is it my old man cardigan


Does anyone else wish they’d just dedicate a whole episode to Sam and Dean shopping for their disguises? How does it work exactly? Dean driving around, looking for a store in whatever random ass town they’re in, with a scowl, “What the hell does a social worker even wear?”  

Sam shrugging, “I don’t know, man, cardigans?” 

Really, Sam? Cardigans? What am I, Mr. Rogers?” 

“Kids like Mr. Rogers.” 

You liked Mr. Rogers,” Dean huffs, squinting as he looks for any sign of a store. “Where the fuck are we supposed to get cardigans?”

“How the hell should I know? Woolworths? Is that still a thing?” 

Dean muttering as they walk around the mall, dodging teenagers, and trying to find anything that resembles a cardigan, “I’m too old for this bullshit.” 


so as of today, i have the same kimono that tyler wears onstage.

if you know me, you know i love my old kimono. for two years i’ve worn the most similar looking replica of tyler’s. this kimono helped me learn what it meant to be comfortable in my own skin. it taught me how to deal with toxic masculinity. that’s something i grappled with a lot growing up. not being man enough, being shunned for enjoyed feminine aspects of things. i know it’s not as serious a social issue as so many others, and i’m sincerely not trying to make it seem that way; it’s just what i was faced with. but once i saw tyler wearing this flowery cardigan onstage, alongside the skeleton hoodies, ski masks, and jumpsuits, i knew that here was a guy who was unafraid to express himself, to resist conformity, to say “look. you will not define me. this range of outfits is mine and mine alone. and this is my identity”.

nothing stuck out at me so much as the kimono. to take a traditionally woman’s garment and and show that it’s not intrinsically feminine, that it was a thing of objective beauty and to wear it was to appreciate that beauty, regardless of who you are. i’ve worn the kimono to each of the seven shows i’ve been two. each time it’s strengthened my belief that identity is not constricted to your gender, and that i am surrounded by a community of people who support that idea just as much as i do. now that replica kimono is old, frayed, ripped at the seams. now i’ve found the same one that tyler himself wears on that stage, when he sings to millions around the globe. now i wear the message that tyler wears each night like a badge of honor. and it makes me feel all the more beautiful. 🌸

              darling, we will never break (a twelve/clara roadtrip playlist) for @longjackets​. happy birthday sweetheart!

 ‘the strain, the low, soft, ache of Billie Holiday crackles through the cheap speakers, in their cheap chevrolet; and he looks up at her, through shadowed lashes, as she crawls into the back seat. He wants to say something, anything, wants to say what’s the point, i’m going to lose you,  opens his mouth. But she puts her hand on his shoulder, and her lips against his ear, shuffles into his lap. She tells him to shut up for once before she lets her lips graze across his cheek, to the edges of his sad mouth. 

So he kisses her instead, teeth and tongues and tragedy, mumbles happy birthday as he pulls the cardigan from her shoulders. [from upcoming angsty roadtrip fic]

to the sea//seafret, rose carney  the man comes around//johnny cash georgia//vance joy landlocked blues//bright eyes   it is what it is//kacey musgraves  gone tomorrow//the staves   atlas hands//benjamin francis leftwich   georgia on my mind//billie holiday how could i have known//keaton henson  hello my old heart//the oh hellos gracious//ben howard delicate//damien rice the way you look tonight//ella fitzgerald

[listen here]

gay-for-sailor-neptune  asked:

Hi, I don't know if you got my message I know you probably get so many. I just wanted to know if this was weird of me to do.. I often wear long sleeve or short sleeve shirts just enough to cover one of my tattoos that I get questioned on all the time? I've even had people on here or customers where I work at asking to take pictures of this tattoo so they can take it into shops.. and yes I do post my tattoos. And yes everyone has the Disney castle but this means something to me.

Hey, i wear long sleeves almost all year. I have two really light weight full length cardigans from uniqlo that I LIVE for all summer long. niiice and breezy, without any sunburn.
Honestly, if someone asked to take a picture of one of my tattoos I would probably say no. Not on some high and mighty shit, but honestly i’m just not into it. 
One time at my old coffee shop a man, a business cool guy sort of man, you might know the type. They’re always real, like, apple savvy, you know? Well, anyway. He orders, and then he goes, “Hey, how much did your sleeve cost?” and in the same tone that I took his order in, you know, light, phone-call voice, I said, “oh, i’m sorry, that’s personal.” 
and he took off his sunglasses (or i made that up, but still) and he said, “Excuse me?” and just kindly I said, “It’s just a personal subject to me–would you like a printed receipt?”
and he spit back, “No! I don’t want anything from you!” then he waited to me to give him his coffee, since I was the only one at the booth, lol. 
but yo, what i’m trying to say is, strangers aren’t entitled to your body, and by the way this man reacted, I feel like I may have been the first person to tell him no in his entire life. 
and I wasn’t wrong, and you’re not wrong to say no too. If if makes you feel weird, then you don’t have to justify your reason. I could post a million pictures of my tattoo online, it doesn’t mean that I don’t have a right to privacy. ESPECIALLY at work. 


