of short pants.

And yet he was sure he loved you.

All he knew was that he was in love and nothing was going to stop him from being with you. You didn’t want him to break his father’s heart; but neither could you change his mind. You were the only one who looked back as Dino pulled you away from the mansion.

He ignored his legacy, he ignored his Family and he ignored his father’s love. Because you made him feel like he was more than just the heir to a Mafia legacy. You made him see a future that contained more than just blood and hate and shame. For you he was willing to refuse all the wealth and power his father had accumulated in his lifetime to hand over to him someday because your existence, your way of life gave him a choice. Like he was more than he was meant to be.

Dino moved with you in a country across the ocean. He took a series of different, menial jobs here and there while you studied. He ignored every single one of his father’s messages begging him to come home.

Happily, Dino had lived through those years. They were the best years of his life. No burden of a legacy full of bad karma. No darkness hovering over the horizon demanding he belonged to it. No blood on his hands someday… Soon he forgot about that world and settled into this new one. He was so happy when you told him about the baby a couple of years later. Despite your disappointment that your studies would be put on hold you were excited as well.

Dino knew you tried to keep it a secret but he knew you were sending his father pictures of him and your ultrasound results in an effort to reconcile them; such was the kind of person you were. He didn’t mind. Despite failing him he loved his father very much and you knew that. And from the few letters he had managed to find it seemed his father had forgiven him and was wishing him well in this new life he had chosen. Dino was looking forward to a long and happy future with you and the baby…

And then one night, Dino came back.

Old Don Cavallone had been shaken awake by Romario and he had hastily donned a house robe over himself, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste to get to his child. It would be the first time in three years that he would see Dino again and his heart beat excitedly in his chest at such a happy occasion.

But he stopped in his tracks when he caught a glimpse of his son’s face. His heart pounded in dread when he saw Reborn’s face before the hitman pulled his fedora down and left his son’s side as silent as a shadow.

Gone was the soft roundness of Dino’s happy youth. Where was the face of the happily married man in the photographs on his desk? Before him was a man who looked like he had been through hell and back and more.

Dino’s eyes were chips of ice, his cheeks like chiseled granite. A cut marred the once smooth skin of his left cheek. He had wounds and bruises all over. Covered in swathes of bandages that even covered one eye. In that one moment Don Cavallone thought that his son didn’t look like a civilian at all. Dino looked like a veteran of war.


“I’m sorry, Father,” Don Cavallone and Romario held their breath at the sound of Dino’s voice. Even his voice sounded cold, hard. Like a stone grating on asphalt. The fury simmering underneath it was unmistakable. The heart that had once shone from his eyes torn away from his chest. Gone was the youth. Gone was the innocence. In three years, Dino had turned into a man who had seen what the bottom of a barrel looked like. “You were right. You were right all along. No matter how far I ran, no matter how well I hid it still found me. It swallowed me whole and made me see hell. I… was never meant to be free of this darkness.”

Don Cavallone could do nothing but wrap Dino up in his embrace, in which his boy broke down and sobbed just like he did when he was small and had scraped his knee. It broke the Cavallone don’s heart to see his foal so wounded. It wasn’t until Romario had investigated that they found out that you and your baby had been murdered by ordinary burglars on an ordinary night. Of how the murderers held Dino down and made him watch as they violated you and made you lose your child…

And that the only reason why the Cavallone heir was still alive was because Reborn came over, curious about the Mafia heir who threw away his legacy for anyone. He was there just in time to witness the awakening of the Dying Will Flame that killed killed the animals who had killed you right before they shot Dino between the eyes as he knelt on the floor of their little house staring at your dead and violated body, a sea of Flames around him.

Dino shed the last of his tears that day, hiding the man he had become behind a bright smile and a carefree nature. Hiding the lesson of life that he had learned the hard way. The one fact that he will never forget…

…That the light was never his to truly hold…


He had loved you for years.

Following every move you made.

His eyes tracing your cheeks a hundred times. His lips kissing yours for a million more… He didn’t even know how many countless dreams he had of you writhing under his touch. Panting beneath his body.

Whenever you were around too busy to even notice him all Enma could do was watch you with half parted lips and bated breath, struggling to record your every move and sound so he could take it back with him in his bed. So he could pretend to know what it would feel like for you to moan out his name.

And yet you never looked his way. No, never his way. Your eyes only ever turned to one direction and it was always where Tsuna was.

