i will vomit on you

My cousin is a professional hippo keeper and has advanced far enough in the field of professional hippo keeping that she’s head of..idk, hippos? all giant herbivores? at Disney and has been consulting with the Cincinnati zoo about Fiona.

And being her facebook friend has really introduced me to the subculture of hippo keepers, who apparently all know each other and also can recognize most zoo hippos on sight. 

And man, if you thought cat ladies were bad about the “my precious panther children just bit the shit out of my arm and then vomited on my rug”  shit then I need to tell you that it is NOTHING compared to how hippo people talk about hippos with each other.  For example, my cousin will post a cute video of Fiona and her mother and all her hippo friends will comment things like, “Aww, look at Bibi.  She’s beautiful. Remember that time she bit down while I was brushing her teeth and she broke every bone in my hand?” and all the other people are like,  “Aw, precious Nile princess! I remember riding with you in the ambulance!”

Or she’ll post a picture of baby Fiona gnawing gently on her caregiver’s leg and someone will respond with a picture of a massive bruise she got when a teenage hippo did that and everyone will be like, “hahaha, these nightmare murder beasts sure are wonderful.”

december 31st, 2015, 10:23 pm: i saw you for the first time. you were talking to a girl and i could tell that you were capturing her with every syllable that left your mouth. and i knew why: you were beautiful and bright, and i was drawn to you even then, like the planets are drawn to the sun.

december 31st, 2015, 11:58 pm: we met standing in line for the bathroom. you introduced yourself, and asked for my name, smiling when i gave it. “lovely,” you murmured, and repeated it a few more times, rolling the letters around in your mouth like a new food.

january 1st, 2016, 12:05 am: i could still feel you on me, your lips, minutes, hours, months later. the clock had struck midnight and you just grabbed me, didn’t ask if it was okay until it was over. you were laughing, brushing it off, all teeth and well-kissed lips, but i knew i saw you blushing. 

january 21st, 2016, 1:12 pm: you got my number through the mutual friend that threw the party. i still don’t know how you got my address. i didn’t remember telling you. you couldn’t tell me, either.

february 14th, 2016, 9:12 pm: you took me out to dinner and bought me chocolate and roses. it was all so cliche, and i loved every second of it. when you kissed me good night, i swore i could feel the rest of my life, pressed right up against my lips.

february 26th, 2016, 11:33 pm: we made it official. i remember how you asked me, how shy you got, like you didn’t know what the answer would be.

march 17th, 2016, 5:43 pm: we spent the day at the saint patrick’s day parade, and you filled yourself with beer and kissed me hard against the bar bathroom door. i drove you home and that was the first time you told me you loved me.

march 18th, 2016, 9:24 am: you called me and told me you loved me again. “i want to make sure that you know i still mean it when i’m sober,” you said.

march 24th, 2016, 1:09 pm: i met your parents at easter brunch. you had demanded i come with you, and i was glad i did. your mother was kind and beautiful, and your father was warm and handsome, just like i knew they’d be. after we’d eaten, your mother got me alone. “he’s never brought a girl home before,” she told me, “normally he isn’t very open about who he’s dating. but you, you’re different. don’t read into this, but i think he may really think you’re special.”

april 12th, 2016, 8:31 pm: you saw me naked for the first time, and you kissed every inch of my skin. i’d never felt that much love from anybody before that night, and i haven’t since. not even you could replicate those few hours.

may 5th, 2016, 4:57 pm: we fought for the first time. i ran into my ex at the grocery store and wanted to chat for a few minutes. you didn’t. when we got in the car, you told me that if i was still in love with somebody else i could just leave, and i told you that you should trust me and not be so insecure about our relationship. we screamed the whole way home and you slammed the car door when i dropped you off. i almost crashed three times on the drive home.

may 6th, 2016, 8:03 am: you came by with flowers and breakfast. “I’m sorry,” you told me, “you just mean so much to me, and the thought of you ever being anyone else’s makes me sick.” i smiled, “but you don’t have to worry about that now. i’m yours.”

june 16th, 2016, 10:51 pm: for my birthday you took me out to dinner and gave me a beautiful necklace with a silver chain and pearl pendant. we drank expensive wine and stumbled back to my place and fucked. i had never been fucked before, not like this. i woke up the next morning with bite marks on my neck and hickeys all the way down my stomach, but you were gone. “had to run,” you’d written on a post it note, “i love you.”

june 18th, 2016, 2: 41 pm: i hadn’t seen you since my birthday and you weren’t picking up when i’d call.

june 19th, 2016, 3:13 am: “ had to run,” the post it note had said. maybe you were running from me. i couldn’t tell if it was the 3 am darkness talking or the part of me that already knew.

july 1st, 2016, 4:01 am: i looked over at you, sleeping in the darkness beside me. when we were together, things felt perfectly normal. but now, i could feel the shifts. “are we falling apart?” i whispered to you, and although i hadn’t expected an answer, the silence broke my heart all the same.

