love him more than air

You’re Alive

Request from @ezrasrosewoodliars: Hey!! i’m such a big fan!! please can you do an imagine where Draco sees reader for the first time since the night dumbledore died and he thought she was dead because the reader is friends with the trio and goes hunting for horcruxes etc so he sees her and it’s so cute and stuff!! thank you!!

Thanks, I love PLL! Sorry this has taken a while, I’ve had so many imagines to do. I really enjoyed writing this!! Also, sorry if this is a bit crap, I got so carried away I wrote it all in one take, and it’s also really long because I wanted to make sure I got as much in as I could.

Originally posted by drarryxsexual

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Based on the prompt sent in to me by Z

Derek woke to the smell of coffee, rolling over in bed to find himself alone among the mess of blankets. He let out a weak groan as he got up, his feet hitting the floorboards with an ungraceful thud as he hoisted himself upright and dragged himself downstairs.

He crept into the kitchen where he found Stiles by the percolator, dressed in nothing more than his boxers and one of Derek’s old shirts. He reached up for the cupboard above him, picking up two mugs and setting them down on the benchtop.

Derek couldn’t resist.

He stepped forward, his footsteps quiet and predatory as he crept over to Stiles’ side. He set his hands on Stiles’ hips, his soft lips brushing across the exposed patch of pale skin on his shoulder and littering kisses across his skin as he slowly worked his way up to his neck.

His hands trailed across to the boy’s hips, his fingers brushing against the skin of his abs as they slowly trailed up beneath his shirt.

He felt Stiles flinch and pull away, ducking under Derek’s arms and quickly pouring his coffee before retreating to the table, where a stack of police files were laid out; unsolved cases and ongoing investigations that his dad had asked him to consult on.

Derek let out a heavy sigh, his heart sinking into his stomach as he watched Stiles pull away from him and leave.

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not to be dramatic but blond jongdae looks so fucking good im dead

anonymous asked:

For the meme thing: Boku no Hero Academia (also sorry I haven't been around a lot stuff been going on in my life right now)-Kes

Oh no, don’t apologize!! I have been a bit worried though, so thanks for letting me know. I hope you’re okay sweetie!!

And thanks for asking for BNHA XD Not enough people ask me about the fandom and I was really hoping I’d get to do it.

Favorite Male Character: All Might | Yagi Toshinori

Originally posted by kishou

He is everything that is good in this world and I love him more than air itself. All he wants is for everyone to be safe and happy and he loves Izuku so much!!! 

Favorite Female Character: Uraraka Ochako!

Originally posted by tsukyuo

Uraraka Ochako is best girl, and anyone who disagrees is wrong~! She’s sweet and adorable, but can fuck you up if you mess with her friends. And honestly, I respect her so much.

Least Favorite Character: Endeavor

Originally posted by miidoriyas

He’s a fucking shitstain, and I honestly don’t know how he became a hero. He’s abusive and manipulative and honestly I feel so bad for Shouto T^T

Favorite Ship: Tbh, it’s a three-way tie between Iideku, Tododeku, and Todoiideku~!

Favorite Friendship: EraserMic!! I mean, I ship them too, but their friendship in canon is the funniest and most entertaining thing ever and I love them both so much XD Izuku, Iida, and Uraraka’s friendship is another one I really really appreciate. They’re all so good for each other <3

Originally posted by midorkiya

Favorite Quote: “There’s a difference between something you were born with out of pure luck, and something you won after busting your ass for it.”

This quote basically sums up what the premise of this series is, and I feel like it’s such a good message to send to readers. And it’s not just about Izuku either. Like yeah, all the other characters in Izuku’s class were born lucky with these amazing quirks, but the only reason they’re as amazing as they are is because they all work so hard to master their quirks. Even someone with an amazing quirk like Todoroki’s or Bakugou’s would fall into mediocrity if they just tried to rely on the natural power of their quirk instead of working their asses off to get stronger.

Worst Character Death (if any): Mm, I don’t think this one really counts, since it’s basically the only one in the series and it happened before the canon storyline, but I’d say Shimura Nana’s death is pretty sad.

She was beautiful and amazing, and yeah she had her faults, but she was always doing her best to make the world a better place. Also, she’s big and buff and gorgeous.

This made me so happy you have no idea Moment:

Yeah I know, kinda a weird thing to be happy about. Nut I’m ngl, I had chills like woah when he showed up at the end of the USJ arc because this man. He can smile at literally anything. But the moment you hurt his kids? All fucking bets are off. And I adore that I love that he cares about his students so fucking much. All the teachers at UA are amazing and would fight to their dying breath to keep their kids safe, and this arc did a really good job of showing that, and I love it.

