i keep looking at the last one and it's killing me

Shall We Test That? (Loki/Thor x reader)

Request: phantomsmenace said: hi bonnie! i was wondering if you could write one where during the events of the first avengers movie where Loki tries to protect you while everything is going on? either romantic or platonic? thank you!! 

“It’s an impressive cage. Not built, I think, for me.”

Loki heard Fury reply to his taunting, but he didn’t hear the words from his mouth.  In fact, he barely knew what he, himself, had just said. He was simply buying time, waiting for the moment when the Hulk would take center stage against a team that was barely his own, and when Loki could be free to make his escape.  He didn’t care at all about anyone on this floating fortress other than one; he only cared about where they were holding you and how he would reach you.  If his connection to Barton was holding, the archer would already be following his orders to retrieve you and keep you safe.

Keep reading

100 Dialogue Prompts: Part 2

We did it amigos. Another list! I am so grateful that you all are sharing your ideas to help inspire others (faith in humanity restored)

  1. “Where is my fucking pudding?!”
  2. “I thought we agreed to never use butter for that reason again…”
  3. “Well if it’s the guy who never shuts up about toilet paper!”
  4. “Honey, did you see my sniper rifle?”
  5. “Oops…”
  6. “God damn it he died. Whatever. Just leave him there.”
  7. “Listen, I know you’re upset, but please put down the baking soda before someone gets hurt.”
  8. “Look, about the monkey…”
  9. “I don’t understand! I only used a finger.”
  10. “It’s not as hard as you think, I promise.”
  11. “well this is what i call hell of a night”
  12. “How could an entire school disappear?”
  13. “What do you mean the brownies are "not quite brownies”?“
  14. "Yes, I understand that its cool, but why does your toaster have wings?” “Well its alive of course. It flies.”
  15. “Don’t turn that on!”
  16. “Wait…I’m also- technically- underage and you’re a stranger…should I be screaming also?”
  17. “I though you meant "literally” metaphorically. “
  18. "Ok so don’t get mad but I might have started a war.”
  19. “Good morning… I see the assassins failed again.”
  20. “You’re a murderer, how are you working at a hospital?”
  21. “That cat just stole my cereal!”
  22. “Did you see that? Please tell me you saw it.”
  23. “Hey, can you stop shooting people right now? We’re trying to sleep.”
  24. “THIS IS WHY WE CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS KEITH!”
  25. “If you think I’m leaving you and your demon eyes and evil horns you’re wrong.”
  26. “What do you mean, this isn’t Earth?”
  27. “Damn it, ____! Not peanuts again!”
  28. “Why did I just press the big red button?”
  29. “So tell me again why this dead body is being sent to Goodwill?”
  30. “Lucifer, I know that we said we would share rent but you never said anything about your brother living with us.”
  31. “God dammit, I’m supposed to be a bat! Why the hell am I a possum, Karen?!”
  32. “Sarah, where’s the dog?” “Up in space?”
  33. “You had only one job and it wasn’t even a difficult task, but seriously, how did you end up like this!?”
  34. “Well I never said I WASN’T going to kill the bartender …”
  35. “I mean, it was only a small eldritch being, so it wasn’t that bad…”
  36. “Hold me back bro!”
  37. “I think there’s a new lifeform evolving in my fridge.”
  38. “WHAT THE FUCK?!”
  39. “Can we have lunch now, or do you still want to continue looking at dead people?”
  40. “I can’t believe you ate my cheese…we’re over”
  41. “Sometimes I wonder why we’re still friends.” “Because I turned you into a cyborg after being shredded by an explosion and you owe me.” “…Fair enough.”
  42. “Well, I didn’t quite expect to wake up pregnant either and yet… here we are, so can you please pass me that can of bread?”
  43. “Ok, I know I said ‘You can throw a hairbrush at them’, but I didn’t actually mean it!”
  44. “When I told you to feed the dog I didn’t expect you to feed him the neighbors cat.”
  45. “Clearly, you’ve never gotten rid of a body before…”
  46. “This sort of thing never happened when I was dating your brother.”
  47. Sometimes, I wonder about you. And then I worry.“
  48. ” Wait, wait, wait, start from the very beginning. how did you manage to set the house on fire with that??“
  49. "For fucks sake, dude, how many times do I have to tell you that that’s not what penises are for?”
  50. “One woman’s terrorist is another woman’s freedom fighter.”
  51. “This isn’t right… the humans shouldn’t be able to move on their own.”
  52. “Why is unicorn blood on our shopping list?”
  53. “Must you unhinge your jaw like that when you eat? It’s disgusting.”
  54. “You’ve violated the law, my trust, and your friend. Tell me, why should I believe anything you say?”
  55. “No, no don’t open the fridge, I need to keep they eyeballs cold.”
  56. “did he break his jaw again by falling down a flight of stairs?” “Passive aggressive much?”
  57. “For the last time, put the declaration of independence back!”
  58. "That isn’t permanent, right?”
  59. “You know, ripping someone’s beating heart right out of their chest with your bare hand looks cool in anime, but irl it’s just unsanitary…”
  60. “She didn’t tell you” “Tell me what” “He’s dead”
  61. “But his dad is an asshole–” “HIS AUTHOR IS AN ASSHOLE”
  62. “You are here and you haven’t tried to kill me yet. You must want something from me.”
  63. “The salesperson made a flying tentacle monster sound a lot more alluring, I swear!”
  64. “Okay…the radiator just growled at me”
  65. “Dude, were you listening to me? Why are you barking?” “I’m not barking. I thought YOU were barking!”
  66. “How did you get that bump on your lip”
  67. “Buddy. You need to chill, and put that knife away before I get out my gun.”
  68. “ ” I dare you to take your shirt off" “ no” “ I doubledare you” “No” “I tripledare you” “ god dammit Steve , im not wearing a Shirt!”“
  69. "Why the fuck are there founding fathers in our living room”
  70. “Girls only say 'I will not dignify that with a response.’ when they’ve done the thing you’ve just accused them of.” “Do you know this, because you’ve done it?” “I will not dignify that with a response.”
  71. “They think we’re terrible but really we’re only mediocre”
  72. “You’d think by now we’d stop bringing death into these things. Look at them, they have anxiety!”
  73. “Ok, first of all asshat, stop touching me. Second, that is never going to work out! Third, stop TOUCHING me.”
  74. “So if I do understand, you’re telling me that you created insects robots. The same one that destroyed the city. ”
  75. “Why is THIS in your fridge? This is some serious contraband.”
  76. “Please tell me you’re joking about marrying the bastard’s son we call Satan.” “ Don’t talk about your mother like that!!”
  77. “Did you explode the microwave again?!”
  78. "Honey where’s the dog?” “Like I said, I’m making a smoothie.”
  79. “Fifteen bucks you can’t hook up with Satan.” “Make it twenty.”
  80. “I don’t know, maybe because he has some semblance of taste?
  81. "What could possibly make you think eating three tons of cheese for the mice in radiation-test labs was okay?!”
  82. “Who actually let the dogs out?”
  83. “Hey, you don’t know how many bodies are buried in my backyard.”
  84. “I told you to kill me.” “I did. Just this morning.” “Well, shit!”
  85. “So… This isn’t the end, is it? I mean I still want to hang out with you at least. Maybe go for another space adventure, hm?”
  86. “I’m sorry, it was the HEAT OF THE MOMENT,”
  87. "Hey, wanna go out for a romantic moonlight killing spree?”
  88. “So, you’re into …..? Huh, I never would’ve known.”
  89. “Did you hear that scream?” “Yes, I’m the one who screamed”
  90. “What are you doing?”
  91. “But really, why would anyone need two dozen armadillos?”
  92. “You can’t keep 'solving’ your problems by going to another dimension!”
  93. “I still can’t believe you assassinated a unicorn.”
  94. “Wait, you have FOUR knives?” “No, no. I have four knives ON me.”
  95. “I’ve killed a man using only a copy of Hamlet and a computer mouse. I am NOT afraid of you!" 
  96. "What the hell are those?”
  97. “Are you sure you’re not an arsonist?”
  98. “I know, right? You’d suspect any of them of secretly being an alien, but not…”
  99. “Why didn’t you stop?”
  100. “So, start explaining why there are dozens of puppies in my guest room.”

Let’s make another list. Part 3! Leave a reply and don’t forget the double quotes “”. I want to give everyone a chance to contribute to our community. So as always, one prompt per amigo. Dankje! 

Captain

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 3,610

Request: OMG I’m so happy to see that the requests are open again! I want to say that I LOVE your writing and I was wondering if you could do a Steve x reader smut where they have a strained relationship but then they have to share a bed during an undercover mission and that leads to sex, possibly with rough/Dom!Steve after all the tension (maybe they had to pretend they were a couple for the mission or something). Feel free to change this if you want I trust your writing genius :)

Warnings: Smut, Dom!Steve, hair pulling, captain kink, dirty talk, orgasm denial, light spanking, light choking, oral sex, swearing, Steve is a little tease

Author’s Note: I’d like to again dedicate this one to @scarlets-wanda, who tried to sneak the fact that it was her birthday last week past me! So in return, I wrote this for her. Enjoy.

Originally posted by ohevansmycaptain


Keep reading

he’s the beauty; she’s the beast

so i’m sure the remake of a timeless classic that disney is about to roll out is going to be great and all

but here’s another way we could do things:

he’s the beauty

she’s the beast

for a movie who’s central theme is inner beauty, it doesn’t really do anything to support that, you know? so how about this: adam, our prince turned beast, isn’t an inhospitable monster. because this back story doesn’t make any sense – why is the young prince of this land alone, in a castle, only to be caught unaware by a witch?

so how about this – this is pseudo france, right, so these royals do what their real life counterparts did. they flee. the cruel, greedy king and queen flee and leave their young son behind with their staff. their son who is kind and soft hearted and totally unfit to rule any kingdom (never mind that they’re literally running away from their own people). not only that – they trade their son for their freedom, trade their kingdom for their freedom. to the witch.

so the witch comes, and she doesn’t disguise herself as a crone, goes to him looking as lovely and young as her magic keeps her. but our prince adam has a talent, one many cast-aside, neglected children have developed – the ability to see people for who they really are, and he knows this is no kind young woman in need of his help. he refuses to let her in – and there’s this little twist to the magic, that she can only enter the palace grounds and claim her prize if she’s welcomed in a as a guest, and he, the young master of this castle, won’t let her in.

Keep reading

{PART 27} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; As death enters the room to claim a soul; so does life. Who shall live and who shall die - as you begin to wonder…is this really the end?

“And as he looked upon her face amidst the madness, he saw everything he held close depart his world; while she slipped into the next”

|| Warning: This chapter contains mentions of blood and some scenes that readers may find upsetting ||

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time)

{Part 1} // {Part 26} {Part 27} {Part 28}

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I'm curious about what procedures you think need to change in the livestock industry?

