i want to be very clear about this my proposal me

221fandomwitches  asked:

destiel prompt if you want: au. witch!cas. dean (human) is a security guard at a museum, and at night cas sneaks in to get an bone for a spell. dean confronts him, but cas is too cute to arrest.

Hey, thanks! This one was a lot of fun :)

AO3

Castiel pulled the hood of his jacket up as he walked down the damp sidewalk, still wet from the rain, and crouched down next to the back door.

This was such a bad idea.

He shook his head and pursed his lips. No use in turning back after two weeks of deliberating.

After quickly glancing in both directions to make sure no one was heading in his direction (not that he was expecting anyone to at three in the morning), he shook the door handle.

Locked, obviously.

Castiel murmured a few words under his breath and blew a quick puff of air into the keyhole, smiling when he heard a satisfying click. The gears shifted into place.

The door only creaked a little when he opened it and slipped through.

The more steps that he took inside the museum, the more sure he was that this was a bad idea. When had he decided to live a life of crime?

He paused, taking a deep breath to calm himself. This wasn’t a life of crime. This was one crime that wasn’t even going to hurt anyone, and then he was going to call it a day -  forever.

As he quietly made his way through the dim hallways, he mentally ran through the list of ingredients that were needed for the spell. Most of them were easy enough to find, some would take a little bit of creativity, and one - the most important ingredient - had to be a bone shaving. Sure, he could have settled for some kind of fish bone he picked out of his dinner or something, but when it came to spells that helped you see into the future, the older the bone, the clearer the vision. The clearer the vision, the more his client was willing to pay.

And, well -

Castiel stopped as he turned the corner and looked up at the massive skeletal remains of a triceratops.

You couldn’t get much older than this.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Which Austen book/movie do you think had the most sexual tension?

Persuasion, hands down.

Think about it: every other novel depends wholly upon the uncertainty of the heroine being unaware of the hero’s romantic interest for some portion of the novel, with misunderstandings and difficulties largely brought on by the structure of Proper Courtship where it was generally considered inappropriate for either party to display too much obvious inclination until a proposal was actually made. (Marianne’s quick and clear affection for Willoughby makes a lot of people uncomfortable. Fanny Price is commended for her placid response to Henry Crawford’s flirtations. Elizabeth Bennet doesn’t even begin to remotely consider Darcy as a marital prospect until after he’s proposed and been rejected with some of the sickest burns ever committed to the page.)

But Persuasion. Ah, Persuasion. Anne has already previously accepted and then rejected Wentworth before the novel even starts. The whole book already exists at the level of tension we see reached when Lizzy runs into Darcy unexpectedly on her visit to Pemberley. That’s the whole book.

And it gets better.

Anne didn’t reject Wentworth because she couldn’t fuckin’ stand him, the way Elizabeth chewed off Darcy’s ear for being a dillhole to Jane and (she thinks) to Wickham. Anne loved Wentworth, and he loved her. They were devoted to each other. It’s the fact that she broke off the engagement despite this that rankles, for both of them. The attraction was there. It was acknowledged. It was allowed to burn wild and bright for that brief, delicious time before Lady Russell’s doubts and concerns seized hold of Anne and persuaded her to wreck his happiness, and her own. No, they were both fully aware of how much they wanted each other, and they were like “yeah, let’s get married, it’ll be great, I love you so much, oh God you’re so attractive, you’re amazing, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, you’re everything I could ever want.”

It was real and undeniable. They cannot unsay any of it. And then it was over.

[SAD TROMBONE]

And that’s just the backstory.

So despite Wentworth being hella difficult for Anne to read, and her own shattered expectations and self-esteem leading her to believe that of course he’s over her and totally into Louisa Musgrove, why wouldn’t he be, she’s young and cute and so many things Anne is not…we still get to watch Anne burn for this man after eight years apart and know that that’s a fire that’s never going to go out for the rest of her life, if time and distance and hopelessness and even the attentions of other charming young men in Captain Benwick and Mr. Elliott haven’t managed to put out those flames.

And on the re-read we can pick up on every look and cue from Wentworth which we then know to be signs of the fact that he is as helplessly lost to his desire for this person as he was nearly a decade earlier. He wants to believe otherwise and tries to act as if it is–and in a classic case of over-compensation gives rise to hopes and expectations from Louisa Musgrove which then very nearly lock him into an attachment which would surely divide him from Anne forever. And even when he feels himself safe from that, he confronts the possibility of Anne being taken by a rival in Mr. Elliott, and can only watch, rather than give a clear sign of his intent. After all the time that has passed, he is now in the position Anne was in at the beginning of the book, and must painfully struggle to weigh his own doubts against his desires. The no-liking-each-other-too-much-until-you-pop-the-question courtship rules still apply, and an open and happy flirtation at this point is not in their natures as individuals–they’re older than most other heroes and all other heroines. They know the risks. They’ve seen happiness slip away, before, and wonder if it is lost forever. Their emotional stakes are higher. He cannot bear to ask again, face to face.

The misery. The agony. The helpless and resentful eyefucking. That LETTER.

I͚̞̖ ̗̮͈̰̬͇͙c̺̗̮a̗̗̤̜ṉ̯ ̦͔̞̫̟l̯͎͇i̮̱͓̹̭̝͍̥s͓̣̱͎͉̙̻̱̩t͖̠e̼͍̻̣̼n̪̜̮̟̖ ̼̣̼̱̩n̬̳o̩̱̪̟͚̟̲ ̪̺̺l̗̦o͉̝̺̳̤̺̬̻ͅn̗̤̦̥̥͔g̗̰e̜r͎̙̲͚̥̫͇̰ ̜̻͎͈i̘̻̲̫͖̘̫n̩̳̻̮̳̪ ̖̳̳̬̭s̩i̹̩̗̻̘l̹͚e͈̮͖͚͈̫n͔̣̰̯̝̠̤̝c͚͍̙͈̱͉̗͇e̤̭̯̳̹̳.̘̖̫̩̭̻̤͖̱ ̳̞I͓̞̣ ̦̗̼͙͙͎̗͚m͚͙͖̜̜u͈̱̦̩s͓̰͚͎t̼͕̬͈̗̫ ̝͉͕̯̣͈ͅs͖̼͓̤͎͚̮p̲͇̮͓̩e͍̦̹͉͕̠͎̠a̻͎̝̭̜k͉̫̭̣ ̫̣̲̜͙͉̳t̺͚͔̜̗o̫͓̩̝ ̯̻̙̱y͕̳̘̺͎̞o͍̮u̲̭̙̦ ̺̦͎̬̦̣̤

b̩̹͖y̦̝͙̣̮̦̫ ̼̪s̜̜̼͓̝̣͉̺ṵ̼̦̪c͕̝̝h̝̞͈̻̺̩̼̬̩ ͕̺̟͓ͅm͖͈̣̰͍̫̦e̫͕͇̗̳̩̣̠a̬͕̭͕ͅn̖ͅs̲͕͉̙̥͉̠͙ͅ ̤̳̞̖̼̥̰a̗̗̹̰̳̟̙s̭̭͍̦͎͙ͅ ͇̭̰a̱̩͈r͍̦̟̣͚͙̱e̠̟̬̮ ̘w͔̩͈̩̠̮̭̘i̳̻̯͙̦̼t͇̖̹̙̩h͎̣͎̖̩̬̥̪̦i̙n͚̫͈̗̘ ̱̺m̯̜̬͈y̹̟̝̱̼̝̰̘ ̖̞̪̪̦̭r̮̝̙̻̣̯e̳̮̦͚̞̣a̱̞c̠̞̝͎̥̯͚͍ḥ͎̟̯.͎̪̬̟̻̥͉̦͙
̭̭͕̲̫̖̜
͙̰̬͓̪̹͈ͅY̰̯̟̜͎̼̳͖̱o̘̜̞̣̭̥u̩͎̰̣̤̻͚͙ ̫̲̻̲̜͈p̱̹̯i͎e͈̣̩̠̲̖r̳͉̺c̩͔͉̩̤̥͉̲e͎̗ ̞̠̮̲̝̠̤̜m̯̙̹̖̗̺y̤̺͙̼̮ ̮s͇͔͔̦̮̤o̯͖̥̭͓͍̤ͅu͔̥̩̯̻̖̙̲l̟͎.̤͕ ̰̼̘I̭̝̫ ͚̠̝̜a̮̮̘m̝̖͖̫͙͖̟ ͔̳̯̟̺h̗͖̩̬̟̱͓a̺̳͔̲͈l̙̺̙͓̞f͍̠ ̠̞̘̮̩a̲̝̬̟g̪͖̲͙o̩͚n̩̞̹y̗̖͔̪̮͚̹̻,̖̩̬̗̣͇̺̹ ̥̙͇̜͓̙̠̰͎h͕̮̪͕ạ͙̰̠͓l͚͙͚̤͇̮f͉̰̝͈̳͍̖ ̭̘ḥ̞o̗̲͎̩̜̙p̭e͖̮̼̱ͅ.̻̳ ̙̣͍͍̦̩̼͓̯

T̻̣̖̼͍͉̝e̳̮̯̘̜͖l̪̰l͕͕ ̼͈͉̻̙̗̰̬m̟̬̙̫ͅḙ̬̰̲̦̮̜ ̣̲̘n̺̰̦̟͍͔̫o͙̬͓̗̫̻̻̱t̻̘̰̜̖̦̜͈ ͖͇̜͚̣͍t̳̞̼h̗̹͓̮̖̲̟͕a̫̞̖̣̳̩ͅt͈͚̩ ̝̤̗̲̭̫̭I̪͙͙ͅ ̝̜̭͚̙̞a͉̹͖̫͔̪̮m̯̘͇̪ͅ ̳͍̩t̠͈̻͚̩͇͚o̩̭o̘̦̝̙ ̰̬̠͓̠͚̙̹̹l͚͕͍a̰͎t̖̭̥ẹ͈̝,̩̲͓̖̘͇͎ ̻̲̬̲ț͔͎̹̪͍h̘͔̙̝a͇t̫͎͙͖ ̬̩͇̫̮s͖͉̘̙u͔̹͚c͕̣̝͙͍h͖̤̲̱̟ͅ ̖̺͔̠̰̬p͈̤͔̖̯ṛe͚͙̯̖c̝͔͙͉i̻o̖͙̠u̜̬̦̹̻̫ͅș̝̪̹̝̦̩̼ͅ ̦̥͉̞͉͚̗f͇̪e̝̰̠̝ẹ̹͔͉̟̤l̻͖͔̜͇̝ͅi̟̘͎̦͈̞̱n̲̮̤̤͉͈̬g̱͓͖͕̣̯͚͙s̱ ̩̯̲̪͕̩a̪̠͓͈̩ͅr͓͚e͍͇͖ ̹g̳̖͎͙͉͇͎̯o͓n̘̜͈̫e̲̥̥̞͖̩ͅ ̭̺f͓̺̮͈͚̼̲o̼̝r͖̰̩̞̺̼̮̰̪ ̗̮e̼̬̹̳͕̼̤v̲̝e͙̤͎ṟ̙̘̱.͕̞̥͙̝
̘̭̪͙̙̥̲̗
̰̺̮̗̳̭̹I̺̼͎͕ ̳̖̘͇͚̦̳͉o̞̥̥̞̘̗̗f̜̱̞͔͕̹͙f̟̹̖̺e̲̬͉̥r̲͚̣̘̪͓̫̳̹ ̙͚͍̘͍̘̦m̪̫͔̼̙͔̯͕y͎̖̯͇s̞e̺̣͓̻̗͎̹͇̻l̙̣̮͈f͖̩̫̱̤͙̘ ̝̩̥͖̞̜͉̻͎t͇̳͈̳o̙̜̳͎̣ ͕̤̣y̱̞̦͈̳̥o͚u̦̭̥͔ ͈̹̗̮a̠̺͓͕͖g̤͇̟͍a͚̱͉̯̬͍̘i͚̣̣̻̥n̞͍̜̗̝͓ ̤̠̹̪̳͉̪͓w̼̭̠̭̝i͖̭t͎͕̮̭ẖ̟̱ ͉̩a̗͇̪ͅ ̩̥̺̱̱̦h̺̝͕͓̠e͈̜̮̪a͚̦̦͇͔̗͙̝͈r͖͔̜̠̰̥t̬̥̻̭͕̬ ̦͇̠͎̱͓͎e̥̙̠̥̼̩͎̘͍v̩͙e͎̭̺̫̥n͍͚̙̺̼ ̘̰̱m̗̲̯̞͇o̝͈͓̰͇r̹̤̞̙͕e͙͍̦̦̦ͅ ̱͔͇̩͓y̻̖͚̱̼ͅo̜̯̗u̦̲̦͎̙̬̭r̼̲̗̟̯̟̱͓ ̗͖o̜͍̤̩͓̲̬ͅw͈̳͎̩̪̤͓͍͎n͖͍͈͔̪͖͔ ͇̳͔̫̮͙̭͕

t̤͕h̲̲̩̱a̪͚͚̞͈͈͉ͅṇ̝̪̞̰̦͎ ͍̺̼̳̦̜w̝̹̖h͉̥̟̝e̮̞͇͕̩͉̰̮n̘͓̜͙ ̙ͅy͕̗͇͎͙͉̹̻o̖͈͈ͅu̺̱͈ ̮̥͍͍͓a̝̮̱l̥̩̤̹m͖̻o̻͚̯s͚͎̳̻͙t̟̹ ̱̹̤̝̞ͅb̰͍̺̜ͅr̤̙͍̹̯͎̻o̥͚͇̻k̹e̟͍̪͎͖ ̱̝̭̥̠i̠̝̬̙̲̤t͇͚̺̯̣̮̜͚ͅ,̙̣̭͓̭̮ͅ ̗̰̞̳͕͔e̦̱̹i̺̙̰͕̲͓̜ͅg̖̯͈͇͔̣h̻̻̺̼͉͍͇̞t̠̝̦̮̟͈ ̤̩̦̻̥y͕̼e̺͉͖a̭r͎̜̻̯͖s̺ ̰͔a͚̗̰̞̺̣n͕̳̜̲̰̱̮ͅd̮ ̲̳͉̙̲̙a͖̞͕͍̗ ̝̲͖̖h͈͈̮͉̯̱̪a̺̖̼̘̯̳͕̼̩ḻ͚̩̰̪̻̞͙f̺̫̻̬͓̩͇̜ ̖̮a͎̯̣͍̻̲̺g̞͖̹̭̻͓̻̥ͅo̺̲̯͔̪̹͖̭.̭͓̮̖
̞̞̜̩̮̖
͚͍̮̟D̹̺̺͚͎͈a̱̫͕͕̩̞r̭̟̖̤͍̘e̫̞̞͉̖̮̳̣ ̼̱̜ͅn͙o͇̮̰̫̠̺t͕̱̜͎ ̟͕̩̼̙s̹a͖͉y͓̣ ͕̩̠̗t̟͈͍͚h͕͕͖̣̟a̤̹̯̗̪͕t̮̳͓ ͎̳̰̳̙̹͙ṃ̟͕̟ͅa̪̩n̥̲͇̺̞̖̰̫ ̫̖̯̜̼͖͖̼f̟̮̪̖̞o̯͉̝͚r̺̭̞͕g͕̹̤̖̣̤e͖̦̜̘t̺̮s̳̯̳̻̘̟ͅ ̻̜̻̱͉s͍͙̟͇̜̦̬͍o̬̪͔̟o̖̠̺͙̺̯̘͙n̼̫̥̮̬̜̞͖e̤̹͇͇̼r̬̻̰̻̻̹ͅͅ ͇̠ṭ̪̰͈̪̥͙̫h̫͕̙̞̟͍͖̺a̬̭̼̲n̹͙̮̹͚̘̞ ̜̺̤̪w͇̦͖̦͕ͅo̫̪̦͎̜̭m̜͕̹a͉͚̮̫n̪̥̣͖,̠̣ͅ ̺̺̪̠̮̘̮ͅͅ