july 4th, 2016, 6:47 pm: we were at a barbecue and i saw you across the crowd, talking to a girl. i saw the way she was drinking up every word that escaped from between your lips, and that’s when i knew. that’s when i knew you weren’t mine anymore.
july 21st, 2016, 7:08 pm: i brought it up to you. “i think we’re starting to grow apart,” i said, “there’s a distance between us that wasn’t here before.” you reassured me that it was all in my head, but i didn’t hear it in your voice. i didn’t see it in your eyes. you knew it was there, too, but unlike me, you weren’t trying to do anything to stop it.

august 10th, 2016, 11:37 pm: i lay awake and thought about what your mother said, all these months later. “don’t read into this.” but of course i did. i couldn’t help myself. fuck, i loved you so much.
august 15th, 2016, 1:12 pm: you invited me over and i discovered that the key you’d given me no longer worked. “i had the locks changed,” you said, “i’ll get you a new one.” it was a lie, and i knew it. you didn’t get me a new key.

september 8th, 2016, 2:00 pm: i caught you cheating. in a desperate attempt to revive the romance we’d had at the beginning of our relationship, i bought dinner and brought it to your place. when you finally opened the door, i saw it written all over your face; the way your eyes widened, the way your jaw dropped, the way your cheeks drained of color. i heard it in the stammer of your voice, the sharp intake of your breath, the grinding of your teeth. when the girl walked up behind you, half naked, asking who it was at the door, i already knew. “how could you?” i whispered, and you just opened and closed your mouth. the girl pieced it together and started screaming. she hadn’t known. i left the food at the doorstep.

september 10th, 2016, 1:49 am: you never called after that, never came by, never reached out, but it wasn’t like we’d needed to confirm anything. i knew it was over, but it took every ounce of willpower i had not to go back to your place and find out why, why everything.

september 27th, 2016, 6:20 pm: i kept finding myself huddled in a ball; in my bedroom, in my kitchen, in my shower. not crying, or yelling. just huddled, clutching my body close to myself, staring. still not understanding.

october 31st 2016, 9:01 pm: i spent halloween haunted by the ghost of you. your face was around every corner. i could still feel your touch trickling down my spine. that night, i lost it. the anger surged through the sadness and bubbled to the surface. i screamed until my throat was raw, screamed at nothing, about nothing, for no reason other than i was too full.

november 10th, 2016, 2:17 am: you called me when you were drunk and i answered. i listened to you ramble, vomiting up apology after apology. near the end, you told me you loved me. “call me tomorrow when you’re sober if you still love me,” i said.  you didn’t. 

november 25th, 2016, 7:15 pm: i went out on a date with somebody new. they didn’t pull me in like you did, but for a few hours, i forgot about you and i felt okay. i drank myself to sleep that night so i wouldn’t have to think about you. the next morning, the hangover hurt more than you did. it was a start.

december 24th, 2016, 8:12 pm: i was spending christmas with my family, and i was doing great until my aunt asked about you. i told her you cheated, but i was doing okay, and then i excused myself and threw up the appetizers into the toilet. i called you then, and when you picked up, i let out a sob. “you ruined me, you fuck,” i croaked, “and you can’t even apologize. not when you’re sober, at least.” there were a few seconds of silence, and then you hung up. i still hope that it ruined your christmas.

december 31st, 2016, 10:23 pm: i saw you for the first time in months across the crowd. it made me sick to know that even after all that had happened, you were still the most beautiful person in the room to me.

december 31st, 2016, 11:55 pm: you found me in the kitchen. “i wanted to tell you i’m sorry,” you yelled over the music, “and i miss you.” and in those final moments of the year, i thought about it. i thought about letting you back in. the countdown started, and you moved closer to me. and i.. i pushed you away. i turned away from you and said, “no. i can’t.” and i walked out of the room.

january 1st, 2017, 12:05 am: i have forgotten how you felt against me, your lips. and for the first time, i am finally okay with that.

—  a year in review -c.h. // instagram: @evanescent.love (via @poeticaffinity)
[Major Spoilers] “Follow your true feelings!”: My Musings on P5′s Wildcard Couple

Can we talk about Morgana’s astute observations regarding Akechi’s true feelings for Akira? Can we talk about how (Morgana’s words–not mine) Akechi’s smile when he was hanging out with Akira had been genuine? This boy– who had distanced himself from everyone, who had wrapped himself up in layers upon layers of lies that he wears like a second skin, who had made revenge his one and only goal in life – had also, in spite of himself, serendipitously found kinship in the one boy whom he has decided that he has to kill. 

Keep reading

4

Dear Merlin, I am telling you now, because I’m afraid that it might be too late one day if I don’t: This was the most fun I’ve ever had. You’re next to me in my life. You’re the best person in the world, and I wouldn’t change a thing. Please remember me, even when I’m not there anymore one day to pick on you, and laugh at you, and call you names. You said I made you feel special. Well, you are special. And I would spend centuries with you if I could. I fear that the universe would rip in half if we went further apart than this, but I don’t think we have a choice. It’s not fair, but none of it ever was. Whatever the future holds, though, I don’t want you to change. I want you to always be you. Let’s make it the best life we can. Love, Arthur. 

Hey to all those people telling people “ it’s not so bad, just power through the cramps” when they're on their period because it’s not an excuse to miss school/work etc.!

