i might be having even trouble to breathe

For all my plus size girls

- Coconut oil or shea butter is great for boob sweat smelliness, since it seals in moisture (it works for me, however if you’re protein sensitive or prone to body acne you might not want to do this)


- Diluted essential oils, natural deodorant or shea butter for thigh chafing. I wouldnt recommend antiperspirant cause aluminum and all that jazz.


- Crop tops? WEAR THEM.


- They want you to ride their face but you’re scared? Do it. They’re grown. They will find a way to breathe.  (I mean, make sure you dont cover both their mouth and nose for safety reasons)


- Afraid to have sex with the lights on? Girl, they knew what they signed up for, flaunt them stretch marks. Guarantee you that your confidence will turn them on even more.


- Double chin troubles? Search for contouring videos on youtube


- Having trouble with confidence? Walk with your shoulders back and your head high, I promise you it works


-Scared to eat in fear of judgment? Please eat, they’re probably not paying you any attention and if they are? Fuck em


- Worried about if you could get away with wearing that? Well I’m telling you that you CAN. 

- Friends who make negative comments about your weight are not your friends !!!!


And last but not least important, ALWAYS remember:

-YOU FUCKING PRETTY, BITCH

STORY TIME BEHIND HIS FUCKING FACE:

Ok so when it’s my turn to take the picture, I go up and I ask Sebastian what were we going to do for it like “What are we doing, Sebastian? What are we doing?” and he goes:

“I don’t know but your hair looks AMAZING!”

I’m like 8D *internal dying animal noises*

But I keep my cool and I’m like “Thank you! Would you like to touch it?” because this is just a thing that happens so I wanted to offer since he complimented it.

He was like “No but can I just rest my head on it.” and I you’re goddamn fucking right I said yes.

A stronger and far better woman than I might have said no, but I am not that woman.

BUT I DIDN’T KNOW THAT THIS WAS THE FACE YOU MADE, SEBASTIAN, YOU LITTLE SHIT! THIS EXPLAINS WHY THE GIRLS AFTER ME JUST FELL OUT LAUGHING OMG!

He looks so fucking happy laying in my hair though, like I can’t even breathe right now y'all and it’s been HOURS.

This is the man who actually leaned over and took a selfie with me even though the handlers said no.

This is the man who got in trouble for giving too many hugs despite the handlers giving him absolute glares of doom and faces of “WTF ARE YOU DOING SEBASTIAN?! WE SAID NO!”

This is the man who went out of his way to make each experience with his fans work out the way they wanted it to and who did it all with the most wonderful smile on his face.

This man… this absolutely dorky sweetheart of a beautiful man is everything.

Prince Prompts:

(See also here for more knights and princes falling in love or check out my royalty prompts/royalty au tag)

Anonymous said:Do you have any prompts for an arrogant bastard prince trying to woo a feisty (and sarcastic) knight? Thank you

Anonymous said:Hi!! First of all, I love your blog! Secondly, do you have any prompts for a still-in-closet gay prince falling in love with another boy?

Anonymous said:Hi, love your blog! Do you have any prompts for a prince falling in love with a knight who’s less than interested? Thank you! 

nikkigrowl said:Hi I really liked your prince x female knight prompts. Got anymore? Thanks :)


1) “Look. I know I’m the prince, so I know I must seem very intimidating to you, but I was wondering if we could have dinner?” 
“Oh,” the knight said, not looking up. “I’m not sure I’d dare have dinner with you, sire. I might swoon.” 
The prince hadn’t meant it to come out like that! They did their best to cover their agony. “Come to my chambers at seven.” They tried their best, most charming smile that always seemed to work on everyone else too. “I promise I’ll catch you if you swoon.” 


2) “Have I done something to offend you, sire?” 
“Offend me?” The prince determinedly didn’t look at the man standing in their doorway, not sure they could do so without giving something away. Their heart would pound so hard they could hear it a kingdom over, or they might flush, or forget the entire alphabet with the look on that face. “Of course not.”
He could feel the weight of the man’s eyes on him, tracking his movements, studying what it could of his expression.
 “It’s just that I…cannot bear the thought of having troubled you, my lord,” the man continued. He took a step closer into the prince’s chambers. “I know you are very busy with your duties and the kingdom but-” but you’ve been avoiding me. It was true. Even if it wasn’t the type of accusation tossed at one’s prince. 
The prince released a breath. Forced themselves to look up and felt their stomach bottom out with a treacherous heat. “I assure you, you could not offend me if you tried.” It came out far too soft, damn it all.


3) The prince had the awful feeling that the knight was only there because they were the prince. Because they felt they couldn’t say no to him over anything. No, it wasn’t a feeling - he knew it. Anyone in the kingdom would give him anything if he wanted, if he asked. It would be so easy to ask. To kiss, to touch, to-they swallowed. “You’re dismissed. Thank you for the report.” 
This was torment. But they would not force themselves knowingly on an unwilling partner, that was not the kind of rule they wished to uphold.


4) “Get out of here.” The knight pushed the prince back, snapping her visor up. “It’s you they’re after, you are helping no one by lingering.” 
“I would not abandon my troops!”
“You would see your knights killed for their loyalty to a dead prince?” 
He hesitated for a moment longer - the thoughts rushing through his head. What if he never saw her again? How could he in good faith and conscious let his knights die for him? And yet, she was right. 
“You better come back. I still need to discipline you for daring give your prince orders.”
“Oh, well, I wouldn’t dare disobey such an order as my prince commands it,” she returned. “Go.”
He ran. 

Old Dusty Piano

Characters: sam holland x reader

Notes: a lot of people have been requesting an imagine involving the twins and this one has to do with sam (dw, i’ll write one for harry in the future). i hope you guys like it, i definitely enjoyed writing it! (:

Song: Hold Me Love - RY X

—————————————————————————————————— 

You’re lost.

Just great.

You sigh which turns into a groan as you turn on your heel and walk back the way you came.

You look down at the confusing map the administration gave you.

“Where in the bloody hell is this room?”

You walk on a long corridor and past several wooden doors. You grow frustrated when you notice that none of the doors have a label on them.

“Okay, I’m in Corridor B so the room should be… here?”

You turn to the wooden door on your right. You look at both ends of the hallway, hoping that someone, anyone, would pop out and will be able to help you.

You take a deep breath and push open the door.

Empty.

“I quit. If finding a room is this hard, I can’t imagine how classes will be,” you say to yourself.

You take a second to look around and just take a small break before going on your quest again. The room is completely bare except for an old piano sitting in the middle of the room. There are no desks, no boards, no bookshelves- just a dusty piano.

You look around just to make sure you are completely alone and slowly walk towards the piano. You don’t know how to play it but you’ve always been interested in learning how to play. You set your bag and all the paperwork down on the floor and then take a seat on the stool.

