i spent couple of days doing it

finally this monster is finished. i spent several days just trying to get the line art finished not because it was hard, but i was just being so painfully sluggish. and it took another couple days and lots of flopping between my old and decrepit version of photoshop, and then sai, to get the lighting tweaks correct.

there’s still some stuff i’m not perfectly satisfied with, but given that i NEVER do environments or mood lighting, i’m happy. so please enjoy this contribution of mine to the ship of our hearts TTwTT9

domestic couple starters

  • “you forgot to take the trash out again.”
  • “do you think we should just order in tonight?”
  • “what’s the point of making the bed if we’re just gonna mess it up?”
  • “will you pick up your clothes? it’s like a pig-sty in here.”
  • “you cooked, it’s only fair that i clean.”
  • “i haven’t shaved in like a week.”
  • “let me run you a bath.”
  • “you used all the hot water.”
  • “oh come on, i just cleaned the kitchen!”
  • “can you stop using my bath bombs? they’re expensive.”
  • “dinner was ready a half hour ago.”
  • “you cooked me dinner?”
  • “i had to carry you to bed last night, you were exhausted.”
  • “do you even know how to load a dishwasher?”
  • “your red sock turned all my whites pink.”
  • “what’s with the hat? are you having a bad hair day?”
  • “we’ve spent too much on pay per view this month.”
  • “are you watching porn?”
  • “next time it’s your turn to do the dishes.”
  • “my parents are coming over for dinner tomorrow.”
  • “play hooky and let’s sleep in tomorrow.”

Eight Months (part II).

You had been with Harry for two years when things started to go wrong. Like all normal couples, you had petty arguments and they usually ended with the both of you apologising profusely to each other and buying each other small gifts for forgiveness, but that was it. It never went any further than that, until the night you broke up.

You knew things had been wrong for a while, even though it hurt to admit it. Although you accepted Harry’s career, it was hard to be apart for months at a time. You both struggled to fit time around each other because of work and studying commitments, but you could both decided that you could and would handle anything life threw at you. Skype and FaceTime were your life savers and you used them whenever and wherever you could.

But in time, Harry became distant. He forgot little details about you; he forgot the smell of your perfume, he forgot about the little strands of hair that you could never tie back properly, and it was like he forgot how much he loved you. He soon started to forget about events that were taking place. Whilst you knew and understood that he couldn’t attend such events including your swimming gala and dancing competition because of the tour, he never bothered asking how they went. Instead, conversations that were once filled with passion and love, both interested and eager to learn about each other’s days, soon turned into silence down the phone, the occasional murmur here and there, before hanging up.

*

The clock ticked and the kitchen tap dripped and the rain pattered against the window. The tears rolling down your cheeks however, were silent, and the only noise your body could muster up was the occasional snuffle.

To say you were upset was an understatement. It was your birthday, and whilst it had never bothered you before dating Harry, you were now absolutely gutted that it coincided with London Fashion Week. Celebrities from all around the world had flown in and much to your dismay, that included Kendall, who attended with Harry.

When you had awoke that same morning, you thought maybe Harry was playing a trick on you, and that he was only pretending to have forgotten your birthday and would soon surprised you, but nothing. You had searched the apartment from top to bottom but to no avail, you found no hidden presents or anything that indicated a surprise for you. If you were honest, you didn’t really care for gifts or surprises; to spend the day with Harry was enough for you. But here you were, sat alone in the kitchen, whilst he was being paid to spend his precious time with another woman.

*

“It was a bit of a dick move, mate” Louis tells his best friend.

Harry sighs and shakes his head. “You think I don’t know that?!” he exclaims as he leaves the shop with the flowers he had placed on order as soon as he realised he’d fucked up. “These are alright, yeah? They’re all her favourites combined” he adds, gesturing to the beautiful bunch.

“H, I think it’s going to take more than a bunch of roses and lilies and whatever else is in there to make it up to her this time. She doesn’t expect a lot from you, you know that. She’s the least high maintenance chick I know. Hell, even Eleanor expects more from me than what (Y/N) does from you! I take El away for her birthday every year, we always do something nice. I wouldn’t dream of spending it with another woman” Louis tells his friend firmly.

“Fuck off!” Harry spits. “Management are the ones paying me, not you!”

“Whatever mate, but it’s your funeral. Didn’t you spend an evening with Cara a few weeks ago, when it was supposed to be a date night for you and (Y/N)? If you’re not careful, you’re going to lose her. Someone else will come along and treat her the way that you should be doing it now. Is that really what you want?” he asks.

*

“I don’t know how many more times I can apologise, baby” Harry begins, but you quickly hold up your hand in protest to stop him.

“Don’t!” you warn firmly.

Harry throws the flowers down on the table after your refusal to accept them. He shrugs his shoulders at your harsh tone. “What do you mean, ‘don’t’” he asks, quoting you.

You let out a sarcastic laugh. “Baby? You really think that by calling me pet names that I’m going to run into your arms and forgive you for forgetting my birthday, and worse, spending it with Kendall, of all people! How many other girls are you calling ‘baby?’”

“Oh don’t be so ridiculous, (Y/N)! I’m in a relationship with you, not anyone else!” Harry exclaims. “I’ve apologised, what more do you want me to do? Get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness?”

“There’s more than just us two in this relationship, Harry, and you know it. Me, you, management, Cara, Kendall. And that’s just to name a few! You’ve let me down so much the past couple of months. Do you even love me anymore?” you ask, dreading the answer as you softly chew your lip.

Harry scoffs. “Of course I fucking love you! I wouldn’t be standing here having this argument with you if I didn’t.” He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know what you want me to do or say, (Y/N).”

“It’s never going to change, Harry! Things will always be the same! You ‘forgot’ my birthday and you spent the day with Kendall. You ‘forgot’ our date night and you spent the evening with Cara. I know it’s what the media want and expect from you, and I know management want you to do this, but I think you want to as well” you sigh, the words you had held for so long in your mouth now finally spilling out.

“You’re joking, right? That was a joke? You seriously think I want to spend any spare time I have with Kendall or Cara over you? Management need me to do this, if I don’t, I can kiss goodbye to my pay cheque! Half the things I do in this job is for you! How the fuck else would you get the latest handbags and purses and shoes?! Who else is going to pay for your education? Because I don’t see you or your family offering to cough up!” he spits almost bitterly.

You gasp in shock at his words. He knew your financial situation at home and that your parent’s worked so bloody hard to provide for you, but it just wasn’t enough. Your future career depended on your qualifications, and those qualifications could only be acquired in higher education in which Harry had offered to pay for, before he knew anything about the money side of things.

