idk i'm halfway through

Drawing in the Common Room

Summary: You’re trying to draw but Sirius really wants a kiss.

Word Count: 1,091

Pairing: Sirius x Reader

Requested by My Writer’s Block (ugh)


Sirius’s right hand rests on your hip, fingertips lightly digging into your skin as you hold the sketchbook in front of you. The two of you take up an entire couch in the Gryffindor common room, earning you the glare of more than one other student over the afternoon. Sirius’s cocked eyebrow and innate charm sent them all scurrying away.

Or maybe it was his implied threat of blackmailing them. You don’t really care. They’re gone, leaving the two of you alone in the common room. That’s all that matters.

The open window lets a lazy breeze in, one that leaves light goosebumps on your arms that Sirius chases away with a soft touch, running his hand up and down your arm.

“Have you almost finished?” He asks, letting his hand wander down the side of your thigh.

You bite your lip, squinting at the intricate swirls on the bookcase across the room. “Not yet, love. And quit moving your hand. It was fine where it was.”

“Come on,” He whines, but he moves his hand back onto your hip.

“Just a little bit more.” You say, words slow as you focus on the sketch.

Sirius sighs, head falling onto the pillow he’s clutching with his left hand.

Keep reading

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Lol posting more selfies cause the snapchat filters make me look good

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soft hair, soft smile

So.. I finished this?

I am so so in love with my trans werewolf son I just wanna protect him ah 💖

When Things Fell Apart: Part Eight (Final Part)

- Pre-warning you, it is super super long. But I have worked so hard on it to make sure it was as perfect as I had hoped and thank you for reading.(I have a little thank you message at the end too cause you guys are amazing individuals) - 

/ masterlist / one / two / three / four / five / six / seven 

Four Years.

The note remained in my fingertips even though I had memorised his words and meanings. It had been a long time since I bothered trying to talk to him, I told the empty line what needed to be said, I can remember it as if I uttered those words yesterday. 

A lot can happen in four years, people can change and grow or shrink into their own existence. 1095 days to be precise, this is how long it has taken me to figure out who I was and with the spare 365 days I gave myself well, let’s just say I kept myself busy- since half of it remains hazy when I try and think about it. 

Leaning back into the seat I re open the curtain, letting light into the aisle as I reminisce on the last time I was on a flight. I remember being drained, officially defeated by my status as a person and the guilt that had ridden my form, guilt from lying to Ashton, to Luke but also to myself. Closing my eyes I hear the cries that echoed down an empty line, the cries developing into muffled sobs as I tried to calm myself down only muttering apologies to him rather than coherent words. 

In the distance the clouds clear revealing the reality of the dream world, masses of land covered in green, light rays shine through the clouds illuminating the ocean and the tiny ant sized people below. Could he be one of them? This remained an apparent thought that circled my mind even though I was hours away.  Sending my parents a quick message, letting them know roughly how long it would be until I’d land and return to the life they hope I’d lead- something relatively normal. 

To me he was no longer dead, he was a ghost that haunted every decision I made. His voice spoke the fearful thoughts when I went to a bar or spoke to some guy or went on a date, he was haunting my every move and I couldn’t bare it, so I drowned it out. Unfortunately I can’t do that now, I can’t keep repeating the same actions as it’ll only end with more pain than it began with. When he first apologised there was a searing through my chest that spread rapidly through me. Pounding in my temples began and I felt sick to my stomach yet I was paralysed in a state of disbelief yet now, now everything is numb, and this my own undoing. 

Focusing on the piano that played into my ears I cast those memories away for a good reason as a new voice entered my ears and I couldn’t help but overhear. “Yeah I just want to tell him I’m sorry, like I didn’t mean it I was just caught up in the moment of it all.” She was trying to be quiet from in front of me but through the slither of the chairs I could just make out the brown hair that was perfectly curled for a 12 hour flight. 

Blinking I averted my eyes and ears from her conversation, I didn’t want to know the context nor did I care. Sighing I rested my head in my hand, focusing on the clouds clearing and a smile forming on my face. Everything was coated in white, gaps were made but everything else was in a complete blanket of snow; just in time for Christmas. Unaware of how much time had passed as a new day dawned I began to get myself together seeing the lights flicker for seat belts to be re fastened. 