Dust litters on the surface and you blow on it, causing it to erupt in a cloud of powder in front of you, making you cough. You wave your hand around, trying to get rid of it and then finally lift up the fall board which covered the keys.

The keys are yellowing already and it makes you wonder how old this thing actually is. You look around again to make sure you’re alone and then press on a key.

A strong billowing sound echoes around the room and it makes you smile. You hit another key and then another.

“Let’s see if I remember this one,” you mumble and start playing the basic tune to ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’.

“That’s a good one, right there.”

You slam your fingers down on the keys, making a BOOM sound.

“What the fuck?” You turn to your left and a tall boy stands there, watching you. “How did you-?”

“Through the door,” he points towards it.

He has a smile on his lips that makes it seem like he’s trying really hard not to bust out laughing. A sea of freckles lay on his nose and carry out towards his cheeks. Playful eyes stare back at you and even from the distance, you can tell they’re hazel with glints of green in them.

Mesmerizing.

“Are you a pro?” He asks, this time pointing at the piano.

You blink several times to snap out of his trance and realize he’s mocking you. You laugh softly and nod, “Pretty much. If I knew I had an audience, I would have played one of my better pieces.”

He laughs with you and the sound makes your heart swell.

“What about you?” You ask, not wanting to stop the conversation. “Do you play?”

He shrugs and looks down at his feet shyly. “Somewhat. Not as good as you, though.”

“Show me,” you say. You’re surprised at yourself for being so bold but there’s something about this guy that gives you the confidence to be yourself.

“You haven’t even asked for my name and you already want me to play something for you?” He teases as he makes his way towards you and sits down on the stool next to you.

“Fine, what’s your name then?”

He’s sitting really close to you, his arm pressed onto yours, and you find the excuse to blame the limited space the stool provides. He looks over at you, a big smile showing his straight white teeth and then answers you.

“Sam Holland,” he states and sticks out his hand.

You take it and he squeezes your hand softly. “Y/n,” you tell him.

“Pretty,” and then lets go of your hand. “I meant your name. I mean- I didn’t- You’re pretty too but I was-”

You nod, laughing and feel your face grow warm. His cheeks mimic your own as a slight pink overcomes them.

He’s incredibly cute and his sarcasm matches your own which you love.

“Ohh-kay! So, any specific song?” He asks you.

You purse your lips and then shrug. “You pick. First song that comes to mind.” You’re really interested in what his choice will be and will most likely determine if the small crush that’s growing should grow even more.

He nods, smiles, and then gently lays his finger on top of the keys.

Then he starts playing and the first note almost knocks you to the ground. You recognize the song immediately. You grip the edges of the stool and watch as his fingers flow like water above the keys.

How can someone play so beautifully and effortlessly? You feel lucky to even be sitting here, witnessing all this. You don’t even feel yourself leaning into him, completely hypnotized by the fact that those are his fingers, creating magic.

Then he stops.

“What? Why’d you stop?”

“I was distracted,” he mutters and you turn to look at him and find your face inches away from his. His eyes roam your features carefully and it makes you feel both vulnerable and excited.

“Sorry,” you simply say and lean back. You give him a shy smile before continuing, “I recognized the song, ‘Hold Me Love’ by RY X. You play okay for a rookie, though.” He laughs, shaking his head. “No, but seriously. You’re talented, I was amazed the whole time.”

“Thank you,” and he gives you the softest smile you have ever seen. You’re falling already and that means trouble. “Want to learn how to play it?”

“Uh-” you chuckle, “I do, actually.”

He holds out his hand, palm facing up, and at first you’re confused. Then you place your hand in his and he guides it towards the keys. Your heart is beating so fast, you’re scared he might even hear it.

“Place this one here,” he whispers and his breath hits your cheek since you’re leaning over him once more. “And the other one,” he takes your other hand, “here.”

He lays his own hands on top of yours, fingers on top of your fingers, and then he presses down on them. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you hear the sounds emanating from the piano.

Even though he’s guiding you, the fact that it’s your fingers creating this sound makes you feel so powerful.

You get through the song and you cannot stop the big smile on your face- it even starts to make your cheeks hurt.

“Wow,” you breathe out.

“I know,” he replies but he keeps his hands on yours. You don’t mind, you could sit here all day.

“I can teach you more songs?” He asks and you detect a hint of hope in his voice.

“Right now?” You’re not sure how much more of this overwhelming emotion you can take.

“Well, no. We could, like, meet up here at the same hour. Tomorrow? Or any day… that, um, you prefer?”

You bite your bottom lip to keep you from smiling so big and look down at your hands still on the keys. “Do I have to pay you?”

He laughs softly and shakes his head. He finally releases your hands and the both of you sit back in your regular positions. “I don’t mind teaching you for free but, you can thank me in another way.”

“What other way is that?” You swallow hard.

“A date?” He raises an eyebrow at you. “It doesn’t have to be like a date date but maybe coffee or lunch?”

“You’re really cute, you know that?” You tell him between chuckles. “But that sounds fair. Let’s say that for every song you teach me, we can do coffee… or lunch.”

He smiles your favorite smile again and nods. “Deal.”

You stand up and retrieve your things off the floor. You turn to look at him and he’s standing now too.

Wow, he’s tall.

You don’t want to say goodbye just yet. You have so many questions and you want to know more of what makes up Sam Holland.

“I’m actually lost,” you tell him. “Could you help me find my way around? Maybe like a small tour?”

His eyes light up which makes your stomach do a flip. He nods and takes the map from your hands.

You both walk out of the room and into the corridor, leaving an old dusty piano behind that has created a new shiny beginning for you and a bright eyed freckled boy.

anonymous asked:

I'm a little fuzzy on the language of "attack" when referring to asthma, but one of my characters runs for a while and then gets wheezy+tightness of chest. Their inhaler is a three mile walk away, and ambulances can't be called for plot reasons. Could they survive the walk with rest periods/be able to talk? Could they later spend a couple of months carrying a rescue inhaler but no prescription meds? (If it helps, they've never been hospitalized for an attack and rarely have them)

Hey there nonny! I have a two-part series on Asthma coming sometime in the next month or two – I’m finally getting back into writing posts, which is so nice – but here’s the skinny. 

Asthma is one of those annoying positive feedback loops. That is, they get some inflammation in their bronchi and bronchioles, which makes them wheeze. Wheezing is scary, and it can set off more of an immune response, which triggers more inflammation. 

A “rescue inhaler,” or albuterol (trade names: Ventolin, Proventil, ProAir, about 8 million more across the globe) helps by giving what’s called a beta agonist that encourages the bronchioles to open up. Other meds for asthma knock down the inflammation (steroids) or help dry out the secretions that come along for the ride (anticholinergics). 

Albuterol is a great fix for mild or even moderate asthma attacks, which it sounds like yours is, but it isn’t always enough even in those cases. 

