Viraha - want or the realization of love arising from separation
Tired and weary down to my soul, I return to the city and to work early the next morning. Part of me wishes that I could call in sick. Forget about facing all people and wallow in my sorrow for a few days. I’d hardly call myself recharged as I drag myself through a shower and prepare to face the day. At least it’s only a half day with students, the last half dedicated to another form of torture – Parent Teacher Conferences.
Somehow, I survive it and trudge home, dreaming of stew and crusty bread on order from Sae’s and a hot bath. I drop my bag on my kitchen table and pull out my phone. The number is programmed and I have the menu memorized by now. Once my food is on its way, I set the phone down, thinking I’ll grab a quick bath to warm up before the food arrives in thirty minutes, but something small and shiny on the table catches my attention.
The bell over the coffee shop door announced Derek’s arrival with a merry jingle a little after 11 in the evening. Derek shuffled the strap of his messenger bag higher on his shoulder and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his leather jacket.
The shop was almost empty at that hour. Only a few students writing their first papers of the new term and a couple of regular night owls were scattered through the shop. His usual seat in the far corner, where he could sit with his back against the wall and keep watch, was open.
Derek dropped his bag on the small table and shrugged his jacket off to drape over the back of his claimed seat. The young woman at the register was new, which could be potentially problematic. Derek didn’t recognize her, but she smiled cheerfully when he approached.
“What can I get you?” she chirped. Her heartbeat fluttered nervously as her scent sweetened with clear want. Definitely problematic.
Derek paused a moment. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. He wasn’t sure his drink had a name.
“Oh, well, we have different speciality coffees and teas,” the barista said and gestured to the menu board behind her. “If you want something-”
“I got this!” Stiles slid out of the back room, arms flailing to keep his balance. “Yo,” he said, greeting Derek with a lazy salute, and Derek snorted. His roommate was ridiculous. “Super awesome Stilinski special as dark as your soul, coming right up.”
“Right,” Derek said, gravitating down the bar towards Stiles. “No cinnamon this time.”
“Sure thing.” Stiles flipped a large paper cup into the air and fumbled to catch it, which made Derek chuckle.
When Stiles called him earlier that year, it had been a bit of a shock. Derek had been living in a cabin upstate that he and Laura had bought years ago. He had finally achieved vengeance for his family when he ripped out Kate’s throat and burned her body deep in the woods, but Beacon Hills wasn’t home anymore, so he hadn’t gone back. Now he wished he had.
At first, Derek hadn’t been sure the small voice on the other end of the phone had actually been Stiles, and not something trying to lure him back to Beacon Hills because the Stiles on the other end of the line had been quiet, almost hesitant, and unsure. As if Stiles hadn’t believed he deserved Derek’s help. Definitely not at all the hyperactive, chatterbox he had left behind. They both carried heavy scars, but that was fine.
Before Derek knew it, he had a new roommate and was driving across the country to pick Stiles up the day he got his diploma. Stiles hadn’t been home since, and the Sheriff was worried.
The barista asked Derek what the drink was so she could ring it up as Stiles ducked out of sight to retrieve milk out of the fridge below the counter.
“I don’t know,” Derek said again. “Something chocolate?”
Derek always had the same drink whenever he came in, but he didn’t know what it was because Stiles had never told him. It probably didn’t have a name. The first time he picked Stiles up, Stiles had whipped something up and shoved it into his hands.
Stiles’ head popped back up over the espresso bar. The steamer hissed to life, and Stiles laughed. “Don’t worry about it, Sam. It’s on me,” he said and winked at Derek.
Derek hadn’t paid for a drink yet.
The drink Stiles handed off to Derek smelled overly sweet and chocolatey, and was piled so high with whipped cream drizzled with chocolate and caramel that the topping threatened to spill over. He wasn’t sure how Stiles knew about his sweet tooth, but he shouldn’t have been surprised.
“Here ya go, big guy,” Stiles said and grinned. “Extra sweet and fluffy. Just like you.”
abuse is funny in the way that all it takes only one word or phrase someone says to you and then its “oops im sorry im suddenly acting so belligerent/mean/rude/meek/mild/fearful towards you im no longer having this conversation with you im having it with an abuser please try again next week when ive stopped seeing you as them”
In honor of Simon and Nahyuta’s first meeting at the case of State vs. Whet, this Saturday, May 13th, is officially Blackmadhi Day!
We will celebrate the wonderful pairing of Nahyuta Sahdmadhi/Simon Blackquill, which first started out as a crackship and has developed into so much more and has brought a lot of awesome people together!
If you want to participate, please do so! Write fics, draw wonderful art, make graphics…whichever! We’ll be using the tag #blackmadhidayfor anyone interested!
