is it time in the states yet

gun-toting-greyshades  asked:

I knew a guy back when I was in highschool. He was a ww2 veteran sent over to Japan and china to photograph war crimes. And he still had a lot of the photos. Frankly the Japanese 1 upped the Germans in anything they were accused of. Gas is a cake walk compared to japs tying a livr infant to a board and using it as bayonet Practice

Yeah they were pretty fucked up dude. I mean there is plenty of evidence to the public to show how evil these fuckers were, yet because of teh “Hall of Cost” they choose to overlook Japan in favor of Germany for “worse people ever”. I mean these people experimented with bio warfare on POWs, fucking Bataan, the whole Nanking thing, and yet not a peep from people. Sickens me. Also that dude being an Antifa faggot, you’d think the dumbshit would do some research and realize Japan was a fascist state at the time, but nah, being an extremeist Leftie means they don’t really enjoy using their brain and just let the media be their information instead of looking up facts on their own. 

This is Dλke March Chicago’s statement on what happened and I need to break this down, because my rage over this anti-Semitic dumpster fire of an event cannot be contained:

  1. “Sadly, our celebration of dyke, queer, and trans solidarity was partially overshadowed by our decision to ask three individuals carrying Israeli flags superimposed on rainbow flags to leave the rally.” The flags in question were not “Israeli flags super-imposed on rainbow flags.” They were Rainbow flags with Magen David on them. That is not the same. At all. Either these people are incredibly uneducated about basic symbology, and therefore have no business running an event like this, or they knew these were not Israeli flags per se, but felt uncomfortable with public Jewishness. 
  2. This decision was made after they repeatedly expressed support for Zionism during conversations with Chicago Dyke March Collective members.” Given that the flags were not Israeli flags, this second sentence can only imply that the organisers saw participants who were being openly, visibly Jewish and then immediately took it upon themselves to go up and quiz them about their beliefs on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in order to make sure that they were “the right kind of Jews,” before determining whether or not they could stay. Because they were not carrying Israeli flags, and were not commenting about the conflict, the only way they could “express repeated support for Zionism during [their] conversations” was if they were confronted about their politics on the grounds of merely being Jewish and asked to pass a loyalty test. Moreover, in the account from Ellie, the Persian Jewish woman whose statement I posted earlier, there was absolutely no discussion where she “proclaimed Zionist leanings.” In fact, she maintained that she was not in the least attempting to make a statement on Israel and was only there as a proud Queer Jew of Colour—yet they ejected her anyway because her Jewishness was “triggering.”
  3. We have since learned that at least one of these individuals is a regional director for A Wider Bridge, an organization with connections to the Israeli state.” So, again, they were totally unaware of her affiliation at the time of questioning. There was no indication that she worked with this organisation at the time. They are openly admitting this. They didn’t know this particular woman’s politics until they saw her Magen David and grilled her on her beliefs.
  4. “A Wider Bridge has been protested for provocative actions at other LGBTQ events and has been condemned by numerous organizations.” The labelling of this incident as a “provocation” is staggeringly insidious, as Jews have been accused of being evil provocateurs with ulterior motives for literally centuries. The implication is that Jews are evil puppet masters attempting to infiltrate and derail gentile communities, and the accusation has frequently been weaponised to either incite or excuse anti-Jewish violence. This has been true throughout the world over, from Germany to Iraq to Ethiopia, and now Chicago. It is a coded message branding Jews as perfidious and untrustworthy. “You can’t believe anything they say about what happened because they are known liars who will deceive you for their own gain in every way possible. Do not trust any Jew who has not submitted to you and proven themselves beyond any reasonable doubt.” 
  5. “The Chicago Dyke March Collective is explicitly not anti-Semitic.” Did you read your own statement, or…?
  6. “The Chicago Dyke March Collective supports the liberation of Palestine and all oppressed peoples everywhere.” *Except the Jews.
a bunch of rambling thoughts about satisfied
  • it starts with angelica surrounded by people, seemingly satisfied and content, and ends with her all by herself on stage, privately devastated and unsatisfied
  • it’s framed like an essay. intro & thesis, three body paragraphs, conclusion and restatement of the thesis, showing her intelligence
  • while analyzing alexander, even in a lovestruck daze, angelica notes that he’s penniless. this comes up again in reason one, yet is once again dismissed. his financial state doesn’t matter—eliza does.
  • in the sia cover, the aforementioned singer sings both “and i knooow” and “helpless”, signifying that once angelica realizes eliza’s feelings, she is helpless to do anything but acknowledge them
  • helpless is repeated by eliza, three times, one for each reason.
  • angelica notes both alexander and eliza’s eyes, but never her own, symbolically linking them 
  • angelica also mentions “the first time i saw her face / then i turn and see my sister’s face” once again connecting the two people she loves more than anything
  • “intelligent eyes” she notices his mind first, a link to schuyler sisters, “i’m looking for a mind at work”
  • angelica says “mind” rather than heart during “i know my sister like i know my own mind”, showing that this is both a rational and emotional decision; she is using her head and her heart to manage this sacrifice
  • angelica only says “heart” once in the whole song, with ‘set my heart aflame’
  • in the first verse: “i remember that night/i remember those/i remember that dreamlike” angelica uses remember three times, and never forget for alexander, drawing attention to the line that “i have never been the same”—alexander is breaking the pattern of angelica’s world
  • the fire symbolism throughout the song, in comparison to helpless which uses “drowning”. angelica “match” wits, aflame, etc. there is also electricity (ben franklin with the key and the kite), another flame-filled metaphor. 
  • angelica also links alexander to icarus in BURN, in this case, angelica is icarus (clothed in orange), destined to fall, and alexander is the sun. eliza (clothed in blue) is the sea, this metaphor established by helpless and then by satisfied
  • angelica’s reiteration of the wedding toast is a reminder that this is all replaying with her mind; much like “i realize three fundamental truths at the exact same time”, this is all happening within a matter of seconds, showing how fast her brain truly works
  • “he’d be mine” / “that boy is mine”
  • angelica reflects on his eyes right before the reintroduced wedding toast, reiterating the feature she once again first noticed about him
  • satisfied is in many ways a revelation on a scene we thought we previously understood. this is another callback to schuyler sisters with angelica “you want a revolution? i want a revelation!” and the other wedding-goers go “union / to the revolution” what happens next? a revelation 
  • “i just might regret that night for the rest of my days / i’ll never forget the first time i saw your face” regret and forget are the first half of this rhyming scheme, connecting the two. if angelica could forget her feelings for hamilton, she would not have to regret this night.
  • “i’m sure you don’t know what you mean” “you’re like me: i’m never satisfied” / “nice going angelica, he was right: you will never be satisfied” angelica now painfully, acutely, understands what he was saying
  • at least my dear eliza’s his wife / at least i keep his eyes in my life—rhyming scheme, in addition to showing that, even when it comes to consoling herself about losing alexander, eliza still comes first
  • he will never be satisfied. i will never be satsified. is one of the only times in the song alexander and angelica are directly compared the same way that eliza & alexander are on numerous connections. a callback to “you’re like me: i’m never satisfied”
Boredom Be Damned (Peter Parker x reader)

Originally posted by tomhollandisdaddy

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary:  Prompt #2: “You’re hot when you’re angry.”

All Peter wanted to do was get his homework done before adventuring into the night, but Y/N walks in and turns his study session into a flush session.

Requested: yes @myfriendmagislit

Warning: slight language

Here’s another request for #2! So excited to write this bc this user is the og:) hope you enjoY!!! This is also kinda long so oops lol and I HOPE YOU LIKE IT !!:-) @myfriendmagislit

MASTERLIST <———————-

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Were you supposed to be on your way to Peter’s right now? No. Did you tell Peter you were on your way to him right now? No.

You were bored as hell, it was as simple as that. You tried to entertain yourself in numerous ways, even attempting to do your pre-scheduled homework for tomorrow night. But that put your state of mind into greater boredom. So, you decided you would carry your bored, sorry ass all the way three blocks to Peter’s apartment. It’s not that you only did this when you were extremely bored, you did almost every day. It just turns out that today, Peter didn’t mention to you anything about working on homework or hanging out for the night. This surprised you to an extreme length, due to the fact you and Peter were stuck like glue all day, every day.

So, you being the nosy ass you were, you decided to investigate. Which worked out perfectly because you were bored as well! Of course your sneakiness did play a part in your feet carrying you to Peter’s that night, but it wasn’t only that. And it wasn’t just the boredom.

Maybe it was the pulsing excitement that ran through your veins every time Peter would run up to you with good news about his exciting double life. Or maybe it was the way your heart grew heavy in your chest when Peter’s lean, muscled body would sit closely next to you as you worked on homework, the heat radiating off his frame to hit yours. Or it might be just spending time with your best friend—correction, beautiful best friend, that caused your feelings to intensify as you got older. Maybe it was all of those things and more, that caused your mind to shift your boredom to Peter.

You admitted these intense feelings a while ago, your instinct immediately knowing your affection for the brown eyes, sweet smiling boy as soon as you laid your eyes on him ten years ago. Your friendship blossomed, consisting of ever lasting laughs and good times, it was what everyone dreamed of in a relationship.

The only problem was, the feeling was only one sided. To your dismay, they were extremely one sided. Your friends would constantly say otherwise, swearing that he looked at you the exact way you gazed at him, but you never saw it. You knew they were just trying to make you feel better. Especially due to the fact Liz Allen was someone who constantly popped up in conversations between you and Peter. This obviously made you feel instant loss and regret. But if Peter was happy, you were happy.

You slowly let your yearning thoughts of Peter vanish before arriving at Peter’s door. You sigh, grabbing the key underneath the mat Aunt May had told you about and open the door, the silence hitting you. You shut the door slowly, walking through the living room area, searching for Peter in the so far vacant house. As no sign of Peter approaches, you walk to his bedroom door, knowing that he’d be in there. Your knuckles hit lightly against the white door, shoving one hand  in your side jacket pocket and the other holding your thermos with water as you wait for the door to open.