I had bad cramps today, but I tried to “power through it” and went to class anyways, even though my grandmother had to drive me because I couldn’t walk to the bus.

I tried to “power through it” when I started to feel like I was going to throw up in the middle of my lecture, leaving to take a walk outside in the cold to try and clear my head, even though walking made my right side feel as though it was being ripped in two.

I tried to “power through it” when I started getting cold sweat all over my body, taking off my sweater and then putting it back on two seconds later because my body couldn’t decide if it was hot or cold.

 I tried to “power through it” when spots started to appear in my vision, and just kept walking towards the exit.

I tried to “power through it” when I started to dry heave, and started walking faster.

I tried to “power through it” when my ears started ringing and the spots took over my vision and I was so so hot but shivering and my side felt on fire and twisted into knots and stabbed all at once.

I tried to power through it to the point where I collapsed in the middle of my college hallway. A stranger brought me to Outreach Services, where I lay on the floor, vomiting, for an hour until somebody could pick me up and take me home.

The school paramedics told me that I had passed out because I put too much stress on my already taxed body. My body was taxed because of hormonal fluctuations and blood loss aka my period.

Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. In the past when I’ve had cramps like this, I’ve stayed in bed and eaten strawberries and watched MASH all day.

So don’t you DARE tell me that you should “power through the cramps and do it anyways”. Powering through made me pass out. Powering through made me have to be wheeled out of the school in a wheelchair because I couldn’t keep my balance to walk. Powering through made my grandmother with osteoporosis and a tendency to panic have to come pick me up from school and help me up the stairs and almost break her hip when I started to collapse backwards on the front steps. Powering through made my 13 year old brother have to supervise me while I took a bath because I was afraid I would pass out and drown (he was super sweet about it actually; we closed the curtain and he read me Voyage of the Dawn Treader). Powering through made my mother who works to support our family pretty much on her own have to take time off work to come home and make sure I was okay.

In conclusion; If someone feels crappy because of their period cramps, leave them alone. Don’t make them do things anyways, because you might make it worse. And definitely don’t make them feel bad for not wanting to do things because of cramps; that’s the reason I even got out of bed this morning. Be nice to people on their period. Possibly buy them chocolate or painkillers. Nut don’t make them do things when they have cramps, and definitely don’t tell them “it’s nothing, power through” because cramps? Cramps can be one of the worst things you could possibly imagine.

Seriously. Fuck you all.

headcanon: andrew hates bugs

+ like loathes them
+ specifically centipedes and spiders because “nothing should have that many legs”
+ every time he sees a bug in his home he flinches, backs away, and tells it to fuck off for good measure
+ and then continues to COMPLETELY ignore the spot of the house it’s in until he’s sure it’s bound to be gone
+ once he didn’t go near the toaster in the corner of the kitchen for eight straight days because there was a spider living there and he refused to ask neil to kill it
+ the only reason he ended up going back is because neil finally decided to check out what was wrong
+ found the spider and smashed it with a shoe
+ which he had to physically show to andrew
+ who kept insisting the spider had nothing to do with it
+ neil knows better than to ask about it
+ the same cannot be said for nicky, defender of all bugs who also squeals every time he sees them
+ one day he asks andrew about the thing with the bugs even though kevin and neil both shot him looks that clearly said “don’t ask”
+ of course nicky asks
+ andrew just ignores him at first and pointedly directs his attention to kevin to call him stupid for something
+ and nicky’s like, “they’re not doing anything wrong andrew they’re just bugs”
+ “first of all, they are unwelcome guests in my home, just like yourself”
+ “second, legs.”
+ nicky and kevin leave not too long after because now andrew is in an even more sour mood and neil isn’t even /trying/ to help
+ later neil asks andrew about it
+ because he’s curious and also he finds it kind of endearing
+ (because scary andrew is afraid of BUGS and that boy is nothing if not a collection of endless surprises neil aches to understand)
+ he expects andrew to brush off the topic or ignore him
+ he doesn’t
+ instead andrew has this expression that can be explained as nothing other than “disgruntled”
+ “the legs”
+ hes practically grinding his teeth when he says it, like it’s something personally offensive
+ “nothing can get away with having that many legs /and/ breaking and entering.”
+ “one is a personal attack on me and my person and my home. the other is a felony”
+ neil CANNOT stop smiling
+ he kills every bug in the house without question after that

3

#episode full of nightmares #not going in there 

4

This whole storyline that started this season about Cam and Arastoo adopting has seriously warmed my heart, but in all honesty, the one thing that gets me about the whole thing is that at the end of the day, Cam went to Brennan of all people to discuss about their adoption plans (you can tell from her ‘you ready to tell them?’ remark earlier that Brennan knew about Cam and Arastoo’s plans all along - and it brings back memories of all those years ago, when Cam first started working at the Jeffersonian and both Brennan and Cam clashed so much, and it was that one conversation in the diner about Brennan being a foster child which led them to working out a plan to function better as a team and colleagues, and all that has led up to this moment now. That she can now confide in Brennan, and Brennan in turn, was there to offer her the advice and support required, is what makes this entire scene even better for me. Because it shows just how far these two have come after all these years, from colleagues who couldn’t get along, to becoming dear friends. And in all honesty, that is all I could have ever asked for with these two. ❤️

Lance dropping casual observations about Keith is a pure and good thing.

