now that is a telling name


Request: One where he is very protective and a guy is catcalling you and tries touching you and he gets mad and punches the guy.


Your name: Submit What is this?

- - - - 

Shawn closes the door behind you both and walks beside you down the street. He walks a few strides behind you, but you aren’t worried because you know he has long legs that can catch up to you in an instant.

This morning he whispered into your hair, “Y/N, do you want to go out somewhere nice with me today?” And you gladly agreed. He didn’t explain any further details of where exactly the ‘nice’ place is, but you don’t care because you love surprises – and Shawn always has the best surprises.

It’s the little things that Shawn does that make you love him more and more each day. The small gestures and touches you share: they really show you how special what you have together is. You’ve been dating for a while now, but every day he makes it seem like you’re discovering something brand new.

“Slow down, Y/N!” Shawn calls out, sounding quite out-of-breath as runs up to you panting. Laughing, he reaches out for your hand that’s swinging behind you backwards and forwards as you walk. You notice what he’s doing and playfully speed up your walking pace, and stop swinging your arms so he has to jog faster to catch up. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He says to himself under his breath, still laughing at you.

The gap between you both widens and you turn your head round to look at Shawn and give him a small grin. You have no idea why he’s even struggling. He’s probably just pretending to make you laugh: he’s already told you so many times that it’s the best feeling ever when he manages to do that. Not a lot makes you laugh, yet Shawn makes you laugh daily.

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Original #13: I Didn’t Mean To Kill Stan

Length: Short

Note: This story includes sensitive adult themes. 

I really didn’t. Why would I? Stan was my best mate. We’d been friends since high school.

I hadn’t meant to kill him. I just wanted him to shut up. All I did was tap him on the head with my hockey stick, for crying out loud. And then down he went, making a mess along the way. Crashing into stuff, grabbing onto furniture. Do you have any idea how long it’ll take me to clean up all that blood?

Anyway, like I said. Stan was my man. He was my homie, my bromie, my Steve Buscemi. I trusted him with my life. But just now, when I left my room to get a drink, I come back and what the hell do I see? Stan was messing around my laptop. Just clicking on shit and looking at my personal stuff. So right there, it was clear that Stan was in the wrong.

And then what happens? He goes absolutely insane. He starts yelling and calling me names and demanding explanations about some pictures I got on my laptop. In my own house! I tell him to calm down but he wasn’t having any of it. So I did what I gotta do. I shut him up. Maybe a tad too enthusiastically, but it was an honest mistake. Killing him, I mean.

I know what you’re wondering about right now. What pictures?

I’ll come clean, alright? They were pictures of Stan’s sister, Stephanie.  

But, look – it’s not weird. I’m dating her. I’m her boyfriend. So naturally, I’m going to have some pictures of her in my laptop. But Stan doesn’t understand. He’s a great guy, but we don’t see eye to eye on some things. Like Steph.

I first met Steph a year ago. I was at Stan’s crib, just hanging and chatting when this absolute babe walked past the living room. I mean, she was so sexy. Va-va-vroom and all that. The way she moved, the way she carried herself, she had such an air of confidence that impressed me right away.

I knew I had to have her.

But I knew I had to take it slow. I had to gain her trust. Turn on the charm, make her fall back in love with me. So that was exactly what I did. Whenever I was at Stan’s place, I would drop in to Steph’s room and say hello. Gradually she become more comfortable around me, and our conversations grew longer. I learned about her hobbies, her favorite music, her favorite TV shows, and all that.

I also learned that she loved ice-cream. So on our very first date, I brought her out to this really classy ice cream parlour downtown. Bought her her favorite flavour – chocolate chip, in case you’re wondering. After that, we went to the theatre and watched this movie that she had really been looking forward to. It was a great date.

But here’s the thing about Steph. She’s a lovely lady, but she’s very conservative. She doesn’t like, shall I say, the hanky panky business that relationships usually entail. I tried to cop a feel one time on one of our dates and she didn’t go for that at all. Said she wasn’t comfortable.

Here’s what you gotta know about me. I’m a gentleman. If my lady is no ready, then I’ll do the waity. I respected her preferences and our dates remained purely verbal. No tactile movements at all.

But here’s another thing you gotta know about me. I’m a dude. I have needs and desires. So if my lady wasn’t gonna give me action, I gotta get them from somewhere else. But I didn’t wanna cheat on Steph too, so I couldn’t go messing around with other girls.

So I compromised. I went to the hardware store and bought a couple of surveillance cameras. You know, the sort that you can hide in corners and on top shelves to watch people. And they were the good kinds, too. With a click of a button from my laptop, I could take pictures from the livestreaming videos. What can I say? Only the best for my lady. Then one day while Steph was using the loo, I installed them in her room. Easy peasy. One on the top shelf facing her bed, and one on another shelf, facing her closet.

It was all going great. I had tons of fantastic pictures and videos of Steph.

And then Stan had to step in. Almost threw a wrench in my plans, what with all the yelling and hollering. Luckily, there was no one else in my house. I would have hated to remove the cameras from Steph’s room!

So anyway, that’s that. I just wanted to get this off my chest. Stan thought that I’m a bad guy, but I really am not. I truly, truly, love Stephanie from the bottom of my heart.

Speaking of Steph, I really should get going. This entire thing with Stan almost threw my A-game off. I’d almost forgotten that we’ve got tickets to go see Steph’s third grade dance recital. I would have hated to miss that!

anonymous asked:

i'm not the same anon that asked you about crying Yuri but YAAAS please tell us something about Beka being so great or caring in bed that Yura just can't handle it or WHATEVER you want pls and i guess it's the right moment to tell you about how much l love everything you do just THANK YOU SOOO MUCH

Normally in the Mafia AU they have really intense sex, half the time never even waiting to get to a bed, or even home – they can’t wait, they just need each other now. But every once in awhile, there are lazy mornings or nights when Otabek has Yuri in his apartment, or he’s snuck back into the Plisetsky home after “leaving”, where Otabek can just take his time with Yuri. Worship him, tell him in little whispers all the ways he’s made Otabek’s hell of a life something more, kiss him breathless and fuck him until his legs are shaking and all Yuri can say is his name between choked sobs. Anytime Otabek gets intense like that, emotionally intense, Yuri can’t help but cry. He’s been lonely for so long in the mafia AU. 