Flower Shop/Tattoo Parlor AU fluffy fluff

I loved your fic so much I was inspired by it. 💐🖊


You’re sitting outside with Shawn as you go through the rest of your orders for the week. Shawn himself is deep in thought as he’s finalizing a piece for an afternoon appointment. You take a peek at the clock inside to see that it’s 11:30 and a smile crosses your face. You reach your hand across the small wicker table and you squeeze his arm gently to get his attention. “It’s Tuesday,” you say as you stand from your seat. It takes a second for him to understand but finally he does. “Lilies?”, he asks. “Lilies.”, you respond as you nod your head. You make your way inside the shop to retrieve the bouquet from the back. After giving it a quick inspection and doing some rearranging you hear the door chime.

“Ah, y/n. How’s my favorite flower girl doing?”, Mr. Anderson quips as he makes his way towards the counter. For as long as you can remember, even before taking over the shop, he’s made it every Tuesday at 11:35 like clockwork. He was a sweet old man who had a knack for pastel cardigan sweaters and hooligan hats. His favorite gray one currently adorning the top of his head. “I’m doing great, Mr. Anderson,” you reply, lilies in hand. “How’s the Mrs?”, you ask. And without fail, a smile comes to his face whenever he talks about his wife. “She’s doing just wonderful, dear,” he starts. He then tells you about their weekend and how their grandchildren came to visit.

You’re listening to his story when out of the corner of your eye you see Shawn gazing at you from his seat outside. There’s a soft look in his eyes and a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth before he goes back to working on his piece. You bring your attention back to Mr. Anderson as he’s finishing up. He seemed to notice the distraction, though. “So…who’s the young man?”, he questions as he points his head towards the window. You laugh at his attempt to be subtle. “Thats Shawn. He owns the tattoo parlor across the street.” “I see. Is that all?”, he presses on. “He also happens to be my boyfriend.” At this point there’s a full grin on your face and you can’t help it.

Mr. Anderson takes your hands into both of his, “Does he make you happy?” He’s looking at you over the rim of his glasses and your response is instant, “Yes. Yes he does. I’ve never been this happy before,” you gush. And it’s true. There’s a twinkle in his eye as he smiles at you. “Good. You deserve to be happy, my dear.” A wave of emotion hits you as you do everything in your power to not cry. He’s searching your face and chuckles, “That’s love, y/n. Don’t let that go. I never did.” He gives your hands a squeeze before letting go to retrieve his wallet to pay. You hand him the lilies and with a fond smile you tell him thank you. “Of course, my dear. Of course,” he responds. You follow him outside and lean against the door frame. “Same time next week?” “You betcha,” he says with a wink.

At this point Shawn’s watching the interaction and Mr. Anderson walks up to him. He’s peeking over the rim of his glasses again as he gives Shawn a once over. He then places his free hand on Shawn’s shoulder, “Take care of flower girl, you hear me?” He pats Shawn’s shoulder before looking at you at nodding his head. “I’ll see you two next week,” he says as he makes his way down the sidewalk with a bouquet of lilies.

You sit down next to Shawn and there’s a confused look on his face. “What just happened?”, he asks. You giggle at his reaction and all you can do is reach out and lace your fingers with his as you look back at him.

“I’m happy.”



Sweet old grandpas are so precious 💐🖊



Note: Originally submitted this anonymously to @thesmutofthemendes before finally creating this tumblr. Reposting this here for a masterlist of sorts.

Anyways, this ficlet was inspired by an AU imagine M had written here and I highly suggest checking it out. Enjoy.

You’re sitting outside with Shawn as you go through the rest of your orders for the week. Shawn himself is deep in thought as he’s finalizing a piece for an afternoon appointment. You take a peek at the clock inside to see that it’s 11:30 and a smile crosses your face. You reach your hand across the small wicker table and you squeeze his arm gently to get his attention. 

“It’s Tuesday,” you say as you stand from your seat. It takes a second for him to understand but finally he does. 

“Lilies?” he asks. 

“Lilies,” you respond as you nod your head. You make your way inside the shop to retrieve the bouquet from the back. After giving it a quick inspection and doing some rearranging you hear the door chime.