Saddest Moment: 

Favorite Location: UA!! The entire campus is just absolutely gorgeous and awesome and like damn, I would LOVE to attend school there. The dorms too look super amazing!!!


Author’s Note: this is part of the @kpoptrashnetwork welcome gift. i was paired with my dear, dear friend @the-porcelain-doll-xo, whom i’ve only known for a short time but admire completely. <3

Summary: A snapshot of your relationship with Bang Yongguk after you see him at a wedding

Genre: fluff; very light angst

Pairing: Yongguk x Reader (oc; ambiguous gender) (i wrote this with yongguk in mind, however his name is never said. so this could be optional bias, depending on your mood)

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 1,741

Originally posted by minhyuq

The night you met him, you thought you couldn’t love him any more than this.

Much unlike you and, surely, impossible, the sight of him made your heart stumble in its rhythm, tripping over his hair, his jaw, his neck. Off to the side of the dance floor and holding a flute of champagne with the same care he’d give to a lover, he was talking. He was talking, lips moving and shaping words as though each deserved a kiss as they passed along his tongue, and you were surrendering to a minute state of mourning, saddened that you could not hear his voice. He was talking, and the world around you was changing.

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anonymous asked:

what are your thoughts about bakugou and midoriya's relationship? platonic, i mean

I live and die for it, every part of the manga in which that relationship is shown progressing is between my favorite parts of the manga and I’ve reread them a hundred times and cried over them way more than necessary - the battle trial one? yes, the end of terms exam? absolutely yes holy shit, the post-license exam fight? god yes fuck me that’s my absolute fav, the rescue arc? shit yes between all the reasons why that arc’s my fave the change in the deku/baku relationship is definitely a worthy of note one

It’s an interesting relationship, a painful one that’s making both of them grow so so so much, a rivalry they both need to better each other and keep each other straight on the path to become two great, all-around heroes - I’m not sure they’ll ever end up having the type of relationship Izuku has with Todoroki or Bakugou with Kirishima, I don’t think it’s possible for them to be friends like that, they’re just too different to properly fit like that and to avoid stepping on each other’s toes every single day of their lives they’d have to change their core personalities too much, but they did end up being able to coexist (Bakugou’s even giving Deku tips!!!) and I do think they’ll be able to cooperate and support each other in the end. If one day they’ll be able to make fun of each other in a friendly manner and egg each other on and be honest with each other without it escalating into a full blown fight I’d truly be happy, that’s probably my main dream for this whole manga. For them to have a healthy rivalry, one in which they can maybe even laugh together. I think it might happen, I’m waiting for it to happen

Anon said: Hi Fran! I’m obsessed with your BakuShimaNari work. Here’s a cute thought to hopefully cheer you up a bit while you’re unable to draw: they’re all in their early 20s and Denki likes to poke/smooth out the little crease between Bakugo’s eyebrows and tease him about getting wrinkles early from all the scowling he does. Bakugo flicks him in the nose and says he’s starting to get crows feet from always grinning like an idiot.

Oh my god. Oh my g o d this is the sweetest thing I’ve ever read. Oh my g OD I’m just imagining them doing that and Kiri in the background watching them like they’re most precious thing in the world I’m dying rip me this just made my whole life thank you so much anon *sob*

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The Battle

The battle had been won.

The wounded were bleeding; the dead were covered in dust, and the alive were barely living.

Sounds seemed quieter, the morning sun seemed duller, and the body of Voldemort lay in the centre of the room untouched. It soothed some, horrified others, and some felt nothing.

In all of the disaster, tiredness, and destruction people were beginning to reunite. Families trying to sow themselves back together and friends trying to come to terms with the losses. It had hit every single person differently, and even the winning side hadn’t really won.

Bent over himself, his hands on his knees as he looked at the woman before him. Her hair usually bright like a rainbow, and yet it was plain — almost sand coloured, and he hated what that meant.

Her heart had been his, but his had been with another.

He tried to compose himself, attempting to be some comfort to those who were still here and be of need. The tears that he had pushed away, still fought tooth and nail to appear; when one pushed through, forging its escape down his cheek, he let it.


Remus turned, that one tear falling from his jawline and hitting the floor. He hadn’t known what to do, his entire conscious, mind, and heart somewhere else entirely.

