i had trouble with the coloring but i think it looks good now

Hi guys! Here’s a little masterpost of quotes from children’s books that you can use in your bullet journal, or anywhere else you feel like!

THE LITTLE PRINCE (ANTOINE DE SAINT-EXUPÉRY)

  • “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”
  • “The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.”
  • “You become responsible forever for what you’ve tamed.” 
  • “You - you alone will have the stars as no one else has them…In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night…You - only you - will have stars that can laugh.”
  • “Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them”
  • “A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single man contemplates it, bearing within him the image of a cathedral.” 

A LITTLE PRINCESS (FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT)

  • “If I am a princess in rags and tatters, I can be a princess inside. It would be easy to be a princess if I were dressed in cloth of gold, but it is a great deal more of a triumph to be one all the time when no one knows it.”
  • “When you will not fly into a passion people know you are stronger than they are, because you are strong enough to hold in your rage, and they are not, and they say stupid things they wish they hadn’t said afterward. “
  • “There’s nothing so strong as rage, except what makes you hold it in–that’s stronger. It’s a good thing not to answer your enemies.”
  • “If nature has made you for a giver, your hands are born open, and so is your heart; and though there may be times when your hands are empty, your heart is always full, and you can give things out of that–warm things, kind things, sweet things–help and comfort and laughter–and sometimes gay, kind laughter is the best help of all.”
  • “Somehow, something always happens just before things get to the very worst. It is as if Magic did it. If I could only just remember that always. The worse thing never quite comes.”
  • “But I suppose there might be good in things, even if we don’t see it.”
  • “You don’t forget, but you bear it better.” 

LITTLE WOMEN (LOUISA MAY ALCOTT)

  • “I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship.”
  • “It’s wicked to throw away so many good gifts because you can’t have the one you want.”
  • “Love is a great beautifier.” 
  • “Watch and pray, dear, never get tired of trying, and never think it is impossible to conquer your fault.”
  • “I want to do something splendid…something heroic or wonderful that won’t be forgotten after I’m dead. I don’t know what, but I’m on the watch for it and mean to astonish you all someday.” 
  • “Conceit spoils the finest genius.” 
  • “Be comforted, dear soul! There is always light behind the clouds.”
  • “Life and love are very precious when both are in full bloom.”
  • “The only chivalry worth having is that which is the readiest to to pay deference to the old, protect the feeble, and serve womankind, regardless of rank, age, or color.”
  • “Books are always good company if you have the right sort.”
  • “The humblest tasks get beautified if loving hands do them.”
  • “Now and then, in this workaday world, things do happen in the delightful storybook fashion, and what a comfort that is.”

MATLIDA (ROALD DAHL)

  • “So Matilda’s strong young mind continued to grow, nurtured by the voices of all those authors who had sent their books out into the world like ships on the sea. These books gave Matilda a hopeful and comforting message: You are not alone.” 
  • “Never do anything by halves if you want to get away with it. Be outrageous. Go the whole hog. Make sure everything you do is so completely crazy it’s unbelievable…” 
  • “I have found it impossible to talk to anyone about my problems. I couldn’t face the embarrassment, and anyway I lack the courage. Any courage I had was knocked out of me when I was young. But now, all of sudden I have a sort of desperate wish to tell everything to somebody.”
  • “I’ve always said to myself that if a little pocket calculator can do it why shouldn’t I?”
  • “There is little point in teaching anything backwards. The whole object of life, Headmistress, is to go forwards.”
  • “I’m afraid men are not always quite as clever as they think they are.”

THE PHANTOM TOLLBOOTH (NORTON JUSTER)

  • “So many things are possible just as long as you don’t know they’re impossible.”
  • “Have you ever heard the wonderful silence just before the dawn? Or the quiet and calm just as a storm ends? Or perhaps you know the silence when you haven’t the answer to a question you’ve been asked, or the hush of a country road at night, or the expectant pause of a room full of people when someone is just about to speak, or, most beautiful of all, the moment after the door closes and you’re alone in the whole house? Each one is different, you know, and all very beautiful if you listen carefully.”
  • “Time is a gift, given to you, given to give you the time you need, the time you need to have the time of your life. ”
  • “You must never feel badly about making mistakes … as long as you take the trouble to learn from them. For you often learn more by being wrong for the right reasons than you do by being right for the wrong reasons.”
  • “The most important reason for going from one place to another is to see what’s in between.”
  • “What you can do is often simply a matter of what you will do.”
  • “What you learn today, for no reason at all, will help you discover all the wonderful secrets of tomorrow.”
  • “Whatever we learn has a purpose and whatever we do affects everything and everyone else, if even in the tiniest way.”

THE GOLDEN COMPASS (PHILIP PULLMAN)

  • “You cannot change what you are, only what you do.”
  • “We are all subject to the fates. But we must act as if we are not, or die of despair.”
  • “Every opportunity will come again.”

wingardium-letmefuckyou  asked:

Hey, I love your gods&monsters series, could you write something about Apollo? ^Preferably something with a positive vibe, something romantic... But that's totally up to you, anything about Apollo makes me happy

Apollo has many sons.

He only ever has nine daughters.

~

He has his first when he’s young, too young to know better.

Daphne is beautiful and coy, and leads him on a merry chase. He catches her, and finally silences her laughing mouth with his own. They sleep together, and she leaves bite marks up his neck.

Her father, the river god Peneus, finds out about them. Apollo had not known it was secret. Peneus is a hard, selfish god, and he slits Daphne’s throat for her impurity. Better a dead daughter then one who does not listen.

Apollo finds out too late. He arrives to Daphne dead on the side of her father’s riverbank, stomach swollen in a way Apollo doesn’t remember it being the last time he saw her, which was – which was – it couldn’t have been that long, could it?

He cuts open her stomach, throat too tight to call for his sister’s help, heart too tight to bear anyone else looking at Daphne’s slack, bloody face.

The child is still warm.

The child is still alive.

He cannot bring himself to bury Daphne, to sentence her to an afterlife beneath the earth. Instead, he transforms her into a large laurel tree, so her beauty will remain eternal. He presses a hand against her trunk and says, “My hair will have you, my lyre will have you, my quiver will have you.” Apollo looks down at the baby, too small, tucking into the crook of his arm. “Our daughter will have you.”

He calls her Calliope. Their daughter weaves laurel leaves into her hair every day of her life.

~

When he is older, but not wiser, he gets drunk on the top of Olympus. It is not the first time, nor the last, but this time it is different.

This time Hestia, goddess of the hearth, of warmth, of family, places her delicate hand around the back of his neck and leads him to her rooms.

Months later, he lands his chariot, the sun finally set. His arms are shaking, and his legs are covered from burns when the sun grew tired and tried to consume him, but could not. Hestia stands before him, something held in her arms. “What’s wrong?” he asks roughly, throat dry and the skin of his lips cracking. Hestia rarely leaves Olympus.

“I am no mother,” she tells him, and he doesn’t understand until she places a warm, squirming bundle in his arms. He holds it to his chest automatically. “Her name is Terpsichore.”

She leaves before he has the chance to question her. He looks down, and the baby has his golden eyes and her dark hair. “Hello, little one.”

Calliope is fully grown now. Apollo leaves Terpsichore in her care, and promises to come when called.

“Yes, Father,” Calliope says, rolling her eyes as her little sister grabbing fistfuls of her curly hair. There’s an ink smudge across her face, and her home is bursting with books. He should really talk to Athena about letting Calliope use one of her libraries.

He kisses both their foreheads before leaving.

~

Apollo falls in love with a Spartan prince, graceful and strong and with a wide, pretty mouth. He falls in love with a mind that can match him, with a smile that leaves him breathless. Hyacinth captures his affections and attentions utterly, and for a few short years Apollo is enchanted, for a few short years Apollo feels a love deep in his chest that is only surpassed by the love he has for his sister.

Then Hyacinth is killed.

He shows up at his daughters’ door, and Calliope and Terpsichore take one look at him and usher him inside. He can’t bring himself to speak, but he’s covered in blood that isn’t his own, is pale and shaken and mourning.

They clean him and care for him and settle him to bed, although he cannot bring himself to sleep.

Less than a week later, there is a mortal woman there looking for him. Her eyes are red, but she stands tall and her lips are pressed into a straight line. A toddler who shares her dark coloring clutches her skirt. “I am the Princess of Sparta, and wife of Hyacinth.”

Apollo hadn’t known Hyacinth had a wife. He hadn’t asked. Surely he would have noticed – but then again, perhaps not. Love makes people stupid. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“As I am sorry for yours,” she says in return, which surprises him. “Sparta must have a prince. I am to be remarried.” She brings the little girl forward, and she can’t be more than a couple years old. “This is Urania, the child of myself and my husband. I have been ordered to kill her.”

Apollo flinches. He knows such things are done, but – she is Hyacinth’s daughter. “I will take her.”

She smiles. “I thought you might.” She kisses the girl on both cheeks, hands her to Apollo, then leaves as quickly as she’d came.

Urania watches them with big liquid eyes that she got from her mother. He stays with his daughters for a year after that, playing with Urania and watching Terpsichore dance and listening to Calliope’s beautiful poetry. Urania loves the stars. She stares up at them each night, and Apollo patiently explains the name of each one.

When she is fully grown, he begs a piece of ambrosia off Hestia and feeds it to her.

Urania is his daughter as surely as if his blood ran through her veins. He cannot bear to watch her age and die.

~

Marpessa chooses Ida over him, but it is too late. She already swells with his child, and he could use that to keep her. He could force her to stay at his side, she loves him, she said so, it would not be such a cruel thing.

But she is not wrong in her assessment. Apollo is immortal, and will not grow old with her, will not change with her, will not die with her. Ida will.

There’s fear on her face, and he thinks she deserves it, for proclaiming to love him and choosing another. But he is not interested in keeping her captive for a lifetime.

“Have the child, and give it to me,” he commands, “and I will leave you to your life.”

Ida is furious in his jealousy that Marpessa will bear a child for Apollo before she bears a child for him, so there is that comfort, at least.

Artemis delivers the child to ensure it goes smoothly. She’s beaming as she holds her niece. “What will you call her?”

“You choose,” he says, running the back of his finger over the babe’s soft cheek.

His sister considers the squalling child for a long moment before she says, “I think you should name her Thalia.”

“Thalia it is,” he says.

She’s mischievous, and reminds him of himself on his worst days. She grows, and pulls pranks on nymphs and deities. Her older sisters are constantly straining to keep her out of worse trouble.

He gets a frantic message from Calliope that Thalia has gone missing, and he eventually finds her at the edge of a scorched battlefield, the soldiers long gone but the bodies and stench remaining. He’s furious at her for going to a place so dangerous, but when he marches up to her he sees something that he hadn’t expected.

She’s hallway through a story about pranking a wood nymph that he knows is at least half lies and a quarter exaggeration. Curled up on the ground, clutching his stomach as he laughs so hard he can’t breathe, is Ares.

Apollo hasn’t seen the tormented god of war this carefree since he was a child.

Thalia finally notices him, and cuts herself off, paling. “Oh, uh. Hi Dad.”

Ares is downright giggling. “Hello Thalia,” Apollo crosses his arms and glares, “You shouldn’t go wandering away from your sisters.” She winces and nods, ducking her head to look up at him through her eyelashes, doing her best to look contrite and innocent.

