i just wanted to see will smile

Best worst week ever

This week has been Awful! Anything that could go wrong did go wrong. I failed an exam , had to uber across town because i found out i had the wrong location to an impkrtant meeting, 5 minutes before it started.


But then


Today. Well first of all, for those that don’t know, among all the other stuff yall know I dk, I’m a mentor to two kids at the program that serves underprivileged youth. Today we took all the mentees to the haunted corn maze. My kids are the ones often made fun of, and overlooked. There was a prize for the group that made it out first. Of course my group started off in the back and got lost a bunch of times. To the point where we had given up. Then one of my kids said “Mr. james! I thi k is know the way to the end.” Even i was like “yea right!” So he just took off running, and when i fnally caught up with them, i hadnt even realized we were out. And no other team was even close. Seeing the smiles on their face for being winners of something(a rare experience for them) made all the bs i went through worth it. And then on top of that. We were elected “Mentor/Mentee of the month” before today, everything this week made me question whether i was going down the right path. But then. Seeing the smiles on my mentee’s faces. And the positive influence ive had on them and the other kids i serve as a social worker and volunteer was all the affirmation i needed. Just wanted to share that with yall. I been goin through it. But i’m good. :)

Originally posted by thekanyewestarchive

Gotta be quiet // Shawn Blurb

Shawn knows he shouldn’t hold your waist like he is. He shouldn’t touch your sides and tilt your chin up like he is. But he is. Shawn was the stable master’s son and you were the princess to the four kingdoms. He had no right to touch you the way he did, but you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t like it.

“Down you go,” Shawn says and puts his hands on your waist to help you down off of your new black horse your father got you for your birthday last month. It was only the fourth time you’d ridden him and you hadn’t even picked out a name for him yet. You just couldn’t decide. “Did you have a good ride?”

You nod, a blush tinting your cheeks. Shawn had ridden behind you, his hands on your hips the entire time, occasionally he would tilt your head up when you started looking down to see where his hands were. He insisted that the new horse was too unpredictable and he wanted to make sure you didn’t get bucked off. The ride had been smooth and it was just another day of you taking the horse around the corral to get him used to the way you rode. However, Shawn being behind you with his hands on you was very distracting from your usually relaxing ride. “It was great. I think he likes me.”

“Oh, he does,” Shawn smirks and you aren’t sure if he means the horse or himself because the way he’s smiling insinuates himself. “You should come by and see him everyday.”

“Should I?” you ask with a little smile and he nods. “Do you want to see me everyday boy?” you ask your horse, petting his nose and he just remains still. “Is that so?” you ask, acting as if the horse was telling you something. “Shawn likes me? He talks about me all the time?”

“P-Princess!” Shawn’s cheeks go pink and he pulls the horse’s reins to lead him away.

“I was only teasing you Shawn! No need to get so embarrassed! I think you’re cute too!” you call after him but he doesn’t turn around. “Shawn, come back!” He stops and leads the horse into his stall. He turns to look at you and you smirk at him, “That’s an order, Shawn.”

Shawn locks the horse’s stall and comes back to you. He walks you back against the side of an empty stall next to the corral doors and pins you in. “You think I’m cute?” he asks and your heart races. This wasn’t like the usual quiet Shawn you knew. “You think it’s easy for me to see you everyday and be around you but know I can never have you?”

“Sh-shawn…” you mutter and he licks his lower lip. This was just how you dreamed of Shawn finally making a move on you.

“I see how you look at me. I’ve seen the way you ogle my ass when I’m washing the horses, the way you think I don’t see you watching me when I change into my riding clothes in an empty stall. I know you’ve seen it all. I know you want me.”

You’re bright red. You thought you had been clever, sneaking glances of him changing and hiding behind the trees around the corral when he washed the horses out in the field. You were so sure you had been discreet. Apparently not. “So what if I want you? You know it’s forbidden for the staff to have relations with the royal family.”

“I know. I just don’t fucking care,” he grins and presses his lips to yours. Your hands go to his back and he grabs your hips, pulling you against him, You open your mouth and he licks in hungrily. Your nails dig into his back and he bites your lip, causing you to yelp. His hand flies to your mouth and covers it. “Gotta be quiet, princess. Don’t want anyone to find out about us.” You nod and he moves his hand away. “It’s going to be hard, but I promise if you stay quiet I’ll give you everything you dream about at night.”

Light Up the Ice - Chapter 1

Summary: Aelin Galathynius has never really been into sports. Yes, she likes to keep in shape, and she works out, but watching people run up and down a field, trying to keep a leather ball away from each other? It’s always seemed a bit childish to her, and decidedly NOT a way for a grown adult to make a living.

Rowan Whitethorn has recently been drafted by the Terresen Staghorns, one of best teams in the EHL (Erilean Hockey League). And since he moved to Terresen from Wendlyn, it’s been hard for him to get more than 30 seconds alone from someone demanding a picture with him. Getting drafted straight out of college wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but he’s not complaining. Until he accidentally meets a girl. More specifically, until he accidentally meets his neighbor. She seems to have no idea who he is and for some reason, that’s refreshing. But will she still want to be with him once he shows her the truth?