So he gave in. He surrendered to thoughts, and sensibility and he wrapped his hands around that neck, and head. Remus pulled him close, and pressed his lips against his mouth — in need and hunger. Remus didn’t care for the people around, he wanted to show him that he was thankful, grateful, and that he loved him.

He loved him more than air, than anything.

Remus stroked his thumb over his cheek, feeling the cut in the perfect skin he had loved for decades now.

“Moony… we made it,” and Remus wanted to smile, he wanted to release the tension — but he couldn’t. “Moomus,” and Remus had to laugh, the stupid name haunting him for the same decades he had loved him in. Remus found his eyes pulled to the shimmering silver pools. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Pads,” Remus whispered.

“To the moon,” Sirius whispered, and Remus wanted to say that the sun was out now, the war had lasted so long.

He didn’t though.
He knew what was needed.

“To the stars,” Remus replied, and they kissed again before they broke apart, both looking up at the sky. “We did it Lils.”

“We did it Prongs.”

Their hands entwining as their rings pressed together, as they smirked at their double meaning. They had protected their Godchild, and finally give in to what destiny had planned.

Mr and Mr Lupin-Black, just like their friends had called all those years ago.

He’s My Friend (Percival Graves x Reader)

Request: Graves being jealous from afar and/or up close because the reader is paying attention to someone else.

A/N: Okay this ended up being somewhat sadder than I originally planned so please ensure your seatbelts are strapped in tight before the flight thank you

Originally posted by eduardica2

“Take that bucket over there, that’s for the mooncalves.”

You glanced at Newt, who had his brow furrowed in concentration as he reached into the occamy nest to inspect one. Even though you had known him for a while now, he never failed to fascinate you. Especially the way he would drop everything he was doing just to help one of his creatures. He was a caring man, and you deeply valued the friendship you had with him. 

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I’m sorry for taking away your first breath 

Because I was too scared of consequence 

And know, that every tear I’ve cried since then

Has been for you

And your little ten toes

That I never got to count

And your soft skin and eyes of your father

That I never did see

But know that you were a product

Of real, raw young love

And that I loved him more than the air that I breathed

And I loved him more than you

For that, I can never cry enough

Because I chose us, over you

I chose now, over you

And I’ll never forgive myself.

For being a coward .

Now I can only find courage

At the end of a bottle.

Culture Shock (Rusame gift fic)

A belated and heartfelt happiest of birthdays to the wonderful @coloredglobe (artwork also found at @globesart). I cannot wish this wonderful soul enough happiness. Your art skills and imagination are inspiring. I hope your special day was as wonderful as you are.

Synopsis: A tendency to doubt the good that comes his way makes it easy for Russia to misinterpret some of the things America does. It doesn’t help when your cultural approaches to certain actions are very different.

Culture Shock

It had been a fast discovery for America, learning about Russia’s relentless pessimism. It made itself apparent when Alfred was still just that upstart giving the British Empire an unparalleled headache. That was when Russia’s eyes danced with open amusement as he provided support and even a listening ear to the American- but always something else danced in those sunset eyes. It was a wariness, a hesitancy warning Russia against getting too used to any degree of comfort, of closeness.

That look morphed from measured caution to stubborn disbelief, almost to the point of cynicism, over the next few centuries. It went from being an unwelcome blemish in Ivan’s eyes to a feature as omnipresent as his beloved scarf. And just as strong a defense mechanism.

But for how constant that relentless doubt had become, when America and Russia began pursuing their relationship in earnest, America was determined to wipe away that fear of believing in permanent happiness. Slowly, very slowly, America chipped away at the wall of security Ivan has built, reveling in every instance Ivan was unable to force down a genuine smile, his most beautiful expression, precious in its sincerity. America accepted each look as a triumph. Even so, it all seemed too tenuous for either of their likings.

Russia was a cautious man.

The two most powerful warriors are patience and time.

Sage words by one of Russia’s most renowned writers, dear Lev Tolstoy, had long been the basis for how Ivan operated. Happiness was a treasure, delicate, often transient. Ivan had developed in his heart a steadfast belief of his very own that someday that eternal happiness he so sought would be achieved.

But not today. Not yet. Some indefinite amount of tomorrows from now, he would lift his gaze to finally witness a secure joy that no force from within or without could rid him of.

Someday. But probably not today.

In times of hardship, he would remind himself This too shall pass. That same mantra was privately understood even at the height of his happiness, including now, while he and America mended their relationship and made it something more beautiful than even before the suspicion and threats.