t̫̳͎͙͎̩̹͕h̙̬̦̟̣̝̜̹a̟̠̖͍̜t̘̣͉͍̤̦̮ ͔̲̹̤̤̝̮͔̠h͖̲̲̣i̜̲͈ͅs̝̠̪̭̝̭̳ ̪̤͓̗̣̩̺l͔̺̱̼͇͕̩o͖̠͖͖v͓̫̤̲̬̳̳͔e̟̮͖̩̲̯̻ ̹͕h̼͚̠̘̺̖a̯̰s͍̹̠͔̠ͅ ̟͈̞̩̳͉̮ͅa͔̺̹̟̼̲̝̦n̳̖͕ ̣̗͍͎͇e͓͉̦̺ͅa͔̰r̠̺͖̝̗̼̼̘l̻̘͕̤̯̩̟̙i͔͚͙̠͓̥ẹ̯͙̼͙ͅr̲͈͉ ̣ḏ̲̯̟̪͇e̳͓̫̲̻͚a̯t̲̭̬̻̯̥̼̭h̠̘.͍̰ ͚͍

Ị̱̻ ̙̭͇̗̟̠͓̠h̲̳͎a͍̠̤̗̠̰̝v̙̘̖̼͖e̞̻̟̹̣̣̭ ̠̱͍̯͈l̹͇̗̣̙͈͈̩̰o͎̭̝v͈͕e̠̳̗͓͍̺ḓ͍͔̯̖̹̼ ̹̼̳͙̗̘̬n̳͕̰̻̲̰̖͉o̬͉n͚̭ͅe͚̮̯ ̺̺b̥̬̩̼̣͈̻̺͖u̫͖͖̦̪̜̠̱t̲̤͓̩ͅ ̙̮̣̜y͚͎̘̭̤̼̞̞o͔̩̭u̖̩͍̫̤͖.̠̬̞̰͍

Originally posted by kickinyoass

Hot Off The Press

Another AU where Jacky-Boy is a hockey player and Bitty has a job that involves hockey bc that’s my aesthetic. Anyway, I really know nothing about how the world of sports journalism works so there is probably some inaccuracies in here, but it’s an AU so who cares. Artistic license and all that. Very slightly NSFW (i just wanted to get all the warnings out there). 

***

“Are you into men?”

Jack has been asked this question before, but in such a subtle way (and typically involving Parson) that it’s easy to avoid. No reporter has ever straight out asked him. Besides, he’s not gay. He’s bisexual. So when Jack usually tells them, “No.” it’s not a lie. However, this time it feels different. Maybe it wasn’t just this particular time, but all the times added onto each other that’s finally causing him to really think about what hole he’s digging himself into.

The blunt question has him feeling panicky and the other presser notice his reaction too. Jack can’t say no, because that’s not true. He is into men. Jack’s panic quickly shifts, and now he just feels like shoving the microphones away and storming out, because this is hockey goddammit. Not E! news.

“Excuse me?” Jack clears his throat, trying to buy himself some time to think of a properly crafted response. Over the years, he’s developed a talent for that.

But everything is on overdrive and he feels his breath start to quicken again–

“Are you into men?” Another reporter asks, and it takes Jack a moment to realize that the reporter isn’t asking him. He’s asking the man who popped the question in the first place.

 All attention, including Jack’s, turns to the small blonde that got lost in the bundle of people. He holds up his mic towards the reporter who popped the question in the first place. 

Keep reading

cold coffee. (m)

pairing: jungkook | reader

genre: smut

word count: 4,564

description: “I wasn’t referring to verbal truth. I was referring to,” and then there was a brief pause that was followed by a light press to the center of your stomach. Your back laid flat against the wooden bench before the predatory loom of his figure appeared overhead, “Candor of the body. Which you, my love, are the absolute queen of.”

cr.


With an exchanged swipe, taste forthcoming as the two of you had intended. Too sweet, muttered against your lips – lips that curved into ones of amusement at his feigned disfavor for your particular arrangement of the poison. Too bitter, slipped past your teeth in retort, the air of the syllables brushing against his breath; a dance of icy exhales in a burning winter night. His mouth twitched at that, following your suit into similar enjoyment of the playful critique.

“Maybe not my coffee, but sweet in other aspects, no?” He spoke in a devilish dialect of insinuation and lust; one that, before encountering him, was unfamiliar to you. Adoration, it managed to claw at your chest with great vigor each and every time he glanced down at you through darkened tufts of raven hair. His words wrapping their way around you entirely until they sounded of music. The notes gliding across your bones as his voice conducted your motions.

Keep reading

Paper Stars

Summary: Dan starts to get love notes in his locker in the form of origami stars, so he gets the help of his best friend, Phil, to figure out who it is.
Word Count: 2,398
Warnings: cussing
A/N: Thanks to @insanityplaysfics as always for giving me ideas. I’m a fucking sap recently because my boyfriend proposed to me and I just wanna write a crapton of fluff and puke rainbows everywhere. This is short and sweet, which is very rare for me! I hope you like it anyways!
Read it on AO3

-

The day Dan opened his locker to a strange slip of paper folded into an origami star was one of the strangest moments of his life.

“What,” Dan said simply, giving the offending paper a strange look. He bent down and retrieved it, staring at it long and hard. It was thin, made with a flowery paper, and he could just make out words written in very small print on it. “What,” Dan said again.

With a small amount of struggle, Dan managed to unwrap the star, revealing the writing inside. The script was sloppy to the point where Dan thinks it was written with the wrong hand. Dan said “what” again and the word didn’t even sound like it was real anymore. It took him a few minutes to read what it said due to the scribble, but he eventually managed.

‘i used to stare out the window because i thought the scenery was beautiful. Then i saw you and suddenly the world didnt seem nearly as captivating as before.

Keep reading

One more from this long list of prompts, completely unprompted.

Number Eighty-Five: “They got you a present. Isn’t it sweet?”


“Der, we got another one!”

Derek sighed, put down his fork, and glared up at the doorway where Stiles was about to appear with the mail. It was bad enough the mailman rang the doorbell in the middle of breakfast, but for another damn proposal? They should’ve just pretended they weren’t home.

“It’s from the McMullen pack in…Montana, that’s a new one,” Stiles announced as he shuffled back into the kitchen in his boxers, a large box in his hands. “And look, they got you a present. Isn’t it sweet?”

Derek rolled his eyes and went back to his eggs. “Just throw it away.”

Stiles made no moves to throw it away. He set it down on the corner of the table between their plates, and Derek had to grab his coffee mug before it spilled.

“You’re not even going to open it?” He drummed his fingers on top of it excitedly. Stiles loved opening packages. “What if it’s something cool?”

“It’s never something cool.”

“That’s a lie. The last one was great.” He still looked thrilled over the badly cross-stitched Den, Sweet Den hanging over the toilet. Derek glared.

“As soon as I get Lydia here to clear out the ash, I’m taking it down and it’s going in the garbage.”

Stiles finally gave up and sat back down to his meal, leaving the box right where it was. “I can’t believe you would insult Marjorie’s hard work like that. You know she’s a powerful alpha from a powerful pack.”

The accompanying proposal letter had stated as much, a number of times.

Derek pointedly moved the box to the floor. “A powerful alpha, but not a skilled cross-stitcher.”

“Big words from the guy who buys new jeans every other week because he can’t fix a tiny tear.”

“I can, I just don’t want to. It looks tacky.” And unlike Stiles, who spent all of his college years learning to sew his clothes back together to save money, Derek could afford to buy new ones.

That, and the entire town was still kind of waiting for him to be hauled off in cuffs for murder, and wearing tattered and worn out clothes tended to make them whisper about that poor sheriff’s boy, he deserves someone nicer. They always learned shortly after that Derek was the nicer of the two when that poor sheriff’s boy turned around and cussed them out until Derek dragged him away.

Stiles scoffed. “Throwing away unopened gifts is tacky!”

“Sending proposals to an engaged man is tacky.”

“Can you really blame them for trying? I’d be all over that if I wasn’t already.” Stiles ran a hand up Derek’s thigh to punctuate his point, while taking a casual sip of his coffee as if he were doing nothing of the sort.

“I can and I will. And at the very least, we’re sending it back.”

Stiles pouted, brushing Derek’s thigh with his thumb like it would change his mind. “But what if it’s a new frying pan? We’ve been needing one of those.”

“I’ll buy you a new frying pan. We’re sending it back.”

“We might as well get something out of all this harassment.”

“How about the satisfaction of saying no to every single one?” That was enough for Derek, but apparently not for Stiles, who blinked at him imploringly. Combined with his rumpled bedhead, it almost worked.

“But I can’t make breakfast in satisfaction.”

Derek leaned over to give him a compensatory kiss. “You can barely make breakfast in a frying pan.”

Stiles’ hand dropped from his thigh and he narrowed his eyes.

“Wow, okay, see if I ever make you breakfast ever again.” Derek grinned, but that just egged him on. “Actually no, I’m going to make you shitty breakfasts all the time! In the proposal frying pan!”

“We don’t know it’s a pan, and we’re not keeping it even if it is.”

“Oh come on! We deserve gifts after all this bullshit.” He gestured with his fork to their life in general, which also included the large hole in the drywall from a cursed statuette an angry pack had sent last month after Derek politely returned their proposal.

Derek refused to give in. He was not going to play nice in response to insult after insult.

“Stiles, why the hell would I want to keep gifts from packs I’ve never met who are trying to bribe me away from my fiance?”

Stiles pressed his lips together to try not to smile, but he failed. The whole being engaged thing was still new, they were both still a little giddy about it.

“We should send wedding invitations to all of them,” he said gleefully, and there was his petty streak. He’d been taking all these formal proposals surprisingly well and in good humor considering they were all trying to lure Derek into bringing Hale prestige to their packs.

“No. Then they’ll just send bigger gifts to try to change my mind.”

Stiles smirked. “And I‘m going to keep all of them.”

Derek rolled his eyes but gave Stiles the kiss he was puckering up for.

anonymous asked:

My dad says Zoo's are becoming politically incorrect. I've seen both arguments but I wanna hear your opinion on it: do you think Zoo's are a good idea?

Well, let’s see if I can keep this response short.

First, I’m guessing that by ‘politically correct’ you mean ‘ethically sound.’ So, is keeping animals in zoos an ethical thing to do? As with many things, there is no easy or even single answer to that question.

Without a doubt, there are bad zoos- private or roadside zoos, zoos that keep their animals in abhorrent conditions, zoos that allow visitors to engage in unsafe things like cub-petting schemes. It is obvious that these types of zoos are unethical and exploitative.

(Hint: something like this is never a good sign.)

On the other hand, what constitutes a ‘good’ zoo? In the best captive conditions currently available, is it okay to keep an animal locked up? Some say no, no matter what; some say what we have now isn’t good enough. Others say yes- the best zoos are able to provide their captives with good lives.

This of course brings us to just what a ‘good’ life is. Those who say that animals should never ever be placed in captivity usually value a sense of freedom above all else. Even in perfect captive conditions, an animal will not be free, wild, or ‘natural.’

However, we must acknowledge that ‘freedom’ is a concept created and defined by humans. A human locked in a prison knows the difference between captivity and freedom, and is able to conceptualize that certain ‘rights’ that they have are being violated. But for animals, this may be too complex to perceive. How far back do you have to move a fence before a kudu decides that he is wild again? The idea that animals sense when they are ‘free’ versus ‘not free’ is, to me, not realistic.

Animals do, however, benefit from the ability to be free to make choices, such as what they eat, where they will go, who they will interact with, and so on. Undeniably, captivity presents animals with fewer choices of these kinds than they would have in the wild. The best zoos are now implementing programs to accommodate these choices, particularly with highly intelligent animals such as elephants and apes.

One such example: the “O Line” at the Smithsonian National Zoo allows orangutans to choose one of two buildings to stay in during the day. Other animals, such as the otters, can choose whether or not to be on exhibit via spaces in their enclosure that are sheltered from the public. Scatter feeding and foraging enrichment is yet another way that zoos allow animals to choose what food they want to eat.

Still, despite these improvements, there will always be limitations of choice in captive environments compared to wild ones by the very definition of ‘captivity.’ Furthermore, while many strides have been taken to update enclosures with choices in mind, the fact remains that the implementation of behavioral science in zoos lags behind the research due to the costs, and often due to the stress of the animals themselves when trying to adjust to new schedules and norms (even if they are theoretically better ones).

A forty-year old captive elephant will have lived through decades of zoo reform, and we can’t erase those negative experiences from her mind.

One danger of comparing captive animals to their wild counterparts is assuming that captive environments should mirror the wild ones as closely as possible. But what the wild even is is not well-defined. ‘Wild’ deer roam my suburban neighborhood: should that habitat be replicated in their zoo enclosure? Wild environments include predators, diseases, and natural disasters: is it better that those be implemented in zoos as well?

In actuality, an animal born in captivity likely has no sense of what its natural environment should look like. Certainly it has natural instincts and inclinations- a tiger likes to urine-mark vertical objects and a gibbon likes to climb- but neither of them specifically needs a tree to do this with- a post or rope swing would also work. The ‘naturalistic’ look of many zoo enclosures is actually for the benefit of the visitors, not the animals. In fact, a lush, well-planted habitat could still be an abysmal one for an animal if all of its needs aren’t being met.