Author’s Note: Well, friends, here we are! My newest multi-chapter has begun! This is a spinoff of my one-shot Missed Dreams and Lost Sleep which, if you haven’t read, I suggest you read it before you dive into this one! You can find it HERE! I’ve been bouncing this idea off of @tacmc for about a month at this point and I am so excited to share it with you guys! Enjoy!

Originally posted by liddellmadness


Keeping his feet moving was the only thing that kept Rowan Whitethorn from falling asleep on the ice. He harshly tapped his stick on the ice, letting his teammate know he was open for a pass.  The puck glided across the ice to the other side, and he skated around the back of the net, changing his position to where he was supposed to be next.

He danced around the edge of goal, staying out of the way of the goalie and was ready, waiting. He didn’t see the stick of the defensemen in front of him, however, and his skate got tangled up in it.

He hit the ice, shoulder first, taking the other player’s stick with him and groaned. Before he could make a move to get back on his feet, he got hit in the chest with the puck. Hard.

Gasping and resting on his hands and knees, he heard the whistle blow.

“Whitethorn!” He looked up, finding Coach Brello skating through the neutral zone. “Where the hell is your head today?”

He made it back to his feet and winced as he rubbed at his chest through the thick pads. Ress retrieved his stick from the ice by his feet and clapped him on the shoulder.

Everyone knew Brello was fair, but he was harsh when it came to slacking off on the ice, whether that was at practice or during a game.

“Just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, coach,” he said, standing to his full height of 6’4. “My building had a false fire alarm and we were all evacuated for most of the night. I’m here, I promise. It won’t happen again.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Let me make sure you can get some sleep tonight.” Almost as one, the entire team turned to glare at him. “Speed backchecks, let’s go! Line up!”

There were quiet grumbles as everyone skated to the other side. Rowan’s line sidled up beside him.

Lorcan, the Terrasen Staghorns’ captain, and Rowan’s left defenseman glared down at him. “Getting real sick of running drills thanks to assholes who can’t do their job at practice.”

Fenrys, his right winger, snorted from Rowan’s other side. “Says the one who caused us to run puck control drills for forty-five minutes last week because you bounced the Valg’s captain’s head off the ice.”

“He deserved it. He was playing dirty.” The sentence was more growl than it was words.

Gavriel, his right d-man, said under his breath, “If you don’t both shut up, coach will have us running a lot more than just backchecks.”

As the whistle blew and Lorcan and Gavriel took off towards the puck at the center of the ice, Fenrys nudged him. “You sure you didn’t finally get some last night?” There was a gleam in his dark eyes. “Didn’t finally sample some of the sweet things Terrasen has to offer?”

He turned away so the fastest forward in the EHL wouldn’t see the blush attempting to creep onto his already flushed face. “No, man, I wasn’t with anyone last night.”

Lie. It was an outright lie, but only because Fenrys was talking about spending some time in the bedroom. He didn’t say anything about the front lawn of his building or the diner down the road.

The whistle blew, alerting them that Lorcan netted the puck. He and Fenrys took off, having to go 2x2 until one of the pairs scored. They hadn’t lined up fairly, and Rowan planned to use that to his advantage. Two forwards against two d-men would typically be pretty evenly matched, but with Fenrys’ speed and Rowan’s puck handling, they would make quick work of their captain and alternate.

Fenrys beat him to the puck – unsurprisingly – and passed it to Rowan as he made to curve behind Gavriel. He chipped it with his stick, sending it around Gavriel, who expected it to skirt in front of his skates. Lorcan anticipated it though and had fallen back, ready for the forward to charge ahead. Fenrys wrapped behind the net and with expert skill, Rowan sent the puck to him and fell back. Lorcan had to decide, keep an eye on Rowan or keep Fenrys from netting the puck.

He chose wrong.

Turning to press Fenrys, the puck slid to Rowan’s waiting stick. Rearing back, with a crack that filled the empty arena, he sent the puck flying towards the goal. It caught in the netting and the goal horn blew.

“Looks like Mr. Whitethorn finally decided to show up for practice,” Brello hollered from the box where he and the assistant coach were manning the horn controls. He glanced at his watch. “Next line, reset the puck and go. They completed the full drill in less than 50 seconds. If you cross a minute, you’ll be running drive drills until my wife gets home from work.”

The entire team knew that Brello wasn’t married.

Skating over to the benches, the first line grabbed their bottles. Rather than drinking his, Rowan sprayed the water over his face and neck, shaking his silver hair out.

“Good misdirect, Rowan,” Gavriel, said, one leg swung over the wall separating the ice from the bench.

As he nodded his thanks, Lorcan said, “Use that against Red Desert tomorrow night and they’ll have no idea what direction you’re coming from.”