Russia had at first not understood the looks America gave him when the cessation of their fighting came about. But it transpired he was very familiar with them indeed.

Realization had hit him, hard and fast, after a lunch he, America, France, and England had all shared one afternoon some years past. England had busied himself with interrogating their waitress on all possible dressings available for his dish while France regarded his fellow diners with open interest over the rim of his wine glass. Russia had met America’s eye for a moment that could have lasted the rest of the afternoon. An interruption came in the form of France’s broad, elated smile and his hushed coo of, “Ah, it is back.”

“What is?”

But France had waved away their inquiries, letting his eyes remain on Russia for a beat longer before redirecting his attention to England. After their meal, America had taken a moment to catch up with England, talking and beaming and animated as ever. In the moment of privacy, France had stepped up beside Russia with that same achingly gentle approval as before. “I am happy for you,” he had said in his voice of warm cocoa. “It is good to see that look again. It’s been gone for…too long.” Something sad had filled those blue pools, painting them with…could it have been…regret? Remorse?

An unspoken apology.

It had been later that night that Russia pieced it together, and the realization seemed to knock the wind right out of him. Of course. Back in his days as an empire, following Francis around, studying up to engage in long discussions of Voltaire and the like. Nervousness and self-doubt had quickly morphed to awe and open adoration, and from there to unmistakable…



Oh, he was sure France had loved him back then, for Francis could not help but love- it seemed to him more vital than the very air he breathed, for he would no longer want such air if a single breath was drawn in a world without love. But while Russia, in his excitement and inexperience, had thrown himself into feelings of romantic infatuation, France’s affections were different, more characteristic of fondness, deep platonic caring. They both walked the same road that ended in a fork, and down diverging paths they each went.

But the fact remained that Russia had known love, and felt love, let himself be wrapped in its suffocating hold and let out with every breath. And not until recently could Francis, with such a keen eye for such things, spot that look of achingly open love in Russia once more.

Russia gave a small smile.

I do love him. And I have told him.

Beside him now, America gave him a sharp nudge. “Something funny, big guy? Let me in on the joke.”

Russia roused himself from his thoughts- so often a sad dwelling. “You are going to ruin the store’s inventory. They will be out of business because of you.”

America drummed his fingers against the handle of the shopping cart laden with items from every single isle and section within those isles. “Nah, broski, I’m fueling the economy. I’ll be this place’s hero.” With a slight heave, America pushed the cart up to the register, Russia following beside him. He was granted a clear view of the winning smile America flashed the cashier, one that would be right at home in a Hollywood action film.

Russia’s own smile fell, right with his stomach.

“Thanks for bagging,” the cashier said as Russia mutely squeezed by America to begin loading his numerous purchases. Russia said nothing, unable to produce anything civil when he witnessed the peppy grin the cashier rewarded America, his Alfred, with- as if she had any right. Russia’s thin lips pressed into an even thinner line.

“Thanks, man,” Alfred said warmly, letting his arm rub flush against Ivan’s in gratitude. Russia felt sure he could feel the warmth of America’s skin through the fabric of his shirt. Some of his earlier trepidation faltered, and Russia replied with a small nod and equally small smile. America beamed. It was different than the one he graced the store employee with, laced with something more. Ivan always considered America’s smiles for him to be treasures. Alfred’s special smiles, brought to his face by the unfathomable (to Ivan) cause of Ivan himself.

He tried to remember this as he and America went about the rest of their day together, for he needed that strength.

Watching from afar as rivals, it was easier to play off the nasty churning in his stomach as a loathing to see his adversary joyful. Now, there was no excusing Russia’s blatant jealousy. His normally pristine posture gradually wilted as America granted stranger after stranger his prized smiles. Certainly Ivan was privy to them on a more regular basis, but it was simply inconceivable that America was giving those looks away with the same frequency he gave them to his lover.

It made Russia’s status feel…insubstantial.


“Something wrong, babe?” America asked over dinner, carefully eyeing Russia from over the plate of steaming steak he was slowly cutting.

“Why do you do that?” Ivan asked without preamble, without even really deciding he wanted to discuss this.

“Do what?” America asked, bringing a chunk of meat to his mouth and chewing.

Ivan opened his mouth to speak, but just then their waiter came over and asked how their food was. Swallowing quickly, Alfred beamed and gave a brief rundown of all the reasons their meal was the best. The waiter chuckled, returning the smile, causing America’s to grow before he strode off. America turned his attention back to Russia.

“That,” Russia said in a sad rumble. “Do you two know each other well?” he added slowly, his entire form seeming to droop.