As for walking for miles… it’s possible, but it’s going to make them a lot worse. The longer an attack goes on the harder it is to break, because that cycle goes on for longer, and the more severe it will become. I wouldn’t throw the book across the room if I read it, though. 

My suggestion would be, as with all things, ramp up the challenges. Over time, have their breath get shorter and shorter, the need for rest more frequent. One thing people don’t always describe about asthma is the fear. It’s realyl hard to not get terrified at the feeling of being unable to breathe. (If you want to try this for yourself and you’re not asthmatic or have heart conditions, try breathing through a straw for a few minutes. You’ll get the claw-at-your-own-chest sensation, which just ramps up over time.) 

So I would say yes, this is believable, it’s okay if you decide that even after they get their inhaler it doesn’t fix things completely and they need to go to the ER, they should be exhausted by the end, ramp up the exhaustion / trouble breathing / fear. Sentences might come out whole at first, but by the end, they should come out in 4-5 word bursts. 

Oh, and they’ll likely be exhausted once their inhaler kicks in and they feel better. They may also feel very shaky. 

Also, consider the implications of having someone else involved. Does a friend swoop in with a car at the last minute? What about having someone walk with them and having the character’s fear reflected in their behavior? 

I hope that all of this helps! 

xoxo, Aunt Scripty

[disclaimer

[Maim Your Characters is out TODAY!

Epilogue after Reunion

The reunion went smooth as fuck everyone was so surprised that i changed into a rich and sexy stud. They don’t know that i took a cheat path by taking a stud’s body into myself.

Clean hair, ripped muscles, perfect beard, square jaw. But i felt something is missing. Deep down i wish i could be bigger. This might be the hidden wish of that person i absorbed long ago.

One day after work, i went to the gym. I’ve been a member and had a personal trainer before i steal a stud’s body. It was late at night and the gym was quiet. My personal trainer welcomed me. He was very surprised how my body changed so much in less than a year. He licked his lips, showing that he took interest in my body.

“I assume you took the infamous serum and taking someone’s body.” as he pushed me to an inclining bench and pulled my office tie.

Ah, he seemed familiar of the serum, then. I nodded in affirmation.

He gave me a quick kiss, “Naughty boy, let me give you a punishment for cheating.”

He took of my pants, using me as his fucktoy mindlessly.

“How do you fell, rich boy?! I really like you now… those muscles fits you… UGH… very fucking well. UNF..Fuck i… i might enjoying this more i did you last time!”

He fucked me through every hole i had. My mouth, my ass, his movements are wild as fuck i felt being ripped apart. He has trouble catching his breath while fucking. And i have nothing to do but moaning in pain and pleasure.

He pushed me back to the bench as he began fapping. He moaned hard and harder. He’s getting near to the climax.

“Ugh.. AAARGGHH… You like this man milk, rich guy. Tell you what, I’m offering you my own body to make you even more perfect!”

Did i hear that right? He offered his own body to be absorbed by myself!

“But no, i don’t want to be just absorbed… I wanted to become a part of your rich life. I want my mind, my memory, and my sanity intact. I wanted to live alongside you as a rich stud”

“But i… i don’t have the serum”

He laughed, as he cleaned himself off, “Don’t fret, i have the serum with me.”

He went off to his gym bag as he took 2 serum that has same color.

“This serum works differently that the original one. Instead the host absorbing another, this one literally merges two bodies while keeping their personalities intact, thus two minds in one body.”

He offered one of the serum to myself. I took off my office suit, as we went to the shower room together.

I kept looking at his shaft. I can feel it… It’s going to be mine soon… That manhood, strong veiny and manly…

He pushed me down to the floors as he unite our body into a much more perfect entity.

Our manhoods were colliding each other. Two treasures of studs merging together into a larger, stronger, and more virile weapon of man.

“Ohhhh… I can feel it, our body merging..!!!” He moaned as he kept pushing into myself.

His arms, his legs, his torso, it melts down into my own. My own body accepted the foreign power of man. Our lips met, our tongues wrestle, using little time to give deep kiss as our head meld together.

His knowledge, his memories, began to pour into my own. But his personality intact.

“I finally going to live with you, as a rich man” another voice echoed in my head.

As he finally melds into me fully, My body began to move. I pushed myself up into a standing position. My arm began to move on its own, as if it’s partially controlled by my personal trainer, he put his briefs into our own body…

But then another spark of pleasure rise up in every inch of our nerves. It’s having an AMAZING ORGASM… EVERYWHERE

AHHHH… AAAAAAGHHHHH… SUCH PLEASURE… It feels.. GREAT..!!! ARRRGHHHH

We arched our combined heads. Our pecs began to inflate with power. Veins surfacing on our abs, biceps. Our strength combined, becoming the true being of testosterone!

Spines grew longer, our body increased in height

Our shoulders grow larger, our frame grow wider in size

Our abs stacks to each other, forming an amazing, large eight pack.

We moaned so loud in amazing pleasure. It’s the greatest growth we never felt before!

One ripped man, and one hulking man, together they become a large, powerful beauty made from muscle.

*Credit image goes to https://growboygrow.tumblr.com/

Suddenly our crotch felt really hot. As we feel blue inside our balls… The flaccid manhood began to grow enormously, two additional testicles were manifested into the scrotum. Forcing the briefs to grow obscenely large.

Slowly but surely the combined manhood forced upon our briefs, precums began flowing like crazy because all 3 sets of testicles working harder than normal.

Strange feeling flows up from our crotch into our pecs as our nipples grows and spurts out liquid. With a quick taste, it’s actually precum being shot.

The process was completed. A new, perfect man has stood in front of the mirror.

“We look amazing, isn’t it” As the voice from my personal trainer echoed through my mind.

“Indeed, we are.” As we flexed together our new large guns and posing a “most muscular” posture.

“I” took a new shot of myself in front of the mirror. Using it as the wallpaper of my smartphone.

Now I’m no longer the rich man, nor the personal trainer. But a new perfect entity of pure testosterone.

It is time to live together in harmony in form of perfect muscle. I pack all my things and wore my office suit.

Sadly, it seems i can’t button them. Because this combined body has larger frame and wider chest.

Oh well, might as go back home shirtless. At least my office pants is still wearable, albeit it’s too tight.

I might need new clothes, larger size.

This personal trainer named Thomas, lived happily alongside me. As two minds inside one perfect body.

As a man of strength, testosterone, virility, and of course… wealth.

Now, for a new selfie in my facebook.