This brings us to one of the most important aspects of zoos: the visitors. Theoretically, one of the major purposes of good zoos is to educate and inspire the public about animals, particularly in regards to their conservation. But do zoos actually do this?

The answer is yes… to a small extent. People given surveys upon entering and leaving a zoo exhibit generally do know slightly more about the animals than they used to, but this depends a lot on how educated they were to begin with. While many visitors express an increased desire to engage in conservation efforts after leaving a zoo, not many of them have actually followed up on it when surveyed again a few weeks later. Still, most zoo visitors seem to leave the zoo with several positive if perhaps short-term effects: interest in conservation, appreciation for animals, and the desire to learn more. If a visitor experiences a “connection” with an animal during their visit, these effects are greatly increased.

However, certain types of animal “connections” and interactions can also produce a negative effect on zoo visitors. This reflects what I said earlier about the naturalistic design of habitats being more for the visitors than the animals. Individuals who view animals performing non-natural behaviors (such as a chimpanzee wearing clothes and acting ‘human,’ or a tiger coming up to be petted) are less likely to express an increased interest in their conservation, and even less likely to donate money towards it. Generally, our own perception of freedom and wildness matters much more than the individual animal’s.

The fact of the matter is that, worldwide, zoos spend about $350 million dollars on wildlife conservation each year. That is a tremendous amount of money, and it comes from visitors and donations. What amount of discomfort on the part of captive animals is worth that money being devoted to their wild counterparts? It’s hard to say.

This is a very, VERY general overview of some of the ethical issues surrounding zoos; to go over it all, I’d need to write a book. But hopefully, it got you thinking a little bit about what your own opinion on all this is. (I didn’t explicitly state mine on purpose, though it’s probably fairly clear.)

Refs and further reading below the cut!

Keep reading

So, I was watching Star Vs. The Forces Evil episode Into The Wand and something caught my attention. Lil’ Chauncey, Moon’s war pig-goat pet thing, was in Star’s memories. She remembers him.

 She knows Chauncey died in battle but no specifics on which battle or when. Then we get to The Grandma Room and we see Moon’s tapestry and her poem which I sum it up as: Toffee dun goofed. Toffee is clearly terrified and there have been lots of theories as to why this happened. Most of which tend to be shippy or something else.

But look at Moon’s face. Look at that rage, that pure open hatred. What did he do? What could warrant such open hostility from someone we’ve seen as being so cool and reserved? Then is hit me: Star was alive when this event went down. Because Chauncey died in battle, shown here in this tapestry and Moon is clearly an adult and Star remembers Chauncey. Then I remembered how the royal guards used to babysit Star. Why? Where were the nannies? The caretakers? The royal nurses? They taught her how to fight, how to use a sword and weapons, how to kill an enemy with her bare hands before she ever hit puberty. Why would Queen Butterfly, Mrs. Prim and Proper, allow her only daughter to be cared for and basically raised by guards

Because she felt it was necessary to better protect her young daughter. I’m willing to bet this is Moon unleashing some serious mama bear rage against someone who threatened her very young child. Star was old enough to remember Lil’Chauncey, but perhaps not the attempt on her life or whatever it was Toffee was planning on doing to the royal family. Maybe it was a betrayal on his part since there are so many hints and theories revolving around the two.

(Just as a side note, I am very aware of the Moon/Toffee ship and while I do think it is kind of out there, I also kind of like it too. Unless it ends up being like the Luke/Leia thing like one new major theory proposes. In which case, NOPE.)

I also thought it was strange that Moon and River decided to send their daughter to Earth to better control her powers….without any other supervision except for Glossyrick who they and we all know probably isn’t the best person to be keeping a rein in on Star. It probably had something to do with keeping her from setting the whole kingdom ablaze in glitter and flaming rainbows, but I also feel there was something else to it. While there are no mentions of Toffee after Storm The Castle, Moon is clearly afraid. 

I don’t know if we’re doing the right thing River.

Also, for all of Moon’s faults, she loves her daughter more than anything. Star’s safety is paramount to Moon and even the cleaving of her family’s ancestral wand is no where near as important to her as Star’s safety. 

Oh, I’m always mad. But I’m happy that your safe.

I love this theory because it explains so much: why Moon acts distant but at the same time is a constant presence in her daughter’s life. Moon maybe trying to do what she can to protect her only child while also living up to the very high and difficult position of being a Queen of an entire…planet? Like, she’s trying her best to be a good parent and Queen even if she doesn’t go about it in a way that Star can respond to.

Also, don’t tell me we aren’t going to learn something new on Monday about Moon. Look at this image I found for Page Turner’s preview. She just looks so tired and so sad. This is a woman whose seen some shit, done some things she’s regretted and probably has a lot of dangerous enemies.

All to protect her only child. At least, that’s my theory until canon will most likely disprove it.


EDIT: OK, so…I am both awed by and grateful for all the likes and re-blogs this post has gotten so BIG THANKS TO EVERYONE! XD

           Also, after watching the last few episodes of the season I feel like this sort of at least helps support my theory. There is no proof – yet – I hope – but give what we’ve seen it makes me happy. Moon clearly is worried about Star. She wants her training to progress farther and quicker, there is urgency in her voice and it’s clear that she’s scared. Also, all the magic in the universe is disappearing? Makes me wonder just WHAT that wand even is, or at least what makes it so special if Ludo having half of it means it has negative effects on a universal scale.

           Also? Toffee’s picture comes up on the screen with the corn and everything? Like, Moon, pay the frick attention!        

           Another thing is that while Glossyrick claims to be doing his job to train Star to be a good Queen I still don’t feel…like he’s a good teacher. He plays the vague-advice thing way too much but then he kind of just lets Star do whatever she wants to anyway so…I don’t know if this is the most effective way to train Star since she is still just a young kid and has a hard-enough time paying attention. I don’t know if there is something to it but I don’t like how cavalier he is about things. The final few episodes’ kind of bugged me. Like, dude, this is her child’s future were talking about. She has every right to stick her nose in thank you very much.

           But Moon’s fears and the lesson she learns in this episode tug at the heart strings. This woman has to accept that her young daughter is growing up fast, into a universe that is facing some serious peril and Star will undoubtedly have to fight soon enough. Moon is afraid, the fear is palpable and she wants to make certain that nothing can go wrong. She probably does have some suspicions of what’s causing it but she can’t be certain. Also, Eclipsa? Heck yeah is she going to be important given how frequently she’s been name dropped.

           Things are getting serious in the universe of the show, Moon is afraid and she’s know that Star is going to end up in the middle of it. For a woman who already has so many huge responsibilities on her shoulders and yet she probably feels powerless to protect her only child.

           Gah! The feels!

l�zȒM"

Lena’s First Game Night

Lena Luthor does not shy away from challenges.

She’s tackled hostile business men – perhaps not literally (that’s her new girlfriend’s job), but effectively – and she’s survived her mother (enough said).

But this? This overly-casual invite from Kara?

“You don’t have to, you know, I know how busy you are, but if you wanted to, I’d love you to get to know everyone, but you know, you don’t have to – “

“Don’t be ridiculous, Kara, of course I’d love to spend more time with your friends.”

This sends her into a spiral that has her digging into her purse for her anti-anxiety medication, because she wasn’t lying when she told Kara that she was her only friend in National City.

But she was exaggerating slightly; because Kara was her only friend… anywhere.

So this idea? This idea of taking off her CEO blazer and fuck-me pumps to sit on a throw blanket with Kara and her sister and her sister’s girlfriend and their best friends – their family – and play board games and Mario Kart like she’s not horrific? Like she’s not vile?

Like she’s not a Luthor?

This idea is at once the nicest, kindest, sweetest thing anyone has ever proposed to her; and also the most terrifying.

Maggie knows, and Maggie talks her way past Jess: it’s not that hard, she just mentions Pam from HR and their outing the other night when Jess had that late meeting, and when it becomes clear that Maggie had no love for arresting Lena earlier; when it becomes clear that she’s concerned about her girlfriend’s kid sister’s girlfriend (”queer girl geography, right?” she jokes), Jess lets her through.

“Here to escort me out of my own building in handcuffs again, Detective Sawyer?” Lena glances up, holding in the amount hostility she’d normally show for Kara’s sake.

“Here to escort you to your girlfriend’s place for game night, actually.” Lena looks up from her paperwork with a slightly furrowed brow, and Maggie puts left hand under her lip briefly.

“Look, I… I didn’t have much by way of family. Before National City. Before Alex. And now… it’s scary. It’s scary, having people who just… accept you without an agenda, and want you to come eat potstickers and play crappy 90s board games in your socks on their living room floor, especially when they’re all already…”

“Family,” Lena supplies, skepticism still in her voice but shocked warmth growing in her eyes.

“Yeah. But Kara… Kara’s wild about you, Lena, and I… Here’s the thing. I understand what it’s like to feel like you don’t deserve a Danvers girl. But instead of beating myself up about it, I just try to earn it – earn her, earn Alex – every day. And I know you do the same for Kara. And she wants you there tonight, Lena. No one’s going to test you, no one’s going to ask you to prove yourself.”

Lena tries to swallow the tears stinging her eyes – she’s deeply unfamiliar with this feeling – and she bites her bottom lip slightly, at a loss for words.

“Unless you try to verse Winn in Mario Kart. He will try to crush you.”

Lena laughs, softly but irrepressibly, and Maggie grins. “Yes, he would be competitive about that sort of thing, wouldn’t he?”

Maggie nods and shoves her hands deep in her pockets. “I know Kara was gonna pick you up to take you over to her place, but I just… I don’t know. I could have used a pep talk from someone that wasn’t my girlfriend before my first game night with the squad, so… consider yourself pep talked.”

If Lena is expecting Maggie to ask anything in return – to hold anything over her for her kindness – she’s mistaken, because by the time she and Kara slip into an already full apartment about an hour later, Maggie greets her warmly from the floor, from Alex’s arms, but doesn’t give any indication that they’d just talked. Doesn’t give any indication that she’d just reached out to try to be Lena’s… friend.

“James Olsen,” James shakes her hand near the door with a small smile, and Lena gulps almost imperceptibly.

“A Pulitzer Prize winner, I daresay I know who you are, Mr. Olsen.” Also Kara’s ex. The pit in her stomach grows wider, but James smiles broadly.

“It’s just James,” he assures her, and pulls Kara into a hug.

“I’m happy for you,” he whispers, and she kisses his cheek while still holding Lena’s hand. Or, more accurately, while Lena keeps her hand in a vice-like grip.

She’s already met Alex, Winn, and Maggie, so none of them bother getting up, all engrossed in some sort of card game that has Winn screaming something about cheating and index fingers and unfairness in between waving enthusiastically at Lena.

She perches on the couch in front of them all as Kara sinks back in the pillows.

“It’s okay, Lena, you can relax. I promise,” she whispers, and Lena melts and leans back into her.

Alex glances up and grins.

“I hope your thumbs are ready for war,” she says, and Lena blanches slightly. Maggie leans her head back into Alex’s shoulder so she can meet Lena’s eyes.

“She means Mario Kart.”

“Winn takes it very seriously.”

“Hey, so does Kara, it’s not just me!”

“Oh please, Schott, you almost gave Maggie a bloody nose with your flailing last week!”

“The key word is almost, Danvers!”

“Yeah Alex, no need to take out my tech man with some index finger trick just because your girl’s face got in the way of his maneuvering – sorry Maggie – “

“Not at all, Olsen, I’ll just make sure to toss some turtle shells at you – “

“You wouldn’t – “

“Try me!”

Kara laughs along with the banter, and Lena just tries to follow it all. Kara watches her carefully, a soft smile on her face. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she kisses her cheek, and James smiles affectionately and nudges Winn.

“We’re outnumbered, man.”

Winn laughs happily and tosses aside his cards – he would never admit it to Alex, but he was losing anyway – to set up Mario Kart as Alex takes the opportunity of Kara’ diverted attention to kiss Maggie senseless.

Between Winn’s excited yelling and wild gesturing, James’s cheering a squinting, focused Kara on, and Maggie’s cheering a pursed-lips, focused Alex on, none of them notice immediately.

None of them notice immediately that Lena is silent but Lena is determined. That Lena’s expression is set, is fire, is blazing with the shock of being surrounded by people who love having her there, who toss their arms around her to grab more popcorn easily, who make sure she’s getting enough to eat, to drink.

Who only ignore her when they’re focusing on driving their Mario Kart characters forward.

Who notice her – who care – at every moment except exactly when she wants to be stealthy. When she wants to sneak up behind all of them, perfectly calculated to pull ahead with a burst of speed just on the last lap, with a brilliantly timed maneuver that puts her strategically-chosen Toad kart ahead of everyone else’s for a first-place win.

Kara beams and bounces on her seat and squeals because if she can’t win, then her girlfriend definitely should; Alex tosses down her controller and exchanges a slack-jawed expression of begrudging admiration with Winn; and James and Maggie try their very hardest not to giggle, not to tease Kara, Alex, and Winn over the ultimate Mario Kart upset.

Lena smiles nervously into the silence and shrugs. “It’s all about strategy, isn’t it?”

She gulps and she fights down panic and she fights down agony because maybe she shouldn’t have won. Maybe they accepted her only before she stole their spotlight, their rush.

But then Alex is leaning in and Alex is grinning and Alex is more than the hardcore, take-no-prisoners agent that unflinchingly and single-handedly blew up Lena’s mother’s most updated facility, because Alex is congratulating her and Alex is, “Okay, you’re definitely coming to this every week. Anyone who can make Winn lose like that? Definitely a keeper.”

She squeezes her sister’s knee and Kara beams and practically tackles Alex with a hug and Maggie nudges Lena softly while James and Winn egg on the tickle fight that ensues.

“Our Danvers girls, huh?”

Lena fights down tears again, worn out Play Station controller still in her hands. But this time, the tears aren’t anxiety or disbelief or distrust.

This time, the tears are just happy.

“Our Danvers girls, indeed.”

Bakushima/Kiribaku could be canon

Well okay, first of all I’m not that kind of big dreamer who thinks this really is gonna become canon ‘cause… not. Let’s be real, this is a shonen manga, read by a majority of teenage boys, and therefore, explicit shonen ai will never occur (hope i’m wrong).

If Horikoshi sensei was gonna make a m/m ship canon, probably he would start receiving some hate from his fans, which is pretty sad.

But on the other hand, implicit insinuation may occur, and I think that’s already happening. I’m gonna try to lay up some very canon moments beacuse Kirishima/Bakugou it’s just so great… <3

Keep reading

RFA - Proposals!

✿ This is for @salarinnar​, who wrote, 

Hello! I love your writing style so I thought I’d donate! How about MC asking the RFA + the minor trio to marry her? With all that getting on one knee and giving them a proposal ring jazz. Bless u.:) 

Thanks so much! I actually did the minor trio proposing to MC awhile ago here, so here’s the rest of the RFA!