“Well, he is American- he’s one of mine, so it feels like I know him.”

“But in a more traditional sense,” Ivan countered. “Are you that close with him?”

America blinked, lashes fluttering behind his glasses. “Uuuh, can’t say I met him before today.”

Russia tried not to bristle. Failed. He took a deep sip of his drink. Let it reinforce his resolve. Only when his glass was replaced on the table did he speak up. “Then…I am not that special.”

America looked astounded, eyes doubling in size, and oh, it made it so very tempting to forget his hurt, rush across the table, and kiss all around those perfect pools of blue. But there seemed little point, suddenly. “What are you talking about? You’re the most special person in my life.” The sincerity Alfred managed to put into those words was admirable for how at odds they were with his actions. “I’ve never and will never meet another person like you, Evie.” His gaze darkened unexpectedly. “Listen, whatever garbage your boss might be saying about y-”

“It is not that,” Russia cut in hurriedly. They tended to know just how much politics to discuss together and treaded that line rather well- but after learning the extent of Ivan’s past mistreatment by some leaders, Alfred was never really able to keep himself quiet.

“I mean,” Russia began again, eyes flashing as he willed himself to see this through. He glanced around, sighing. “I mean…I get the same treatment as all of these strangers. I thought we were something more than…” He let the sentence trail off.

Alfred looked utterly nonplussed. “Last I checked I don’t go kissing strangers, or turning up at their house with their favorite flowers, or think about them whenever I look at the stars, or…or see some shade of purple during the day and think how I can find that same color in some stranger’s eyes.” America’s tanned fingers were now playing relentlessly with his cloth napkin, ears reddening.

Russia dropped his gaze for a moment, thrown, before looking back up. “Da, but…” He took a short breath. “You give these people you do not even know such beautiful smiles. Even for the smallest of things, without any words exchanged. I wanted to think only I could get those.” By the time he finished, Ivan’s voice was but a defeated mumble.

He heard the scrape of the chair legs against the floor as America came to crouch beside him. Russia sighed, cradling his head in his hands, elbows rested on the table, looking determinedly anywhere but at Alfred. The American was making that a difficult feat.

Especially when his lips brushed against Ivan’s cheek, burning the flesh there.

“Gorgeous,” America said in a soft yet somber voice. “I promise you get a smile of your very own. Cause the ones you get…all those others- they’re just out of…politeness. I like showing people how happy I am, or trying to make them feel happy.”

“And I get the exact same thing, so clearly I am not import-”

“Shush,” America interrupted, the tips of his fingers grazing Ivan’s lips. Ivan turned to send him a defiant look, but Alfred plowed on, never one to be deterred by that expression. “But when I’m with you, and I get to see you, and how special and beautiful you are, and know that I get the privilege of calling you my boyfriend- Evie, I can’t help but smile.”

Ivan’s face had not blatantly shifted from his defiant look from before, but his earlier fire had rekindled to something else entirely- a hesitant yet unshakable desire to believe each and every word that was said. Encouraged, America wrapped his arms around his still seated lover. “One of these days you have to believe me when I say how wonderful I think you are, and feel it for yourself,” he said over the crown of Russia’s head. “I promise on…on…the Space Station, this is special to me, you’re special, and all I want is for this to work and for you to be happy.”

There was a pause.

“No rebuttal?” Alfred teased gently.



A soft, slightly wet sniff sounded in reply.

Russia glared ahead from his spot in America’s arms, pale lashes fluttering, fighting down the faint burning in his eyes. “Sentimental American,” he muttered.

Alfred grinned, hugging him closer. “Aw, shucks. You’re not allowed to cry unless you believe me.”

Russia stared stubbornly ahead still, trying to hunch his shoulders. “You throw smiles around without a second thought,” he protested faintly, almost determined to find some fault in this whole situation, in Alfred’s earnesty.

“It’s polite.”

“It undermines how special they are, how special the recipient is, if anyone can receive it.”

America’s face twisted in disagreement. He did not release his hold on Russia. “Not here, broski. Here you’re a rude recluse who probably gives out rocks on Halloween if you don’t smile to everyone.” He paused, at last drawing back and leaning down, scrutinizing his makeshift captive. “Wait, is that all this is? Some cultural misunderstanding?”

At last, Russia turned, face stony. “My children and I only smile when it is meant, and never mind rocks on Halloween,” he explained, blinking owlishly. “It is less courteous to throw around such expressions of happiness when they are not felt.”