Keep reading


My Life lol

Drunk, faded

Browned out, looking all shady

Two months since I fucked a lady

Young man dick going crazy

Standard Saturday

I’m about to get a cab and masturbate

Then I see a hot girl I bet I could date

“Lemme get your cat girl, no Hathaway”

That what I thought not what I said to her

Instead I walk up to her like

“I know you heard of the kid

You heard what I did

You heard of my shit

The murderous spit”

She’s like “Naw

You’re being weird

What are you talking about?”

I’m like “Aw.”

Pulling out my phone like a boss

YouTube bout to get her off

But as I type the y-o-u

Some porno pop up

I’m like

“Hold up, how di-, that’s not even me like, I don’t jerk off mobily.”

Then her friends coming up and want to know if everything is okay

I’m like

“Naw this a rape, can’t tell? Give me a break please, get the heck away.”

I turned to her

“Let me buy you a drink.”

She like “Fine.”

Told the man two Patron

She like “Lime.”

Said he tried twice the card got declined

I’m like

“Are, is this, could it be a machine issue?”

He was like “Naw.”

I was like

“Obviously there’s something wrong

I got dough like, I’m not broke, I got donuts with the same card like about an hour ago.”

He like “Dude, I don’t know.”

Now I’m looking at the girl she just wanna go

And I ain’t talking bout with me, bro. I mean alone

I got one more chance to prove myself so I’m like-

“Look, I’m athletic, girl. I’ve gotten several rec-league MVPs

At my crib I’ve got some pizza. Plus a little bit of weed

In my room I’ve got a TV. Plus I recently did sheets

Girl, I even have a fridge that has the water on the door like with the crushed ice”

You know I don’t give a damn whatcha playin’ right now

This is me coming at you as a man right now

Lemme freak

Lemme freak, god dammit, lemme freak

Just lemme freak, please god

Just lemme freak

The girl from the first verse

Somehow let me fuck

Fast forward, seven months

We in love

Some real serious relationship-type shit

Despite this I ain’t fucked for days

Tried last night but was pushed away

But I’ve been acting well behaved today, I smell okay

Adele Pandora’s playing, now she laying

On the floor and I’m praying this bitch is horny

I go and give her a smooch

She kissing Dicky back, so I play with her boobs

Bad move, she don’t like that

Bad mood, her boss being mean to her

Via email, she wanna write back

I’m like “Right now?”

She like “Yeah, what do I say, can you just help me?”

“Ok, whats the context?”

Then she like “Well, he talks to Jane before coming to me.”

“Who’s Jane again?” I said

She like “Wow, you should know that.”

“Ok, I guess I forgot.”

She like “Dude, that’s my other boss.”

“Ok, true, so shouldn’t your first boss go to the other boss before you? Right?”

“But Jane isn’t hands on!” she yelled

“Ok, well I just don’t understand the dynamic then, I don’t work with these people.”

She started crying

“Wait stop, what the fuck is this?”

“Naw, you don’t ever take my side!”

About an hour later til’ I’m on her good side

We in bed, hands on her good thighs

I try to kiss, she like “Good night.”

But I’m like-

“Look, I just turned off The Departed for a movie about a bee

I’ve been cutting back on farting, tweeting, arguing, and weed

Yesterday I wore a cardigan at dinner with your sweet, and supportive…

And during the fourth quarter, of the Eagles!

Now reward it!”

You know I don’t give a damn whatcha playin right now

This is me coming at you as a man right now

Lemme freak

Lemme freak, god dammit, lemme freak (It’s all I need)

Just lemme freak, please god

Just lemme freak

Fast forward some more, June 16, 2074

Old LD looking old as fuck

Still with the same ho, holding up

My life sucks, legs hurt

Friends dead, realtors

“Would you shut up? Fuck.”

My dick looking like it’s tinfoil

Her tits looking like they hard boiled eggs

On top of that, she insane

Like I don’t even think she knows who I am

Our kids moved away, we’ve been doing the same shit for days

Maybe months, who knows

Probably going to die soon

Pretty scared I ain’t even going to lie to you

Think about it all day, on my last legs

But I’m going out with a bang

I got pills they invented back in ‘57

I took five, that’s a bit excessive

I look high, take a look at my thighs and good god that’s a little erection

It’ll work though

Now I’ve gotta find the ho

I’m pretty much blind at this point, I don’t know if I mentioned that yet…

But I am

Made my way into the bedroom and there she is

I’m like-

“Look, I don’t know if you’re aware that you’ve been throwing out my shoes

What I do know is I’m sick of doing nothing here with you

All my blood is in my dick, I’’m probably dying pretty soon

Are you even comprehending what I’m saying, please acknowledge that you hear me.”

You know I don’t give a damn whatcha playing right now

This is me coming at you as a man right now

Lemme freak

Lemme freak, god dammit, lemme freak (Lemme freak)

Just lemme freak, please god

Just lemme freak 

Terrible Things (Part 2)

Imagine Dean trying to impress you by taking you out on a case, while trying to maintain his cover by pretending to be a private investigator.