It might have worked, if Apollo hadn’t taught her that look himself.

He sits down on the ground next to Ares, who doesn’t acknowledge his presence beyond shifting enough to use Apollo’s thigh as his pillow. “Well,” Apollo says, “keep going.”

Thalia lights up and launches back into the story, and when she finishes she continues into another which is mostly true and somehow even more ridiculous.

~

Because he’s an idiot with a death wish, Apollo ends up spending a month with Hecate in the underworld. He stumbles out one night when she falls asleep, because he feels if he doesn’t leave now there’s a possibility that he never will.

One of the most horrifying moments of his life is looking for the way out, and finding Hades instead. The god of death looks to him, walking around naked in his realm, to the direction he came from, and says, “That was you? Are you crazy?”

“It … it was a good time,” he says faintly.

“Obviously,” Hades shakes his head, and slices his hand down in the air in front of them, creating a doorway for Apollo out of his realm.

Apollo gives him a clumsy salute and steps through.

Roughly a year later, he’s playing his lyre when a little girl with black skin and grey hair and eyes appears in front of him. It’s terrifying enough that he accidentally snaps one of his strings.

“Lady Styx,” he says, voice higher pitched than normal. “Is there something I can help you with?”

The child snorts and reaches her hands into absolutely nothing and pulls out a baby. She holds it out to him. “Hecate says this is your problem now.”

Improbably, the babe already has a mouth full of too-sharp teeth. Her eyes shift between every color, unable to decide, and there is something a little too knowing about her face for one so young. Artemis says he too was born knowing too much.

A child of Apollo and Hecate can only be a mistake, something that will never fit quite well among others of her own kind.

He sighs and take the baby. “Very well.”

“I like the name Clio,” the child goddess says before leaving him.

Thalia tells him it’s too small and to give it back. Urania is fascinated, and takes over most of the child’s care, which is likely for the best since Calliope is neck deep into a new epic, and would be cross if she needed to pull her attention from it to rear a child.

As Clio ages, she stays just as unsettling and strange. Hephaestus shows up around the time she starts breaking into Athena’s libraries, even though stunts like that get people worse than killed. “I don’t know why she gave her to me,” Apollo says as they watch the teenager devouring a stolen tome on the history of the Persian Empire. “Hecate raised you, I don’t understand why she didn’t want to raise her actual daughter.”

“You’re a better parent than she is,” he says thoughtfully. Apollo gives him an unimpressed look, but he says, “I’m serious. Your girls are turning out to be quite lovely – all of them.”

“Of course they are,” he says, nose in the air, but grins when Hephaestus elbows him the side.

By the time she’s an adult, Clio is easily one of the most accomplished scholars to ever exist. She and Athena regularly get into academic debates that last weeks, and scare off anyone from daring to come closer.

She stays strange, and too smart, and Apollo loves her utterly.

~

Apollo is lying on the beach when a large wave overtakes him and drags him into the sea. He struggles for the surface, but can’t seem to shake the waves, and is dragged to the sea floor. He’s a god, so he won’t suffocate, but he’s terrified when the water drags him down to Poseidon’s palace and deposits him in front of his wife. “Apollo,” she says, “I can see what your daughters will become.”

He has no idea what she’s talking about. “Excuse me?”

Amphitrite grabs his jaw and pulls him closer. He doesn’t dare resist. She looks into his eyes, then smirks. “The god of prophecy doesn’t know that which he has wrought. How … ironic.”

“Is it?” he wonders. He really hopes she doesn’t kill him.

“Quite,” she smirks, and with a flick of her wrist she’s naked before him. “I wish for one of your daughters to be mine as well. Lay with me.”

“Uh,” he says eloquently, because Amphitrite has never given her husband any children, he hadn’t even known she could. If he sleeps with her, Poseidon might kill him, regardless of how many people the god of the sea sleeps with that aren’t his wife. But if he refuses her, she might kill him, and it’s not like having sex with Amphitrite is any sort of hardship. She’s as gorgeous as she is terrifying. “Okay.”

He’s deposited back on the shore the next day, feeling oddly used.

If Poseidon has any opinions on Apollo knocking up his wife, he doesn’t voice them.

Amphitrite doesn’t foist the baby upon him as soon as she’s born. Instead years pass, and one day a dark skinned, amber eyed sea god shows up at his door. There’s a teenager at his side, who has Apollo’s coloring and Amphitrite’s bone structure, and hair that shimmers golden-green in sunlight. “Glaucus,” Apollo greets warily, “and who might this be?”

“I call her Erato,” Glaucus says, “I’ve raised her since birth. It’s time for her to join her sisters.”

Erato is not as terrifying as her mother. Instead there’s a sweetness about her that she must have gotten from Glaucus. She’s shy at first, and spends many days looking out into the sea. But his daughters are persistent, and soon she’s laughing and joining them. There’s something dreamy about her, and she loves love, writes romantic ballads and beautiful poems, so much so that Aphrodite commends her talent.

Erato is also the most like him in the area of her love life, meaning she leaves behind a constant trail of heartbroken men and women.

Calliope complains about the constant wailing around their home, and Clio proves she has some of her mother’s talent with magic when she casts an unplotable spell around their home so former lovers stop following Erato home. Of course, she forgets to tell both Apollo and her sisters about this, and it’s very confusing for everyone until Clio remembers to tell them where the house is.

His daughters’ home is a place of constant music, poetry, and literature. He thinks he’s starting to suspect what Amphitrite was talking about.

~

Not all hunts are easy things.

Apollo feels the moment his sister is wounded, the arrow through her abdomen as painful for him as it is for her. He’s in his chariot, and he can’t leave it, if he leaves his chariot unattended the sun will consume it, and then consume the earth. “Calliope!” he snaps, and his eldest daughter appears by his side.

“Father?” she asks, huddling into him and away from the sun. “What’s going on?”

“Artemis is hurt, I have to help,” he says urgently, and places the reins into her hands. “You can do this.”

She pales, but steps forward, keeping a white knuckled grip on the chariot. “Go.”

He kisses his forehead, and goes to his sister. Her huntresses have set up an honor guard around her, defending and dying as cruel faced giants draws closer. “ARES!” he screams, and he doesn’t know what they’re fighting for, what this war is about, but it doesn’t matter. “WE NEED YOU!”

The god of war appears, and he’s clearly come from some other battle, covered in mud and other worse things. He throws himself into the battle, but it’s not until they gain more aid that the tides turn in their favor.

He first sees Erato on the field, water swirling around her as she slices through them all, the power of her mother making her golden eyes glow. Clio is at her back, the glittering magic Hecate passed on to her filling her hands.

Thalia has long curved knives flying from her fingers, and all who face her don’t figure out they’re dead until she’s already left them behind. Urania is letting loose arrows against the giants and though she’s not his by blood, not a goddess by birth, none would know it watching each of her arrows hit true and take down another enemy.

Terpsichore uses her honed abilities of dance differently here on the battlefield, twirling and ducking around enemies with her sword flashing as it slices through all who go against her. Celestial fire licks up the sword, and the daughter of Hestia and Apollo is laughing as she dances through the battlefield.

He wants to yell at them, to tell them to get off the battlefield, to get to safety. But it is thanks to them that the fight is being won, so he says nothing.

Ares looks around, grimaces, and catches Apollo’s eye before he disappears from the battle. They must be invoking his name. Apollo is only grateful he managed to stay as long as he did.

The giants are all dead by the time Apollo manages to make it to his sister’s side. She’s pale and covered in blood, her huntresses seated around her and trying to stop the bleeding. “What were you thinking?” Apollo demands, grabbing her hand and pushing her hair from her forehead. Terpsichore comes forward and lays her burning sword against the wound, sealing and cauterizing it at once. Both Apollo and Artemis scream

“They – took – a – child,” she pants, leaning in for his touch, for his comfort, and he has never been able to deny her anything. He pulls her up, biting back a scream at the pain that rips through them both, and props her up against his chest. “A – nymph’s child. Zeus’s child. They killed – it’s mother. That – that sort of injustice will – will not be – tolerated.” She lays her head back against his shoulder, tears leaking from the corner of her eyes, and Apollo almost wishes the battle were not over, because he wants to murder something.

“I’ll get it,” Erato says, and a moment later she returns with a toddler in her arms. She has the copper skin of Zeus, and pale blonde hair. “What do we do now? Zeus does not care for his children.”

“I think it’s time you became a big sister,” Thalia says, and Erato looks stricken. “Right Dad?”

He looks to his sister, who nods. “I can think of no better place for her. She cannot stay with me – a hunting party is not place for children.”

“Very well,” he sighs. “Does she have a name?”

The girl attempts to hide behind Erato’s hair, then says, “I am Euterpe.”

“Welcome, Euterpe,” he says.

It’s then that the sun finally sets, and Calliope stumbles into existence next to them. She’s covered in deep, bleeding burns, but it’s not as bad he feared it would be. She’s certainly faired better at her first time driving the chariot than he had. “What’s happening? Is everything all right?”

“We have a new sister,” Thalia says brightly, even as Clio rushes forward to tend to her burns.

Euterpe, thankfully, seems to inherit none of Zeus’s madness. She has a singing voice like a clear bell, and soon surpasses even Calliope’s talent with the lyre.

He knows, technically, that Euterpe is his half-sister. But it takes him no time at all to regard her as his daughter, to love her with same simple ferocity as he loves her sisters.

~

For a while, all is well, is quiet. His daughters are all fully grown, accomplished and beautiful.

Then Demeter corners him when he’s walking through quiet city and pins him against an alley wall. “If Amphitrite thinks she can one up me over this,” the goddess hisses, “she’s sorely mistaken.”

At least this time he knows what’s going on when Demeter starts pulling her dress off. “You can’t raise the child,” he says. He’s not adverse to laying with Demeter, although at this rate it looks like there will be less laying and more standing against a rough alley wall. But Demeter only knows how to love in a way that crushes all it touches. He won’t let her do that to his child.

“Fine,” she snaps, “Now get moving.”

He’s vaguely terrified the whole time, and it mostly reminds him of his month with Hecate. He’s left alone and naked in the alleyway an hour later.

Nine months later, a baby is delivered to his door by a nervous wood nymph. His daughter still has the squashed appearance of a freshly born baby. “She didn’t waste any time,” he comments, settling her into the crook of his arms. “Does she have a name?”

“Polyhymnia, my lord,” the wood nymph says, then bows before fleeing.

He brings her to the home where all his daughters live.

She grows, and she’s the spitting image of Demeter, of Persephone back when she answered to the name Kore. Her voice is lower than Euterpe’s, but just as pretty and when they sing together it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. She’s quiet, and thoughtful, her big brown eyes watching all around her with a measured stare.

Polyhymnia asks after her mother, something none of the others had done, and Apollo doesn’t know what to say. The truth is too callous, but he can’t bear to lie to her. Instead he begs an audience with Persephone, and says, “Your sister asks after the mother you share. I don’t know what to tell her.”

Persephone has no advice to offer, but she starts spending some of her time outside of the underworld with Polyhymnia. It is enough, and her questions stop, and Apollo tries not to feel guilty that he never really answered them.

~

Cassandra is unlike any woman he’s ever met, unlike any person he’s ever met, and the flames of love and passion burn inside him in a way they haven’t since his Hyacinth died.