America gave a shaky laugh of relief, returning to hugging Russia against his chest, ignoring the other man’s shifting and tugging. “Oh, thank Steve Rogers! Vanya, babe, sweetheart, I swear again on the Space Station, me smiling at strangers- that’s just me being an American. When I smile to you, that’s the luckiest man on earth telling the most beautiful boyfriend how happy he is to be together.” His words were followed by a long, wet kiss on the cheek. America could feel how warm the skin had become when he lips pressed against it, and his giddy laughter bubbled up once more.

Russia continued trying halfheartedly to break free, but an unmistakable tugging could be felt at the corners of his lips.

“Come on, lemme see it!” America cheered in a silly manner, proceeding to pepper kisses all over Russia’s face, on his cheeks, below his eyes, at the tip of his protuberant nose. At last, Ivan gave a smile, albeit reluctantly.

“And this is the smile of a man whose boyfriend is sleeping on the couch tonight,” he promised, fighting down his smile just long enough to send Alfred a solemn look.

Alfred did not yield. “Alright,” he conceded. “But I’m willing to bet that man has a fondness for cuddles and will be joining his boyfriend on the couch in no time.”


Their waiter stood before them, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, notepad in hand.

“I have the best boyfriend,” was all America said in explanation, resting his chin atop Ivan’s head of soft platinum hair. “Mine.”

And for tonight, Russia let himself believe wholeheartedly that perhaps irrefutable joy was attainable, that today he had something that could last, that the warm arms that opened so readily for him would always be there.

He wasn’t aware at the time, but even America felt he had chipped away at yet another bit of that barrier of doubt.

And it was just as beautiful as the look Ivan had worn when he’d said all those truthful things about him.


Check out Globe’s blogs for some absolutely stellar art, posts, insights and more. It’s a unique art style that brings such new life to the characters- I LOVE it. Happy birthday again, dear ♡


Dear 560 readers, I love you all. Here’s a fluffy text !

IMAGINE : Pietro and you arguing about the fact that you don’t want to get an apartment with him. He thinks it’s stupid to almost live together but to go back to your respective flat in the morning and doesn’t understand your reaction so he takes a decision …
SONG : By Your Side - Tenth Avenue North


You screwed up your eyes as Pietro stared at you. He crossed his arms, looking determined. You groaned and said again :
“We just … can’t live together ! It would be such a mess.” You shook your head and you leant against the wall.
You didn’t think what you were saying, but you were so afraid Pietro could leave you, you just didn’t want to be disappointed in the end.
“Why ? I mean we’re adults …” You could see a frown developing on his beautiful face and you thought you were going to argue all night long.
You laughed nervously, trying to make fun of the situation but you knew it had failed when he sighed.
“I thought it was serious … You know, you and me.” He swallowed.
His voice had changed, it sounded sad. You bit your bottom lip, deeply hurt by his words. Your eyes filled with tears and the only thing you managed to mumble was :
“It is.”
“Then what ?” He seemed so upset and something in your throat made it difficult for you not to cry when you answered :
“What would I do if you leave ?”
He frowned and gazed at you, confused.
“What ? Why would I leave ?” He asked.
“I don’t know, maybe for some other girl, because that’s life … And there are so many beautiful girls who would like to …” You mumbled.
You couldn’t finish your sentence, he was already gone and you were standing all alone in the empty room. Your heart slowly broke into pieces.
But a few seconds later, his arms were around your waist and you sighed through your tears. His body against yours was the best sensation you knew. He was so close you could feel his fresh breath on your mouth.
“You’re really afraid of that ?” He whispered.
You looked at him and just nodded, already lost in his deep blue eyes. He remained silent and kissed you slowly. His tongue around yours was so soft, you could feel this tingling itching but nice sensation only him could give you from head to toe. He was breathless as he kissed you passionately but he finally moved his mouth back.
“Then marry me.” He sighed against your lips.
His eyes reflected mild anxiety and fear. Your heart skipped a beat and you stopped breathing, you raised your head to look up, eyes wide open.
“What ?…” You gasped, frowning a little bit. You thought you must had misunderstood.
He reached into his pocket and handed you a small box. It was certainly the reason why he had left a few minutes earlier.
You opened it to discover a beautiful ring with a line of diamonds. The most amazing jewel you had ever seen in your whole life was right here in your hand.
“Marry me (Y/N).” He repeated louder as you stared at the ring.
You blinked, shocked. You weren’t waiting for that, at all. You were lost for words and could barely utter :
“But …”
“I belong to you. I was upset I couldn’t find a way to show you how much you mean to me and I still think it’s not enough but … You’re my north and south, and there will never be a song, a word or anything else in the universe that explain how much I love you …” He paused, still gazing at you. “And I want to spend the rest of my life by your side.”
He took your hand to place it on his chest thus you could feel his pounding heart. As if he was reading your mind, he stated :
“Yes, you’re the only one who makes me feel like that, alive. I know it’s not pretty romantic but … I couldn’t keep that for myself forever.”
You looked in his eyes and you could say he was truly sincere. You realized how much the chromosomes of his heartbeat were an exact clone of yours and your skin started to burn as heat flooded your cheeks. You never imagined you would marry someone, even less Pietro.
“W-When … did you decide to …” You stuttered, blinking.
He ran his fingers through his silver hair nervously.
“It’s been a month …” He mumbled.
You smiled as a sweet sensation of euphoria was spreading in your stomach, then in your whole body. You had never in your life imagined it could be so perfect. The man you loved, the one and only, was proposing you.
“So …” He looked down and his voice suddenly sounded anxious.
You giggled before answering.
“Yes … Yes I’ll marry you Pietro Maximoff.” You replied with a little voice hushed by tears of joy.
He lifted his head up with sparkling eyes and you gazed at him a few seconds. You suddenly pressed your lips against his and you could hear your heart beating hard in your chest. There was not a sensation in the world, not a jump in the air or anything else in the universe that was better than this moment.
“I love you …” You sighed, grabbing his shirt between your fingers.
He was smiling like never before when he took your face in his hands to look in your eyes.
“I love you more than my own life (Y/N) …” He whispered before kissing you passionately.
All the love you could feel for him, and all the passion that burnt your heart flowed in this kiss. At that moment, you realized it wasn’t just a ‘Yes’. The fact was you couldn’t live without this man in the same way that you couldn’t breathe with no air. You loved him so deeply, more than the world, more than the sun or happiness itself.
He was your everything and you were his.