They’re on a new planet and Lance is trying out the food at a local festival. He’s thankful for the green goop and Hunk has done wonders in experimenting with the flavor, but sometimes a guy needs a little more variety. Or at least something that tastes like coconut. He grabs some sort of kabob looking thing and takes a small bite. As soon as the flavor hits him, he’s bounding across the room waving the dish excitedly in Keith’s face shouting, “Dude you HAVE to try this, you’re gonna love it.”

It’s hot pink with green stripes an….fuzzy? Keith raises an eyebrow at the striped mammalian horror for a moment, then narrows his eyes at Lance. “It’s not going to turn me green or make me throw up is it?”

Lance rolls his eyes. “That was one time, get over it already. Nothing weird is going to happen, I just know you have a sweet tooth so I think you’ll like it.”

Keith is blindsided by the statement. How does Lance even know that? What the quiznak? He doesn’t realize he’s silently staring at Lance until the blue paladin is waving the food in his face once again. “Are you gonna try it or what?”

Keith brushes the surprise off; he’ll think about it later. “Um… yeah, sure. Stop trying to stab me in the face with it, jeez.”

Keith ends up eating 11 of the seussian skewers before they go back to the castle for the night.



“What are you nervous about?”

Keith’s posture stiffens. He didn’t even hear Lance enter the common room. “What makes you think I’m nervous?”

Lance climbs over the back of the couch to seat himself on it - because he can’t just be normal and walk around to sit like a normal person - before answering. “You’re staring off into space, ha, and messing with the Velcro on your gloves. You only do that when you’re nervous about something.”

“How do you even know that?!” The question tumbles out of Keith’s mouth without explicit permission.

Lance pulls his legs up to cross them and raises an eyebrow. “I pay attention, obviously.” He looks away before adding “So….what’s wrong.”

They talk for a while. It’s not a magic cure, but Keith doesn’t feel like the universe is completely falling apart afterwards. It’s…nice.

Pidge finds the t-shirt on one of their trips to the space mall. It says something along the lines of “Edge Lord” on it in an alien tongue and Pidge thought it was the most hilarious thing they had ever seen an immediately bought it. Keith wrinkles his nose at it, but leaves the room to pull it on anyways. He’s never really had a family, but Pidge is so much like a younger sibling and they looked so proud of the gift. He doesn’t want to let them down. So, he slips it on and marches back into the training deck, determined to not be embarrassed. Which meant that Lance had made his way into the room just before Keith returned, of course.

Lance actually does a double take before he’s consumed with laughter. Keith pouts. When the full body howling finally dies down to more of a giggle, Lance looks over at Pidge. “Is THAT the shirt you bought him?”

They grin, “Yup.”

“God bless you Pidge. I can’t believe you got him to wear it though, Keith hates the color orange.” There’s no time for Keith to wonder how it is that Lance became privy to that information because Lance gives him another look over and grins. “With good reason too. It’s definitely not your color dude.”

Keith immediately pulls the boot off of his left foot and chucks it at Lance’s head. He doesn’t actually throw it hard, but he also doesn’t miss. 

Hunk finds a shop that sells space candy on another trip to the space mall a few weeks after the t-shit incident. They look and taste like jelly beans and even come in a myriad of assorted colors. Everyone on the ship is basically obsessed with them. No one brings it up, but the space jellies, as lance loving calls them, remind everyone on the team of home. It’s bittersweet and Coran makes sure the kitchen is well stocked with them. 

It’s the middle of the night and Keith can’t sleep, so he drags himself to the kitchen for a midnight snack. Lo and behold, he notices a certain Cuban boy sitting on the counter tossing space jellies in the air and trying to catch them with his mouth. Lance’s antics are ridiculous, but they’re also kind of…. endearing? Keith shakes the thought from his head and rolls his eyes for good measure before making his way to the pantry. 

If it had been anyone else, there would have been at least three boxes left and a cold juice sitting there waiting for the taking. BUT it’s Keith, so that means the last box of space jellies is currently being consumed by Lance who rattles a half finished box and says, “Looking for these?”

When Keith turns to face him, Lance is grinning from ear to ear. It’s definitely not cute. “You took the last one.”

Lance’s smile doesn’t falter at Keith’s grumpy tone. “Sure did.”

Keith huffs and turns back to the pantry, resigns himself to grabbing a bag of little pea shaped things that taste like banana at first, but leave a burnt toast aftertaste. Pidge is obsessed with them, Keith doesn’t really get it but he needs something to snack on so he sits a the table and tears opens the bag.

A few minutes go by and the silence is only broken up by Lace humming a few bars of some song Keith has never heard before. He likes it though and he’ s almost tempted to ask Lance to hum it a little louder. But that’s weird. So he just stares at his pea things and occasionally places one in his mouth.