Practically, or philosophically? There is so much that can be talked about in this field

From a practical standpoint, there are a number of areas where current livestock practices are far from ideal. Farming has a huge history behind it, and many of these practices are ingrained and so difficult to change.

Before I go through the list, I should preface that if you’re not comfortable with the fact that farmed animals die for human benefit, if you just want all farms to stop using animals, then you’re not going to find this list satisfactory. If you’re fundamentally uncomfortable with livestock industries, and you haven’t already questioned why you consume the products it produces or what your alternatives are, then it might be worthwhile.

For now, these industries are not going anywhere. They’re certainly not perfect but we could improve them. Regardless of whether you personally believe all these industries should be ‘just stopped’ you have to agree that will not happen overnight, and that other welfare improvements could happen today.

  • Pain relief being more widely used. There has historically been an aversion to using pain relief medication in livestock due to expense, drug residues and the lack of products made for and tested in the species. This is beginning to change so there are not more options for pain relief at castration and mulesing , for example, but this needs to be more widely used. Another hurdle to this is that they are prescription products, and in order for a veterinarian to prescribe them they must have been out to that farm within the last year and be familiar with their set up and stock. Not every farm will call out a veterinarian on a regular basis.
  • Minimize transport time. Transport, whether by road, train, boat or plane, is incredibly stressful for livestock of all kinds. We can measure their physiological stress, so this is definitely not just anthropomorphism. Livestock are more stressed in transport than they are by witnessing death, which is the opposite to what many people would think. 
  • On-farm slaughter and refrigerated transport. Following on from the previous point, we have the technology to transport chilled carcasses. Performing slaughter on farm removes or eliminates a large percentage of the transport an individual animal needs to be exposed to, and will improve their welfare. Animals don’t perceive death the same way we do, having a mini abattoir at the farm entrance isn’t going to bother them.
  • Using genetics instead of procedures. It astounds me in this modern day that we still have breeders of hereford cattle that breed the horned version, and then de-horn the calves, instead of selecting stock with the polled (no horns) trait. If you want horns then fine, but if you’re going to cut/burn/cauterize them off anyway when why not remove them genetically? The polled gene exists! Similarly there are a small number of merino sheep with a ‘bare breech’ trait, which don’t need mulesing. It would be ideal to spread this trait through the Australian sheep population, but with millions and millions of sheep and a ram only about to impregnate about 60 a month, that will take time.
  • Enrichment. Toys. Something for animals to play with, to investigate, to do. This has been historically neglected for a long time because originally animals weren’t though to have souls, or to be thinking, feeling entities. We know differently now. Enrichment only improves the lives of these animals, and often reduces unwanted or destructive behavior, like piglets biting off each others tails.
  • Dam-neonate bonding in certain industries should be reconsidered. In some situations, the dairy industry in particular, neonates may be taken from their mothers within 24 hours to reduce disease transmission in eradication of certain diseases, like Johnes disease, but in other situations it’s because for some mind boggling reason it is more cost efficient for a farm to sell the mother’s milk and feed the neonate on milk replacer.  
  • In a similar vein, giving sows enough space to nurse their litter would be great. They’re kept in sow stalls (basically a cage that they can stand up or lie down in that the piglets can run through) so that they don’t squash their piglets and kill them. That’s great and all, except you can accomplish the same thing by giving the sow more space to turn around it and slopes on the wall of the pen.

So, the important question I hope you’re asking is why don’t we do these things already?

There are lots and lots of reasons someone could grab, but the short (and I dare say more honest) reason is this: Money.

Granting an animal more space costs you money because it reduces the number of animals you can stock in your space. Using more pain relief medication costs you money. Calling out a vet costs you money. Providing enrichment costs you various amounts of money. On-farm slaughter and refrigerated transport is more expensive than the current system.

So if this is all about money, is it the fault of greedy farmers? Well, generally no.

Most farmers actually like the species of animal they work with. And most of them, especially with recent droughts, the current political climate and monopolization of the companies that buy their products, are not making big buckets of cash. More and more farms are selling up and small producers are not keeping up.

They are under constant pressure to lower the prices of their animal products because there’s only a few big buyers, and right now it’s the buyers that dictate what price they’re willing to pay. Because these animal products are perishable, you can’t save them for a rainy day if you don’t sell them, and these buyers are big enough, they can hold out and only pay what they want to pay. This severe downward pressure means farmers get paid progressively less, and these companies make more profits while claiming it’s good for consumers.

^ Look familiar?

So we get cheaper food, the company makes more profit, and the individual farms get screwed.

Especially with milk, there was a huge crisis recently where one of the big milk buyers suddenly declared it had been overpaying dairies, and that not only was it now going to pay them much less for the season (on contract mind you), but that all their dairies now owed them thousands of dollars. After years of downward price pressure on their product many farms could not, and can not, afford this. You can get an overview here.

The point I’m trying to get to is that if these industries are gong to improve, then we need to value the individual animal and its experience of life more than we currently do. 

If we value the experiences of the individual animal, and consequently put our money where our mouth is when it comes to their products, then there should be both motivation and financial ability to improve their lives. We could progress from mere ‘prevention of cruelty’ and minimum standards towards animal welfare and good welfare states.

Changing consumer patterns is probably the only way to do this, and it’s quite hard when you’re already paycheck to paycheck, but a in depth rant/discussion about politics/policy/economics etc is beyond my scope, though I would happily add veterinary and industry specific detail to a discussion if someone wants to tackle that side of it.

Bitty’s Southern

Bitty is a southern boy and as a southern girl let me tell you there are things he does that make the rest of SMH go “Ummm….what?” 

  • He says stuff that makes literal ZERO sense to the rest of the team. Mostly southern phrases etc. LIKE, “That boy is about of useless as tits on a bull.” or  if it’s raining but the sun is out Bits just says, “Devil must be beatin’ his wife.”  Everyone is confused as shit.
  • “Oh my goodness I want Chick-fil-a. BUT IT’S SUNDAY.”
  • Holster going,” Hey Bits can you hand me a coke?” and Bitty responding with, “Sure, which kind do you want? We’ve got sprite, mtn dew, dr. pepper…” BC in the south every soda is a coke.
  • “Y’all know what I miss the most about Georgia? Cheerwine. And Duke’s Mayo. You northerners keep using that hellman’s stuff or miracle whip and let me tell you. IT. IS .NOT. MAYONNAISE.”
  • “IT’S SO HOT! Summer is the WORST” “Ransom, It’s like, 70 degrees. It gets up to like 115+ in Georgia. And it’s not even humid! You hush your mouth.”
  • The first time Bitty goes to Stop & Shop with one of the guys from SMH he tells them to grab a buggy on their way in and said member stares at him for a second, “What’s a buggy?” “Oh for goodness sake. A shopping cart! We need a shopping cart!”
  • Bitty’s drunk at a kegster when he suddenly shouts, “WHO WANTS TO PLAY CORNHOLE?!” 
  • It’s New Years so of course Bitty’s making black eyed peas, collards, cornbread, ham, and a pineapple upside down cake. “It’s for luck.”
  • Bitty will be checking Facebook and be like, “Oh bless his heart.” Chowder notices him fretting over the phone so he asks what’s up “Oh it’s just one of my friend from high school’s dad.” and Chowder, being the precious person that he is, responds with, “Oh no. What happened? Is he ok?” Bitty just shakes his head, “He’s done went and fell out of the deer stand. Again. Broke his arm and bruised his pride. You think he would’ve learned his lesson after the same thing happened last huntin’ season”
  • Jack’s all dressed up in a suit or something, he has a meeting with the Falcs, “What are you all gussied up for?”
  • “Look at what all I got up at the outlet mall!!”
  • Rans/Holster/Bitty share a bathroom so I reckon this has happened at least once: “Neither of y’all go in the bathroom! I’m fixin’ to shower”  to which Holster responds, “What was that Bits? What are you fixing?” Bitty hollers from his room, arm full of clothes, “I’m fixin’ to shower!” Ransom chimes in, “I didn’t know the shower was broken!” At this point Bitty is getting frustrated,“Oh for the love of Pete! You Yankees.” He speaks slowly and pronounces each word carefully, “I am going to go take a shower so please do not go and hog the bathroom.”
  • “So I was talking to Momma and APPARENTLY Mrs. Jones, the one that lives down the road, was rude as all get out.” “Really? What’d she do?” Bitty just throws his hands up, “Momma and Coach were drivin’ back to the house and Mrs. Jones was driving in the opposite direction so of course Momma waves at her. AND SHE DIDN’T WAVE BACK.”
  • I know for a FACT that at some point Bits makes a pitcher of sweet tea, puts it in the fridge, and the boys/Lardo finds it. “What’s this?” “Oh, it’s just some tea. You want some?” So Bitty pours them a glass and approximately 2 seconds later “WHAT IS THIS? IT’S LIKE SYRUP! Bits this isn’t tea! It’s diabetes in a cup!”
  • “Just rub some bacon grease on it.”
  • “Don’t you dare pour that coffee out! I can use it for gravy!”
  • “You know what food I miss? Fried pickles. No, wait, HUSHPUPPIES. I’d kill for some right now.”
{PART 22} I Won’t Stop You (M) // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; You hear the great history of Vampires as you have never heard it before. But as the door into Jungkook’s world is opened wide for you - many more open in turn. Jungkook finds himself overwhelmed with anger - and that anger turns into something you least expected.

“His love and protection were both her weapon and shield. She didn’t belong or willingly surrender to anyone; anyone that was, except him.”

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time) 

{Part 1} // {Part 21} {Part 22} {Part 23}

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hey! If you're still taking prompts, could you write about neil and Andrew having a conversation about Neil's past? Like the stuff he had to do to survive and the stuff he went through with the worlds shittiest parents? Also I'm pretty sure neil has killed people like it makes complete sense so maybe andreil talking about that?

There’s a band of pale blue light nipping at the tops of the trees and sharpening the silhouettes of the houses, but everything else is fresh and dark. Andrew smokes with the pack clenched in his fist, the cherry of the cigarette winking at the street lamps winking at the orange moon.

Their front porch isn’t like the rush of the rooftop, but he can get that same jitter of fear from Neil nowadays, and he’s more portable. He’d left him knotted in the bedsheets an hour ago, and knowing he’s inside somewhere at his back is burning him up. Andrew inhales and focuses on the exhale, the way the smoke still tries to hurt him when it should’ve given up. He likes that nicotine doesn’t leave him alone.

Neil slips out the front door and lets the screen door clatter, and Andrew knows that he’s upset before he sits down two steps below Andrew, holding his own head.

He doesn’t ask; just smokes fervently. The moon bobs its head sympathetically, wind catches the smoke and breaks it over Neil’s head like water on rocks.

It occurs to Andrew that Neil isn’t going to start this conversation, because he likes to think things through on his own, solve them wrong, and tell Andrew about his mistakes later. He’s insufferably convinced of his own problem-solving abilities, then obsessed with the mechanism of his own missteps.