I can’t wait to see my friends shocked upon my perfected handsomeness.

anonymous asked:

I saw your post about him wearing a sports bra instead of a binder to sleep and I just thought I'd tell you that that is seriously dangerous as well. I used to sleep in them all the time before I even started questioning if I was trans and they have messed up my ribs pretty bad. I have trouble breathing on a regular basis because of it and can't wear a binder or a sports bra or even a cami ever either. I know you probably didn't know this but I thought it might be important for you to know

(( i’ve gotten a couple asks about this, and i’ve been debating how to properly answer it for a good bit because it’s a sensitive topic and i don’t want to spread any kind of misinformation.

for as much as i’ve looked into it and asked around, the issue isn’t wearing sports bras to sleep, but wearing restrictive ones, or multiple bras, which is a very very bad and damaging practice. i based his method on my own experience: i myself wear sports bras at night for comfort’s sake, not for binding.  i wear them a size bigger than my actual bra size, and i never wear them if they’re not breathable. 

unfortunately, applying my personal experiences to rich without fully looking into it was a mistake. i apologize for that. however, i’ve been drawing information from both trans/transmasc friends, and for as far as i’ve come to gather, as long as you can take a full breath in and out, you’re good.  that isn’t to say it doesn’t vary from person to person - this is just what worked for me and a handful of the people i know. in my (and rich’s) case, he stays vigilant about how his body is feeling and makes sure to take precautions to avoid any damage to his ribs and chest. ))

Day Eight: Free Day

Here it is, my last(terrible, I’m sorry) post for @voltronwhumpweek2017. No spoilers, 1.5k. words. 


“This is all your fault, you know,” Lance hissed. “Yes, Lance, we have to go into that weird room with the weird gas. Lance, there are prisoners in there. You have to put others before yourself, Lance. Well I did and look where that got me. Sick, stuck in a room with you.”

“Lance, please, just shut up,” Keith groaned, burying his face in a pillow. “I already feel sick enough, and you’re not making me feel any better. It’s not like I’m happy about the arrangement either. I’m stuck in a room with you. At least we saved lives. Doesn’t that make you feel better”

“I guess,” Lance sighed, a coughing harshly into the crook of his arm. “How much longer do we have to be in here anyway?” Keith shrugged, his face pale in the harsh lighting of the med bay.

“I wish I could sleep,” Keith said, dragging a thick wool blanket over his trembling body.

“Why don’t you? It would make both of us happy.” Keith shot Lance a half- hearted glare.

“My head hurts too much.”

“Really? I don’t have a headache.” Lance’s eyes were furrowed as he looked at Keith.

“Than you’re lucky,” Keith muttered. A coughing fit overtook his body, his body shaking with the effort. When he was finished he groaned, his voice wrecked. Lance’s fingers fluttered to Keith’s forehead, surprised to find Keith much warmer than himself.

“You know, I think your fever’s gone up,” Lance said.

“What, no sarcastic joke?”

“Keith-” Lance bit his lip, unsure of what to say. “I’m going to get Shiro. Stay here.”

He shuffled into the lounge with a massive blanket over his shoulders, the lounge feeling quite a bit colder than the med bay had. Shiro’s eyes widened when he saw the brunette enter the room and he darted up from his spot on the couch, his hand flying to Lance’s head.

“You should be in bed,” he instructed.

“Keith’s getting worse,” Lance said. “I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s about time you two should eat,” Shiro mused. “Are you hungry?” Lance answered with a small shrug, the blanket shifting with the movement of his shoulders. “Come with me, Hunk made soup.”

They found Hunk in the kitchen, grinding spices into a huge metal pot stewing on the stove. “Oh, hey guys!” he grinned. “The soup’s almost ready. Lance, you feeling any better, bud?”

“Meh.”

“Here, take some of this,” Hunk implored. “I made your favorite from back in the garrison.” Lance accepted the bowl, staring down at floating pieces of chicken and noodle. The scent wafting off of it reminded him on simpler times and made him feel just a tiny bit better.

“I’ll take one for Keith. Thanks,” Shiro said as Hunk labeled out steaming chicken noodle soup, dropping it into a large white bowl.

“Feel better soon, Lance,” Hunk called as Lance and Shiro began to make their way back to the med bay.

Keith was tossing and turning on his small cot, his eyes wide open and his breathing ragged. Shiro dropped down next to him, gently placing a hand on Keith’s forehead. “You were right, Lance,” he sighed. “Keith, how are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he croaked. Shiro purses his lips, taking a spoonful of soup.

“Can you eat?” Keith eyed the spoonful with disdain. Finally he shook his head.

“Oh, come on, Keith,” Lacd scoffed, shoving a spoonful of soup into his mouth. It burned as it went down but he ignored it and smiled widely, putting on a show for Keith. “If I can do it, so can you. Unless you want to admit I can eat more soup than you.” Lance knew that his jab at Keith was weak but he could see how worried Shiro was and after seeing Keith refuse food, Lance was beginning to get worried, too. Keith’s eyes narrowed and Lance shoved another spoonful of soup into his mouth. “Wow, Keith, you suck at this.”

“Are you really going to do this now, Lance?” he snapped, grabbing the soup from Shiro. “See, I can eat soup just as well as you can.” Lance smiled as Keith drained his bowl, smirking at Lance as he set the empty bowl down on the floor next to him. The smirk fell from his face, and his eyes rolled back in his head as he fell down to his cot, snoring softly as soon as his head hit the pillow. Shiro heaved a sigh, picking up Keith’s empty dished.

“Thank you for that,” he said. “I wouldn’t mind it if you kept an eye on Keith, but try to get some rest. You’re sick, too, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lance said, flopping against his pillows. “Just don’t defend the universe without me.”

The castle was silent when Lance woke up, the lights of the med bay dim, just barely bright enough to see the room. Lance sat up, his mouth dry, and glanced over at Keith in the cot next to him. Keith’s face was troubled, and he was murmuring incoherently. “Don’t- don’t hurt him!” Keith cried, a dip forming between Lance’s eyebrows. It felt wrong to wake up Keith, but at the same time it felt even more wrong to let Keith continue his nightmare. Lance reached over, softly shaking Keith’s shoulder. Keith bolted up, breathing heavily and a wild look in his eyes. He calmed down, and the fear in his eyes turned to anger.

“Why did you wake me up?” he whined. “I was sleeping.” Lance saw that his decision might not have been the best one. Keith was sick and angry, not the best combination.

“You were having a nightmare!” Lance said in defense. “What was it even about?” The blood rushed to Keith’s face and he turned around, staring daggers at the blank wall.

“None of your business,” Keith muttered. “Just let me sleep.” Lance didn’t need to know that whenever Keith closed his eyes the same image kept repeating over and over in his mind; Lance chained to the wall, Haggar blasting him with quintessence as Lance’s face contorted with pain.

“Fine,” Lance grumbed. “Last time I try to help you.” Shiro could look after Keith himself. The only thing in Lance’s mind at the moment was sleep. He heard coughing coming from Keith, and he bit back a yell. “Can’t you be any quieter?”

“No, Lance, I can’t,” Keith snapped, his voice rough. “Just put a pillow over your head or something.” Letting out a puff of air Lance grabbed a pillow from underneath his head, sticking it over his ear. He could still hear Keith’s coughing but it was muffled, and it sounded like it was coming from a great distance. Normally Lance couldn’t sleep with any noise but his fever made it impossible to stay awake for long and soon he was falling into a fitful sleep.