A box is suddenly placed in front of Keith as Lance slides onto the seat directly across from him smiling. “You like the black ones, right?” He says it with an air of confidence that only Lance possesses but there’s some sort of undertone to it that Keith can’t quite identify. Fondness maybe?

Keith shifts his gaze from the boy in front of him back down to the box of space jellies. There are quite a few of Keith’s preferred jellies in there and it almost seems like Lance had planned on saving all of them for Keith before he even came into the kitchen. Keith pushes the thought away and looks back up at Lance to mutter a thank you. When Lance smiles this time it’s blinding and genuine. Keith has to avert his gaze yet again, because when Lance gives him that specific brand of smile… his heart starts to do weird things.

The humming starts again and when Keith is done with his jellies they clean up and Lance walks him to his room. The “Goodnight” Lace utters before heading to his room is accompanied with a small wave and a soft smile. Keith falls back to sleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. 

They’re sitting side by side on the floor of the bridge staring upwards at the holographic image of Earth’s sun and all of the stars surrounding it. It doesn’t happen every night, not that there’s really a night or a day in space, either way they should both be asleep at these time none the less, but it’s not uncommon for one of them to find the other sitting by a window looking out at the endless space that surrounds them at all times now.

Sometimes they just sit together in comfortable silence. Sometimes they make up stupid constellations to make one another laugh. Occasionally they’ll both lay down next to each other as they look out a window at an unfamiliar planet and talk about all kinds of things in muted tones. 

Tonight though, there was something about the look in Lance’s eyes that made Keith take him by the wrist and lead him to the bridge to look at the familiar stars they’d both grown up staring at. 

Keith smiles as he points to another cluster and says, “That’s Lyra.”

Lace looks up. “It’s small.”

“Yep.” The red paladin nods. “It’s the 52nd constellation in order from largest to smallest, but Vega is part of the constellation and that’s the fifth brightest star in Earth’ s night sky.”

Lance pulls his legs to his chest and rests his chin on his knees. “Isn’t there a myth behind it about a musician or something?”

“Yeah, Orpheus. The story is pretty sad actually.”

Lance spares Keith a glance paired with a smirk before looking back at the hologram. A half smile shouldn’t twist Keith’s stomach like that, but it does. “Greek mythology usually is Keith.” There’s a brief pause before Lance turns back to Keith again and asks “Will you tell me the story?” 

This time Lance doesn’t look away. His gaze is fixed on Keith and the expression he’s making and the tone of voice he’s using isn’t quite as unfamiliar to Keith anymore as it was four months back. In fact, he gives Keith that look every night they sit together under the stars, and sometimes throughout the day when he thinks no one is looking, or when he catches Keith laughing at one of his jokes. Lance looks at Keith like precious, like he’s the most beautiful thing in the universe and it never fails to make Keith’s mouth go dry or increase his heartrate.

“You don’t want to hear me ramble about some random Greek tragedy.” He can’t look away from those eyes. Who awarded Lance the right to have such perfect blue eyes? They’re the pools of water you land in when you’ve followed the river down the waterfall and Keith has never been a strong swimmer. It’s not fair.

“I do.” Lance sounds so sincere. Why does he have to sound like that? Why is his voice so soft and fond? Two syllables came out of that mouth. Simple words, three letters, one space between the first and the last two when written down, and they still manage to knock the breath from Keith’ s lungs. 

When it’s just him and Keith, Lance is different. The obnoxious jokes, and the issuing of lame little competitions between the two of them, and the occasional bickering are all still there even when they’re alone. Keith just feels like there’s something…extra. Like bonus content you only get when you’ve purchased the collector’s edition of a game or something. Lance’s edges get softer and he’s more honest about what he’s feeling when no one else is in the room. He’s  a little more sincere, more prone to being serious, and it’s stunning.

“Please? I like to hear your voice.” Keith still can’t manage to tear his eyes away from the boy sitting next to him, and he knows. He knows that he’s beat red. It’s so, so embarrassing, but he still takes a deep breath when his lungs figure out how they’re supposed to work again and he starts telling the story. 

“So, you were right. Orpheus was a musician, but not like any run of the mill musician, he was the best harpist in all of Greece, even the gods acknowledged his talents.” Lance whistles and Keith tries very hard to not be distracted by the way his lips pucker to make the sound. “Umm…. So, on his wedding day his wife, Eurydice, got separated from the wedding party and got bit on the heel by a snake while she was running away from a Satyr with… less that pure intentions and died.”

“That’s awful.” It’ s almost a whisper.

“Yeah, it really is.” Keith pauses for a moment to silently mourn a fictional nymph. Which, okay yeah it’s probably dumb, but whatever. If Keith had learned anything in the last six months of constant warfare, it’s that patience yields focus and you should always respect the dead. He continues, “Anyways, Orpheus was so heartbroken that he decided to take a journey to the underworld to strike a bargain with Hades to get her back. So when he got there he just started playing this song, and it was so beautiful that even the stones around them start crying and it moved both Hades and his wife Persephone’s hearts or whatever, so Hades cut him a deal.”