The rest of practice flew by. Rowan tried to keep his mind on the game, on practice, but his mind kept drifting back to last night. Back to the laughs that he’d shared with her; to the 24-hour diner she’d shown him down the street; to when he’d stood outside her door this morning and asked if he could call her and she’d said no, temporarily causing him to think back through the whole night. Had he been that far off on how she’d been looking at him? When she’d said he could just knock on her door and then shut said door in his face, a devilish smirk on those lips, he couldn’t do anything but stare. And then smiled as he headed to his own door down the hall.

Pulling his phone out of his bag, he saw it was just after 5:30. People with real world jobs would just be getting off work now, so maybe he could catch her just as she was getting home. Maybe they could grab dinner. As he sat down in the locker room to take off his skates, that plan went out the window.

“Kennedy brothers, Whitethorn, Bourne.” He glanced up to see Brello holding a clipboard. He suppressed a groan. “I want you clocking another 3 hours in the gym tonight. Do it here, do it at home. Hell, do it at Planet Fitness for all I care. But I want at least an hour of cardio, an hour of free weights and an hour of bands. The rest of you rest up. I’ll see you at 10:30 for pre-game ice time tomorrow.”

Knowing that Bourne lived in a fancy high-rise with a gym and the Kennedy boys had a gym at home, Rowan elected to use the facilities gym. It wasn’t often he could work out in solitude. His morning run was the closest he got, but only because he was up before the rest of the city was.

Since he’d been drafted by the Terrasen Staghorns, it had been nearly impossible for him to get more than 30 seconds alone before someone noticed him, but so was the life of a professional hockey player in the Erilean Hockey League.

Coming from Wendlyn, he knew nobody here, yet everyone seemed to know him. Luckily, a few of his teammates – specifically, his new line –  hailed from the same lands, and he’d gotten in tight with them. They were now a force to be reckoned with, a perfect line of offense and defense and it was almost as if they had one thought process running throughout them.

That’s one reason that the girl from last night had been stuck on his mind. She looked at him like he was just a normal person, not a professional athlete. He wasn’t sure if she was very good at ignoring the obvious or if she genuinely didn’t know who he was.

Stripping out of his pads and putting on an old shirt from his days at the University of Doranelle, he tied the laces on his shoes and made his way to the gym. Might as well get this over with if he had any hope of seeing her again tonight.


Pulling the door open to her coffee shop, Aelin attempted to fight off a yawn. The little bell tied to the knob jingled, alerting Lysandra that there was someone coming in.

“Goooooood morning, boss, slash best friend, slash person who I love more than anyone else on this planet.” The dark-haired vixen called from behind the counter.

“Hey,” came a male voice from beside the door; Aelin’s cousin, Aedion.

She pointed a wet rag from where she’d been wiping down the counters in his direction. “Hush up. You don’t make my schedule.”

Aelin looked from her cousin back to her best friend, yawned, and said, “Somebody is obviously about to ask for another day off.”

“Blame him!” Lysandra said, pointing to Aedion, who immediately set his cup down and held his hands up in the universal gesture for I didn’t do anything. “He got tickets to the hockey game tomorrow night and wants me to go with him.”

Aelin fought the urge to roll her eyes and headed behind the counter. Lysandra handed her a cup of black coffee and she walked towards her office, sipping the sweet nectar as she unlocked the door. “I just don’t understand why you’d want to pay to watch a bunch of grown men play a child’s game.”

Aedion had stood and followed her into the back office Aelin used as her base of operations. He dropped a few envelopes on her desk and Aelin immediately began to open them, yawning again. Bills, ads, and teenage resumes; the usual mail she received. “Children don’t beat the shit out of each other when they play,” he said. “These guys do. It’s awesome.”

“Ooh.” The sarcasm lacing Aelin’s tone as she threw the sales flyers in the trash was evident.

“Come on, Aes,” he said, sitting in the chair in front of her desk. “My boss gave them to me because he can’t go. I really think Lys would have fun. Please?”

Turquoise and gold eyes met across the desk. Looking at her cousin, his bottom lip jutted out like a petulant child, she rolled her eyes. “Of course, I’ll let her have the night off. I’ll just cover the barista shift tomorrow night. It’s not a big deal.”

Aedion jumped up and ran around the desk, planting a loud kiss on his cousin’s cheek. Aelin pushed him away as she fought off another yawn.

“Okay, that’s the fourth time you’ve yawned since you stepped foot in the door,” Lysandra said, leaning on the frame of the doorway separating the office from the front of the Staghorn Café. “What’s up?”

Aedion turned and looked her up and down. “You didn’t finally get laid, did you?”

“Ugh, Aedion,” Aelin groaned. “You’re practically my brother. You don’t get to ask things like that.”

“Yeah, Aedion,” Lysandra said, smacking him on the shoulder and plopping into the seat he had just vacated. “But I’m the best friend, so I do. Who’s the lucky guy?”

