my favourite jumper!


Your game also hypersexualizes women. And the men are shown as powerful… and notably clothed. Your game normalizes male violence against women. Imagine how that feels to a sexual assault survivor. 

Calum Hood Blurb: Shades Of Blue

Before I met you, blue used to be my favourite colour. I liked all shades, the ones from the sky, the sea, my favourite jumper. I loved it. 

Then I met you. In my favourite coffee shop, which was painted a pale blue. You were stood infront of me wearing a shirt that was my favourite shade of blue . As I tapped you on the shoulder and you turned around I told you that I liked your shirt because it matched the blue tips in my hair. I honestly never had a bigger smile on my face, when I was talking to you. I instantly knew I had fallen in love. 

For 3 years I had never loved the colour blue more. It was the colour of happiness. I loved blue and all the different shades it had. With you in my life, everyday you created a new shade. 

But then the colour blue turned into the bra that I found on our bedroom floor when I walked in on you sleeping with another girl with blue tipped hair. 

Blue was ruined forever.

chained-to-the-mirror  asked:

I meant to ask earlier, have you finalised your music selection for the wedding yet? Are you already downstairs with John? :)

I’ve mostly finalised it, yes, but I’d rather not say what we’ve chosen yet.  I chose most of it, but I’ve discussed it with John, too, and he approves.  However, I do have some secrets he doesn’t know about.  :)  We’re on the sofa now.  He’s wearing one of my favourite jumpers, and I love sitting with him when he wears it.


“Hey! That is mine.” Remus says, outraged. Sirius gives him a pleading look.

“It’s cold, Moony. Very very cold.” He exhales heavily, breath clouding in the air to demonstrate his point.

“Really, Pads? I didn’t notice. I was just coming upstairs to put on my favourite winter jumper for no reason.”

Sirius rests his chin on his knees, arms wrapped around his legs. His hands are lost in the sleeves of Remus’ jumper, which is big even on him, and he’s got a few inches on Sirius. “It’s your favourite?”

“That is why I wear it approximately 97% of the time, yes.”

“It smells like you.”

Fuck. It hits him, suddenly. Sirius is wearing his jumper. Sirius is snuggled up inside the sweater that he wears against his own skin, their scents mingling, joining… for fucks sake, Remus thinks, berating himself. It’s just a bloody jumper, and this isn’t a mills and boon novel. Get your shit together.

“Better than smelling like you,” he says, offhandedly, trying to compose himself. Sirius stands fluidly, and he’s in front of Remus all of a sudden.

“That’s not nice,” he says. “I smell amazing.”

“Amazingly gross. Like wet dog.”

Sirius raises his armpit in invitation. “Smell me. I smell awesome. Nicked Prongs’ special shampoo and now I smell exactly like Christmas.”

“I’m not sniffing your armpit. And you’ll just smell like me and James, and that’s a scent I never want to smell.”

Sirius gives him a sly look. “So… you don’t want to smell like Prongsy, but you don’t mind smelling like me…”

Remus rolls his eyes. “Give me back my jumper, asshole.”


“Excuse me?” Remus says, and he can feel his eyebrow flying up so high it’s practically in outer space. Sirius grins, easy, reckless, challenging. Make me, that grin says.

“I’m cold, your jumper is soft and warm and smells really good, and I’m wearing it.”

“Are you.”


“What if I take it off you?”

The grin grows wider. “Really? You’re going to wrestle me for it? Like we’re first years again?”

“I always beat you, remember.”

“Hey! I’m handicapped by a lack of werewolf strength.”

Remus takes a step forward. Sirius doesn’t step back. He pauses for a moment, considering. Fuck it. He lunges for Sirius, wrestling him backwards until they both collapse onto the bed in a heap. They scrabbled about for a bit, until Sirius manages to wrap his arms around him. Remus relaxes for a moment, nose pressed in Sirius hair.

“You know,” Sirius says, shifting a little so that Remus is more comfortably pressed against him. “If you stayed right here, we’d both be warm.”

Remus heart is pretty much jumping out from between his ribs. “I can’t fault your logic,” he says. It’s still rather have my jumper back though.” Sirius twists, so that he is facing Remus. Their hips are too close together for comfort.

“Really?” Sirius asks, eyes clear and grey and honest, all echoes of a joke gone.

No. Not really. Not at all. This is exactly where I want to be, but I can’t say that in case this is one of your fucked up pranks and Prongs is in the wardrobe. He says nothing.

“Moony,” Sirius says. Remus shuts his eyes, the moment suddenly more intimate than he is ready for. Sirius arms are strong around him, hands splayed across his back, fingers just brushing the skin where his shirt has ridden up. Sirius hadn’t been lying; he really does smell like Christmas, fresh pine and cranberries and snow. Wizarding shampoo’s are an experience.

“Moons,” he murmurs. “You can… I mean, we… fuck.”

“Yeah,” Remus says.

“It’d be alright, you know. Me and you.”

Remus looks at him. “You reckon?”

Sirius smiles, bright with hope. “I reckon,” he says. “If… well… if you want.”

Remus lets himself smile a little. “Alright. Only if you give me back my jumper.”

“That bloody jumper,” Sirius says, and Remus laughs, and it’s comfortable again. “Alright. Give us a kiss first though.”

“Give us a kiss! Call Shakespeare, I think we’ve found a new bard.”


Remus rolls his eyes. “Nothing. A joke above your intellect.”

“I might have to reconsider this,” Sirius says, laughter written across his face, “Your way too mean to me.”

“Be quiet, you tosser,” Remus says, and kisses him.


My endless list of favourite horses: <i><b> Hop And Skip. </i></b> [Ridden by Dirk Schrade.]