Pretty Little Liars storyline interpretation

Let me start off by first saying, I loved the finale a lot. I thought it was well thought out and planned FOR THE SEASON 6 AND 7 STORYLINES. I was not expecting answers from seasons 1-6.5. Although, using my imagination and some logical deduction, I can piece some things together. I can tell you now I will forget some things and in all honesty, there are still plot holes and things that don’t make any sense. I just deal with it and respect the story for what it’s worth. I truly believe the whole Charles/Charlotte story was made to extend the series (because ABC family kept renewing it), I’m basing this off the Brendan Robinson interview with ET where he said that storyline was just a filler. Although, I do think the writers did a good job tying Charlotte into the Alex’s storyline. 

  • I’ll begin with Bethany since people seem to have the most questions about her. I view Bethany as a side character who had little relevance other being the girl that was in Alison’s grave. The fact that she killed Toby’s mom is just a screw up on the writers part and I’m willing to let it go. Bethany wandered out that night because she was just psycho. She hated Jessica (for having an affair with her father) and wanted to hurt her. She was hit by Mona and buried alive by Melissa. End of story 
  • Another question was how did Eddie lamb recognize Aria. I believe he simply had seen her face before because of Charlotte. He may have seen her planning the game while in Radley. A stretch but it’s possible. 
  • Okay now on to the good stuff. I’m still a little unclear about why Mary got sent to Radley. Her history with Jessica was a little rushed but it is what it is. Regardless, while in Radley, Mary escaped frequently. Having sex with Peter and Paster Ted getting pregnant both times. 
  • Mary had Charles in Radley and gave the child to her sister Jessica 
  • Mary had Spencer and gave her to Peter and Veronica. She then surprisingly gave birth to another girl which she named Alex, unannounced to everyone. She sold the baby to the doctor (name?) in order to get money to escape from Radley. The doctor found a wealthy family in England for Alex. When her adopted family realized Alex had severe mental issues, they took away her adoptive name and dropped her off at an orphanage. She escaped this orphanage shortly after. 
  • Now skipping ahead a bit. While in Radley, an older Charles (now assumed to be Charlotte) either found Mary’s old file in Radley’s basement or hired someone to do so. That’s how she found out Mary was her mother. This would be the middle-ish of season 3 when Charlotte takes on the name, CeCe “Drake”. 
  • Wren obviously met Charlotte while he was working in Radley. The two became extremely close. Giving her passes in and out of Radley and possibly knowing about the game as well. That could explain his drawings of Red Coat. 
  • Wren meets Alex in a bar around the middle or end of season 4. Alex tells him her story and Wren tells Alex about Charlotte. Wren then calls Charlotte and tells her about Alex. I believe this is the first time Charlotte finds out she has a sister. The birth of Alex could have been left out of Mary’s file because of the level of secrecy. 
  • At the end of 5x01, Charlotte flies to Paris and meets Archer. Archer is in love with her. While at the airport, Wren calls Charlotte to tell her where to meet her sister, Alex for the first time. 

And now for some random odds and ends 

  • Alex’s motive is way more satisfying than Charlotte’s. Alex had severe mental issues, just like her mother. She got the short end of the stick. She was the forgotten one left for nothing. Once she met Wren and he told her about Spencer, she became extremely envious. She wanted the life Spencer had, wanting to become Spencer in the end.She also wanted revenge for Charlotte’s death (aka the game) 
  • Alex killed Wren because he could only see her as “Alex” and not Spencer. 
  • Alex poisoned Yvonne to begin her deception with Toby. 
  • Alex choose to kidnap Ezra not only because he was on to her, but so she could have Aria all to herself. 
  • Jenna, Noel, Sydney, & Sara were simply just helpers, as explained by Alex
  • I believe Melissa knew some things simply because of her connection with Wren. Did she know about Alex? Possibly but who really knows. 
  • Wren was more involved than what we’re lead to believe. He knew (and maybe even helped) about Charlotte’s game and became a very active accomplice to Alex. Which explains while A.D had all the doctor connections. 

I know I’m missing some things but I needed to write this in order to get most of it out of my head. Hope you enjoyed!!!


The world didn’t end.
No. It didn’t.

She starts awake, her breathing sharp and shallow. Across the room – someone’s office, once – Will is asleep on the floor, snoring lightly. He’s been spending more and more nights out in the trailer. She wishes he wouldn’t – it’s less secure – but also, she can’t imagine what it would have been like to share a room with her mother at eighteen, so she doesn’t fight it.

For a few long minutes, Scully stares at the ceiling. She has that dream more nights than she doesn’t. The world didn’t end, he’d said, his voice pleased and faintly surprised.

The end of the world came for them eventually. It still feels like she should have known.

Scully goes out into the courtyard. In the middle of the night the moon is a sliver, dead center in the sky.

The members of today’s caravan assembled their tents in a rough circle around the edges of the courtyard, and most of them are dark and quiet. But there’s still a candle flickering in the psychic’s tent.

There was a time when she saw signs everywhere; there was a time she believed in them.

Before Scully gets close, the tent flap opens and the woman peers out. “Come on in,” she says, all drawl, her voice smooth as honey.

The woman even looks like Melissa. Auburn hair in loose curls, long eyelashes.

Scully suddenly regrets everything. “I was just—”

“I know,” the woman says. “Psychic, remember?”

“I don’t believe in that.”

The woman stares at her evenly. “You did once.”

“You don’t know what I believe.”