Author: hogwartsismyhometoo

Requested By: 13sjacobs

Word Count: 4,195

Read Part One


I didn’t know what one normally wore on a PI case/date/outing with total stranger, but I figured I should wear something nice. At least something that wasn’t stained with tomato soup.

After some primping and much scowling in the mirror, I took a few seconds to take deep breaths and relax. It was going to be fine. I was going to be fine, he was going to be fine, everything was going to be fine.

I had just enough time to panic about the fact that I was going on a maybe date with a man I’d barely met along with his tall and strong-looking brother on a possible murder case. No big deal. But as I was starting to hyperventilate, I heard the rumble of an old engine crescendo up my street.

I dashed over to the full-length mirror and my bedroom and took one last glance at my reflection. The dress I’d chosen—a cute but casual purple summer dress with a floral print and matching cardigan—was smoothed out, the black leggings I wore with it had no holes in them, and my makeup hadn’t smudged anywhere. I pulled on a pair of flats, grabbed my purse, and flung the front door open.

I let out a little, “Oh!” of surprise as almost collided with Dean, his fist poised in a knocking position. He blinked at me, the only part of him that moved. He didn’t seem to know what to do or say now that I’d opened the door.

Keep reading

Eggsy had been so terrified to meet Harry’s father.

All along the interminable drive through the countryside, Eggsy had been bouncing out of his seat. He’d even been so nervous he’d demanded Harry pull over so he could ah, work out his emotions. Once. Or twice. Then again in the backseat.

The minute the Benz had swept up the drive to the Georgian house and three purebred Pomeranians had come running to greet them, he’d been so nervous the nausea had him swallowing hard in case he actually managed to throw up.

But no, really, he had been a nervous wreck before that.

He’d honestly just never met almost anyone’s dad before, barring maybe …well no this was a bona fide first. And Harry wasn’t entirely affectionate in his recollections of his father. There was a strain of resentment, a certain cold unease. If Eggsy could sometimes sense a dead vine of self-doubt at Harry’s throat, he didn’t need much imagination to divine where the seed had come form.

He was expecting a frozen hearted, cold man with perfect manners that dripped disdain with every word. One who would spend about fifteen minutes looking down his nose at Eggsy without addressing him directly before lecturing Harry for fifteen hours on how the whole country was going to hell in a handbasket. Because of certain types.

When Harry had slowly walked out of the car and pulled Eggsy along with him, he had immediately been greeted with a shout.


Eggsy had whirled around to find that an elderly man adorned in an old wool cardigan and cap was stumping down the lawn, assisted by a cane and veering wildly from side to side on his good leg.

“Father!” snapped Harry. He immediately ran to grab the man by the arm and haul him towards the front door. “You shouldn’t be out walking by yourself.”

“I’M AS GOOD ON TWO LEGS AS I EVER WAS,” insisted the elderly gent, very close to Harry’s ear. “Stop worrying. Come now, I need my excitement at my age. Have the young man do a gymnastic”

Harry cast a look over his shoulder to gesture at Eggsy to hurry along as he pulled his father into the house. Eggsy had frozen by the car. Harry’s mouth was already set in a thin worried line, and he had an arm around his father that really did look a bit too tight.

“Do a gymnastic,” insisted the elderly man. “And you must stay for dinner.”

Eggsy stared in between Harry and his father for a long moment. Then he shrugged and back flipped into the house. He skidded a bit as he landed on the marble floor in the front hallway, but looked up at the two generations of Hart men with a raised eyebrow.

“Jolly good!” shouted the elderly Hart. “Again!”

“I hope you realize you’ll have to do that on command from now on,” muttered Harry darkly, and he led his father over to have tea.

There were a few signs here and there that the patriarch’s health wasn’t as good as it should be. His hands shook as he counted out a large number of pills before his evening meal, that Harry insisted on checking himself as well.

Harry’s hands started to shake when his father lit a pipe after dinner.

“Don’t you give me that look lad,” huffed the his father. “Eggsy I could tell you stories about our Harry that would turn your hair grey.”

“Please do,” said Eggsy with his most winning smile, as he folded Harry’s hands into his own. He kept them there until the man concluded a rather impressive monologue.

“… and so the Headmaster invited Harry back to school, but he still hadn’t got all of the chickens out of his car.”

Eggsy howled with laughter along with Mr. Hart while Harry muttered a few sulky words into his whiskey.

It wasn’t until bedtime, when Eggsy had changed into a rather stiff set of pyjamas that he actually began to worry though. He was returning from the loo down the hall when he saw Harry’s father standing still in the hallway, eyes transfixed into the distance.