Having made it off of the plane and through the boardwalk I couldn’t help but feel apprehensive. This was it now, this would be when I press play on my life again. I can’t pause anymore or rewind, I’m stuck in this moment and there’s no turning back. Releasing a shaky breath I grip onto my luggage even tighter than before and head into the arrivals area, my eyes scan the scenes of loved ones being reunited. Seeing them hugging tightly or having flowers or kissing non stop, tearing my eyes away I try not to think how much I miss it or crave that now. 

The sound of my name being called with such joy caused my ears to perk, tilting my head up I see my parents waving and without a second to spare I run over to them. Embracing them both in a tight hug it’s as if I’m 12 again, coming home from an awful school trip that lasted four days and I had never missed them more, that was until now. Their hug meant security, complete protection and undoubtful sense of love. 

Pulling away I wipe my face and let out a shaky laugh, now unable to hide my smile to see them in person. Not on a screen, not over the phone when I had time to spare but at home. 

We began to walk out and I could sense my Dad watching me, he was doing the Dad thing of observing my current state, physically and mentally. They don’t know what happened in the past year, it is something I am suppressing from my own memories and refuse to relive it again, never again. Yet, I got better. I’m fresh, a flower that has blossomed for the first time and found a new way to live without the past. 

“A fresh start eh love?” My Dad nudged me as we neared the car and I nodded in response. Taking my rucksack and suitcase I forced them into the small boot of the car, feeling the snow dust on my shoulders and the ground around us now grey mush as opposed to fresh frost. 

As my Dad drove us home my Mum rambled on about everything I’ve missed, things she had told me three times before over the phone yet I was too preoccupied with the sights we passed. All of the trees that lined the small forests delicately draped in snowflakes, some had broken branches weighed down with thick layers of the stuff. I saw all of the houses that I cycled by as a child, most the same as ever before with faded paint or chipped bricks lining the walls. Others had makeovers with fresh colours and lavish decorations in their gardens, now barely visible due to the snow. 

Feeling the car come to a halt I lift my head up and see my parents both smiling to me with that light glimpsing in their eyes. Just past their heads I focused through the raindrops that blurred the window ahead, lights could vaguely be seen but as they moved aside I leant forward and smiled brightly. “Home.” A heartfelt word that I hadn’t thought about in so long, my home had been various hotels for too long. Maybe this is what I needed after all. 

Stepping out of the car I felt the crunch of snow beneath my feet and struggled to contain my excitement. Observing the outside of our house things hadn’t changed, everything seemed as if I never left excluding the fairy lights draped around the roof and gutter pipes for Christmas. 

Linking arms with my Mum she gave my arm a light squeeze as we walked back inside. The soft scent of Lavender floated through the air as I stood in amazement to see slight alterations made to the decor that made me feel slightly uncomfortable. White replaced the once burgundy walls, probably since I wasn’t here to risk ruining white, laminate flooring instead of carpets and the photographs and achievements rearranged along with new artwork. 

Taking slow steps forward I glanced around at the photos displayed seeing holidays, birthdays and christmases yet something seemed to be hidden behind an elephant sculpture. Reaching up to see it my Dad called me over preventing me from seeing what it was. Walking into the living room it remained the same as ever which was comforting, sitting down on the sofa I could see the Christmas tree up and presents settled beneath it. “So, three days until Christmas.” He started and soon smoothed his hands over the jeans that covered his thighs, a nervous tendency I picked up. “Any plans?” A brief look was exchanged with my Mum then their eyes focused back on me. 

Shifting in my seat I just shook my head, “I just want to get back into things,” Smiling to them both I could see my Mum releasing her breath. “just to settle back into this.” I told them then excused myself to go back to my room and sort my things out. 

It felt as if I truly was 12 again, my Mum told me what was for dinner and to have my washing in a basket ready for her. The climb up the stairs felt brief as I placed my luggage outside of my room, hovering my hand above the handle. Gripping onto the silver handle I pushed my door open, it was as if it had been untouched. Nothing had been changed, sure, it had been cleaned up but I still had the art on my wall, the array of books piling up and my notepad left open with some notes from my last visit here. 

Yet I felt uncomfortable, trapped. In here the memories lingered, I hoped for change in this room to make new memories rather than reach out and grasp onto the old ones. I didn’t want to sit on my bed, I didn’t want to think about how he kissed me or how we slept together here. The art work he picked for me knowing I admired it for months perfectly framed on the wall was a reminder. You’re better than this, you’re starting again. Running my fingers through my hair I began to remove certain things and place them outside of my door- books, albums, wall art, prints, clothes; anything that left an uncomfortable memory of him in my mind. 