Letting her head fall into her hands, she said, “I did not finally get laid.” She put emphasis on finally since so were they. It had only been 3 months since she and Chaol decided they just didn’t work as a couple. They were actually great friends now, his current girlfriend working as Aelin’s baker, filling her shop with the delicious scents of freshly baked bread and pastries. She and Nesryn got along surprisingly well, considering the awkward way they knew each other.

“The fire alarm got pulled in the building at, like, three this morning. I had to sit on the front lawn until the sun rose and they cleared the building for us to go back in. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“So there wasn’t a guy involved?” Aedion asked, and the tips of Aelin’s ears involuntarily turned pink as she thought about him.

Lysandra squealed and shoved Aedion out the door. “Man the counter, babe.” She slammed the door in his face and sat back in front of the desk, her green eyes huge as she waited for Aelin to fill her in. A muffled “I don’t even work here!” could be heard through the door. Lysandra sat, waiting.

Aelin couldn’t stop the smile that broke across her face, causing Lysandra to squeal again. “It was him, wasn’t it? Your neighbor?”

“Rowan,” was all Aelin said, and Lysandra cried, “You got his name?!”

So Aelin gave her the quick recap of the night, from waking up to the alarm screeching to turning around and seeing Rowan in nothing but boxer-briefs, to watching the sunrise and grabbing breakfast from Emrys’ Diner down the block. By the time Aelin finished, she could tell Lysandra was already trying to decide what kind of dress she should wear as the maid-of-honor in their wedding. Her green eyes were wide and she asked, “What’s his last name?”

Aelin opened her mouth and then closed it. Somehow, she hadn’t gotten it last night. They’d mostly talked about trivial things; movies they liked, their favorite breakfast foods, the path Aelin normally took when she was running.

“I’m not sure,” Aelin said honestly.

“You have to find out! What if it’s like “Johnson” or “Peters” or,” she gasped. “Cox?”

Rolling her eyes, Aelin pointed towards the door. “Out. You can have tomorrow night off. Enjoy watching the man-children ‘beat the shit out of each other’,” she said, quoting Aedion.

Blowing a kiss across the desk, Lysandra jumped up and ran back out front.

Yawning, Aelin took another long drag of her coffee.

She was exhausted. She hadn’t gotten to run this morning or take a shower or even start her laundry from the night before. But it was worth it.

Glancing at the time on her computer, she saw it was 11:45 in the morning. She wouldn’t be home until nearly 10:00 that night. Hopefully, he wouldn’t stop by when she wasn’t home. Hopefully, if he did, he wouldn’t take her lack of answer as a lack of interest.

Hopefully, she’d be seeing him again tonight.


Tag List (people who told me they’d be interested, I’ll start a full tag list on Ch 2): @abigailmadeline, @tacmc , @bbyshadowbat , @tiny1hallie , @photofeesh , @queenoffantasy , @otaku-trash-sendhelp1000-7 , @yourejustassaneasiam3 , @eternally-reading , @queen-archeron .

One of the things I love so much about this fandom is that we genuinely care more about Taylor as a human being than as an artist, and I don’t think that that can be said about a lot of other fandoms. All we want is to see her happy and flourishing and successful. We went three years without new music, a year without really much content, and we were all still here, making sure she knew how much we love and appreciate her, and that we would still be here when she was ready to come back. Then, the second she did, we made sure we broke all the records for her, just because we knew it would make her smile. The love and respect we all have for Taylor is unlike anything else. 