“Er- excuse me sir -”

The man jumped and turned to stare at Eggsy.

“Bless my soul! Who are you?”

His eyes were blank of recognition. Eggsy swallowed.

“I’m Eggsy - er Gary Unwin I suppose -”

“Oh yes, I remember now,” sighed the old man. “You know my son Harry would love you. You have a much kinder face than that trollop he -”

“Father!” Harry’s eyes were wide. “Let me bring you to your room.”

“Of course, of course,” the old man waved at his son. “Don’t fuss. Please.” His eyes went back to Eggsy. “And goodnight Eggsy. It was a pleasure meeting you indeed.”

The recognition was back in his eyes, and he seemed far more composed once his son had appeared. But still.

That night Eggsy waited in bed for Harry, until the man re-appeared. His face was exhausted. Wordless, he lay down in bed with Eggsy then rolled over and pressed his face into the younger man’s stomach. A strong feeling of helplessness settled over Eggsy as Harry’s shoulders began to shake and dampness began to seep onto his stomach. There wasn’t much he could do but wrap his arms around the man. Eventually Harry’s shoulders stilled, but he still lay with his face pressed into Eggsy’s stomach.

Finally he rolled over, and stared up at Eggsy, eyes red. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing but a long gust of a sigh came out.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Eggsy. He leaned down, pressed his lips softly against Harry’s brow, at the worry lines. “I’m so sorry.”

Harry looked up at him with a weak smile. “You know he trained Merlin himself? Invented half of our Kingsman tech single handed.” A long sigh. “Though I suppose that part of his memory is still sound.”

Eggsy nodded. He wrapped his arms around his lover and continued pressing kisses against his face until they both drifted off to sleep.

He and She (1) *Her Perspective*

I was carrying a huge load of groceries up the stairs to my apartment when I felt my phone buzzing against my hip. I knew it had to be him. He had been suffering all weekend with a major sore throat, stomach ache and night sweats that was only progressively getting worse. He had mentioned the night before that he made an appointment with his doctor first thing in the morning. I picked up the pace to try and get inside before the call went to voice mail. I plopped the groceries down on the floor before I was barely through the door way. Fumbled through the pocket of my skirt and quickly slid my finger across the screen. “Hey man! How’d you make out?” I was so out of breath and I was hoping he didn’t notice. 

“ugh, apparently I have some kind of virus, just gotta let it run its course or something. But I got some sweet pain killers at least that will help impress my cough!”

I couldn’t help but laugh. He sounded like he had been out drinking. “Hah, I think you mean SUPPRESS your cough. Sounds like it’s starting to kick in!” He giggled back and said something inaudible. “hey, I just bought stuff to make my homemade seven vegetable soup. How about I whip it up now and bring you over a bowl?”

“awwwwe that sounds awesome! are you sure you’re not busy?" I felt a little flushed. Technically I had piles of homework taunting me on the kitchen table. Grad school is ruining my life. But I giddily said "Oh n-no! I’ll text you once I’m on my way! You need anything else?”

hmmm maybe just some tissues; I already went through like five boxes.” Jeez. “Alright, talk to you soon!”

As I prepped my soup I couldn’t help but spill a few ingredients and let the broth boil over a few times. I was so nervous to go see him. I didn’t know why; we had been friends for five years and we have never been boyfriend and girlfriend or anything serious like that. But going over his place while he was in this vulnerable state just made me.. nervous. I finally put a good portion of the soup in a Tupperware container, grabbed a box of Kleenex infused with Vick’s, a couple of movies and was about to head out the door when.. I saw it hanging on my coat rack behind the door. I contemplated for a minute or two and thought, it could come in handy while he’s in this condition. So I grabbed it, shoved it deep in my purse and stormed out the door.

He told me to let myself in so he wouldn’t have to get up out of bed. I saw his bedroom door was open, and I heard his radio playing softly in the background. I walked over to the door frame and knocked although he could see me. “there she is! awwwwe seriously it was so nice of you to bring that over to me; I’m sure it’s delicious! I would hug you but, ya know, my current condition." I blushed a little too hard. I hate to say it but I kind of expected him to look a little more.. gross. For being sick and all. But he looked so relaxed. His shoulder-length hair was tussled just right. And he was wearing a very fitted sweater that really complimented his body, even though he’s quite skinny. I found myself specifically attracted to his chest which was heaving up and down; probably partially from being happy to see me and fever sweats.

"Oh no trouble at all; I’m glad I could help in some way.” I took a seat at the corner of the bed. “I brought some movies for later in case you wanna just lay back and zone out.”

“Perfect!” he said, as he laid back with his arms behind his head. I could tell he was still a little loopy from the drugs, which kind of boosted my confidence in the next series of questions I decided to ask him.