It was hard to say how long Lance slept for but when he woke up he felt rested, his limbs feeling less achy and his body feeling less cold. He slid out of bed, testing his feet. His legs seemed normal and hope blossomed in his chest. Maybe the worst of this alien virus was over. His eyes wandered to Keith to find the boy still asleep, a lock of black hair falling in his eyes. Sounds of productivity came from different parts of the castle but Lance decided to let Keith wake up on his own. After all, he hated to be woken up.

The floor was cold underneath Lance’s feet as he wandered the castle, trying to find one of the other members of team voltron. They seemed to be spread out, telling Lance that the day would be quiet. Eventually he found Shiro in his room, making his bed. His room was sparkling clean, his few possessions organized. “How are you feeling?” he asked, pressing his hand to Lance’s forehead. “I think your fever has gone down.”

“I’m feeling better,” Lance responded.

“Keith?”

“He was having a nightmare last night so I woke him up. I’m not sure how he’s doing now.”

“I should go check on him,” Shiro decided. He dropped one last pillow onto his bed, falling perfectly in the middle.

Keith was half awake when the two paladins reached him, his arm hanging exhaustedly over the side of his cot.

“Hi,” he said weakly. Shiro opened his mouth but Keith interrupted his with “before you ask, I’m not feeling any better.” Shiro chuckled.

“I’m not that predictable, am I?”

“Yes, you are,” Keith muttered. He eyed Lance skeptically. “Why do you look so good?”

Lance could make a million jokes with that single sentence, but responded with “just lucky, I guess. Or maybe it’s just how good-looking I am.” It was a horrible joke, Lance knew, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Get out,” Keith snarled, throwing a pillow at Lance’s head. He ducked and it spiraled past him, hitting the far wall. If Keith could throw that far he couldn’t be too sick. He would be just fine.

Not Dead Yet (Part 21)

*Thank you all for 200 followers! Here’s a special treat. This gonna be good.*

Pairing: Reader x Peter Pan

Warning: mild language


The next couple of days was like walking on eggshells. Peter and Felix weren’t speaking to each other and it affected the entire camp. What should have been a joyous return had turned sour far too quickly. The boys looked to me for answers but I could give them none. This was a problem that needed to be worked out amongst themselves. Felix was a devoted Lost Boy, Peter’s best friend. This surely couldn’t last that long.

As it turned out I was right for a change. One morning Felix and Peter were as thick as thieves once again. “Glad to see they worked things out,” Devin nodded to them, “What was it that had them against each other in the first place?”

“If I could tell you I would.” I sighed, “I’m just glad it’s over. Those two as enemies doesn’t work.”

“It was uneasy. Can you really not tell me anything? Anything at all?”

“It’s Peter, you know I can’t.”

“That’s another thing. When did you start calling him Peter?” I clammed up immediately. Since getting back I had gone back and forth between calling him Peter and Pan. Back at camp I was used to calling him Pan but after our time by ourselves calling him Peter slipped out. I know I asked to call him by his first name but the boys didn’t know that. All they knew was that I was acting far chummier with him than even Felix dared.

“What really happened in the Enchanted Forest?” he pressed.

“I–I can’t!”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both!”

“What happened that you can’t tell me? I thought I was your best friend.”

“You are!”

“Then why can’t you trust me?”

“I do! You know I could trust you with anything.”

“Then trust me!”

“Come on,” I pulled him up and dragged him deep into the jungle. When we were in the least trodden part of the jungle I stopped. Peter couldn’t follow me everywhere but I was still worried he might emerge from thin air.

“What I am going to tell you is told in the strictest confidence. You breathe a single word of this to anyone or even back to me after this time I will toss you into the mermaid lagoon with a boulder tied to your feet! Understand?”

“Yes, yes, now what happened in the Enchanted Forest?”

So I told him. Not everything but more than I know I should have dared. How I had gotten into some trouble and tried to run away with a magic bean and how Peter had chased after me, the long talks we shared and the fun we shared. Even so I couldn’t tell him exactly what we talked about or just how much fun we had. Those were memories for Peter and I alone.

“So that’s all it took? A couple days alone and you two are as cozy as hares in a hollow.” Devin chuckled, “How does that happen?”

“I wouldn’t say that’s all it took and we are not cozy. We’re friends at the most, nothing cozy about it. Why would you say it’s cozy?” I shot defensively.

“Well, you two do act far nicer to each other than I’ve ever seen you before.”

“Nice doesn’t equal cozy.”

“Maybe nice doesn’t but the way you two are always reclining on each other is. Also how you’ll jump on him like you do with us and the way he picks you up out of nowhere, it is very intimate behaviour.”

“Intimate? We’ve gone from cozy to intimate? How and why?”

“I’m just telling you what it looks like. Is there possibly something else that went down while you two–”

“No! Nothing happened!” He started smiling at me. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I just didn’t peg you for the type.”

“What type? What are you talking about?”

“The rumour going around.”

“What rumour?”

“Well there’s this rumour, not really a rumour more like a whispering that you and Pan weren’t missing but rather on holiday.” he was avoiding meeting my eyes, “That you two were away for some extended time alone.”

“The boys think we were gone because we were…” I felt like I was going to puke. “Why do they think that?”

“I–I don’t know, honest. I heard it from Sam who said he heard it from Curly who said he overheard Pan telling Felix that the real reason you were gone was for you-know-what.”

“I am going to kill him.” I stormed off. I could feel my skin tingling with just how mad I was right now. I do everything for him. I keep his secrets. I let him know he could trust me as a friend and how does he repay me? To reduce me down to nothing but a shag!

“PETER!” I shouted to the sky.

The air shifted and Peter was now standing in front of me, “You had better have cut yourself with dreamshade to order me here. I was just about to beat Nibs in–”

I socked him in the stomach with my club. He dropped down to his knees. I clenched his face in my hand so hard I was shaking. “You complete and utter shithole!”

“I’m sure you’re right but may I ask why?” He let out a long wheeze. “I think you broke something.”

“Maybe it’ll give you some good incentive to not lie to me.” I dug my fingernails into his cheek and tilted his head up so he was staring straight at me, “Why is it there’s a rumour going around that the real reason we were missing was because we were off having sex?”

“Ah…” he pried my hand off, “About that–”

“Why?!” I screeched, “What was so wrong with the explanation I gave the boys?”

“Nothing.” Peter stood to his full height again, “But Felix didn’t buy it, you know he didn’t. I knew I couldn’t have him against me so I gave him a more believable version.”

“Believable?” I turned my club over in my hands, “You couldn’t win back his respect so you threw me under? You didn’t give a second thought about reducing me to nothing but one of your flings! Let me get this straight right now, I am not one of your whores that you can play off so easily. I have worked too hard to earn these boys’ respect and I am not going to let your pride ruin that!”