You hear the jiggle of the door knob and and look up, seeing a wondrous sight that made your eyes look everywhere place in the world besides Peter’s eyes.

“Oh, hey! What are you doing here?” he questioned kindly, quirking his head to the side at your sudden appearance at his door. You tried to remember to breath as your eyes came in contact with a very shirtless, very ripped, and very hot Peter standing before you. Clutching your cup tightly,  your eyes lingered on his sculpted abs as your mouth stood agape at the sight before you.

Thank god for boredom. What would you without it?

“Y/N?” his voice quickly snapped your dirty thoughts of him out of your mind, disrupting everything good in this world. Y/E/C meets a playful brown as your mouth snaps shut, shaking your head vigorously as you leap out of a hazed state.

Almost breathlessly you rush out, “Oh! I-I was just really bored. Needed something to do,” you finish, shrugging your shoulders at your lousy interpretation of boredom.

He raised his eyebrows, opening the door farther for you to enter. You took note of his right muscle flexing at the stretch of his arm before he spoke, “Okay. Yeah, I’m just trying to get my homework done. Tony asked me to do something when I got done, and May’ll kill me if I leave without finishing it.”

You shook your head as a sign of understanding, noticing his seemingly stressed state as you sat down on his bed. He shut the door, turning towards you with his hands on his naked hips, “But yeah you can hang here, I’m just gonna finish the assignment for Algebra. You know how picky Ms. Roberts’ can be,” he chuckled lightly, smiling in your direction.

“Oh and those papers next to you are the chemistry homework, if you need to see it.“

You nodded, a close mouthed smile adorned your lips at his sweet gaze. He sighed before sitting down at his desk, continuing his work, leaving you there.

Is this a fucking joke? Is he seriously not going to put on a shirt? He’s never done this before! But, would you want him to? The view from here is fucking incredible. Boredom be damned.

Your eyes once again scaled his half naked body, but this time it was the back view you got to see. The lamp accompanied his brain in helping him finish his work, the remnants of the light shone on his back muscles. You felt your mouth open once again as you carved the muscles with your eyes, craving to run your fingers over every curve of his body. His bangin’ body was another added bonus to Peter Parker. His sweet smile, incredible personality, and extraordinary intelligence were the major factors that made you fall for him. But this, fuck. This was part of the premium package you didn’t know you had signed up for.

You dazedly watched his shoulder move with arm as he sketched the answer quickly on his paper, and sometimes bring his arm up and run his fingers through his ruffled brown locks. You suddenly remembered the drool dripping from the corner of your mouth, that had probably been there for minutes. You reached your arm up rapidly, attempting to wipe the drool silently and sneakily.

Well, that plan failed.

Because as soon as your hand hit the corner of your mouth, your elbow also hit your thermos, knocking it over and open, all over Peter’s chemistry homework that was lying next to you on his bed.

Fuck.

Eyes widened, your heart rate picked up as you made eye contact with the now soaking wet papers lying sloppily on his bed. A gasp emitted from your throat at the sight of the black ink spreading all over the drenched papers. ruining it even more. Well, your gasp awoke Peter from his intense gaze on his work to quickly looking behind him. His eyes grew at the sight of you directed to the now wet papers and thermos lying on top of them. Your mouth agape, you dared to look at Peter’s gaze hitting you like a brick wall.

He ran over to his ruined work, fingers picking up the wet paper, his gaze flashing from the homework to your guilty Y/E/C eyes staring deeply into his own, "Y/N WHAT THE HELL!”

You gaping lips barely stuttered out a response as you reached over and picked up the thermos, “P-Peter I’m so sorry! It was an accident I swear!” you rushed out, throwing the empty thermos to the ground before yanking the remaining papers off his bed and throwing them in the trash can next to you.

“Y/N THIS HOMEWORK TOOK ME FOREVER ARE YOU KIDDING ME. I WAS SO CLOSE TO BEING DONE! I CAN’T BELIEVE…”

Your eyes shut off instantly as Peter’s voice grew weak and strong at the same time, defeat yet anger taking over his demeanor. But, instead of listening to his rant about your previous actions, you watched his arms point from you to the papers, his bicep flexing every moment he stretched them. His eyebrows furrowed and raised at your gaze just staring at him like he’s speaking gibberish. But, you were noticing his arm and neck veins popping out at the stress in his voice and your insides turned gooey, his state turning you on a lot.

“… Mr. Stark needs me! He finally asked me to do something for once and I  was so ready! Now May won’t let me go! Jesus Y/N, could you of been a little more careful? You-”

Your mind shut off his anger towards you, clouding with scandalous thoughts you’ve never thought of before. This caused your thoughts and apparently brain to shut down as you interrupted his rant.

“You’re hot when you’re angry.”

Oh my god. Those words did not just come out of your mouth. What the fuck are you thinking?! Holy shit he thinks you’re some creep-

“W-What did you just say?” Peter questioned, chest slowly deflating from his previous state. You felt your cheeks sprout bright red as his figure inched closer to yours. Your brain finally wanted to work again, your eyes peeking up from staring intently at the floor after your previous comment. His nerves rose immediately, realizing your thoughts on him.

“W-What? I didn’t say-”

“Yes you did. What did you say?” now Peter’s soft brown eyes were gazing intently in yours, his own cheeks matched yours, both flushed and embarrassed. His heart raced at your sudden exposed feelings towards him, and he couldn’t of been happier.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, biting your lip in guilt as your eyebrows furrowed, “I really didn’t mean to say that. I meant to s-say t-that you were scary when you’re angry, not h-hot. Not that you aren’t hot when y-you’re angry, because you are, obviously I mean look at you! O-Oh my god, I’ll just shut up!” you hollered, an extremely nervous chuckle sprang from your throat, attempting to cover up your immense awkwardness.

Peter’s cheeks flushed even more as he heard it roll off your pretty lips once again, a smile played across his own. His eyes sparkled at your red cheeks staring at the floor. He stepped forward slightly, his head daringly leaned towards your ear, his own nervousness growing per second.

Your heart beat sped at his closeness as his lips brushed your tinted-pink ear, his hot breath whispering against your heated skin, “Maybe I should make you angry sometime.”

And you’re pretty sure you died right then and there.

Keeping ‘Ciel’ Alive

So now that the 2CT is true and it seems like our Ciel really took over his twin’s identity there’s the question why our Ciel even felt the need to do that. Since the real Ciel probably died in that cult the title as Earl and Watchdog should have rightfully been our Ciel’s. However, he chose to return as ‘Ciel Phantomhive’.

(I know this has been discussed a lot before but I wanted to collect my own thoughts for this; this is also in response to this ask.)

I’ve seen discussions about that where it’s argued that our Ciel may have been jealous of his brother since he had better health, was more extroverted and would have been Vincent’s successor one day. And while there may be some truth to that, I am still sure that the twins’ parents and family (Midfords, Madam Red,…) loved both children equally. Also, I believe the relationship between the twins was a good one. They seem to have been very close when they were younger and as identical twins they probably had an even deeper bond.

So I don’t think when our Ciel took over the twin’s identity he did it with the intention of gaining everything that was his twin’s only because of jealousy and evil intent. I believe there are more psychological reasons for our Ciel’s decision.

First of all, we have to consider the situation our Ciel was in at the moment he made that decision. He was a 10-year old boy who had experienced a month of terror in that cult after losing his parents and the life he used to know. And then he saw the last person he still hold on to, his twin who most likely was always the closest person to him, being killed brutally in front of his eyes.

Losing their co-twin, an identical one even more, is a traumatizing experience for every twin. And even under ‘normal’ circumstances (accident, disease,…) it’s not unusual that the survivor feels guilty for being alive.

Now in the situation where our Ciel’s twin ‘died’ it may be even the case that our Ciel isn’t completely innocent. Of course, the true culprits are still the cultists and the situation has to be considered but maybe something happened that made the cultists take the real Ciel instead of our Ciel, for example. Since it seems that the cultist have saved the twins for last they may have wanted to take the younger twin (our Ciel) first before using the Phantomhive heir as sacrifice. But it turned out differently, maybe because our Ciel somehow made the cultists mistake the twins’ identity.

Anyway, even if that’s not the case, the fact remains that the twin’s ‘death’ most likely triggered Sebastian’s appearance. Whether Sebastian really took the twin’s soul or if seeing the twin being stabbed caused Ciel to be able to summon a demon – because the twin died, our Ciel could survive with the help of Sebastian. And therefore it’s no wonder that our Ciel feels guilty as was clearly seen in that dream sequence during the Green Witch arc.

Our Ciel feels guilty for using his brother’s death to escape from his fate when making the contract with Sebastian.

In that vulnerable state during the Green Witch arc when all the feelings which he usually tries to hide from everyone surfaced he even admitted that he feels like he shouldn’t have been the one who survived.

So if he still feels that way three or now nearly four years afterwards he may have already felt like that when making the contract. He blamed himself for his twin’s death, maybe he was even hating himself for what happened. And by taking over his twin’s name and identity it may have been for him as if he would keep his twin alive while killing off his true identity which he hated.

And along with this train of thought, he probably also thought that everyone else would be happier if the real Ciel returned instead of himself (even if that’s not true). If he was hating himself for what happened how could he have thought that anyone else would be happy with him surviving?

So I guess even more than having it easier to become Earl and Watchdog, our Ciel felt guilty and thought it would have been better if he had died and if his brother had survived. And by taking his identity he believed it the best way of making this lie a reality.

It’s sad, really, that our Ciel would think so but I think this lie also helped him to cope with his guilt and made it possible for him to return to his life. As the person he once was he felt too weak and guilty but by pretending to be the one he thought should have survived that gave him strength and confidence. And once he had made that decision there was no turning back, even though each time he was called ‘Ciel’ and probably whenever he even looked in the mirror he must have been reminded of the truth. He built up his new life based on that lie, yet each time he was confronted with his past and the truth it triggered his guilt and his trauma (resulting in asthma attacks, sudden reactions and decisions or his terrified state in the Green Witch arc). Maybe that’s also another reason why he never let anyone around him too close – in fear they might discover the truth.