“He told Orpheus that if he started walking to the gates of Hell Eurydice would follow behind him and be returned to the world of the living, but only if he didn’t look back at her until they were both out of Hades’ domain. So he walked and walked and had to keep reminding himself that no matter how much his heart told him to, he couldn’t look back. So, when he reached the upperworld he finally looked back, except he forgot to account for the fact that Eurydice could be farther than a foot behind him. She hadn’t reached the entry yet, so she was dragged back down to stay in the world of the dead.”

Lance makes a small sound, whining sound. It’s the same sound Lance always makes when he hears something sad or sees wounds on a comrade after a battle. Keith reaches a hand out to push Lance’s bangs back partly because he knows it’s the easiest way to sooth the blue paladin, and partly because it was an excuse to touch him.

He pulls his hand back, not without reluctance but he still has the rest of the story to tell and being mesmerized by Lance melting under his fingertips would be a little too distracting for Keith to remember how words work. “After that he only ever played sad music. There are a few different versions of how the myth ends, but the one that’s told most often is that in his grief he didn’t pay tribute to the god of wine and he was torn limb from limb as punishment. The muses carried his harp into the sky to form Lyra and immortalize Orphus’s tragedy in the night sky.”

All at once there’s a weight on Keith’s side that was not previously there. Lance had closed the small space between them so that he could rest his head against Keith’s should and lean into him. 

Lance makes an amused sound. “Of course your favorite constellation in the sky would be the one with the with the most depressing love story behind it.”

Keith furrows his brow. He’s been pointing out different constellations all night and he just doesn’t get how Lance picked out his favorite one so easily. His heart does something weird again. It’s painful and also…  pleasant? warm? nice? 

Keith does it too, though. Off of the top of his head he could tell you that Lance hates everything remotely flavored like cooked carrots, but will eat anything that tastes like raw ones. He could write poems about how Lance always worries his bottom lip with his teeth when he’s not quite sure what to say. He could almost list all of the names of the people in Lance’s absurdly large family in alphabetical order and tell you at least two facts about each one of them. Keith could tell you all about how Lance mumbles under his breath in Spanish when he’s scared or exhausted. It wouldn’t sound as pretty, but he could hum you all of the songs Lance sings when he’s happy.

Keith know without a shadow of a doubt why he remembers every tiny detail that Lance has ever revealed to him. There wasn’t a specific moment he realized he was in love with Lance, it had been happening slowly for a long time now. And, yeah, Keith thinks he has an idea as to  why Lance knows so many small truths about him too. He’s just… never asked for confirmation. So he plays with the velcro on his gloves for split second before deciding to take them off completely and setting them aside. He burns a hole in the projected image of Earth’s sun and bites the bullet.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

Lance lifts his head from Keith’s should and settles his chin in it’s place so that he gets a better view of Keith’s profile. “Doing what?”

Keith musters up the courage to turn his face and look directly into Lance’s eyes. Their noses are almost touching now. “Noticing all of these… I don’t know, these like, obscure little things about me that no one else notices. Like knowing I like black space jellies when I’ve never actually vocalized anything about that, or remember when Hunk tried to shove that plant in my face so I could smell it and you swatted it out of his hands because it looked like a tulip and you remembered I was allergic to them. Or knowing that my favorite color is blue and that my least favorite is burnt orange.”

“To be fair burnt orange is an awful color in general.”

“Okay, yeah, but you always know when I’m upset, or nervous, or happy because of some weird hand gesture that I usually don’t even know I’m doing until you point it out. Why do you know all of those things Lance? Why do you remember them?”

One of Lance’s eyebrows quirks up and he teases, “Do you really want to know?”

Keith let’s out an exasperated breath. “Well, I asked didn’t I? So yeah Lance, I want to know.”

The smirk falls off of Lace’s face and he shifts himself to sit on his feet so that his body is facing Keith’s. Lace keeps his eyes trained on the floor, looking like he’s waging some sort of internal battle, and when he finally looks back up at Keith there’s determination burning in his expression and maybe a little fear. 

Lance opens his mouth to speak…and then he closes it. He does this four times before bringing his folded hands up from his lap to cover his face. Lance complains into his hands in hushed Spanish. 

When he peaks out from between his fingers and then drops them uselessly back in his lap, his cheeks and ears are an adorable shade of red and he smiles at Keith sheepishly. “You know, for someone who talks so much, I’m really not all that great with words when it comes to stuff like this.” 

The words are accompanied by a self deprecating laugh. Keith frowns and tries to make his voice sound encouraging when he says “Take your time.”

Lance smiles, but there’s a bitter edge to it. “That’s the thing though, all I’ve been doing is taking my time. I’m kind of sick of it honestly. I keep trying to find the exact right words to say to you and I practice in my head and then as soon as I consider opening my mouth to say it, I just forget how to talk or I say something dumb. And it’s just so ridiculous, you know? Because it doesn’t have to be some drawn out dramatic speech like I keep telling myself. It’s actually just so stupidly simple and I don’t get why I’m so scared to mess it up. But really, how hard is it to say “because” and follow it up with three words? I look at you an I just…” Lance stares at him. “I just…” Lance lifts his hands and places them on either side of Keith’s face. 