“What?” Andrew asks impatiently. He flicks ash from his cigarette and holds it out in front of Neil’s face. Neil sidles through his own tangled thinking for long enough to glance up. He leans forward and sucks the smoke from between Andrew’s fingers.

When he looks away, gusting smoke from his open mouth, he says, “Matt called. We fought.”

You fought,” Andrew guesses.

Neil looks agitated, blue in the choked light, eyes black and furious. “He was being unfair. He keeps trying to tell me what’s right or wrong lately, because he thinks I’ve been— been deprived, like my experiences were outside of humanity, or morality, and it’s so— condescending.”

“You’re only realizing this now? All of the foxes are condescending. It is the only way they can avoid their own failure.”

“This was different,” Neil says, shaking his head. “I can tell when they’re saying things because they want to see my reaction, and this wasn’t that. He meant what he was saying.”

“And what was that?”

Neil goes gagged silent. He shifts backwards up to Andrew’s stair without looking at him, settling into the groove worn into the wood.

“That killing someone makes you a monster. That murder is the worst thing you can do to a person.”

Keep reading

{PART 21} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; Just when you thought your night couldn’t possibly become any more heartbreaking; the man you thought you knew turns out to be something you had only ever considered to exist within the realms of nightmares and folklore.

“Perhaps, he didn’t want to be understood, so much as he wanted to be loved. His truth would set her free, but the question remained; would she stay?”

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time)

{Part 1} // {Part 20} {Part 21} {Part 22}

Keep reading

two rotten apples [m]

credit: x.

❛❛we’re next-door neighbors and have hated each other since middle school but now we’re going to the same university how can we avoid the other person like the plague so there isn’t a crime scene— what do you mean you promised my mom you would keep an eye on me???? you fucking planned this❜❜ AU

COUNT → 16.053

GENRE → smut | eventual angst

PAIRING → jungkook | reader

WARNINGS → dom and sub tones | spanking | hair pulling | praising | explicit language | female masturbation | graphic oral sex | penetration

LINKS → 1 | 2COMING SOON


There was always that one person at parties—that one person who hid in a bathtub somewhere so they didn’t have to contribute to society’s norms of choking on their own vomit and passing out cuddling a pink garden gnome.

Or maybe that was just you.

Then again, it wasn’t just any party you were hiding in a bathtub at—it wasn’t some rager that had frat boys downstairs chugging so much alcohol that their livers probably looked like fucking dried out asparagus—it was your high school graduation party. And maybe you’d attended only the lamest graduation parties in your eighteen years of life, but there was no alcohol here—only fruit punch. Yet, there you were, still hiding in a bathtub for some fucking reason with a piece of chocolate cake balanced in your lap.

You should probably reiterate that it was your party, which makes things worse since normally you don’t hide in a bathtub when you’re the guest of honor.

Normally—but this was not a normal circumstance.

Keep reading

The Ouroboros

I’ve been pondering what Feyre saw in the Ouroboros Mirror. What parts of herself did the Mirror drag up from the darkest depths of her soul and make her face? What was Feyre forced to come to terms with in order to save Prythian, her friends, her family, and court? What did she learn to love? And what does the beast have to do with anything? 

I think Feyre had more to come to terms with than anyone else in Prythian. Yet she overcame it. She decided not to let her own soul destroy her. 

I believe she had to watch her younger self wring the neck of a tiny rabbit as it screamed in pain—her first kill. Feyre watched from the snow-shrouded trees as an ash arrow imbedded itself in the side of large wolf, an unprovoked shot of pure hatred. The Ouroboros would have shown in graphic detail everything that occurred UtM—the dancing and drinking that made her feel filthy, the unsolved riddled that made her relive her shortcomings, and the unbearable murder of two innocent fae. The families of those two innocent souls as they raged and mourned and crumpled in weary misery. They had come so close to freedom, but the price to pay had been their loved one. Feyre had taken it from them. 

The Mirror would have swirled with images and flashes of Tamlin, Lucien, Elain, Nesta…all those Feyre felt she had betrayed or let down in some way, whether it was deserved or not. Her conversations with Ianthe as she ignorantly shared every detail about her human family and their estate, then the moment her sisters stumbled through the door in Hybern, and were shoved into the Cauldron, Made into the very thing they hate. And somehow, after all this and so so much more, Feyre came to acceptance. But I think, more than all the ways she hurt those around her, or they hurt her in turn, all the blood and vomit and nightmares…more than any of that, Feyre had to learn to love the beast that stared back

I was not alone.

Crawling down the snow-kissed wall, a massive beast of claws and scales and fur and shredding teeth inched toward the floor. Toward me.

Its enormous paws were near-silent on the floor, the fur on them a blend of black and gold. Not a beast designed to hunt in these mountains. Certainly not with the ridge of dark scales down its back. And the large, shining eyes—.

I didn’t have time to remark on those blue-grey eyes as the beast pounced. 

Where I had been standing … the beast now sat, scaled tail idly swishing through the snow.

Watching me.

Not—not watching.

Gazing back at me. My reflection.

Of what lurked beneath my skin.

My knife clattered to the stones and snow. And I looked into the mirror. (pg. 605-6) 

“What did you see?”

“Myself. I saw myself.” (pg. 617-18) 

Maas gives us a short, but very revealing description of the beast—Feyre’s beast

The significance of gold and black fur? Throughout ACOTAR and MAF, Feyre religiously rejected any power that related to Tamlin, namely the ability to shift into animal form. She feared the claws that poked against her skin. She hated them. Until she realized they weren’t Tamlin’s claws, they were her own. They were talons. And if she could make talons, she could make wings. Feyre’s beast form having a mixture of black and golden fur signifies that Tamlin is a part of her, and always will be. She once loved him, so much so that she killed for him, died for him. A love like that leaves a permanent imprint on a soul, even if the love itself doesn’t last forever. Feyre had to learn to love the part of her soul that had been touched and permanently changed by Tamlin. 

The scales could signify several things. Of course Summer comes to mind. Feyre obviously has an affinity for the Summer magic that flows through her veins. It came easily to her—more easily than any other High Lord’s power. The scales might represent the bond formed between Tarquin and Feyre while she visited Summer. Regardless of the blood rubies, now rescinded, the High Lord of Summer and High Lady of Night shared a unique understanding of one another, and a common passion to spread equality between the High Fae and lesser faeries (and even humans) to all courts and territories. 

The scales might also be equivalent to the thorns Feyre feels she has and once used to describe herself to Tamlin—the spiny ridge running down the beasts’ back and tail representing her prickly side. This is an annoying feature most of us have, and a part we all hate, but must accept responsibility for. 

But perhaps the mostly likely possibility is that the scales and ridges represent Feyre’s armor (Illyrian armor is scaled). We know it to be thick. In ACOMAF, Rhysand worked for months to attempt to delve through the layers and layers of Feyre’s armor in the form of depression, anger, bitterness, and solitude. It is likely that Feyre had to learn to love that armor, even if she wished it had been stronger, or less harmful to those around her, the way it hurt Rhys after the Court of Nightmares scene in ACOMAF, and Mor at the camp in ACOWAR. While gazing at herself in the Mirror, Feyre had to learn to bear her armor proudly and honorably, to use it to strategically protect herself, and not harm or keep out those who love her, fight for her. 

The massive, flesh-shredding teeth—Feyre’s ability and willingness to kill and murder. Whether for food to avoid starvation, killing for no other reason than pure, undiluted hatred, or the murder of innocents to save the one she loved, Feyre has a lot of blood on her hands. And as we learned through her nightmares and admittance to Cassian…Feyre feels that blood should be her own. She has fangs, and she’s used them—over and over again. Feyre suffered soul-deep from the pain she felt she brought upon others. But when the Mirror showed her those glistening teeth and impressive maw, Feyre had to accept that pain and torment—and then turn it against her enemies. Not fangs to harm the innocent, but rather to protect them, to fight for them. To fight against Hybern and the injustices of the world. To protect her sisters and those like them. To care for the weak and weary and afraid. 

I have been struck each time I’ve read these scenes—on a personal level. To think about facing my own beast…what would it look like? How would I react as it sat and laid my very soul bare? Could I even look into my own eyes as they gazed back in judgement? Could I learn to love every part of myself as Feyre did? Would I be able to face my inner most demons? Honestly, I don’t know. But I think we could all benefit from pondering this passage a bit more.

Penny for your thoughts.

The entirety of New York City’s downworlder population know or know of Magnus Bane. The High Warlock of Brooklyn is not a title left behind some trash can in an alley of Queens, it is flaunted at the fanciest parties in Brooklyn and Upper East Side.

And so it really comes as no surprise that when he starts dating a shadowhunter, Alec Lightwood’s name is spread about the same way. It is whispered in vampire dens, gossiped about in the Hunter’s Moon and Pandemonium is always on alert for any shadowhunters in its midst.

He’s the Lightwood’s son… He left his bride-to-be at the altar… He defied the Clave for a warlock… The Wolves almost killed his parabatai…

Seelies listen to the trees, wolves listen to the scattered word on the street, vampires all hear the new fledgling’s complaints (“he’s such an ass” or “sometimes I don’t get what Magnus sees in him” and “he does seem like a knight in shining armour, though”) and warlocks only have to look at Magnus’ affectionate expression whenever Alec’s name pops up in conversation to know he is something special.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hi! Could you write something about soulmates. Like Betty having an abusive boyfriend and all the bruises and cuts show up on Jughead. And there is soulmates in the world so it's not unusual, but Jughead keeps getting injuries from Betty and starts writing on his arm to her and she rights back to him and can you continue this please thank you.

I lovveee these soulmate aus!
****

“Dude what the hell is that?”

Jughead looked up, confused by the sharp and disgruntled tone of his red headed best friend.

“What’s what?” He raised a confused brow, his eyes scanning his surroundings, searching for something off.

Archie reached for him, pulling Jugheads tanned arm up and into the air, shoving his wrist into his face

“This! Dude if your dad is beating on you again, you can tell me. You know you’re always welcome back at my place, my dad…”

Archie’s voice faded away as Jughead stared at the dark purple and blue bruises littering his arm, fingerprints left nasty circle shapes and some were faded and yellow, they’d clearly been there for a long time. How was that possible? There was no way he wouldn’t have noticed them and he couldn’t remember banging into someone , not to mention he was absolutely positive no one had left those marks on his body, it really wasn’t possible, unless..

“They’re not mine” he whispered, more to himself than anything, his eyes still glued to his arm.

“What are you talking about? Of course they’re yours, bruises don’t just show up, I mean it’s not like.. oh…” Archie trailed off finally understanding

It was Jugheads soulmate.

In life when you’re looking for the one you’re meant to be with, pieces of them become pieces of you. It happens suddenly but there’s no way to know when you’ll meet them. It had happened with Archie last year one day the football player came to school, his lips bright red and clearly made up, Jughead had nearly wet himself, he had laughed so hard as the boy desperately wiped at his mouth, smearing lipstick down his arm.