Curtain Call

First Part: Brave

Second Part: Breathing Space                                                        

Third Part: Plotting                                                                      

Fourth Part: New Arrangement                                                

Fifth Part: Spinning                                                                        

Sixth Part: Distraction                                                            

Seventh Part: Interlude                                                                

Eight Part: Duet                                                                            

Ninth Part: Pep Talk

Tenth Part: Break A Leg

Eleventh Part: Lights Up

Twelfth Part: Overheard

Part 13 in my developing Roman/Virgil University!AU <3

Tag List: @extremepenguin10 @interstellarroadkill @jadorefreedom @flowersheep @helpimafangirlposts @imthenewproxy  @isnt-that-wizard @panicitssammyanddean  @serenity0092 @ekkosoundspn @datonerougecookeh @intriguedslytherin @squashymoon-wink @thatdamfangirl12 @artidan @queensire @softbludemon @hopefullyalways  @lucky-clover-cannot-hear-you @saltequeen @smiles-and-fandoms @faydedtruely  @justanotherpurplebutterfly @thisimmortalnerd @dinohunter5904 @pippa-frost @viva-la-nordics @invisibleninjah @usernamestakewaytooeffinglong  @scouttheoneandonly @cutecatwhiskers  @xix-leiloves-xix @musicphanpie-b  @shipperofallthings-vk @v-blue-writer @protaganope @onehundredphans  @theatrenerd273 @phantom-opera @memelovingsun @huffletough @axapanda53  @musiclover152002 @pies-cakes-and-gays @silver-owl413 @ninja-kitty-more-like-no  @cup-of-blue @crazymadredfox  @eternal-sanders @deafchildcrossing @holdnarrytight @anxiousdepressedkid @gracefullyinsanedancingunicorn @breckein-blog @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch  @finding-flanders @broadwaytheanimatedseries @emo-space-trash @twinkly-lights  @mrrkiplrr @mylasagnaisraw @virgilmood @andy-the-anon @monikastec  @i-just-punched-malfoy @greymane902 @casmyth @fanficlover2022 @pattonknowsbigwords @irrelevantbutfabulous @lavender-smoothie @half-blood-geek  @ohheythanksforcheckingin @theseriouslysillyone @fandomsandanythingelse  @unknown-to-die @imthemayan @novagalaxy4real @blogfamousbouquetzombie  @multifandom-slytherin @spookyghostio @himrachel @rabbit-168 @icecoldparadise  @well-this-got-awkward  @consultinghuntertimelady@sockopath @anxiousfander @glazelazer  @heartofromangold @wlwitchallura @imnottrashiswear @elderpriceley @caseymosschopsmoss  @juju–universe @pixiethepinkfox  @noodley22 @altineygirl  @i-hate-this-part-right-here @sraaaaaaaah

Also on ao3 here


Act 2 feels… different. There’s no change in the show’s quality, not at all, but every time the stage lights are bright enough, Virgil finds himself taking out Roman’s letters again, squinting to read them, just to make sure he’s not dreamt the words. 

The third time he does this, Logan must notice out of the corner of his eye. He turns to Virgil, and Virgil can see him mouth ‘Are you alright?’

Virgil can only nod, still speechless. Roman’s passionate speech is still ringing in his ears, making him a little dizzy. It’s not a bad feeling, necessarily- like being stuck on a vigorous loop on a rollercoaster, but you’re suddenly wanting the swooping feeling to last forever. He notes with a grim satisfaction that there is no trace of Jake on stage.

And then, As Long as You’re Mine begins. And Virgil realises that, despite his bravado from earlier, the confrontation with Jake must still have shaken Roman, somewhat. His opening notes are still pitched well, but Virgil notices a slight tremor lurking beneath them, and he leans forward instinctively, wanting to help, but not sure how.

“Come on, Roman,” he murmurs and it’s ridiculous to think he could possibly have heard him.

But Roman’s head snaps up to look out into the audience and Virgil, for once, lets himself think and believe it: he’s looking for me.

Roman takes a breath, and starts to smile. His eyes stay fixed on Virgil’s as he sings, strong and sure: “Somehow I’ve fallen under your spell.” He finally tears his gaze away to look back at Rachel, so the line still makes sense. “And somehow I’m feeling… it’s up that I fell…”

Keep reading

rosered282  asked:

Could you please do 'I forgot it was halloween so I didn't dress up and now you're making fun of me' for Jonerys please?

“you didn’t dress up,” jon says even before she gets in the car and dany freezes.

“dress up?”  dany looks down.  she looks nice, she thinks.  she’s wearing a new dress that she’d gotten on sale when she had taken missandei shopping for interview clothes the week before, and had spent the past hour getting her hair in order.  it’s the first time she’s meeting jon’s brother robb, who he never shuts up about.  it’s a party, jon had told her over text two days ago.  if you don’t have other halloween plans.

“it’s halloween,” jon replies. and it all falls into place.  of course he’d meant a halloween party, not a regular one.  of course he had.

“you’re not dressed up,” dany points out.

“i am,” jon says and he pushes his long dark hair out of his face and she can see a lightning scar painted there.  he pulls a pair of fake round glasses from the dashboard of his car and pops them on his face.  

“cute,” dany says as she gets in the car.

“subtle, really.  especially after they started getting the actors to wear normal clothes in the movie,” he says and his face changes.  “you can’t go to robb and theon’s party not dressed up as anything.”

“i don’t own any costumes, so it’s gonna have to happen,” dany shrugs, pulling on the seat buckle.  

jon looks at her, half astounded.  “you don’t own any halloween costumes?  what are you, scrooge?”

“that’s christmas,” dany says dully, crossing her arms over her chest and looking out the window.  she waits for jon to turn the key in the ignition, but he doesn’t.  

“didn’t mean to tease,” he says at last.  “halloween’s a thing in my family.  like a real thing.”  she remembers.  she’s heard his story about dressing up as a ghost and covering himself in flour to freak out his younger siblings.

“i never celebrated growing up,” dany replies quietly.  “viserys never took me trick-or-treating or anything.  it’s just another day.”  she shrugs.

“is this gonna be your first halloween party?” jon asks her.

she looks at him.  his face is gentle now.  she nods.

“right,” he says.  “well…” he considers.  “i guess your look could be emma frost-ish if you wanted.”  he gives her a one over and she sees the way his eyes drink her in.  “but that’s only if you want.”