Soon I sat in the centre of my room seeing it now bare in patches. I’m ready for new memories, I’m done living in the past. 


Christmas Eve, my phone remained closer to me now yet I avoided social media but the ones I had were strictly private. My Instagram was merely to update my parents on my travels and I had to apologise to a particular person, despite the guilt that I kept hidden a fresh start meant tying up loose ends. These included the ones I had with Ashton. 

Sitting up in my bed I take a peek outside of my blinds, the sun is only just rising and sleep still remains a difficulty since being back. The amount of snow left is decreasing and snowmen are now melting or have been destroyed resulting into nothing less than grey sludge that people slip over. Picking up my phone I take my earphones out and begin to text but pause halfway through the message. 

Sighing I take a sip of water and delete the entire message. Instead of typing I place my phone to my ear, hoping he would pick up. Doubt circled my mind as the rings went on, I wouldn’t blame him for not answering, I know I wouldn’t or if I did it would be with high hopes for an explanation. 

“If it isn’t the nightingale returning to the nest.” His accent was thick with sarcasm as opposed to the sweet tone he usually took with me, ignoring the stabbing in my stomach I sighed. 

“Yes, there is a lot of explaining to do-”

“Then you better get started.” He was short, I could hear shuffling in the background and voices becoming more faint as the seconds passed by. 

Removing my duvet from my body I swung my legs over my bed and stretched out before standing in the centre of my room. “Obviously, I lied to you.” A scoff could be heard in response but I wouldn’t give in to his responses, not now. “And a lot happened whilst I was gone to me. Some of it good, some of it not so good.” Shaking my head I blinked rapidly, wanting to get rid of the pictures and voices I could hear replaying like a song stuck on a loop. 

“You aren’t the only one.” A light laugh followed his response that made me feel at ease which was shortly lived. “Luke is a mess.” My heart felt heavy but I couldn’t allow it, not anymore.

Sighing I sat down on my floor and glimpsed to the gap on my wall, reminding me of my old apartment in its entirety. “That’s not why I phoned.” Stopping him from continuing he questioned my reasoning, “I can’t keep doing this. Trying to move on and then being dragged back into Lukes problems.” I began to get frustrated with myself more than him. “Luke is not in my life and I’m not in his Ashton.” Stating the obvious to him I stood up and held my arm around my waist as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My expression was cold and hard, “It’s time to move on. I’m sorry for what I did to you. Goodbye.” With that I hung up. 

No tears, no drama. I’m sick of being drawn back in and refused to allow it anymore. 

My day went on as expected, I wrapped up warm and began to sort my room out and all of my belongings from my old apartment. I kept the things I wanted, the rest was binned as he the items he left were worthless, meaningless to me. Home was just somewhere I needed to be for a little while, things seemed to be more clear in the company of the wise. 

The day had soon become dark and the sea of lights I was so used to seeing had dramatically changed to the occasional conversation that passed by our house. Children excitedly sang with their parents or spoke of magic from Santa, friends laughed about plans for the next few days and couples discussed anything and everything. The change was pleasant, it wasn’t all in a foreign language or in an unfamiliar setting, it felt secure which was what I was craving for sometime. 

Sitting in the living room with a hot cup of tea whilst I snuggled up in my thick jumper I happily watched Christmas films, something that was a tradition in our family to do on Christmas Eve. I felt content, I was at peace with myself. I’m moving on with my life, I tied up my loose ends with Ashton and he hasn’t been in touch since. Fans quieted down a year or so ago on my behalf, I never looked into why but was grateful for the absence of rumours exploding on my phone. 

A quiet knock on the door interrupted the film during the first twenty minutes. Placing my mug down I looked to my parents, “Expecting anyone?” I spoke up and headed out of the room. 

“Oh it might be Rosemary! You know she said she might pop round.” Chuckling to myself I neared the door and opened it with a wide smile to greet my Mums old friend. 

As the door opened and I held it wide open for her to enter my smile dropped, it vanished entirely. My whole body became tense and I was questioning my eyes, this wasn’t real, this must be dream. It must be

Deep purple bags were etched into his under eyes along with multiple creases surrounding the outer corners of those once vivid blue eyes full of laughter and life. Now they were void of all emotion, life, any source of hope. His entire face seemed broken, his posture weakened and he hung his shoulders forward in defeat. Even from here I could see the trembling of his body, his broad shoulders shaking silently. His lips quivered as he opened his mouth to speak but I couldn’t bare it, my body reacted faster than my brain could process and I slammed the door on him. 