She’s bull headed and irritating, and whenever he tries to complain about it Artemis rolls her eyes and his daughters laugh at him. He supposes he’s not doing a very good job hiding that he’s in love with her. Not even from her, because at one point she crossly asks if he’s ever planning to do anything with her, or if she should accept the offer from the butcher’s son.

They don’t leave her house for five days.

She is curious, hungry for knowledge, hungrier for it then she is of him. She wants to know impossible things, wants to be an impossible thing, and so Apollo laughs and takes her hand and says, “I will make you a bargain. I will give you the gift of prophecy, if you will grant me the gift of your hand.”

He’s never take a bride before. He hasn’t wanted to.

Cassandra is screaming and laughing, and she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him until she’s breathless. He takes it as a yes.

That’s when everything goes horribly, incredibly wrong.

It’s too much, all the horror she sees is too much, and Apollo tries to tell her to focus on the good, to see the happiness of the future. But she can’t, gets too caught up in too many wars, and she wastes away in front of his eyes even as her stomach swells.

He tries to take back the gift, tries to save her, but he can’t. It cannot be ungiven, and his headstrong, vivacious lover fades before his eyes. He only manages to alter it, to change it so no one believes the horrible things she cries to prevent the horror people feel when she looks at them and screams the way that they’ll die.

Artemis helps deliver their child, but halfway through her face goes pinched and worried, and Apollo knows that Cassandra won’t make it.

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, kissing her gaunt face, feeling the sharpness of her cheekbones under his lips, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know this would happen. I didn’t want this to happen.”

She looks at him with glassy eyes, barely reacts when Artemis places their child on her chest. There’s a growing pool of blood under her, but she can’t be saved, she will die, here, now.

Apollo wonders if she saw this coming.

She blinks, and meets his gaze with a sharpness and awareness he hasn’t seen for a long time. “She is your last daughter,” Cassandra says, “Melpomene is the last daughter you will have.”

He kisses her, his last chance to do so.

She’s dead before his lips leaves hers.

Apollo tries to flee, to run from the claws tearing apart his heart, but Artemis doesn’t let him. She yanks him back and pushes Melpomene into his arms. “You can’t leave,” she says harshly, “She needs you. Your daughter needs you. You’re not allowed to run.”

He crumples, leaning his head onto his sister’s shoulder as he sobs, and her calloused hand grasps the back of his neck. Melpomene is stuck between them, soft and warm and alive.

Time passes.

Melpomene is Thalia’s other half, her best friend, and they do everything together. Her dark hair is a mass of unruly curls just like her mother, her laughter is just like her mother’s.

She, like her sisters, is his pride and his joy.

~

Apollo has nine daughters

Calliope, who reigns over written epics.

Terpsichore, who reigns over dance.

Urania, who reigns over astronomy.

Thalia, who reigns over comedy.

Clio, who reigns over history.

Erato, who reigns over love poetry.

Euterpe, who reigns over song.

Polyhymnia, who reigns over hymns.

Melpomene, who reigns over tragedy.

They are known as the Muses.


gods and monster series, part xxi

read more of the gods and monsters series here

Guys My Age (1)

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 2554

Warnings: Lap dancing. ANGST.

Summary: You’re playing truth or dare with the Avengers when Nat asks you when the last time you got laid was  and Sam dares you to pick a song that perfectly grasps why you haven’t had sex in so long.

A/N: Thanks for the anon who recommended this song. I thank the heavens I found it because it’s so fucking relevant. I can’t seem to write smut without just a tinsy bit of a plot. But here you go.

Permanent tag list: @meganlane84

Part 2 Part 3

Originally posted by haidaspicciare

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Putting Lipstick On A Pig

by reddit user Pippinacious

Except for the whole murder thing, Courtney James seemed like a lovely young woman. She was bright, articulate, a dedicated college student and well liked waitress at a popular restaurant.

I met her when she was sitting in an interrogation room at the precinct. She was a bit on the larger side, dressed conservatively in pastel colors and minimal makeup, and when I came in, she introduced herself with a polite smile, as if we were meeting for a job interview as opposed to a police investigation. She had declined to have an attorney present, so I got right to business.

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✰ * º ❛ even more popular text posts ask meme. ❜

‘  my kink is getting some fuckin sleep.  ’
‘  omg here goes your lil crybaby ass.  ’
‘  the beatles wouldn’t even fucking exist if big time rush hadn’t paved the path for them so shut the fuck up.  ’
‘  don’t start buddy. don’t you dare.  ’
‘  gay rights? true, as a gay, i am always right.  ’
‘  not to vent, but: fuck.  ’
‘  the worst pain is to make small talk with someone you once told everything to.  ’
‘  i think i accidentally break my own heart a lot.  ’
‘  sometimes ‘brb’ stands for ‘be ready bitch’ so you have to be careful.  ’
‘  i want to kiss you in a way that makes you not want to kiss anyone else ever again.  ’
‘  shout out to the people who are still friends with me even though i’m a fucking idiot.  ’
‘  it’s safe to assume that at any given moment i want to go back to bed.  ’
‘  i’m a big fan of anything that will help me chill the fuck out.  ’
‘  i don’t go through people’s pictures on their phone cause i wasn’t raised in the jungle.  ’
‘  i think we, as a people, just need to have a glass of water.  ’
‘  i don’t have enough black clothes.  ’
‘  sweetie, i could sleep for ten years and i’d still be tired.  ’
‘  i would sleep so much better with your arms wrapped around me.  ’
‘  me??? tired??? sleepy??? yes, constantly.  ’
‘  i’m pb&j – petty, bitter, and jealous.  ’
‘  the fact that sloths aren’t extinct somehow proves that if you go at your own pace and mind your own fucking business you too can succeed.  ’
‘  i wish i could be the person i want to be, but i’m too tired.  ’
‘  i always look sleep deprived. is that hot?  ’
‘  just because there’s always room for improvement doesn’t mean you’ll never be good enough.  ’
‘  my heart is a soft and sensitive mess.  ’
‘  all i want is a big garden and no responsibilities.  ’
‘  honestly someone not liking beyonce is a deal breaker and not for any political reasons, but just like you’re probably, definitely really boring.  ’
‘  hey guys, i’m a huge fan of genuine love and affection.  ’
‘  now i’m falling asleep and she’s calling a crab and he’s having a smoke and she’s kissing the crab.  ’
‘  i’ve been ever since i heard ‘lonely’ by akon at 9 years-old.  ’
‘  my new years resolution is to stop.  ’
‘  i’m irritated cause i’m not lovable in a romantic soulmate way.  ’
‘  i hate knowing that people that ruined parts of me still live and function like nothing ever happened.  ’
‘  i know i’m cute, but you can remind me.  ’
‘  hey, just wondering, but are you fucking kidding me????  ’
‘  i can’t wait to be in love with someone who is also deepfuck in love with me and we love each other forever n’ ever.  ’
‘  me? clingy? yes. please don’t leave me.  ’
‘  girlfriend application compatibility question: do you keep your depression pile on the bed or on the floor?  ’
‘  anything heart shaped is automatically 200% better. this is a fact.  ’
‘  today’s agenda: screaming into the abyss.  ’
‘  going from ‘today is a good day’ to ‘i hate my life’ takes me approximately 2.6 seconds.  ’
‘  everyone needs to wash their face and go to bed.  ’
‘  i’m worth so much more than the ways i’ve been treated.  ’
‘  hey, can i claim you guys as dependents on my taxes?  ’
‘  i really just ignore phone calls. like leave a message. i don’t check those either but like  ’
‘  i honestly just want to pack my bags and go travel the world and see and explore everything possible.  ’
‘  remember being little and thinking dandelions were fun or a pretty color or something and every adult in an 80 mile radius wouldn’t let you say that without screaming IT’S A WEED.  ’
‘  why did we just accept catdog?  ’
‘  my ‘stay in bed all day’ game’s too strong.  ’
‘  you deserve to be loved without having to hide the parts of yourself that you think are unlovable.  ’
‘  i always forget that i literally don’t owe anyone anything!  ’
‘  i wonder what it feels like to know what the fuck is going on.  ’
‘  honestly… us girls? us women? we always out here, knowin.  ’
‘  would an alien think i’m pretty?  ’
‘  i love boys, but only as a concept.  ’
‘  why do parents get mad when you sleep in all day? like i’m staying out of trouble and i’m not spending your money like what’s the issue here????  ’
‘  i identify as an inconvenience to the world.  ’
‘  i seriously regret telling anyone, anything, ever lmao  ’
‘  dating me is like dating a five year-old. i need all of your attention and i’m cranky if i haven’t had a nap.  ’
‘  i’m literally tired of myself.  ’
‘  don’t introduce me to ur parents unless you plan on marrying me because they’re going to love me and ask about me for the rest of your life lol  ’
‘  what the hell is a straight person? only straight thing i know about is the edge of my beloved sword.  ’
‘  i highly recommend never having feelings.  ’
‘  self care is going into a cornfield at night to get abducted by aliens.  ’
‘  staying up late with another human is such a weird thing like you get this special bond and a what-is-this feeling  ’
‘  do u ever feel like ur not even friends with ur friends?  ’
‘  um no offense but whom’st’ve going to loveth me?  ’
‘  date a girl who fucks everything up.  ’
‘  not all who mcfreakin wander are mcfreakin lost.  ’
‘  i may legally be an adult but don’t be fooled. i have no idea what i’m doing.  ’
‘  a fun and interesting fact about me is that i’m a fucking idiot.  ’
‘  you can start again anytime!  ’
‘  all you can do is learn your lesson. there’s no point in wishing you had did differently. the past is the past.  ’
‘  i can’t believe an angel like me has to suffer so much.  ’
‘  you’re all so obsessed with love and being loved. what about just going to sleep?  ’
‘  i’m smart, but i do dumb shit anyway.  ’
‘  tbh i never deal with my emotions. i just let them ravage my body and then go to bed and then i wake up and do it all over again.  ’
‘  first of all: i don’t know shit, so jot that down.  ’
‘  i’ll just ¯\ _(ツ)_/¯ my way through life.  ’
‘  i’m tired of things costing money.  ’
‘  don’t you hate it when you’re dead inside and run out of apps to refresh?  ’
‘  who cares? do better, move on.  ’
‘  i don’t need a significant other. just a significant income.  ’
‘  appreciation for everyone who’s ever talked to me bc i’m annoying and dumb.  ’
‘  thnks fr th mntl llnss.  ’
‘  what  hasn’t killed me has just made me overly sensitive and defensive.  ’
‘  i don’t know shit ya’ll!!!!! i’m just out here.  ’
‘  binge-watching is great until you run out of the show and have to start watching it weekly like some sort of medieval peasant.  ’
‘  i’m in the wrong realm and i think everyone can tell.  ’
‘  this might come as a shock but I’m Not Feelin too good my dudes.  ’
‘  i’m alive, but only ironically.  ’
‘  there she goes again being over dramatic and by she, i mean me.  ’
‘  do you ever feel like have tried Too Hard to a friend and now you have become That Obnoxious Weirdo?  ’
‘  lgbt: lasagna! garfield’s beloved treat.  ’
‘  my favorite phrase in the english language is ‘i shit you not.’  ’
‘  i’m a real boring bitch! a snoozer!  ’
‘  i honestly look so good lounging in an oversized t-shirt and no pants. when will someone experience the blessing of domestic living w/ me?  ’
‘  you don’t understand how hard it is to take a selfie when you’re ugly.  ’
‘  you son of a mumford!  ’
‘  hi, i’m here to ruin everything.  ’
‘  you can tell a lot about a person by looking at their hands. for example, if it’s a skeleton hand then they’re dead.  ’
‘  the year is 2020 and i am found guilty of treason against the united states for vague blogging that i hate someone and donald trump thought it was about him.  ’
‘  everybody calm down, we’re going to be fine! :))) we’ve weathered worse than this! :) :) :) :) really all this panic just seems like a huge overreaction imho   ’
‘  no beta readers. we publish our crap writing like men.  ’
‘  i need $$$$$ not feelings.  ’
‘  ‘idk imma see’ = i ain’t coming, never was coming, never considered it, never gave it a single thought, only remembered cause you asked again.  ’
‘  oops, i don’t care lol  ’
‘  why girls always crop the halo out of their selfies? stop being so modest. we know the truth.  ’
‘  maurice, you’re not gonna fucking believe this,  ’
‘  i always get told i look like a bitch bc i’m always glaring while i walk, but i’m not glaring, i’m squinting. i have sensitive eyes. they’re watering.  ’
‘  concept: it’s 3 am. candle lit room. a record is spinning. you’re kissing me. we have no worries in the world. we’re warm and content.  ’
‘  i need to go into the forest and scream for an hour and a half.  ’
‘  pls kill all men who yell at girls from cars.  ’
‘  life really isn’t what i expected it to be. less quicksand. almost no quicksand to be honest. lots of metaphorical quicksand tho.  ’
‘  i have a question for u: like are u done… like is it over?  ’
‘  we all have that one person who ruins your day by being alive.  ’
‘  we all have that one person who ruins your day by being alive. for me, it’s myself.  ’
‘  whenever i see police i always try not to act suspicious and fail internally even though i never did anything wrong.  ’
‘  new years resolution: less bitter, more glitter.  ’