“So, how did your doctor’s appointment go? How’d they determine you had a virus?”

He cleared his throat and said “Well first they took my temperature, and turns out I have a fever of 101. Yikes. So then they stuck that q-tip thingy down my throat to see if I had strep throat or any other infection and it came back negative. The whole experience was unpleasant. Just like, the though of someone you barely know touching you all over and seeing you literally naked and  emotionally naked. it just seems like too intimate  of an experience just for someone to say ‘hey, you have a virus! Here’s some pain killers, good luck!’”

He always makes me laugh. “haha, yes I agree completely. They don’t even know you like that and they’re studying your insides. Looking in your eyes, down your throat, feeling your stomach.. listening to your heartbeat and breathing..” I felt my face turn red hot with that last comment, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Right? Oh god, that reminds me. Since I was sick and sweating, and had to climb up five flights of stairs due to elevator maintenance, my heart was pounding through my entire appointment. It was so embarrassing when he had to listen to it. I was trying to calm myself down which failed miserably. And then had to take my blood pressure. TWICE.”

I felt a smirk of delight stretch across my face. I couldn’t help it. The thought of his heart pounding against his thin chest must have been a sight to see, nevermind HEAR. Wow. the doctor probably didn’t even need an.. instrument for that. I then noticed I had my eyes fixed on the left side of his chest which was covered by that thin, maroon colored cotton. I shook my head back into reality and quickly replied with “Oh wow yeah, I feel ya I would have felt embarrassed too. Definitely.” There was a brief moment of silence; Just enough time to feel my heart throb about five beats before I asked “Is your heart still hammering away?”

“oh, nooo the medicine they gave me is a suppressant, so it’s actually really slow right now. Slow to a point where I can’t even feel it, really. Kinda freaks me out. Sometimes i’ll sit really still and try to focus on it just to make sure it’s still beating, hah.” Although he was still a little dazed, I could tell he was nervous as he broke eye contact with me and started repetitively tucking his hair behind his ears. 

“oh wow, that sounds pretty unsettling. Maybe you should get that doctor back in here to have another listen to you, hah.”

“oh God please no hah, that would be anxietyville all over again….. I’d rather have someone I’m comfortable with listen to me. And I’m definitely not comfortable with any old guys in white coats.” he said with a shakey voice; still frantically tucking his hair behind his ears; going back and forth from making eye contact with me to looking out the window. I was in pretty deep at this point, so I decided to go for the gold.

“Well.. would you be comfortable with me listening to you? Instead of an old man in a white coat whom you barely know, a young girl in a cardigan whom you’ve known well for five years?”

He laughed at my little joke, as I waited in agony for him to realize I was serious. His eyes met mine and he stared at me for a moment, his facial expression becoming more intense with awe. “Would you really want to listen to my heartbeat?”

I snatched my purse before my confidence disintegrated and reached in to grab what was hanging off my coat rack at home.

“oh, wow…. you own a stethoscope?" 

I nodded shyly and without saying a word, quickly placed the ear pieces in, hoping it would interrupt him from maybe asking why I have one. And to my surprise, he just as quickly removed that maroon sweater of wonder and exposed the smooth, milky skin of his chest. I heard my own heart thudding through the ear pieces as I gazed at his thin yet defined torso. I was hoping my own pounding heart wouldn’t block out the sound of his beautiful pump. I sat closer to him; right beside his hip. I leaned towards him as I slowly placed the chest piece directly over his heart.

And there it was. Just as magnificent and strong as I imagined. All I could hear was the thrum of his heart; it seemed to roar in my ear canals like a motorcycle going through a tunnel. And it was certainly not slow as he predicted.. It was going at a pace of at LEAST 120BPM. I was struck with such awe; it felt like I was completely within my mind and no longer physically in the room. I couldn’t tell you how long I remained still and silent in that position until I finally faded back into reality a bit and said to him "I thought that medication you’re on is supposed to SLOW your heart rate?” He sheepishly grinned at me; grabbing at his hair again, trying not to turn red.

As time passed, I found myself from sitting beside him, to propping myself up with one arm, to laying parallel to him with barely room for air to pass between our skin. I could not get enough of his heartbeat. The openings of my ears had gone numb by this point, but I didn’t care.His thump-thump,thump-thump,thump-thump, was keeping me stimulated. I only started to notice time’s passing when I noticed his heart was slowing down significantly. I then looked over at his face to see that he was struggling to stay awake.

“You know, if you want to get some rest, don’t let me stop you.”

He then flashed a tired smile at me and said “are you sure you don’t mind? It’s honestly about time this medicine put me to sleep.”

