or pulled from obscurity


i.) Love her even if he believed she was gone and spend time hurting because she deserves it. Being so unwilling to live on an Earth, deprived of his love, he didn’t give her the chance to prove that even in her absence, she has a place in his heart.  

ii.) Plaster missing persons signs around, showing just the crook of her neck, or the curve of her ear, or the one rough patch of her palm that knew enough about roses and thorns to love him– disperse a puzzle across the city so that he’ll know he won’t be alone in thinking about her.

iii.) Search for his favorite parts of their love. He could have dug deeper, pulled obscurities out from the dirt, bring back to life that which would have otherwise died with her. Say, hey this is where Juliet and I first bared ourselves to the moon, at least there is a heavenly body out there who won’t forget us.

iv.) Give it time to heal. If he had just waited, maybe he would have realized that she left behind more love than scar, more hope than injury, more life than he could have known to exist after losing her.

v.) Stay for what remained. Reap blessings from eternity as gentle memories of her dotted the air. Find reason to make amends with the Capulets. Never stop living under the light of her name because she had enough purity to outrun death, even if her body did not. He could have loved her as more than a ghost. And maybe she would have come back to him.

anonymous asked:

How to become Homestuck trash? Step one?

How to Become Homestuck Trash: A Guide for the Uninitiated

Step 1: Have friends who are already Homestuck trash

This step is essential to becoming Homestuck trash. Let your trashy friends tell you about how amazing Homestuck is. The feels, the memes, the deaths, the glory, the confusion, how it redefines the webcomic medium with flash sections and a soundtrack. (If you don’t have trashy Homestuck friends this step can be replaced with seeing cool cosplays or fanart on tumblr) This should get you curious enough to move on to the next step. 

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I have a fic request! I noticed after Ending B 9S gets really protective of 2B and tries to stand in front of her a few times during the assault mission. When you go in his room during the credits, he talks in a gentle voice, while showering 2B with power up items, money, and tells her to be careful. So, I have this headcanon that they had sex after Ending B and that's why he was acting like that toward her. Would you be willing to write another lewd fanfic of these two again? Thank you!


(Once again, I’m doing the dirty and this time I’m like, fuck it, I’m sin mother and this ship is mine to steer. No real attention was put on the “how” in this one, however. Androids have genitals now; deal with it.)

-Tumblr formatting legend: * = italics -

Her gloved fingers brushed along the side of his face, judging the reality of his existence by this simple set of light movements of leather against artificial skin. Her knuckles curled as they ran over his cheek, a finger tracing his chin and, after a moment of slight hesitation, following the shape of his lips. His shaking breath parted the plump skin, his cheeks lightly dusted with blush pink.

She realized that this moment was something he didn’t expect and wasn’t something she had planned. It was born of a spontaneous desire to assure that it really was him and not another formatted version she needed to learn to love again.

“2…B?” He finally ventured when her fingers finally came to rest against the shell of his neck. She looked down but only saw the blackness of his visor, not the deep, dark blue eyes his model type was equipped with. His voice caught, embarrassed.

“Yes?” She prodded. 9S adverted his gaze even though he couldn’t see her eyes behind her visor. She raised an eyebrow, inviting him to voice his thoughts.

“…I…um,” he took her hand in his own. He gripped her smaller, delicate yet deadly fist in his own as if debating allowing her to fight this internal war with him.

N-not now.*

“Thanks.” He gave her a soft smile, a smile she could could see past with no assistance.

She wasn’t going to push him, not now anyways. This wasn’t the time, time that was running short. At any moment, Command would give an order that would possibly divide them and she would never get this opportunity again.

So she ignored it and gently separated their hands, moving hers to press against his chest before leaning forward and bringing their lips together. The cool and firm skin yielded against hers, warm breath mixing as they each tested the boundaries of what they could do behind the closed door of the room the Resistance had given them. She felt the steady hum of his systems underneath her palms, growing in confidence with each beat before tugging that the buttons of his coat. 9S froze and swallowed, unsure of how he should react or use his hands as they rested uselessly at his sides.

He didn’t have to wait for long before his chest was exposed to her hands, which tugged urgently at his skintight undershirt. Her tongue pushed against his lips, looking for any sign of entry into his mouth as one hand slid up his back and entwined itself in his hair, nails pressing on his scalp.

She felt her pulse rate spike as they gave into the simpleminded desire coursing through their systems, blood pounding in her ears. A combat model, she shouldn’t feel this nervousness. Yes, she was bold and confident but that was in a situation where breaking the other person was perfectly acceptable and the desired goal. 9S wasn’t a person she wanted to hurt, even accidentally.

Gently, she pushed against him, causing him to rest on the bed, her palms on either side of his head. Their lips had came unglued during the transit; 2B panted, a small trail of saliva of unsure origin slicking the skin as she stared down at him. His cheeks and ears had become a shade of red that could only be described as “adorable”, his mouth just as lewdly askew as hers.

She stared down at him, attempting to gage his reaction to what had transpired before. Everything about him urged her on, begging her to keep going, including the obvious stiffness in his pants that was growing harder as movement aroused them both.