The woman closes her eyes, and Scully has to fight the urge to turn her back and walk away. This faux-mystic shit. She can’t stand it. “I remind you of someone,” the woman says, her voice low, melodic.

Scully snorts. “Good guess. Everyone reminds everyone of someone.” Now that most of the referents are dead.

“Your sister,” she continues, like Scully hadn’t spoken at all. “A mistake. It was a mistake.” When her eyes open again they are bright, curious. “She died for you.”

“I’m not interested,” she says flatly, though her presence here marks her a liar. “In any of this.”

“The cards have something to tell you,” the woman says, sing-song. “If you’ll listen. Dana.”

Scully stiffens. She almost checks for a name badge on her shirt, remembering all the over-familiar patients who’d addressed her by her first name when she was practicing, but of course she’s not wearing one.

Pulling a deck of cards out from her pocket, the psychic says, “What can it hurt?”

Melissa said that to her once. Years and years ago, maybe in high school. They’d been at a carnival and Missy got her palm read. “She’s good,” she’d said, her eyes even dreamier than usual. “Come on, Dana. What can it hurt?”

Back then, Scully said no. There was no science in it, none at all. She was better than that, even at fourteen; there was nothing a palm reader could tell her that she couldn’t figure out for herself.

What can it hurt? she hears again, even though the woman’s lips don’t move at all. Scully saw her father’s ghost, once. There’s something twisted about paying more heed to her sister’s ghost than she ever had to the woman herself, but Scully brushes past it and follows the psychic into her tent.

“I’m Crystal,” the woman says, and Scully has absolutely no power over the derisive snort that escapes her. Of course she’s named Crystal. The woman hands over the deck. “Shuffle,” she says, and Scully does: expertly, precisely. She has never done anything halfway. “Think of your question. You don’t have to tell me. Stop when you’re ready.”

Crystal takes the cards back and cuts the deck. She peels three cards off the top of the deck and places them on the ground between them.

One by one, the woman turns the cards over. She looks at them for a long minute, her brow knit in concentration, lips moving just slightly. Whatever she’s saying, it’s not meant for Scully.

Looking down at the cards, Scully feels the hairs on her arms rise all at once, a tingle at the base of her skull. All of this is bullshit, she reminds herself.

The first card draws her attention. A man suspended from a gallows, his arms crossed. Against her better judgement she shudders.

The woman taps Scully on the knee, waiting until their eyes meet to speak. “It’s not as bad as it looks. The Hanged Man means – sacrifice. Giving of yourself to others. In this position, it’s your starting place. You’ve dedicated yourself to a higher cause, without expectation of anything in return.”

Her fingers trail along the blanket to the next card. “And here – the Page of Swords. A message, traveling swiftly. You’ll get the news you’re waiting for, soon enough.” She glances up again like she’s expecting a response, but Scully stays silent. The candle drips wax onto the third card, and the woman brushes it away.

“This last one is the Seven of Wands,” she says, her lips twisting. “There’s strife in your future, and you’ll have to stand your ground, whatever comes. It’s a defensive card – see, how he’s fending them off – but it’s a strong one.” She hesitates, running her finger along the edge of the card while she thinks. “Things are in motion. You have more control than you think you do.”

Scully licks her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. “Pull one more,” she says, and the woman’s eyes flash up to her for just a second before she complies.

Crystal turns the card over and nods, pursing her lips. “The Knight of Swords.”

For a long moment she’s silent, until Scully gives in. “Yes?”

“This card can represent a situation, but yours is a person, I think. A truth-seeker. Strong, but reckless. He’s interesting, with the Page. They could represent the same person, or two different people – a child and a champion, or the messenger and the message.” She looks down at the cards again, laid side by side, and nods. “Either way. News is coming.”

She won’t even let herself think it, so it’s not a conscious decision to say the words out loud. “Is it the news I want?”

The woman shakes her head. “That’s not something I can see. Everything is in your hands. All the cards can do is give you a warning, if you’re willing to listen. Are you?”

No, she thinks. And yes.

Scully stands up and ducks out of the tent. She hadn’t realized how hot it was inside; the night air is so cool on her skin that it feels like rain.

“Dana.” When Scully turns around, the psychic is crouched in the doorway, looking up at the stars. She says, “Don’t give up.”


word count: 1,831 words
story peek: “i’ll see you around, parker.” sequel to oops. (requested)
tags: @thatisstilltheterm @devilsdaughter1225

(Name)’s mouth was still tingling when she walked into the cafeteria and took a seat across from Makenzie at their signature lunch table.

“What the hell have you been doing?” Kenzie asked, her eyebrows furrowed together as she took in her friend’s slightly swollen lips and somewhat messy hair.

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A Court of Spring and Stars Pt. 2

Word Count: 2085


The wind hits my face in a rush, smelling of vanilla and roses as I fly through the dark, starlit skies. I shouldn’t be out so late, flying alone at such a late hour, but I couldn’t help it. I felt that tugging, that thing inside me telling me to go for a flight.

So here I am, flying in the dark with the strangely sweet-scented wind mussing my dark hair. I can’t pretend that it doesn’t feel good to stretch my wings and it’s not like I was getting anymore sleep tonight. Not after the dream.

I always have the same dream. Of a young girl running ahead of me, slightly-curly, blonde hair flying behind her in the wind, and singing. Singing such lovely songs, always different and always beautiful.

Sometimes they’re sad songs that make me want to wrap her in my arms forever and never let her go and other times they’re love songs that make me want to take her in my arms and dance with her, spinning her around for as long as she’ll let me.

But I never see her face at the end of these dreams.

I can’t pretend I haven’t tried to picture what she should look like and try to draw or paint her. It never worked out. I can only ever draw her running away from me. Maybe one day she’ll run towards me.

I sigh and turn around as I see the sun starting to rise.

I fly onto the balcony of my room in the townhouse in Velaris and quickly lose my wings. I collapse on my bed and go over tonight’s dream in my head.