“It wasn’t like I meant for all the others to hear.” he groaned, “Plus, I hardly doubt that them believing we had sex for a week is going to make them respect you any less.”

“You really aren’t getting it are you?” I shook my head, “If we really had then maybe I would think about this a little differently. After all as you’ve proven we all have carnal needs and there shouldn’t be any shame in sating those.”

This seemed to surprise him and he took a step forward, “So then…what’s the problem?”

“It’s a lie! If it was true I could at least wear it without any shame cause girls get urges too and the fact that I sated mine on you says a little more than you just coercing me into bed.”

“I prefer the term seducing–”

“I don’t give a damn what you prefer!” I shoved him angry tears rushing hot out of my eyes, “You took everything we did, the friendship we created back in the Enchanted Forest, and morphed it into nothing! Is that all I am in the end? Just a means to your ends like everyone else?”

“Of course not.” he reached for me but stopped when I flinched away. “What do you want me to do? I can’t exactly take it back, no one would believe me at this point.”

“Nothing. Just leave me alone. You got your second in command back you obviously don’t need me.” I began to leave when his arms wrapped around me pulling me back. I struggled against him trying to push him away but he wouldn’t let me go. I reached for my dagger but he beat me to it and threw it away along with my club.

“Let me go!” I screamed, “I don’t want to talk to you!”

“Not until you say you forgive me.” he murmured in my ear.

“I’m not playing this game with you!” I kicked hard at his shins, “I am not a pawn in your stupid games!”

He pushed me into a tree pressing me with his body so I couldn’t fight back. “I mean it! Let me go!”

“No. You need to say you forgive me first.”

“Why do you care if I forgive you?”

“Cause you’re my friend!” he stressed and I paused my struggling. He was staring at me intently. “You’re my friend, Y/N. I have always found you strong and dedicated and smart with an iron-will and bravery that goes often into brash stupidity. You know I’d never put you in a situation I didn’t think you could handle. Felix may be my second in command and a good friend but you’re the one that I trust the most. I know this because even though I know I can make you hate me, utterly despise me, you would never betray what I confided in you with or without the looming death threat.”

The words struck hard. I wanted to not believe him. To call him a liar and run but that would have been the lie. That pleading look in his eyes was more proof than I needed. “So, do you forgive me now?”

My arms went slack at my sides. “Can’t you just let me hate you?”

He smirked at me in triumph, “Where would the fun be then?” He stepped back to let me go.

I collected my things from the ground. Peter was still standing by watching me. My heart was still beating quickly in my chest. While my blood was up I turned back to him and pulled him down to peck his lips. We stared at each other in shock. What had I just done?

“W-Well,” he cleared his throat, “Just can’t keep your hands off me. Care to explain what that was about?”

That is a great question! Do I have an answer that makes sense? Anything at all? “I um…” I took a deep breath, “I am not a liar. If the boys want to believe their silly notions about me then so be it but I will not have those notions be false.”

He smirked wider at me as if he had one some grand prize. “Don’t go getting a bigger head than you already have.” I grinned back, “If the boys want to believe this rumour then I am not going to stop them. But I would rather have some weight to those rumours outside of a drunken make out.”

He gave a short laugh. “Is that all it took? Some sincere words and a rumour and you’re seduced?”

“I wouldn’t say seduced. Especially not to the point to want to crawl into bed with you but this wouldn’t be objected.” I leaned closer but he was the one to close the distance as he kissed me back, “You may act like an insufferable codfish but you certainly don’t kiss like one.”