“Really, Harry? That’s how you feel? You think I’m with you for the money? I don’t give a damn about the shoes or bags and purses or latest fashion trends. I love you because you’re my boyfriend and I see myself living the rest of my life with you. I don’t love you because you’re Harry Styles from One Direction!” you spit back, your words truthful.

“I’ve heard that one before” he tells you, his eyes averting to the floor.

“So now you’ve got trust issues with me? Other girls may have treated you like that in the past, but I’m not like other girls, Harry. Two years we’ve been together and you really think that of me? When you guys broke up as a band, and you didn’t know what was going to happen to your music career, who was the one sitting up with you every night holding you whilst you cried? Other girls would have run a mile because of the uncertainty of your future. I love you even if you have nothing!” you shout at him.

Harry shrugs his shoulders and bites his lip. “Look, it’s not even just this causing arguments. They’ve been going on for a while and maybe having Kendall and Cara as friends is something you can’t handle. But I can’t live my life like this anymore. I’m done arguing with you all the time” he tells you softly.

“You’re making it sound like I don’t want you having friends, which isn’t true. I want you to put me first, like you did at the start of our relationship. You would have done anything back then for me, Harry. I hate arguing with you too. Maybe if we arrange some sort of schedule and arrange dates in advance to see each other?” you suggest.

Harry shakes his head. “I think it’s too little too late, (Y/N).”

You frown, your bottom lip beginning to quiver as you ask the dreaded question. “Are you breaking up with me?”

Harry’s eyes avert to the floor once more and the silence between you both speaks more volumes than words ever could.

*

The first few months after the break up had been tough to say the least. You continued to work and study for the first couple, managing to get by. Once you finished work, you would go home and tuck yourself into bed and shut yourself away from the rest of the world. You neither needed or wanted any social interaction with anyone. You only wanted your own company, reminiscing over the fun times with Harry, overthinking each night what could have been done differently so as you wouldn’t be in this situation. Unfortunately, you could never answer that question. Nothing could have been done differently. You would have always ended up here.

A few months passed and life was getting a little easier, but the beauty of social media portrayed it to be a lot better than what it actually was. You were able to deceive your followers and the public that your life was good again because you were taking selfies at nightclubs and you were going out and having more fun. But you were still going back home to an empty bed with only a teddy bear to hold at night, whilst thoughts of Harry plagued your mind.

Within four months, you met someone new; Tom. You both met through mutual friends and instantly clicked. Whilst there was no original intention there, you quickly became friends. You took a few selfies, posting them onto social media sites, happier with your life. Tom was lovely; he was a young, handsome man, studying Law at the same university as you. He had ambition, as well as being fun, kind and caring, and within five months of the messy break up with Harry, you were officially dating Tom. Coffee dates, pumpkin picking, country walks, the typical couple dates that you would go on together, sharing your memories online.

You had plastered pictures of the two of you together all over social media by six months, but you weren’t portraying your life to be something it wasn’t. You were happy, genuinely happy, and whilst you weren’t in love with Tom, you loved him and could see yourself learning to be in love with him. The more time you spent with him, the more you learned about him, and the more you wanted to know him.

By the seventh month, things had changed. Tom had changed, and not for the better. You spent most of your time at his university flat with him, yet he still accused you of sneaking around behind his back, cheating on him. You would never cheat on anybody, it was against your principles and besides, you didn’t have the time to see anyone else between dating Tom, and going to work and studying. Small comments soon followed the accusations; he’d tell you that you needed to diet and join a gym, that you weren’t pretty enough or smart enough or good enough and that he could do better. Then he’d apologise and take you on a date and spoil you rotten. He would buy you flowers and gifts. “Please forgive me” he’d say. “I love you.” The next change was a push and shove here and there, moving you out of his way when he was angry. One night, he pushed you into a glass door. Your eyebrow split and you needed stitches. He vowed never to touch you like that again.

He lied.

Eight months into your relationship and Tom was putting his hands on you almost every night. No alcohol was involved, just his temper. Nothing warranted it, violence can never be condoned. Dinner wasn’t ready he got home? A slap across the face. His flat wasn’t tidy? A punch in the stomach. You went out with a friend? A black eye.

By this point, it was very difficult to maintain the lovely selfies you used to take. If you posted anything, it would be a cover up of how dreadful and controlled your life had become. You weren’t sure you could muster up the strength to even pretend that life was good anymore. Any bruises photographed would raise concerns and there would be unwanted comments posted on social media for the whole world to see, and you neither needed or wanted that. The less attention you drew to the situation, the better.

But tonight, nearing the end of eight months since breaking up with Harry, Tom had gone one step too far. The physical abuse was dreadful enough to experience and nothing condoned his disgusting behaviour, ever. Once your horrific ordeal was over, you ran. You refused to succumb to the darkness that had surrounded your limp body only moments ago. You ran as fast as your legs could carry you. You needed to get to a safe place. Somewhere close enough to get to, but safe all the same.

Harry.

He was all that was on your mind. How could he see you like this? Would he even be at home?  What if he was with another girl? Would he let you stay the night until things were sorted? Would he judge you? Would he pity you?

Oh, Harry.

You needed him. You weren’t sure that you could ever bring yourself to trust any other man in the world again, but Harry, you trust him with your life. He’s the only man you could ever trust, and your heart shattered into millions of pieces because the one man you really can trust, was also the same man who broke your heart eight months ago.

You pant hard, your heart threatening to pound out of your chest, but the adrenaline pumps around your body harder when you see the apartment alight. So close, so fucking close. As soon as you reach the door, there’s no hesitation in knocking hard and repeatedly. When there is nothing, you bang harder, your fists pounding at the door as tears stream down your face.

“Alright, I’m coming!” you hear his voice yell from inside the building and you know he’s getting closer to the door and your heart pounds harder and faster than ever before. He sounds angry, probably because it’s late and he’s probably working tomorrow but you need a safe space and right now, he’s the only person who can provide that for you.

It seems to take a lifetime, but the door is swung open and Harry’s demeanour changes within an instant. He goes from seemingly pissed off to looking like he’s about to vomit at the sight in front of him, with anger and pity and fear and worry evident in his eyes, emotions taking over his body.

“(Y/N)” he gasps out, catching your petite frame as you collapse into him. Wrapping his arms around you and embracing you tightly, he takes in your features, swallowing the lump formed in his throat. He know’s what’s happened to you and you know that he knows, and he knows that you know he knows, but for one split second as he holds you, no dialogue is needed.

I always thought it was funny that your player character in Pokemon is 10 years old. Like, yeah, they’re “anime ten” where they look at least 18 yadda yadda, but they’re still ten.