Hope to see what awesome content everyone creates in celebration of these two losers whom we all love so much!
Nothing was as it seemed
Is anything though?
The whole thing was dreamed Perplexing pyro show
A case of smoke and mirrors
Ha! That tired old joke
But my atmosphere is clearer
And the mirror’s now broke
I’ll admit there was flair
To the willful charade
But the kind words stop there
The outcome was clichéd
Like the mournful malaise
I fell heartfirst into
Recounting all the sham ways
It managed to slip through
It was such that any fool could see
So what exactly does that make me?
we’re both half-dressed bc we’re trying outfits for something and ur in the middle of taking off ur jeans while i got tangled in my top and now ur trying to help me out of it and somehow we toppled onto the floor with my shirt and ur pants off
we’re both changing in the locker room and you’re sitting on the bench behind me but as i bend over to put my underwear on my naked ass makes full skin-on-skin contact with your back and i’m absolutely mortified
we’re drunk, clothes are off, and somehow we ended up with our limbs tangled together but we’re not dating holy shit what does this mean????
hooking up optional: this one probably involves some form of strip poker/strip truth or dare with everyone passed out before ~sexy times could ensue lmao
i lost my swim trunks/top and now i’m desperately trying to swim for shore to grab a towel but instead i swam straight into your chest i’m so sorry
feel free to continue this list or tag me if you use this prompt~! /o/
Summary: When the reader discovers they’re pregnant, they worry about how Ethan will take it.
Pairing(s): Ethan x Reader
Warnings: Probably some swears.
A/N: This is my first post with a specific gender, so I apologise to all my male and non-binary readers. Also, I am not familiar/keen on the idea of pregnancy so if I get some facts wrong then I’m sorry. I REALLY ran away with this one, it was supposed to be about 500 words tops. Oops!
“Shit,” you hissed, staring down at the plastic stick in your hands. “Shit, shit, shit, shit.”
“Y/N, you almost done in there?” Amy called from the other side of the bathroom door.
“I-I’ll be right out.” You hid the pregnancy test behind your back and opened the door, revealing your best friend.
“Hey, you okay?” She asked, grabbing your arm as you tried to escape. “You don’t look too hot.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, it’s been a long day,” you lied, edging further away from her as she scrutinised you.
Amy crossed her arms and glared at you, her eyes flicking over your form before frowning. “What are you hiding?”
“Nothing, I’m not hiding anything,” you said a little too quickly.
“Bull crap,” Amy snapped. “Tell me what’s going on.”
You sighed in defeat and held out the pregnancy test for her to see. “It’s positive. About three weeks now.”
“Woah,” she breathed. “That’s not what I was expecting.”
“ Me neither. I just- I don’t know what to do.” You fiddled with the white plastic and chewed your lip nervously.
Amy draped an arm around your shoulders gently. “Come on,” she said. “We have a lot to talk about.”
Last night @swearronchanel and I were talking about how our perceptions of Phyllis, and how Phyllis herself, have changed from Series 4 to Series 6, and it led me think about the 2 scenes in the screenshots above.
In episode 4.4, Phyllis Crane was still the new nurse™ and she came across very efficient, but extremely blunt. In the above scene we see an interaction between Shelagh and Phyllis that was quite brusk. Shelagh is filling Phyllis on patients and Phylis tells basically tells her to leave the nursing to the nurses. I remember watching that scene and being ready to fight Phyllis because like how can you be mean to Shelagh she’s such a precious angel. but I digress.
Something that I really love about Call the Midwife is that the characters are all flawed, but also undergo a lot of character growth throughout each series. None of the characters are stagnant, which is something that happens often on television shows I think. Phyllis Crane is no exception, and obviously neither is Shelagh.
From series 4 to series 6, Phyllis and Shelagh’s relationship has changed A LOT. When Phyllis first arrived, she didn’t Shelagh, or her story. She didn’t know that Shelagh was the once one of the most accomplished midwives at Nonnatus. Phyllis was just trying to do her job, and I think she was also trying to leave the emotions out of her work. Throughout series 4 and 5 we saw more interactions between these two nurses, and we actually got to see their relationship change. They went from brusk interactions to being family, just like everyone else at Nonnatus. We never saw Phyllis’s reaction to finding out Shelagh used to be a nun (althought I wsih we did… still salty about it), but I would imagine that when Phyllis found out, her perceptions of Shelagh definitely changed. Phyllis begins to show more respect for Shelagh, and they’re on a more even playing field. Rather than “do your job so the nurses can do ours” its “lets figure out this problem together.” And then, we have the holy grail of Shelagh and Phyllis scenes, in episode 6.8, where Phyllis brings Shelagh into the kitchen to comfort her. In this scene, I think we see just how much admiration Phyllis has for Shelagh, and how respectful the women are of each other now, and I think that’s pretty amazing.