Resting my head against the door the beating of my heart rode over any source of sound. The thumping intensified as I picked out every aspect of him again, but worst of all his eyes. He was broken, truly and completely broken. Ashton said a mess, by a mess I assumed he went off the rails with Arzaylea. The last thing on my mind was him barely able to stand up and hold himself, I didn’t expect to see him here of all places on Christmas Eve. 

Light footsteps could be heard making their way towards me and a hand was placed on my shoulder. “Give him five minutes honey,” My Mum softly spoke to me as I lifted my head from the door frame. The thumping of my heart beat died down, my sense of sound had returned just in time to hear her words of wisdom. “you give him five minutes to explain it all and then it’s up to you what to do next. If you don’t, then you’ll always wonder.” She shrugged her shoulders to me and gave me a small hug before walking away back to the living room, closing the door behind her. 

Glancing down to the door knob I was unaware of my how much my hand was trembling. Her words replayed in my mind as I gripped it instantly then froze as I tried to think what I’d do when I saw him again. 

Taking a deep breath I quickly opened the door expecting to see him stood, waiting for me again. Yet he was nowhere to be seen, in a state of panic various thoughts flooded my mind and my feet lead me down the poorly lit streets. I passed neighbours who wished me a merry Christmas or exchanged mere pleasantries as I stayed light on my feet and eyes peeled out for him. A weak mutter of my name caused me to stop half way up my road, turning around I moved my hair out of my eyes and saw the large tree that the kids played in during summer just before the entrance to the fields. 

Sat beneath them in the remaining sludge he shivered violently, his arms wrapped around his knees he struggled to lift his head to see me. In an instance I rushed over and kneeled in front of him, my right hand reaching out to his cheek and holding it, feeling how bitter it felt and lacked warmth entirely. My other hand was on his knee, unsure what else to do I helped him to his feet and began to walk in silence towards my house. 

It took us a while to walk the short distance, he stumbled over his feet and mostly relied on me to help him. His hand wrapped around mine I blocked out the faint butterflies and carried on. Five minutes may be ten now, but it’s something. As we approached my house I helped him inside and up the stairs, the film could be heard playing and I silently thanked my parents for keeping out of it all. 

Taking him upstairs I grabbed all the blankets I could find as I lead him towards the spare room yet he sidetracked me and walked in the direction of my room. Quickly I tugged his arm, guiding him back the other way silently until he was sat on the spare bed engulfed in layers upon layers of blankets. 

Sitting in front of him I passed him a glass of water, it shaked with force in his hand as he moved it towards his face gulping it down. He leant back into the bed and sighed. I couldn’t help but think continuously what had happened to him, how he ended up here of all places. “Why, why are you here Luke?” Speaking up I broke the silence between the two of us and I fiddled with the loose cotton on the edges of my jumper. 

A long pause followed until he sat upright in front of me. It seemed weird, we were like strangers. This person who sat before me was not one I recognised nor knew in the past. He is a mere shell of who he was when he made me laugh, when he told me he loved me much like myself. I’ve changed and grown yet there’s something, something I can’t put my finger on. 

“I needed to, I needed to see you.” He mumbled as he his fists tightened, I could see the red marks that lined his knuckles and the dried blood that coated them. 

He kept his head down whilst I got up to get some water for his hands to clean them up. As I got to the bathroom I looked at my reflection as I filled a bowl up with warm water. I picked out all the things that had changed about me for the better, I noticed how I seemed happier, things didn’t seem so heavy on me. Yet there was that one thing in my eyes that was growing, that curiosity to who Luke is now. Something I struggle to let go of no matter how much I try to deny it. 

Walking back to the room I open the door to see the pile of blankets left on the bed, vacant of Luke. Placing the bowl down I walk out and head towards my room, the door ajar and he stands taller, broader in the centre just looking around. “You changed.” He spoke up as I lent against the doorway, crossing my arms. 

“It was for the better.” I was clear and confident. Luke turned back around to face me and I could see the hurt in his expression, all he did was nod before walking closer to me. 

The cockiness he greeted me with years ago was gone, the shy boy I first met was gone and in his place was this unknown pain, this feeling I was unfamiliar with. His eyes travelled past my face and to my neck, he lifted his hand up and I pushed it away with force. “You, you still wear the locket?” He sounded surprised and I placed my hand over the necklace, unaware I was wearing it. 