Imagine the people in the Pokemon League. These are fully grown adults, right? They’ve trained their entire lives to be the best trainers in their country. They’re the best of the best. And then a ten year old walks in. A high and mighty four foot tall ten year old with a big smile on their face walks in. They’ve never even seen a tity. They don’t know where babies come from. They’re ten.

How did this ten year old get in to your arena? Did they wander in here by mistake? They say they’re here to battle you. Aww, how cute. This kid wants to fight the big league trainers, so they snuck in to fight you. That’s cute and funny. You’ll tell the others about this next lunch break. You decide to humor the kid and accept their challenge. You toss out your level 50 Tyranitar. You and this Pokemon have spent decades together, you trained for ages to get it to Level 50. You’re the best trainer in the country.

The kid reaches on their belt and tosses a Master Ball. Wait, what? A Master Ball? How did that kid get a Master Ball? Out of the master ball pops…

God.

God popped out of the Master Ball. 

The very same God Pokemon that controls the flow of space, that you go to church and pray to every Sunday. 

This ten year old kid just pulled out a Master Ball and threw God at you. God is, in fact, Level 73. 

God shoots Hyper Beam at your life-long partner Tyranitar, causing it to evaporate in to dust. He’s fainted in one hit. The kid yawns.

The kid wipes your entire party of Pokemon, the Pokemon you spent most of your adult life training and caring for. You are stunned. You ask the trainer how long they’ve been doing this. They say “I started a couple of days ago.”

This kid is ten. 

Fever*

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
Featuring: Vision, Tony, Bucky, Thor, Clint and Natasha, Wanda, Rhodey (all three mentioned).
Rating: Explicit - 18+ only
Summary: Reader surprises Steve, throwing a 40’s themed party to celebrate his 99th birthday at the compound with the other Avengers’ complicity.
Word Count: 3.8k
Genre: NSFW/SMUT
Warnings: mild swearing, some fluff, mentions of alcohol/hangover, lingerie fetish [?], slight Dom!Steve, light dirty talking, oral sex (male receiving), uniform kink - (clothed sex), exhibitionism/outdoor sex, neck holding and semi-protected sex. - This fic assumes Reader is on the pill. [No glove, no love!]
Author’s Note: Happy birthday to the first successful - and our all time favorite - super soldier who turns 99 this year! xxx The title is a reference to Fever covered by Peggy Lee, which inspired me a lot when I wrote this. Enjoy.

   New Avengers Facility

Placing a hand on your hip, you stared at the ballroom decorations inspired from the forties. With the help of every Avenger, you’d spent the past couple days, working on the hall of the Avengers compound as your grandparents had also gladly gotten involved in your surprise for Steve’s birthday.

They’d told you everything they could remember about their time in that era and gave you the best indications on what you had to do to bring that famous portion of the twentieth century back into our modern times.

They remembered a lot and their help made everything look perfect. You were beyond grateful. From the improvised ballroom and the private quarters, everything was subtly decked out, and it looked like as though it was straight out of a movie set. The guests arrived in appropriate forties attire.

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2

Well, just like I promised 100 years ago, here is Yoosung and MC’s honeymoon in the happiest place on earth~! DISNEYLAND! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖° In which Yoosung spent the whole day letting the whole park know you are his wife~ ♡ Once again based on @zens-ponytail ’s amazing head canons.

Loki Imagine - Tortured

Your P.O.V.

A task as simple as breathing felt nearly impossible. My lips were open and I tried to breathe in, but barely any air entered my lungs. My throat was sore and I could taste the irony, disgusting flavor of blood on my tongue. 

It couldn’t end like this..

Desperately, I tried to crawl away from this dark place, who knows what it was. All I knew was that it was cold, so cold I couldn’t feel my bare feet anymore. It was also really dark but a light was somewhere there, far away. The ground beneath me was hard and it felt rough, like stones. 

I grabbed onto the ground, leaving bloody fingerprints after me as I did my best at getting myself out of this nightmare. My legs weren’t much help at all as I tried to kick myself further away. Everything hurt. I couldn’t name a spot on my body that felt fine.

‘‘No..’‘ I whimpered sadly, tears running down along my face. By now, my entire body was trembling. I was afraid I would die after that awful torturing. What if I’d never see Loki again?

‘‘L-Loki..’‘ I whispered my boyfriend’s name. It caused my heart to swell and a sob to escape my lips. It hurt. Oh, it hurt so much. As I used my last energy to move, I screamed. My fingertips started tingling and a little light appeared, highlighting only a few things around me. 

Yes, Loki had taught me a few little magic tricks but I wasn’t as near as good as him. As I was held captive, my hands had been inside some metal balls so I couldn’t use my powers. It was frightening. The things they did to me were even worse.

I tried to brush it off my mind, hoping I could focus on my escape. I shut my eyes and it was so tempting to just sleep. Yes, I wanted to push my boundaries, light up my path and get away from here but I couldn’t. I was exhausted. All this pain got the best of me.

The light vanished from my hands, fading into thin air with a few sparkles. I looked at them until it was completely dark, cold and quiet. My weak body was just left here to die, all alone. I thought of Loki, hoping he could be my last thought, although it broke my heart and soul to think about. 

  Just as I gave up hope, I heard footsteps. Fear crawled back to me as I opened my eyes. Were they here again to torture me? Would they take me back to that cold hellhole? 

I grunted in pain as I lifted my head and looked towards the light. I was lightheaded and my head was pounding terribly. Then I saw some people in front of the light. At first I thought there was just two people there but then a third one got ahead of them. For me, it was just a shadow because my vision was so blurry.

‘‘Y/N!’‘ A voice yelled but at first, I didn’t hear it quite well.My head hit the ground again because I was too weak to keep myself up. ‘‘Y/N!’‘ The person repeated themselves, sounding awfully familiar. The man had a raspy, deep voice. It filled me up with hope.

All of a sudden, I felt someone dragging me on their lap. My head rested against their shoulder and strong arms held onto me tightly. I forced myself to open my eyes and look at who it was, although I had my doubts. Immediately, I saw a pair of forest green eyes looking into mine. Then I saw his dark, long hair, his parted, pink lips. It was all confirmed in my mind then. It was Loki.

‘‘No, no,no…Y/N..how did this..happen..’‘ Loki muttered words underneath his breath as he examined me. He looked sad, which was awful to see. His eyes were glossy and honestly, Loki was shocked. So was I. But at the moment, I could barely keep my eyes open.

Loki looked at my barely clothed body, a look of disgust and anger appearing on his face. My entire body was bruised and I had deep wounds here and there. Dry blood had stained my skin and some wounds were still bleeding. Loki probably noticed the dark blue bruises, resembling fingerprints. He shook his head no as he let this all sink in.