So now that the truth is out and the twin is back our Ciel must be shocked. The life he has built like a wall to protect himself from his guilt and hatred now crumbles down. Not only was he sure that the twin had died that day, it now also seems as if the twin wants to take revenge on our Ciel for what happened. Taking Lizzy, killing Agni, invading the manor… To the twin it must seem as if our Ciel stole everything from him and now he wants to take that back while hurting our Ciel. And since the reason for all this is that our Ciel took over his twin’s identity, our Ciel may blame himself again for everything. Only this time it may be more difficult to escape from that since everyone he could turn to is deeply involved in this matter and this time our Ciel has to deal with it as the person he truly is.

In a sense the return of the twin is not a revival of ‘Ciel Phantomhive’ since that person was always kept alive through our Ciel, but a revival of the person that our Ciel was before he claimed to be ‘Ciel’. 

Play Me // A Dylan O’Brien Smut

Relationship: Dylan O’Brien x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Daddy Kink, Oral (both), Spanking, Teasing, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Unprotected Sex, and Swearing.

Word Count: 4,915

Song: Despacito by Luis Fonsi Ft. Daddy Yankee and Justin Bieber

A/N: This is 100% because of the video that came out. The second I saw him playing the drums again, my mind immediately went to sin. I MEAN FUUUCK LOOK AT THIS GIF PEOPLE, HOW CAN IT NOT? Also, thanks to @stilinski-jpeg for keeping me sane throughout the writing process of this fic. Love you so much! 💖

In case you haven’t seen the video or you want to watch it again on loop if you’re like me. 

Fuck, I moaned internally as I watched him lick his plump lips in pure concentration, an immediate ache already rushing to my core just at the sight of Dylan’s sinful tongue.

His fingers were curled around the drumsticks and his muscles were flexed against his biceps with each movement he made as he played the drums in front of me. It took every piece of discipline I had in me to continue playing my saxophone and not toss it on the ground just to throw myself at him. Dylan had such an effect on me that I was constantly turned on whenever I was around him — and he doesn’t even have to do much to get me worked up. Just the way he is can get me easily horny alone.

It all started the night we first created this blues band. He was the drummer we recruited along with his friends Thomas and Dexter for strings and vocals. The three were undoubtedly talented and the perfect additions to our band, but Dylan… he was the perfect addition to my body. That first night the entire band partied to celebrate the arrivals and drinks were the main theme. One thing led to the other and, the next thing I knew, I was rushed into the nearest bathroom and being pushed up against the closed door. Dylan’s calloused hands gripping my leg and hitching it across his waist as he pounds into me mercilessly, fucking me so hard that I couldn’t walk the next day.

His eyes looked up at me for the slightest second and I could see the small smirk dangling from the corner of his lips, my breath hitching in my throat and disrupting my saxophone playing. Dylan noticed the way his smirk made me feel the need to press my thighs together and decided to play even dirtier by winking. I immediately moaned which came out as a strangled note from my instrument. The entire band looked at me with judgemental eyes at my horrid playing, but I was too busy focusing on Dylan chuckling lowly to himself.

“Alright!” I frustratedly shouted, surprising everyone in the studio. “Can we just please take a break from jamming right now? We’ve been at this for hours!”

Our vocalist shrugged carelessly and looked to his fellow bandmates, all shrugging as well before Tommy spoke up. “I guess we should. Maybe we can get something to eat?”

“Yes!” Dexter sat up from his stool, smacking his hands together. “Let’s go to that restaurant we had dinner at yesterday! They had the fucking best chicken fried rice.”

Everyone else agreed, each sharing the food they desperately wanted to eat there again. Well, all except for Dylan and I who were too busy staring at one another, lust burning our pupils to the point of no return. His eyes dipped for the slightest second to rake all over my body, gazing at the low-cut in my crop top before his eyes returned to mine with a cocky grin now invading his pink lips.

“You know, I think we should play our song one more time.” Dylan spoke up, his eyes never leaving me. My own narrowed, immediately understanding how much he still wanted to tease me. “To get it perfect before we officially record it.”

Again, everyone shrugged and agreed with his suggestion. Usually, I love how open they all are for anything but not today, not when I desperately want to feel Dylan’s dick twitching inside of me again as it quickly rubs against my tight walls.

“No, I think we should eat.” I counterparted, pulling the strap of the saxophone off my neck and placing the instrument in its case. “We need the break.”

“Maybe you need the break, kitten.” He raised an eyebrow tauntingly. “I mean, you do seem tense. What’s gotten you all worked up?”

The glare I gave him was nothing short of intense and full of raging fire. He and I both knew what he was doing, especially since he used that damn nickname that did inexplicable things to me. The entire band’s eyes were fixed on me and Dylan used the opportunity to run his fingers over his scruff as he winked yet again, fully aware of his power against me.

Fine then, two can play at this game.

“Having to constantly blow.” I retorted and it was my turn to smirk when his eyes widened. “The instrument, I mean.”

“Well I think you blow just perfectly.”

I was certainly glad that everyone else in the room was terrible at picking up on our innuendos and the incredibly strong sexual tension between Dylan and I. We haven’t exactly told anyone about us yet — mainly because we don’t even know if there is an us. We’ve been hooking up whenever it was convenient but with Dylan’s crazy schedule, it’s been pretty hard to maintain a physical relationship let alone possibly start an emotional one.

“Just one more?” Dylan teased and my mind immediately went to all of the times I begged him to quit pleasuring me when I was already so overstimulated, but he just kept going at it. “And then, I’ll- we’ll stop.”

“Just. One. More.” I stated through clenched teeth.

Picking up my instrument again, Dylan’s eyes were hooked on me as I licked my lips and wrapped them around the tip of my saxophone. The rest of the band members prepared themselves again and Dylan tapped his drumsticks three times to indicate the starting tempo. As soon as he was finished, we were all off and the song started playing beautifully. Despite not missing and mistaking a single note, Dylan and I focused on each other instead of our instruments. The walls of the studio were shaking at how loudly he was playing, each bang vibrating through the floor and into my body. It only made the aching in my core grow even more uncomfortable as it vibrated my cunt, forcing me to hold back any moan I wanted to release.

I watched as his head nodded along with the rhythm he created, his knees bouncing up and down as his feet continuously slammed on the bass pedal to carry the entire beat of the song. I hated to admit it, but our music would be nothing without Dylan’s talented drum skills. He was undoubtedly enjoying himself, the melody completing taking over his body… except for the eyes boring into mine that is.

Fuck, it should be illegal to look that fucking good playing the drums.

I thanked the Lord when the song was finally over and I managed to play every single note without letting Dylan distract me, despite almost falling prey to him many times. He put the drumsticks down on the floor and picked up the green bottle of beer from it instead, his lips pouting as he took a long sip. I was practically drooling at the sight of his adam’s apple moving up and down as he swallowed the bitter liquid. Everyone else, including me, put their instruments away for the time being.

“Time for grub!” Dexter celebrated and the entire room boomed with laughter at his excitement for food. Normally, I would be right there with him but at this moment all I could truly focus on were the way Dylan’s eyes were calling me.

“You guys go ahead.” Dylan stated, standing up. “I think I’d rather eat Chipotle.”

“You sure?” Tommy asked, everybody already at the door. “You should come eat with us so you’re not alone.”

“He won’t be alone. I’ll go with him.” I spoke up, clearing my throat. “Gotta have those delicious chicken cutlets.”

“Suit yourselves.” He shrugged, guiding everyone out of the studio and closing its door behind them.

It was as if the second that door sealed shut, every bit of sexual tension we were trying to keep to ourselves was released out into the air. Just the thought of what was undeniably about to happen next made my pulse accelerate, my heart pounding against my chest. I wasn’t the only one effected as I watched Dylan take slow steps towards me as if I were a magnet pulling him in closer and closer. He was practically undressing me with his eyes and usually I would blush at such a forward act, but now right now. Right now, all I want him to do is give into the lustful things his eyes are telling me.

“So,” I broke the silence, my breath unstable as he finally reached me and placed his hand on the small of my back. His lips brushing against my neck, making goosebumps cover my skin. “How about we go eat take out?”

“No, kitten.” He whispered, my body shivering at the feeling of his lips touching my ear. “I’d rather eat you out, instead.”

Dylan’s mouth immediately moved to mine and he crashed his lips against my own. I couldn’t help but moan into our sudden kiss, throwing my arms around his neck. His skillful lips meshed with mine in such a fiery and passionate pace, he almost made me lose my balance. My hands didn’t just remain on his neck as he successfully seduces me, but ventured over his back and explored the amazing feeling of his flexed muscles pressed against my palm. Our breaths mingled before Dylan licked my bottom lip with his tongue and I instinctively opened it for his tongue to have its very welcome entrance. I could taste the alcohol in his mouth along with the mint from his toothpaste and all of my senses were heightened, begging for more of him.

I broke the kiss, but he chose to continue teasing me as his lips moved to my jaw then my neck. Not even bothering to hide the fact that he was currently creating a purple bruise on my skin with his smooth assaults. My fingers gripped onto his back, my nails digging into our band’s t-shirt. He chuckled on my neck and I instantly whimpered at the resonance.

“Please, I have been unbelievably horny since the moment you walked through that door today.” I moaned. “Just fucking do something already.”

“Patience, kitten.” Dylan retorted, his fingers moving to the hem of my high-waisted skirt just to tease me. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Not when their friends will be back soon.” I mewled.

“Honestly, they could walk in on us fucking and I wouldn’t even stop.” Dylan nibbled on my ear. “Now, kitten, tell me all of the things you want my mouth to do to you. Teach me your favorite places.”

“You already know my favorite places, Dylan.” I responded and definitely didn’t miss the cocky grin he played on my skin.

“Just because of that impeccable response I’ll give you want you want, babygirl.” He whispered huskily before moving his hands to the back of my knees and lifting me up.