It started out quiet, only the crickets humming, then I heard it. Her lilting, silvery voice faintly singing.

You’re the lullaby
That’s singing me to sleep
You are the other half
You’re like a missing piece

I raced after the voice, trying to find it’s source. I ran so fast I was sure she could hear my feet slapping from wherever she was.

Oh my love
Oh my love
Oh my love
You don’t know
What you do to me

Her voice was louder then, closer. I thought I saw a strand of golden hair a few feet away, disappearing into the treeline.

You are all four seasons
Rolled into one
You’re like the cold December snow
In the warm July sun

I saw her then. Her golden skin, her long silky hair, her petite form, the light blue dress that flowed behind her.

And she was running again, but not towards me.

I’m the jet black sky
That’s just before the rain
Like the mighty current
Pullin’ you under the waves

That song. If only she had slowed down. If only I could have caught her. I would pull her close and show her just how true it was.

Oh my love
Oh my love
Oh my love
You don’t know
What you do to me

Slow down. I chanted in my mind. Slow down. Let me catch you. Let me see your face.

I nearly caught her, my hand slipped through a wisp of golden hair.

That was the end of the dream.

I sigh and look out my window only to find that the sun has completely risen. Time to head to breakfast.

I stroll out of my room and downstairs, admiring the paintings that hang along the walls as I go. Most are my mother’s and only a few are mine. I’m afraid my artistic skills aren’t as on point as my mother’s but I love painting and sketching so I continue.

I pause briefly when I catch a glimpse of the only painting of my mystery girl that I ever let my parents see.

The painting features the young girl running away into a deep, emerald green forest with golden curls and a plum dress flying behind her in the mystery of the dark of night - most of the dreams are set in the middle of the night - a shower of stars shining above her head.

I only showed them that one because I thought the plum dress made her match with the night making her look like a wisp or spirit of the night. They were so proud, my mother’s eyes shown and my father thought it deserved to go next to her works of art.

When I step into the dining room Aunt Nesta slaps a heaping plate of blueberry pancakes and syrup with a glass of milk at my usual seat at the table.

“Eat, now.”

I smile and salute her. “Yes, ma'am.”

She glares but sends me a smile as I sit down and dig in, barely tasting the pancakes before I swallow them.

“Please chew before swallowing. If you choke, your mother will kill me.”

I nod, but keep eating them the way I was before.

Uncle Cassian walks in and his eyes widen while his mouth makes an ‘o’ shape, “Where’d you get those?” then his eyes find Aunt Nesta. “How come you never make me blueberry pancakes?”

She shrugs and says, “I didn’t know dogs ate pancakes.” but even as she says it I can see love glinting in her eyes.

He pouts at her and she rolls her eyes, walking into the kitchen. She returns with a plate for him too.

He digs in and mumbles, “I knew I loved you for a reason.”

She snorts. “I love you even though you never make me blueberry pancakes.”

He looks up from his plate. “I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to the pancakes.”

She cocks her head. “Well then, looks like my darling nephew is the only one getting pancakes from now on.”

I chuckle as he narrows his eyes at me. “I’ll fight you for the right to the pancakes.”

My mother’s voice floats into the room, “Please don’t fight my son over pancakes.” I look behind me and see my parents standing in the doorway watching us with amusement.

I stand and walk my now finished plate to the sink in the kitchen and stride back to the dining room. I nod my head towards my parents. “You ready to go?”

My father rolls his eyes. “As ready as I can be.”

My mother gets a far-away, pained look. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for the Spring Court.”

I always hate when spring comes if only because it reminds my mother of her time at the Spring Court. She sometimes gets these sad looks and has different nightmares than her usual ones. This visit is going to be horrible for her and it’s really going to test mine and my father’s control. I might actually try to kill the High Lord because of the shit he put my mother through. But we need this, we need to try to fix the strained relationship between our Courts.

I look up from my thoughts to see my father cupping my mother’s cheek and looking deep into her eyes. Sometimes they stare at each other for hours, not talking just staring. Their mind-speak gets creepy sometimes, but I know that right now my father is telling my mother about how we’ll always be right next to her and how much he loves her and how much her children love her.

That’s right, children. I’m the oldest of three. Everybody thinks that my mother being human before being High Fae makes her able to conceive easier than a normal Fae. My younger siblings are twins. Stella and Aedon, Aedon was named after my mother’s father, they’re only eight years old and they’re total pests. Aunt Elain and Uncle Az are going to watch them while we’re gone.

I walk up to my parents and place my hand on my mother’s shoulder. “Mom, we should probably go.”

She nods and turns away from my father to face us all. “Do I look scary enough?”

She’s wearing an all-black, quarter-sleeved dress that shimmers like diamonds in the sunlight whenever she moves and she has her hair up with her crown tucked into it. She likes to think that all the black and the crown makes her look scary, but I think it just complements her and makes her look prettier.

But I indulge her. “If you looked like that when you used to scold me I might I have run away screaming from your terrifying appearance.”

My father winks over her shoulder, casting an approving glance at the comment, as my mother smiles and kisses my cheek.

She grabs my hand and my father’s hand, ready to winnow out, but stops and glares at my aunt and uncle, “Please don’t destroy our house while we’re gone.” and we winnow away.

The darkness pulls around us and I marvel, as I always do, at the magic that sends us to a completely different place in seconds. I see starbursts in the darkness and suddenly we land in a room decorated in emerald green and gold tapestries and rugs.

As I survey the room, I feel something tugging, the same tugging I feel that makes me fly in the middle of the night. Tugging me towards the furthest side of the room.

I see a man with a sneer on his face seated in a throne on a dais. Tamlin. High Lord of Spring. Abuser of my mother. My fists curl of their own accord before I can stop them. I’ve never seen nor met this man before but I want to bash his face in.

But then I see her and I freeze, unable to even let out the gasp that clogs my throat.