anonymous asked:

Isn't there a really dodgy bit in Why Does He Do That? I read somewhere that it says a man who says he's being abused is the abuser in a relationship, which... no, male victims of domestic abuse exist too...

Yes.  I was actually going to post about this.

It’s not just a “dodgy bit”.  There are multiple points at which he says things that I didn’t care for.

The “male abuse victims are probably lying” thing is is the biggest flaw in the book, but the book is still absolutely vital, and people should still read and recommend it.  Full stop.  Because a thing is flawed does not mean it has no value and should not be circulated to those people that it could help.  If the book were less shockingly accurate and unflinching in its portrayal of abusive men, if it were less good in the ways that it is good, perhaps I would feel more hesitation.

I’ve read basically the whole thing so far (I’m about 20-30 pages from the end in the PDF), and here’s the deal.

He doesn’t say unilaterally that men lie about being abused.  He says that abusive men lie about being abused by women.  It’s a fine distinction, and not really much better, but I want to be clear that that is what he is saying.  Not that men lie about all abuse, but that they lie about being abused by women.  Abusive men, especially, will tell this lie to get the upper hand.

Based on what he has seen after dealing with a couple thousand men who abuse women, I do not doubt that this is true.

But he seems to think the number of abused men is smaller than the number of abusive men who are lying about being abused.  Even if that is true, abused men are not acceptable collateral damage.  It’s not okay to act like the issue isn’t important just because liars exist.

He uses SOME qualifying language. I’m not going to go digging for it, but it’s along the line of “Male victims of domestic violence are really rare compared to the number of female victims.”  After that he kind of treats it like they either don’t exist, or the fact that they do is irrelevant in the face of the much more widespread problem of men who abuse women.  I won’t lie, that’s not good.

To be frank, he does not seem all that aware of social justice issues the way that all us gigantic queers on Tumblr are.  His awareness of LGBT issues is peripheral.  When he says “men” and “women”, he definitely means “cis men” and “cis women”.  And the book definitely reads like a book written by a cis dude to me.  But honestly, this is a book that only a cis dude could have written, because only a cis dude could have worked with other (cis) men the way he has, and it is precisely that experience that makes it so valuable.

The fact that he’s biased doesn’t mean he is talking out his ass the rest of the time.  He’s not.  At the time of publication (2002) he had worked with over two thousand abusive men whose targets were women.  He pioneered recovery programs for these men.  He was the first to really get down and work with them on a daily basis, both in group and personal therapy settings.  And that experience shows.

No.  He really really doesn’t understand abused men.

But he understands abusive men.  Specifically, he understands men who abuse women.

On the one hand, it’s given him an unprecedented level of insight into abusers’ mindsets, and that is so valuable.  

On the other, the graphic and awful examples he has seen of men who are lying to get themselves out of trouble or justify their behavior have definitely colored his views of male victims.  These men – men, I emphasize, referred to him by the legal system, meaning they were entirely confirmed abusers – WERE almost always lying about it.  I think he mentions two exceptions?  And yeah, that sounds like shit abusers fucking do.  I believe him.

Within his setting, within his sample, I believe he is 100% correct in his assessment – abusers are likely to be lying about having suffered partner violence.

That setting absolutely is not the rest of the world, and I think he loses sight of that, if he ever had sight of it to begin with.  That’s a terrible flaw.

Another flaw is that it gives very little face-time to same-sex relationship abuse.  It goes into it a little, and does it a little ham-handedly but not too badly, but mostly it gets ignored.

Rather than raise these issues at all and then doing it badly, I wish he had said “The issue of abuse in LGBT relationships, as well as the issue of women abusing men, is sadly beyond the scope of my experience, and therefore this book is not about those issues.”

There is nothing wrong with focusing on one aspect of the issue of intimate partner violence.  That he did so is not a bad thing.  The bad thing that he did is to treat the rest of it like a non-issue, when it isn’t, and that he said some things that encourage the reader to be generally suspicious of men who say that women have abused them.  Those are bad things.

Would I recommend it to a man who is being/was abused by a woman?  No no no.  Absolutely not.  Those dynamics are completely different, and the abuse is likely to look very different, and I feel like very little of it will be accessible to someone in that situation.  I think it would do more harm than good.

Would I recommend it to someone in a non-cishet relationship?  Maybe, but probably not, unless I had a little insight into the relationship and felt like it would be a good match.

Would I still recommend it to women, or to people who want a general understanding of the dynamics between abusive cis men and abused women?  YES.  YES A THOUSAND TIMES.

The book is not “good” in a morally/ideologically pure, okay?  It is flawed.  But for what it is, which is a book about men who abuse women, it is very good.   He is on the side of abused women, all the fucking way.  And that is still an astonishingly rare thing to find. 

It validates the experiences of women abused by men by showing different types of abusive behavior and different types of abuser.  He says at multiple points “If you’re wondering whether it’s abuse, then it probably is.”  And that is still such a radical, necessary, healthy and badly-needed thing to say.

I’m not going to defend the way he treats the issue of abused men, or abuse in LGBT relationships,  He barely deals with these issues at all, and when he does, it’s halfhearted at best and actively regressive at worst.  In that regard, it’s shitty.  If that is what you are needing, this book won’t give it to you.

I am going to defend it as an excellent starting place for women abused by men, or in toxic almost-abusive relationships with them.

I would prefer it not be flawed, and if it has to be flawed, I would prefer it come with a disclaimer, but I would rather it circulate flawed and without a disclaimer of any kind that fail to reach someone who really, really needs it.

We could be waiting a long time for a better, more inclusive book to come out.  There’s not time to wait.  This book is needed now.  TODAY.

That said, I am always glad to reblog helpful resources for abused men, or for people in non-cishet relationships, if you know of any.  I would love to know about comparable GOOD books for LGBT people, if you know any, or would love to know about GOOD books written for male victims of domestic violence.

(long post, sorry)

In spite of everything I love Harley Quinn but, damn, writers treat her so badly. I swear, the temptation to make her actually stupid must be terrible because it’s so often implied, or explicitly stated, that she slept her way through school. First of all, it does not work like that.  Second, she’s not a therapist or a psychologist, she’s a psychiatrist, she’s a fricking MD and a damn young one too. Managing pre-med and collegiate gymnastics that she relied on to keep her scholarship? Harley is fucked up, but she’s not the dumb blonde she plays. (also stop making her stacked, she’s a gymnast. she is 4’11” of pure muscle and is not top heavy)

If you want a good Harley backstory it’s simple. She’s ADHD but medicated and slightly robotic because of it. I want to take special care not to demonize meds but, rather, people’s disapproval of neurodivergence and a lack of focus on what is best for a patient rather than what is most convenient for others. So, maybe, around ten years old Harley is a hyperactive space cadet who’s brilliant at tests but sloppy at coursework, who would be a gymnastics prodigy if she could actually focus on technique and put in practice time instead of fooling around. Then the meds come and it’s actually really cool because she can do the things she needs to do instead of just wanting to do them, doing something else entirely, and getting in trouble. People are proud of her, she’s proud of herself. But now there are expectations. Family and teachers and coaches overschedule her, find worth only in her success and don’t care about her mental health at all as long as she’s performing and castigate her when she does fail. Fuck if you don’t internalize that. But she doesn’t look unhealthy and she’s doing amazing. She actually has to choose between the Olympic trials and continuing her grad studies. She probably has some issues with self-harm but it either doesn’t look like self-harm or is well covered up. 

When Arkham accepts her, fresh from her residency, it’s not a mistake. The woman is amazing. All they can see is a mountain of achievements rather than the seething ball of nerves, self-loathing, and imposter syndrome boiling just under the surface. That’s when Joker comes in. He’s got the Hannibal Lecter shtick down. Where everyone else sees an intelligent driven young woman he sees a frightened overwhelmed girl who is working her hardest to convince the world she’s anyone other than herself. Sending her into a nervous breakdown would be too easy so he doesn’t even bother. Instead he’s open with her, almost friendly. The other doctors are amazed, Harley is amazed, she’s not done anything particularly revolutionary but, for the first time in forever, it looks like the clown prince of crime is showing progress. He unravels her and it’s a challenge, she flinches back and gets very serious when he comes too close to the real Harley under the professional. Still, soon she’s questioning everything. She doesn’t even really like her co-workers. She hasn’t had a real friend in years. She’s forgotten how to have fun. Did she ever want this to be her life or did she just do it for other people? It starts so slowly that it looks, at first, like she’s getting better at self-care. Maybe something totally silly one weekend, a trampoline park where she can enjoy the way her toned body moves without stressing out over landings, a face painting booth at a street fair, some garishly colored downright tacky decoration that clashes with her sensible apartment. Suddenly she realizes how much she hates knowing the difference between cream and ecru. The beigeness of her life is repulsive. She hates the person she’s pretending to be even more that she hates herself which is really saying something.

After her weekend of freedom she would have called in sick if it wasn’t so suddenly important to see him. The relief she feels at talking to one of Gotham’s most infamous supercriminals is disturbing but it is relief and she’s been swallowing a slow-motion panic attack for hours. She admits, though she shouldn’t, that she took his advice about doing something fun and he teases her, what would straight-laced Doctor Quinzel do for fun? Did she realphabetize her sock drawer or buy a new clipboard? It’s not important to impress him, it’s really not. He’s dangerous, cruel, and he looks so proud when she admits that she bought a lamp shaped like a lawn flamingo. The only mistake, he says, is that she should have stolen it. She hopes the wicked thrill it gives her doesn’t show on her face. It does. She almost even laughs. He likes it when he can make her laugh and she likes it when he likes things.