This time I was the one who started the desperate kiss as he walked forwards, my back suddenly hitting the wall behind me. I lost my rhythm with his lips and failed to remain the dominant one when his hands massaged the back of my thighs, sparking more desire throughout my entire body. Just as I was about to try and get my power back, Dylan unexpectedly broke our kiss. Our panting breaths hitting each other’s faces before he started to push me up. I looked at him with wide eyes, but allowed him to do whatever it is he’s planning to do. The next thing I know, I’m so high up that he wraps my legs around his neck.

With my legs dangling over his shoulders, Dylan moved one of his hands to my inner thigh and purposely drummed his fingers on my skin before reached the area closest to my core. I bucked my hips for him to do more and, to my surprise, he actually did. Dylan suddenly ripped apart the thong I wore and felt no remorse towards ruining something I owned, and, honestly, neither did I. I was so glad there finally wasn’t anything keeping him from touching me anymore that I didn’t even bother to think about the consequences.

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding about how horny you are.” Dylan chuckled, certainly staring at the arousal covering my cunt. My hips twitched the second his finger swiped through my slick folds and a shameless moan fell from my lips when he licked his wet finger with his tempting tongue. “God, kitten, you always taste so damn good.”

“P-Please.” I begged.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” Dylan smirked, nibbling my outer lips. “I know that I’m a drummer and I’m good with my hands, but damn kitten.”

“And I’m a saxophone player, I’m very good with my mouth.” I retorted, raking my fingers through his dark strands. “Which I’ll gladly use on you if you just give me what I want.”

“Well, you certainly have a way with words, babygirl.” He stated before finally doing what I wanted him to by swiping his tongue up my core, my vocal chords releasing the most animalistic moan the second the tip of his tongue touched my clitoris. “Damn, you sing the second I touch you.” He chuckled. “Kinda like playing the piano.”

“Then, play me.”

The last thing I saw was Dylan’s pupils dilate just before he dipped his head under the fabric of my skirt along with his hand and began his mind-boggling pleasure on my core. His tongue created fast and steady circles on my sensitive nub, immediate pleasure striking through my veins. However, my body buzzed intensely the moment he pushed a finger into my soaking heat and pumped it repeatedly. My eyes instantly shut tight and chose to only focus on the feelings he was creating inside of me.

I squirmed and my hips bucked involuntarily, my own fingers clutching onto his hair. He grunted at the harsh feeling and my lungs immediately gasped when the vibration of his voice rippled through my core and initiated the build up now invading me. I could feel my nipples hardening against the cheap fabric of my bra and I desperately wanted to pinch them in between my fingers — which is exactly what I did after I let go of him to rip apart my blouse along with my laced bra. Dylan couldn’t exactly see what I had just done, but he definitely put two and two together at the sound of the tearing fabric and didn’t hold back his moan. Letting what remained of my shirt and bra fall to the ground and playing with my nipples in my fingers, I felt as Dylan added another one of his in me. He increased the pressure and the pace, giving more power to my build up.

“F-Fuck, baby.” I moaned audaciously. “Just like that.”

He followed my request and continued moving his two fingers in my tight cunt rapidly, but his lips however wrapped around my clit. His tongue still licked and played with it as well, but now he had added his sinful mouth to the mix. My sensitive nub enjoyed the attention it was getting from Dylan, flashing pure thrill and bliss straight to my build up.

Carefully hearing out how responsive I was being, Dylan decided to do more when he knew I was ready for it. He scissored his two fingers inside of me and I screamed, my body already shaking with its arriving orgasm. Dylan’s addictive movements in my cunt only stopped right when he knew I was going to cum and curled the tips of his fingers against my walls instead, the perfect amount of pressure I needed to fall into my release.

I didn’t expect Dylan to stop as I came, but I certainly did expect him to when I finished. However, he did not halt his actions at all. In fact, Dylan only increased them. His hand removed itself from my core and returned its post on my thigh along with the other one. He pulled back from the wall and my own hands immediately flew to his hair for stability, but I didn’t make it in time. Although his grip on my thighs were incredibly strong enough and wouldn’t let me completely fall, I couldn’t help but squeal when the top half of my body dropped down, by back now resting on his legs.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get more intense, Dylan slipped his tongue into my cunt and I urgently wrapped my arms around the back of his knees. The new position enhanced everything he was doing to me, expanding my pleasure by one-hundred percent. I whimpered and mewled at Dylan’s invasive touch, considering how overstimulated I was. But, he didn’t stop his attempt at giving me more than one consecutive orgasm.

His tongue was deep in me, constantly brushing my g-spot, and he licked around my walls, definitely enjoying my taste by the way he moaned continuously along with me. My back arched and my legs shook again at the feeling of his tongue literally fucking me just as Dylan’s thumb applied unbelievable pressure on my incredibly swollen clitoris. Not only making me reach my orgasm and cum, but literally fucking gush. My immense arousal squirted out of my cunt, certainly soaking his entire face.

This time Dylan did stop, but only when he deemed ready. My core was throbbing intensely as he walked us over to his drumming bench and asked me to place my hands on them for him to pull my legs off of his shoulders and carefully settle them on the floor without the risk of hurting me nor letting me fall. Once he laid my legs on the ground, my butt involuntarily sitting down too, I watched with hooded eyes as he pulled his shirt off his body and used it wipe his face clean.

“Take your skirt off, kitten.” He commanded, unbuttoning his khakis and letting them drop to the floor.

“Yes, daddy.” I bit down on my lip, enjoying the view of him momentarily losing his shit at the nickname just as he stepped out of his pants pooling at his feet.

“Daddy, huh? Just when I thought you couldn’t get any sexier…” He smirked, taking taunting steps towards me. “Now, why don’t you kneel here in front of daddy?”

I didn’t say anything, I just changed my position to settle on my hands and knees and slowly crawled in his direction. The feeling of my skin scraping against the rug burned, but I chose to ignore it. I could see the huge bulge in his grey boxer-briefs create a wet stain with his increasing precum at how the sight turned him on beyond compare and it boosted me to sway my hips more, my confidence growing. Dylan’s hand moved down to his crotch and he slowly palmed himself over the fabric before becoming impatient and pulling down his boxers just enough to start touching himself. Immediate heat and lust rushed back to my core at the way he pumped his own dick, my mouth drooling at his actions.

Once I reached him, I placed my hands on his bare thighs to steady myself as I settled just on my knees, the rug digging into my skin. Our eyes were locked together, my mouth inching closer to his shaft. He didn’t stop masterbating even when I took his tip into my mouth and sucked profusely, his throat making its own strangled noises. My tongue licked the precum off of his slit and Dylan’s hips bucked, involuntarily​ pushing a little more of him inside my mouth. I swatted his hand away and he let both of his hands run through my hair as I took in as much of his cock as I could. Dylan gathered my hair together in a temporary ponytail and whilst my mouth bobbed his dick rapidly, my tongue would constantly graze against his prominent vein on the underside of his member.

“Shit, kitten.” Dylan moaned, bucking his hips faster. “Your talented lips feel so fucking good around my cock. Thank God you’re so invested in playing the saxophone.”

I moaned around his staff and he immediately growled at the intense vibration, his hand gripping tighter in my hair. Impatient with letting me be in control, Dylan pulled my hair back roughly, my head going along with it. Then he, suddenly, pushed my head right back to take him in again deeply — so deeply that his swollen tip lodged in the back of my throat. Dylan created this new pace where he would pull my hair to guide his dick in and out along with his thrusts. The stinging pain on my scalp from his harsh pulling did not overpower the lust inside of me and I willingly allowed Dylan to use my mouth as a damn fucktoy.

“Fuck me, babygirl.” He grunted before unexpectedly pulling me back and not letting me take him in my mouth anymore.

Suddenly, Dylan tore my grip away from his thighs and let my hair go. He took a step back, my palms immediately landing flat out on the floor to keep from falling. The strands of my hair swayed to the front of my face as he stepped out of his boxers and walked behind me. I heard him fall to his own knees and, without any warning, a loud sound of Dylan’s palm slapping against my skin echoed in the room along with the sound of my scream at the stinging pain of just getting spanked.

“God, I fucking love your ass.” Dylan confessed, sinking his teeth into my cheeks and letting go right after another scream escaped my lips.

“Jesus Christ, Dylan.” I grunted, already out of breath. “Just stop teasing and shove your dick inside of me already.”

“Did you just call me Dylan?” He tisked and I could picture him shaking his head. “You know that’s not what I want, babygirl. Which means I won’t give you want you want.”

“N-No, I’m sorry!” I whined. “Daddy, please.”

Dylan surprised me when he pushed just his tip inside of me, my core pulsing around him. However, he stopped teasingly and it drove me absolutely crazy. I tried bucking my hips back, but Dylan just grabbed my waist roughly and halted my attempts.

“Come on, daddy.” I whimpered at the feeling of his dick throbbing. “Just fuck me.”

“Like this?” Dylan asked, slowly pushing in until he was buried to the hilt before pulling back out at the same agonizing pace. He did this a few times and my body begged for more, not able to withstand the slow rate.

“Faster.” I begged impatiently. “You know how I like it rough.”

Dylan moaned at my commands, but continued his vehement torture anyway and I wasn’t having anymore of it. Bringing my hands back, I ripped Dylan’s off my waist and he almost lost his balance at my sudden movement. Pulling his dick out of me, I pushed him to lie down on the rug and threw my legs over his hips to straddle him. Both of my knees settled on the rug and Dylan’s eyes widened at me before they narrowed with a growing smirk.

“Damn-” He began to speak, but my finger flew to his lips and stopped him from continuing his sentence. His eyebrows quirked in curiosity and I simply gave him the most smug grin I could put together.

“I’m in charge now.”

Dylan’s dick twitched in between my thighs at my new confidence and his hands flew to my hips, allowing me to do whatever I damn pleased. I grabbed his shaft before positioning it at my entrance and sitting down on him until I felt his balls on my ass. His head instantly fell back to the ground, his eyes shutting tight. Thanks to how fucking wet I was from just having two orgasms (and counting), it wasn’t hard to glide him in and out of me. Both of our throats erupting into uncontrollable moans and neither one of us had the intention to stop.