A young girl standing with her back to me. Golden curls spill down her back and her tan skin stands out against her pale pink gown.

I’ve seen that back a thousand times. Always running away from me. Always in a dream.

I hear my mother’s voice pierce the silence of the room.  "Hello, Tamlin, it’s been awhile.“

I feel my father’s eyes on me and I know he’s already compared this young girl to the one in the painting and wants to know how exactly I painted someone I’ve never met. Well, I want to know how I dreamed of someone I’ve never met.

But then the girl turns around and I swear I forget how to breath. I’m seeing her face for the first time and I swear she’s an angel.

She keeps her head down but I can still make out her facial features. Her sharp oval face looks full and healthy and - even though she has dark circles under her almond-shaped eyes - her green eyes look lively as she takes us in as her full, archer’s bow lips part in awe.

She even more beautiful than I imagined.

Her eyes roam over us, studying us and they widen as she looks over my father and I, probably noting how similar we look, but then she gasps and realization races into her eyes.

Her eyes widen even more as she looks at my mother and father in awe. It’s when her eyes roam over me again that I lose the ability to speak, otherwise I would introduce myself.

Head still bowed, those jade eyes roam from my head to my toes in awe, maybe even attraction or at least appreciation, and I realize I stand at least a head taller than her, maybe more, she’s so tiny. Short and thin like a twig - she doesn’t have the curves that most of the Night Court and Illyrian women seem to have - and it makes me wonder if maybe she doesn’t eat as much as she should, like how my mother ate when she was here.

I realize I’m searching, searching for any reason to believe she’s actually the girl from my dreams - the girl I draw every day - other than how similar she looks from behind, when her eyes slowly meet mine.

She’s gaping and as she notices that I’m staring at her as much as she’s staring at me she slowly closes her mouth and a pretty redness flames her cheeks. Damn, she’s gorgeous when she blushes.

She bows her head again. I wish she would stop doing that, I’ve been waiting over a year to see the girl from my dreams in person and now I can barely see her face. But then she slides into a curtsy and I hear the silvery voice that always sings in my dreams say, "Welcome to Spring Court.”

Note: So the song lyrics are not mine, the song is Northern Wind by City and Colour. Um, I’m really happy about all the support I’ve been getting from all of you. You’re all amazing! Thank you all! I have some shoutouts: @eliza-hamilton-helpless @aelin-and-feyre @nerdofmanypages @highladyofthedark @fandoms-things-stuff @pleasantlysecretpeach and @bluephoenix222. Please follow these amazing people and please comment on the story. Give me theories as we go along and some constructive criticism. Thx, much love to all of y’all!

One Night to Confess

Summary: When people get drunk, bad things usually happens. Well, not for everyone, but for you, yes. It was the first time you drank that much and bad luck made sure that at the same evening the person you loved called you. And unfortunately you told him things so embarrassing you want to disappear. Like confessing your love to him on the phone.

Requested? Yes, by anon

Pairing: Reader x Derek Hale

Word count: 1861

A/N: Okay I was a bit tired when I started writing this imagine so I’m not really sure about it, but I hope y’all like it! (the gif isn’t mine, credit to owner)

It should’ve been just a normal evening. A calm evening with a few friends that mysteriously turned into a party where the whole city seemed to be invited. So obviously alcohol made its way somehow to the house. Everywhere around you there were now people of your age having fun, dancing and drinking. And you? You were looking at them, uncertain. Everyone seemed to have fun and you wanted to try. You never really drink alcohol, not that you didn’t like the taste, but you had never felt the need to drink much. So you never got drunk.

And you had no idea what the effects of alcohol could have on you.

“Y / N!” Your best friend came behind you, making you jump. You were very focused on your glass of beer that remained untouched. You still hesitated to let yourself go.

“Hey,” you greeted her without leaving the amber liquid as the party went on without you in the house.

“You’re not drinking?” She asked you, taking a drink for herself and hopping to the rhythm of the music, inviting you to do the same.

"I don’t know …” You told her before confessing that you never got drunk and that you were a little scared.

“Y / N. "Your friend told you seriously before drinking her whole glass, grinning and looking at you. "How can you never have drink? Go! Enjoy it, it’s party! ”

You smiled at her and she gave you a friendly pat on the shoulder to encourage letting yourself go. You looked one last time around you and saw them again, teenagers who seemed to have so much fun. So you made your decision.

You wanted to have fun like them.

You drank your whole glass under the victorious cries of your best friend, proud of you.

One, two, three, four, you lost the count, but damn it was good. You didn’t understand what held you back all this time, it was like you had no worries, you could do everything. Like you were invincible and everyone was at your mercy.

After a while, a little tired of dancing and feeling kinda hot, you decided to go take some air. You hadn’t had so much fun for a long time, it felt so good to let go!

You had just come out in the fresh air when your phone rang. You glanced on the touchscreen to see who could call you so late at night … or was it the morning? Your phone also indicated the time, but stuffed as you were, you couldn’t see what numbers were displayed because everything was tangled. And you took at least a minute to decipher the name of the person who was calling you.

Usually, you would have been excited if he called you. Your heart would have beaten so hard and for a second, you would have blushed. The person who called you at that particular time was the person you were in love with. So in love and so incapable of confessing to him. But alcohol came to your head and it was late, or very early. That’s why, despite the danger of saying things that you would forget or regret the next day, you answered Derek.

“Heyyyy Derek!” You saluted him, staggering on the street in front of the house where the party took place.

"Y / N? Everything is fine?” His grave, hoarse voice said in the hollow of your ear and you imagined him for a moment whispering softly words … or exciting ones. You laughed for no reason, raising the doubts Derek already had.

"Y / N you’re drunk?”

“Nooooooooooooon, I don’t see what you’re talking about, Der, me, drunk? Pffff, you know me better than that,” you added as you sat on the sidewalk feeling the world turn around you. “Hey Derek you know what. ”

Your mouth was pasty and you had trouble talking, but you weren’t going to stop. Your filter was gone, burying under the numbing effects of alcohol.