“It’s my soulmate! Clearly she likes wearing stupid ass lipstick”

Two days later he had met Veronica Lodge at the Riverdale mall, pearls on her neck and deep purple lipstick on her lips plus the addition of two thick black smudges under her eyes, eerily similar to the eye chalk Archie wore to football practice everyday.They had been inseparable ever since.

He watched in amazement as another bruise formed right before his eyes, a deep red welt, similar to the belt lashings he used to get when his father was an alcoholic. It didn’t hurt Jughead physically but the ache in his chest at his “soulmate” having to go through this, made him feel positively violent. Picking his bag up and walking out Archie’s front door, he gripped the bruises on his arm, willing them to stop, wishing he could make them stop for her, she didn’t deserve this, no one did. It was dark by the time he got to the trailer park, his mood volatile and nasty, his father was working on some bike in the front yard and he waved at his son. Jughead stormed past the older man and locked himself in his room, ripping the jeans from his body he stood in the mirror observing his body, sure enough he was covered in the painless bruises.

His eyes filled with tears and he was surprised when he couldn’t hold them back, he hadn’t cried since he was eight years old and his mother left. The door to his bedroom opened slowly and his father stepped in, eyes going wide at his sons bruised body before understanding took over, F.P jones sat on the edge of the bed and held his son as he cried helplessly.

“There’s nothing I can do.” He sniffled
“I can’t help her, I don’t even know her but I can feel her dad” he looked at the bruises once again, his fists clenching “I want to kill whoever did this.” He whispered.

F.P nodded
“I know you do, but right now you can only do so much. So do what you do best.” He rose from the bed, walking over to Jughead desk and handing him a pen

“Write”

With that he shot his son a knowing smile and slowly closed the door.

Jughead lifted the pen too his arm and took a deep breath.
***

Betty threw herself on her bed, her body aching from the beating she had just taken. She had tried to break up with Chuck again, she had tried so many times but each time it had ended exactly the same, Betty laying bloody on the floor begging for the angry boys forgiveness.

She rested her face on the soft silk pillowcase and bit her tongue, she had learned not to cry out, never let anyone see the bruises, be quiet Betty Cooper. Be perfect.

She couldn’t do it anymore, she was tired, so damn tired of being perfect. She wanted to go away, to sleep, sleep forever.

She reached into her nightstand and pulled out the tube of concealer, lifting the soft white sweater , fully prepared to cover up the bruises she knew would be visible in cheerleading practice tommorow, what she didn’t expect to see was the messy scrawl scribbled across her bruises

“You’re so much stronger than they are. You’re stronger than all of that white noise. You’re going to be okay, don’t let go. JJ”

Tears pricked her eyes. Her soulmate. She had one. she had gone so long believing she would never have one, destined to be passed around with the other mate less teenagers. She gripped her arm to her chest and let her tears fall freely, he was there and he could feel her, feel her pain. She wasn’t alone anymore.

Grabbing the purple gel pen off of her desk, she began writing back.

***

Jughead stared tirelessly at his arm, he didn’t even know if she was getting his messages, this could all be pointless, suddenly though, his arms were filled with distinctly feminine cursive in sparkly ink.

“Thank you JJ, it’s nice to meet my soulmate . Im sorry it had to be under such horrible circumstances. I’m Betty Cooper”

Betty Cooper? He knew that name, had heard Archie mention it a few times, but from where? He didn’t have time to think about that, ripping up his sleeve even higher he began writing again.

“It’s good to meet you in any way, although I do wish it wasn’t like this as well. Are you okay?”

He smiled when the reply was almost instant

“I’m okay, much better now that I know you’re here.”

They spent all night writing back and forth, Jugheads heart felt lighter that morning at school, and it was a fairly noticeable difference.
Archie of course made a huge deal out of it and Jughead found himself rolling his eyes at lunch when the football player went on about how awesome double dates would be from now on.

“Speaking of going out, i promised Ronnie, I’d meet her at central point park for that concert tonight, shes bringing her friend who’s going through a shitty breakup, i figured you could come along be like a fourth wheel. I promise you can write to your soulmate alllll night if you want.” Archie teased.

Jughead rolled his eyes, reluctantly agreeing.

***

Betty was sore that morning but she couldn’t keep the smile off of her face, her soulmate was amazing, he loved writing and reading and they shared similar tastes in movies and he made her laugh like no one else.

“So you’ll come?” Veronica asked, snapping Betty out of her thoughts and pulling her gaze away from the faded words on her arms

“Hmm? Yeah sure, of course.” She answered,dazed.

“Alright love bird, we’re gonna enjoy ourselves tonight at the concert. Maybe you can find some lyrics to write to lover boy” Veronica smiled lovingly at her best friend, excited to see the blonde looking genuinely happy for the first time in ages.

“Maybe” Betty grinned.

***
That night came by fast and Betty took one last look at the words she had just written JJ

“Gotta go Romeo, talk to you later?”

She smiled when the familiar handwriting appeared

“You got it Juliet.”

Betty and Veronica stepped from the car, Betty’s hand tucked in Veronica’s as they navigated the grassy area

“Ronnie! We don’t have to run, I’m sure we wont miss him, that bright red hair is kind of hard not to spot.” She giggled.

Veronica waved her eyebrows suggestively
“I happen to like redheads.”

Betty laughed
“I know, I was there when you started dating Chery Blossom last year.” Betty rolled her eyes

“I don’t discriminate. Love is love and all that” she grinned.

“Speaking of love.”

Both the girls whipped around at the familiar voice and Veronica instantly ran into her boyfriends arms

“Archiekins!”

Archie laughed squeezing his girlfriend,

“Jughead this is Veronica’s best friend, Betty Cooper meet Jughead Jones.”

Jughead nearly dropped the novel he had gripped in his hands as he looked at the beautiful blonde with the bright green eyes and matching blue bruise on her chin, she was even more beautiful than he could have imagined, the very definition of a masterpiece.

“JJ” she whispered, her eyes scanning his and landing on his arms. She was smiling nervously, her fingers fidgeting as she slowly stood in place.

Jughead couldn’t keep the grin off of his face
“ hey there Juliet” he whispered, pulling his sleeves up as she gently rested her fingers on his inkstained arms.

She let out a breathy giggle and before he knew it she was falling into his arms, his own strong arms coming to wrap around her body, covering her and protecting her, now that he found her he was never letting her go.

She looked into his eyes and let the tears fall from hers

“I’ve been waiting for you Jughead Jones.”

He laughed, dropping a kiss to her lips
“You have no idea Betty Cooper”

lurkeymclurker  asked:

What do you think it'd be like if one of the Rogue One members had survived? How would that effect the original trilogy and how would they cope with everything?

Cassian didn’t talk, at first. There didn’t seem anything else to say.

.

Mothma came at some point. Cassian woke up and she was at his bedside, sitting ramrod-straight, so very tall and white, even moreso washed out by the lights of the medbay. (She made him think of the columns on Imenthe—natural salt deposits like spires, like teeth ringing the great and violent sea. He killed a man there, got blood on all that white, white salt. And afterward he had sat in the sand, watched the tide come in and wash it all away.

Mon Mothma always made him think of Imenthe.)

She was studying his face now, and Cassian raised his eyebrows at her. She smiled a little. “Ah, Captain. I—have spent the last half-hour trying to decide what I would say.” 

She was quiet a moment, then the smile turned rueful. “I’m still not certain whether there is anything I could say.”

Cassian snorted, shut his eyes again. After a moment, he felt a very cool hand pressed to his forehead. “Cassian,” Mothma said, and there was something almost human in her voice, a thing like kindness. “Cassian, you saved us. How will we ever repay you?”

The meddroid had been very clear, he wasn’t supposed to move unassisted. Cassian risked it to turn his head away, screwing his eyes so tightly shut that he could see those little floating stars flare to life behind his eyelids.

Mothma drew her hand away. 

He heard her stand, the chair scraping a little as she did. “Bodhi Rook was released from bacta suspension last night,” she said, and her voice was cool again, impersonal. “He is expected to make a full recovery. The technicians are still working to fully recover K-2SO’s backup, but…I believe this means you were more than just successful in your mission, Captain. You brought everyone home.

“I thought you might be interested to know,” Mothma added after a moment. Her boots made a sharp, clipped noise on the stone floor, and then she was gone. 

Cassian went back to sleep.

.

(He only vaguely remembers what happened after Scarif. The adrenaline wore away quickly after Krennic was dead, and in its place came a rising pain, pain like the firestorm that engulfed Jedha. By the time they stumbled from the lifttube, Jyn was the only thing holding him upright; Jyn was telling him, cassian cassian c’mon, just a little farther, okay? just a little—it’ll be over soon, you can rest, I’ll let you rest, just—just—

But the rest is a scattered succession of images, half-memories: the sound of a ship’s engine overhead, and Jyn shouting here, we’re here!, a heavy weight on Cassian’s chest and screams he couldn’t make out (was that him screaming?) too much pain—he thinks he passed out once or twice; someone asking for his medical history and Cassian slurring, ask kaytoo, he keeps my records, before remembering—

I can’t feel my legs, he said at one point, he remembers that. Jyn’s face swimming into his vision, the red of blood streaked across her cheek. I can’t…that’s not good, is it, if I can’t…

Flickering lights, medical jargon he couldn’t understand. Someone saying spine, and spine again. (Every time he shut his eyes he could feel himself falling again, the whip-bang of the metal landing—) His spine again. Jyn’s voice, high and tight, saying yes, okay, yes. do whatever you have to.

When he woke up in the medbay on Yavin, he was alone.)

.

Cassian’s dreams were confused, a muddled haze of dead sentients clawing at his skin and his mother’s face—out of focus, distant and cold as a moon; he barely remembered enough of her to dream it anymore—and then suddenly, a cool pressure on his mind, rippling outwards. He was standing at the edge of a vast ocean, breathing in the cold tang of salt and the water. 

It was quiet.

He exhaled, and then he was lying in the medbay, and the sound of waves beating against the shore was just the thrum of blood in his ears.

Keep reading

Who owns me?

Bucky x reader

Notes: mentions of past trauma, violence, past torture/brainwashing, fluff, smut, discovery of past self.  

Summary: when Bucky’s in hiding in Romania, he finds a girl he’s sure needs his protection. He doesn’t remember who gave him the mission; but he’s so sure some one gave it to him. After setting it all up, he notices that there’s more to this girl than meets the eye. She might need him watching over her more than he initially thought. 

(This takes place after TWS and before CW)

A/N: Hi guys! It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything; I just had to get something out there. Part two will be here soon, there might be more parts after that, because I have an open ending atm. (I do love me some open endings now and then)

Originally posted by caps-bucky

He doesn’t know who she is. He doesn’t know why she’s important, but she is. He knows the only thing that matters is that she’s safe. It’s his mission to protect her from all harm, to make sure she lives her life however she wants, without any disturbance. Often he tries to remember who it was that gave him this mission; maybe it was Pierce, maybe Rumlow, which would indirectly mean it’d have been Pierce. Or maybe it was the Captain. The last time he saw the Captain was about a year ago, before he ran to try and get all of these things floating around in his mind in order. He’d listen to the Captain. He used to, he thinks. Before his commander was Pierce; even before it was Karpov. He sometimes imagines that the Captain was good to him, and the others.. Were there others? He thinks so.