Feeling the locket in my finger tips I showed a small smile, “I always wear it.” My smile began to fade as I straightened back up. “It was one of the only things that wasn’t ruined for me by you.” Walking away I headed back to the spare room and patiently waited for him. 

I could hear my heart beating faster and the blush crossing my cheeks, just like it always did when I was with him. Sitting down I could hear his heavy footsteps nearing and he defeatedly collapsed back down, he placed his hands in front of me with ease. As I cleaned them the clear liquid became diluted with crimson, “So, four years.” He let out a dry laugh in between winces as I carefully dabbed at the cuts that lined his knuckles. 

“Four years.” Repeating his words I pictured the time I had, the good and the bad. Unaware of my pause Luke placed his hand on top of mine, bringing me back into this moment. 

He looked at me with some concern, similar to how he did in the lead up to leaving for a tour. “Ashton told me everything.” He muttered breaking the quiet and I lowered my head, ashamed of what I did despite it all. “What happened to you?” The concern etched into his words as he lowered his voice, his head becoming closer to mine and his hands now on my thighs. 

Moving away from him I let his hands fall down, “Nothing Luke.” Shutting him off I saw his shoulders dip again. “What happened to you?” Raising an eyebrow he pushed himself against the wall and looked me in the eyes. 

“Arzaylea broke up with me, not long after you left.” I scoffed at the thought, unsure how to take the news as it seemed almost ironic. “Then she proceeded to sell the story of our relationship.” He quickly said and my eyes went wide and I couldn’t help but let out a laugh. 

“She, she actually sold your relationship? Wow, that is just a new level of pathetic.” Luke merely nodded in response. For a guy who has had around three years to get over it he doesn’t seem phased. 

He rested his head against the wall and dried his knuckles off, “You know I realised a lot when she was gone.” Sighing I moved my hair out of my face, not sure if I would want to know. 

“Do I need to know this or can I just-” I motioned away but he leant forward again, desperation lingering in his eyes. 

He pleaded, “Please, just hear me out.” Repositioning myself in the chair I gave him my full attention, ready to hear whatever it was he had to say. “When Ashton told me you had gone I was angry, I was angry at you initially but more so at myself for doing this to you.” Nodding along I knew what he meant. “I acted out and she didn’t like it so she called it off. Then I saw the story and went off the rails, I made temporary friends every night, I drank away everything until I remembered mere moments of it stored in my camera roll.” He sighed and buried his head in his hands. “My parents made me get help again, I got out a week ago and I just had to see you.” I could hear the hope in his tone and I shifted on the spot. 

“Sounds tough.” My only response, the one I could word without sounding too harsh or too petty. 

He nodded and let out a dry laugh, one that was slightly unnerving. “I was lost. The person I was is gone and I want him back. It hurts me to know I’m like this and I feel trapped.” 

“I nearly killed myself last year.” I whispered. Something I had never admitted aloud. He remained still, too still. “Things were going well, I learned to love life on my own but one day I woke up and hated everything. I hated that the people I woke up with didn’t care about me. That my memories would fade and all I’d be left with were photos or notes we had. I hated that I was so alone in cities full of life.” My eyes remained shut as I explained, it was something I feared speaking about for too long. 

Yet, I felt if I were to tell anyone it would be Luke. 

“Something was always missing. There was a vacant space lodged inside of me and it only grew the longer I stayed like that. It felt like too much and I wanted it to stop.” I paused for breath and felt a single tear trickle down my cheek. “So I tried to make it stop.” Another tear fell but was wiped away by a heavy hand that rested against my cheek. 

Opening my eyes he sat close in front of me, focused on me entirely with pure empathy. “You tried to make it stop indefinitely?” He whispered and all I could do was nod. 

“When it failed I figured things out. I decided to come home. A fresh start.” I stated and nodded to myself. “Yet I still keep the box your Mum gave me, I’m still wearing the locket from my first Christmas with your family. I still read the lyrics of the song you wrote about me and I can’t-”

He shushed me and moved his hand away from my cheek, “That wasn’t the only song.” A simple sentence that caught my attention, my mouth partially opened as I waited for more to be said. “I wrote so many, there are so many that I wrote, I recorded and kept back for something else.” His fingertips circled my palm as he continued to explain whilst my heart remained lodged in my throat. 