“When the sun rises on Beahon Cills …. Beacon Hills … it’s … as beautiful as your smile because … because you rarely smile like the sun rarely radiates but as soon as you smile I can tell you that my heart shine!” You tell him, proud of your blow.


"You don’t know what to say uh!”

“Y / N, you’re drunk, I’ll call you back later,” he started but you didn’t let him finish.

“Wait, Der … Derek! I have to tell you uhm something imtorpant … important! ”

You heard him sigh at the other end of the line.

“ I’m in love with you! ”

And it was only on the next morning that you realized what you had done.

“Oh shit …” You mumbled with your pillow against your face in an attempt to stop the world from turning. You’re head hurt so much, it was horrible, as if someone was hammering on your head and every blow sounded and gave you migraine even more.

But the worst wasn’t nausea or your head about to explode. It was all you said to Derek on the phone and you remembered that too well. You had loudly declared your love for Derek Hale, using your poetess talents, singing how beautiful his beauty was, even more beautiful than the sun itself and how successful he was in making you happy with almost nothing. That your friendship was the most perfect thing for you and that the love you held for him was, in your opinion, as indestructible and magnificent as a rough diamond.

And the worst?

The worst thing was that he rejected you. Again and again. Until you were too tired and hang up to get home by taxi.

Shame and sorrow lived in you. You told him. Confess everything. And now he knew, he had rejected you and he would laugh at you or worse, he would tell the whole pack your pitiful speech.

You would’ve liked to disappear in your mattress and never leave this hiding place again. But you had to leave your room one day. You glanced from under your pillow to catch your cell phone and grunted under the sudden light.

It was past noon, but it wasn’t what marked you. It was rather the notifications of missed text messages and calls. The name of the person was written on a white painful light that in this situation was very dark.

Derek Hale.

You put your pillow back and shouted all your embarrassment in it. The day was going to wait.

You did your best to avoid him. As soon as you knew he was around or somewhere near, you would immediately go in the opposite direction. Your friends and the pack found your behavior strange and even worried about you. You had become almost paranoid, seeing Derek everywhere and imagining a discussion with him after everything you had said. And that thought alone managed to put you in a bad state, embarrassed enough to want to bury you alive. You ignored all his messages and his calls.

And obviously, the inevitable happened.

Derek stuck you a few days later after classes, gym class to be precise. Your best friend, that traitor, knew your feelings about Derek and planned everything with him. After gym class, while you were in the shower, she pricked your clothes. So of course you waited until the locker rooms were empty to take out a towel and look for your clothes that your friend had put in your locker. And it’s by going back into the showers and grumbling that your vengeance was going to be terrible that you finally put your clothes on. But what you didn’t expect, on the other hand, is the muscular silhouette that awaited you and that blocked the only exit. You didn’t need to look at him twice to recognize him, only a glance was enough to know it was him. His build, his way of standing with his arms crossed. And you had nowhere to fly, no excuse to give him without looking suspicious of something.

You were trapped. Your friend was really going to pay for it!

“Y / N,” Derek began walking toward you and your heart began to pound as the red rose to your cheeks when you heard your first name pronounced by his mouth. The embarrassment was read all over your face like an open book. “We need to talk about the other night. ”

“What night?” You avoided his question by feigning ignorance, while slowly retreating.

“The one I called you and you were drunk.” He added with that serious look of him.

"Ah? I don’t remember any call,” you lied. “Besides, I don’t remember anything about that night,” you added, pointing your head with a nervous smile. You stepped back as he walked toward you. And you knew that soon the wall was going to stop you from escaping.

Suddenly, Derek stopped moving forward and leaned his head to one side, a slight smile on the corner of his lips.

“When the sun rises on Beacon Hills,” He began with a slight smile. "It’s as beautiful as your smile because …” He went on. “Because you rarely smile like the sun rarely radiates but as soon as you smile I can tell you that my heart shines.” He finished before regaining his seriousness and raising his eyebrows. "You don’t remember that?”

The tears invaded your eyes without being able to hold them back. Of course you remembered it, you didn’t avoid him for nothing! But him doing all that, organize that plan to get yourself in the locker room only to make fun of you, it was too much.

You were already embarrassed. Now you were really hurt.

“I hate you …” You muttered as you picked up your gym bag and headed for the exit, but Derek blocked you.

“Derek let me go,” you say calmly, trying as much as possible to hold back the sob of shame that rose in your throat.

“I’m in love with you,” was all he said and stayed where he was. A true marble statue. He was still laughing at you about what you said to him on the phone, you knew it.

“Stop …” You tell him trying to pass by him, but he held you back by putting his hands on your shoulders.

“No, you don’t understand,” Derek said. “I’m in love with you too. ”

You looked up at him without understanding, his face so close to yours.

“But you rejected me …”

“You were drunk, Y / N. I wasn’t going to confess my feelings and wondering if you would remember the next day. ”

This time it wasn’t tears of sadness and shame that invaded your eyes but rather relief. Your eyes remained magnetized for long seconds before your mouths came toward each other for a sweet chaste kiss.

“So it’s true that my smile is …” Derek started, smiling.

“Shhh …” You laughed, giving him a friendly tap on his chest before hugging him.

this bitch

god im sorry i say umm so much anyway i was tagged by @blessedkeith, @shiroqanetakashi, and @life-death-thepursuitofhappiness :^)

  • name and url
  • tell us a little about yourself
  • how did you get into voltron?
  • had you seen any of the earlier shows before watching legendary defender?
  • favorite character?
  • what are your ships, if any?
  • what are you hoping to see in future seasons?
  • favorite episode?
  • which lion would you pilot?
  • say the following words: shiro, keith, lance, pidge, hunk, allura, coran, zarkon, kerberos, galra, arus, altea, balmera, quintessence

i tag uhhh @marmoraskeith @stargazershiro @lorazeli @lvtvr @cogane @cryopods @planced @galrahunks @shcith @piningmarco@pureren @keithkoqane @jackalopesart and uhh anyone else who wants to is now honorarily tagged

Imagine Jim Moriarty's ghost haunting you.