“Nor do you Lost Girl.” He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me back in. “Nor do you.”

~~~

Peter hadn’t expected this. Especially not from Y/N. After their wine induced make out back in the Enchanted Forest he was sure that was the start and end of it. But she just kept surprising him. First with the rough kiss the morning after and now this? One moment she’s yelling at him and the next she’s throwing herself at him. Just more to add to her contradictory character he supposed. She was certainly being all kinds of bold lately and he was not going to complain.

Try as he might have Peter couldn’t deny that Y/N was an attractive girl. Maybe not entirely in the traditional sense as she was a Lost Girl. She wore battered and ragged clothes stained with mud and grass and blood, and no matter how many dips in the pond she took there was always dust on her face. But it was the wild tangle of her hair and the dark underlying danger and bloodlust in her eye that made her attractive. She was like a viper. If you got too close you had two options, run like hell before she struck or reach out and pray she didn’t bite.

He had reached out and she had struck just not in the way he thought she would. Rougher this time and way more passionate than before his lips melded against hers. Both his hands were now wound tightly in her hair looking for a tether. She let out a small gasp and his tongue slipped between her lip into her mouth tasting her deeper.

He groaned against her lips. Whatever rational thought he had flew out the window as he soaked her in. Her smooth skin, her warm body, the sweet taste of her lips and the soft thread of her hair.

“Peter…” she whispered in a husky voice he hadn’t heard before that caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end.

“Shush,” he claimed her lips again, “For right now don’t say a thing.”

And she didn’t. Overhead the sky grew clear and the sun shone brighter than it had before. It was a romantic sight to those who didn’t know better. They knew though. And there was one thing for certain that was screaming in both their minds: things were never going to be the same between them again.


(Part 1) (Previous) (Next)

What Matters - Ch 3

By the time a physician came out to the sisters, Rosaline was still pacing in a desperate attempt to keep herself awake.  Livia gently grasped her wrist to catch her attention, and fear turned the eldest sister’s stomach when she took in the exhaustion written into every line of the man’s face.  “Sir Montague?”

“He is lucky to be alive, milady, but he is alive.  We have work to do yet, and he has not awoken…but I am confident that he is strong enough to continue fighting.”

Tears slipped unbidden past Rosaline’s lashes, and she squeezed his hand.  “Thank you, Cerimon.  I can imagine it is not easy to set aside our family name to save him, but-”

“Not all Capulets wish the Montagues dead, Rosaline.  You are a testament to that yourself, milady…I have seen Benvolio attempt to keep the peace between houses on more than one occasion.  Besides, I could not bear to see milady grieving any more were there anything to be done to prevent it.”  He glanced back over his shoulder when his companion called for his return.  “Forgive me.  As I said, there is still much to be done for your betrothed.  We will inform you of any changes.  You should rest.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. Livia squeezed her wrist again, standing to draw Rosaline into a hug.  

“He is nothing if not stubborn, you have said as much yourself a dozen times, dear sister.  Now that you know of his condition, would you please sit and rest?”  Rosaline sighed heavily, finally allowing herself to feel the bone-deep weariness left in the wake of the evening’s events.  “Even if it is just here, where you can be woken the moment something arises.”

In lieu of a response, the elder sister drew back and settled herself onto one of the chairs nearest the door.  Unable to hold her exhaustion at bay any longer, sleep claimed her within moments.


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anonymous asked:

Hey friend I saw your post about memories and I went and read through a bunch of other ones and?? How do you?? Get memories? Mine just come to me randomly or stuff it's really hard for me to get anything

ooh I’ve been ready for the day I got an ask about this! 

Ok, so! Obviously, there’s general advice - going through the character’s canon in their media, looking at art or stories or videos or aesthetics made that relate to them, listening to music etc. etc.  and mostly I say this because these have worked for me too, though it’s pretty random.

But what I do specifically, that works for me pretty much on command (though I can’t do it all the time), is what I call the memory walk! It’s not my method really, it’s structured off of this method here. However, I’ve found that as I do it, it’s more successful when I personalize the process in a way that works for me, and pay attention to what works for me!!

So I’d advise reading through the original process to start with, but I can also tell you about my experience with it if that might help!!

I am going to say, though, the most important thing to remember for this process is to listen to your instincts and pay attention to how it goes. if you can’t seem to get things to work, you may need to try something different. If you feel like you’re doing it right then you probably are, but if you feel like something’s not adding up then you may need to address whatever it is that feels off and try again. 

Don’t try to overthink or force it, you’re more likely to block things off and get frustrated. Go with the flow and learn the cues your brain gives you so that you know when you’re doing the right thing.

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Just Like Her

A/N: This is my fic for @passionate-hedgehog‘s CM fic exchange!! My reader was @peytonnation who asked for a fic featuring Spencer or Emily. This takes place in the middle of season 6, several months after Emily has “died.” Also, the initial plan was to make this a reader insert, but I felt that it had a deeper impact at the end to give the character a name. You’ll see why ;)

—–

Three months. That’s how long it had been since she’d been gone. Three long months. 94 days. 2,256 hours. 135,360 minutes. That’s how long it had been since JJ had come out of that hospital room and delivered the news. Three months since he learned that one of his closest friends was no longer here. Struck down by a monster in her past. A monster who had come back to haunt her. A monster that they could have stopped if she had just told them.

But she didn’t. And now she was gone. Ripped from this world just like that. Ripped from his life in the blink of an eye. And I never got a chance to say good-bye.

Reid lost track of how long he had been lying on his back, staring at the same spot on the ceiling of his apartment as the room around him gradually got darker and darker. This was the first night in a long time that he’d actually been able to bring himself to go home after work. As much as JJ told him over and over again that she didn’t mind having him come over night after night, practically crying himself into exhaustion on her couch, he knew that he couldn’t intrude on her hospitality too much longer. Plus, it was just plain evil of him to force her to explain to a very confused, 2-year-old Henry why his Uncle Spencer was so sad all the time.

He needed to face the facts. Emily was gone. Just like his father. Just like Gideon. No. Not like them at all. His father and Gideon…they weren’t gone forever. They could always come back to him. Not that they ever would, but the option was still there. But Emily…Emily was never coming back. Emily was gone for good.

And I never got the chance to say good-bye.

A knock sounded at his apartment door, but he barely flinched. He already knew who it was. Garcia. Or Morgan. Or maybe even JJ. He knew they were only checking up on him because they cared. He knew they were concerned about him. And he knew that this hadn’t been easy on any of them either. Emily had been like a sister to Garcia. JJ was one of her closest friends. Morgan…Morgan had been her partner. Her protector. He was the one who had found her, bleeding out on the floor, barely conscious. He tried to save her. He had tried so hard to save her.

I should have been there with him, Reid thought bitterly. I should have been there to help her. Maybe then…I could have had a chance to say good-bye.

The knock sounded again, louder this time. Reid had half a mind to tell whoever was on the other side to go away and leave him alone. Although, he knew if he did that, it would just make them more adamant to come inside. And if Morgan was on the other side, he knew it would only be a matter of time before he kicked the door down. (He hadn’t been as sneaky as he thought he was being the other day when he asked if Reid had taken his needles back out again. Then again, Reid hadn’t been so convincing when he responded that he hadn’t even thought about doing dilauded again.)

“Hello? Dr. Reid? I know you’re in there.”

What the hell? That sparked Reid’s curiosity. The voice on the other side belonged to a woman, but it wasn’t Garcia or JJ who spoke. And he couldn’t think of any other woman who would come to visit him at this time of night. Or…ever for that matter. In fact, if he didn’t know any better, that voice almost sounded like—

Reid got up and crossed the room, opening the door. It took everything in him to not scream out in fright or perhaps even pass out. Because standing on the other side of the door was the practical spitting image of his dead best friend.

“Dr. Spencer Reid?” she asked, in a voice that both sounded exactly like Emily’s and yet…not like Emily’s.

“I…You…You’re…What…What is this?” Reid’s mind was reeling about a million miles a minute (even faster than it normally reeled). Completely a single thought seemed nearly impossible at this moment.

“I know what you’re thinking,” the woman replied. And Reid was about to redact that statement (the odds of her knowing that were extremely slim), he found himself struck dumb at the next words that came out of the woman’s mouth. “Emily sent me. She wanted me to give you something.”