Tsuna was his best friend. Enma would take a bullet for him. But every time you looked at the man’s way he struggled to get behind the brunette so he could pretend you were looking at him with such longing in your eyes.

Oh the nights when he would touch himself just imagining you looking at him like that. Like he was heaven and hell and everything in between. God he wanted you so much. Each time he came hard calling out your name. Sometimes biting into his pillow so no one would hear.

It would have been so simple if it just ended like that. If he could curl into a ball and sleep the want away. But he would stay awake hours after his release pretending you were there beside him, looking back at him with satiated eyes. Smiling sweetly with eyes that told him you loved him. Telling him about what you did today and what your plans were tomorrow.

In the mornings he would wake up. His dreams of you so real he would reach out to you to hold you close by his side only to clutch empty air. And for a bit he would bury his cries in his pillows begging your absent self to want him. Just want him.

Even if it was just for a bit.

Even if it was just a lie…

Forcing you was out of the question. Even though Tsuna did not love you back he knew he would not be able to live with your hate. Your love meant too much to him. If you flinch from the thought of his touch he would probably die, heartsick. He didn’t want just your body alone he needed you. All of you. Body, heart and soul.

And until you could turn your eyes at him like that he was going to wait forever…

And he will never stop trying.

anonymous asked:

quick question holly, what is the “SOTL” and how does it effect the possible on coming season of hannibal. (sorry, im a bit confused about it)

SotL = The Silence of the Lambs, aka the one book in the Thomas Harris Hannibal franchise that Bryan and co have never had the rights to. But at this point it’s hard to say what impact (if any at all) it’s going to have on the new season as the rights issue is complicated as hell apparently. It all depends on what production company they end up with I guess? 

There was a report earlier that if MGM (the SotL rights holder) produced the new season then there would be no Will Graham involved, but Bryan seems to have squashed that by saying there would be no Hannibal (and no SotL) without Will. So that’s a big relief. But whether or not that’s even going to be an issue is anyone’s guess at this point…


Warnings: smut ;);) 

(I’m sorry ok one day I’ll have an actually good title)


* * *

I couldn’t remember exactly how it happened. Dan and I had intended to head out for a couple of drinks, before returning back to our hotel for the night. We’d just finished the last show in our US tour, so tonight was a night to celebrate and we meant to enjoy it as much as we could, but we did need to leave early the next morning for a meeting which it would be wiser to attend than not. Dan had suggested that we went out for a bit, had a couple of drinks and met up with some friends, and then headed home before midnight. However, this was not exactly the path things had taken. It was about two in the morning, and Dan had disappeared off in whatever club it was that we were in to get us more drinks. I couldn’t remember exactly where we were, but I didn’t care. I loved moments like these, moments where it was actually acceptable to lose yourself in music and movement and bodies and alcohol and your own uninhibited desires, or at least to pretend to. It meant I could dance as close as I wanted to my friend, and everybody else, including him, was too drunk to care. I made my way slowly to the bar through the sea of bodies and coloured lights, but I still couldn’t see Dan. I slid into a chair and rested my chin on my hands, but just as I did so, two drinks clapped down onto the counter beside me, and two arms slipped around me from behind, heavy and messy and so warm, and Dan’s voice was suddenly murmuring in my ear, sleepy and seductive, although that was perhaps only in my head.

“Here you go, babe,” he breathed, moving to sit beside me. I couldn’t remember how much he’d had to drink, but it was definitely significantly more than me, and it doesn’t take much to wreck Dan. His shirt was open at the neck and the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, sweat glistening on his collar bones and in his hair, pushed back off his forehead in an adorable tously quiff that I felt a sudden impulsive need to run my fingers through. He smiled at me, lopsided and heart-stopping and so much more open than I ever normally got to see. We sipped our drinks in an easy, contemplative silence for a few moments, and then Dan asked if I wanted to dance, and I didn’t know in what manner I acceded, but suddenly Dan’s hand was on my arm pulling me out of my seat, and we were swallowed by the pulsating mass of bodies. There was no space, and although bodies were pressed into me on all sides, the only one I was aware of was Dan’s, his arms draped loose and heavy around my waist and his thighs and crotch flush with mine. I tried to breathe, shaky, hurried breaths, but my gaze was scattered, from his hair to his eyes, dropping hurriedly to his lips and then regretting it, a trembling mess who hoped to God that Dan was too drunk to notice the painfully obvious bulge in my jeans against his.