“When I was so close to ending it all there was only one person I wanted to talk to.” Part of me felt so pathetic for admitting it, but it had to be said. I had to be honest, I was always honest with Luke. “All I wanted to do was talk to you, see if I could make some sense of it all with you in mind.” Shaking my head I wiped away the tears that fell, unable to do anything else. 

He held my hands tightly in his, “I will always want to know these things.” I focused on the raw emotion in those blue eyes, “No matter the time, the place, the cost of the phone call I will always want to make sure you are okay.” He kept his eyes on mine, not tearing away for a single second as the words flowed. “You are the one person that matters to me the most. You always have been and this time we’ve had apart has made me realise and put things in perspective.” 

“We’re rare, Luke.” I stated. “Ashton knows, your family knows it, my family try and deny it for my own sake but we can’t.” Shaking my head I let out a small laugh. “Ashton told me years ago about how I can’t see the look you have in your eyes when I’m turned away.” Luke smiled to himself, his gaze torn away from mine. 

“You’re just genuine. You have been you from day one. Remember my letter?” He asked and I nodded, like I could forget. “Every word, every word came from the bottom of my heart. I was still amazed to wake up to you in the mornings we had together. To sit with you at family meals or have someone to open up to on anything.” The light that was vacant slowly reappeared as he streamed the truth, something I’ve been unknowingly waiting for. 

He moved closer and placed his hand on my cheek, stroking it and I placed my hand on top of his, missing his touch. “Things fell apart when I let you go.” I whispered as I flickered from his eyes to his lips.

“I can’t lose you again, not for anything.” He spoke in a hushed tone, as I closed my eyes. “I’ll always be here for you, please know that.” 

I could feel his breath on mine and the beating of my heart blocking out everything except my own words, “We can fix each other, piece by piece.” 

His lips met mine and everything else melted away. All of our memories played back from the first time he approached me to the day I got this locket that I always wore. As I pulled away I rested my forehead against his, letting out a heavy breath. “Merry Christmas Luke.” 

Even after all this time I can no longer deny myself of feelings. I endured more heartache than I ever imagined possible for one heart to deal with. My life felt meaningless and the weight on my shoulders grew with each day that passed as the regret became harder to carry.

 I’m tired of losing those I love. No more tears, no more drama, my search is over at long last and slowly we can mend the pieces that fell apart.

- and that is the end to When Things Fell Apart. It is currently 1:30 in the morning but I had to finish this. My first ever piece I wrote on tumblr now being one of my most successful series’ I cannot thank you enough. Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays, love to you all. - 

unexpectedbehavior  asked:

rough touch

Send “Rough Touch” and I’ll generate a scenario for what our muses do | OPEN
28.  My muse roughly kisses yours.

He’d spotted her from across the room, while he was making his address. Erso’s daughter, he was sure of it. He’d put her into the program after her parents died, hoping to make her into a productive member of the imperial army– hoping that something could be salvaged. But he hadn’t bothered to check in on her since she turned nineteen, since she’d enrolled in the Academy. He didn’t want to be disappointed. 

And yet, here she was. She had to be.. what, in her twenties now? And she wore the rank plaque of a Commander? And her eyes– 

The crowd began to disperse, and he fought his way through clutches of people, determined to get a word with her. She didn’t look like him– and yet she did. It was strange and confusing, and he felt like– well, maybe he owed her something. Or maybe–

“Jyn,” even saying her name felt strange, as if she had grown up into someone else. “Erso,” a little louder, as his hand caught her arm, as his mouth caught hers in a kiss. He hadn’t planned to– but, oh, she tasted like him. It was like muscle memory, even if he was kissing a ghost. The kiss was hard enough to throw them both a bit off balance, to press her against the wall with the weight of his body. He dragged his lips away from hers, heat spreading over his cheeks as he considered what he’d just done.

“I’m sorry–” he said, or tried to, before she kissed him back. 

NANCY DREW DREAMCAST // THE FINAL SCENE

SIMONE MUELLER — Lorraine Toussaint
BRADY ARMSTRONG — Julian Morris
JOSEPH HUGHES — John Mahoney
MAYA NGUYEN — Jamie Chung
NICHOLAS FALCONE — Milo Ventimiglia

anonymous asked:

i wasn't too bothered by the article, as i'd rather read stuff that sounds plausible vs the fiction posted by dan wootton where louis waxes poetic about his girlfriend and harry talks about hooking up with girls, etc. but it was a pretty bleak look at the band. i guess there's only so much you can do to write a feature story with only 5 minutes of interview time with your subject. i wouldn't be surprised if @louis_tomlinson tweets about it being rubbish tbh.