“No, not in the least.” He then closed his eyes and passed out almost immediately. His heart had slowed down to a steady 50BPM. It was enticing. His breathing was so shallow, I could barely see his chest move. He looked so peaceful. I would not move the stethoscope once from that sweet spot on his chest. I felt his heartbeat roll beneath my fingers and the stethoscope with such consistent force, that I thought maybe I was also listening at his PMI. I couldn’t think about it too much; the pure sound of his heartbeat had left me weak enough. I involuntarily placed my hand on his warm cheek, and felt his subtle breath touch my fingers.. I felt like I was holding his life in my hands, I just could not take myself away from this moment. The combination of his melodic heartbeat, soft skin, and the sunset peering through the slits in the blinds made me visualize him as an angel.  I knew when he would wake up the next day, he would be in a different state of mind after the drugs had left his system. I wasn’t too sure if he would remember this moment or not, at least in the way I remember it.

WOW okay so there it is! I’ll write the story from “his” perspective some time over the weekend! Don’t worry it won’t be as long, I just wanted a bit of background for the very first story :) PLEASE tell me what you think! I hope it interests you fellow cardiophiles! I know it’s a bit mushy rather than erotic but give them time ;)

Stood Up; Hidashi Short Fic

A gift for emmaburritos! A simple and short story,and my introduction into the Hidashi fandom!

Hiro was expecting his date to arrive any minute.

He toyed with the straw of his now empty orange soda, pushing it this way then that, watching as the melting ice cubes stirred with the straw., making that annoying but satisfying clinking sound. His date was only ten minutes late, it was okay, nothing to worry about, Hiro told himself over and over. Though this was the exact reason he didn’t have this date planned at his aunts cafe, he didn’t want her looking over in concern and worry every minute he was alone. And he REALLY didn’t want her to go off in a tangent about being punctual when his date would arrive. Way to kill the mood. Instead he picked a simple, nice and clean diner where no one knew him, where the majority of the customers were regulars or others on dates wanting a cheap place to be together. Oh, and to add to that, a place where the waitress was walking towards him again. Did she suspect he was stood up already?

“Are you ready to order, sir?” She asked, a smile on her lips.
“Ah, no, not yet. I’m kinda waiting for someone, can you give me a bit longer?”
“Of course, I’ll get a refill of your drink as well.”

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You & I Chapter Three

Chapter Three

“Bee, I feel really underdressed.” Chris said. They had just left their hotel and were now on their way to meet Billie’s father and his wife for brunch.

He was surprised that Billie was dressed to the nines in a dark blue wiggle dress and heels, while he chose to wear his favorite dark blue cardigan, a t-shirt, and jeans. She swore that he looked fine, and even said that she loved that sweater on him. But he knew that she was lying because she always made fun of him for wearing it, and said that it made him look like an old man.

“But I thought this was just a simple brunch. Yet here you are all dolled up.”

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To my friend @arbyeatscheesebuns It was a pleasure writing this and I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I have. Tonight ends the official Christmas Season for me. This is the conclusion.  If you would like to read the first chapters you can do them by clicking here

Thank you for your kindness to @hijacked-victor, and @titania522 for the encouragement and edits and for the banner created by the lovely @otrascosasseries

Thank you Suzanne Collins for the Hunger Games (which I do not own.)

It was the morning of Christmas Eve. Katniss sat in the local jail cell wondering what was going on. It was empty and silent. When they arrested her, Peeta tried to help her. He told them he was not kidnapped. The cops arrested her anyways and dragged her out of her house. Katniss rubbed her face.

She was glad her family was not arrested. They were in shock and upset especially with the wild accusations Glimmer and her crony Clove were making at the time of the arrest. Katniss was sure her family most likely abandoned her. She refused to make her one free call, there was no one who she could call. Angry frustrated tears appeared fell from her eyes. Once more Katniss felt sorry for herself, thinking everyone abandoned her.

“Katniss Everdeen?" 

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Prophet of the Lord (part 7)

Angel: Gabriel
Reader: Female
Words: 1557
Author: Scruff
Warning(s): swearing, season 9 stuff
Note(s): Continuation of: “What if Metatron hadn’t “flipped the switch” fast enough after Kevin’s death?”
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
Summary:  Gabriel had just gotten through telling you that you were being stupid.  That’s putting it mildly.