My hands were splattered out on his chest, my nails raking down his skin and digging into it as his own fingers gripped my hips tightly to help guide me. I bounced up and down on his cock, the wet sound of skin meeting every time my cheeks came into contact with his balls. Dylan growled lowly whenever my nails created stinging shapes in his flesh. My build up returned stronger than ever, already licking at my veins. Dylan could sense how close I was from how I tightened around his shaft and his eyes opened, a sense of mischief pooling in them.

One of his hands made its way to our repeatedly connecting bodies and everything inside of me jerked the moment his fingers applied rough pleasure on my clit. A flash of heat spread through my body as I screamed, not able to hide how much I loved his addictive advances. However, it was when Dylan sat up and not only changed the angle but pushed me back a little so he could attach his mouth onto my breast that the build up won. My arms wrapped around his neck to keep some sort of balance as my body violently shook with its intense orgasm. I continued to bounce on his dick and Dylan grunted loudly when I clenched around it. His teeth bit my nipple harshly and I screamed, all of my senses dancing on the surface of my skin.

Even as my body fell limp and stopped moving, Dylan didn’t. His hand on my hips wrapped around my waist and elevated my body slightly before thrusting up into me. At this point, I couldn’t even control the overwhelming amount of screams falling from my lips along with his name.

“That’s right, kitten.” He managed to say through moans. “Scream my name and forget every other name that exists. I’m the only one that can fuck you like this.”

I felt that same flash of heat again, followed by another and another as he continued to thrust up into my g-spot, his cock rubbing so fucking deliciously against my tight walls that it made me want to cry. No crashing waves and no build up, this time a violent pleasure tore through me. A whiplash of ecstasy snapping at my clit and spreading everywhere. Dense streams of cum slithered down my legs and I noticed as it soaked him, dripping down his cock, covering his balls and pooling over his thighs.

His fingers changed its pace on my overly sensitive nub and I crashed again, falling deep into the abyss of euphoria. Each climax was unique and when the final one was drawn out of me, I actually cried — like literally. My tears rolled down my flushed cheeks. My lungs hurt at the lack of air. My throat was dry from screaming too much. My lips were raw from the insane amount of kissing and biting down on them. And every joint in my body ached.

When he noticed I couldn’t handle anymore, Dylan pulled himself out and laid me down on the floor. I was completely out of breath and unable to move my body, but I still watched with hooded eyes as he crawled over me. Each of his knees settling beside my shoulders, his hands moving down to my head and grabbing my hair.

“Do you wanna taste daddy’s cum, kitten?” He teased and I immediately nodded. “I’m gonna need you to say it.”

“Yes, daddy.” I spoke up, my hands holding onto the back of his knees. “Fuck my mouth.”

That’s all the incentive he needed to shove his dick into my mouth and I gladly welcomed it back. Dylan used his hand on my head in synch with his thrusts to control how deep he wants to go. Because he was already so close to his edge from constantly feeling my cunt tighten around him, Dylan was already falling off of it in a matter of seconds. It only took a few thrusts and my mouth hollowing out as my tongue constantly licked his sensitive tip. Dylan’s hot release immediately shot out of his slit and landed on my palate, the delicious salty taste of his cum making me moan.

“God, no one can give a blowjob like you, babygirl.” Dylan whispered huskily, laying back down on the floor beside me.

The sexual tension in the air eased down and was replaced with pure bliss, both of our chests rising and falling with heavy breaths. All of a sudden, Dylan turned around and nudged his face amongst my shoulders. Goosebumps making its ways on my skin at the feeling of his hot breath against my neck as he wrapped a lazy arm around my waist.

“What'cha doing there, Dyl?” I asked curiously.

“Breathing in your neck because you always smell so good.” He shrugged.

“Well, I’m just gonna pretend that’s not a weird thing to say.” I chuckled and he laughed with me.

“Sorry.” He smiled, placing a chaste kiss on my skin. “Would you rather I whisper things into your ear so you remember them when you’re not with me?”

“Hmm, that would be nice.” I smiled before it turned into a grin. “But, I’d rather go eat that take out.”

Bygones of the Sun | 04 (M)

Originally posted by hobismole

Genre: Angst/fluff/(future)smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

Pairing: Reader x Hoseok

Length: 4.8k

Summary: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05

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Soulmate AU (Peter Parker x reader)

Originally posted by koenigreus

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader 

Summary: Soulmate AU. Y/N has been patiently waiting for years to find her soulmate. Turns out, they’re a lot closer than she could ever imagine.

Warnings: some cussing

Requested: no

SEND ME REQUESTS!!

I’m writing a part two to this so stay tuned!! :) hope u all like!
____________________________
   
Black and white have always been a permanent part of your life. Only ever seeing black and white meant no love, no soulmate. Every where you turned, your eyes followed the two colors like clockwork, that being the only things you can vision. Red, blue, green, yellow, etc; were all unbeknownst colors to you. Not even facades of memory. They were just nonexistent, in your eyes. To numerous others, they were pops of happiness in everything and every day life. But that’s only because of one thing.

Coming in contact with your soulmate.

It was odd, of course it was. You could go most of your life being around them and not knowing that they’re the one for years. You had to touch for it activate the color in your life and to find your meaningful person. Once you found your soulmate, your world vanished of the standard black and white tones of the sky and objects surrounding your being, to bright, vivid colors popping out at you from every angle of your sight. The first color to be pronounced once found, is the color of your soulmates eyes. That’s the first time you ever see what the true color of your other being is like.

But, you didn’t know what that felt like. You were sixteen years old and yes it may sound young, but the average age to find your soulmate is fourteen. By the age of thirty, if you hadn’t found your soulmate, you were given a grant and told where they were, so you could meet. Most of your friends had found theirs already, having a happy life with their significant other.

You envied their sweet relationships and ability to see the good in people and the real in everything around them. You had no clue as to what your coloring on your own body was, let alone anyone else’s. Your parents had told you that your eyes were a bright Y/E/C, whatever that color looked like, and your hair was a soft Y/H/C that glistened in the sun. But, you couldn’t bring yourself to believe their nice compliments, due to the fact you couldn’t trust the society around without seeing it truthfully.

That is, until one day in Chemistry.

It was a Monday afternoon, your eyelids drooped as you made your way into 6th period, setting your backpack down next to the lab table. Setting your head down on your folded arms, your groggy state almost swept you completely over until your lab partner, Peter snapped you out of it.

“H-hey Y/N, sorry I was almost late.”

You snapped your head up at the sound of the scratchy, sweet voice you loved so much, “O-Oh, hey Peter,” you slightly smiled, cheeks flushing in embarrassment at the possibility of your crush seeing you all droopy eyes and drool trailing out of your mouth. His lips curled into a sweet smile at your state and chuckled a little by the look on your face.

Oh my god, could you try and look any less attractive around the most beautiful boy in the world? Snap out of it!

He reached for his backpack and pulled out his notebook, opening it up to yesterday’s previous lab, “Hard night?” he questioned, turning towards you.

You sat up on the lab stool, scooting it closer to your table as you attempted a small smile in the direction of him, “I guess you could say Calculus ruined me last night,” you chuckled, opening up your own notebook as you started the continuation of the lab, “But the test was a breeze, so you’ll be fine,” you waved your hand in ease at the intelligent boy next to you with a slight tinge to your cheeks.

His lips pursed in a close mouthed smile in your direction as you began continue the lab from yesterday, both of you having butterflies roll around in your stomach for the duration of the period.

“Okay class, everyone pick up Solution #2 and pour it into the flask when you have completed Task #3,” your teacher echoed through your ears as you scribble down the solution’s change of state in Task #2.

“Don’t forget” your teacher interrupted once more, “if you are able to see the change of color from Task #1 to Task #2 please write that down, and if not just leave if blank.”

You felt a heavy sigh echo from your mouth as you skipped past the “Color Change” section in your notebook. You grabbed the second solution and set in the holder before your mind wandered with a certain thought.

Did Peter know the color change in the solution? Which would mean he had found his soulmate. Did he have a soulmate?

The next thing you know, you’re leaning closer to his side of the table, attempting to peek at his notes for the lab. You stretched your neck, the chair almost tipping sideways so you could be able to look.

Task #3
Change of State: solid to liquid
Change of Color:

Instantly you felt your heart flutter and your stomach knot as such a little thing as a blank space could change your entire outlook on that Monday afternoon. He didn’t have a soulmate. Well, he hadn’t found his soulmate yet. The idea caused your cheeks to flush at the thought of having Peter that close to you.

You would finally be able to vision the color of his seemingly soft, lightly curled hair that fell in front of his forehead at times of immediate concentration. Or the true element of his loose and nice fitting sweaters he wore almost each and every day.

The color of his small lips that curl in a small smile every time it seems you embarrass yourself, fumbling over your words while talking in front of him every day in 6th period. To be able to see the light in the color of his eyes pop out at you when his chest rises and falls with every laugh or slight chuckle he lets out when either of you make a stupid joke, both your faces looking down in clumsiness and flushed looks.

If only you could meet his eyes with yours and at that very moment, his gorgeous sparkle would invite you to be apart of him and his love for both of you. You couldn’t even imagine how beautiful his entire being would be with the entire color spectrum spread without his-

All of the sudden you felt a spark like feeling zap from your fingertips. It climbed all the way up your arms, through your veins and lightly touched your toes. Your mind clouded with wandering thoughts and confusion as your head whipped in the direction of the feeling.

Glistening Y/E/C met a sparkling, captivating bright brown and your world turned vividly wonderful.

anonymous asked:

So, because there hasn’t been a super hero movie with a female star in a long time, they want to segregate men? Yep, that’ll show them! Make it so you get half the money you typically would. Sexist logic. And yet, if the rolls were reversed and theaters stated they were refusing to sell tickets to women for movies like John Wick so that men could have a "Men's Only Showing", then hardware stores would have all their pitchforks and torches bought up in an instant. But please, give us your excuses

You can go to, like, literally any other showing. 