“emma frost…she’s one of magneto’s right?” dany’s already pulling out her phone to google it.  when the picture loads, she smiles and looks at him.  “if you can wait five minutes, i have an idea,” and jon nods and she’s out of the car again.  

five minutes was a bit of an underestimation, but it’s worth it.  gone is the demure blue dress she’d picked up at anthro and on with the small silver sheath she’d worn to her company’s holiday party the year before when she’d still been fucking daario and wanted him to never take his eyes off her.  she covers her eyes with silver eyeshadow and puts deep red on her lips.  then, with a sigh, she loosens the braids she’d spent so much time on so that the crimped hair falls in waves from behind a high silver headband.  but the time is worth it when she comes back out of the house and sees jon’s face as she marches towards his car and gets in again.  

“jesus,” he mutters, and she smiles at him and leans over the gearshift to kiss him.

“merlin,” she corrects.  “if you’re going to be harry potter, at least get the swears right.”

they. just. they look so cosy. and warm. and so cute? like… and they are hugging. and their faces are so gorgeous, and they’re smiling… i don’t want to be dramatic but i have never seen anything more perfect in my life and November 2nd will be the day I die from seeing the whole thing in HQ

anonymous asked:

Prompt fic: what if Mulder's rise from depression pre-revival is due to another woman who helped him? I'm on angst phase and I need it...

Hi anon. I’m not sure this is what you wanted, but the whole thing got away from me. In length and just about everything. Set pre-revival. 

Tagging @fictober and @today-in-fic

With shaky hands Mulder adjusts his sunglasses. The dark shades provide him with a sense of deceptive safety as he steps inside the coffee shop. A small bell over the door announces his entrance but no one seems to notice or care. Straightening his back, Mulder makes his way over to the counter. 

“Hi, how can I help you?“ The barista’s smile is sweet, her voice is sugar. Mulder blinks, realizes she can’t even see his eyes. 

"Tall coffee,” he mumbles, “black, please.” Four words he practiced on his way here. They roll off his tongue uneasily as if they were a strange language he doesn’t speak. 

“Here you go, Sir.” The young barista hands him his coffee and Mulder thanks her with a small nod of his head. The coffee is deliciously hot as he takes a sip, sitting down. It’s quiet here in this small town, but for someone who has been by himself, holed up in an unremarkable house in the middle of nowhere, it sounds like New York City during rush hour.

“The sun doesn’t shine in here, you know.” Mulder turns towards the voice. A woman, hips on her hands, tells him, her voice a challenge. 

“My eyes.” Mulder croaks out, his voice still warming up.

“What’s wrong with them?" She sits down at his table, uninvited, cradling her own coffee. 

"Are you an eye specialist?” When she laughs Mulder is reminded of bells; not like the one over the door. A soft sound, melodic and smooth. 

“No. I’m a school teacher. I always tell my students not to be rude. Wearing sunglasses inside is considered rude.” She takes a sip of her coffee and eyes him over the rim of her cup. Mulder feels the weight of the glasses on his nose. His hands still shaking, he takes them off. The light hits him in the face and he squints, grimaces. A moment later he opens his eyes, sees the woman still sitting there, grinning at him. 

“See? You’ve got nice eyes, Mr. Sunglasses. I’ve never seen you here before. Are you new in town or just visiting?" Years ago, when Scully took him out of the house for the first time in years, she told him to squeeze his hand whenever he felt uncomfortable. ‘I’m with you, Mulder’, she’d told him, ‘always remember that’. The muscles in his hand remember now, make him squeeze his coffee tightly. It’s been years since he’s been out, with Scully or by himself. She always asked him, up until the very end, and he shook his head, not looking at her, telling her to leave him there by himself. Have fun without him. He doesn’t know if she ever did have fun.

"I’m Elise,” the woman, either worse at reading social cues than he is, or simply not caring, goes on, “I moved here a couple of months ago from Chicago. You looked like someone who might understand.”

“Fox.” He says and her eyebrows shoot up. This woman looks nothing like Scully with her tall height, her long blond hair and dark eyes, but Mulder can’t help but think of all the times her eyebrows did the same in their regular 'you can’t be serious, Mulder’ manner. “That’s my name. Fox.”

“Your parents must have an interesting sense of humor, Fox.” She laughs again, the same gentle sound as earlier. Mulder has no idea who she is, this Elise, but for the first time in months he feels like the invisible hands around his throat loosen up. He feels like he can breathe, think. Mulder stares into this woman’s eyes and finds he doesn’t want to flee after all.

“It could have been worse” he says taking a sip from his own coffee, the taste deep and dark, calling him back to life, “they could have named me Kevin.” Elise laughs again, loud and free. Mulder flinches, recovers quickly. Amazed, he watches her, listens to the sounds she makes. For the next five minutes he doesn’t think about Scully, doesn’t think about darkness.