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juniel covers masterpost

C: I live at home with my parents. I walk around the house fully covered w a large cardigan, baggy sweat pants and t shirts because my father makes inappropriate comments about my weight and my body in general. I know this isn’t my home and walking around half naked is out of the question but I shouldn’t have to be dressed like a nun either. He looks me up and down w the creepiest look on his face that seems to be a combination of disgust with my drastic weight gain (due to depression from unemployment and living at home) and old man perviness. I don’t know what to do or how or tell him that his ogling my body is demeaning, disgusting, inappropriate, and makes me very uncomfortable. It makes me feel like I am nothing more than the body parts which he seems to be so fixated with. I don’t know whether to just keep my mouth shut and just focus on landing a job and getting the hell out of here - or speaking to him about it which will make for a very awkward conversation that will likely alarm my mother and lead to a lot of over-reactions.

anonymous asked:

What are your thoughts on people hate on Stephen wife and the constant demeaning her and her relationship with him? I'm actually quite disgusted by this fandom actually they are grown women with kids and married themselves! You can ignore this if you wish but I really wanted to hear your opinion on what's going on.

Hi Anon,

You know I usually stay away from this topic. Because let’s be honest, I simply don’t give a flea on a dog’s ass about actors families. This is me being real with you.

I’m a hardcore David Ramsey fan, he’s married with a kid, and I couldn’t tell you the first thing about his family. You know why? I just don’t care. They’re his family, we all have them. Cool. I don’t get the big deal.

But here’s the thing, David tends to keep his family side out of the spotlight and his professional life. With the exception of those rare moments, like any parent, when he just wants to gush about his kid. And I love that. I don’t want to hear about his wife when all I want to do is worship and objectify him. What? LOL.

Maybe it’s because I don’t have small kids, but I don’t get all tingly when I see Stephen with his kid. I’m more of the , “cute pic, now take your shirt off” type of fan. *shrugs*

And now that you mention it, I wish people would make their minds up over what/whom this fandom’s demographic is comprised of, one minute you claim it’s comprised of teenagers, the next it’s comprised of grown women, married, etc. How about we just say this fandom is comprised of a variety of people? Married, single, teens, men, restaurants, actors, celebrities, etc?

Now back to the subject of Stephen and fans feelings on his wife and family. I just don’t care. This is not something that’s new with fans. So I don’t get the pearl clutching when it occurs with Stephen.

Blame Hollywood, the actors, or the industry itself for breeding the type of fans that take things there.

Look at Ian and Nina from the Vampire Diaries. He’s recently married and you see the same thing.

Look at Brad, Angelina and Jennifer Aniston.

Ryan Gosling, Rachel Adams, and Eva Mendes.

Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart.

Stories like these crossed the lines of fact and fiction.

Stephen is one half of an extremely popular fictional pairing. He wasn’t going to escape this. The same could be said to the Colton fans that get upset because they think Emily and Colton are dating. So when she takes pics with other men, they become offended and outraged that she’s cheating on Colton. 

Stephen seems to handle things well by simply posting pics of his family to remind fans that he’s married and seems pretty happy.

Frankly, family man Stephen annoys me. Family man Stephen doesn’t like to do photoshoots. Family man Stephen posts family pics and not sexy selfies. Family man Stephen rocks hiatus pornstaches. Family man Stephen likes sweat pants and cardigans. Family man Stephen is as boring as my regular family man husband. Bruh, come on! I don’t want to objectify and drool over a regular man on TV like my husband. I’d like to objectify and drool over that sexy blue eyed godlike Adonis of a being that makes me want to lick the sweat off of him. So yeah, I find myself still screaming, “Yeah, that’s nice, but take your shirt off.”

Plus, single Stephen’s old interviews are hilariously open, uncensored and refreshing. Hearing Con comments when his family is present annoys me because he filters himself. And at the end of the day, I’m here for unfiltered Stephen all day every day and twice on Wednesday. Unfiltered Stephen makes me all tingly and reminds me that he’s a red blooded hot as hell MAN and a sexual being. That’s the Stephen I’d like to…..yeah.

LMAO! I love it! Because at the end of the day, his personal life can’t impact his professional choices and how he promotes things. Fans take things too far in every aspect of his personal life.

As a parent, it creeps me out when fans make memes and art of his daughter.

And you never hear about male fans on his page that use to post stuff like, “Damn she’s fine, you need to put a kid in that.”, when commenting on Emily.

It’s all very provocative and inappropriate, but it comes with the job.

Stephen is not some special godlike figure that’s going to escape that.

Does it frustrate me when I see fan manips on Stephen’s facebook page? Sure, because I hate manips and prefer the real thing. And it seems to make both Stephen and Emily skittish about posting pics together. But again, that reluctance also only fuels this speculation and behavior in fans.

But at the end of the day, it’s business. This trepidation has made Emily and Stephen pics a hot commodity. And that SELLS.

Most importantly, I just graduated my youngest from high school. I’m done raising my “kids”, so it’s not my job to parent fans over what they like.

I’ll still be sitting here as the lone wolf screaming….”Yeah, that’s cute, but take your shirt off.”

Because I simply don’t give a shit about actors families. No offense.