Does it suck having to share your toys with girls now? Yes? Well, let me say sincerely, LOL. 

some connor lives murphy family headcanons

because i love my boy

  • Reads like he’ll never see another book in his life. He consumes every book around him. He goes to the library and takes one book from every section just so he’ll have a Balanced Education.
  • He especially likes biographies, and he’s read Stephen King’s “On Writing” at least 20 times.
  • Once he starts attending therapy/taking proper medication and he’s more Mellow (less outbursts/paranoia) he starts drawing again
  • -His art is usually kind of dark and abstract but one day he starts sketching a hyper-realistic portrait of Zoe and he finds out that he’s,,,,really good at it???
  • He gives Zoe the drawing in hopes of making things a little better between them. He just wants to show her that he still notices her and that he’s ready to be a big brother again.
  • Connor just slides it under her door and he’s So Anxious until he gets a text from her a few hours later asking if he wants to talk.
  • So they do!!!!!!!! And not everything is perfect but they both cry and Zoe tells him he’s a dick and Connor says he knows that he is.
  • They still argue, and they still piss each other off, but in a much more Sibling way.
  • I would like to think he would start teaching some sort of art class? Painting or drawing or something. Probably for like…Middle schoolers because I doubt he’d be able to handle kids.
  • His meds make him Really Tired so any little bit of social interaction is Enough for the day.
  • Like if he goes to school or teaches a class he will lock himself in his room for the rest of the day to read or draw and smoke and sleep.
  • Like I said, it’s not all better yet, but he’s improving.
  • Doesn’t talk to Larry much at all.
  • But he does start to confide in Cynthia (enough to tell her what he needs in a given situation. For example, “I’m really frustrated right now I need a break”) and she understands.
  • For Zoe’s birthday he bakes a cake and draws a little flower in incing on the top. She almost cries since it’s the first time he’s done anything for her birthday since they were little kids.
  • He applies for Penn State and gets in!!! The summer after senior year (when he’s sure he won’t be living at home anymore) he comes out to everyone.
  • Larry doesn’t say anything, Cynthia and Zoe hug him and it’s Good.
  • He majors in art history!!!! 
  • The good happy ending that we all deserved.
  • The end.

coffee in the morning ;

“I could do that,” he states a minute later, and he nods his heads a few times as if it’s some sort of confirmation as he mulls it over, and you look at him like you’re confused.

“Do what?” You question, and he blinks at you.

“Be your boyfriend,” he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and it makes your heart beat a bit faster.

“You mean fake boyfriend.”

or

Harry and Y/N work at a coffee shop and he’s never been a good actor

12k+, fluff, smut, ripping of panties mid-fuck, and just a dash of angst

OKAAAY SO, i’ve been dead around here because i’ve been working on this for a few days now! special shoutout to @mermaidsonships for letting me yell about apple (that’s what we named the girlie in this amongst our texts) and harry as well as bounce ideas off of u! i love u sister! i’ve got a fixation of fake bf harry + harry being rly teasing so if u combine those 2 things u get this big mess of a thing! i hope u enjoy!

Keep reading

ask me about my summer!

☀️ - favorite thing to do on a sunny day?
🌧 - favorite thing to do on a rainy day?
🚙 - do i plan on vacationing?
🚴🏼 - any summer workout goals?
⚽️ - am i playing any summer sports?
🏖 - have i been/am i going to the beach?
🌌 - do i plan on stargazing a lot?
✨ - any summer traditions?
✈️ - am i going to travel to another state, country, etc.?
👔 - am i working over the summer?
🛌 - what time do i usually fall asleep/wake up?
🎸 - do i plan on learning an instrument?
🎬 - any movies i’m excited to see?
🎧 - what’s my go-to summer playlist?
🎮 - favorite video games i like to play?
📱 - something i can’t live without during the summer?
🎨 - do i plan on learning a new skill?
🎟 - am i going to any special events?
👕 - favorite summer fashion?
💇 - do i plan on getting a summer hairstyle?
🕶 - have i gotten a sunburn yet?
🍎 - favorite summertime snack?
🌴 - do i like to spend a lot of time outside?
📔 - any books i plan on reading?
💤 - do i plan on sleeping a lot?
🌺 - things that remind me of summer?
⭐️ - what am i most excited for this summer?

When Tamir Rice was murdered dickheads come to in droves to defend the actions of the officer. But when John Crawford III or Darrien Hunt were killed for toys in open carry states, despite threatening no one, I saw no one come to their defense

Trayvon Martin was murdered for defending himself & yet I clearly remember conservatives celebrating his attacker and murderer.

Today, Philando Castile’s murderer walks free and all I see is silence. So much of the “self defense community” and many 2nd admendment advocates have proven themselves time and time again to be a bunch of poseurs, cowards, bigots and perhaps worst of all hypocrites.

My Top 5 Reasons for Shipping Root and Shaw

#ShootWeek Day 6 

(Previously: Top 5 Root Moments/Top 5 Shaw Moments)

In no particular order: 

1. They have sizzling chemistry.  

Root and Shaw were never meant to happen, but the writers immediately noticed the chemistry between Amy and Sarah and decided to play into it. They organically crafted a slow-burn romance just for them, and it became integral to the main plot as well. 

2. Root and Shaw are fully realized, complex individuals.

It’s all too easy for shows to fall into the trap of reducing characters to love interests. POI, by contrast, never does that. Root and Shaw’s relationship is an important part of their characters but it’s not all there is to them. They are both highly competent women with other important dynamics too. Root is also a prophet and spearheads POI’s AI mytharc. Shaw is also a soldier and is constantly involved in saving numbers. They are both neurodivergent, and Root has a disability. Shaw is Persian, and POI honours her heritage on multiple occasions. There are so many facets to each of these women. Their relationship is the icing on the cake, giving them an added layer of depth.

3. Root and Shaw are the fundamental exceptions to each other’s rules/beliefs.

Root begins as a misanthrope who regards humans as “bad code.” With the Machine’s help, her view of humanity changes, and she begins to fall for Shaw. Society has continuously scorned Shaw, dismissing her as bad code because of her muted feelings; yet, she’s always chosen to try to protect people. She was a doctor, then a soldier then an ISA operative who killed terrorists. She goes through extensive lengths to protect Root and the team (e.g. biking across the state to save Root in 323, killing herself 7053 times in simulations rather than risking Root’s life). Shaw is a shining example to Root of good code. 

Shaw, meanwhile, insists several times that she doesn’t do relationships; however, she slowly but surely enters one with Root. Root respects Shaw’s boundaries and never asks more of Shaw than she can give. She’s content with the bare minimum – look at how her countenance brightened at the mere possibility of her and Shaw being together in 411: 

Root doesn’t demand that Shaw change, but Shaw still does in that she becomes more receptive to Root’s flirtations. Innuendo that would earn Root a characteristic “Shaw eyeroll” and an exaggerated huff in early seasons is now met with a grin in 510. Shaw might recoil at the idea of holding hands with Root in seasons 3 or 4, but she readily laces their fingers together in 510.

It’s endearing to me that these two lethal vigilantes who have tased/shot each other in the past are now so soft with each other.

4. Their love is unconditional and steadfast. 

Root and Shaw’s relationship is the only one on the show that fits the Machine’s definition of love: being seen. I’d like to draw a contrast between two instances of hand-holding (or “hand-holding” for the first one): 

This relationship begins with deception as Root tricks Shaw by pretending to be Veronica Sinclair and drags her to the chair to torture her. But then in 510, we are presented with a rare moment of openness, honesty and vulnerability between these two as they hold hands. Root is not hiding behind any identities here. She’s just Root. She’s telling Shaw with this gesture that she needs her, and Shaw reciprocates.  

We see perhaps the most blatant declaration of unconditional, unwavering love in 513. Root has always loved Shaw for exactly who she is – an arrow. While other people in Shaw’s life, such as the head of Shaw’s medical residency, have made her feel like there’s something wrong with her “because you don’t feel things the way other people do,” Root appreciates her and finds the beauty in her unique way of experiencing the world. To use Amy and Sarah’s words, this is true love. 

Reese/Jessica and Finch/Grace, on the other hand, aren’t nearly as healthy as Root/Shaw. As the Machine said, Jessica would have left Reese once she saw the darkness in him. Finch and Grace’s relationship is based heavily on lies. 

5. Their relationship is normalized.  

By “normalized,” I mean that no one fusses about Root and Shaw both being women. Coming-out stories are great, but it’s so refreshing to see Root and Shaw’s sexualities accepted in the show just as they are. Moreover, they get to be unabashedly explicit in their interactions. They allude numerous times to their kinks, they have kinky sex on screen, and the line “Oh there was plenty of sucking” is uttered between them. They are two women who just happen to fall in love in the middle of an AI war and find hope in the darkness, and every single team member recognizes the depth of their feelings for each other.

Time Not Lost (2459 words) by LeWendigogo
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Relationships: Hannibal Lecter/AdamTowers, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Characters: Hannibal Lecter, Adam Towers
Additional Tags: Time Not Lost, Hannitowers, Hannigram - Freeform

Summary:

What do you do when you lose the love of your life only to meet the very image of them yet again? When time reverses itself, and the teacup reassembles, wouldn’t you indulge? Try for a second chance?

After the battle with the Great Red Dragon, both Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham embrace just before their fall into the sea. Hannibal survives the plunge, but Will was not so fortunate. In a constant state of melancholy, Hannibal mourns the loss. However, the tides will shift once an unexpected stranger appears.

Everyone Has A Weakness - Part 1

Request from @sborrinkBucky X Reader smut where the reader and Bucky get really competitive when they spar. The reader is good at trash talk and teasing and Bucky only knows one way to shut her up (kissing, but discovers kissing her neck renders her speechless as well.). Things heat up from there.

Bucky x Sparring!Reader

Words: 2,169

Warnings: Mentions of blood and injuries, swearing, smut and unprotected sex (wrap it up!). Maybe slight dub-con too? Let me know if I have missed anything. NSFW.

Disclaimer: None of the GIFs used are mine so all credit goes to their wonderful creators <3

“Come on old man! I know you can do better than that!”