Seeing Loki like that made me feel sorrowful and even guilty. My eyes felt heavy and I couldn’t fight it anymore. My heavy eyelids just slid down and I dosed off, a little more eased because I was in Loki’s arms.

***

It had been five days since Loki and his guards had found me. They had taken me to the castle and given me the help I needed. A maid had told me that Loki had used his magic to keep me alive. Although I woke up only a few minutes ago, I barely remembered how I woke up. Everything had been warm and comfortable. It’s like I was in my own little cloud.

But then maids had rushed to me and another one ran outside, probably to inform Loki. The warm feeling vanished and it was replaced my pain. I held my breath as I sat more comfortably on the bed I was on. As I looked around, I recognized that I was in Loki’s room. How strange. Where did he sleep if I was in a coma in his bed?

The maid beside me was telling me all kinds of things but after a while, I couldn’t pay attention anymore. I felt wistful. All I wanted was Loki. ‘’Miss Y/N, what’s wrong?’’ One of the maids asked me. I turned to look at her slowly. ‘’Where’s Loki?’’ I asked her quietly, my throat incredibly dry so it was hard to speak. 

‘‘He’s..’‘ She began but didn’t continue. Instead, she looked at a guard who stood by the door. It was confusing and I grew a little nervous. The guard nodded and the maid sighed, turning back to me. ‘‘Loki left four days ago. He and a few soldiers, also Thor went searching for whoever did this to you. We’re not sure when he’ll be back’‘ She let me know with her soft voice. It filled me with a dozen emotions. 

Tears stung my eyes once again. A shiver ran down my spine as I nodded and looked at my wounded hands. It all came back to me. The world around my closed and I could feel myself being in the cold room, chained to the wall as the monsters hurt me. It was so dark that I couldn’t see if they were Asgardian or out of this realm. 

‘‘Miss Y/N’‘ Another maid spoke, snapping me out of my flashback. I flinched as I looked at the blonde in front of me. ‘‘Loki will return soon. You must relax and heal’‘ She smiled at me. I knew her intentions were good but they kind of pissed me off as well. I just nodded politely and then leaned against the green and black pillows. They smelled like Loki, which made me feel a little bit better.

***

‘‘Is she awake?’‘ A rushed man asked someone, causing me to wake up once again. My eyes got used to the lights in the room quickly, because it wasn’t that bright. By just glancing outside, I could tell it was evening. The door opened, which caught my attention.

Loki walked into the room, making everyone else go out. My heart skipped a beat as I saw him. Loki was dressed in his golden armor with the green suit underneath. He dropped his headpiece on the floor, not caring about it at the moment.

‘‘You’re safe now’‘ Loki was the first one to speak. He tried to smile but it was a fake one. I nodded as my hot tears fell down my eyes. Loki magically made his armor vanish as he walked over to me. He got in the huge bed so he could be as close as possible.

For a moment, I didn’t care about my pain. I had been asleep for five days so I considered that enough rest. So I wrapped my arms around Loki’s waist and held onto him tightly. Loki wasn’t the type of man to fall for anyone or be this sensual nor caring. He spent such a long time of his life being alone and misunderstood that I was surprised he let me in.

It took him a couple seconds to hug me back. It felt good to be in his arms. He pulled me on his lap once again, which he liked to do. That’s when I let myself weep, allowing the tears to escape. Loki held me as I cried my heart out in his arms. But it was good to let out all that pain. I had been terrified and the worst part of it all was that I feared I’d never see Loki again.

‘‘They can’t ever..hurt you again, little one. I took care of them’‘ Loki whispered to me as I started to calm down. Of course, I knew what he meant by that. Loki wouldn’t have been pleased to see them in jail. He had taken matters into his own hands and killed them. Who knows how Thor let him do that, but we could discuss that later.

‘‘Thank you’‘ I whimpered and then looked up to him. I got a good look of him for the first time. He had dark circles underneath his eyes, messy hair and tears gathered in the corners of his pretty eyes. I cupped his face and then took a deep breath.

‘‘I thought I lost you’‘ Loki admitted quietly, almost like he didn’t want me to hear it. Hearing such words leaving his mouth was hard. It made my heart ache. ‘‘And I thought I’d never see you again’‘ I replied as quietly, now unnoticingly playing with his black, messy hair. I still loved the way he looked. 

I just had to understand that I was safe with him again.

I Know Your Wife (She Wouldn’t Mind) - Part Thirty-Six

Summary: Things are tense after your secret is revealed but, by the time you get to NOLA, everything seems to be getting better. When Jared wakes up on your birthday, he realises that might not be the case.
Words: 4k
Jared x Reader x Gen, Jensen, Danneel, Gino, JJ, Dallas (OC)
Warnings: angst
Beta: birthday girl @blacksiren

Your name: submit What is this?

You and Dallas stayed in Vancouver while everyone else went back to Texas that weekend.

The original plan was for you to go down with them, putting Bailey in the kennels so you could all go to Austin City Limits, but you just weren’t in the mood.

You’d been sleeping on the couch for the last few days, despite Jared and Gen’s insistence that you should come to bed with them. You just couldn’t bring yourself to join them.

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Costume Sentence Starters

Happy Halloween! Send my muse a reaction to seeing them in a costume, whether positive or not so positive. 

Wait. We were supposed to dress up?”
“You look…adorable!”
“Ah! J-jeez, I didn’t even recognize you!”
“Ugh, you know I hate that mask!”
“Are you really going to go out like that?”
“I don’t know. I think we’re a bit too old to dress up.”
“You don’t think it’s a little too revealing?”
“I don’t have to match, do I?”
“I’m not so sure about our theme this year.”
“Oh shit, I didn’t get a costume for myself!”
“How do you still look beautiful in zombie makeup?”
“Okay, I admit, I like it.”
“You know what would look good with that costume? Fire. Burn it.”
“I think you might offend someone with this.”
“What are you even supposed to be?”
“Wow. Maybe we should stay home and have our own party.”
“You know, it’s not really a costume if you just dress like yourself.”
“Ooh, I love your costume!”
“Wow, how creative, you look like a normal person for once!”
“Well, it’s certainly original.”
“How much fake blood did you use?!”
“Whoa. You really went all out this year.”
“This isn’t a costume. You’re just wearing a pair of cat ears.”
“I feel like there’s an inside joke here but I don’t get it.”
“Honestly, you’re terrifying.”
“You look way too incredible to wear this for only one day.”
“You look like something that crawled out of hell and I love it.”
“I’m going to be seeing you in my nightmares. Thanks for that.”
“Are you serious? I was going to be the same thing!”
“Please don’t make me dress up.”
“I’ll go with you, but I don’t do couple costumes.”
“I think you spent more on the dog/cat’s costume than your own.”
“Wow, did you make this yourself?”
“I think this costume really reflects who you are as a person.”
“Your costume is ten times better looking than mine.”
“This is the most elaborate costume I have ever seen.”
“Why are you wearing a trash bag as a costume?”
“Did you just steal my clothes to dress up as me for Halloween?”