(If you’d like a guaranteed request fill, but me a coffee on my Ko-Fi!


Yoosung

  • His mother puts the idea in his head, asking him when he’s finally going to propose to that lovely person he’s been seeing for so long. Yoosung swallows, nervous – it’s not that he doesn’t’ want to marry you. In fact, he’s looking forward to it, and often daydreams about having a happily married existence like his own parents share. But… he’s just…
  • Worried. He’s scared that he won’t be the right kind of guy for you, and he’s worried that you’ve changed your mind and don’t love him as much as he loves you.
  • So he frets. He asks his mom about how his father proposed, he asks his LOLOL friends how they proposed – hell, he asks V how he proposed, being so desperate to get input that he’ll put aside his own feelings for the man.
  • He gets a variety of answers, files them away, and keeps thinking.
  • When he takes you out to romantic movies, he watches your reaction to the lovey-dovey scenes carefully, taking inspiration from what you say about how the characters handle their own proposals. He reads books, he browses forum threads… and he thinks and overthinks the matter, trying to figure out how to best ask for your hand.
  • Yoosung gets the ring while he’s STILL not sure how to propose to you, and as he’s walking home from the store, he gets a panicked call on his cell.
  • You’ve found a baby bird and it’s broken it’s WING and YOOSUNG HELP you DON’T’ WANT IT TO DIE, PLEASE COME QUICKLY.
  • (you’re crying, and so he runs.)
  • Using his veterinarian skills, Yoosung helps you save the bird’s life, and you’re just so… happy and thankful and you hug him, telling him that he’s the best, and Yoosung falls in love with you all over again. You’re so kind! You’re so gentle! You’re so loving!
  • You’re so kind to everyone, even the smallest of animals, and on complete impulse, he gets on one knee and busts out his newly acquired ring.
  • It’s poorly thought out. It’s spur-of-the-moment. But he’ll never forget the way you light up and hug him, saying “yes!” over and over.
  • The two of you laugh about it afterwards, and decide that was probably the most memorable way it could have happened.

Zen

  • Zen knows you are completely and entirely perfect and, therefore, he knows that his proposal to you needs to be completely and entirely perfect in return. How he achieves this Holy Grail of Marital Intent, though, is a matter of some internal debate.
  • He considers going to stereotypical route of wining and dining you, but that’s a.) not really very him and b.) he can’t think of any restaurant that matches up to the vivacity that is you. Besides, he’s not really on-the-ball on the whole… restaurant scene, being that he’s a loser who can barely keep anything more than beer in his fridge.
  • He also considers surprising you on a date, like – at the zoo, or the aquarium. Or maybe on television in front of thousands during one of his on-screen appearances? But then it’s pointed out to him that, oops, a public proposal basically pressures you into saying yes, doesn’t it? And, if you do say no, it’d open you up to the onslaught of thousands of his angry fans.
  • No. He wants this to be between you and him, where you make a decision about your future that he’ll respect and appreciate either way… so he thinks more, and decides to go back to the roots of your early relationship.
  • He decides to take you stargazing.
  • Zen parks his motorcycle in front of your apartment one night, furiously texting you and begging you to come outside for an impromptu date. He already kind of checked to make sure you didn’t have anything planned, but he’s still over the moon when you a.) don’t get mad he rolled up the street at 11PM and b.) he hadn’t given you any notice.
  • (he thought it would be more romantic like that.)
  • You come outside to find him with a picnic basket strapped to the back of his motorcycle and a big smile on his face, and shaking your head, you get on behind him and let him take you on whatever wacky adventure he has planned.
  • He takes you up to your special place in the mountains, his jacket protecting your body from the cold and his back shielding your face. You have your arms around him, and you’ve never felt someone’s warmth as intently as in that moment.
  • The basket is full of all of your favorite foods, no matter how ‘dumb’ and ‘unromantic’ they are. Do you get all of your nutritional content from potato chips? That is ok, Zen has packed all the best flavors. There’s also a blanket, which he spreads out for you, and you lie back and look at the perfectly clear, beautifully expansive sky.
  • You and Zen talk for awhile, pointing out constellations and making your own, when he gets quiet and reaches into his pocket for something. He starts talking about how big the world is, and how happy he found you – you’re like his north star in the darkness of the night. And then he turns on his side, opening the box and looking at you with complete and total sincerity.
  • Will you marry him? He asks, with only the chirping crickets and the sound of the wind for company.
  • Of course you say yes. How could you not? And when you put the diamond on your finger, you reach out to touch the sky, and admire how the stone looks like one of those stars glimmering above.

Jaehee

  • Jaehee takes you to the aquarium.
  • It’s an atypical spot, which makes since given that she’s an atypical woman. You’re kind of expecting that Jaehee is going to pop the question sometime soon, as she’s been asking about your feelings regarding the future, settling down, etc, but when she invites you out that cool, rainy Saturday, you don’t really expect it’s going to happen then.
  • She does it near the end of the day, after she’s taken you to the dolphin show and endured you stopping at every exhibit and pointing out which fish represented which members of the RFA. (She bust a gut laughing when you said the flounder was Jumin.) You’ve already had lunch, and are thinking about going when you stop in the shark room, which is more of a tunnel than a room, really. The walls are completely made of glass and, all around you, you can an awe-inspiring assortment of fish swimming around you (and above you!) in a mysterious room lit by an ethereal blue glow.
  • You find an empty spot to stand, and you press your hands against the glass, completely entranced. Jaehee watches your profile, and then taps twice on your shoulder, sinking onto one knee when you look down at her.
  • She tells you, as she presents a ring to you in the dim light, that her entire life… she’s felt like she’s been living in a fish-tank. Confined, restrained, where she’s just been surviving under people’s apathetic gazes. She’s never felt like she could explore. Never felt like she could go on an adventure, because her entire world was defined by walls of unbreakable glass.
  • …Until she met you.
  • Now she believes in things. Now she dreams. Now she smiles, laughs, and no longer feels like she’s just some specimen kept behind a cold, unfeeling wall. And – no matter what you say, yes or no – that knowledge will always stay with her.
  • Will you… accompany her beyond the glass walls you’ve helped her shatter? Together?
  • (In the flickering, wavering light, you smile as wide as the sun and say, yes.)

Jumin

  • It takes a little bit for Jumin to propose, and before he does so, he takes you on a whirlwind tour of the globe using his private jet and vast amounts of money.
  • You eat baguettes in France. You see the architecture of Prague. He takes you on a tour of the castles of Scotland, and says that one day, he’d like to build one for Elizabeth the III. You go see the mountains of Iceland and the parks of Oslo, the beaches of Bermuda and see the sunset off the coast of Fiji. You sip margaritas, daiquiris, and pina coladas, you go horseback riding, you take pottery classes with Jumin and laugh as you make mistakes.
  • You go to art exhibits. Concerts. You go to parties and meet people, and you drag Jumin out on forest hikes in the dim, lonely woods. You see snow, rain, sunshine, you go to street markets and film festivals – you even go fishing with him and watch him pay a five-star chef to prepare what he caught into a delectable dish for the local catlife.
  • The two of you go to Istanbul, a land famous for its large population of street cats, and Jumin is content in a land that’s devoted to his favorite feline friends.
  • And… at the end of it, on a quiet, deserted beach at the end of the day, he pops the question.
  • He wanted you to see the world before he asked you to marry him, because he doesn’t want you to ever feel confined when you’re with him. He wanted you to know what’s out there before you settled down, and now that you’ve gotten a taste of so much the earth has to offer…
  • Do you want to stay with him still?
  • You say yes, saying that – while travelling was fun – it wouldn’t have been half as amazing without him there by your side. Wanting to go feed cats, falling off his horse, sharing food with him and laughing… The world’s amazing, yes, but it’s twice as amazing when you get to experience it with him.
  • For once in his life, Jumin is chosen because he is him, and because he made your travels worthwhile… and he smiles, thanking God once more that he got a chance to experience what life is like with you.

Seven

  • This man has an entire notebook full of ideas on how to propose to you.
  • There are so many good options! In the climactic moment of an epic laser-gun battle? Waved in the sky on the banner of a sport-class airplane? Using a small army of drones? Via youtube video? Oh man, he could do the classic “write it using the high-scores on an arcade machine”… but is that too cliché, by this point?
  • He only gets one chance to propose, so he should make it th-
  • Wait.
  • Who, exactly, said he had only one chance to propose?
  • (Seven sits down and begins to imagine the possibilities.)
  • He launches off the 2017 “War of Proposals” through a singing telegram delivered by a man cosplaying as Starshine Nyah-Nyah (from your favorite magical girl anime). Said war is a contest of strength, skill, and one-uppmanship, where the both of you compete to give the other more elaborate and unexpected proposals until one of you emerges the victor – and is allowed to have the “canon” one true proposal.
  • HELL YES, you say, and begin to plot.
  • You propose to him at the pool, by getting a dance studio to perform a choreographed routine in the water which ends up spelling out, “Please marry me!”
  • He proposes to you in the movie theatre, where he rents out adspace that he uses to play a video he’s constructed where he waxes eloquent about how amazing you are.
  • You propose to him in the air and space museum, where you drop out of one of the airplanes with an explosion of balloons and the words, “Seven, will you marry me?” emblazoned on your face like war paint.
  • He proposes to you by paying a bunch of newbies in LOLOL to die with their corpses spelling out “Will you spend your life with me?”
  • You continue to trade blows like this for an entire month. Television, radio, the internet – everywhere, there are traces of your continual war. It isn’t until he takes you on a trip to New York and then hacks into the Time Square billboards to deliver his heartfelt and impassioned request that he finally wins, because you cannot think of a way to one-up that.
  • You do, however, help Seven evade the cops after that, which he is content to call a “draw” in the end.
  • (The two of you were so busy plotting that neither actually bought a ring, so you go to the jewelry store and chose matching ones together.)
The Thing about Mary

It’s been awhile since I made a post about Mary… it’s overdue. *crackles knuckles, limbers up fingers*

It made no sense. None of what they wrote made sense. What was the narrative point of Mary? To “create” Sherlock Holmes and John Watson? I call bullshit; they were already that without any external help. Moreover, if that was her purpose all along, she sure did a lot to destroy that very thing: the dynamic of arguably the most famous and celebrated male friendship in English literature. Just in case we’ve forgotten: 

Mary started undermining both John and Sherlock, individually and together, from the moment she appeared on the screen. She had already interrupted John’s attempted proposal once to excuse herself to the bathroom or wherever she went (”Now then, what did you want to ask me?”)*, then interrupted him and corrected him and laughed at him throughout. Her pattern of gaslighting, demeaning, and manipulating him continues through every moment of their shared time together on screen. Nowhere is it more evident than in the opening of His Last Vow, wherein she basically follows textbook procedure on gaslighting, from correcting his perceptions (”about a month, actually”, “see? That does happen!”) to doing it in front of a third party (humiliation) to questioning his motives and abilities (”why you?”) to outright forbidding him to do something (”you can’t go”) to inserting her presence where he clearly didn’t want it, then trying to sugarcoat it all by giving him a compliment - one which he reacted to not with pleasure or a softening of his obvious anger, but with a terse statement that he was already aware of what she was complimenting him on. It’s an abusive relationship, full stop. 

*Shout-out to @blogstandbygo​ for pointing this out in our recent hang-out with @addictedstilltheaddict​ and another friend in Toronto last week

She inserted herself between them from that very first scene and made it clear that any form of friendship they were going to have was to happen through the medium of herself, and only on those terms. This was so clear to John that he patently disguised his intention to see Sherlock to her as of their first conversation about it (during which she was openly mocking his blog posts about Sherlock, another form of demeaning and humiliation). This forced brokering of their relationship led to John eventually being ousted from his own friendship with Sherlock (who was too distracted by Moriarty to notice Mary’s machinations, alas). John was so unhappy with this dynamic that became the least like his canonical self that we had ever been shown before that point, going so far as to actively seek out an affair. This is decidedly not like John Watson, the man who got himself arrested because someone insulted his best friend. Loyalty is as much a part of John as his thirst for adventure. He was made to feel so superfluous by the wife who compared him to a dog and the friend who didn’t notice what was going on that he was looking desperately for escape. 

Mary, on the other hand, never gave John her loyalty. She never even gave him the truth. She died without him even knowing whether her name was really her name (doubtful, given the sort of work she was doing while using it). Mary gave John nothing but lie after lie after lie. He could never trust a word that she said, and he hated it. She was willing to do anything to him, as long as it kept him by her side. She was willing to shoot the man he was still grieving years after his (supposed) death and never tell him after, no matter how much it would have devastated him to lose Sherlock all over again. As for Sherlock, she shot him without a second thought, smirking and condescending. 

Mary never once showed a shred of remorse for any of it. Not for any of her past crimes, which included killing people for money - not for anger, not for principle, not for political manoeuvring - but something as tawdry and meaningless as money. Gross. And she never regretted it. Not that the creators of the canon decided to show us. She never expressed any regret for having lied to John, nor for the way she constantly treated him. She never expressed any gratitude to Sherlock for having rid her of the blackmailer that would have sent her to prison for a very long time. She accepted it as her due, without blinking. She never thanked Sherlock, John, or Mycroft for having become accomplices in her attempted murder on Sherlock’s life in not having reported it. She assumed that was her right, too. Mary was a psychopath and narcissist, not caring about right or wrong, just what benefited her. 

Mary never changed her ways. There was no development of character, no softening, no realisation that everything she had ever stood for was completely terrible. Right to the last she was calling a man she had tried to kill a “pig”, offensively mimicking accents, still owning and carrying around guns and enough drugs to knock out a seasoned user. If anything, what we were shown was someone who had not only not changed, but someone who kept repeating the same behaviour. When the .A.G.R.A. team got into trouble on its final mission, Mary cut and run, leaving the other 75% of her team to be tortured or killed. She never went back and checked to see if a rescue mission was possible, never followed up, never confirmed the deaths of her teammates, just blithely moved on with her life and got married without once looking back. Sherlock offered to help her, twice. With the weight and power of the British government directly related to him, this isn’t exactly an offer to be taken lightly, yet Mary attacked him on both occasions, first shooting him in the heart and running away, then drugging him and running away - just as she left her former colleagues behind. 