It’s wrong and unprofessional, the relationship she develops, and she knows it but her whole life she’s been so high strung. Nothing she’s done has been for her, she’s not sure she knows how to really do selfish things anymore, but he knows the selfish things she needs to do. It feels good when she follows his advice even when it’s small things like the rainbow striped socks she wears concealed under her very bland slacks and sensible shoes. She’s so happy, almost giddy, and he loves her happiness, he loves her, he loves the real her that she’s had to beat down and hide for so long, the her that even she isn’t able to love. She is able to love him, though, and since he loves her she’s able to love herself for him, to protect and nurture something so important to him.

When the choice comes between her old self, the tedious endless labor of making the world proud, and Him, the spectacular man that brought color into her life, it’s not even a question. She kills Doctor Harleen Quinzel, she throws away the version of her that let herself burn just for medals and hollow accolades. She embraces Harley Quinn and it’s so much a part of her nature she can’t even see that she’s still living her life for someone else’s approval, except this time that person is a murderous clown. She hasn’t let her hair down, she’s just put it in pigtails instead of a bun.

OK Piper McLean fans, listen up

I’m Cherokee. I’m a Cherokee girl. I’m a major Piper fan because she’s a Cherokee woman like myself. There’s been some Discourse© about her hair. Sit down, buckle up, because you guys are about to some knowledge dropped on you. 

So the issue is about her hair; people keep drawing my girl with undercuts. I don’t think she would have one, and if she did there’s only one good reason. 

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for science

pairing: reader x jimin

rating: m

◦ word count: 7.7k

m a s t e r l i s t


Originally posted by parkjmzl

Absurd. Absolutely fucking absurd. It was 2am during finals week and the cafe was out of coffee? You had some colorful words for the person responsible. Dragging yourself up the stairs with sleep-ridden eyelids, you muttered curses under your quickened breath. You clenched and unclenched your fist. It was safe to say that your fifth espresso shot had officially just worn off. Despite the troubling rate of heartbeat and the fact that your hand was shaking all on its own, the subtle pounding of a migraine lingered between your temples in demand for something to keep it awake.

There was still a menacing stack of papers left to grade. If something could pull you away from it all, you would have been thankful. It was almost nauseating, actually, how much work you had yet to complete. Who the hell said grad school was a good idea? The urge to scream rippled in the back of your throat, tempting you to let everything out and just empty yourself into time and space.

It did you no better to return to the study room –the very cramped one that you had booked privately for the entire day– to find a regretfully familiar face emptying his bag across from your belongings. “What do you think you’re doing?” You felt lightweight as the angry jitters travelled through your body. The heavy door slammed shut behind you. It sent a deafening sound cracking through the library.

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Ouija - (H/M)

A/N; SOOOOOOO
This turned out A LOT longer than @dont-run-up and I first intended, but hopefully, everyone enjoys! Leave some comments letting us know what you thought of Incubus!Yoongi~~

Genre; Horror with that good S M UT 

Length; long af- 9,800+ words

Kink(s); A sprinkle of Master/Pet, impact play, oral (giving and receiving), creampie, light bondage, etc.

Originally posted by taes-nose-mole

12:00 a.m.
The time blared on your friend, Hee Young’s, phone screen. “Come on Y/n,” She jeered, keeping that eager grin and puppy-dog look in her eyes as she gently grasped your biceps, swaying you from side to side. “I wanna play! It’s just a game-” She added, pointing towards the newly purchased Ouija board that sat on your coffee table. Just the sight of it rushed a wave of uneasiness over you.

Shaking your head, your brows furrowed slightly, “I don’t know-” You replied, as anxiety laced your words. “My grandma always told me to steer clear of them, they could allow things into your home and life.”

“Oh my gosh, you don’t really believe all that nonsense, do you?” She asked, giggling through her words while she began to open the board’s box. Unlike you, she was a full-blown skeptic; she wasn’t a believer in anything paranormal, so Ouija was just a game to her and nothing more than that.

God did you wish you could dismiss it the way she could.
Though you had never personally experienced anything ghost-wise, you knew plenty of people that had. “Ahh I do, but..” You began, sighing as you decided to give in despite your better judgment, “But I guess we can play, just for a little, at least.”

Heeyoung excitedly clapped while smiling like a dork as she lifted the onyx and pearl colored board and planchette out. “Don’t worry,” She sweetly said, recognizing the nervous expression that painted your face as she placed it onto the glass. “It’s just a game.”

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A Pile Of Sticky Notes (Richie Tozier x Reader)

Richie Tozier x Fem!Reader

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: You and Richie had a thing going, and by ‘thing’ you mean rivalry. On the outside you hate him with all your might, but secretly you’ve been slipping love notes into his locker and praying no one ever sees you. Knowing your rotten luck, the person who catches you in the act is the one person you never wanted to be caught by. 

Warnings: Cussing, because it’s Richie… Obviously. Also kissing an’ shit, and this was requested by @ireland37, who wrote their own series based off the idea. Check it out!

Word Count: 1,304


“Is it hard to be this stupid, or does it come naturally?”

Richie snorted and, grinning widely, raised his middle finger at you. You didn’t notice the red tint to his face every time the two of you argued and he never knew that your chest wanted to explode whenever he insulted you, which was odd, but it happened anyway. Whether or not he had a comeback, you enjoyed the banter.

“If you want to talk about things that come naturally then you should see me in bed.” He fires back, crumpling paper into a ball and throwing it at you. You ducked and frowned, craning your neck to look at him. You were about to say something but the teacher walked in and shushed the class, and you were forced to turn back to the front.

Halfway through the boring class, you heard a quiet ‘thwip’ sound and felt something hit the back of your head. Your hand darted up to feel your hair, pulling a tiny ball of crumpled paper out of the locks. It was, to your absolute disgust, slimy.

“Bleh! That’s disgusting!”

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MC does successful suicide prank (Trigger Warning)

Geez, this is dark. You okay, Nonny? Sorry it took so long to do this request. I wasn’t feeling it and I didn’t want to half ass this. It was also very hard to think of this many ways to suicide… prank. So I made some accidental pranks. Maybe I overthought it. Anyways TRIGGA WARNING YALL.

I didn’t do the minor trio cause these were hard. But I did do Vanderwood cause I was able to think of something short and fun.

Yoosung

  • “MC, please, I need to study.”
  • Yoosung had ignored you so much the whole weekend.
  • The ONLY time you two had free time this whole month.
  • But what could you do, he was studying to get his Ph.D.
  • After dealing with this all day, you took some pills to soothe your head.
  • You left the bottle on the coffee table and took a nap on the couch.
  • You woke up to Yoosung shaking you, “MC, please wake up!”
  • You sat up and your gaze met Yoosung’s tears.
  • “I-I’m taking you to the ER, right now.”
  • He pulled you up from the couch.
  • “What? Why?”
  • His eyes darted over to the bottle of pills on the floor.
  • “Oh, I spilled the bottle!”
  • “Wait. You didn’t?”
  • “Didn’t what?”
  • In that moment, Yoosung’s knees buckled and he knelt on the floor.
  • “Yoosung, what’s wrong??”
  • He couldn’t even talk between his hiccups and cries.
  • After putting two and two together, you realized Yoosung thought you had overdosed.
  • “You thought I had…?”
  • You didn’t even need to finish that question cause all he could do was nod and sob.
  • You pulled him in for a kiss and serenaded him with loving words.
  • “I could never. I’m so happy with you. I love you.”
  • Yoosung didn’t leave your side that whole night.
  • He rather spend time with you right now than anything else.

Zen

  • “I’m not so sure, Mr. Director.”
  • “MC, it’s a little white lie! It’ll be the big money shot.”
  • “But isn’t this a bit much?”
  • “Look, it’s been weeks and he’s still having trouble emoting everything we need him too. We’re wasting so much time and resources on this.”
  • “I know, but I don’t want to scare him. We don’t even know how he’s going to react!”
  • Before you could get a response, the director spoke into his walkie talkie, “Zen is here, action.”
  • You looked over to Zen, who spotted you and waved at you.
  • You looked back up to the director who winked at you and said, “Break a leg!” And with that, he pushed you off the scaffolding.
  • “BABE?!”
  • You fell right up until 3 feet above the ground. The only support you had, a rope around your neck.
  • “MC! NO NO NO!”
  • He ran over to you and tried to push you back up. “HELP! SOMEONE, CUT THE WIRE!”
  • Stagehands rushed over and cut the wire around your neck.
  • Zen pulled you towards him and sat you down.
  • “WHAT WAS THAT?!”
  • “Zen,  I-.”
  • “No! Shut up! Do you know what you were trying to do! Do you know just how I would have felt if you succeeded?! A-are you not happy with me? I-I-I… What would I do without you?”
  • Zen collapsed to his knees in front of you. “What would even make you want to do this? Aren’t you happy with me? Did I do something wrong? I love you so much, my whole world almost ended with you.”
  • He reached his hand up to wipe the tears now on your cheek.
  • He pulled you into a hug, and you felt his chest heaving.
  • “CUT!” The director came out of his hiding spot.
  • “What?” Zen pulled back looking at the cameras around him.
  • “We did it! We finally have the shot!”
  • “What???” He turned back to you.
  • You unbuttoned your top to show a harness around your body, which is where the wire was really strung to.
  • “Zen, I- You were- I wasn’t on board with-”
  • “I told MC how you were having trouble portraying the right emotions and I thought it would be nice to do this stunt to help you along.”
  • Zen was angry, upset, crying, scared, but mostly relieved.
  • He took your hand and pulled you into his dressing room ignoring everyone else.
  • You spent the whole time apologizing, and Zen just held you lecturing in your ear and every now and then telling you how much he loved you.

Jaehee

  • You didn’t mean to prank Jaehee, it just came naturally.
  • You were in the tub trying out new bathbombs.
  • This one in particular had a nice red color with a sweet rose smell.
  • As the ball dissolved it left the water a deep red color.
  • “Looks like I am washing off someone’s blood. Kinda like my blood.”
  • As you dozed off, staring at the water you heard Jaehee come in.
  • Now’s good as time as any to play dead, right?
  • Nope.
  • Jaehee knocked on the bathroom door but since you gave no response, she opened it to make sure you were alright.
  • In a matter of seconds she was shaking your shoulders and yelling, “MC? Wake up! Can you hear me? MC!!!”
  • “Oh my god,” She turned around and grabbed her phone
  • But then she turned back to you who was now awake and you smiling.
  • “Gotchu!”
  • Your smile faded as you saw that her face was pale, eyes widened.
  • “Hey, Jaehee, it was a joke.”
  • No response from her.
  • All you feel is guilt now and all you think is, “Wow, dumb joke, me.”
  • “It’s okay, J–”
  • She cut you off and just screams at you, her grip tightening on your arms.
  • “It’s not okay!!! Do you know how scared I was?! Why would you even joke about this?!”
  • “Jaehee, your hands are hurting me.”
  • She realized how much of his composure she lost and let go.
  • “Please, don’t ever joke about this again. Never again.”
  • Tears forming in her eyes.
  • “Never. I promise.”
  • All you could do to reassure her was pull her into a hug.
  • You spent the rest of the night holding her, and telling her how happy you are to be with her.