I finally got my YoI OST in the mail this week and have spent the last couple days paying close attention to the mix of piano and strings in the different tracks, knowing that in Yuri on Ice the piano represents Yuuri and the strings represent Victor.

They do that throughout the entire series, y’all. It’s probably common knowledge to most of the fandom, but I never noticed it before. I was too busy paying attention to the action to listen to the music. It’s fucking me up. 

Like At the Airport, for example. I just watched that scene while paying close attention and while Yuuri is by himself in Moscow and Fukuoka before running into Victor’s arms, it’s only piano. The strings come in the moment Yuuri pulls back from Victor’s hug to say, “Please take care of me until I retire”. The next prominent swell of strings happens when Victor says, “I wish you’d never retire”.

Originally posted by whovian-on-ice

Fuck me up and shoot me into the sun, MAPPA.

Reminiscence (Calum imagine)

Summary: You spend Valentine’s Day reminiscing

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: This has to be one of my favourite things that I’ve ever written :) Please pay attention to the dates and times! It begins in the present, and then there are a series of flashbacks. They’re all in chronological order for ease of reading, but please pay attention to the timings if you’re unsure!

This is for @calumsbicth and @calsdream‘s Valentines!5sos blurb night!

Originally posted by hemmoxhood96

Present day, Valentine’s Day

With a cream envelope held between your fingers, you can’t prevent the smile from spreading across your lips. A greying memory slips into your mind, your eyes fluttering to a close as you let yourself get taken away to the land of fantasies.

Valentine’s day, two years ago, 1pm

“Y/N!”

At the sound of your name, you looked up.  You were in a park, sitting on a picnic blanket. Surrounding you were hundreds of tiny daisies, scattered amongst the green grass like a sprinkling of icing sugar.

“Hmm?” You looked across the blanket to see Calum, your boyfriend, with a wide smile spread across his face.

Keep reading

Forbidden Love | Pt. 6

▷ Jimin Angst

❥ “I think about you a little more than I should..”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Epilogue

Chuckling sarcastically, Jimin held his phone up in front of your eyes. “Look, you’re precious husband just texted me. He seems really worried about you. Don’t let him wait, you shouldn’t be talking to an useless person like me, Y/N.”

Not glancing at his phone, you tried to reach out for his hand but stopped when you saw how he backed away from you. “No, wait Jimin! I’m sorry-”

“Why are you doing this, Y/N?”

“What am I doing, Jimin?”

“Every time we see each other, you say that it’s the last time you’ve spent time with me. Then, after a couple of days, you come back, lie down in my arms as if nothing had happened and make me the happiest person in the world. Y/N, you make me fly again and then in a flash, you slam me back onto the ground every single time..”

Sadly, you looked into his eyes. He looked hurt, disappointed and broken. Seeing him like that, you wanted to wrap your arms around his body and tell him that you were sorry, that it breaks your heart to see him hurt like that because of you and that you loved him more than he could ever imagine.

“I don’t want to hurt anymore. I don’t want to cry anymore because of you, Y/N. Don’t come to me anymore. Don’t come to me whenever you’re sad or whenever you need someone to sleep with, Y/N. I don’t want to be your replacement anymore..”

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath. “Jimin, I love yo-”

Right before you could end your sentence, you heard someone clapping slowly. Turning your head to the sound, you locked your eyes with your husband and froze the minute you saw him approaching you both with a smirk plastered on his face.

Standing in front of you both, Taehyung glanced from you to Jimin, his hands now tucked into his pockets. “Wow, what a heartbreaking love story! I’m impressed!”

Not knowing what to say, you looked at Jimin and realized that he was looking at your husband with hateful eyes and a clenched jaw.

“Y/N,” hearing your husbands voice, you snapped your head towards him and a shiver went down your spine at the way he looked at you. “tell me, how is he in bed? Is he good? Better than I am? Or would you prefer us both together? Hm? Tell me.”

“Shut the fuck up, Taehyung!” you heard Jimin hiss through his gritted teeth.

Smirking again, Taehyung turned his head to his best friend. “Why? Do you feel uncomfortable? Poor Jiminie, let me tell you one thing. You’re missing out, my friend.”

You saw how Jimin clenched his hands beside his body. “What the fuck are you trying to say, Taehyung?! Just spit it out!”

Glancing at you once, Taehyung crossed his arms in front of his chest and clicked with his tongue. Turning his head back to his friend, he tilted his head slightly as he smirked at him and said the words that made you feel like you’ve been shot by a gun in the head.

“I must say, your wife is pretty good in bed too, my dear friend.”

anonymous asked:

Hey! Regarding the sixpenceee fiasco I've been reading her posts and stories for like years and it might just be because I usually skim but I don't recall any specific stories that target mental illness. Do you have any clear examples??? Rly shocked tbh bc I used to love her

I’ve been seeing the stuff go around for a couple of years now and I admit at first I didn’t pay it much attention, which is a shame because a lot of those call out posts had good links that are now all gone because of people deleting. As a result, a lot of the initial stuff that made me start thinking more critically about sixpenceee’s posts have been deleted. I’ve spent the last few days trying to source them again via people’s new urls and internet archives, but literally 90% of the links are gone.

So, I’ve done a bit of digging of my own, and I’ve managed to find some still live posts that I think illustrate what I’m saying a bit better. I’ve screencapped them all and will be hosting the images myself independently of a specific post, so the links should always work.

I’m specifically focusing on the content of this ask here, with posts that use mental illness as entertainment, or treat it in the same way as regular “creepy” (i.e. horror) content.

