or else ;A;

things harry has said on tour so far that have made me feel some type of way:

“You are the best friends anyone could ask for… thank you so much.”

“I’m gonna need more from you. I’m pretty into you right now, and I’m about to tell you I’m having your baby. Maybe we’ll skip Kiwi tonight. No? Shall we start again?”

“You were good, but you need to be better.”

“I’m forever yours.”

“Thank you for popping my cherry, as you will.”

“I’m falling in love with you to this song.”

“Who’s ready to dance with me? Are you ready to sing with me? I wanna see what you got.”

“If you’re gonna do it as loudly as this, you’re gonna get it as many times as you want.”

“I want you to do whatever makes you happiest. You can be whoever you want to be in this room.”

“I could not feel more honoured to stand in front of a group of strong women every night and sing for you.”

Everyone Else: **claps for Screen Rant finally getting on board the Reylo train**

Me: **grumbling** thanks for making all those articles before about how abuuuusive Reylo is and how deluuuuuded fangirls were over it. I’m over here remembering how y’all were SURE ReySky was gonna happen and Reylo was a fangirl fantasy. But OK.

2

If you’re afraid of losing your happy ending, it means you found it. What is it?
It’s you.

THERE AND BACK AGAIN CHALLENGE with @taurielsilvan
↪ captain swan & aesthetic picspam

I wonder how much of that classic sense of, “I can have high expectations for how other people are treated, but view myself as trash,” comes from getting a lot of one’s basic lessons in love and empathy from books instead of peers

Like, I had almost no friends as a child, so I sat alone at recess, not playing with other children or being treated as worthwhile or interesting. The part of my brain that was supposed to encode my own personal experiences of being loved and treated well grew cobwebs while I was around other kids. So I brought library books out onto the playground with me.

Books saved me—books taught me that there were worthwhile friendships out there, and what they were like. I could tell when the characters deserved better. Books were like an author bottling up love and attention for me so I could open it up when I needed it. So I was kept entertained and learned what they looked like for other people.

But that didn’t change my own circumstances. Reading about someone being comforted when they were sad was very different than feeling someone else’s arms around me when I was crying. No matter how fiercely I wanted my life to be like the books I read, it wasn’t.

So I learned: There is a reality of love and care for other people, and there is a reality of loneliness and sorrow for me.

So no wonder I had a double standard for a lot of things in my life. My education in love was strictly bifurcated, and the important dividing line was whether a scenario included me, personally.

If true, this has all kinds of implications when it comes to treating the lonely love-starved bookworm, so I wonder.

everyone’s making jokes about how reigen’s gonna stop ???% but honestly? i feel like reigen isn’t going to try to stop him? i feel like reigen’s going to walk with ???% to tsubomi and just. take it all in his stride

The Sexual Escapades of A Well-Informed Pureblood, Engaged to the Randy Prat Who Lived - Teaser

So this weekend @l0vegl0wsinthedark and I have several things planned for you. And we don’t want to say too much, but we can spoil that sex features heavily in all of them. (*snort*)  But, um. Especially Friday’s.

Which features a rotating cast of characters in a variety of embarrassing positions, that were way too fun to write. Posting on Friday, by @l0vegl0wsinthedark, check out a teaser from the newest chapter.

Chapter Sixteen: Housewarming

Keep reading

Comfort

Laughter was normal. It was when the yelling began, followed by the telltale sound of glass smashing on a wooden floor, that Dark knew something wasn’t right. He made his way across the yard, shoes leaving soft imprints in the dewy grass. He’d been out here longer than he’d thought. He opened the back door, a trail of water left behind him on the hardwood floor as he walked to his destination. The yelling continued, with more broken glass. Dark peered around the corner of the kitchen and let out a sigh.

Wilford was pacing back and forth, anxiously wringing his hands as he yelled to himself, (“It’s all my fault, they’re gone because of me! Why am I always so selfish?!”) his face stained with the salty remnants of tears. He stopped for a moment, leaning against a counter and breathing heavily. Anyone else would have thought he had calmed down, but Dark had seen this before, and he knew better. Wilford took another shaky breath, running his fingers through his hair, before suddenly swiping a hand furiously across the surface of the counter, sending a few ceramic mugs tumbling viciously to the ground, where they splintered and broke apart.

“Wilford,” Dark called out. Wilford froze, turning his head to look at Dark. Wilford’s expression fell even further upon seeing him.

“I killed them Dark…I killed them! They’re gone! All of them!” he choked out, gesturing his arms helplessly.

“Wil, it’s okay,” Dark soothed.

“No, it’s not okay! It will never be okay!” Wilford said maniacally.

“Wilford—”

“Nothing will ever be okay again!”

Wilford—” Dark tried again.

“How could I do that to my friends? How could I—”

William!” Dark boomed, and immediately Wilford was silenced. He hadn’t wanted to use that name. He never wanted to use that name. But sometimes, it was the only way to keep Wilford from hurting himself further.

Wilford stared at him, eyes brimming with tears. For a moment, neither man said anything. All the fight had drained from Wilford, and now he just looked devastated.

“Damien…” Wilford said, voice barely a whisper.

Dark stepped closer, and immediately Wilford fell against him, his hands clinging onto the expensive fabric of Dark’s suit. Dark wrapped his arms around him, pulling him closer as Wilford pressed his face to Dark’s shoulder, every wracking sob shaking the both of them. When he had calmed enough to stop crying, Wilford pulled back slightly, smiling apologetically at Dark.

“Sorry, Dark, I just—I got caught up in the past again,” he said.

“No need to apologize, Wil,” Dark reassured. “I more than anyone understand what you’ve been through—what we’ve been through,”

Wilford nodded gratefully. Dark raised a hand to cup the side of Wilford’s jaw, letting his thumb skim gently across his lips. He leaned in slowly, and Wilford closed the remaining space between them, sealing their lips in soft kiss. Wilford’s moustache tickled against Dark’s skin, but he couldn’t care less. Dark pulled away from the kiss, only to press another to the corner of Wilford’s mouth, then another just below that. His movements were languid and reassuring, placing butterfly kisses all along Wilford’s neck. Wilford sighed, the tension slowly leaving him as Dark administered his affection.

“Just know, Wil,” Dark said between kisses, “You will never be alone. I will always be beside you, even when everyone else has gone.”