“I like this song,” he murmured, drawing my attention, unbidden, to his lips once again, and the mesmerising shapes that they formed. I could feel the alcohol in my veins, burning fire, clouding my mind and making rational thought impossible.

“Don’t you?” He asked, slightly disconcerted by my lack of response. We had abandoned any pretense at dancing, just swaying our bodies together in time to the music, wrapped around each other in a way that I hoped he wouldn’t remember through the haze of tomorrow’s hangover.

“Mmm,” I replied, a moan falling from my lips as his crotch rubbed against mine.

His eyes darkened. “Oh, God, Phil,” he breathed, eyelids falling shut, and he ground into me again, his closed eyes allowing me to study his face in all the detail I craved, and I was falling, filled so completely with the need to touch him, for him to touch me, that nothing was enough. I tried to lose myself in my best friend, in his hips and his crotch and the way sweat beaded on his beautiful forehead, the warm steadiness of his hands on my back, the aching sound of his voice, the smell of his hair, but I couldn’t, perpetually terrified of going too far, doing too much, and losing him forever. But he wasn’t terrified, or at least he didn’t seem to be, rolling his hips against mine and making me tug his body impossibly closer, desperate hands running over the planes of his back, his shirt sticking to his skin with sweat, a tiny part of my brain still trying to claim that this was what friends did, that it was okay, but it wasn’t what friends did and it really wasn’t okay; there was nothing okay about the slant of his neck and the dangerous glint in the hazy brown of his eyes, nothing okay about the way his body moved against mine and his hands clutched my shoulders like he was drowning and his lips formed the shape of my name almost soundlessly, like he didn’t want to and yet there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“God, Phil,” he groaned again, in a way that I felt more than heard, my body singing, and I really, truly wanted nothing more than to stay there forever, but for some reason I said, “I think we should go.”

He pouted, my knees weak, threatening to collapse, and he whined, “Phil, I like it here. We never go out.”

And now my mouth was saying things like, “We have a meeting tomorrow”, and “We need to get some sleep”, and “You’ll thank me in the morning”, but my heart was saying, stay, stay with me, wrap all of you around me until there’s none of me left and I can finally be a part of your bones and your skin and your soul, and I no longer have to exist without half of me.

But he let me drag him out of the club, our legs and arms tangling, unwilling to let go, his hand weighing on mine, burning red hot, a constant invasive reminder of his immediate presence that clouded my thoughts beyond coherence as I tried to focus my attention on apple maps to get us home. He was soft and giggly and warm, tripping over his feet and stumbling against me, but despite all of this, when we finally reached our hotel and found our corridor, I believed I was going to push him away, make sure he got into bed, and leave for my room.

I stopped in front of his door, the carpet fuzzy beneath my exhausted feet, and turned round to ask him for his key. He smiled deviously, and his arms hit the wall on either side of my head, and then my body hit the door behind me, and then his mouth hit mine. I was so shocked that I could do nothing to prevent my body from instantly responding, my hands grasping him and pulling him closer, closer, winding in his shirt and his curly hair, clutching his ass and surrendering my body to him. He fumbled behind me, not breaking away for a moment, and then the door burst open, and we half-stepped, half-fell into his hotel room. It swung sharply shut behind us, and he threw me on the bed, straddling me, bony knees and elbows and a soft mouth that leaned down to capture mine again. For the first time, I couldn’t think, every part of me consumed by him- not even by thinking of him, but by him himself, leaving no room for any thoughts. His lips left mine, trailing hot open mouthed kisses down my neck and chest, throwing my shirt to the floor. I tried to pull his off too, and he shrugged it off impatiently, the sudden expanse of Dan taking my breath away so I almost didn’t notice as he pressed wet, sloppy kisses to the V of my hipbones and tugged open the buttons on my jeans, until his mouth was suddenly on my clothed crotch, and I couldn’t help the moan that escaped my lips at the sudden wild need that coursed through me from his touch. The heat and the friction were almost too much, and I squirmed in agonising pleasure, my hands fisting in the sheets on either side of me. He pulled my boxers down with his teeth, then licked a stripe up the inside of my leg to my dick again, and took the full length of me into his mouth without hesitation. I gasped, my vision going dark, sweating, panting, writhing under his touch. “Dan,” I cried, his name a breathless moan, “Stop! Stop, or I’ll-”

He pulled off, licking his lips, a sleepy light in his half lidded eyes and precum dribbling down his chin as he crawled unceremoniously up the bed towards me again.