  • The case of Margaret Schilling is a post about a woman in a psychiatric hospital who died after getting lost in the building, and her body wasn’t found for many weeks. There is a short paragraph at the end about how the hospital is apparently haunted by Margaret now, but the majority of the post focuses on her being mentally ill and the suffering she must have felt being lost and dying of cold and exposure. There’s also a picture of the stain her decomposing body left, so beware of that. It’s tagged #paranormal.
  • The Mentally Ill Man Who Cured Himself With a Gun is a post about a man with serious OCD who tried to kill himself by shooing himself in the head, resulting in brain damage that “cured” his OCD. The photo is of a man with a gun to his head, if that will bother you. It’s tagged as a science post.
  • Short Creepy Story is a story from Reddit where the “creepy” event is a schizophrenic woman acting strangely because of her hallucinations. That’s it. Dude’s mum is schizophrenic and he goes upstairs to find her in the bathtub thinking she’s in The Little Mermaid. The title is “short creepy story” so like, yeah.
  • The Child Star is a story from Reddit which focuses on children being sexually abused and not understanding what’s going on, and the police interviews with one of the grown up children who is now clearly suffering from mental illness thanks to the trauma. (Full story)
  • The Suicide Orphan is a story from Reddit which focuses on an orphan that drives people insane and results in them committing suicide, and I know that this isn’t the only example where sixpenceee posts things that use suicide as the main element of a horror story, which is exploitative and also I personally think it’s inappropriate to use something that comes as a result of serious suffering and imply that it was the creepy ghosts that did it. (Full story)
  • “Psychopath” post includes a link to a quiz where you can see where you “fit in on the psychopath sprectrum”. I’ve seen people mention her using outdated terms in her posts and so this is here as proof that it does happen, and also because “do you have a severe personality disorder?” is a bit of a cheap entertainment trick in my opinion.
  • Karin Catherine Waldegrave is a post about a woman who replies incessantly to her own posts on social media, believing she is the target of a conspiracy. It’s clear she’s likely mentally ill. The post is tagged #creepy.
  • Chinese Water Torture is a post about the torture method that drives victims to extreme stress-related mental instability, and is here both because of that and because the fact that it’s tagged #creepy, which doesn’t seem appropriate.
  • The Edmonton Train attack video shows someone apparently in an altered state of mind through drugs or mental illness (or both) attacking someone on a train. She gifed a video which has since been deleted but a different video of the attack can be found on Youtube, and described it as “insane”.
  • Drawings of a Young Schizophrenic Boy is exactly what it says – a bunch of drawings from a young boy suffering from schizophrenia. The boy is quite obviously distressed by his hallucinations but the post is treated like the other paranormal posts, designed to shock and scare. The post is also tagged #creepy, which is inappropriate. (Close up of caption and tag, as the image is difficult to read)
  • Made By a Paranoid Schizophrenic Patient is another drawing by a person suffering from schizophrenia, also tagged #creepy, and this one with a self-promo in the caption.

I also found a post where sixpenceee addresses the claims of ableism. She says she agrees on the points made about films and stories portraying the mentally ill/physically disabled as “scary”, and that she tries to avoid using words like “insane”. She also asks people to differentiate between her paranormal/creepy posts and her scientific posts. However, she still continues to frequently refer to things as “insane”, both as descriptors and to self-promote her blog (1, 2, 3).

This covers the things I’ve seen people claim she does, but if anyone has any other links (especially things saved from earlier posts like this) feel free to add on.

2

Jonsa AU - Emma (@jonxsansafanfiction‘s remix day 3 - book couples)

Jon as Mr. Knightley, Sansa as Emma Woodhouse

“I cannot make speeches, Sansa. If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am. You hear nothing but truth from me.”

Positive Vibes (ALiL Deleted Scene)

Summary: (College!AU) In which you do something for Bucky that brightens his bad day. 

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1,923

A/N: An anon requested “reader does something spontaneous and romantic for Bucky that she doesn’t even think of as romantic! And he is just floored by her thoughtfulness.“ This takes place between “The Little Things (Part Two)” and “The Get Together”. Here’s a track list for the CD mentioned in this part. 

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist + Soundtrack

@avengerstories - thank you for existing and being my very best friend/editor

Originally posted by veronikaphoenix

You’re stuck in the middle of a heated debate between Bruce and Helen Cho about gamma radiation when Steve walks by. He scans the dining hall, letting his gaze fall from one table to the next, before balancing his tray in one hand so he can rub his forehead. As he does, he discreetly scans the room for a second time, reminding you of a lost child desperately seeking out his mother.

"Steve!” You call out, making sure your voice is loud enough to be heard over all the chatter. He turns around immediately, a relieved grin overtaking his features as he walks towards you.  

Keep reading

Teacher "Lost" My Returned Textbook

I’m not sure if this is the case for all schools, but where I went to high school, you were responsible for paying for any lost or damaged textbooks.

About a month before my graduation, I received a notice from the school that I apparently had never turned in a Psychology textbook from the previous semester. Coincidentally (or not), my psychology teacher, Mr. W, was my only instructor from all my years in school that I knew absolutely despised me.

I’ll be honest; I kinda deserved him hating me. I had a major case of senioritus and I wasn’t trying to hide it. Mr. W taught his class exclusively via lectures and slideshows gathered from the textbook; ergo, reading the textbook on my own schedule at home gave me the same information that I could have learned if I payed attention during his boring as hell monologues. Coupled with my psychology class being held directly after lunch plus a part-time job and extracurriculars, I used Mr. W’s class as nap-time.

I easily passed out during psych 3 times a week, every week, and there were weeks where I slept all 5 days. I even started carrying a big fuzzy jacket to use as a pillow. He fucking hated it.

I don’t exactly blame him, but there was literally no consequence for me. School policy only allowed for a student to be removed from class if they were causing a distraction. I did all my homework and got As and Bs on all my tests, ended the class with an A. I totally understand that he must have been irritated that a student could literally sleep in his class all the time and still receive an A, but I attribute it to his monotonous yet easy class structure.

I could never conclusively prove that he maliciously marked my textbook as missing as opposed to sheer incompetence, but I know I turned it in. It was during lunch with some students retaking a test and he was a real tool about it because I interrupted some phone call he was having on his lunch break to give it to him.

In order to graduate, I had to fork over $70 bucks for an ancient textbook that I absolutely turned in. I was pretty damn pissed, but I thought there was nothing I could really do about it.

About a week after I sent the money in, I tell this whole saga to one of my friend’s mom, a librarian at the local fancy-schmansy private school. When she hears Mr. W’s name, she immediately bursts out laughing.

Turns out Mr. W was in the middle of a pretty nasty divorce. and his soon to be ex wife was a teacher at the fancy-schmansy school and a rather close work-friend of my friend’s mom.

They were getting a divorce because she wanted children, and he didn’t, and the kicker; instead of, you know, talking to his wife about it he went a got a secret vasectomy.

I spent the last 3 weeks of high school spreading that story around the best I could, figuring it was the least I could do considering I had to pay 70 fucking dollars for absolutely nothing. I ended up graduating and feeling like I had at least created somewhat of a hassle for him while I was there.