“Y-You know Emily?” Reid asked, now noticing that, despite his initial reaction that this girl was the identical doppelgänger of his deceased friend, there were significant differences. She had the same dark, straight hair and the same chocolate brown eyes as Emily, but she was also shorter than Emily. Her face was slightly thinner and her figure was smaller than Emily’s. Yet, there was so much there that resembled his best friend, Reid had to restrain himself from reaching forward and enveloping this stranger into a hug.

“I do know Emily,” the woman replied. Her eyes fell slightly as she corrected herself. “Knew Emily. We spent a lot of time together as kids. Our parents were both ambassadors so we traveled a lot. A familiar face doesn’t come along often in that line of work so…it was nice to have her.”

“Why…Why have we never met you before?” Reid asked. “Who are you?”

“My name is Christine and that’s all you need to know,” she replied. “Emily and I hadn’t really seen each other in a while and…when I got news of what happened…” She stopped abruptly, and Reid swore he saw tears sparkling in her eyes before she hastily wiped them away.

“Anyway,” Christine continued quickly. “Emily contacted me not too long ago, shortly after she suspected Doyle might be coming after her. She suspected she might have to go into hiding or…something.” Again, she trailed off, her breath catching slightly in her throat. “She said that there might not be time to explain everything so, if that was the case, I was supposed to come to this address and deliver this to you: Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Even with how fast his mind worked, Reid was still having trouble processing all of this. Not only that, but he still couldn’t get past how much this girl reminded him of Emily. Everything from her look, her voice, even her manner of speaking…it was just like her. However, he forced himself to focus as he saw her holding out an envelope for him. Emily’s handwriting was scrawled across the front—his first name and nothing else.

“I think she just wanted a chance to say good-bye,” Christine finished.

Now Reid was the one furiously fighting back tears as he took the envelope from her, examining it. Inside was a letter. A letter from her. Words from her. One last little bit of Emily for him to hold onto. A chance to say good-bye.

“Thank you for this,” Reid said, hearing his voice shake. “It…It means a lot.”

Christine nodded. “I could tell that you two were very close,” she said. “Emily talked about you all the time.”

At this, Reid buried his face in his hand in an effort to keep the sobs at bay. Once he had managed to compose himself, he finally looked back up at her, and for a split second, he saw Emily standing across from him, smiling that smile he loved and missed so much. He almost thought about asking this mystery girl to stay or maybe even meet up sometime later. It was clear that she had also loved Emily a great deal, and it might be nice to talk with someone other than his team about what had happened. He had a feeling that they were quickly edging into the territory of avoiding the subject for fear that it would bring on too much pain.

However, before he could ask her anything, she took a deep breath and said, “I actually need to head out. I just wanted to give that to you. I know Emily said you guys travel a lot for your job and I’m not going to be in town much longer.”

Reid nodded. “Thank you so much. This really does mean a lot.”

Christine smiled. “It’s nice to know that Emily had such good friends.” She buried her hands in her coat pockets. “It was lovely to meet you, Dr. Reid.”

“You as well,” Reid replied as she tucked a strand of her raven hair behind her ear and headed down the hallway. He watched her go until she had disappeared into the stairwell, still feeling like he had more questions than answers. However, all that was pushed aside as he looked down at the envelope in his hands. Now was finally the chance he would have to say good-bye to Emily.

——-

As Christine made it back to her car, it took her a moment to compose herself, fighting against the tears and the sobs brewing in her throat. She knew why Emily was doing what she was doing. And she knew why her team couldn’t know that she was still alive. But making her deliver that letter, finally putting a face to go with this mysterious Dr. Reid she had heard so much about, seeing the pain in his eyes as he mourned the loss of one of his dearest friends—it was almost enough to make her go back upstairs and tell him the whole truth.

She fingered the golden locket around her neck, running her finger over the ornate letter “C” carved in the front. She remembered when they had both received these for Christmas—C for Christine and E for Emily—and though Emily may have stopped wearing hers years ago, Christine never took her own off.

“Oh sis, I hope you know what you’re doing,” she muttered under her breath. And then, before she had a chance to blow everything once and for all, Christine Prentiss dried her tears, took a deep breath, and pulled out of the parking lot.

April 23, 2017: Verge, Mark Doty

Verge
Mark Doty

A month at least before the bloom
and already five bare-limbed cherries
by the highway ringed in a haze
of incipient fire
                     —middle of the afternoon,
a faint pink-bronze glow. Some things
wear their becoming:
                               the night we walked,
nearly strangers, from a fevered party
to the corner where you’d left your motorcycle,
afraid some rough wind might knock it to the curb,
you stood on the other side
of the upright machine, other side
of what would be us, and tilted your head
toward me over the wet leather seat
while you strapped your helmet on,
engineer boots firm on the black pavement.

Did we guess we’d taken the party’s fire with us,
somewhere behind us that dim apartment
cooling around its core like a stone?
Can you know, when you’re not even a bud
but a possibility poised at some brink?

Of course we couldn’t see ourselves,
though love’s the template and rehearsal
of all being, something coming to happen
where nothing was…
                                   But just now
I thought of a troubled corona of new color,
visible echo, and wondered if anyone
driving in the departing gust and spatter
on Seventh Avenue might have seen
the cloud breathed out around us
as if we were a pair
of—could it be?—soon-to-flower trees.

==

On this day in:

2016: Ever, Meghan O’Rourke
2015: The Two Times I Loved You the Most In a Car, Dorothea Grossman
2014: May Day, Phillis Levin
2013: The Triumph of the Infinite, Mark Strand
2012: Mermaid Song, Kim Addonizio
2011: the laughing heart, Charles Bukowski
2010: from Jenny, Genya Turovskaya
2009: A Step Away From Them, Frank O’Hara
2008: Entry, Lisa Sewell
2007: Meanwhile, Richard Siken
2006: Preface to a Twenty Volume Suicide Note, Amiri Baraka
2005: Holy Sonnet XIV, John Donne

Heith Week 2k17
Day 4; July 18th - dreams/reality
Also on my AO3
Will be queuing all my days since I’ll be working too much to post all my fics but all the chapters will be posted on my AO3 as well because I might end up forgetting!!

Ever since he was a kid, Hunk has had the habit of having bad dreams. He’s had them since he’s been born; tossing and turning in his beds as he grew up, waking up crying and screaming, sometimes wetting the bed from the fright. He got over that last one, and his parents tried what seemed like everything to try to keep their son sleep more peacefully. Switching beds, switching mattresses, getting a new bed set entirely. Getting a night light, reading him bed time stories. Warm milk and cookies before he went to bed sometimes worked but not always. They tried whatever they could to help him, when his grandmothers on his fathers side and his mothers side suggested a dream catcher. They had helped Hunk choose the perfect one and hung it right over his bed.

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coin-in-the-wishing-well  asked:

Er, I'm new to this ask buisness, but I was wondering-- Do you think you could go a canon divergence, (maybe with a little coldwave thrown in there), where the Waverider crew ends up in Gotham?

By an overwhelming three votes to zero, here’s the Mick-with-friends short fill I mentioned :) @coin-in-the-wishing-well, I hope you don’t mind that it’s a bit Mick-centric!

AO3 Link

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Nate chants.

“It’s okay,” Sara says, though she sounds a little nervous herself. “It’s just Gotham.”

“It’s Gotham,” Nate hisses.

“What’s the matter with Gotham?” Amaya asks.

“Gotham has the largest supervillain population in the United States,” Nate says. “Worst of the worst. The real crazies. Poison gas, fear gas, acid, killer plants – basically, if humanity has had a nightmare about it, it’s probably shown up in Gotham. Which we’re currently stuck in!”

“But, you know, maybe by now…”

“We crashed in 2020,” Stein says. “As of 2016, Gotham was getting worse, not better. Gideon, the supervillain population in Gotham –”

“2020 is the height of the supervillain boom,” Gideon says cheerfully.

“…great.”

“We’re gonna die,” Nate says. “Of all the cities we had to crash into…”

“We just need to get one part to fix the ship and we’ll be able to get out of here,” Ray argues. “In, out, no problem.”

“Has that ever happened?” Jax asks skeptically.

“…it could,” Ray says.

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Christmas Present Exchange

Request: Can you do a Christmas one?

Your name: submit What is this?

Your family was one of those families that went all out for Christmas.  The decorations were put up the morning after Thanksgiving with Christmas music blasting through the house 24/7.  

You couldn’t complain, Christmas was one of your favorite holidays.  You loved the atmosphere that surrounded the holiday season and the Christmas movies playing all day was a blessing.  But your favorite thing about Christmas was going out and buying gifts for your friends and family, and then seeing their reactions when they open their gifts.

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