They meet again. And again and again. Mulder goes to bed at night, his heart fluttering just a tiny bit stronger, knowing that the next morning he gets to see Elise. These days he has a strict schedule. There is a time to get up, have breakfast, take his meds, go to the coffee shop. Scully would be proud of him. She is. She left a message on his machine yesterday; they’re always missing each other these days, their schedules no longer in sync. Her words quick, the sound of the hospital echoing behind her, she told him that she’s happy he’s working on getting better. Mulder smiled all through her message, imaging her in her oversized scrubs in between patients, thinking of him. He erased the message, no longer clinging to fleeting moments, went to bed and dreamed about Elise. 

Once their conversations turn darker, turn to lost sisters, forgotten children and love doomed, they move on. Move outside to take walks. Move further away to her home.

“Come inside, Fox. Come on.” Elise, Mulder has noticed, smiles a lot. She is younger than he is, even younger than Scully, but not by much. Yet she is the opposite of the both of them. Smiling with the sun, sometimes even brighter, laughing whenever she can. When Mulder is around her, he feels the cloak of despair lift off him, even if just for a moment, as she sprinkles him with her warmth, wraps him in it. She pours him a tea and the scent of hot peppermint fills her small living room.

“Coffee is not good this time of day, Fox,” she tells him, dropping a cube of sugar in her own cup, “so how about a movie tonight?” He drinks his tea as instructed, nods. 

He keeps a diary because his therapist suggested it. His daily writing becomes as much of a routine as his coffees with Elise. Tonight, though, there are no words. His pen is poised on the paper leaving a big, black dot. There is nothing on his mind except the message Scully left him earlier. He came in whistling, and wouldn’t Scully have found that just adorable?, when his machine blinked at him. A smile on his face already, a leftover from another day with Elise, he pressed the button as he untied his shoes. 'Mulder hi,’ there was a pause, a loud rustling, 'just wanted to tell you that I’ll be gone over the weekend in case you,’ another pause, 'wanted to call. I’ll be in Florida with a… a friend. Take care, Mulder. I’ll call you when I get back… bye.’ Mulder, one shoe still on his foot, listened to the message 62 times. That’s when the band snapped, erasing it for forever.

He doesn’t sleep that night. When the sun comes up in the morning, he is still wearing one shoe. He doesn’t shower but manages to swallow his pill with a glass of milk. His eyes burn as he gets on the bus to meet Elise. Her smile fades as soon as she sees him, but Mulder barely registers. His mind is elsewhere, on its way to Florida, to the past. Anywhere but here.

“You all right?” She asks him.

“I’m fine.” He answers and grimaces. Scully, he thinks. Fine like Scully. “Let’s get coffee. Find us a table.” Easy sentences for when he’s overwhelmed. No complications, no commas or dashes. 

Elise eyes him carefully, and he realizes he doesn’t know her well enough to read her expression. He hands her the coffee and she takes a sip, groans.

“What is this, Fox?”

“Your coffee.” He answers simply, drinking his own. Hot, black and bitter. Perfect. 

“That’s not my coffee. Did they get your order wrong? Here try it. I’m getting a new one.” Mulder watches her approach the counter and sips her coffee. The taste on his tongue is familiar; he ordered Scully’s favorite coffee. Elise comes back, mishap forgotten and smiling, and Mulder thinks he is going to be sick.

He lets Elise take him home with her. She asks if he wants a tea, but he declines. He is restless. He wants to fly to Florida, find Scully, talk to her. Meet her friend. Friend. What does she call Mulder these days, he wonders. Her ex. Ex what? Her friend might ask. Ex-partner, ex-friend, ex-lover. Just an ex. 

“You’re quiet today, Fox.” Elise touches his arm and it feels gentle, comforting. Mulder restrains himself from pushing her away. 

“Nothing to say.”

“Did anything happen? I’m here if you want to talk.”

“You’re not my fucking therapist.” His voice is even, almost indifferent. Elise jumps off the couch as if he’s just hit her. “I’m sorry, Elise.” He says loudly into the empty room. She returns a moment later, her eyes red-rimmed. 

“I’m trying to be your friend, Fox. I don’t want to be your therapist.” She kneels in front of him and takes his face into her hands. Her breath tickles his lips, his nose before her face moves closer and her lips open before she is even there. Friend, it blinks in his mind. 

Mulder closes his eyes as his mind replays Scully’s message. Gone away. With a friend. A friend, a friend, a friend. Elise’s lips land on his, don’t fit right and she moves against him trying to make them fit. Scully, he thinks, squeezing his eyes shut. He can’t do this. He can’t have a friend, a girlfriend, a lover or a meaningless fuck. If he can’t have Scully, he doesn’t want anything else.

'I need you to get better for yourself, Mulder. Not for me. Not out of some misguided sense of guilt. For you.’ Her words, said right before she left him all this time ago, override her answering machine message in his mind.

“Elise, I can’t.” Mulder gently pushes her away. He licks his lips, tastes her, and wishes she were someone else.

“I thought… I thought this, us, was leading somewhere." 

"Elise, listen," 

"Don’t even start, Fox. I get it.”