If you want to take the argument that motherhood somehow redeemed Mary, think twice on that, too. I’m not a parent, but just about every mother I know would never leave an infant behind. Obviously it happens; infants get abandoned all the time. Most mothers don’t, though. Was Rosie not nursing anymore? Was she ever? Did Mary think about that before she cut and run, or was she too busy with her offensive faux-Jewish accent and possible flight attendant murder there? My mother used to tell me that her own life took on so much greater weight once I had been born because she had something to live for, someone who needed her. She stopped taking any sort of risk that would endanger her, because she had a child to care for. Mary doesn’t seem to have been similarly affected by parenthood. Her inexplicable and unsupported decision to jump in front of a bullet says that perfectly, if her previous abandonment didn’t. 

Never forget that John had the measure of Mary. It was John who knew that Mary would turn on Sherlock, should Sherlock warn her about Ajay and offer to help her again. It was John who grimly suggested putting a tracking device in the USB, knowing that Mary would attack Sherlock and steal it from him. While she was living, John had no illusions about who Mary really was. 

Mary’s decision to defy physics and leap in front of that bullet was not the culmination of an arc of redemption. What it was is a completely out of character action that jars with everything that came before it. It’s wholly unsupported by any of her previous behaviour. This was, if anything, a “redemption split second”, not an arc. Followed by her DVD wherein she pointedly tells Sherlock to kill himself or get himself killed, it is to be understood that this behaviour was an aberration from the norm. Mary never changed. If she had, she would have gotten rid of her guns and ninja outfits and come properly clean with John without waiting until circumstances forced it out, and even then only giving him partial truths. It could almost be said that Mary was pathologically incapable of telling the truth, but that would be making excuses for her. She knew what she was about. She made all of these decisions by herself, to benefit herself and her own interests. 

The Mary in John’s head never existed. It can’t even be discussed in a conversation about Mary’s characterisation, because it wasn’t Mary. It was John. And what John said about Mary at the end of The Lying Detective is a displacement of his own thoughts about Sherlock. John has a lot of dissociation issues in this episode in particular, and what he says about Mary is a statement which actually applies directly to Sherlock, not to Mary. This is John simply unwilling to believe that his marriage was as abusive and terrible as it really was, and trying to make himself feel better about it. The one person who genuinely believes that John Watson is a far better human being than he actually is is Sherlock, who calls him the “bravest, kindest, and wisest human being (he has) ever had the good fortune of knowing”. Mary literally called John a dog. That’s decidedly not what he was aspiring to. The one time she says something genuine about John’s moral superiority over her, it’s worded as a complaint (”you don’t make it easy, do you… being so perfect”). It’s as close to a real compliment as Mary ever gets. Sherlock is the one who believes in John, who sees past the temper and the grumpiness to all of John’s sterling qualities of loyalty, kindness, courage, humour, and accepts him as he is in his everyday self, too. 

The post-mortem DVDs just don’t even make sense. How did Mary know she was going to die? Even if she suspected that one of the many enemies her life of professional criminality had made would come for her eventually, it seems impossible to avoid the conclusion that Mary was still, even beyond her death, doing everything in her power to drive a wedge between John and Sherlock, even to have Sherlock die. For her to finally assume credit for their friendship is an insult to the intelligence of the viewers. 

Imagine Jensen confessing he accepted a role in a movie because he knew you, his celebrity crush, were in it.

Originally posted by dustydreamsanddirtyscars

“And here we are with the star of the movie, Jensen Ackles!” the woman grinned as Jensen did the same at her “Jensen, it’s so great to see you here! Tell me, how does it feel to be on the big screen after all this time in Supernatural?”

“Wow it is certainly… weird, I must admit. I mean I was and still am so used to the Supernatural family that I had a hard time processing it when I got asked for this movie, I almost asked them if they had the wrong number and wanted to call Ryan Gosling or something but no- they insisted they wanted me!” he laughed, shaking his head as you smiled behind the camera. Seeing as your own interviews were over about half an hour ago you decided to hang out behind the cameras to watch your co-star and… more than just that, have his own last interview.

“But I think everybody will agree to hear and see that you actually accepted it, right?”

“Well, my friends and family really were. I was so glad that above all I didn’t have to stop Supernatural for some time or anything, we managed to make it all work; because I honestly could not say no to this movie! There were so many things that made me say the big yes, but above all it’s Blade Runner who would say no to this role?” he laughed softly and the interviewer nodded her head.

“Agreed, and I think everybody was very pleased to see that you indeed were the best choice for Officer K to the point that they want more than just one movie now. Tell me, though, if you could pick the three top reasons that made you take the role: what would they be?”

“Uhm well, in no particular order I think one would definitely be me being a huge geek when it comes to Blade Runner. I’ve been a really big fan of the first one since I was a kid, you’d have no idea!” he chuckled “Another one would definitelybe the amazing cast and crew. Getting to work with such amazing directors and Harrison Ford himself is a dream coming true and something that really made me want to jump at the opportunity the moment I heard it!”

“That would seem as a good reason too, yeah. And one more?”

“One more, oh.” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck “I- I think I’m going to regret saying this, out loud that is but uhm-” he cleared his throat “Alright I’m just- I should say it quick and without waiting so-”

“So?” she asked “Your main reason I’m guessing would-”

“(Y/n)!” he exclaimed, cutting her off and her eyebrows shot up. She giggled as Jensen laughed nervously.

“(Y/n), wow that is something I… didn’t expect to hear and now- now I am intrigued. Do tell more?” she insisted and Jensen laughed nervously.

“Oh gosh, time to turn this into fifty shades of red.” he cleared his throat “I- I mean, have you seen her? There is no way I’d pass a movie when I found out she’d be my costar!”

“Costar and a lot more in the movie actually.” she said with a smirk and Jensen laughed, shrugging.

“Guilty” he shook his head “Point is, I know I am her biggest fan and I can fight anyone that dares to claim different, those scenes were just… an extra bonus.” he laughed “It would be a dream to be in a movie with her and- honestly? That was the first and main reason as to why I said yes.”

“So you’d say she’s your celebrity crush?”

“I would actually but-” he glanced around “Just because she always finds her way around here somehow I am going to refer from that because I won’t hear the end of it.”

“But you’ve become great friends, haven’t you? And you’ve only knows each other for what- two years now?”

“Uhm well, I’m going to be honest: it’s longer, much longer than just that. We- we met back in the beginning of Supernatural actually. I- I can’t remember why she was there during season 1, and neither does she, but yeah- we go way back.” he grinned nodding his head.

“Wow, really? I’m surprised something like this has slipped the fans’ radars considering how much of a buzz there isaround you two lately!”

“Trust me, that I know! Jared must be the number one shipper, that I am sure about!” he leaned back in his chair “And he sure as hell finds every possible way to tease me about (Y/n) whether I am talking with her on the phone, skype or just texting. He’s just found his new favorite hobby that is most certain!”

“I’m sure he has a lot of fun with that! But uhm let me ask you something else too: Seeing as your character actually proposes in the very end to (Y/n)’s character, do you think – being single for so long – you would ever take this step and with who?”

“Taking this step hm. Uhm well, honestly first I would really have to find the one-” he chuckled, glancing at the camera where he had spotted you from before and grinned “-uhm yeah, done already I think. There are a lot of things that need to be in a relationship especially if someone wants to spend the rest of his life with another.”

“Would you? I mean as I said you’ve been single for very long, do you think you could make it? Leave all you have for something unknown actually.”

“Well, it really depends on how I’d feel for the person and how they too would respond to be honest. But you know, if they’re the one- I wouldn’t hesitate to give up my life for them.” he shrugged, this time completely serious and only a soft genuine smile on his face.

“So this… one you found, because you said it don’t think I didn’t catch that-” she smirked pointing a finger at him as he laughed “Do you think she’d be the one? And no vague answers here, Mr Ackles because all these years of hunting have rubbed off on you and you are still avoiding to answer.” she narrowed her eyes at him and Jensen looked at you laughing as you grinned at him.

“I am not!” he raised his hands in the air “But if you so want an answer, ask her to walk in!”

“Ask who?” she looked around.

“The answer, obviously.” you said with a smirk as you made your way around the cameras to your costar and wrapped your arms around his shoulders from behind as you kissed his cheek.

“The answ- oh!” her eyes widened as hiding your face in the crook of his neck you raised your hand to show her the classic diamond ring on your finger.

“He’s a sap.” you chuckled, as he kissed the side of your head.

“Just the best for my fiance!”

Bitty is lounging on the couch in Jack’s apartment when his phone buzzes and Chowder’s sweet face appears. Jack’s asleep already. The life of a professional athlete such as he is. He’s intense about his schedule and maintaining it. Bitty however, is a bit more lax about it all, so he’s downstairs, flipping through channels since he’s not tired yet. He can guess why Chowder is calling. The Sharks are tied in the series for the Stanley Cup Final. Chowder has called him after every game to either cheer or weep.

Bitty swipes the screen and answers. “Good game tonight, eh?” Bitty’s picked up a few of Jack’s sayings. Shitty absolutely loves it. He sometimes calls Bitty and demands “Say eh! Please! I need a pick me up. Fucking law school.” Bitty always obliges. Jack says Shitty calls him and demands to hear some of Bitty’s Southern phrases in what Shitty calls “Jack’s dulcet Canadian tones”.

Chowder is out of breath. Probably from running around the block in celebration. “I’m gonna propose to her. When they win,” he exclaims. His voice is excited and kind of hoarse.

Bitty sits straight. “Pardon?”

“Farmer. Caitlin. I’m gonna propose when the Sharks win.” The absolute joy in Chowder’s voice is just adorable. But Bitty is too shocked by this news to really appreciate it.

“WHAT?!” he finally shrieks.

Chowder laughs, assuming that Bitty is as excited by this plan as he is.

Jack appears, blinking against the light, wearing nothing but a pair of baggy shorts and a confused frown. “Bitty. What the hell?” he whispers.

Bitty just holds up a finger and shoots him a look that screams, “Do not question me right now, Mr. Zimmermann.”

Jack holds up his hands and slides into the chair opposite. He kind of wants to see this play out. Also, he’s still confused as hell as to what’s even going on.

“It’ll be great, Bitty,” Chowder begins his explanation. “Farmer will be here tomorrow and Game 7 is the day after that. We’re going to have a big party to watch and it’ll be great.”

Bitty is just shaking his head now. “Oh, no. Oh no, no, no, no, no. You listen to me right now, Christopher Chow. If you propose to Caitlin Farmer at a party full of rowdy Sharks fans during the Stanley Cup Final, you will never get another pie from me again.”

Jack’s eyebrows shoot up and he blinks a few times before a slight smile appears.

“But, Bitty,” Chowder begins to argue.

“No, you listen to me. Caitlin Farmer is a wonderful, beautiful, amazing woman. And she deserves better than a proposal surrounded by drunken sports fans. This is like a jumbotron proposal. Don’t you do it, Chris. Don’t do the most cliché thing imaginable.”

Jack’s laughing now. Well, not so much laughing as shaking a bit silently while trying not to giggle.

“I love her, Bitty. I want to do this,” Chowder finally says after a long silence. His voice isn’t overly happy now. Now it’s nervous and soft.

“Chowder. Don’t put her on the spot in front of a bunch of strangers.”

“My family will be there,” he attempts to argue.

Bitty sighs. “That’s intimidating. Imagine being proposed to in front of a bunch of people who absolutely adore the proposer. Caitlin is a very laid back girl. She can handle a lot. But you can’t do it like that.”

There is an exhaled breath of defeat from Chowder. “I just want to marry her, Bitty. Isn’t that good enough?”

Jack makes a gesture to put the call on speaker and Bitty eyes him, wondering what’s going on in his gorgeous head. But he does it all the same because he trusts this beautifully awkward man.

“Hey, Chowder,” Jack says.

“Jack! Hey! Bitty said he was gonna visit you for a few days. I’m kind of jealous. You guys get to do so much cool stuff together,” Chowder starts rambling like he always does when talking to Jack.

Jack smiles. “So what’s going on? Proposing to Farmer?”

Chowder sighs again. “Bitty thinks it’s a bad idea.” The pain is clear. He just wants Bitty to approve of his plan.

“Well, what’s your idea?”

“I wanted to propose to her after the Sharks win the Stanley Cup.”

Jack’s face relaxes into that smirk of his that Bitty both loves and hates. “Ah. Well, I have to agree with Bitty on this one, Chowder. It’d be like proposing to her at an Epikegster. Everyone will be drunk and keyed up and she’ll feel obligated to say yes. Do you want her to say yes because she feels she has to? Wouldn’t you rather she says yes because she really wants to?”

The silence at the other end has Bitty fidgeting nervously. This is his sweet baby Chowder. He just wants the little goalie to be happy. As happy as he is with Jack.

“Yeah. You’re right, Jack,” says Chowder, his hoarse voice quiet and less chipper now.

Jack’s still smiling however. “Hey, Bitty. Mind if I take this from here?”

Bitty eyes his boyfriend with distrust. “What are you planning?” he whispers quietly.

Jack winks. Normally this makes Bitty swoon, but right now, it just makes him more suspicious. “Fine,” he stands. “But I’ll be in the kitchen. Waiting.”

Bitty scoots out of the room as Jack takes Chowder off speaker phone. His boyfriend is speaking too quietly into the electronic for Bitty to eavesdrop so with a huff, he slumps to the kitchen and pulls out the ingredients for pie. He’s too wound up to sleep so late night baking it is. To Bitty’s immense surprise, Jack doesn’t come into the kitchen until four hours later. He’s grinning and looks happy if not a bit tired since it’s now the middle of the night and Jack Zimmermann has a schedule, y’all. One he does not deviate from.

“Good Lord, babe. What did you and Chowder talk about for four hours?”

Jack shrugs. “Just some stuff,” he answers, purposely vague. He doesn’t manage to hide the slight sparkle of mischief in his blue eyes before he pulls Bitty into his embrace.

“What did you do?” Bitty mumbles, his words muffled by Jack’s chest.

“Do you think you could make a bunch of pie before Friday? Six should be good. Think you can handle that?” his boyfriend asks. Bitty glares and scoffs. Of course he can make six pies before Friday. Who does this handsome fool think he’s dealing with? Bitty ain’t no amateur. Bitty is about to make that clear, as well as grill Jack on what he’s been doing for the past several hours with Chowder, when Jack kisses him in that way he does and Bitty sort of forgets his own name.

On Friday, Jack loads the pies into his car and Bitty eyes him but he doesn’t ask. He’s been grilling Jack for days. But Jack Zimmermann is like a vault when he wants to keep a secret. Nothing, absolutely nothing (and Lord did Bitty try everything) would get that boy to talk.  Thankfully, Jack did convince Chowder not to propose after the final. The Sharks won. Farmer sent a video of Chowder sobbing with joy in front of the TV before grabbing a sparkler (from God knows where) and running through his parent’s neighborhood in full Shark regalia scream singing “WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS, MY FRIEND!” The whole team had a good laugh. Everyone chirped Chowder but the goalie was too happy to even care. He just sent a few “thank you” response texts.