Jumin

  • You were having a crappy day.
  • The cake topper would be spilling red wine over all over your blouse.
  • You didn’t even have the energy to clean up.
  • So you sat on the couch for a minute before proceeding with your day.
  • Only, you fell asleep.
  • It wasn’t long before you jolt awake from the sound of glass shattering.
  • Your eyes follow the sound to Jumin who was standing by the door.
  • He dropped his bags, but that wasn’t the issue.
  • His eyes were fixed on you, fear instilled in them.
  • “J-jumin?”
  • He finally let his breath go as he stumbled to you.
  • “MC, what would I have done if I had lost you?”
  • “Wh-what?”
  • He pulled you into the tightest hug.
  • “If this is a joke, I don’t understand it.”
  • You rubbed his back, clearly not understanding what he meant.
  • After a moment, he pulled back to ask, “Why are you even wearing that?”
  • You looked down and realized the wine formed what resembled a blood stain on your chest.
  • “Oh, oh!!!  It-I-I’m sorry! I meant to change and fell asleep!”
  • Jumin sighed before he started to unbutton your blouse.
  • “J-jumin?!?”
  • “I’m getting you cleaned up.”
  • You blushed after realized what you thought was wrong.
  • “But of course, that’s after I make you remember how much I would miss you if you did leave one day.”

Saeyoung

  • Saeyoung and you had driven to the top of a mountain.
  • You were both waiting for the sunset.
  • You peered the edge of a cliff to see how steep of a drop it was.
  • Finally you turned to Saeyoung and calmly asked, “Do you still love me?”
  • He looked at you a little confused but answered, “Yes.”
  • “How much?”
  • “Hum… This much!” He held his hands only a foot apart from each other.
  • “ONLY THAT MUCH?!”
  • He laughed right before telling you, “This much more than possible.”
  • Instead of hitting him like you would usually do, you smiled at him and whispered, “I love you too. And I’m so sorry…”
  • “Sorry for what?”
  • “This.” With that, you stepped over the edge.
  • “NO! MC!” He ran over to you faster than he ever moved.
  • He wasn’t even thinking and threw himself off the ledge after you
  • He was shocked that he landed two yards below the ledge… right in front of you
  • “SORRY FOR REVENGE!”
  • You finally got payback for the mean prank he pulled a while back.
  • You stuck out your tongue practically joyed that he believed it.
  • But you felt a drop of water on your face. Rain?
  • No… Saeyoung was crying.
  • You Fucked Up.
  • “W-wait. It was a joke! S-Saeyoung!?”
  • He pulled you into the tightest hug ever.
  • “Saeyoung?”
  • His entire body was trembling against you.
  • Just his silence alone was enough to make you regret everything.
  • “Saeyoung? I’m sorry. I wasn’t.. I didn’t think it through..”
  • “I love you so much so don’t ever take that away. Please, MC. Please…”
  • You hugged him back and only told him, “I’ll never take that from you.”
  • Now you two just had the new issue of getting back on top of the cliff.

Vanderwood

  • Vanderwood walks into the room to find you face down in a pool of blood.
  • “MC, get up. I don’t have time for your jokes. Luciel is already a handful.”
  • He walks away.
  • You sit up.
  • Drat, Maybe next time.
  • “And clean up the mess.”
His || Jungkook || 0.17

Member: Jungkook x Reader

Type: Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Teaser | 0.1 | 0.2 | 0.3 | 0.4 | 0.5 | 0.6 | 0.7 | 0.8 | 0.9 | 0.10 | 0.11 | 0.12 | 0.13| 0.14 | 0.15 | 0.16 | 0.17 |

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Pink Love Potions - George Weasley

Prompt: Fred and George ask the reader to smell a love potion and when she can only associate the scent with George she refuses to tell them. 

Words: 3,259

Warning: None, fluff. 


“Y/n, our dearest darling friend, we’re in need of your assistance.” Peeking out from over your essay you found a set of two feet standing in front of you. There was no need to look up, your accusation was confirmed by the mismatched socks. The Weasley twins hardly sorted out their clothes and snagged the closest, cleanest smelling, item they could find and threw them on. Also over half their socks had holes in them causing their big toes to break free from the rest of their friends.

There was also the towering shadow that casted over you that gave away their identity as well. The boys beat you in height by a mile- or rather so at least a foot. If you walked by their side travailing to and from classes, you were jogging half the time and out of breath when reaching your destination. Not to say this was out of the ordinary or loathed, you enjoyed working overtime to keep up with the boys. Besides by the end of the day you had reached two days’ worth of cardio and were all set.

“Oh no. What have you two gotten yourself into now?” You rose an eyebrow at the pair. On look at them and there was no question about it, they were up to no good. George had his hands behind his back and look slightly bothered. You set your homework down on the table in front of you and went to ask him if he was alright but Fred started in instead.

Keep reading

The Golden Girl-Lip Gallagher Imagine

Requested: Yes

Warnings: Underage drinking, drug use, sensuality, sexual implications, and language

A/N: Y/O/B/F/N= your other best friend’s name

Originally posted by lipgallaghersaysfuckyou

   “Why didn’t I skip class today?” Mandy groaned, throwing her head back.

    “Because if you got caught skipping again, you would get suspended…again,” Lip muttered behind her.

    They were sitting in their eighth period British Lit class while Mr. O’Neil talked about some dead poet. Lip was only paying half attention since he already knew most of the information and he got good grades without even trying. He had a few more important things on his mind like Fiona and his other siblings and the trouble he and Ian could get into over the weekend. However, the other kids in the class could hardly afford zoning out in the way he did. 

    “…and that is how Edgar Allen Poe invented the modern detective story,” Mr. O’Neil concluded with a small smile under his wiry gray mustache. “Now, before you leave, I have to return your midterm essays.”

     “What’s the point? I know I failed,” Mandy muttered.

     “You never know. You could’ve gotten a D this time.”

      Lip smirked as Mandy turned around to slap his arm. It stung a little, but Lip laughed it off. 

       “We can’t all be weird geniuses like you.”

       “Most of you did not seem to grasp the concept I was looking for, which is confusing since all I requested was for you to dissect and analyze a piece of literature we previously discussed in class,” Mr. O’Neil said as he began handing back papers.

        A lot of the kids rolled their eyes, laughed, or groaned when they received their papers. It took a minute for Mr. O’Neil to get to Mandy and Lip.

       “I expect more from you, Miss Milkovich,” Mr. O’Neil said.

        “Have you met my brothers?” Mandy retorted.

        Mr. O’Neil cast a distaste look in her direction, but recovered a little as he handed Lip his paper. “Very good work, Mr. Gallagher.”

        “Thank you, Mr. O’Neil,” Lip said.

         Scrawled on top of his paper was a 90 along with the comment “Good work, Mr. Gallagher. Your input was interesting but the dissections were a bit off.”

          “Not bad, Gallagher,” Mandy muttered.

          “Thanks.”

          Lip couldn’t help but feel a little proud of himself. He was always the smartest person in the room, even though the room primarily consisted of idiots. It was nice to be reminded of it. 

          “Miss Y/L/N, I was quite impressed with your work. I have never read such original or thoughtful input on Emily Dickinson.”

          The girl had a small, wan smile on her lips as she accepted her paper. “Thanks, Mr. O’Neil.”

           “In fact, you scored the highest on this assignment.”

           Y/N smiled shyly yet again and muttered a polite “thanks” to the teacher as she placed her essay neatly in her English folder.

           “Looks like Little Miss Perfect beat you out,” Mandy teased in a whisper.

           “I’ll let her have it, this is probably the only pleasure she gets out of life besides reading and studying all the time,” Lip muttered.

             Y/N Y/L/N had to be the most innocent girl Lip had ever encountered and she was also his biggest competition when it came to academic standing. She was smart as a whip, but she didn’t flaunt it like Lip did sometimes. In fact, she mostly kept to herself, save for the two girls Lip saw her hanging around. Y/N was every parent’s wet dream: quiet, polite, kind, and a bit of an over achiever. She was the class president, captain of the debate team, and captain of the girl’s tennis team. In fact, the only trouble she probably got in was for jaywalking. Lip didn’t really have anything against her but he also didn’t really like competition.

           Finally, Mr. O’Neill released them, and Mandy and Lip were the first two out of the classroom.

          “Just admit it, Lip, you don’t like that Goody Two Shoes beat you out for the highest grade,” Mandy said.

          “It’s just a stupid essay, Mandy, besides, getting good grades is probably the only way Y/N could experience an orgasm,” Lip said.

          Mandy burst out laughing and Lip smirked deeply. “That is true, I don’t think Y/N would know what to do with a dick if she ever saw one.”
          As Mandy and Lip laughed, they were interrupted by someone running into Lip. 

          “Hey, watch where the f–ck you’re going,” he snapped.

          “Oh, sorry!” Y/N squeaked.

          Lip instantly regretted his words when he saw how Y/N clutched her book to her chest. “It’s fine, forget about it.”
          “Hey, Y/N,” Mandy said.

          “Hey, Mandy.” Y/N readjusted the strap of her messenger bag. “Have any fun plans for this weekend?”

          “I might go to a party or two. You?”

          “I am keeping my options open.” 

          “Y/N!” Y/B/F/N yelled from across the hallway.

          Y/N sighed a little. “I have to go, sorry about running into you like that, Lip.”

         “Don’t worry about it.”

          Y/N hurried off to meet her friend on the other end of the hallway and they immediately began giggling together. Y/B/F/N said something to Y/N that made her eyes widen and take a quick glance at Lip. When she saw that he was looking at her, she quickly turned back around to her friend, who began snickering.

           “Hello, earth to Lip?” Ian asked.

          “What?” He turned to face Ian and Mandy.

          “I was asking if we were still going to Rose Martin’s party tonight,” Ian said. 

          “Why wouldn’t we be?”

          “Because it’s in Old Town and we’re south side trash.”

          “Hey, we’re only trash if we think we’re trash, so stop thinking we’re trash,” Lip said.

          “Fine. Now tell me, what had you so distracted that you couldn’t answer me?” Ian asked.

         “Nothing.”

         “Bullsh-t!”

         Mandy smirked. “It was because of her wasn’t it?”

         “Who?” Ian asked.

         “Shut up, Mandy,” Lip said.

         “Y/N, Lip’s got a thing for her,” Mandy said.

         “Y/N Y/L/N? The same girl who cried when Eddie Carver kicked a baby rabbit over the school fence?” Ian asked.

         “That was third grade,” Lip said. “And I don’t like her like that.”
         “Why not? Because she’s too good for you?” Ian teased.

         “No, because she’s too f-cking innocent. It would be like being with a little kid all the time,” Lip muttered. 

          “I would believe you if you hadn’t been eye-f-cking her a second ago.”

        Lip didn’t respond, and he didn’t really know why he had gotten so defensive when Ian and Mandy began suggesting that he liked Y/N. He barely spoke to her except in passing and there was no way she would go for a Gallagher of all people. Somehow, he still found himself attracted to her innocent, shy nature. He would ruin her and she didn’t deserve that.