Keith’s heart is trying to make its great escape by bludgeoning it’s way out of his chest. He’s pretty sure his entire rib cage is turning to dust and his body is down a set of lungs. They’ve just ceased existing. What are lungs? No clue, never heard of them.

“Keith.” Lance’s voice cracks just a little when he says the name and he swallows and starts again. “Keith. Keith Kogane. My buddy, my pal. I know that you have a sweet tooth, and that you love a good hug but don’t know how to ask for one when you need it. I know that you’re smart, and talented, and think butterscotch candies are the sole creation of the devil himself.”

Keith can’t help the laughter that escapes him and it makes Lance smile the way he always does when Keith so much as chuckles.

“I know that you have the best laugh I’ve ever heard. You have no idea how much I love that laugh. Seriously. I know you collect snow globes, and love conspiracy theories-”

“They’re not all just theories Lance, there’s a lot of evidence out -”

“Shhhhhh, you asked me a question and I’m trying to answer it and I’m kind of on a roll after mumbling for five minutes about how this wasn’t going to be some drawn out thing. But I’m just focusing on you instead of some practiced speech and I’m actually forming mildly coherent sentences, so be quiet. I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.”

“I know a bunch of tiny little facts about you, and yeah sure part of that is because I’m super observant and totally cool,” he winks, “but I notice all of those things specially about you because…” Lance swallows hard and takes a calming breath. “I lo-”

Keith has been told many times that he gives into impulses too quickly, that he’s too impatient. And…yeah, it’s true, absolutely, and he’s working on it. No, really, he is! Try as he might though, he couldn’t handle another second of wanting to kiss Lance and not doing it when the opportunity clearly presented itself. 

It’s not the smoothest first kiss, but it’s not all teeth and bumping noses either, and it leads into soft drawn out kisses, and kisses that can barely even be called that because the two of them are grinning so wide. 

When Keith pulls away a faux pouty expression take over Lance’s face. “You didn’t even let me finish.” He starts to waggle his eyebrows in the most obnoxious way possible and says “These lips were just irresistible huh? I guess I’m just too smoochable.”

How the hell does Keith find this so cute? 

“Hey, Keith?” 

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Fan Bing Bing absolutely killing it and looking like an immaculate goddess at the Met Gala, meanwhile nearly everyone else entirely missed the theme memo.

anonymous asked:

Can you improve my outlook on life and write a very drunk draco clinging to Harry please?

(LOL, I love the way you phrased that and also, I love drunk Draco.)

Potter sat there, leaning back in the booth with his arm slung across the back of the faux-leather seat, his shoulders shaking as he threw his head back and laughed at something the Weasel said. Granger shook her head with a smile of fond exasperation and leaned up to kiss her husband’s cheek. The weird blonde (”Loony Lovegood,” his booze-soaked brain provided) was waving her wand over the she-Weasel’s head in circles - ‘cause that’s normal behaviour for her.

Draco supposed that the thought of going over there ought to feel intimidating - he was completely outnumbered. But perhaps it was because of the eight or so shots of tequila Pansy had dared him into guzzling, or because he was randy as fuck.

Or because he’d just stood there hiding behind the cloak stand by the door and gazing at Potter like a lovesick halfwit far too long - he was no coward. Not anymore.

So he squared his shoulders and marched across the bar, tripping only twice, the second time because of that swaying oaf who’d nearly knocked him over.

Potter blinked up at him with his mouth slightly open.

“Potter.” Draco felt vaguely triumphant that his voice came out steady and calm - and Potter’s form was only very slightly blurry. “Potter,” he repeated, blinking slowly.

“Malfoy,” Potter replied cautiously, one eyebrow sliding up the scarred forehead. “What’re you doing here?”

“I can be here if I want to be here ‘cause I want to be here–” Draco was being very loud - his ears rang a little. Potter scrambled out of his seat, throwing a hasty glance at his friends before coming up to Draco and grabbing his elbow hard. Draco scowled around at the group - Weasley was scowling back, Granger looked thoughtful, she-Weasley looked completely bewildered and Loony, well Loony hadn’t noticed him yet; she was peering into she-Weasley’s ear as though she’d lost something in there.

Potter dragged him away a few paces. “What the hell?”

Draco tried to yank his arm out of his grip but nearly ended up overbalancing and falling onto his arse instead - Potter’s grip tightened.

“Let me go!” Draco slurred, stepping closer to Potter.

“What’re you doing here?” Potter repeated softly.

“I like you,” Draco proclaimed boldly. “I’ve always liked you. You never noticed. You have terrible eyesight.”

Potter pursed his lips, a faint line appearing between his thick brows. “I know I do,” he said, indicating to his smudged glasses.

“I like you,” Draco said once more, his voice decidedly breathy now - ugh. He stepped closer and, oh Merlin, rubbed their noses together. “So much,” he sighed, pressing their cheeks together for a swift second.

“Oh?” Potter didn’t seem put out at all. After staring steadily at him with his stupid green eyes twinkling merrily, Potter asked, “What d’you want, Draco?”

“To go home with you.” Oh shit, he was going to kill Pansy.