Bitty continues to say nothing as he and Jack drive down to Samwell and pull up in front of Faber. Jack is trying to look innocent which only makes him look more guilty.

“What are we doing here?” Bitty questions, eyes narrowed.

Jack just climbs out. “You’ll see.”

They grab the pies and walk into the quiet rink. A janitor winks at Jack as they pass and Bitty just frowns. What is his boyfriend planning? Bitty is even more surprised when they see who is waiting in the benches.

“Bitty and Jack!” Shitty calls from the bench. “I’ve missed this fucking place.”

“Shitty was just telling us that he thinks you guys should have a round of naked hockey,” Lardo laughs and Shitty winks at her. She rolls her eyes.

“Dude. Naked hockey sounds way too dangerous for uh, certain parts of me,” Ransom flinches.

Holster agrees.

Dex and Nursey are arguing as usual but Nursey smiles and gets Dex in a light headlock which makes Dex laugh and roll his eyes. Everyone is happy to see the pies. Shitty especially. “OH GODS OF FOOD AND LOVE! I HAVE MISSED THIS!” he crows before immediately claiming an apple pie from the stack in Jack’s arms.

Bitty eyes the group and the bags at their feet and sides. “What’s all this?”

Ransom grins. “Jack had us grab some stuff on our way in.”

Shitty steps forward, eating his previously claimed pie with his hands. “So what now, Zimmermann?”

Jack smiles and immediately starts giving orders and the gathered team sets to work. Soon the ice has flower petals making a path to the goal beneath the massive windows. There are candles along the edges. There is soft music playing through the speakers. And on the score board, the names displayed are Chow and Farmer.

“Oh my God,” Bitty exhales once he realizes what’s happening. Jack just smiles. He doesn’t say a word. Instead, he keeps checking his phone.

As the sun is about to set, Jack’s phone buzzes. “Alright! Everyone hide!”

The group ducks behind the boards of the bench. Bitty finds himself squashed in between Holster and Shitty. Shitty takes this moment to pull Bitty into a busting hug. “Man, I’ve missed you, Bits. Say eh! Please!”

Bitty sighs. “Eh,” he says. Shitty laughs silently.

The team watches, peeking over the edge of the boards as inconspicuously as possible, as a very nervous looking Chowder leads Farmer out onto the ice. Luckily, Farmer has her back to the boards and doesn’t see the seven sets of eyes, watching silently. Farmer is laughing and making jokes. “You went to all this trouble to commemorate that time we did it on the ice? I don’t have a blanket this time. We can’t have sex on the ice without a blanket, babe.”

Holster and Ransom hear this and high five silently. “Get it, Chowder,” Holster whispers.

Shitty just smiles and wipes away fake tears. “They grow up so fast.”

Bitty just watches as Chowder mumbles and stumbles, so clearly nervous. Bitty sees Jack, hidden but still videoing the moment.

“So, I’m doing this here because this is where I realized I love you and told you and,” Chowder starts to ramble. He’s clearly terrified and Bitty just smiles. Farmer looks confused but she’s still looking at Chowder like he’s the most wonderful thing in the world. “After that game against Yale. I realized I loved you and I was so afraid because I’m well, not that cool, and you’re so amazing. And I was going to do this after the Sharks won.”

“Go Sharks!” Farmer cheers and it takes everything for the group watching not to make cute “Aw!” sounds.

Chowder beams and Bitty is just floored at how romantic this is. The first place Chowder realized he loved her. The first place he told her that he loved her. The setting sun casting a gorgeous pink and orange hue on the ice. Bitty feels a moment of jealousy. This was the proposal he thought he’d get from Jack.

“Caitlin Farmer,” Chowder takes a knee and the gasp from Farmer is loud. “Will you marry me?”

There is a long moment of silence. Chowder glances around, clearly terrified. “Um. Caitlin?” he presses.

“Yes!” Farmer shrieks finally. “Oh my God, yes!”

She tackles Chowder onto the ice and the group all stands and cheers. Lardo is wiping tears. Shitty is openly crying and shouting, “Fucking beautiful, man!”

Ransom and Holster are the first on the ice. They high five Chowder, telling him how proud they are. And impressed. Ice sex is cold and challenging. Who’d of thought that Chowder had it in him? Dex and Nursey tackle Chowder in a bear hug.

Jack turns off his camera and stands next to Bitty. They’re both watching the chaos. Farmer is asking Chowder for a long engagement. They’ll get married after they graduate, okay? Chowder agrees. Someone mentions pizza. Shitty mentions a celebratory kegster. Bitty just laughs.

“Thank you for helping Chowder,” Bitty finally says to Jack. “I love that sweet kid.”

“I know. That’s why I did it.” The admission makes Bitty melt a little. And here he thought it was impossible to fall more in love with this man. Though there is something that is still bothering him a little…

Bitty nudges Jack as they all begin the walk out. “I didn’t know you could be so romantic,” he jokes, though still sort of sad that Chowder got HIS proposal.

Jack slows his walk and the rest of the group moves on, leaving him and Bitty farther back, well out of earshot. “I learned from the best,” he kisses Bitty’s hair.

“I always thought,” Bitty begins but his voice tapers off and he can’t quite finish what he was going to say.

“What?”

Bitty sighs. “I thought that you’d propose to me like that. You know? On the ice, with the sunset.”

Jack tenses. For a moment, Bitty wonders if he’s pushed Jack too far too soon. But really. They’ve been together for a while. It’s only natural that Bitty’s mind would go there. But then Jack’s eyes soften and his lips quirk up and he looks superior. He pulls Bitty into a long, drawn out kiss. The kind of kiss that makes Bitty wish they were in a much more private place. Or at least had a blanket. Good point, Farmer.

“Don’t worry, Bitty,” Jack says, his breath warm on Bitty’s mouth. “I didn’t use all my romantic cards tonight. I have something better planned for you.”

With that, Jack pulls away and begins to walk down the hallway, leaving a blushing, hot Bitty to recover. It doesn’t take long. “Jack Laurent Zimmermann,” Bitty snaps as he rushes to catch the long legged stride of his boyfriend. “You can’t just say things like that and walk away! Good Lord.”

Jack just laughs and Bitty slaps him on his glorious ass, making Jack laugh more.

           “Does it need to be resized or something?”

           “Hm? Oh, no.” Steve answered, looking up from his hands. He’d been staring intently down at them for a while. More specifically, he’d been fiddling with the thick, glittering band wrapped around his finger.

           “Is it stuck?” Tony prodded, “I assumed you hadn’t been taking it off because you liked it…”

           “It’s not stuck.” Steve replied, and went back to gazing at his hand and twisting the ring around. Tony squinted his eyes, as if doing so would somehow give him a clearer picture of what was on Steve’s mind.

           “Do you like it?” Maybe it was too ostentatious? The ring was made of a vibranium alloy –specifically designed to withstand Steve’s violent lifestyle- and studded all around with gemstones, which were set deep into the metal so they didn’t pop out every time Steve slammed it into some bad guy’s jaw. Tony was trying his best not to go too overboard with everything, the ring, the proposal, the wedding that was fast approaching, but maybe it was still too much. Frankly, if Tony thought he could get away with it he’d have put the hope diamond on Steve’s finger. He’d have given him the moon.

           Steve just smiled and shook his head, and Tony couldn’t tell if it meant of course I love it, what a stupid thing to ask, or why on earth did you give me this gaudy eyesore.

           “I’ve just been thinking.” Steve said, finally, “I’m trying to figure out how to ask for something.”

           Tony sighed, relieved that there was no crisis, and closed the distance between them. He pressed himself against Steve’s broad chest, wrapped his arms loosely around his waist and smiled reassuringly.

           “Honey, you don’t have to be so embarrassed about asking for things.” Tony said, gazing up into Steve’s eyes, “First of all, you hardly ever ask me for anything, and when you do it’s usually some kind of wonderful, exciting sex thing and I am pleasantly surprised… If this is another sex thing then, god, I mean that’s… you’re so… I’m getting sidetracked. Second, no, third, I will almost certainly give you whatever you want because, as I’ve said before, I love to give you things. I wish you’d let me buy you more- and I know you say you don’t need anything but that’s not really the point of the exercise. I’m getting sidetracked again. I’m just saying if the moon was for sale…”

           Steve laughed. Tony felt him relax a little, and couldn’t resist leaning up for a kiss, which Steve seemed more than happy to give him.

           “It’s not a thing, exactly.” He said, when they pulled apart, “And you can say no.”

           “I know.”

           Steve took a breath, “When we get married…” Steve smiled brightly when he said the words get married, and Tony was reminded again exactly why he’d decided to do this terrifying thing, “I wanted to take your name.”

           Tony was taken aback. That wasn’t a possibility he’d actually considered. “You mean, legally? Changing your name?”

           “I know it’s a little old fashioned.” Steve admitted, his brow furrowing, “I just think when two people get married they should have the same last name. It feels… normal, and that’s usually in short supply.”

           “Hey, no need to justify it to me!” Tony said, “If you want to change your name that’s- actually that’s a little fantastic. Why the hell did you think I might say no?”

           Steve shrugged “It’s not like Stark is just a regular name. It’s important, and you put it on everything-“

“Not everything,” Tony said, looking very pointedly at Steve “Just everything that’s mine.”

Tony got a little thrill seeing the blush spread across Steve’s cheeks. He blinked a few times, apparently clearing his head, before he continued, “Um… I’d just understand if you didn’t want to share it with me.”

           “I want to share everything with you.” Tony said without thinking. His eyes widened as he realized what had just come out of his mouth, “Um… and it’s not like Rogers isn’t an important name, so there’s no reason to be intimidated.”

           “Please, Tony. I’m pretty sure most people really believe my last name is America…

           “Now there’s an idea! Mr. and Mr. America.

           Steve laughed again, and Tony pulled him closer. He would never get tired of hearing that.

           “Sometimes… not all the time, but sometimes, it feels like being Steve Rogers got taken away from me.” Steve explained, “I didn’t have a choice, but with this… choosing to give it up. For you, I could do that. I really want to.”

           Tony let go of Steve’s waist to hook an arm around his neck and pull him down for another kiss. If the ring was Tony’s way of saying I’m not going anywhere. You can stop worrying, then this felt like Steve’s answer. I’m not going anywhere either. Not ever.

           “Steve Stark… Steve Stark. That’s really not terrible.” Tony muttered. He pressed a quick kiss to the side of Steve’s mouth, “I could get used to that.”

Pride and Prejudice, and Consent

Time to cleanse the palate with a bit of positive relationship analysis!

One of the tropes that plagues, and has plagued, romance fiction ever since the invention of the novel is the idea of female consent not being necessary as long as the male is desirable and/or really wants her. Often, the heroine will succumb either to her own desires or his, whether she is entirely willing to do so or not, and that is framed as being analogous with passion—even love.

Well, two hundred years before Fifty Shades of Grey played fast and loose with consent issues, I present to you the antithesis of this trope in Mr. Darcy of Pemberley.

Elizabeth Bennet, the heroine of Pride and Prejudice, receives two proposals of marriage that are eerily similar, despite the outward differences of her two suitors. Mr. Collins and Mr. Darcy both spring unexpected and unwelcome proposals of marriage on her, calling to light her family’s lack of financial security and connection, seeing themselves as condescending to offer for her, and being completely perplexed by her refusal to accept them.

Elizabeth to Collins: You could not make me happy, and I am convinced I am the last woman in the world who would make you so.

Elizabeth to Darcy: I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.“

Elizabeth’s words leave no ambiguity for either gentleman: she soundly rejects them both in a similar fashion. From this, readers may infer that since Darcy and Elizabeth end up together, it is Darcy who is persistent in his romantic intentions after Elizabeth has said “no.” But in fact, it is Collins who refuses to take no for an answer, and Darcy who never oversteps his bounds.

The first thing Collins says after he hears her rejection is that she cannot be serious in her refusal. 

 "I am not now to learn,” replied Mr. Collins, with a formal wave of the hand, “that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second or even a third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have just said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long.”

So elevated is his own sense of self-worth that she has to explain to him that she did, in fact, mean what she said:

  “Upon my word, sir,” cried Elizabeth, “your hope is rather an extraordinary one after my declaration. I do assure you that I am not one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who are so daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal.”

What is the result? Collins still doesn’t take no for an answer, again:

  “Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so,” said Mr. Collins very gravely – “but I cannot imagine that her ladyship would at all disapprove of you. And you may be certain that when I have the honour of seeing her again, I shall speak in the highest terms of your modesty, economy, and other amiable qualifications.”

  “Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be unnecessary. You must give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the compliment of believing what I say.”

And again:

  "When I do myself the honour of speaking to you next on this subject, I shall hope to receive a more favourable answer than you have now given me; though I am far from accusing you of cruelty at present, because I know it to be the established custom of your sex to reject a man on the first application, and perhaps you have even now said as much to encourage my suit as would be consistent with the true delicacy of the female character.”

  “Really, Mr. Collins,” cried Elizabeth with some warmth, “you puzzle me exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can appear to you in the form of encouragement, I know not how to express my refusal in such a way as may convince you of its being one.”

And again:

   "You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin, that your refusal of my addresses is merely words of course. My reasons for believing it are briefly these: – It does not appear to me that my hand is unworthy your acceptance, or that the establishment I can offer would be any other than highly desirable. My situation in life, my connections with the family of De Bourgh, and my relationship to your own, are circumstances highly in my favour; and you should take it into farther consideration that, in spite of your manifold attractions, it is by no means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made you. Your portion is unhappily so small, that it will in all likelihood undo the effects of your loveliness and amiable qualifications. As I must therefore conclude that you are not serious in your rejection of me, I shall chuse to attribute it to your wish of increasing my love by suspense, according to the usual practice of elegant females.“

   ”I do assure you, sir, that I have no pretension whatever to that kind of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable man. I would rather be paid the compliment of being believed sincere. I thank you again and again for the honour you have done me in your proposals, but to accept them is absolutely impossible. My feelings in every respect forbid it. Can I speak plainer? Do not consider me now as an elegant female, intending to plague you, but as a rational creature, speaking the truth from her heart.“

And again:   

"You are uniformly charming!” cried he, with an air of awkward gallantry; “and I am persuaded that, when sanctioned by the express authority of both your excellent parents, my proposals will not fail of being acceptable.”

In fact, Collins only stops pursuing Elizabeth when her father puts his foot down and backs her refusal. Pride and Prejudice is a comedy, and so the tone is light on the surface, but beneath the satire is a very real, earnest desire to communicate how often women’s words—even their consent—are dismissed as fickle or inconsequential. Seeing our heroine not fleeing dramatically from a villain, but pursued by an entitled man who doesn’t take her words seriously, we feel Elizabeth’s sense of outrage and how belittling it is for Collins to act this way.