        Late that night, the party was in full swing at Rose Martin’s penthouse in Old Town, Chicago. Her father had won the lottery two months ago, so the penthouse was filled with gaudy art, strange mini statues that were considered art, and stainless, techy everything. Waka Flocka’s “It’s A Party” was blasting through the speakers as teenagers grinded to the beat throughout the penthouse. In the kitchen, a group of people were playing drinking games; the bathroom was dedicated to cocaine; the bedrooms were used for coitus; and the balcony was for the cigarette and pot smokers. Lip, Ian, and Mandy were in the living room in the middle of the chaos, dancing as they drank. Lip was near the threshold of being drunk, but was still in the place where the colorful lights didn’t transfix him and he still had control of himself. 

          “This is the best night ever!” Mandy shouted over the music.

           Ian and Lip shouted in response before they toasted her words and downed the vodka in their cups. It went down smooth since Rose could afford not to scrimp on the alcohol anymore.

         “I love Rose Martin!” Ian exclaimed.

         “You can’t, you don’t swing that way!” Lip shouted back.

         “F-ck it!”

        Lip and Mandy burst out laughing. In the midst of the madness, Mandy ended up grinding with some guy and Ian disappeared. Lip ended up wandering out of the living room and went outside to light up a cigarette. The sky was completely ink black with a few stars scattered in the mix. A few people were smoking pot or cigarettes around the balcony. In the corner was a group of girls wearing short dresses and skirts, giggling. One of them looked extremely familiar to Lip but he couldn’t put his finger on it. She flipped her y/hc ponytail and burst out laughing at something before turning around. Lip nearly dropped his cigarette.

        “Y/N?” he whispered.

        She was wearing an oversized blue button down shirt that managed to accentuate her curves with a pair of black over the knee boots. Her hair was pulled in a ponytail with a few strands falling around her face, which was made up in a tasteful fashion with gold eyeshadow bringing out her y/e/c eyes and blush to compliment her skin tone. She was holding a plastic cup filled with white wine and her friends had sneaky smiles on their faces when they saw Lip.

        “Lip!” Y/N stumbled over to him, managing not to spill a drop of her wine. “It’s so good to see you.”

       “What are you doing here?” Lip asked.

       “Drinking.” Y/N took a long swig of her drink to prove her point. 

       “I can see that, it’s just, this isn’t really your scene.”

       “I guess you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” She managed to smolder at him which managed to both amuse and arose Lip at the same time.

        “How many of those have you had?” Lip asked.

        “Don’t worry about it, Dad, I can handle my alcohol, see?” Y/N downed the rest of her wine and smiled.

         “Maybe you should go back to your friends.”

         “I’m sick of them, I want to talk to you.” Y/N leaned more of her weight into Lip and he paused to grab her. 

          He kept his lit cigarette between his lips as he pulled her to stand upright. “Fine, let’s talk.”

         “Can I try one of those?”

          “Why would you want to smoke?” Lip asked.

         “Because I can.”

          Lip looked at her skeptically before handing her cigarette and lighting it for her. Of course, Y/N almost immediately began coughing, making everyone turn to look at her and Lip. Lip shook his head as he patted her back.

          “You have to inhale deeper before you exhale, like this.” Lip showed her and Y/N nodded before following his lead. “See, it’s easy.”

          “Thanks,” Y/N said.

          “Geez, I feel like I’m corrupting you.”

          “You’re not. I’ve done a lot more than you think I have.”

          “What does that mean?”

         Unfortunately, Lip was interrupted by the strains of “Hips Don’t Lie” coming from inside. Y/N squealed. “I love this song!” 

          She tossed her cigarette down and ground it out with her toe before hurrying inside.

         “Y/N.” Lip got rid of his cigarette as well and followed Y/N’s lead.

         He almost immediately lost her but quickly spotted her dancing with Ian. They had created some sort of salsa two-step that mostly consisted of Ian twirling Y/N around and dipping her. Though Lip trusted Ian, he couldn’t help but feel protective over Y/N. It was strange how worrying about her sobered him up.

          “You’re being ridiculous; you barely know her,” he hissed to himself.

          He decided he needed another drink and headed into the kitchen. That’s where he found Mandy, mixing drinks at the kitchen counter while another group of people played flip cup.

           “Hey, stranger,” Mandy said as she poured a drink into a glass.

           “What made you hide out in here?”
           “Tyler Sanders’ hands kept wandering to places I did not want them to. I decided to see how good of a bartender I am.” Mandy handed him the glass she just poured.

           “Thanks.” He took a sip. “Not bad, what is it?”

          “Dirty martini.”

           “Of course. Did you know that Y/N was coming?”

           “No, but I saw Y/O/B/F/N leave the bathroom wiping her nose and figured Y/N had to be around somewhere. She is full of surprises.”

             “Yeah,” Lip muttered.

             “Do I need to make you another drink?”

              “Maybe later.”

             “That sour look on your face wouldn’t have anything to do with Y/N being into the party scene, right?”

             “Not really, it’s just weird seeing her drunk.”

            “I like it, it makes her more relatable. She’s not better than either of us.”

            “Of course she’s not. She goes to a Chicago public school.”

            “True, but maybe you’re so weirded out by it because you liked the idea of her being super innocent and you don’t like that you can’t be her first, well, whatever.”

             He hated how right Mandy was sometimes. While it was kind of cool to see Y/N let lose, Lip kind of liked the idea of making her do something bad just for him. He had no idea when those feelings started but seeing her act so drunk was bringing them out.

            After a couple more drinks, he and Mandy made their way back into the living room, where Y/N and Ian were the center of attention. It made sense since the openly gay Gallagher was grinding with the supposed sweetheart of the south side. 

             “Y/N’s got moves,” Mandy said.

             “Uh huh,” Lip said, trying to ignore the tinges of jealousy creeping up on him.

            However, everything came to a head when Y/N pulled Ian close and they began making out, causing everyone to scream and yell. That was the last straw. Lip quickly broke them up, much to the crowd’s chagrin.

             “What the hell, Lip?” Ian demanded.

            “Ian, you don’t know what you’re doing, you’re drunk and you have a boyfriend,” Lip hissed.

            “Not really, besides, Y/N’s a good kisser. Were you jealous?” Ian shot back.

              “Jealous? Why would you be jealous?” Y/N slurred. Then she grinned. “You wanna dance with me, Lip?”

                She wrapped her arms around Lip’s neck and leaned into him. Lip’s arms immediately wrapped around her waist out of instinct but he didn’t start dancing. Mandy and Ian had begun dancing together somewhere else in the room.

               “Y/N, you’re drunk.”

               “I wanna dance.” She turned around in Lip’s arms and began grinding against him, leaning her head against his chest.

               Lip gulped before hesitantly grinding with her, holding her hips and keeping her pressed against him. He didn’t know what got into him but he began kissing down the side of her neck. Then, he turned her to face him and grabbed her face in his hands and really looked at her. Her eyes were completely dilated but she was so beautiful.

                “I can’t do this.”

                 “Do what? Dance with me?” Y/N teased.

                “Not just that, it’s, you’re too perfect. You deserve better than this, better than me.”

                Lip moved to pull away from Y/N, but she grabbed him. Her eyes held a deep sincerity in them, albeit they were extremely dilated.

                 “You’re perfect,” she said with a large smile. 

                  “You’re drunk.”

                  “Yes, but I know that you’re funny, really smart, and loyal, a little impulsive, and a bit self-destructive. And you’re daring and really, really, really hot,” Y/N said.

                  “You really think all that about me?”

                   Y/N nodded. “Ever since second grade, but I thought I wasn’t cool enough for you, but I do go out sometimes and I have made many questionable decisions.”

                  Lip had a lot of questions, a majority of which had to do with what questionable decisions Y/N had made. But, all he could think about was how Y/N thought she wasn’t good enough for him. 

                 “You’re cool in your own way.”

                  “Now that’s a load of bullsh-t.” Y/N started laughing, a sound that made Lip smile.

                 He cupped her face in his hands again and slowly, she stopped laughing. Lip stayed quiet and leaned towards her slowly. Y/N closed her eyes, awaiting to be kissed only to be surprised when Lip kissed her on her forehead.

                 “You missed,” Y/N said.

                 “No. I want you to remember the first time I kiss you and you’re way too sh-tfaced to do that right now. If you still feel the same way about me when you’re sober, we can pick up where we left off.”

                 “But I want you now. I promise I won’t regret it.”

                 Lip didn’t listen to any of her protests as the night went on. So, they continued dancing, earning winks and rude gestures from Ian and Mandy. When the party was over, Lip took Y/N home to make sure she was safe. 

                “But who’s gonna walk you home?” Y/N asked as Lip helped her walk up the steps.

                  “I am.”

                “Why do you get to walk yourself home and not me?”

                “For one thing, I wouldn’t fall if you let go of my shoulders,” Lip said.

                Y/N huffed and leaned against her front door. Lip fished her keys out of her purse and unlocked the door for her. 

                “All right, now be quiet. The last thing we need is your parents coming after me.”

                Y/N nodded and wrapped her arms around Lip’s neck, giggling quietly. Before Lip could stop her, she pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek before pulling away. “Good night, Lip.”

               “Night, Y/N.”

               She slipped into her house and Lip closed the door behind her.

               All he could do now was pray that she felt the same way about him in the morning.

Breeding Time.

Hi guys! It’s Raphaëlle talking! Hope you were good to Santa this year. But in all honestly, I preferred you when you’re naughty ;)

Submission of Thunder-Banger 

Disclaimer: Smut. Breeding kink. Daddy kink. Swearing. If you are a prude, you’ll may want to scratch your eyes out.

Words : 2537

MasterList.

Imagine, you just got out of Belle Rêve and he wants to put a baby up your belly. 

 *** 

It was 00h37 when you arrived at J’s house. Tiredness was dripping from all the pores of your skin. Escaping Belle Rêve was harder than you thought it would be. At some point you even stop believing it was possible. Guards were surrounding you from everywhere, Mr J’s men were all getting killed. 

At some point, it was sure in your head that you were going back into your cage tonight, an helicopter came out of nowhere and drop you a rope. Holding you firmly by your waist, J hoisted the both of you up to safety, bullets charging at you from everywhere. 

 The helicopter drop you off when you were in a safe perimeter. A car was waiting for you. You climbed in it while J killed the pilot. You were happy to see that he thought of bringing you clothes to changes. You went in the backseat so you had more place to change before going back in the front. You pulled down the window and pitched the orange uniform as hard as you could.

 It took 15 hours of driving before arriving at J’s house. 15 hours of driving in pure silence. He wasn’t saying a word, you weren’t either.

 When the Rover pulled up the entry of the mansion, the sun was beginning to go down, J told you to not wait for him, that he’ll be back later in the night. You didn’t ask any questions, you didn’t have the force to, and even if you had your brain wouldn’t have registered his answer. 

 You climbed off the vehicle, and went directly inside, to your room, more precisely, while you heard him putting the car on reverse and leaving the manor. Getting out of your stained blood clothes, you slipped yourself under the cover of the bed you share with J. 

 The smooth mattress under you felt so good after the year you passed slipping on the floor that you can’t help yourself: as soon as your head touch the pillow, you fell asleep. 

 *** 

 You were put out of your sleep, maybe some hours later, you didn’t know, by a sticky and hot substance that was running down your cheeks. You were laying down on your side by the window, so the sticky stuff was going all over your lips. 