Keep reading

No Strings (VII)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jimin

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 5,166

Summary: It started off as such a simple question. How to know if you’re bad in bed? Of course when you asked, you didn’t imagine Jimin would actually answer.

Originally posted by mayfifolle

Keep reading

AriA’s File

Okay, what is the deal with Aria’s file? What on earth could be her secret? A secret that would put EZRA in jail, and make him pick Nicole over her?

AD says the following to Aria:

“Jessica DiLaurentis kept excellent records. If Ezra knew what was in your file he would definitely choose Nicole, and she would be visiting him in jail.”


Why would something …

  • in ARIAs file 
  • put EZRA in jail 
  • AND have him pick Nicole

???????????

One thing we know for sure is it had to be something that happened BEFORE Jessica’s murder, since it is something Jessica found out.

This can be interpreted in two ways:

  1. Jessica DiLaurentis found something incriminating about Ezra that Aria has kept a secret. But…. why would Ezra hate Aria because of it? Why would Ezra blame Aria if this came out? What is she willing to keep secret about Ezra that she would go against her best friends for? Does Aria know a secret about Ezra that if it came out would put him in jail? Okay, there are a few possibilities here, but why would it make Ezra choose Nicole over Aria? Thats the part I just dont understand. Ezra could be upset that Jessica found out something about him, but why would it make him give up his love for Aria??? 
  2. Jessica found out something about Aria that would cause Ezra to hate her and to do something that would put him in jail….Is this signifying that Ezra would kill Aria if he found out this secret?

I feel like the following photo is significant. The 4 glasses represent the four main girls, Spencer, Hanna, Aria & Emily. 

By shattering a glass, it is a symbol that she is no longer one of them, that she is going against the group to protect whatever is in her file.

The girls have always stuck together, so it has to be something HUGE if she is willing to go over to the dArk side. 

(Side Note: I swear to GOD if Marlene messes this up and its something stupid Im going to jump off a cliff) 

There has always been something sketchy about Aria. I’ve written a million posts about it and don’t want to go through every little thing again because we’ll be here all day, but I do want to go over a few significant things.


  • Aria and Eddie Lamb

When Aria goes into Radley to get info on Bethany’s old roommate, Eddie Lamb recognizes her and says he feels like they have met before. Aria acts REALLY BIZARRE in this scene. She is obviously hiding something. She has some kind of connection to Radley Sanitarium. 

———————

  • Aria and Jason

A part of me has always believed that Jason is A. I have written theories about it. He has always had a thing for Aria. The weirdest thing was when he had all of those close-up photos of her sleeping. He claimed Alison took them-but I just dont buy that. And later A had the same photos in his/her lair.

Then there is a very similar scene in later seasons, of Aria hanging up her creepy doll photographs in a dark room. It is a parallel to when Jason is in the darkroom with the pictures of her.

Its possible that whatever is in her file has something to do with Jason. This could lead in to why it would cause Ezra to choose Nicole over Aria.

—————————

  • Aria and Mona

What the hell did Aria whisper to Mona at this moment that had her running scared?????? Aria and Mona have always had an interesting relationship and suspicious conversations.

—————————-

  • The Dollhouse 

Aria had the mannequin family framed in her Dollhouse bedroom. The look on her face seems to convey that she KNOWS SOMETHING. Who/why they were taken there.

————

There are so many crazy possibilities as to what is in Aria’s file. The last few episodes of the show have really depressed me. I’ve been majorly disappointed in the writing and reveals. I am really hoping they give us something shocking and amazing for Aria’s secret.

Fingers crossed. 

Talks Machina Highlights (Spoilers through E86)
  • Secret Denise message of the week: “He who sees my face will be cursed for a thousand years.” As you do.
  • Sam makes his entrance gagged and with his hands tied while the rest of the cast points and yells “shaaame” at him.
  • Laura thought Scanlan was screwing with them and kept waiting for him to turn around.Travis notes that they can usually talk people out of that kind of choice, and Marisha realized Scanlan was actually leaving when the conversation started going around in circles and there were no easy solutions.
  • Taryon was not supposed to appear in 85 at all. Midway through the show, Matt called Sam over and told him Taryon was going in tonight. “Why?” Matt: “’Cause… why not?” At that point, Sam had virtually no backstory planned for Taryon and didn’t even have Doty named yet. Matt: “…I can say that was a miscommunication and I thought that was the intent?” Matt told Sam they’d figure out Taryon once the party knew where they were going next, and Sam took that to mean in the next episode, so Matt sort of accidentally threw him in at the deep end.
  • Sam: “I did not do any of that to hurt you as people or characters, I did not mean any sort of betrayal by it. It just felt like the right thing to do… and the tasty way to do it.” Taliesin notes he’s had e-mails after a break-up that sounded just like that. Matt was tense through the whole thing.
  • Taliesin: “You’ve proven that we can bring in a new character and it works.” Liam keeps thinking of the pre-stream game and missing Scanlan. Marisha realized she was putting away her d12s because she only ever used them when Scanlan gave her inspiration.
  • Vex felt like she and Scanlan really understood each other because they both put up fronts, and now she’s starting to doubt that.
  • Liam notes that Scanlan was the only one who really managed to get through to Vax during his nosedive.
  • While Scanlan was out, Sam had time to think about how Scanlan would feel when he woke up, and he couldn’t really justify why Scanlan would stick around. He thought it would be really difficult to make it seem believable for Scanlan to stick around when he was that miserable, so a break made sense.
  • Liam: “With a little space from this, it was brilliant.”
  • Sam: “Some of the things that Vex said to Scanlan changed his plan. My initial intent was to leave solo, alone, and you guys all convinced me to stay with Kaylie.”
  • Liam points out that VM doesn’t really keep their guard down anymore, so they’re pretty wary of Taryon, although Grog’s on board now that they’ve beat him up (”I’ve done all the insight checking that’s needed”), and Percy’s on board because he’s excited to have a nerd-buddy and a very useful distraction.
  • It was Grog’s idea to beat up Tary and Doty, because he was worried about them possibly getting the rest of his friends killed if they weren’t able to hold their own.
  • Laura points out it was more of an audition than a hazing–they did it to their staff at the Keep. Marisha reminisces that she turned into a giant scorpion for the first time during that scene and scared off a lot of them on the spot. Vex shot an arrow at Jarrett, and he side-stepped and made eye contact, and she knew he’d be sticking around.
  • Taryon is inspired by the likes of Richard Branson and Tony Stark. The pitch to Matt: “I wanna be a guy with no skill at all who has bought everything he can do, if he has a problem he just throws money at it, and he wants to be a brave, daring adventurer and has no skill to back it up,” and Matt immediately thought of the artificer class. Matt: “In theory, without any of his equipment, he’d be a level 2. The equipment’s what brings him up to level 13.”
  • Percy stopped feeling threatened by Taryon when he realized he needed magic to build his stuff. “We can do a Bruce Banner-Tony Stark kind of thing.” Sam points out that Taliesin actually knows some of the stuff Percy talks about, whereas the simple machines Taryon talked about so condescendingly were the actual limit of Sam’s technical knowledge.
  • Marisha leans towards Keyleth mostly just using the elemental spells that she’s completed her Aramente for.
  • Vex thought of Scanlan as the dad of the group, the one you went to if you didn’t know what else to do. Sam, whispering: “…I’m so sad right now.”
  • Brian: “The first person who can open a fucking door should be the leader of Vox Machina forever.”
  • Liam on Vax: he was a total fuck-up, didn’t have a purpose, and that got flipped on its head. Vax thinks another shoe is gonna drop from the Raven Queen, but he’s not rushing towards that; he wants a little private time. “It’s a weird thing, being Fate-Touched in a game of chance.” He’s currently waiting for instruction, but doesn’t really know where to go. From Matt’s perspective, the Raven Queen’s set him on a path and has outlined the general direction, and until that path needs to be corrected, she’ll leave him to keep walking. But without training, Vax doesn’t really know how that connection works.
  • Travis thinks Grog would do okay one-on-one against Kevdak now.
  • A fan points out that Matt was silent for 18 minutes during the party’s confrontation with Scanlan. Matt loved it, because it let him become a member of the audience. “That’s the reward for all the hard work.”
  • Matt re: Keyleth potentially taking on True Resurrection as a ninth-level spell: “There’s an interesting disconnect between the mechanics of the game and a realistic narrative.” He feels that there needs to be a necessary, very important purpose for that person that didn’t get completed. Marisha mentions that there are some spells that Keyleth wouldn’t be comfortable with (same as Pike not using some spells), and that True Resurrection would be difficult. She’s excited about True Polymorph, though.
  • Matt had to tell Sam that Scanlan did not hear Grog’s contribution to the resurrection ritual–Grog unfortunately failed his contribution. Sam: “I will say as Sam Riegel listening to Travis Willingham’s song… legit tears.”
  • Doty is not quite as strong as rules-as-written, but is a little smarter so he can read and write. Liam: “But can he love?”
  • Matt points out that a lot of the show’s narrative stems from relationships, so it seemed natural that romances would start up in the game. Laura: “[Liam and Marisha] had to deal with all of us acting like asshole fucking schoolchildren.” Travis: “I just want the story to be good. I just want nudity and good story. I don’t care where it’s from.”
  • Marisha and Liam went out to lunch to talk Vax/Keyleth once it looked like things were heading that way to make sure everyone was on board and comfortable with it.
  • Sam thinks Scanlan would be very skeptical of Taryon and would think he’s an asshole and would be on board with pretty much everything that’s happened.
  • Liam hopes for a bit of overlap between Scanlan and Taryon. Sam: “Oh god…”
  • Sam honestly doesn’t know if we’ve seen the last of Scanlan.
  • Percy does not want to return to Whitestone in a permanent sense at all, but Taliesin notes that it doesn’t matter, because he has to, and he understands that responsibility’s part of being titled. He doesn’t think Percy will ever take power, but if it comes up, he has ideas of how he could be useful.
  • Brian: “Is there anything special you want to do for episode 100?” Liam: “Wear some pants, please.” Matt: “No. Never.”
  • Matt sighs heavily when everyone suggests a bodyswapping episode. Sam: “We’re doing it, Matt. Someday.” Matt: “…so hackneyed.”
  • Brian: “Oh, I forgot about Alpha! Probably because it hasn’t worked for months.”