I didn’t think about this textbook drama for a couple years (I graduated in 2014), but the other day I was talking to kid who is a current freshman at my high school; we were talking about the teachers and when Mr. W was mentioned in passing, she said “I heard he had a secret vasectomy”. Y'all, a (true) rumor that I started in 2014 is still being passed around. I feel like this is the epitome of petty and I feel quite accomplished.

I have no idea if Mr. W is even aware that this rumor is being discussed, but I like to think he does and is aware that it originated with me.

Sims 4 version of Sangwoo’s house

Okay so, first I need to thank the fuck out of @attackontitantea for their post in regards to Sangwoo’s house because it helped me a shit ton in trying to figure out the layout. There’s still a lot of things I need to fix, but I just wanna show off my lack of life. Everything house related was used with what the game comes with. [I have the “get to work” expansion pack so it might include things from there, I didn’t pay attention tbh]

I actually downloaded a mod for the arch way buuut because the mod required a wall built and all walls automatically adjust to the plot’s foundation, it didn’t work. So until I figure that out, I have this. 

All I got for the outside currently. Onto the indoors!!

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I see tons of advice for how to write first drafts, but what's your approach for writing second drafts (or third and fourth drafts, for that matter)? How do you turn a mess into something more structured and resembling a proper story? Also, how do you know when something's done and it's time to just stop and send it out? Thanks for your time.

Ok so you’ve done it! You’ve managed to get all the way through the first draft! Congratulations! But the work isn’t over, of course. Now you’ve got a whole pile of words and a whole ‘nother slog to turn it into something comprehensible.

Second drafts (my favourite part of the writing process) are a different type of work to the first draft. The first draft can be described as telling the story to yourself. You need the big strokes, the details of who does what and goes where, and to fumble through the plot arcs from beginning to end. The first draft has a lot of figuring out logistics so that in the second draft you can fill in detail, nuance and so that you can hone things to the best version of what they are.

Much like writing the first draft, everyone is going to approach the second draft slightly differently according to their personal preferences. But here’s how I do it.

Step one: Take a break!

Seriously. You’ve just spent a long time highly focussed on one thing, your brain needs the rest. The longer the piece the more of a break you need. For short stories I take a couple of days to a week, novellas a couple of weeks, novels, you could take a month or so. Give yourself time away.

Importantly, this is time to forget stuff about what you were working on – don’t panic when you read that by the way, you’ll still have all your notes, you’ll still have the broad strokes of what it is supposed to look like, but with any luck with some time away, you’ll have time to forget the stuff that isn’t important and that gives you trouble with the work. You’ll forget which parts you got stuck on thinking ‘I’m not good enough to write this’, or ‘that day I was writing badly, that chapter sucks!’ 

Take the time. Forget. Give yourself room to get excited about the project again.

Step two: Re-read!

Sit down and read the book through from start to finish. Approach it as though you’re reading a friend’s book. Take notes as you go, but only on the ‘big’ stuff. Does the plot hold together overall? Do characters make sense and ‘feel’ right? Are there plot lines, or characters that appear and then aren’t followed through? Are there obvious ‘mistakes’ that you should deal with?

Step three: Re-organise!

You might have noticed things in your read-through that seem out of order, or that if plot points were switched around or shifted on the timeline, they’d make more sense. If it’s a matter of picking up chapter seven and plunking it between chapters three and four, then do that now. 

If not, then you’ll need to do more intensive reworkings. Draw up a timeline of the story from start to finish, and plot out the story in the new timeline, so that you can have an organised plan on how to go in and change stuff around.

NOTE: Do not work over your original files! 

Keep a copy of the original draft. For each change that you make, create a new copy to work on. Keep track of the different versions that you’ve worked on, and BACK THEM ALL UP! You don’t want to set out reworking the whole story, realise you don’t like the new direction, and then have nothing to go back to.

Step four: Annotation! 

When I say the second draft is my favourite draft, this is the step I mean. Personally, I print out the manuscript (A4, double spacing, wide margins), I staple each chapter into a booklet, and I go to town with colour coded pens and markers.

I go through chapter by chapter, and I note down the key point of the chapter, and map out the emotional and character arcs, and I jot down my ideas of how I can refine the execution of those things.

Then I go through each chapter, paragraph by paragraph, and I do the same. 

What is the purpose of this paragraph? 

How can it be executed in a more effective way? 

What can be added to make this paragraph better? 

And what can I cut that is clogging up the story?

Step five: Rewriting!

Open a new blank word document, and retype the story from your annotated copy.

Yes. Rewrite the whole thing.

You’ll end up getting creative with your wording, you’ll make connections that you hadn’t consciously thought of before, you’ll cut stuff that really isn’t important enough to bother retyping but that you would have felt bad about deleting. The rewrite is key.

Step six: Re-re-work!

At this point, you could probably do with another break from the manuscript, you could say step 6.0 is take a break, step 6.5 is re-re-work.

Just like in step one, take a step back, and read your story as though it was given to you by a friend. Take notes on any issues you find, think about how the prose flows, and how the plot works and if the characters are doing the things they should be doing.

You can go back and repeat any of the above steps if you find more problems that you want to deal with, you can even just go through this whole process a number of times until you’ve got something coherent.

Step seven: Review!

Time to get an outside perspective: ask a few people whose opinions you trust to read the manuscript. If there are particular elements of the story that you feel you need to work on more, you could ask them more pointed questions (did you feel like the protagonist’s actions in the middle bit are justified by what they experienced in the beginning? Etc), or you could ask them for their general thoughts and feelings as they read it.

Make it clear that you’re not looking for corrections on spelling, or grammar. Take note on the feedback you get, but don’t take any of it as gospel. What this is, is giving you the opportunity to see what some other people get from your story, and whether what you think it says lines up with what other people think it says, and how you feel about the convergence or divergence of those opinions.

NOTE:

While I’ve written this out as an orderly list, you will probably find that many manuscripts need more of some steps than of others. Some will probably need no re-organising, but will need a whole lot of work on the prose. Some might need complete reorganisation but the prose is fantastic already. You might find that some works need a lot added to them, while some benefit by being cut back severely. Each manuscript is going to be a different beast to work on.

All of this is what would be called ‘substantive editing’, that is, edits that involve content, structure and narrative. While it is fairly important for legibility that you’re working in as correct grammar and spelling as possible, it will not be perfect. 

The second round of editing, once you have the work in pretty much the shape you want it, is line editing. Going through and giving your prose and word choices close attention, making sure that every sentence is pulling its weight.

The next round of editing, when the substantive and line edits are done, is the copy edit. You can attempt a copy edit yourself, but these are more usually done by professional editors either hired by the author, or as a part of the publishing process.

And that’s how I approach the second draft!

I hope that helps!

Hi there, your friendly blogger Mason here!