Author’s Note: Tried to make this as gender-neutral as possible. This is my first writing on this blog, I hope it’s okay!! All feedback is appreciated :)
Summary: Soulmate AU where the first thing your soulmate says to you before you say something in return (referred to as one’s Sentence [it can be more than one sentence though] in the fic) is tattooed somewhere on your body. It disappears after you meet your soulmate.
That was the word you’d had tattooed on the back of your left hand since your birth.
In your opinion, it was extremely frustrating to have such a common greeting as your Sentence.
When you were younger, you were always hopeful and enthusiastic whenever you met someone and they’d say ‘hey’ to you, but after so many disappointments, one could understand why you’d get a little annoyed when someone greeted you with ‘hey’.
Some people would see your Sentence before they’d met you and, with the hopes of being your soulmate (or just trying to mess with you), say ‘hey’ before being disappointed that what you said to them next was not their Sentence. Sometimes these unlucky fellows would get angry at you for not saying their Sentence and that usually did not lead to anything good.
Warning: None? Self doubt? There’s one swear word, oops
Summary:Anonymous asked, hey can you do an imagine with carlos from descendants where they both like each other and are too nervous to confess so mal, evie, and jay like put them in a small room and they finally confess and can you make it really cute please
Summary: Your mom forces you to go to a premature holiday party that you would rather not attend. To your surprise, you end up meeting one of your favorite actors, Jared Padalecki.
Word Count: 4520 (oops)
Warnings: Smut!, unprotected sex (wrap it up), oral (female receiving), somewhat public sex, casual drinking, cursing
A/N: There’s a first time for everything! I’ve never written Jared before, but this fic came to me in a dream. Hope you guys enjoy! As always, like/reblog/send me some love if you enjoyed! Tagging some people at the bottom I think may enjoy(:
“Y/N, for the hundredth time, yes you have to come to the party. I’m sick of making up excuses for why you don’t come to events with us.” Your mom sounded so exasperated over the phone, you could practically see her rubbing her temples. Your parents wanted you to come with them to your mom’s best friend’s holiday party around an hour away from your apartment, and you weren’t exactly feeling like going on your first free Saturday in a long time. Plus, the holidays were still three weeks away. Who has a party this early?
“Jake’s not going either!” Throwing your younger brother under the bus wasn’t a classy move, but you grasping at straws here.
“He has a tournament a state away. He can’t help that.”
“But Mom, I don’t think I have time to drive out there. I’m so busy,” you countered.
“You realize we share a Netflix account and that I can see that you’re forty-five minutes into a Black Mirror episode, right?” Shit, caught, you thought. You tried to think of any other excuse that could keep you firmly rooted to your couch for the rest of the weekend, but came up short.
Hope you all know,😞 I’ve never felt welcome here.😤😤😤 You are all ASSHOLES😠 and CISPHOBIC 😡HARD🍆🍆🍆. Go ahead and be pissy💅 and RANT 🙄about how much of a🙃 BITCH I am🙁😖😫, cause I’m beyond caring😒😒😒😒😒. I felt the need to leave🏃🏃 the chat for DAYS 😓because I felt the most UNWELCOME😫 I ever had. 😥😣Go fuck yourselves.🖕🖕 Instead of being CISPHOBIC💪 and being an👎👎 asshole to the only cis person here, 👏grow the fuck up.👔👔🤗
A/N: Some of you wanted a part 2 so this is for all of you :) I hope you like it, I’m not sure how well I did on the fluffy parts but I’m happy with the outcome. I also want to add that if you want to request something I’d be more than happy to write something for you :) Also a couple of people wanted to be tagged so @negasonicteenagemess, @143amberrose and @andyl394 this is for you <3
Summary: Beginning right where we left off, you are faced
with the dilemma of a) not knowing Tony Stark’s number and b) how the hell
you’re going to get an unconscious Spiderman away from the police and to
Words: 1860 (almost double the length of the last one oops)
got to be kidding me.” Here’s the
situation we’re in. Spiderman was currently unconscious in the middle of the
street, the sound of police sirens meant that there was going to cops here any
minute, you were supposed to get hold of Tony freaking Stark AND to top it all
off SPIDERMAN was your god damn soul mate. You tried to steady your breathing,
now was not the time to have a panic attack. “Think Y/N”. Think.” You didn’t
have much time. People were starting to show up around the fight scene.