You and one James Buchanan Barnes should never spar together; not only did both of you end up walking away with a multitude of bruises but you were far too competitive and instead of a session lasting the normal length of an hour long yours would continue until one of you simply put your hands up and surrendered.

From an outsider’s point of view it would look like you both loathed each other, would be more than happy to see the other lying unconscious in a gutter somewhere, but everyone in the tower (even down to the receptionist you spoke with two times at the most) knew there was quite the opposite going on between you. The sexual tension whenever you were together forced even the most strong-minded of agents out of the room.

They also knew that you were both stubborn and the likelihood of that tension being released anytime soon seemed slim….much to their annoyance.

“How do you know I’m not just letting you win doll?”

The brunette laughed to himself as he wiped away a line of blood from the newly acquired wound on his lips.

Keep reading

Holding Out For A Hero - Peter Parker

Characters: Peter Parker/Reader

Word Count: 2,229

Warnings: Mild Violence

Notes: This is my first time posting some of my writing on Tumblr! I was contemplating whether or not to create a whole separate blog for fanfiction, but I’m not sure yet. Hope you enjoy! Please comment to let me know what you think! P.S. This is super gross and short and I was too lazy to finish it, sorry. 

THREE WEEKS AGO

“Okay, what is the metallurgical process called in which a metal is obtained in a fused state?” You recited from a passage in the textbook, slightly stumped yourself if it wasn’t for the answer column on the right side of the page. Peter chewed on the tip of his eraser, tapping his pencil against his splayed homework, which, still happened to be blank. You could see the cogs and gears working in his head, but something was distracting him. His normally bright features were reduced to a dim, throbbing pulse, and his mouth had been eternally drawn into a frown.

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Can-can you repeat the question again?”

“The answer was smelting,” you stated bluntly, feeling a morsel of pity harden in your chest. The period was almost over, but Peter was in no shape to take the chemistry quiz tomorrow, even if it was a small part of his overall grade. Surely you could extend the session for a little while longer, right? Just until he got the gist of it. The shortcoming of light and unbreathable tension that had befallen the muggy atmosphere made it hard for you to pinpoint his pronounced apprehension, yet even in your half-awake, disheveled state, you could still manage to discern every exhausted feature of the boy that sat before you in the afternoon murkiness.

Peter’s shoulders slumped and he held his face in his hands, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I am so, so sorry, Y/N. This is useless. I’m wasting your time. Thanks for trying to help me, but we’ve been at this for ages.“  

“Hey,” you cooed, placing a hand on his leg, only realizing minutes after an awkward deadlock that your comforting gesture was anything but platonic. You withdrew your arm almost immediately, your fingers inadvertently brushing past the outer of his thigh in a frantic frenzy to recompose yourself, and your cheeks flushed a reddish hue you hoped he would assume from the sun’s harsh glares.

 Peter’s lower lip was close to bleeding from all the anxious gnawing he had accomplished in the alarmingly-short time frame. You were used to being able to ease people’s worries fairly quickly, yet upon witnessing Peter’s neurotic state with your very two eyes, the more you tried to help him, the more you continued to nourish his discomposure.

The petulant frown on your face turned briefly apologetic, and the knot manifesting in the bottom of your stomach tightened unforgivably. “How about we take a break? I can cook some food for us downstairs. My parents are working late tonight, so I’d pretty much be on my own anyways. It’s really no trouble, Peter.” 

The boy’s head perked up instantly. “Did you just call me by my first name?” he mused, grinning wryly. 

You laughed halfheartedly. “Don’t get used to it.”

Peter followed you into the kitchen, hoisting himself up onto the counter rather fluidly, and he wrung his hands in his lap, watching as you gathered various ingredients from the cupboards. With armfuls of spices and cutlery, you disgorged your ever-growing pile onto a cutting board, accidentally dropping a ceramic bowl in the process. You barely had time to shriek as your mother’s esteemed dish tumbled towards the tiles, but before it could shatter into shards, Peter reached down and grabbed it out of thin air, catching it centimeters from the ground. 

“This-ah-I think this is yours,” he offered shyly, slowly handing you the bowl that should have been blown to smithereens if it wasn’t for his unnaturally quick reflexes. With your mouth agape, you stared at Peter in awe, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Did he? Could he? How was that even possible? You had seen Peter during P.E. He wasn’t fast, and he wasn’t athletic. His coordination was okay, but compared to everybody else, he was as ordinary as they came. 

Speechless, you returned to your cooking, turning the dial on the stove as you waited for the burners to heat up. The crackle of fire permeated throughout the room. 

“How-how did you do that?” You exasperated, placing your hands on your hips incredulously. Okay, now you knew for certain that something was seriously off. The whole night had been weird, but that—that was absurd

Peter obviously wasn’t expecting you to be so upfront, judging by the fact that he was stuffing his face with a half-eaten bag of croutons. “Do what?” he mumbled, swallowing thickly. 

“This! How did you do this?” You shook the bowl accusingly in his presence, your eyes aflame with a spark of lunacy, searching for any plausible answer in your frustratingly empty head. It wasn’t logical. Nobody was that quick. Not even Quicksilver. 

Peter flinched. “Guess I got lucky?”

“Pfft, yeah, right. It was luck. Will you get lucky on your chemistry quiz tomorrow, too?” Maybe you were being a little harsh, but you didn’t believe him for a second. 

You could feel his eyes perusing the kitchen as you shoveled a thinning pile of vegetables into the pan, nudging them around with a wooden spatula. Right as the cabbage and peas and carrots hit the surface, the oil popped like bubbles in champagne. The two of you managed to make small talk for a while, but the conversation didn’t last long. You mixed in the rice next, wincing as flecks of oil bit at your wrist. Peter descried your unease almost immediately. 

He was about to say something before his phone went off, and repentantly, he ducked out of the room, picking up the call. You could hear his footsteps hike idly up the stairs. It was probably just someone checking in on him, right? But then again, why did he have to go all the way upstairs to answer it? That boy was hiding something, and you would get to the bottom of it, no matter how long it took. You dumped the frying pan over two China bowls, scooping out the fried rice with haste. 

Stealthily, you ascended towards the top of the stairwell, following the muffled voice that trailed down the corridor, ending at the bathroom door. The walls were somewhat soundproof, so you could only catch snippets here and there, but at one point, you thought you’d heard your name. You didn’t want to jar the partition open—or even jostle the knob to see if it was locked—because Peter would notice either way. Your fingers itched to yank open the door—to expose him for the liar that he was. And to think that you were just starting to tolerate him. 

Suddenly, as you were about to knock, the door flung open and you tripped over your toes, crashing into Peter’s chest with the grace of a newborn calf. You let out a high-pitched scream before foolishly realizing that you had yet to hit the ground, and with hesitance, you opened your eyes, baffled to find Peter staring back at you with the exact same expression of fear written in the worry lines of his face. Contrary to the manic beating of the boy’s heart, his arms were steadily fastened around your waist, hugging you close to his body. There was a moment where his embrace squeezed your ribs a little too tightly, but you didn’t want him to let go. Your tiny fists balled in the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him like a lifeline. You were parallel to his torso by this point, though a part of you still felt as if you were falling.

— 

Peter was going to Germany? You wouldn’t admit it to yourself. You tried not to think about all the things that he could be hiding from you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was happening. Of course, you and Peter weren’t friends. Peter wasn’t obligated to tell you anything, though his cold shoulder stung nonetheless. Maybe you’d overreacted? Ever since your first tutoring session together, a spark of suspicion had flared up in your gut, and it still refused to settle after a week later. Everything Peter had done, or was doing, made him look bad. It was possible that he could’ve been immensely oblivious, but he was smarter than the average teenage boy—or so you’d thought. You’d been kept in the dark ever since your family had moved to Queens. Nobody ever told you anything. Not because you weren’t trustworthy, but because you were innocent, and it was merely human nature to preserve innocence in the face of cruel, harsh reality. People underestimated you. They never seemed to want your opinion; they never seemed to care enough about you to even ask. And undeniably, you had grown accustomed to it. 

You weren’t fond of Peter, but he was the only person who voluntarily liked talking to you, so that had to stand for something. His absence struck your small frame like a speeding bullet, and his abrupt leave filled you with more resentment than you had ever felt in your entire life. Little voices whispered in the back of your head, pushing you closer to the edge, just waiting for you to explode, but thankfully, your brain was too rational to act on one indignant impulse. 

You stripped down your dirtied clothes, stumbling your way into the shower as you tested the water’s temperature with a hesitant foot, slipping beyond a floral-printed curtain. You washed away the grime and sweat from swollen skin, shaking despite the heat that engulfed you, and you silently swore beneath your breath, needling the handle a few inches. The water burned as tiny pinpricks erupted over your whole body, painting your upper arms and thighs an ugly red hue, but you simply gritted your teeth, ignoring the agonizing sensation. Shampoo rinsed your ratty mane of the night’s failure, and white, frothy bubbles coated the limestone floor, splattering at your feet in a torrential succession. 

You slid to the ground with a thud, pulling your knees into your bare chest underneath the profuse rain, and you could feel every droplet fall on your flesh like a piece of hail, traveling in cataracts down coiled limbs. At first, the downpour was too heavy for you to differentiate between the sticky wetness on your face, but after a while, the tears that rolled down your cheeks were now waterfalls that spilled from bloodshot eyes. And you sobbed until your throat cracked and your mouth went dry.


PRESENT DAY

You winced as your back smashed against the side of a parked locomotive, denting the metal carapace and shattering the passenger window. Rendered powerless from the collision, you crumpled to the asphalt in a heap of reopened wounds, faintly making out two blurry silhouettes skirting along the edge of your reddened vision. Your jaw ached and you were more than positive that one of your ribs had splintered during the contact, but you made a feeble attempt to crawl a few inches towards the dirty backlot before being mercilessly struck down by the underside of somebody’s shoe. The side of your contused and lacerated cheek dug into jagged terrain from the pressure, and you bit down on your tongue to stop from screaming, feeling the dampness of tears slide through the cuts in your skin. You heard multiple footfalls congregating outside of your incapacitated state, heavy and tiresome from bearing the ever-present scars of warfare. There were grunts and groans and the occasional obscenity, but the noise of bone breaking drowned out the rest of the battle’s murmurs.