At the moment I’m fundraising to cover the costs of my gender confirmation surgery, if you’re able to donate, please click [HERE] to give me a helping hand!

If you’re not able to donate, I would be really grateful if you would reblog [THIS POST] so that more people will be able to see the fundraiser.

Thank you for reading, and thank you all for being so kind!

Pajama Day

Requested by @darkheartsdontbreaktheybruise 88: “I vote for today to be pajama day.”

Feysand - sick Rhys


Rhys is most definitely not sick. Or so he says.

Feyre, however, knows that this is most certainly bullshit. She was awake too when he was coughing up a lung at two in the morning, and when his nose was so clogged he woke abruptly when he couldn’t breathe normally. Her husband had had such a rough night sleep, in fact, that Feyre woke up before him, and was the first to feel his forehead. It practically burned her hand.

Immediately, she had canceled all of his meetings and obligations for the day. She called upon a healer, who inspected him quickly, quietly, while he was still sleeping, and left after telling Feyre just to make him rest and he would be fine in a couple days.

Feyre had closed the blinds so no light reached Rhys’ sleeping form, allowing him the chance to sleep rather peacefully for many more hours. His wife was completely content to watch over him while he slept, reading her book and brushing his hair back from his face from time to time.

He woke with a start, sitting up and practically trying to jump from the bed, upsetting the damp washcloth that had been sitting on his brow. His legs got twisted with the blanket, however, and he fell to the floor, groaning in discomfort. Feyre had tsked a couple times as she made her way around and helped her mate back to his feet before easing him on the bed again.

Rhys refused to lie down however, insisting that he was completely okay, even as his voice made a scratchy sound every time he talked and snot was currently pouring from his nose. Feyre simply handed him a tissue and pushed his shoulders so he was at least sitting against the headboard.

“But I have so much work to do Feyre. I’m not sick!” He kept saying, though he had just gratefully accepted the cup of tea she offered for his sore throat.

“I already canceled all your appointments for the day. Everyone understands that even the High Lord needs a sick day once in a while.” Feyre calmly explained, brushing his sticky hair off of his forehead. He looked like crap, she had to admit.

Thank you so much, darling.

Oops. It’s not a bad thing, Rhys. It’s actually a little nice to know that you don’t look perfect all the time. She winked at him.

“Yeah, well I can get dressed now so you don’t have to keep looking at me in my less than perfect state.” He said playfully, going to stand but Feyre pushed him down yet again.

“Nuh uh, sir, you are staying in this bed. In fact, I vote today to be pajama day!” She exclaimed. Rhys sighed, smiling slightly as he looked at her fondly. He was so easy to convince

Now, he grasps her hand in his and squeezes once. “What did I do to deserve you?”

Feyre winks again. “I ask myself the same thing everyday.” Suddenly, she stands up and skitters to the door. “Okay, you stay put and get comfy. I’ll be right back with food and stuff for the day. It’s about time we just spent a day together.” Her smile takes his breath away as she opens the door and swiftly departs.

The High Lord shakes his head, blows his nose, and takes a couple sips of his tea. When the cup was almost empty, he stands, stretching his sore limbs and thanking Feyre for getting him out of training with Cassian today. To be honest, he doesn’t think he would be able to do it in this state.

Rhys walks to his closet, going to the bottom drawer and pulling out a pair of footie pajamas with stars all over it that Mor had gotten him as a joke. He decides if he was going to spoil Feyre’s image of him as this sexy, perfect High Lord, he might as well do it comfortably.

About half an hour later, Rhys snuggled halfway beneath his covers, halfway not, warm and cozy in his pjs, Feyre comes back. She drops three bags of groceries on the table, scampers over to the bed to place a kiss on Rhys’ forehead, and then dashes for the closet. Rhys sits up in his bed in preparation, having a slight coughing fit in the meantime.

Rhys is just picking up another tissue when the closet door opens. Rhys drops the tissue. As well as his jaw. However, as always, he recovers quickly. “I didn’t know it was that kind of pajama day, darling. You should have told me and I wouldn’t look like such a dork.” He smirks, eyes freely roaming up and down her body which is scantily covered in a incredibly small black nightgown. He is working to stand and go to her as she holds up a finger.

“We’re not doing that today, not when you’re still sick. Though it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the view.” Feyre grins, causing Rhys to groan and fall back on his pillows.

“You torture me, you know that?” He asks, raising an eyebrow and following the movements of her body as she makes her way to the bed.

“Oh, yes, I do.” She hums, sliding under the covers next to him and peeking at what he is wearing underneath. “Love the footie pajamas by the way, so incredibly sexy.”

Rhys’ smirk comes back as he slides a hand under the covers towards her. “Sexy, you say?” But the act is ruined by a coughing fit that takes over his body.

Feyre rubs his back soothingly until he is done and then gets out of bed to bring him the snacks from the table, ready to settle in for a relaxing day with her mate.

For a couple hours, Feyre and Rhys simply read, eat, and cuddle, content in the silent company of each other. Eventually, Rhys’ eyes grow tired and he can no longer focus on what he is reading. So, Feyre takes the book from his hands, pulls Rhys down to lay his head in her lap, and reads aloud to him. Too many times, Feyre feels a hand start brushing along the edge of her nightgown and each time, with the hand that is constantly brushing through his hair, Feyre pulls at the strands slightly, causing him to growl and stop.

Later in the afternoon, Feyre leaves for a few minutes to make him soup. When Rhys spies the bowl in her hands, his eyes sparkle. She feeds him the hot soup but his eyes never leave hers as he eats, no doubt remembering the first time she made him soup. When the bowl is empty, he once again lays his head on her lap and stares up at her with pleading eyes.

His footsie pajamas have someone become unzipped to the waist, the upper half tied around his waist. Whether this is because he is hot or for some other reason, Feyre can’t be entirely sure. She laughs and shakes her head down at him, causing her hair to fall down in his face. He tugs at the loose strands in a silent question. “You’re insufferable.”

“But you love me.” Rhys reminds helpfully.

“That I do, however you know that I will not make love to you until you are 100% better.” Feyre retorts.

Her husband harrumphs, crossing his arms and sniffing. Feyre watches, however, as his eyes begin to slide shut once more. He snuggles around her, burying his head in her stomach. She smiles and runs her fingers through his hair again, feeling absolutely perfect in this moment.

That is, until she sneezes.

She feels Rhys smirk against her tummy. “Guess we’re having another pajama day tomorrow.”

Send me a number and ship!

Masterlist

15 nov 17 

throwback to a couple of days ago! spent a slow weekend doing the things I love… it’s been a difficult week but still God is so faithful & merciful x