Okay my heart is broken

But like what is happening to my baby? How is he getting home? Is someone taking care of him? Is he all alone in the dark? Is he really spending the night crying and shivering, thinking that all of the love Even has given him was nothing but a symptom of his illness? The worst part is we know Isak does not have much insight into mental illness and doesn’t understand much about it, so he will believe Sonja in a heartbeat. He will immediately think that he is bad for him, that their love is nothing but a result of mania. He will hate himself, think that he drove Even crazy. That everything he feels is one sided. He will stay away thinking that Even is better off without him.

When the sad truth is Even needs him more than he needs air to breathe. His love for Isak is the one thing that will make him strong enough to get better again. Because true fact, Love is not a symptom of mental illness, Love is the one thing that can pierce that veil of darkness and shed enough light to make you see the entire world around you again. Love is the one thing that wakes you up and reminds you that you can feel things other than pain and loneliness. Love is the reason we fight the darkness, instead of taking the easy way out and letting it consume you.

Isak was and is the light that Even’s love for him let through, He is the thing that has been making Even question everything that people (Sonja) have been telling him he should feel, versus what he really feels. We can see now that he has been trying to come to terms with these feelings while also having an overpowered need to be around Isak, because Isak is the light that is making Even truly see the world and everything in it. He is helping him not be afraid of his feelings, to embrace them. Accept them. Just like Even has helped Isak not be afraid of his own feelings and to accept his sexuality and love for Even.

I do believe Even has turned his back on the treatment for his illness because he is afraid of losing the light his love for Isak gives him. He is terrified of losing him. And this is the most humane thing in the world. To try to ‘fix’ yourself to be enough for the person you love, even if it means endangering yourself.

I also know for sure that the only way for Even to get through this is if he has his light by his side, and for that to happen we need Isak to understand that he is not the cause of the illness, he is Even’s saviour.

Together they will save each other. <3

Originally posted by isakyaki

Okay my wonderful cupcakes with sprinkles it’s time to get a grip

Hello my lovely fandom family. At this point my inbox is starting to fill up with sheer and utter panic. 

The concerns post Olicity break up are thus:

- Oliver is going to sleep with Cupid

- Oliver is going to sleep with Samantha

- Oliver is training with Laurel, while Felicity is in a wheelchair. HOW COULD HE BETRAY HER LIKE THAT?

- Oliver training with Laurel is just further evidence of them getting back together.

- Oliver is going to sleep with Laurel 

- Oliver is reuniting with Laurel. We’ve been duped by the writers. There is no Olicity. This is all about L*uriver. They never changed the endgame.