I’m going to put it out there - I don’t think this is as terrible an article as most people seem to find it.  If a random journalist looks at an overworked, over-promoed, manufactured boyband in their fourth year/fourth album/fourth world tour and sees that they’re clearly exhausted, oddly cagey around each other and hesitant to just answer questions without carefully picking their words exactly right, it’s a perfectly natural to think that they must be run-down, disillusioned, in constant disagreements and on the brink of packing up shop, because that’s what happens with 99% of boybands ever.  This article makes a lot of accurate observations about the boys and the way they interview, it’s just that the author has come to the wrong conclusion, and to be honest, who can blame them? From a distance “Larry Stylinson” is almost as fantastical as it can get and boy bands, again, particularly manufactured ones and particularly those who have had untold worldwide success in a fairly short amount of time, have a habit of collapsing in on themselves like a dying star.  It’s not necessarily ‘lazy’ journalism, it’s just written from a very external point of view and to be honest, that’s incredibly valuable to us. This article is the perfect snapshot of what people outside of the fandom, who haven’t been exposed to much information or positive media would think about the boys. 'Oh look, there goes One Direction, aren’t they nearing the end of their shelf-life?’

Why is it useful? Well it’s interesting to see how else their band’s awkwardness is being interpreted. There is a difference between what we’re told of the band’s official narrative (which we will measure and consider and often exclude), and what the average Suzy Citizen has gleened of One Direction and I think that’s a gap worth measuring. You need to know what these perceptions are, in order to change them. 

I’m also going to say, publications like the Guardian don’t make up celebrity interactions. (For that matter, as fucking horrible as it was, neither does GQ.) Yes, the article was written in the drawling, arrogant tone of the majority of pieces from publications like this, where it’s still cool to be cynical, but it’s still a respected source of information and they don’t have anything to gain by having the author pretend to bump into Harry days after the interview.

Was this an unflattering article about One Direction? Hell yes, 100%.  Could it have been worse? A million times over. Was it interesting as hell? Yup, definitely. 

And interestingly too, this article isn’t mutually exclusive to a big coming out; when all of this comes out in the wash, it’s a fantastic jumping off point for The Guardian to come back and say “Ah-ha! We knew something weird was going on with that band! But we didn’t know it was closeting...” and all of a suddenly, legitimate explanation in place, everything goes back to being above board, no questions asked. 

I’ve been struggling with writing anything at all lately that this actually feels like a big accomplishment… even though I’m probably only halfway done with the first chapter of a multi-chapter murder husbands fic. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Right now it’s just all awkward bed sharing and subpar wine under the stars and I actually feel kind of bad for the slow-burn-Will-is-actually-the-biggest-tease-in-existence torture i’m about to put poor Hannibal through…

IT HAPPENED

So I promised a video didn’t I. 

Send me questions? Or things to say or show you or something. Especially the anon who suggested it originally, I expect several from you cause this is your fault

Also not as important, but last week I reached 1000 on my prompts blog so yay for that as well!! You guys rock

anonymous asked:

I don't really get the Rory hate, I'm only like halfway through Spring though so idk. I've always loved Rory the most and I find it weird that people dislike her so much since she's always been nicer than Lorelai. Her being with Logan while knowing that he has a fiancée is really bad though, I hope she realizes that later on. It feels like a repeat of the whole thing with Dean and Lindsay, you'd think she would have learned her lesson.

i don’t think it’s a matter of rory being nice (because she is!!) she’s just…. she’s the archetype of the privileged sheltered rich white girl, and the show has never shied away from this. 

i think this revival has really hammered home the fact that rory has never had to strive for anything, or conquer any obstacles without literally an entire town telling her that she is The Best and She Deserves Everything. rory may have dreams of being a Serious Writer and a Globetrotting Changemaker but she’s never had the strength or the constitution for it (or arguably the talent but that’s up to you), and until now we haven’t seen the consequences of that. i love rory like she’s my own kid, so this isn’t coming from a place of malice, but the younger lorelai has always had an easy path, and anytime that changes she deals with it in an atrocious way. rory has a lot of “growing up” to do, and when you’re 32 it’s not really cute anymore.