By contrast, though we might imagine a love interest like Darcy to be overcome with passion and try to make her his own by any means, Darcy is remarkably restrained and respectful without ever losing his ardent love for the woman he wants to marry. The first divergence of his response from Collins’ occurs right after he has been rejected:

   "And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance.“

The wording here is important. He doesn’t demand that she explain why she rejected him, but rather why she was so impolite about doing so (since he has no knowledge of her dislike of him). He continues to be honest about his objections to her family’s behavior and place in the world, and to be angry at her for defending the duplicitous Wickham, but he never tries to convince her that she was wrong in rejecting him, even though he still views her as a social inferior.

After their heated conversation, Darcy leaves with an apology that he has occupied her for so long:

   "You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.”

This is a far cry from Collins following Elizabeth around after the proposal and trying to go over her head to her parents for support.

But wait—doesn’t the love interest write Elizabeth a letter, convincing her to give him another chance?

No. Both Darcy’s letter and its method of delivery are respectful of Elizabeth’s boundaries and her refusal of him.

It should be noted that an unmarried gentlewoman receiving letters from a man she was not engaged to resulted in scandal if it were ever exposed. If Darcy had wanted to compel Elizabeth to marry him, he would only have had to deliver the letter publicly, or through the post. Instead, he delivers the letter in person, when they are alone in a park and there is no chance of discovery. It is still a bit of a risk, though, and so he asks (not demands) that she read it:

“Will you do me the honour of reading that letter?“

Right from the beginning, Darcy reassures Elizabeth that he is not trying to impose on her or get her to accept him after she has made her wishes clear:

 "Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments or renewal of those offers which were last night so disgusting to you. 

While it is more than apparent that her rejection stung and he is still in love with her, he never brings up the subject of the proposal again—the contents are a defense of the charges she had laid against his character, as well as a warning against Wickham for her own safety. He doesn’t ask for a second chance or demand she reconsider her words, even in light of this new information. Moreover, he trusts her with the knowledge of his sister’s near-elopement with Wickham (which could cause a scandal if discovered), thus risking as much by delivering the letter as Elizabeth does by accepting it. In every way, he trusts her judgment and keeps her wishes in mind.

When they meet again at Pemberley, Darcy is trying to reform his behavior. He is cordial to her tradesman uncle and aunt, and has divested himself of the haughtiness that prevented her from seeing his true worth initially. Darcy does not give himself permission to pursue Elizabeth as a result of this change in character; it is only after they have met and talked cordially that he asks her, not to speak with him alone, but to meet his sister. In fact, he resists making romantic overtures for the duration of the visit, which ends abruptly when Elizabeth discovers her sister’s elopement with Wickham. And even there, when she and Darcy are accidentally alone during her distress, he makes no move to use the occasion as an excuse to “comfort” her with his advances. His reaction is, in fact, quite the opposite:

 "I am afraid you have been long desiring my absence, nor have I anything to plead in excuse of my stay, but real, though unavailing, concern.”

Another opportunity arises for Darcy to compel Elizabeth to marry him, this time out of gratitude. Unable to see Elizabeth so wretched, he finds Lydia and Wickham in London and, at great expense, convinces them to marry. He saves not only her sister’s reputation but that of her entire family. Yet rather than use that as an example to Elizabeth of what a good person he is, he forbids her aunt and uncle from mentioning that it was he who saved the Bennets’ good name. Elizabeth doesn’t even know he was involved until Lydia thoughtlessly gives the game away (after she, too, was sworn to secrecy).  

How then, do Lizzy and Darcy get together? It is Elizabeth herself who gives Darcy a reason to believe her opinion of him has improved. During a verbal duel with Darcy’s formidable aunt, she comes out the winner and point-blank refuses to give Lady Catherine a promise not to pursue Mr. Darcy. Lady Catherine petulantly tries to cut the problem off at the source by relating everything to her nephew. It works about as well as you’d expect.

 But, unluckily for her ladyship, its effect had been exactly contrariwise.

   "It taught me to hope,“ said he, "as I had scarcely ever allowed myself to hope before. I knew enough of your disposition to be certain, that had you been absolutely, irrevocably decided against me, you would have acknowledged it to Lady Catherine, frankly and openly.”

What prompts Darcy to renew his offer of marriage is nothing more or less than evidence that Elizabeth had seen his change of heart and accepted it.

“You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once.My affections and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.”

Above is Darcy’s second proposal. After hearing her first rejection, he takes her at her word, respectfully gives her information that might have led her to mistaken conclusions about him, leaves even before he is asked to, reforms his own behavior, never takes advantage of their being alone to make unwanted advances, assists her and her family without taking any credit, and once he has seen enough signs to think she might accept him, renews his offer once and only once. If she says no again, unlike Collins, he will not continue to pester her or seek her out. He will not try to convince her that her decision was wrong. It is a sad statement on society that this is a remarkable thing, no less in the real world than in fiction, and all too prevalent in heroes of romance even two hundred years later. There is no shortage of love interests who mistake passion for permission, conflict for consent, and adversity for flirtation—but there is also no excuse for this to continue, particularly now. If a novel published in 1813 can understand the letter and spirit of consent, I think we can do better in our own time.


EDIT: Continued here.

4th July

On the first day of the month, Steve arranged things.


Hotel and cab booked, tickets sorted, overnight bag packed. He was ready to go at a moment’s notice. He’d even pre-written his letter of apology to the others, in case he didn’t have time to say goodbye.

He was prepared.

Last year, he’d been stupid. Left it too late, and then faced the consequences throughout the whole damn week.
He wasn’t going to be stupid this time. He was prepared, see.


Unfortunately, it was very difficult to plan anything when you had people like Tony Stark living in the same tower as you. That man was predictably unpredictable. Damn him.


“Steve?” Came the confused voice from the door, and Steve jerked, turning around quickly and looking up, spotting Tony leaning against the wall with his arms folded, looking at him in confusion.

Well, not him. The bag he was re-packing was what was grabbing all the attention right now.

“What… what are you doing?” Tony asked, brow furrowed deeply as he stepped further in and took a shirt from the pile of luggage. Steve quickly snatched it back, stuffing it into his bag defensively.

“Nothing, Tony, I’m just…packing,” Steve muttered, searching for his toothbrush among the mess.

Tony paused, and Steve got the feeling he was holding back a sigh of exasperation. “Hmm- yes, I gathered that much. I was just wondering, y’know, why?”

Steve kept his eyes fixed on the shirt he was folding in front of him. “Birthday plans,” he lied, before spinning around to face Tony, preparing to usher him back out of the door.


He stopped when he noticed how obviously Tony’s face had fallen, and the hurt look that was lingering on his face.


Fucking Tony. It had to be Tony who had caught him. Anyone else, and he probably could have just let it slide.


“What’s wrong?” he said with a sigh, because he was a fucking sucker.

Tony quickly smoothed his face over and smiled, that horrible brittle one that made Steve want to argue relentlessly with him, just to bring out some semblance of an emotion on his face instead of that thing. “Nothing, nothing. Go, be free, it’s your birthday, you need to relax. I’m happy you’re actually taking a break for onc-”

“Tony,” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow and grabbing his shoulders between his two hands, “what’s wrong?”

Tony paused, and for a moment it seemed as if he was going to continue to bullshit his way through it, but then his face just sort of…fell again, and he shook his head. 

“I…uh, remember we had- uh- plans? Your big party at the tower! and then you and me were going to catch a movie afterward? I don’t… I mean, obviously, you’ve got other plans, and that’s fine, I don’t mind, honestly,” Tony assured him, blustering around back and forth between his two feet and generally looking like he’d rather be anywhere else than in Steve’s room.

As soon as Tony had begun speaking, Steve realised he was right. Shit. He hadn’t been paying too much attention to the dates when Tony had spoken about it- too busy having a little crisis over the fact that Tony had pretty much asked him out to notice about the when and where of it all.

Shit.

“I…” Steve stumbled, trying to think of what to say to try and fix this, to try and not be such a stupid fucking idiot, “I’m really sorry, I forgot completely-”

Oh, fuck, that just made Tony look even more sad. Steve was pretty sure if he looked any more upset he’d make Steve start crying through fucking exposure.

“No, wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly, grabbing Tony’s forearm desperately, “I was just… God, I just need to leave for a week. Okay?”

“Why?” 

Steve winced. “I just… have to, okay, but we can do it when I get back! I-”

“Steve, if you don’t want to, and you’d rather be alone, that’s absolutely fine,” Tony said, giving him a sad smile as he began backing away, “you go, uh, do your thing. Have fun, be merry, it’s your birthday, you deserv-”


“I can’t handle the fireworks,” Steve blurted, and then immediately balked.


Shit. Shit shit fuck shit fuck fuck shit, he shouldn’t have told Tony that. He’d made sure not to let anyone know that, God dammit, it was so fucking stupid-


“What?” Tony asked blankly.

“Nothing,” Steve jumped in immediately, desperately trying to quell the sickening shame in his gut and the red on his cheeks as he put an arm on Tony’s shoulder and started pushing again, more forceful this time, “listen, Tony, I’ve really got to get back to-”

“You can’t handle fireworks?” Tony asked again, and shit, it didn’t seem like he had missed that like Steve had hoped.

Steve stopped. Sighed. Let go of Tony’s arm and turned away. “uh, yeah- no, I can’t. It’s a thing, I don’t know, I just… I’m fine, I’m just gonna… head out to the country for a week or so, because, y’know,” Steve gestured vaguely to himself, “4th of July and all.”

“Lots and lots of fireworks,” Tony said slowly, eyes widening a little in understanding. “Right.”


They stood in silence for a moment, before Tony opened his mouth again. Steve, however, got in first.


“Please don’t, Tony,” he said, shaking his head, “whatever you’re about to say, I don’t… just leave it. I’m fine.”

“But it’s your birthday,” Tony said weakly, “don’t you want to… I don’t know, celebrate that?”

“Maybe in a world where I’d never gone to goddamn war, yeah,” Steve snapped angrily, “I would love to get through one fucking birthday without screaming, y’know, would be swell, but unlucky for me, life doesn’t agree. So sorry I’m not gonna be present this week, but believe me, it’s for the best.”


He was fucking tired. What the fuck was it with people setting off fireworks a week in advance to the fucking celebration? It made no fucking sense and Steve was sick of coming back to himself after a minute of sheer panic and realizing he’d crawled under his fucking bed to stop the non-existent shrapnel burying itself in his skull-


Tony said something, but it was white noise to Steve, and he’d marched out of the room before any of it could sink in anyway.




It was 4am. Everyone was asleep. No one would notice him slipping out, and he’d left his note for them in the morning. Turns out it was easier to explain his absence on paper than it was face to face.


“Steve! Just wait a second!”


God fucking dammit.


Wearily, he turned again, watching Tony hurry toward him, jumping down the stairs two at a time in his ratty jeans and faded band tshirt. “What do you want, Tony?” He asked.

Tony stopped moving once he got to Steve’s side and grabbed his hand excitedly. “Listen- I’m going to propose something awesome to you that you really should have thought of before deciding it was best to fuck off into the middle of nowhere on your own, but whatever, I won’t hold it to you, I am a genius-”

“Tony,”

“Right, yes, yes, okay,” Tony paused, and took a breath before looking Steve in the eye. “Let me come with you?”

Steve stopped. That was… certainly an idea. Bad or good, Steve wasn’t too sure.

“ I know you might think it’s weird and forward or whatever, but a) fuck the stereotypes, just as a matter of principle more than anything, and b)-” Tony’s hand tightened briefly around Steve’s as he shrugged in an attempt at nonchalance that, in Steve’s opinion, didn’t work out for him very well, “you shouldn’t be alone on your birthday, Steve. That just sucks. You… you deserve better than that. You deserve someone to be there with you.” He shrugged again, biting his lip, “and I know I’m not like, y’know, this Special Thing or whatever, and really you should have someone better here for you, but at the moment everyone else is asleep and-”

Tony was cut off as Steve laid his hand across Tony’s moving mouth, effectively silencing the fast-derailing thought process. He couldn’t help but chuckle a little as he watched Tony just stand there, Steve’s hand over his mouth, not knowing quite what to do.

It was honestly more than a little adorable.

“That would be… nice,” Steve admitted softly, “but Tony- it’s really late, and you have work, and I don’t want to inconvenience you-”

Tony scoffed, removing Steve’s hand to speak. “Believe me, this would be my pleasure. I’m pretty sure Fury’s out for my head this week anyway, so I need somewhere to lay low. Don’t sweat it, Rogers, I’ve got it all sorted.”

Steve looked at him for a moment; watched the way his gaze flickered briefly from Steve’s eyes to his mouth and then back up, or the way his heart was beating just that little bit faster than normal through the pulse in his wrist.

“Sure, Tony- come along for the ride,” Steve said with a smile and a fond roll of his eyes.

Tony positively beamed, and then held up a finger as he rushed over to the kitchen counter, where he pulled out a bag of his own and then hurried back to Steve’s side, still grinning.

“You were confident, then,” Steve said dryly, eyeing the bag full of stuff.

Tony raised his eyebrows. “I am very persuasive. I hedged my bets.”

Steve just huffed and hid a smile behind his hand as he pulled Tony into the elevator with him, feeling the all-too-familiar sensation of butterflies in his stomach as Tony smiled up at him.




The sky was beautifully clear, and the place was utterly, utterly silent.


Well. Apart from Tony. Of course.


Don’t you think it’s so incredible? Literally, Steve, look at them. Look at those insignificant, stupid little dots in the sky. They created every atom in your body. Every atom on this planet. Each atom in the visible universe. And they’re up there. We’re looking at…creation,” Tony gushed, hands waving through the air as they pointed at random objects in the sky.

They were both sat on the grass outside the tiny barn Steve had rented, a blanket under their backs as they stared up into the blissfully clear skies.


The stars hadn’t changed. That was all the same, at least. It was comforting.


“-and, I mean, there’s so much we don’t know yet, and probably never will. It frustrates the damn hell out of me. I hate not knowing stuff. Main reason I never pursued astronomy or theoretical physics. Theoretical physics, Steve- a whole branch of science dedicated to not knowing things,” Tony shuddered, and Steve felt it reverberate through his shoulder, “Good lord, the horror.”

Steve just smiled and nodded along, listening as Tony explained how stars were made and something about dark matter. Steve didn’t really follow it. He was more interested in how Tony’s hands moved, and the way the moonlight illuminated each curve and crease in Tony’s face, and the fact that he hadn’t thought about bombs even once since this trip-

“Thank you,” he whispered suddenly, cutting through Tony’s speech more effectively with those two quietly spoken words than Fury could in a direct scream.