Potter simply continued to twinkle at him. “Well, I’m not going to say no to that,” he said very seriously, finally releasing Draco’s elbow to slide both his arms around Draco’s waist and tug him closer.

Draco gasped as he was pressed flush against Potter. He could caught a whiff of spicy aftershave, Firewhiskey and mint; he pushed both hands into the mess on Potter’s head and leaned forward to whisper, “I want you to fuck me.” He pressed his face into the crook of Potter’s neck.

Potter’s arms tightened, the world closed in around him until he was being squeezed almost to the point of pain, and then he was being pulled through dense blackness.


Everything ached. His stomach ached, his back ached, his toenails ached - his eyelashes ached. His head felt like it had exploded and had been put back together before exploding again; even his hair hurt.

He was too close to the sun, his retinas were on fire. The sheets below him were softer than a cloud and smelt pleasantly flowery - his stomach twisted.

He kicked himself out of bed, fell over onto his hands and knees and then half-crawled, half-ran to the bathroom until he was heaving into the toilet. It was another ten minutes before he was able to make himself stand, piss, gargle with half a bottle of mouthwash and wash his face - which also hurt.

Clad only in his boxers he stumbled through the house, following the horrible sound quality of the Wireless and the utterly heavenly scent of fresh coffee.

“Coffee!” he croaked, throwing himself into a chair so heavily that he slipped off the polished wood and landed on his bum. Potter turned around, a spatula with a bright red handle in one hand, took one look at him and nearly fell down laughing.

“Good morning!” he virtually screamed. Draco rested his cheek on the chair and groaned hoarsely, feebly pressing his hands to his ears.

“Coffee,” he whimpered. “What happened to my head? Coffee,” he pleaded once more.

Grinning widely, Potter poured him a large mugful. Shaking his head slightly as he walked over to the table, he set the steaming mug on the table, reached down and nearly lifted Draco off his feet as he helped him onto the chair he’d aimed for. “Let me guess - tequila?”

“I hate Pansy.” Draco wrapped both hands around his jade green mug with the gold polka dots and drew the drink of the Gods closer to him. “I hate tequila. I hate drinking. I hate bars. I hate going out.”

“But you like me.” Potter’s completely deadpan expression made Draco scowl - aarrgh, his face hurt dammit.

“What?” He took a huge gulp and moaned a long, gurgling moan as the gorgeous bitterness spread over his tongue.

“You like me,” Potter said again, leaning a hip against the counter with his arms crossed - he looked on the verge of another bout of laughter.

Draco stared blearily at him for several seconds before fuzzy memories started leaking into his aching brain. Then he let his head thump onto the table with another groan as Potter burst out laughing again.

“I hate everything!” Draco stated miserably. “Stop laughing at me!” His head throbbed when he raised his voice so he promptly shut up.

Potter, still laughing by the way, was loading up a plate with eggs, sausages and strips of bacon fried to crisp perfection - Draco’s stomach rolled and he clamped his mouth shut firmly as the food was set down before him.

Then Draco’s husband cupped his face with both hands, turned his face up and kissed him firmly. “I like you too,” Potter informed Draco.

“I will vomit on you,” Draco threatened.

Potter grinned, kissed his nose and went to get himself a plate of breakfast.


(Any good? ❤️)

Little Things

MASTERLIST

A/N: This is my very bad attempt at something cute, but you know… Fluff isn’t my best. Also a bit different from what I’ve done in the past, so feedback would be great. I messed up the months, I’m aware. 

Word count: 3,365

Pickering, Canada
April 2024

Keep reading

Best Friends (Part 3)

Summary: Meeting in college, you and Bucky strike up a friendship. And that is all there is, until Bucky realizes he’s in love with you. But it might just be a little too late for that.

Word Count: 818

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: Enjoy this part, guys :) Positive feedback is loved and appreciated, please!

Originally posted by thespoilerwitchblog


Sure enough, the party that Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff threw for the end of the year was anything short of crazy. Endless booze and an empty mansion, Nat had taken advantage of the fact that her very-rich parents were out of town on a business trip to throw the biggest rave of the year.

Everyone was there and you were soon being handed a red cup full of beer by a tipsy Pietro. He grinned, draping an arm around your shoulders and leading you into the vast house. The music was booming through the speakers and there were various people dancing, others were playing beer pong, and a few couples were scattered in various corners, making out as if they were in private rooms. You grimaced at this before Pietro commanded your attention and led you out to the dance floor.

Keep reading

gOD i hate splitting like am i madly in love with you?? do i hate your guts?? do i want to talk to you 24/7?? do i want to vomit when you text me?? do i think you’re perfect and admire everything you are?? do i look at your mistakes and think you’re equivalent to satan?? the answer to all of these questions is “yes” and i don’t know what the fuck is going on

natasha, pierre, and i had a fucking heart attack

i’m writing up my ‘natasha pierre and great comet of 1812′ thoughts mostly for @je-suis-em-jee‘s benefit, but the rest of you sorry fucks get to come along if you like. eyy!

loads of fucking spoilers. maybe don’t click if you want to go see it—the surprises were so much fun.

Keep reading