Day after day, months after months, for almost a year, he had done everything a ghost can do.

- Move furniture in the middle of the night ✓
- Randomly switch the lights on and off ✓
- Open the doors and cupboards ✓

I could go on and on, but something tells me that you would not bear with me. The point is that it has been almost an entire year, and despite all his efforts, you still have not realised that he is haunting you!

If he weren’t crazy, it would make him mad… But right now he has an idea. Why shouldn’t he simply introduce himself through your telly?

“My name’s Jim Moriarty and I’m dead. Hi.”

Thank you for reading! LLAP - RS

anonymous asked:

I don't care aboyt her avatar and I know and you know and everyone who said things aimed at Gillian in hurt none of us would just sit and take it. We would all talk back or tell people to fuck off. I mean we should've expected her to have something to say to us after a week of calling her crazy, a mess, that she has lost her mind, she is ridiculous, she is a loser, and she has herself to blsme, that she wanted her pussy out for the world to see, her titties too. I mean we all would get angry!

We definitely would all be angry. But that’s the difference between she and us. We are nobodies. We are the fans, and she’s the idol. We’re the employees and she’s the boss. We’re children and she’s the parent. She’s in control. We’re not. We’re playing by her rules. Give me one example where a celebrity treating her fans with anger and resentment ended well. Just one. There’s none. If we mess up, and we probably did at some point, she can’t just tell us to fuck off. This is not how it’s supposed to work, and not how it’s supposed to calm people down. It’ll just raise more anger, more insults, more name calling, more drama. It has been two days without pictures, people started to chill and forgive. How is that a good thing to set up this icon now?

Gillian keeps saying every time she can that she doesn’t read anything about her on social media and in the press, and doesn’t give a fuck. How is being that petty and angry not giving a fuck? If she really didn’t care, she would have never put this icon. But as she does seem to care, I do not think telling her own fans to fuck off is the solution. It never is. She used to talk to us, post messages on GAWS, genuine ones. She used to use words. Tell us what made her happy and what upset her, even when it was her fans’ behavior. People can understand words. When you get a thoughtful explanation on things telling you what you did wrong, and why that or this happened, you swallow back your anger and deal with it more easily. It’s human.  When you’re upset and all you get is someone you love and admire telling you to fuck off, you just get more upset and that’s where boundaries start to be crossed. 

She’s here now, on Tumblr, where the most part of her fandom is too. She has this wonderful social media tool allowing her a lot more than 140 characters to express her feelings in the best way, with words. But she keeps communicating with hidden petty messages. That is more than upsetting and disappointing. I understand her anger perfectly, but ours is valid too. 

belugalord  asked:

ok, so i was planning on making a play based on your album "the Masquerade", with some of the main characters being you, ryan, and a few trans people i know, including myself. basicly, for act one, your character would go by Jordan, act two, j, and act three, judy, but now that seems a little backwards. (especially all the symbolism and such, just... doesn't work as well anymore.) so can i still finish this, or no? TL;DR: Im making a play about u being trans. can i still make it?

I mean… tbh it kinda would have been in poor taste to do that anyway. You really shouldn’t flaunt a trans person’s dead name so openly unless they specifically tell you it’s okay, and in my case it was very much not okay. So no, I’d rather you didn’t finish this, at least not the way you’ve described it.

Free Pendulum Readings

Hey there lovely beings! I am going to start offering my free readings again tomorrow! Here is what I offer

-Yes/No/Maybe/not sure readings -Guardian Archangel Readings (who is guarding you right now and what advice do they have for you right now) -Chakra (Energy Center) readings. I tell you if each one is Balanced, over work, or under active. I also will give suggestions on how to balance!

These will be what I am offering! For the Arachangel and energy center readings I will need a nickname or name to go by. That way I can connect to your specific beings energy (not in an invasive way) just in a more accurate way. It does not have to be your real name just something I can use as a link!

You may go ahead and send them to my asks and if you want it private just message me in my inbox! I will get to them tonight and tomorrow.

Originally posted by nonablog

anonymous asked:

TAG. YOU'RE IT. The rules are to state 5 random facts about yourself. Then go to ten favorite blogs and tell them they are it! *-* (if you've done this, do it again ;D)

1. Favorite animal is the red panda.
2. I have a fat cat named Totoro. Pretty sure we doomed her to be hefty by naming her that
3. I don’t hate my job but it’s rather boring & fairly annoying
4. My stepfather is legally blind & now he’s watching my daughter 1-2 days a week for me. I had to explain to her last week why it’s important not to ever move grandpas stuff from its exact spot where he left it
5. My first & last initials are both D & I have a client that always calls me & says something along the lines of “Hey, is this the double D?!” & I have to try not to laugh until I hang up because he obviously doesn’t think about what else that means when he says it :p

These are lame facts. My life is dumb. Sorry but I never know what to put that y'all don’t already know! Thanks for sending, grayface ♥️

Dejiah Archie-D.