- The picture of Laurel will reemerge in the flashbacks and this means L*uriver is getting back together

- Flashback Ollie will look at Laurel’s picture, stop banging the Unpleasant Looking Woman (aka Whatshername) because he’ll remember he’s suppose to love Laurel.  Flashback Ollie will borrow the LOT time machine, probably bang Sara on the trip, and then show Present Day Oliver Laurel’s picture. Present Day Oliver will see Laurel’s picture, remember he’s suppose to love her, train with Laurel, propose to her, kick Felicity out of the loft (while she’s in the wheelchair of course) and then they will have all the sex. All in episode 4x16. 

***It’s possible I made the last one up. 

Before you ask, yes these were Olicity fan messages. 

Around the middle of the season the Olicity fandom begins their reenactment of One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest. 

It’s okay. I anticipate it. It’s sort of watching Ruldolph The Red Nose Reindeer at Christmas every year. It’s just the time of year that happens.

But could we, I don’t know, maybe attempt a level of reason that borders on sanity? 

After FOUR YEARS the writers have shown the following:

- They adore Olicity

- They understand Olicity is a core component of their show

- They understand with CRYSTAL CLARITY that 98% of their audience loves this relationship

So, maybe, could we show just a little faith in their writing abilities? I’m not asking you to abandon your livelihoods and follow Guggie wherever he goes. I’m just saying take a breath. View things in a calm manner. Approach the story with reason, not panic. View spoilers with logic, not fear. 

Offer the love story you adore a smidgen of belief.

I’m not going to address each of these concerns because

That said… a couple of points. Any training with Laurel is the writers checking off the fanboy list before they ship Buckles off. 

Whether she dies, leaves town, starts the first colony on the moon - whatever. Buckles is not long for the Arrow world. The writers are tying up loose ends & wish list requests so they can boot her ass with a modicum level of peace & quiet in regards to her fans.

Additionally, I would like to say this. At some point, we need to believe in the heart of the hero in this story. 

We have to believe in the goodness of Oliver Queen. He’s come a very long way since Season 1. He has more than proven he loves Felicity Smoak. She is air to him. He loves her more than life itself. 

Yes, he screwed up. Big time. But this break up has NOTHING to do with Oliver not loving Felicity or Felicity not loving Oliver. He will desperately want her back and will do anything to win her back. His plan to win her back will not include include sleeping with (INSERT RIDICULOUSNESS HERE). Oliver went an entire season without sex because he simply couldn’t fathom being with anyone else. And that was when he had absolutely no hope of ever being with Felicity Smoak. 

You honestly believe his next move after this break up is to bang the next woman he comes into contact with? 

His plan will entail becoming MORE honorable, not less, and this is one pretty honorable guy already. You either believe in Oliver Queen or you don’t. 

And if you don’t… it’s time to turn the channel.

There is no L*uriver. It is over. Everybody on both sides of the fandom needs to embrace the story the writers are telling and this is simply the reality.

I have explained to near ad nauseum the necessity for this break up. It is 100% business driven. It’s a TV show. This is how they work. The end result will be a marketing blitz promoting the Olicity wedding the likes of which this fandom has never seen.

Just think about the promotion for the first date. Now multiply that times 10. Then add 2 million to it. That will be the sum total of the promotional power behind the Olicity wedding. It will be ALL. SUMMER. LONG. It will be the focus of SDCC. It will be the focus of the entire first half of Season 5. Felicity trying on dresses. Bridesmaids trying on dresses. Discussions of venues, food, bachelor and bachelorette parties and all the villains trying to gum it up along the way. Then 5x08 will arrive. It will be the episode of your dreams. Actual fanfiction come to life. ON STEROIDS. Arrow, Flash, Legends - all your favorites, every character, celebrating one glorious couple: OLICITY.

All we need to do is just… relax. 

Let it happen. 

Let the dream come to you. 

You don’t have to chase it. 

The writers are going to wheel it into your living room. They are going to present it to you on a silver platter. You just have to sit and watch.

All they are asking from you is a few measly little weeks. Just a couple of episodes of Oliver and Felicity in total and absolute misery so they can get to the date they need to get to. 

If it helps, pretend like the writers have sent you a “Save the Date” card okay? Because, trust me, they have.

Just a little calm okay? Some chill. A fraction. 

We can do it. We have achieved far greater feats my friends. That is all I have to say my wonderful blueberry muffins with extra crunchy munchies on top.