The smaller opponent seemed to swing from the rafters and the catwalks of the alleyway, as if he was suspended by some rope, but it was too dark to tell. The boy in the red spandex slid to a halt before his foe, flipping his palms up with such grace that the action was effortless—and somewhat natural—as a plume of white ejected from his wrist and coated the nameless assailant in an ivory web. The hero’s unidentifiable face was completely concealed by a thin sheet of fabric with two tiny eye holes purposed for navigation, but it wouldn’t take a detective to unravel the boy’s evident giddiness. His lapse of elation was short-lived, however, once the little mechanisms on his lower arms seemed to stop working. Suddenly, the boy was hurdled into a chain-link fence, doing absolutely nothing for your growing panic. A short hiss escaped from him as he fell onto his stomach and rolled briskly to his left, dodging another incoming material that had so haphazardly embedded itself into the backside of a convenient store. 

Your cries were lodged in your throat, residing in the pit of your chest as the last bit of air in your lungs evaporated into the starless sky, and somehow, you felt even closer to the ground than you had before. The weight of a thousand pickup trucks crushed your spine, pressing you further and further into the pulverized earth, your heart centimeters away from being dangerously impaled by the inward fragments of a broken rib. The preliminary numbness that had tickled your toes earlier now consumed your lower half, spreading to every inch of you like a wildfire. You attempted to stifle the continuous cries that leaked from your lips, but it was no use. You were as good as dead, and nobody could save you. 

Emotional Cheating | 2

1 - https://pendantstyles.tumblr.com/post/162156321066/emotional-cheating

//

“God forbid I get tired, Harry.”

The words Harry once neglected before were now imprinted in his mind, not leaving once you did. It was those simple words he knew not to fuck up ever again.

He knows how you are. He knows what you meant by those words. He knows that by what you said, it didn’t mean that you want God to forbid you from being tired physically. He already knew you are every day.

You meant that you didn’t want to get tired in the aspect that you were more than ready to give up. Harry knew how well you could keep up because he’s seen it before.

And God forbid you get tired of him.

There was a thought that appeared from his sub-conscious, making him almost jump in his seat in response of how much he hated it, his large hands gripping his hair.

Alcohol isn’t advisable nor recommended at the moment. It wouldn’t help his case and he knew that exactly.

You though of it too. But minutes later, you found yourself sitting next to the mini refigerator your room has with a beer in hand, putting a bill on the counter with a note because you didn’t want to be like one of those obnoxious guests.

The floor and the beer’s cold, and so is Harry’s flat. He didn’t want to call it home because you weren’t there with him and so was he mentally to be even considered as one.

“Can I call now?”

Harry’s hands were shaking, his thumb reaching out to press ‘send’ along with his hand that reached for your blanket you used to wrap yourself in whenever you were waiting for him, squeezing it.

It took every bit of Harry to stop himself from hurling objects across the room. He’d close his eyes and breathe deeply, until your words of “Self-control, love.” came into effect. He admits that he doesn’t have the longest of tempers and the highest dosage of control.

“Yes.”

His attention is fully fixed on his phone now, another pang on his chest when he saw your reply.

He specifically told you not to put periods at the end of your messages because it scared him. Maybe it’s the changed meaning every time there’s a punctuation, maybe it’d the formality.

And right now, he has every reason to be.

“Don’t get tired on me yet. You’re not going to get tired, you’re not. You’re not tired.”

Harry muttered the words once you accepted the call, not letting a single second going to waste since he precisely has 300 of it.

He’s slowly losing his right state of mind without you by his side. He was so used to being tolerated for the way he is that he forgot how to not feel when it was the other way around.

“It’s not for me to decide but I’m trying to influence you to it. The only time you’re going to be tired is when we’re gonna take care of our future kids. You’re only going to be tired when you’re out of breath not because of a fight, but from something we both like.”

Harry’s tears were pouring involuntarily with him not having any control over it, the hoarseness of his voice slightly hurting his throat from speaking faster normally than how he did.

“You’re only going to be tired when we’re packing bags to go on vacation and on tour. You’re only going to be tired from jet lag and lack of sleep and not from us. The only time you’re going to be tired is when we fight with our kids and that’s it.”

The hurt in his chest was starting to get unbearable now, the grip on the blanket to the point where his hand was going numb and his knuckles going white were getting the best of him.

His voice cracked, completely letting go of his ego and his pride, a desperate plea coming from his lips he’s willing to repeat if that’s what’s going to make you agree.

“You’re not going to get tired on me, Y/N. And that’s final.”

He used up a minute, being scared of the remaining ones because those are the last moments he’s going to hear your voice for that day.

“I know I haven’t gave you the best of reasons to not be, and I know that. I do. But love, please listen to me.”

“I know what you’re doing.”

His heart skipped a beat when he heard your voice since he didn’t expect for you to talk, he knew silence was the only thing you could muster in times like these.

“I’m trying to make you come home.”

“Is there home?” you asked in a whisper and ended with a harsh tone in your voice.

“There is.”

His grip loosened, opening and closing his hand repeatedly until he could feel the warmth go back to his veins again.

“Do you love me?”

Harry felt rigid, a cold shiver down his spine from what you asked because he never thought it would come to this. He never thought that you would ask him for confirmation if he still loves you because at moments like this, there was no other choice.

“I do.”

You leaned your head against a cabinet which made you let out a cry, not because of the pain but because of what he answered, an angry cry coming out of your lips that alerted Harry, sitting up straighter.

“Then why the hell did you do it?”

He felt his breathing come shallow, his gaze going elsewhere that didn’t make any sense.

“Because I only thought of myself.”

He’s right.

Maybe you were too selfless that you put Harry on top of your priorities that you weren’t on his.

Too selfless.

“Because I wasn’t thinking.”

You remembered all the nights you would greet him by the door with a hug he’d reciprocate half to, ignoring the pain it caused because you love him too much that it hurt you.

Too much.

“Because I wasn’t thinking of you and I deeply regret that.”

You spilled too much over the tipping point of your rock-bottom, the pain being overwhelming that you were momentarily numb from it until he spoke again.

“There isn’t anyone like you. And I’d rather not have the chance to find that out because I’m not going to take any.”

His voice was stern yet still gentle, a tone on his voice that you barely heard these past few months.

“I’m selfish; I know. I do know that. I’m selfish when it comes to having you because I just am.”

Harry breathed in deeply, his tears decreasing and so is his voice.

“I may not be the best at all things. But I know I’m selfish when it comes to having you because you make me feel like I am. And Y/N, I love that.”

He was starting to get calm now but not too much that he was confident of having you again since he didn’t want to jinx it, a tentative look on the door.

“Please come back here. I know — I know that I don’t hold the many promises that I make but I swear to God that this is real.”

He closed his eyes, wanting to desperately feel you by his side.

“You are my home.”

The phone dropped, making Harry almost break down right then and there and doubt himself that he didn’t try hard enough. That maybe he was too stupid to take you for granted and have this result.

He was so close to hurling his phone against the wall but no, he decided against that because he’s going to call you tomorrow. Maybe he’s going to call you so he put it down again, an uneasy look on his face.

Minutes or hours passed since he wasn’t sure of it passed and he spent the majority of it crying. He didn’t know why but he chose to relive by the words you told him and how broken you looked. He didn’t know why but it pained him to realize that he’s going to be the only one to do that to you.

He doesn’t know whether it’s a privilege or not.

And so, just as he felt to break the rules and let a friend track your call, the door opened.

You were there standing, a moment of realization hitting you from the moment that you ended the call is that you wouldn’t have it either way.

You’d rather be hurt because of Harry than to not at all.

He stood up instantly, taking careful steps towards you before it sank in him, hugging you so tightly and closely that you could feel his tears streaming down on your neck.

He cried onto you, heavy breathing filling the aie as you let him do it, your arms wrapping around him which made him more than grateful.

He whispered the words, but still loud and powerful enough for you to hear and to be inked forever into you.

You knew it later on by his song, yet it was the most precious to him since it held the most meaning to him, and so did it on to you, letting him convice you to get the title inked onto you, still in the meaning where only he gets to know.

“You bring me home.”

Reading Seven Bad Ideas: How Mainstream Economists Have Damaged America and the World and it is beautifully relentless:

  • “Over the past thirty years, their way of thinking has in fact time and again damaged America and the world–the damage outweighing what good has been accomplished–yet we continue to take economists terribly seriously. Their culpability has scarcely been cited. Why?”


  • “Had economists been fully dedicated to their free-market views, they would also have been up in arms over the glaring lack of regulation of the new and deliberately opaque derivatives market on Wall Street.”


  • “The 1982 recession in the United States, for example, was the worst since the Great Depression–until the recession of 2008. Despite wide-eyed assertions by well-schooled economists that Americans were now enjoying the Great Moderation, the financial collapses and ensuing recessions had, as noted, cost Americans trillions of dollars in lost wealth and jobs, diminished investment, and failed companies.”


  • “To call economists overconfident during the modern laissez-faire experiment understates their hubris. The susceptibility of economists to new fashions in thinking, their opportunistic catering to powerful interests, and their walking in lockstep with the rightward political drift of America are disturbing for a discipline that claims to be a science.”


  • “Economists could benefit from the advice that the novelist Henry James once gave students: ‘Any point of view is interesting that is a direct impression of life. You should consider life directly and closely.’ In economics, theory is not just enough and is often patently wrong.”

This is all from just the prologue, it even opens on that first one

Seriously this book is great, I’m learning a lot. In the introduction alone it neatly ties together all these financial crises across the world from the 70s on and how they all trace back to the same egotistical fucks on Wall Street getting bailed out by the government whenever anything went bad for them, meanwhile leaving all these other countries totally fucked over. I’d already known some of this, but this lays it out nicely and cohesively, meanwhile explaining how it all led up to where we are now. Highly recommend.