After-Dark:

  • Sam would be down for playing both Scanlan and Taryon.
  • Everyone was pretty okay with Taryon not knowing their names. Marisha: “That seems like something we’d do.”
  • Brian asks where the giant mug is right now. Sam points out that it’s literally sitting on a shelf behind Brian, in the same shot as him. Sam’s new mug was a gift from Laura ages ago.
  • At the time, Vex thought hanging onto the deck was the smart thing to do, but after the conversation with Scanlan, she decided it was better to give it back to Grog. Travis had games and games of guilt-trips planned. Percy was planning to build fake magical cards with a bit of flashpowder.
  • Matt reveals that Fenthras was already Exalted when Vex got it. Laura, slumping dejectedly and extremely dramatically on the couch: “Fucking hell, I’ve got all this fuckin’ shit I’ve been working on!”
  • Exalted is the next level after Awakened for Vestiges. More info in the campaign guide.
  • Liam: “What if Pike was hit with love at first sight for Taryon?” Everyone just goes silent while they ponder that.
Tom Holland x Reader: Apartment

Summary: You and Tom Holland are neighbors in the same apartment complex. You have a crush on him, he has a girlfriend. What could go wrong? You could think of five separate incidents.

Warnings: cursing

Word count: 7,132


No 1: the coffee maker incident (which was all harrison’s fault)

The moment your knuckles leave the door it’s already swinging back, revealing a face flushed with relief. Tom Holland’s eyes flutter closed, leaning his head against the door frame and looking up at you through his lashes with a smile plastered on his face.

“Oh thank god you actually came. You’re good at fixing things, right?” he asked, ushering you into his apartment before hearing your answer. You’re a little reluctant to enter, thinking that you’ll somehow track mud across his pristine white carpet, or smudge a stain on his suede chairs that weren’t in there the last time you’d been over.

“I’m good at putting Ikea furniture together, if that’s what you mean,” you call after him as you hop around on one foot, attempting to slide your boots off without appearing like a fool. You look around once more, taking in the features of Tom’s place.

You can’t say you like what he’s done. There are too many colors; blues and yellows that are too bold, an abundance of throw pillows against a couch that you swear your parents had gushed over in a Rooms-To-Go catalog. None of it looks like him, and you have an inkling as to why, but you keep your mouth shut as you follow the sound of two voices into his kitchen.

“You help me with my T.V all the time. Are you good with stuff like this?” Tom inquires, looking at you over his shoulder. He’s standing in front of something, hunched over the island in the center of the room. On his left, staring at you over his mug, Harrison is sipping away on something.

There’s a smug look in his blue eyes that makes you want to tip his drink onto his shirt, but instead you ignore him, standing on Tom’s right. In front of you is a simple small coffee maker; not a Keurig, but something akin, you could imagine.

“What’s wrong with it?” you question, looking around the top and sides for damage. Tom has his knuckle in his mouth, looking worriedly at the device in front of him. You’ve never seen such an anxious look on his face and it makes your brows crease. “Tom?”

“Hm?” he says, snapping his eyes back to you. The normally sparkling brown hues are muddy, clouded with something you can’t identify. “It’s just… I don’t know what’s wrong with it. I noticed it was out of water and I went to refill it, but when I pressed the button, it wouldn’t make anything.”

Perplexed, you flipped open the lid, seeing nothing wrong. You checked the coffee ground compartment, seeing a pierced, but otherwise unused k-cup sitting in there. With crossed arms, you pressed the power button again, just to be certain.

The three of you watched as the machine’s light started to blink. You cut your eyes over to Tom, wondering what kind of stunt he was pulling. Opening your mouth to speak, you were cut off by the red light blinking out, only for nothing else to happen.

“See!” Tom cried out, fisting his hands in his hair. It curled out of his fist, making two small pony tails at the top of his head. Your eyes narrowed, realizing just how much his hair had grown in the past few months. You hadn’t seen too much of him to have a decent comparison, but you remembered it being much shorter.

“—just wait till she comes home and sees this broken! She’s going to kill me!” Your heart drops into your stomach, limbs suddenly feeling heavy. The coffee maker belonged to his girlfriend. You nodded, now understanding why he had sounded so urgent when he’d called you.

“You’re fucking Spider-Man, ya? Just go out and buy a new one with all that Marvel money,” Harrison pointed out, rolling his eyes as he took another sip of his drink. “She won’t even know the difference.”

“They don’t even make this stupid model anymore, she’s going to know it’s broken. And I didn’t even break it!” he exclaimed, his voice shaking with worry. “What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to calm the hell down, that’s what,” you chided, resting your hands on Tom’s shoulders. He relaxed under your touch, walking backwards as you steered him onto a bar stool. “It’s not the end of the world, dude, just breathe,” you reminded him, watching as his chest heaved heavily. Your hands felt warm as they slid down his arms, coming to rest on the island as you examined the coffee maker.

You drained it of its water, checking the main compartment for any irregularities. Immediately you noted a white film around the sides, and you paused, looking from the sink, to the device, and finally at Harrison.

“Harrison? What are you drinking?” you asked, pulling your phone from your back pocket and shining the flashlight down to the bottom.

“Hot chocolate,” he replied carefully, eyes darting between you and Tom. Peering down, you carefully wiped your finger against the bottom of the compartment, your nails scratching against a hard surface, coated with something.

“Haz, there’s no pot in the sink, or in the dishwasher. What—HAZ!” Tom growled, having put the pieces together. “Did you put milk in the coffee maker?”

“I mean, yeah,” he admitted a not-so-guilty look across his face. “It was sitting right there, and it was faster than heating up a pot.”

“Ah-ha,” you chuckled, closing one eye to look down into the coffee maker. “That would explain this weird shit covering the bottom of this thing.” You gave a pointed look at Harrison, who hadn’t even tried to look remorseful. “You do realize that when you don’t clean up heated milk, it leaves a hard coating on metal. This coffee maker basically has a hot plate that boils the water and then sucks in into a tube. My best guess it that the milk hardened, and the water can’t get through,” you assessed.

“Well how do we fix it?” Tom asked, crossing his arms and looking at you. He seemed to believe you had all the answers, and you bit your lip to hold back you stutters. You didn’t want to disappoint him, to make him think you weren’t the person for the job.

Cutting your eyes over at Harrison, you gave him a pointed look; you made it look reprimanding, but it was really to wipe the smirk off his face. He’d had a smug look since the moment you walked in and it bothered you, making the tips of your ears feel hot.

“Well for starters, don’t do it again,” you bit out, glaring daggers at Harrison. He didn’t reply, but he did walk out of the room, shrugging his shoulders as he walked behind you.

Tom noted the fixed stares you gave him, but said nothing of it. You pursed your lips before looking at the brunette, holding out your hand and asking for a knife.

He blinked, warily pulling out a butter knife and placing it into your palm. You frowned at it, turning it over in your hands. “I need a sharper one.”

Tom raised a brow, hazel eyes glimmering with suspicion. You snorted, wondering if he was actually afraid of you with a knife.

“What, you think I’m going to kill you or something?” You joked. You wondered for a moment if your joke was too dark for a guy who was just your neighbor, but he eventually chuckled, handing you a knife with a sharp, long blade. You gave him your phone, and asked him to shine it down into the machine. Silently, with the two of your heads close together, you both bowed your heads with work to do.

This was an awkward fifteen minutes. Every now and then Tom would pick his eyes up and watch as your face scrunched in concentration. Your lips would part as an almost inaudible curse passed through, making him laugh a bit. Every time you felt him move you would try not to catch his gaze, attempting to discreetly look at him. You could feel how close he was and it felt wrong that your heart was beating so fast, or that you couldn’t breathe.

After what felt like hours, you retracted, taking the machine to the sink to wash it out. You filled it and plugged it back in, waiting patiently with a mug as you started it.

Tom looked as though he was holding a breath, and sure enough, when the coffee streams out he sighed, leaning against the counter with his entire weight, looking as though he’s been saved from the fires of hell.

He turns, eyes shining in praise as he gushed a bunch of rushed thank you’s, his accent slurring everything together. You’re really just nodding and smiling, telling him that it’s fine and no big deal. You’ll tell yourself anything to get rid of the hammering in your chest, louder than construction work as you feel blood rush to your face.

“I seriously don’t know what I’d do without you.” He sounds like he’s speaking about your presence in general, but that can’t be true. All you’ve ever done for him was put together furniture and now fix his coffee maker, but he seems to like you, as a friend and neighbor. Which you’ll take.

“It’s no problem at all Tom. And it’ll be less of a problem if I can have this,” you pull the mug away, bringing the rich black coffee to your lips.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Do you want to stay for a bit? I feel like you’re always in and out, and-“ his words die as his cell phone rings, the ringtone that default sound that makes you jump. He takes it, holding his hand up apologetically, but you shake your head. You weren’t going to stay anyways.

Grabbing your things, you pass Harrison, who looks pretty comfortable on a couch that isn’t his, sipping on the last of his hot chocolate. He smiles when you walk by, but it’s a knowing one, as though he can read your thoughts. You scoff, but before you can get your shoes back on, Harrison says, “You should be thanking me.”

That really riles you up, and you laugh, a forced, sarcastic thing. “For what?”

“If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t be making any moves.” There’s a wink, but you don’t really care to return his comment. You strain out a “Bye, Harrison,” before closing the door and leaning your back against it.

The cup in your hand is scorching your palm, but you smile regardless. Another reason to knock on Tom’s door. 


No. 2: The incident where you meet his girlfriend and things go wrong

You had this sick feeling in your gut that toady wasn’t the best day to bring back the mug you borrowed from Tom. It was simply the day after, the most reasonable time to drop by and say, “hey, I forgot I took this” without seeming like you harbored it, or cast a spell on it. The little thing sat neatly in your hands, cradled gently as though it was made of crystal.

Your knock was verging on two minutes ago, so you decided to go again, wondering briefly if you should say his name. Calling him may have been a bad idea, but before you could form his name, the door swung back, revealing a brunette that was not Tom.

His girlfriend’s caramel colored hair was a cascade of freshly made curls, evident from the fact that her makeup and outfit were already complete. She lacked shoes, and a sense of hospitality, sizing you up like bully on a playground. When she reached your eyes, you balked, deciding whether it was better to state your purpose, or just drop the item near her feet and scram.  

It would have been much easier for her as well, until Tom caught your eyes from farther behind her. “Y/N?” he questioned, but excitedly, as though he was happy to see you. That made his girlfriend’s lip curl into a sneer, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Oh, uh,” you started, wanting so bad to bolt, but transfixed by Tom’s smile and gentle demeanor. He was dressed, indicating that he was probably going out. And from the progress they both had on their outfits, you could guess it was possible they were going on a lunch date.

You felt foolish, your heart drooping in your chest as you resigned yourself to stick with the plan. What did you expect, that his girlfriend would just magically be missing every time you came into his apartment? A dumb idea, one fueled by your fluttering heart, but also by your jealous mind.

“I accidentally took this last time I was here. Sorry,” you said, holding the cup out to the girl. She dropped her eyes to the cup, but made no moves to take it from you. Her hands stayed rooted on the door, and you felt like you could melt under her scrutinizing gaze.