Deja is an art student that attends Columbus College of Art (CCAD), she majors in fine arts. She has had art as an interest since she was young, but did not engage in it until her sophomore year of high school. As a start, she sketched in her sketchbook and learned about mediums. The first interest she had in art was acrylic paint, mainly because it was the cheapest at the art store that she came to love. Deja soon found herself taking many art classes (ceramics, film, and photography), painting with friends, and redrawing her favorite cartoon characters. When asked how did she get to where she is with art she said,”I believe allowing myself to experiment with different mediums led me to be where I am now as an artist.” Through doing a piece named “Judgement Day” (picture below) Deja learned she liked to tell stories through art as a career, which includes issues rising in society. For example, “Judgment Day” is based on Cleveland which is not the best part of our city. I asked her what/who inspires her from Cleveland she said, “One of the most memorable pieces I remember that stuck with me forever was Andy Warhol’s “Marylin Diptych” and Martin Creed’s “Half the given air in common space” back in 2012, both displayed at Cleveland Museum of Art.” She loved the repetition in their pieces, which gave her inspiration in color theory. Her first art show is coming up soon, August 4th, it is a women entrepreneurship event held in Columbus, Ohio. There will be vendors and guest speakers both from Cleveland and Columbus. Deja will be able to sell work and connect with other artists. With the show coming up soon Deja said,”This will be something great for me but, really it’s just about helping others around me. I see potential in a lot of situations, and I just want people to know that they are not limited to anything. Making small changes within myself and within my work is what pushes me to be more creative.” I personally hope that Deja and all her colleagues have a great time and make many connections. In five years, Deja would like to have her MFA, she would like to continue making art but maybe not in Ohio, and she hopes her art is more noticeable to others. In my opinion, I think she is a great artist me and she used to attend high school together. I remember seeing her art around the school. I think she is very talented and she stands out. I liked her Judgement Day piece a lot and, many of her other pieces. links to her info will be below, and some of her art.

-“Judgement Day”






anonymous asked:

For the send me a pairing can you please do Conman/Kleinphy?

hgjasjdhgashjgf kleinphy is such a bad ship name oh my god its perfect for them

  • proposes - it’s jared and he’s super nervous about it but connor says yes literally the second he drops to his knee,, jared is like ‘i mean i had a whole speech prepared…” “tell me later now just shut up and make out with your future husband” “DEAL”  
  • shops for groceries - jared’s problem is over eating and connors problem is undereating so jared usually takes over shopping trips to try and get more of the stuff he knows connor will eat becus if left to himself he’ll just get what jared wants 
  • kills the spiders - connor and then he chases jared around the house with the dead spider 
  • comes home drunk at 3am - jared is for sure the big drinker,, he goes out to drink away his problems a lot more than he should and always comes home to a very sympathetic connor whos been in the same position high too many times to count,,, they take care of each other always and make sure the other knows someone is there for them 
  • remembers to feed the fish - Jared is the one who remembers but its usually after theyve already gone to bed and he just kinda pushes connor and tells him to ‘go feed the fucking fish’,,, connor will either be already awake and get up to feed it or be dead asleep and shove jared out of bed in retaliation 
  • initiates duets - jared loves to sing and he LOVES connors singing voice so he sings one half of a duet constantly to try to get connor to sing along,,, he didnt for a long time becus he doesnt think he can sing well at all but as time went on and he feel more in love and got more comfortable he started joining in every so often (connor: *sings*,  jared: 😍😍😍) 
  • falls asleep first -fully depends on whether connor is manic or not,, if hes manic then always jared but if hes depressive then he probably been sleep for hours long than he shouldve been already
  • plans spontaneous trips - becus connor would stay inside the rest of his life if possible jared takes the initiative to actually
  • wakes the other up at 3am demanding pancakes - jared but he doesnt wake connor up,, his two big stress things are drinking and eating so when hes reallly overwhelmed he’ll wake up in the middle of the night for either a beer or some food. connor almost always notices hes gone and wakes up to go see whats wrong,, jared usually makes enough for two for this reason and they spend an hour or two eating together and talking about whats bugging him 
  • sends the other unsolicited nudes -connor for sure will send like jokey nudes just to fuck with jared (like nothing below the belt with rly silly captions) but unbeknowest to him jared saves every single one becus he honestly thinks its hilarious and he loves his bfs sense of humor (when hes feeling down he’ll scroll through those pics and other texts hes saved from connor that make him laugh) 
  • brags about knowing karate even though they never made it past yellow belt - JARED ADSHKJAKJD he acts like he could kick your ass but no fucking way the boy is a chickenshit!!! connor doesnt know how to fight either but he’ll actually try to back up his shit talk regardless of skill 
  • comes to a complete halt outside bakeries/candy shops - connor actually hes a big sweets guy when it comes to the munchies and he always tries to get stocked up on the best sweets and treats in town  
  • blows sarcastic kisses after doing ridiculous shit - they both do they almost compete at it and its extremely tiring for everyone else around 
  • killed the guy (also, which hid the body) - connor will constantly joke about straight up murdering somebody and hes just like ‘if i do will u help me hide the body?’ and jareds just like ‘no!!………………okay i mean yeah probably.’ 
  • wears the least clothing around the house - jared but only becus connor refuses not to wear long sleeves most of the time 
  • has icky sentimental moments for no apparent reason - jared catches himself getting real sappy real quick sometimes,, he tries not to show it but he usually ends up saying something like ‘you know id do anything for you’ and connor gets really overwhelmed by the sincerity in it and swears hed do the same,,,its real nice they love each other a lot 

Send Me A Ship!

anonymous asked:

Hey, I really like the name Alexander but my friend keeps telling me it's too basic and androgynous. I really like the name, but I'm having second thoughts now, especially because I don't want to change my middle name and Alexander Isabella Gerber is a bit of a mouthful (idk if it sounds good either). Does anyone have any advice or has had the same problem?

Hey! There’s nothing wrong with the name Alexander; in full it is a masculine name it’s only gender neutral when it’s shortened to Alex but I know plenty of guys called Alex! If you like it then things like that shouldn’t put you off! If you’re worried about it then try looking up new names and see if there’s another one you like and try it out. Your name is your choice, don’t let anyone else decide your name for you!


poshtearex  asked:

Tell them their sword looks awesome

{[SAY]: [”Your sword looks awesome]}

To break the tension you decide to let Gestalt know how much you like their claymore.

It must be an important sword if it has a name and if it has been passed down throughout Gestalt’s family.


What Should We Do Now?