 Still light-headed and not really sure of what was happening, you just ran your tongue over your lips. When the viscous substance touched your taste buds, you knew exactly what it was. You opened your eyes immediately and raised yourself up. You turn yourself on the left side and come face to face with J, who had is hard-purplish meat in between is hand. 

 Cum

 His torso was raising up and down in a fast speed, his eyes closed and a little smile tucking his lips softly. His boxer were only down at the middle of his thighs. Humidity was starting to make its way into your panties, but you shook your head, furious. 

 “What the fuck J!” 

 When your voice reach is ears, his blue eyes finally come into sight. 

 “What? I had blue balls for almost a year, I needed little relief.” 

 “But were you really obligated to cum on my motherfucking cheek?! I was finally having a good damn night of sleep!” You said, rage spilling out of you. 

 “I jacked off so often to your pictures that they are all ruined now.” 

 “Oh please, you’re worse than a fucking teenager.” 

 “Don’t speak like that to me. You never complained before.” 

 “J, I just spend 9 fucking months in jail sleeping on the goddamn floor. Is it too hard to ask from you to just leave me alone for one goddamn night? Just cum into your fucking pillow.” 

 Suddenly, your cheeks were caught in his right hand, putting your mouth awkwardly forward. His eyes were getting cloudy with anger. He was slowly gritting his teeth, the metal of it making a sound that gave you goosebumps all over. 

 “Listen to me you little brat. You are not allowed to speak to me on that tone. You are not allowed tell what to do with my fucking dick. If I want to mark you like a fucking dog who mark a tree by pissing on it, I’ll fucking do it. Do you understand?” He was so calm compared to his eyes, it was scary. You didn’t want to answer. 

 “ANSWER!” He screamed. 

 “Y-yes, J.” 

 “J? Wow, they really had fun with you in there, hey? So much you forget who I was. I should give you a spanking for that. But I’ll give you one more chance. Yes-who?

 You didn’t want a spanking. At least, not tonight. 

 “Yes, Daddy.” 

 He gave you a smile. You gave him one in return.

 “Good girl. Now undress and get on your hands and knees.” 

 You smile slowly faded to an uncertain look. 

 “What, but Daddy I did everything you asked!” 

 He gave you a malicious smile. He just win a hiding game he had been playing. 

 Knowing that if you didn’t do it, the consequences would’ve been worse, you did what you were told. Getting out of bed, the coldest of the room came rushing at you, making the hair of your arms raising. Your back was facing him so you couldn’t see the expression on his perfect face when you pull up your shirt, revealing your braless torso. You began to slowly slide down your burgundy velour short along with your lilac laced panties. 

 You turned on your heels, coming face to face with Mr. J, whose eyes was eating you alive. You could see the lust in them, the desire to swallow you in one shot. His cock had already took a deep red color and was able to support itself by its own. 

 Some liquid was already showing at the tip and you couldn’t help yourself at the sight: you squeezed your thighs to get some friction. Its only when you did that that you realised how wet you were. You could feel it running shamelessly down your legs. A deep shade of pink appeared and colored all of your face. You hided yourself behind your (h\c) hair. 

 “Don’t be shy baby. You weren’t before you left.” 

 You stay still. 

 “What? You became a prude in there? Your baby hole got closed up? You sucked a dick to deep you busted your vocal cords?” 

 You bite your lips at his obscene words. 

 “You like that? You like thinking about another’s dick deep in your throat? Hum? You like that little slut?” 

 “I-I only like your cock, Daddy.” You affirmed. 

He show you his metal teeth. 

 “Good girl. Now on the bed. It’s time for your punishment.” 

 Without missing a beat, you go on the bed, on your hands and knees, putting your ass facing him and a little bit higher than the rest of your body, to make it seems more enticing. You can feel the bed moving under you and you know exactly that J is moving to try to get the best angle for your spanking. 

 His rough hands are suddenly touching the bare skin of you ass. A good goosebumps make all of the hair on your body raised up in excitement. You could feel the coldness of his golden bracelets travel behind his hands. 

 “You know why I am punishing you babygirl?” He ask, the roughness of his voice showing up. 

 “Because I have been a bad girl to my Daddy.” 

 “You are right baby. That little mouth of yours put you in trouble. I thought I educated you better than that.” 

 “I’m sorry Daddy…” 

 “Being sorry won’t save you baby girl.” 

 Then come the first slap. It sound echoed in the room along with my hiss. He messaged it for a while before hitting the same spot even harder. The same pattern kept going for a while: hit, massage, hit harder, hit, massage, hit harder… You were a moaning mess at the end, and you couldn’t feel your ass.

 “You can’t imagine how much I love the sight of your ass all red and ready.

 You can feel his fingers sliding down carefully towards your wet folds. You moaned when you felt his big finger splitting your lips apart to give him a better look. 

 “That’s it baby, make your little pussy cry me a river.” He said while putting a finger inside of you. 

 You could feel your walls trying to suck it in, recognising it right of the bat. Your pussy was squeezing his finger so hard that when he tried to retract it, a sound of suction could be heard. It’s like if your pussy didn’t to be left without him. 

 Of course you were used to getting something in it every day. Before getting your ass into Belle Rêve, you always had his daddy stick up your tight cunt. 

My, my, my baby, you’re so fucking tight it almost hurt!” 

 Another finger was added to the equation. You bite the sheets under you, muffling the sounds of your moans at the same time. Your daddy’s fingers were hammering inside of you. And you could hear the sound of slapping flesh all around you. 

 Suddenly, you were on your belly, face to face with him. His fingers were shot down your throat without warning, making you chocked over the surprise. You started to swirl your tongue around, the taste of your juice all over your mouth. Soon enough, his fingers were replaced by his tongue. Your wet muscle was dancing with his for a couple minutes, spit falling down of your mouth at how sloppy the kiss was. 

 "You know what baby? I think I found a better way to show people who you belong to.“ 

 ”What is it daddy?“ You asked, in a baby voice.

 His big blue eyes was on you the all time he was lowering his head so his mouth could be at the level of your ear. His fingers were moving all around your body, pinching your nipples at some point, which made you trembled. 

 ”I’m going to breed that little cunt of yours.“ He whispered. You cried out in ecstasy as your hands grabbed a hold of the covers on your bed as his ginormous cock entered your tight little pink pussy.

 You could hear his moans of pleasure as his dripping cock head pushed against the wet, tight walls of your cunt. 

 ”Fuck yeah, suck daddy’s meat with your tight little cunt. Make me feel good babygirl.“ 

 He started moving slowly inside you, breaking the tight suction of your hole around the thickness of his cock. He started to move faster as your moans begin to be louder and louder, working his cock completely in and out of your little cunt. 

 “Mm… that’s it, little pussy, grab onto my cock. Make me fuck it harder.” 

 J grunted with every thrust into your little pussy. His balls popping against your clit over and over slowly turning your pussy into a lake of wetness. Your moans turned into screams ad you knew that if anybody were to be in the house, they would perfectly heard you. 

 He dug his fingers once more into your hips, pulling you into his hard thrust. He could feel his gut twisting in pleasure inside of him. It was so good, so good. It was making his balls tighten with every stroke. He was about to breed his babygirl. 

 ”Fuck, I can’t wait to put my fucking baby inside you.“ 

 You could feel your muscle started to cramp over the movement of in and out of his meat inside of you. Sweat was dripping all over his face. You lift yourself up to wipe it with your tongue. J moaned at your action. You smiled, proud to make him feel so good. But you were rapidly pull back into the bed by his hand that was now wrapped around your tiny neck. 

 He used his grip as leverage, his cock slapping inside you harder than ever. The smell of your sweet cunt cream scented the air around him and made him go totally insane. He put every muscle he had into pushing as deep as he could into you, to push as far up into your belly as he could get and breed your little hole with his potent seed. 

 ”Oh god, daddy! You’re gonna make me cum with your long, big stick!

 Your pussy clenched down on his dick like a vice, making it close to impossible for him to withdraw. Suction noises was flying in the air as he kept pounding into you. You were still trembling underneath him. 

 You could tell he was close to cum. 

 ”C'mon you little fucking cunt. Milk me. Fuck!“ 

 When his orgasm hit he screamed. It felt like his cock was exploding inside your sucking walls, milking the seed from his swollen balls into waiting womb to breed you. He dived as deeply as he could into you. Again and again he stabbed his meat into you forcing your womb to opened up against the head of his cock. 

 “Fuckkkkk yeah… swallow it… little pussy,” he hunched his cock against your womb with every spurt. 

 “Swallow all of Daddy's… hot seed,” he grunted, shaking as he forced the head tight against your cervix and held it there, letting the last drops leak into your opening. Allowing your womb to suckle on the tip, trying to draw every drop from his potent cock. 

 “God damn… suck it… suck it,” he moaned before finally collapsing on top of you as his softening cock fell out of your pussy with an obscene slurp. 

 Your chest was falling heavily as you tried to regulate your respiration. You gently passed your hand into his green hair, kissing his temple sweetly. He raised his head that was currently burried beside your neck and kissed you slowly. 

 “You took all of Daddy’s big cock, little girl,” he murmured against your lips, pecking it once. 

 “And Daddy is really proud of his babygirl,” he pecked it once again. 

 "Nobody will ever take you away from me now.“ He said, rubbing your belly who will soon be the home of somebody else.

The Mistake (Part 3) - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @were-cheetah-stiles

Title: “The One With The Wedding In Beacon Hills”

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Allison Argent, Scott McCall, Isaac Lahey, Melissa McCall, Noah Stilinski, Chris Argent, Lydia Martin & Reader

Author’s Note: There may or may not be a few pictures of Dylan from the LA American Assassin premiere in this. I imagine that all of the groomsmen wore three piece suits, and Scott wore the same color and pattern, just no vest. ANYWAY… anyway… um…. y/f/c is your favorite color, I’m not trying to tell you what color or style dress you look good in.  Also, go read Between Us, by @fillthevoid-stilinski. Without her and without that fic, this ish would not exist.

Songs: The links will be on the song titles throughout the story as well. In order as they play: Doris Troy. Etta James. Haley Reinhart. Don’t have to listen but I don’t know, Etta James’ really adds to the moment…

Summary: Stiles and Y/n continue their charade at Scott and Allison’s wedding, but find that they are both quickly having trouble keeping their respective feelings hidden from one another, and everyone else.

Prologue - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Epilogue

Originally posted by dylanobrien

You spent all of Friday running around town with either the wedding planner, Allison, or one of the other bridesmaids, so you had managed to avoid Stiles all day and you were relieved. Between the fake relationship and the real marriage, you were at the end of your emotional tether. Denying your feelings for Stiles was becoming harder and harder each time you laid your eyes on his handsome, wonderful, stupid fucking face. You glanced down at your phone in your lap, as the hairdresser curled your hair into an updo behind you.

Biles Bilinski: How’s it going over there?

You: fine.

Biles Bilinski: Giz

Biles Bilinski: You have got to stop being pissed at me.

Biles Bilinski: I didn’t do anything and I miss you.

You sighed heavily at the last three words on your screen.

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4 o’ clock

Request: Tae scenario? His escape from the idol life is a spot where he takes pictures and he notices a girl there? He wants to talk to her but she’s a foreigner so they have trouble talking

Words: 2K 

Genre: Fluff; drabble


Originally posted by jungkook-gifs


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