There was silence as Tony paused, and turned his head to look over at Steve. He opened his mouth, undoubtedly to ask ‘what for’ before he caught on and nodded in understanding.

He didn’t say anything. Just grabbed Steve’s hand and linked their fingers together. 

Closing his eyes and once more reveling in the silence and lack of terrifyingly familiar hisses or whines that had always haunted his birthday before, he brought Tony’s hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles there.

Steve heard Tony exhale ever so slightly, and felt with amusement as his pulse suddenly spiked. Neither of them said anything, but Tony shifted a little after a few moments; shuffling closer until his body pressed against Steve’s. 


“Happy birthday, Steve,” Tony said softly, his head falling against Steve’s chest.


It was soft and silent and perfect, and Steve let his spare hand trail aimlessly over the soft curls of Tony’s hair as they lay there on the thick grass in the dead of night. Honestly, they probably needed to talk about a few things that had changed tonight.


But for now, Steve was just going to enjoy the stars above him and Tony beside him and the fact that the world appeared to have stopped, just for tonight- just for him.

Imagine Castiel helping you put the baby crib together becaue your boyfriend, Dean, is away trying to find a ring to propose.

“(Y/n)” you heard a rough voice and you looked up from the floor you were sitting to see your best friend looking at you with that characteristic head tilt of his.

“What are you doing?” he frowned and you looked down.

“Oh just trying to find my way around this thing but to be honest putting together a gun is so much easier.” you let out a frustrated sigh but ended up chuckling.

“(Y/n)” Cas sighed himself “I told you I was going to do this, you don’t have to stress out yourself. We don’t want any complications with the baby.” he said as he knelt next to you.

“Cas, relax.” you giggled at his worried expression “Despite how effin messed up this is, the baby will be just fine, he or she’s a Winchester with Dean Winchester as a father. I think that if we can be sure for one thing is the stubbornness this baby will have in it.” you chuckled and Cas gave you a half smile.

“Dean would probably try to deny this but… I must say I agree.” he confessed as he came to sit next to you and you giggled at him.

“Besides, if anything: I have had to put up with him during my entire pregnancy with all my hormones going crazy. I think I have so much patience now to last an entire life!” you said as he took the manual from your hands.

“That I know, but Sam and I are here for you too (Y/n). Well, Sam is technically gone at the moment but-” he nodded his head with a frown “I promised you that whatever you needed help with, I would be here with you to help.”

“I know, Cas, but at the same time it’s not really your job. I know you consider the baby family, as I consider you one but-”

“But if I can then I will help you.” he said gently but firmly “Besides- I’m very good at following instructions.” he said as he flipped through the pages.

You smirked slightly, your hand landing on your belly almost out of habit now “Is it the angel Castiel that rebelled against heaven and broke every rule known to them speaking?”

Castiel looked at you opened his mouth before closing it and pursing his lips. He squinted his eyes before clearing his throat and looking back down at it.

“You’re just amazing.” you chuckled, kissing his cheek and making him relax “But I’m just kidding, Cassie. You know I always appreciate your help.” you placed another hand on top of his and he smiled softly.

“It’s always my pleasure, (Y/n). Anything I can do to make you feel better. Speaking of which- How are you feeling?” he glanced down at your hand and you did the same.

“Huge, that’s for sure.” you laughed “But I won’t bother you with that, I always take it all out on Dean anyway.” you shrugged and he smiled.

“It will soon be done, there’s not much time left until the baby comes. And I know for sure that’s when Dean will make up to you for all of this.”

“I don’t doubt that Cas.” you smiled down at your belly “He is already an amazing father even if none of us really expected this to come. It’s just-” you sighed, looking around your mood almost instantly changing but it was less intense than the first months of your pregnancy.

“Just what?”

“You know, Cas, the thing about this is not that I don’t want you to help me build up the crib. It’s that it should be Deanhere with me, not you, not Sam not anyone and not me myself, putting all the pieces together like every couple should. But no- hunting always comes first as it seems, and he and Sam are gone the moment they catch wind of some case.”

“(Y/n)- it’s not like that.” he looked down.

“Then what is it like? I mean I’m not always demanding things from him, actually never, but for this I hoped that- that he’d really want to be there. I guess- I just need to be a little more patient.” you shrugged, almost tired and Castiel only looked at you with a frown.

He wished so bad he could say something, anything to make you feel less bad about this but then how could he utter that Dean had left you all alone because he was trying his best to find the perfect ring to propose to you but never felt anything was good enough for you?

Want it? | Draco Malfoy x Trans!Male Reader

Warnings: Smut, Dom!Draco, Masturbation, Choking, NSFW gifs

Words: 1954


(Y/N) POV:

To say I was a hot topic around Hogwarts was quite the understatement. Ever since my second year when word got around that the guy from the muggle family actually had a vagina! Apparently the pure-bloods had never had any experience with such a thing. Most called it muggle magic and they all practically tripped over themselves to ask me questions. Eventually they died down as all things do, until I returned my fifth year having gone through top surgery. That brought on its own wave of questions.

Draco Malfoy was no different. At first, when he discovered my identity he called it ‘revolting’ and 'unnatural.’ Although, he too came around in our fifth year and we dove into a friendship neither of us expected. Nothing had prepared me for him as the same could be said from him about me. Being hormonal teenagers, there was always a tension between us. It wasn’t until the middle of our sixth year that he relieve it.

.

“Draco!” I whined softly, he had just dragged me out of the common room and was pulling me hastily down to some empty corridor.

“Where are we going?!” He let out a growl and mumbled something about me needing to shut up. He stopped abruptly, gripping my hand tighter as he glanced around quickly. His hand were on my hips for mere seconds to place me firmly against the wall.

He slammed his hands on the wall on the sides of my head, breathing heavy with a look of irritation painted on his face.

“Do you have any idea? The things you do to me?” He whispered softly, his lips curling in anger as he breathed softly into my ear. I swallowed the growing lump in my throat before uttering weakly, “I-I don’t understa–”

“ALWAYS!” He spoke louder now, his body nearing mine, but keeping a space between us in a teasing way. He softened as he saw the clear fear in my eyes, he dropped his hands to grip the sides of my shoulders, squeezing softly as he leaned into my ear again.

“The way you sound, your walk, bloody hell even your scent! You drive me absolutely mad. I want to ravage you, mold this pretty little body to fit against my own.”

I let out a soft whimper, feeling heat rush not only to my cheeks but between my legs as well. Before I could manage to stutter something in response Draco spoke again.

“You are the brightest part of my life and would like to propose you be my boyfriend, (Y/N). Would you accept?” He pulled away from my ear, watching my face contently as he drug his fingertips lightly down my arms.

“Uh..y-yea, I mean, yes. I-I would accept.”

He smirked in approval, “That’s my boy.”

His hands met my hips and his lips crashed against my own. He let out a soft hiss as his tight pants gained the smallest amounts of friction from my hips.

“Just one thing, love.” He said softly, “I am not a very 'publicly affectionate’ man and I don’t want you to expect anything else.” He was stern now, waiting until I nodded before reuniting our lips.

.

On that night, I hadn’t realized that 'not being publicly affectionate’ meant not telling anyone about our relationship. Of course I was hurt, who wouldn’t be? He never told me why, he merely said it was not the time to introduce a new relationship to everyone. I had spend may hours contemplating what exactly could be his reason, not my bloodline, as even though I was raised by muggles, I was a pure-blood. I’d first thought it was the fact I was a male, but it’s been over a year and he seems quite comfortable in his own skin.

Tonight, some Ravenclaw girl had managed to get the Room of Requirements to have a nice set up for a party. Rumor has it that some kids had snuck in firewhisky and vodka, which most were excited to try as they’d never had muggle alcohol. Of course I was going, Draco and I already had yet another continuous fight about finally telling people we’re together. I was tired of Pansy throwing herself on him, literally.  She’d let out small giggles when he’d crack jokes, dragging her fingertips on his arms. She’d always whisper in his ear or hook her arm in his as they walked. Malfoy of course never had a feeling for her, but still pitied her school girl crush. He let her do as she pleased, actually working as a nice cover.

Every time I saw her hands on him I felt my cheeks grow red with anger and Draco would always shoot me his ’I’m sorry, baby’ look and make it up to me later. Tonight was for me, a night to get drunk, dance to something, and crash. The party wasn’t for hours and well, being a seventeen year old boy, I was horny. But there was no way I was going to be the first to run back to Draco to get satisfaction. I knew he’d be aching as much as I am as we haven’t had sex in a solid two weeks. As we were both stubborn as hell, we both weren’t going to be the first to apologize. I walked up to the empty dormitory and did as I knew best, masturbate, but be sure Draco walks in on me.

It wasn’t a hard game. He could practically smell my arousal a mile away, much less sense when I’m pleasuring myself. I was slow, setting up nicely, I’d do one of Draco’s favorites. He loved to see me touching myself on his bed, don’t ask why, but I’m certainly not complaining. The scent of him surrounding me was euphoric.

I undresses slowly, settling down on his bed. I lowered myself down on the bed softly, teasingly, there was no fun in masturbation if you don’t take your time. Within minutes I was struggling to keep myself quiet as I sunk my fingers into myself.

“A-Ah! Draco! Fuck!” I moaned softly, circling my hips downward softly. My eyes were knitted closed as I felt the pleasure begin to build, my body beginning to become more desperate, more sensitive as I thought of my white-haired lover.

“And what do you think you’re doing, baby boy?” Draco snarled, leaning against the door frame, trying to keep a stern look on his lust painted face. “If you need something, you’re supposed to come to me, kitten.”

I glared at him, still standing my ground, “Oh? Last time I checked you don’t want to help me with anything. You’re too busy helping Pansy.”

His jaw clenched as he inhaled sharply though his nose. “Get dressed,” he spoke low through closed teeth, “the party starts in ten minutes. I’ll see you there.” He stormed out of the room, leaving me alone, naked, and much more upset that I was at the beginning of my endeavor.

I dressed quickly, not bothering to finish myself off. I’d do it later when I was drunk and lonely. I walked to the Room of Requirements and entered to what seemed like a muggle club. The lights were low and muggle music was playing, a few dark booths were on one side of the room, a large space for dancing on the other. There was a bar in the back and I rushed there quickly. I ordered a glass of firewhisky and began wandering the neon-lit room for a familiar face. Malfoy was in the corner near the dance floor, Pansy already leaning on him in a fake drunken state.

I growled softly, glaring at her pathetic attempts to seduce him. I grabbed some fifth year Hufflepuff I had spoken to a few times and dragged him onto the dance floor as a song began. The beat was dark and playful, a song meant for couples to grind to. I pulled the young boy against me, pressing the tip of his nose against my own. Poor kid didn’t know what hit him. He was flushed and turned on by my teasing and I’ll admit I was using him, making sure I caught Draco’s eye before I grabbed the kid’s tie and rolled my hips against him. I locked eyes with Draco and let out a fake moan. His eyebrows furrows and I could practically hear the growl that left his scowling lips.

Draco whispered something to Pansy, grazing her hip softly with her hand before heading my way. As he neared, he glared at me angrily, he grabbed my arm with a rough grip and dragged me with him back to our common room. He gripped my wrist tightly as he rushed up to the dormitories, shoving me down on his bed with a snarl.

He climbed over top me, placing a hand lightly on my throat, leaning down, coating his lips with his own saliva. “You want people to know? Want them to know you’re mine. Fine. Then I’ll let them know.”

He kept his hand firm on my throat as he sunk his teeth into the underside of my jaw, causing me to whine softly. His other hand was roughly pulling my pants down, not wasting any time to strip me completely.

I slid my hand down to cup his hip, raking my fingers along the material of his shirt, dragging it up his torso. His hands came down to push my hands away from his body, shaking his head with a smirk.

“Mmm,” I whined softly, “Draco, please!” His fingers slid down to my wet pussy, trailing softly along the slick surface, just leaving the ghost of pleasure, letting out a breathy laugh at my whines and desperate moves.

He brought his wet fingertip up to drag my bottom lip down, softly.

“You want it? Want me to fuck you so hard the whole school knows you’re mine?” I nodded frantically, reaching up to try and meet his lips with my own. His hand met my throat again, applying a light pressure to the sides. He slid his pants low on his hips and slammed himself into my tight hole, letting out a groan as he endured the warm, tight feeling of me around him.

Draco wasted no time slamming into me at a fast, hard pace. With each thrust I sound myself being pushed deeper into the mattress, I wrapped my small hand around the forearm that gripped my throat. Large moans bubbled out of both of us as our pleasure pushed us closer to the edge of the cliff of climax we both wanted to dive off of.

All of sudden I heard the sound of Pansy’s fake drunken voice, “H-heyy, Drac– BLOODY HELL!” I expected Draco to stop his thrusts, instead he looked over his shoulder, laughing softly before pushing my legs farther apart, burying himself to the hilt into me. I tried to push him away, show a shred of respect to Pansy, but it was a failed attempt, Draco just pinched my clit hard.

“Get the hell out, Pansy!” He roared softly. The door slammed shut just as I felt myself begin to gush onto my lover’s cock.

“O-oh! That’s it, Draco! Fuck!” He thrusted harder until he reached his own climax, collapsing next to me and pressing my body flush against his own.

“You wanted everyone to know? Well, Pansy happens to be a loud mouth and I may have told her to meet me up here, love. Pathetic girl never saw it coming.” He whispered softly, nuzzling into my neck.

I let out a small giggle, “I love you.”

“As I love you, baby boy.”

My Fake Boyfriend Epilogue

Summary: After receiving a very rude letter of your ex on the mail saying that he is going to get married. You see yourself not knowing what to do, you can just let it go or accept the help of your hot neighbor and pretend he is your boyfriend.

Paring: Bucky x Reader

Words: 1645

Warnings:, A lot of fluffy.

@drinkfantasy thank you so much for being my beta. You are the best. And thank you @amrita31199 .

You look at yourself in the mirror, fixing your makeup. You can’t believe that this day is finally here, today is the day that you would become Mrs. Barnes. After a year of dating and a six-month engagement, this day is finally here.

“Don’t you look precious?”. Your grandmother remarks , turning around you smile at her , drying the tears on her face. “Please, don’t cry, if you start crying I will start crying too… again and this would be the third time today.” She smiles at you, you can see the pride in her eyes. “Are you nervous? Marriage is a big deal, I wanted to run away on my second marriage.” She says taking a sip of her glass of champagne.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life, I love Bucky and I trust him with my life.” You calmly respond and it is true, you don’t doubt Bucky’s love for you. Other things might scare you but never your love for Bucky.

Keep reading