Tom saved you, however, taking the cup from your hands with care, wrapping his hand around it. Your hands brushed each other’s, and your fingertips felt so warm and fiery, igniting your nerves in flames. You looked up to send him a smile, but you caught the look his girlfriend gave you.

Her blue eyes startled you, being so wide and so angry at the same time. Her perfect nails seemed to dent into the metal door as she gripped it with all her might. Her posture was rigid, feet set apart in a fighting stance. You thought her unoccupied hand was going to reach out and punch your teeth out.

The silent threat made you jump, the ware slipping from your fingers and smashing to the floor before you had time to react. You could only pull your feet away and watch in horror as it fell on its handle, small shards of grey porcelain scattering across the floor.

You want to cry, curl up beside the shards and be swept away into a dust bin, you’re so mortified. To your right, she’s smiling a little, resting her hand on Tom’s shoulder as she proceeds to ask if he’s okay. She tiptoes to look over his shoulder, as though she wasn’t standing feet away when it happened. Milking the moment, you catch the glint in her eyes when she rubs his back, saying that she’ll get a broom.

Tom nods, saying a faint, “okay babe,” before he’s taken aback by the kiss she plants on his cheek. You note the pink mark it’s left, a small, but powerful reminder that he’s taken, and that no matter how shy and polite and cute and neighborly you are, there’s nothing you can do about it.

She casts a look that is part sinister and part mocking over her shoulder, but it turns into surprise as the door closes, Tom stepping out into the hall. He’s got his hands behind his back as the door clicks shut, leaving the two of you in the hall.

“Sorry about that, I don’t know how that happened.” He rubs the back of his neck now, as if he’s really considering the idea that he might have done this.

“No, you have nothing to be sorry about. I’m the one who broke it, I should be cleaning it up, I,” your head is fixed towards the ground, unable to meet his gaze. You really just want to walk away, but it was hard, with him so close to you, his height and yours almost the same. There’s no need for tilted heads when every time you look up, it’s just his eyes on yours, and it makes you so frustrated.

“I’m really sorry about this, I promise I’ll get you another one.” In some really nice universe, this is the part where Tom chuckles and says “You don’t have to do that. Just go on a date with me and we’re even.”

But this is not a nice universe. It’s not even close. This universe is horrible and cruel, laughing at your pitiful crush on a taken British boy and your shitty attempts at being his friend.

This universe sucks, so you leave him with that half assed promise and run down the stairs, not looking back as he calls your name.


 No. 3: the incident where you hear something you shouldn’t have (but always wanted to know)

It’s late, and probably your own fault that you’re miserable and at home and have to watch a fucking slideshow about Roswell, New Mexico. The lights are mostly off in your apartment, save for three little hanging lights above your kitchen counter. One sole bottle of Heineken is untouched, probably warm since your friend left over two hours ago for her date.

And now, with a pounding headache and an impossibly bad mood, you felt your limit snap as loud shouts and a bumping bass sounded from Tom’s apartment. He wasn’t a rowdy guy, and his girlfriend didn’t seem like the type to annoy the neighbors at ten pm, but you could think of a certain blonde that would.  

It had been weeks after ‘the breaking of the mug’, weeks of building back the confidence to look Tom in the eyes, and weeks of him being crazy nice to you. He was always asking you to come over, wanting to make up for how bad your last encounter was. Eventually you both settled back into a comfortable friendship, but that only persisted as long as his girlfriend wasn’t around.

After another week of that arrangement, you felt guilty, almost as though you were doing something forbidden. You remembered the shame and palpable tension in the room that occurred every time she came home to find the two (or three, there was no way she could get rid of Harrison) inside. Almost any conversation would drop, and you would leave, giving him a curt goodbye.

It was dumb, it was strenuous and it was so unnecessary. But it felt exciting.

You swallowed that excitement down fast, knowing that there was nothing between you two. You were neighbors, and finally friends; you weren’t going to ruin it because of your unrequited crush on him.

The pounding in your head increased when you heard with clarity and annoyance the repetitive yell of shots. The song seemed to shake your entire apartment and you growled, stomping over and banging on Tom’s door with your fist.

“Hey! It’s a fucking Thursday night!” you yelled, despite your normal timid manner. You seriously just wanted to fall straight asleep and head to work tomorrow and make a final decision on this location. You were losing time and patience and the capacity to care when a face split into a wide grin upon seeing you at the door.

“Hey hey, Y/N!” Harrison’s blue eyes were unfocused and shiny, his smile too big for his face. He stumbled to grab your arm, his grip much tighter as he used all his strength to pull you in.

“Guys, look who I found!” The word “guys” had you at unease, but you surveyed the people around you carefully. You would know the Spider-Man cast anywhere, and Tom’s apartment was definitely a place where you’d seen them the most.

Tony and Jacob both had on tilted ball caps, and when Tony ran to hug you it fell off. “Oh thank god you’re hear Y/N!” he hiccuped, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “Our man Tom has something to tell you.”

The room dissolved into giggles. It sounded like a first grade classroom, their laughter so innocent and playful. The only boy who didn’t seem to be partaking in the fun was Tom, his lips set in a pout as he shoved Jacob weakly.

“Knock it off, boys,” he told them his voice sharp against theirs. He didn’t appear to be as drunk as they were, but the goofy grin that followed proved otherwise.

After another round of laughter, you tried to shrug Tony away from you, but he was heavier without full control over his body. You felt uncomfortable being around four drunk men, who were all stronger than you. Despite knowing that they meant well, the entire situation read badly.

“Tony, please get off me,” you mumbled, which seemed to earn his attention. He stood up straight, raising his arm up mechanically. You took a step back, holding your arms to make yourself small. “Guys, I get that you’re having fun, but I have work to finish, so can you-“

“You’re a location scout, right?” Jacob asks in the moment of lucidity. You nod, watching warily as Jacob stands, holding his hand out to you.

“Jacob Batalon, best actor in this room. If you’re ever in a pinch for actors, you know where to find me.”

“Jacob,” you said slowly, your handshake becoming too long. “We’ve met before.”

“Best actor in the room? Tom has a fucking BAFTA!” Harrison argued over the music, but you both paid no mind to him.

“Uh, I think I’d know if I met anyone as pretty as you. At least, I think you are. I can’t really see, but you’re Y/N, right?”

“Jacob,” you sighed, exasperated. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you were halfway to launching into an explanation before he cut you off.

“Tom’s been going off about this Y/N girl. She lives across the street or something. I’m like, Tom, dude, amigo. How do you know if she’s pretty if she’s all the way over there?” He pointed out the window and you frowned, wondering just what in the world he was on about.

“Jacob I know you! I live next door.” He snapped his fingers loudly, looking back at Tony with wide eyes.

“Tony! It’s the girl, the one Tom mmhmm-“ Harrison covered Jacob’s mouth with his hands, trying to sit him back down. You raised a brow, looking between the four of them before sighing.

“Clearly I’m not getting anything through to you, so I’ll just do it myself.” You huffed, turning to what you believed was the source of the booming music. A stack of black rectangular sound systems sat on a shelf below Tom’s T.V, each of them appearing to be on. In the background, yelling had ensued, with Jacob’s mouth finally free of Harrison’s grip. You paid no mind as you decided to simply turn the volume down. You twisted the dial a little too far, making the music so quiet, that their shouts became clearer.

“Why the hell not! You’re not going to have any other chance!”

“Your girlfriend dumped you, now is the perfect time to tell her!”

“And say what? ‘Hey Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since the day we met’?”

It kept going, not even missing a beat as the four boys started piling shout after shout on top of the others. You, however, had your hands over your mouth, slowly rising to stand up. Your mind tried to process the words in the order you heard them in, making sure it matched what you thought. Your heart felt like it would leap from your chest, knees knocking as you struggled to understand.

Tom liked you. He had since the day you met. And he didn’t plan on telling you.

It was news to you that his girlfriend was no more, but even bigger than that was the idea that each of his friends already knew that he was in love with you. That sentiment seemed like common knowledge, considering its blunt outburst hadn’t shocked anyone to silence.

Suddenly Harrison’s cheeky winks and Tom’s bright smiles seemed more than just coincidences. You wanted to run up to Tom and tell him that you felt the same way, that he meant more to you than just a neighbor or a friend. You felt your heart clench as you realized that those words were never meant to be presented like this. You weren’t supposed to know.

In some nice universe Tom would tell you over another shared mug of coffee, or an a first date somewhere sweet and thoughtful. In some nice universe you could kiss him for saying that, and he’d kiss you back.

But this was not some nice universe, and this shit always happened. You let yourself out, sliding back against the cold metal door and letting out a sob that had been working its way through your chest.

Perhaps that nice universe would only ever be a daydream


No. 4: the incident where the tables have turned

Not but two days after the drunken episode, you walked up the stairs to find Tom, sitting outside his apartment like a lost puppy. He bounced his phone on one knee, the other keeping his forehead up as he scrolled through his phone. After a moment he locked it, turning his head to see you, dazed and confused.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, his loud voice reminding you of Thursday night, and the deflated way he had yelled your name, saying that he was in love with you. You were starting to believe it; you could see his eyes light up whenever they found you, a small but genuine smile tilting his lips upward. For someone who had just lost a significant other, Tom seemed pretty much in one piece.

Maybe because you were the one seeing him.

Nevertheless, you raised an eyebrow in silent question, to which Tom sheepishly smiled. “I seem to have locked myself out of my own apartment,” he told you, standing up and shoving his hands in his pockets. He was well cleaned up, considering the last time you’d seen him he was smashed beyond compare.

Before you even had the thought of stopping, you blurted, “Doesn’t your girlfriend have a key?”

It was like kicking a puppy; a small, adorable little puppy that only wanted your attention for half a second. The mirth drained out of his face and his eyes quickly dropped to the floor. His hands swung aimlessly by his side. You wanted to take it back, say you were sorry or that you forgot, but you weren’t even supposed to know in the first place.

“Alice and I broke up,” he sighed, and all you could think was ‘So her name was Alice.’

You tried to morph your face into sympathy and surprise, but you weren’t sure how well you pulled it off. “Oh, shit Tom, I’m sorry,” you expressed, wanting to reach out and touch his shoulder, but withholding yourself. Pretending you didn’t know about his feelings for you was so difficult, and you weren’t sure why. It wasn’t like you to be flirty or drop hints, but for some reason that was all you wanted to do: wrap your arms around him, tell him he’d be fine, and remind him that you were next door if he needed you.

In some nice universe that would work, but this wasn’t time or place.

“My spare key is with Harrison, surprise surprise,” Tom joked, which you smiled at.

“You’re never going to see that key again,” you laughed, bringing back a sliver of a smile to the man’s face. He looked better with it, you thought, doing nothing for the butterflies in your stomach. Your laughter calmed down enough for you to shrug. “You can come stay at my place until he gets here, if you don’t have anything to do.”