“Ooh, Phil,” he moaned, as I pinned him underneath me on the bed, ripping his jeans and boxers off of him and put one hand to his crotch, rubbing in hot, teasing circles that made him bite into my shoulder and hiss deliciously dirty noises against my neck. I reached the other to stretch him, but he turned his face into my neck and moaned, my finger catching on his clenching rim. “Oh God, Phil,” he groaned, desperate fingers grasping at me, eyes heavily lidded, burning with desire. “Just fuck me already.”

“But I need to-”

His jaw clenched and he turned his head to the side, another moan spilling from his lips. “Fuck, Phil, I- I did it yesterday, just- oh God,”

The thought of Dan’s fingers inside himself, Dan moaning, a hot mess, cumming all over himself and maybe this very bed, broke every resolution I’d had, and I pushed into him without warning, trying to wait for him to adjust to the size of me, but his tight, hot, clenching walls testing my remaining resolve. “Are you ready? Oh, God, are you ready?”

“Fuck me, Phil,” he begged, and I couldn’t hold on any longer. I thrusted into him with a steady rhythm, filling him completely and making him mine, the friction against my dick pleasure almost beyond what I could bear, and I vaguely registered his hand coming up to stroke himself, moaning out as I hit in exactly the right spot. I adjusted my angle to hit it every time, pushing his hand out of the way to rub him myself and gritting my teeth to hold my orgasm at bay until he came first, suddenly, with a cry almost of pain, gasping my name and then moaning, “Phil, cum for me, baby,” and my orgasm hit me like a ton of bricks. I know that I must have made some noise, but I don’t remember, lost entirely to the heat of him and the sensual, overpowering pleasure that shot through me, blinding me to anything and everything else.

so for class we had to write this poem called a ‘villainelle’ which is basically a fancy term for a tightly structured poem. 

ANYWAY.  I did mine inspired by the doctor and rose, so i thought i’d post it here and share the feels (sorry)

“She faded into the night.

There was nothing left to say.

She was quietly torn from the fight.

To disappear in battle was her birth right:

To wander, to collapse, to stray,

She faded into the night.

A fragile heart cracked, exposed to light.

The heart in her hand fell that day.

She was quietly torn from the fight.

But when did the man flee from her sight?

It was no one’s fault, just a foretold decay.

She faded into the night.

Stories change, unfold with changing height.

Though it’s a different one that they tell today,

She was quietly torn from the fight.

He and she, they did try with all their might.

But the universe called and the heart did obey.

She faded into the night.

There was nothing left to say.”

I woke up at 5 because I had to pee, and I don’t think I actually got back to sleep before my alarm went off at 6:35. I now have to go and wrangle 16 year twos who will be all rested from the weekend. There is not enough coffee in the world.

Kennith is love, Kennith is life

>I was only 9 years old

>I loved Kennith so much, I had all the colorbars and broadcast illusions

>I pray to Kennith every night before bed, thanking him for the colors I’ve been given

>“Kennith is love” I say; “Kennith is life”

>My dad hears me and calls me a heckin bingus!!!

>I know he was just jealous of my devotion for Kennith

>I called him a Frances

>He slaps me and sends me to go to sleep

>I’m crying now, and my face hurts

>I lay in bed and it’s really cold

>Suddenly, a warmth is moving towards me

>It’s Kennith

>I am so happy

>He whispers into my ear “we’re screaming again.”

>He grabs me with his powerful colorbars and makes me turn around

>I’m ready

>I scream and shout, make a whole lotta noise

>He broadcasts those colorbars to me

>It hurts so much but I do it for Kennith

>I can feel my memories being erased

>I continue to watch his colorbars

>I want to please Kennith

>He roars in a mighty roar as he broadcasts to the nation

>My dad walks in

>Kennith looks him straight in the eyes and says “I wanna fucking kill myself.”

>Kennith leaves through my window

>Kennith is love. Kennith is life.

anonymous asked:

if you have read it, harry potter and the deathly hallows

1) this is so considerately phrased

2) i found the epilogue somewhat unsatisfying?

He’s sitting ALONE in the music room, sheet of lyrics spread out in front of him, guitar pick brushing against strings as it fills the room with a melody while he hums. It’s a work in progress but Archie’ss PROUD of what he has now, despite what that Oscar guy had told him. There’s a lot of work he needs to do, but he’s ready to give 100 percent to it.


A messy little comic where a discovery is made (and the masses eat it up).

Part 2

I told you I would return lol