“No, I don’t think you do. Please listen to me, Elise. I can’t give you this because I am in love with someone else. She is the love of my life. She is everything. She is the reason I forced myself to get out of the house one morning because she told me I had to get better. And you know what, Elise? That’s when I met you. I have been better ever since I’ve met you. I see it now and it’s because of you. You showed me that there is still light in this world filtering through the dark clouds. Last night I spiraled. She called me to tell me she was going on a trip with a friend. I freaked out. I haven’t freaked out in months, Elise. I didn’t have the strength. I didn’t care. I do now. I care.” She sniffs, gives a short laugh, and Mulder chimes in. His own laughter sounds strange, almost hollow in his ears. As they both erupt in even more giggles and laughter, his laugh finds a melody. It doesn’t quite rhyme with hers, but it’s not supposed to, and it works.

“Thank you, Elise. For bringing the light back into my life.” She doesn’t say a word, but touches his lips; a farewell.

WE ARE PROUD


Jack! (even though it’s very unlikely that you will get the chance to read this) you said “make you guys proud again” on one of your latest videos, what are you talking about?! We are and will always be VERY proud of you!! Just look at you and how much you have accomplished!! I mean, you just came back from a tour! See you happy means a lot, more than you can imagine, because you work so hard to make us smile and have a great time, to make us happy everyday and you deserve to do all those things you want and enjoy, to do what make you happy as much as you can!

@therealjacksepticeye

anonymous asked:

Treat with Marius??? He doesn’t get enough love.

Hope you enjoy the tiny treat. 🍬

***

The oil dripped along your stomach, pooling at your navel and creating a pleasant warmth that made you hum in approval. You hadn’t experienced such a wonderful sensation before, and with Marius massaging it along your skin it only added to the heavenly atmosphere. “Where on earth did you get such a thing?”

Marius smiled up at you, lying just by your side, blankets pulled up to his hips. You could see the soft trail of hair that led down to his length, giving him a rather tempting look. You wanted desperately to return the intimate gestures, but with his fingertips dancing along your skin it was hard to deny yourself the pleasure.

“A merchant, from Rome…he spoke of its healing qualities. Though, I judge from the scent it’s merely a perfume.” He chuckled at the last part, still attentive to your needs as you moaned in delight. “Do you like it, my dearest?”

“I adore it, Marius…” You spoke in a breathless gasp, burying your face into the pillow as he continued his blissful assault on your senses.

anonymous asked:

hey!! i just wanted to say i love your art aaa??? whenever i see your shiro's on my dash it always makes me smile! c: i hope you have a good day!!!!!!

aaa……………………………………………!! ahh!!!! im glad i could make u smile… yeehaw. thank you

Everyone has different personalities hidden inside of them. It’s no secret. We are all formed of smaller galaxies, that we take out and put on as coats whenever we see fit. It’s no shame. I have that. We all do. It’s no strangeness.

I let some people see the summer rain in me, the warm coffee in me, the dusty old books, the smiles that feel like warm sunshine on my face. That’s the galaxy full of bright stars you just want to dive in.

I let other people see the hurricane, the wolf blood, the sharp bites and whiskey smirks. That’s the galaxy not many explore, the side you don’t venture into because you want to.

I perhaps have thousands of little universes like these that I bring out whenever I feel like it. I am not a chameleon, I don’t adapt to what’s asked of me. I just like to think that I’m not simple enough to be defined by one single thing.

But every galaxy has its black holes. The one thing you don’t talk about, the one you keep hidden and pretend it doesn’t exist.

I feel like the person I become when I get close to the black hole isn’t who I am. I see it as another person, completely separated from me. I keep her in a locked room. Or perhaps I don’t keep her, perhaps she has caged herself there, in a prison of her own making.

She is sad. She is a weeping sky. She is angry. She is an unmerciful tsunami. She is mad. And she scares me.

I don’t let her out. In fact, I think I have no control over her whatsoever. She comes out whenever she wants and she does what she wants once she’s out. She cries, she yells, she laughs, she scares. She scratches on the walls of my mind as a warning before she erupts. But she doesn’t stay too long. She never does. Maybe she just gets lonely in there, all by herself, and wants to make sure I haven’t forgotten her.

We all have universes, stars, dangerous planets and black holes. Perhaps I am made of books full of raindrops and hunger and feathers and broken wings sparrows. Made of going but never leaving. Of had enough’s and trying too hard. Of cigarette smoke and poison and storms. Of poetry and spilled ink. Of shy mornings and midnight thunders.

But do I ever think that makes me original or special or different?

Not even for a second.

—  writinghurricanes, shades of blue
2

hes made of love and sweetness 💌💞💞💟💞💟💕💟💕💌💕💌💕💕💌💕💕💟💕💟💕💌💕💌💕💌💕💟💕💞💟💕💌💕💌💕

there is a difference between being worried about jackson because he’s feeling down because you don’t want him to be hurt and wanting jackson not to be sad because you usually see him happy and you want him to entertain you and be one dimensional!!!!