His eyes widened, but he hid it by raising his left brow. “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

“Considering it returning the favor. Besides, I’m always in your apartment. We need a change of scenery.” You unlocked your door, coming into your apartment with tense shoulders. Tom had never been in here before, and there was a reason for that. His presence in your apartment would gradually become less and less strange, making him just a part of your home than the couch or the curtains. You didn’t want him to be so familiar that it seemed like he belonged here, because he didn’t. He belonged in his nice white apartment, far away from whatever you had going on here.

There wasn’t much. You weren’t a minimalist, but you preferred less pillows and decorations than actual furniture. The colors were mostly neutral blues and greys, with red here or there. Along the walls were huge posters of cities you’d visited for work. Ashville, Slab City, Roswell, and other obscure towns were littered across your living room, and when you looked back you noticed Tom was staring at all of them.

“You’ve been to all these places?” he inquired, awe lacing his voice. You were shocked by his curiosity, considering he travelled all the time for his job. His face was fixed on the posters, before catching the little framed photos around the bookshelves. “Holy shit, is that you?”

He had the frame in his hand now, and judging from it, you were sure he was indulging himself in staring at a truly mortifying high school photo of yours. “Who are these people?” he pointed, and you grimaced.

“High school friends, if you couldn’t tell by our bad fashion choices,” you groaned, coming up beside him and studying the picture. You were in the middle, as you often were in group photos because everyone was taller than you. It didn’t particularly matter in this instance; you were squatting down, your hands clasped as if in prayer, staring down the camera with a smirk. Above you, four of your friends had lifted up the shortest girl in your group, perching her on their shoulders. It looked like a dysfunctional human pyramid.

“I don’t think I have a picture of me and my mates half as cool as this,” Tom remarked, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You think that’s cool? I think we were more crazy than cool,” you spoke wistfully, setting the picture back down. “I’m not even sure why I keep that around. It doesn’t really fit in with this whole thing,” you gestured wildly, pointing at the dozens of colorful photos. Tom’s eyes landed wherever your finger pointed, until the rested back on you.

“Which one of these is your favorite?” he asked, turning in a circle to view every landscape. You put a finger to your lips, eyeing each one carefully, until you landed on one filled with green and purple.

“I took this in Glasgow, about four years ago,” you stated, standing beside a quite large picture of a sprawling field of bluebells. “First time scouting overseas, and a studio needed pictures of old woods to use as concept art. I was with a senior photographer on this one, but he let me take the shots they eventually used.” You glanced up at the photo in reverence, before looking over to Tom.

His face expressed pure adoration, and you found that his eyes rested more so on you than the photo. He seemed to be in a trance, only snapped out of the daze a minute after you’d stopped talking. He tried to shake the grin off, but it was too late. So he went with it, smiling even wider.

“Wow. I’ve been to Scotland before, and I knew it was beautiful. But that?” he threw his hands down and you laughed at his gesture. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“You just have to know where to look. I know I never would have found this place if David wasn’t so familiar with Glasgow,” you told him, heading into the kitchen for drinks. “Next time, take someone who knows what to look for.”

“Maybe I should take you.” It was supposed to be mumbled under his breath, just a wish he kept to himself, but he let his guard down. You heard him, freezing as you stuck your head into the fridge, thanking the heavens that you had a cover for your burning face. You wanted to turn around and tell him yes; absolutely, positively, one-hundred-percent were you on board with going anywhere with him. You wanted to joke that you’d pack your luggage right then and there, that between two seasoned travelers like you, there was sure to be a discount somewhere.

But all you could do was force down the thoughts, grabbing two cokes from the fridge before pressing them to your face. You turned to Tom and smiled, a restrained, glowing thing that startled him, for he hesitantly stepped towards you.

“Maybe you should. Glasgow is one of my favorite places. I’d be happy to show you around.” You hoped you didn’t come off as anything other than friendly, but knowing the situation you were both in, there was no telling his response.

Tom just blinked, his face like a deer in headlights. Suddenly his face was tinted in pick and he smiled, looking down at his shoes bashfully. “I don’t know when we’d ever do it,” he commented, rooting you two back in the reality, the place where you both had jobs to do and obligations to others. But it had been nice, dreaming of Scotland with Tom. Perhaps it would come true.

There was a calm silence that settled in between the conversation, which was ripped away when Tom’s cell rang. He picked it up with reluctance, before making a face at the id. “Haz you better be downstairs or else I’m hanging up.” There was a bit of yelling on the other side, Harrison’s voice distorted by the traffic outside. Tom listened for a moment more before nodded, cutting his eyes over to you.

“Yeah, you can just open yourself, you’re always there anyways,” he quipped, ending the line before sighing. “Sorry, that was Haz, he’s here with my key.” Every word he said sounded breathless, a string of words in an almost incomprehensible British accent and an apology mixed in somewhere. You smiled, before jumping up.

“Oh! Before I forget,” you babbled, reaching into a packed kitchen cabinet for something. You stood on the tips of your toes, reaching for a turned handle before it landed gracefully in your palm. You smiled, handing it over to the dumbfounded man over the counter.

“What’s this?” he asked, turning over the red and blue designed cup. “Is this for me?”

“Yeah! I told you I was going to get you a new mug, I didn’t say what it would look like though.” You bit your lip, wondering if a Spider-Man mug was really the way to go in this situation. In addition to playing the wen head, you knew he had an affinity for the character as well, hoping the combined coincidences would lead him to like it.

He pressed it into his palms, turning it over in the daintiest of ways. He clutched it tight, as though he might break it from just breathing on it. When he picked his head up, you noted the watery glimmer in his brown eyes, which he tried his hardest to blink back. There were so many small things about Tom that made your heart flutter, but you didn’t have time to study them all.

“Thank you,” his small voice took you from your thoughts. “That was really sweet of you. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to,” you relied firmly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “And I couldn’t live with myself if I never replaced it. Seriously, take it,” you told him, seeing as he was unwilling to leave with it. He stared at it a little while longer before he jolted, a buzzing sounding from his back pocket.

“Harrison’s here, I should, uh,” He stammered out, slowly taking some steps back. You nodded, giving him a slight wave and then headed back to the kitchen. You didn’t look up until you heard the door open, and then click shut, the air in your apartment much colder than it had been.

You stared around, wondering if you could find differences in your home now that Tom had been inside it. Your old theory was clearly correct, because your place had never felt so lonely and empty since you’d moved in. With a frown, you stared at the picture of Glasgow, wondering if in some other time and place, it was taken by you and Tom.


No.5: the incident where everything becomes clear

You actually burst into his apartment, a loud banging noise that sounds like it belongs in a movie. You’re too dramatic, and for reasons only you can understand.

Two heads turn, almost in sync. Blue eyes stare your form up and down, a quirk in his brows, while Tom just screams “Y/N!” It’s more of an exclamation that a question, which prompts Harrison to ask the obvious.

“What are you doing?” It’s so posh coming from him, the accent highlighting the annoyance in his voice. Or maybe it’s confusion, because he seems baffled not only by your presence, but by your urgency.

Tom doesn’t seem to mind. He’s got wide, shining eyes, and a posture that’s halfway out of the chair he was sitting in. He crosses the length between you two in an instant, throwing you off for a second before you regained proper footing.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, staring you down with those concerned brown hues of his. You wanted to take his face in your hands, and reveal your purpose for being here in the first place.

You were out of breath, from both being so close to him, and from running up three flights of stairs. After getting started on a scouting job earlier this week, you requested half the day off to start finalizing your travel plans. Within the next week you’d be flying into Tokyo and Hong Kong for a few days with Shanghai as a backup plan in case you didn’t get the shots you wanted.

You had been so psyched to start packing and start sharing about your trip, when you came across a moving truck in front of your complex. And lo and behold, you caught the sight of Alice, her arms full of those yellow throw pillows you had seen in his apartment all those weeks ago. Her blue eyes scanned the street until they came to rest on you, shouldering a hand bag that probably cost less than her foundation.

Her eyes turned to steel, lips curved in the most menacing grimace you’d ever seen. Her eyes appeared watery as you came closer, the grimace turning into a full-blown snarl the longer you stayed in her vicinity.

You practcally ran away, heart pounding out of fear. It wasn’t that Alice was mean or nasty towards you; it was that you could understand why she didn’t like you. You didn’t know the specifics of their breakup, but if you could guess, you figured Tom’s affection towards you might have played a factor in it.

The guilt burned your chest, but there was something else there you didn’t understand, something that led you to Tom’s unlocked door. In the awkward silence between you two, you wondered why it was unlocked, and why he didn’t seem to question why you were here. The longer he stared at you, the more your fingers itched, and the more you yearned to touch him.

So you pulled him out of the apartment, his feet tripping over the threshold as the door closed behind him. You caught a glimpse of Harrison’s face, blue eyes shining with mirth before he winked, clicking it shut. Tom turned his head to look back, but you grabbed his cheeks, making him face you.

He opened his mouth to ask something, but the question was caught it his throat. Your lips were suddenly on his, and he shifted closer to you, like it was an instinct. Like he got kissed by breathless girls outside his apartment on a daily basis.

His arms wrapped around your waist, before coiling tightly, his nails digging into your jacket. Your hands left his cheeks, instead falling to the nape of his neck, where you brushed small curls of hair with your knuckles. Everything about kissing Tom felt like fitting into a jigsaw puzzle; you knew exactly where everything went. From your hands to your chest to your lips, every part of you felt in place.

Tom eyes opened as he pulled back, gazing at you like he would a star in the sky. “Why did you do that?” His nearly inaudible voice was shaky, his hands running up and down your sides. He tried to still himself, but you could feel the skittish energy he was trying hard to contain.

You wound your arms around his neck, pressing yourself closer to him. “I don’t actually know,” you told him seriously, a smile in your lips.

He tried to roll his eyes, but he too was smiling at you. “You just did it, because? Just because you could?”

“Because I’ve wanted to for a long time. Because you accidently said last Thursday that you were in love with me. And because I’m in love with you too.”

Tom’s arms dropped and he balked, watching you with a gaping mouth. “You heard that? You heard me say that?” he reiterated, looking you in the eye. When you nodded he groaned, placing his head in his hands. He refused to look at you when you coaxed him out of his shame.

“I can’t believe you knew that,” he muttered, his face turning redder by the second. You tiptoed up and kissed the crown of his head, causing him to peek at you through his fingers.

“I’m sorry you’re embarrassed, but if I didn’t know I’d never have the guts to kiss you,” you compromised, pulling his hands away from his face. “C’mon, this situation isn’t all bad.”

“It’s not bad at all, really,” he sighed, a content smile gracing his lips. “I mean, you did say you were in love with me too, right?”

“Do kisses not mean anything to you Brits? Is that just like, a thing you guys do?” You poked fun at him, earning another small peck on your lips to shut you up. You smiled and laughed, making it messy and causing his lips to end up short squish against your cheek. He rolled with it though, smothering your face with tiny little pecks, squeezing you tight in his arms.

From somewhere in the apartment, Harrison screamed “Finally!”