Still…she reached behind his head and undid the knot of his visor, pulling the obscuring black fabric from his eyes while doing the same to herself. His eyes, despite being artificial optics with wires and no soul behind them, were the most expressive part of him. One look into them told her everything and sealed the consent she needed.

Granted, she doubted that what she saw behind the thick veil of lust and desire was that look in his eyes she knew and feared. It was that look that was always followed by a swift betrayal in the form of a sword through his chest. He knew something and he wanted to tell her, but he was still searching for the right time and that wasn’t now, thank the God she still believed had abandoned her.

His coat and undershirt were urgently pulled off to silence her own thoughts on that terrifying subject. He couldn’t speak those words if his mouth was occupied with hers, his hands flush against her backside.

She could feel her own body heat rising, the fabric of her undergarments and clothes becoming too tight and heavy for her to bear. It felt similar to a buildup of reactor heat before the inevitable self destruction, her neither regions throbbing with sweltering, wet need.

“9S.” She separated their lips to gaze into his eyes again. He took the hint surprisingly well, but she didn’t doubt the label of “high end” attached to his model type. His logic systems worked far and above hers, able to solve these kind complexities when his own sheepishness finally died. He undid the near invisible buttons right at the side of her chest, the black fabric of her shirt coming loose before falling from her shoulders and arms and onto the ground. His thumbs trailed over her bare skin, tugging at the edges of her leotard to get to more of that smooth flesh he just wanted to feel*.

He visibly twitched when he felt her palm slide along his crotch, fingers grazing his member. One dragged against the damp tip, playing with him mercilessly as he panted uselessly against her mouth. “Ah…a…2B.” She cupped her hand around his length, the leather of her glove smooth and molding to his skin.

They moved against each other, losing clothing and inhibition. Underneath all the layers was bare skin, soft, peachy and a layer of untouched sensitivity. Other loosely regulated YoRHa members spoke in not-so-hushed tones about doing this very selfsame thing all the time around the Bunker, but 9S himself had never been privy to the practice. The way 2B moved for them though, her hands firmly planted on either side of his head and hips hovering above his crotch, broadcasted experience he couldn’t match. A tiny, jealous part of him wondered who else had the undeniable honor of witnessing her lewd and bare, the part also wondering what happened to them. He hadn’t even been inside her and he knew she felt as breathtaking as she looked when her eyes were low and her cheeks red with the effort of restrained sounds.

Keeping the theme of control firmly in her hands, she lowered herself onto him, hissing as she twisted the sheet in her fingers. His systems flushed with heat, his back arching at the sudden but welcome feeling that rushed through his nervous systems.

Who could possibly give this feeling up? After a moment, her hips began to rock against his before they became full thrusts, rapid exhales leaving their mouths in synchronized shallow breaths of air. What kind of idiot would let her go?

She had done this before. With him. Of course, he doesn’t remember, but she knows where he’s weak, the spots he didn’t like to be touched and the way he moved.

He hadn’t changed. They hadn’t wiped him away…and for that, she’s glad. It’s a small consolation prize for the suffering she will soon bring down onto him, pleasure before pain.

She wondered if it was worth it.

Inside, she was capable of burning him alive, smothering him in the greatest way possible with crushing, dominating force. Her slick muscles held him firm, wet, hot and…shit, he’s burning and his blood is boiling in his veins.*

He pushed against the bed, going against her weight to sit up with her in his lap, her head on his shoulder. She followed his lead, wrapping her legs around his back, tightly holding him flush to her. Fuck, it felt too good.* Her head throbbed, processors firing in overdrive as it all began to dull into one feeling of never wanting to stop*. If she didn’t stop…if they never stopped…

“Ngh…ah…ah.” His tongue fought a losing but heated battle with hers, warm saliva trailing down her lips. 9S moaned as she curved her back to allow for deeper penetration and closer contact between them. N-no way he was going to live through this. The way she rode him so desperately, so hungry for him and…well shit she was heavier than him and she wasn’t being gentle. If he broke his new body though, it was a hell of a way to go.

*Man, 21O is gonna be pissed…“how did you break your body again?” “I got fucked by a combat android and I learned that being on the bottom is dangerous to my health yet really awesome.”*

No way in hell he was going to tell anyone about this.

“Don't…don't…” She licked her lips and gasped for words. “Stop…thinking.”

*Just do me one favor please*, she wanted to beg. *Don’t do this to me again.*

Her nails dug into his skin, trails of red left in her wake. The pain was nothing compared to the all consuming pleasure, a mere inconvenience in the face of something he needed if he was going to be strong and…was he really going to tell her? He trusted her with his life, but his own mind was in shambles with what he had learned from digging where he had no right. Was he really going to doom her to the same fate? Was that fair?

“Stop thinking,” that’s what she had demanded.

Losing himself in her, in the feelings she drew out of him, was far better than the truth.

They had been called back to the Bunker and separated by circumstance, preparing the mission that would hopefully end the war. Adam and Eve had been destroyed, leaving the machine network venerable.

This was their chance, and yet *their chance had past. She came to his room one last time, the air heavy with knowledge and tension. His skin still smelled of her, his chest marked by thin cuts. It was fresh, the feeling still raw in his mind.

What could he say…? He was pathetic when it came to her. All he could do was give her a gift and words heavy with barely repressed affection and love.

Maybe…maybe when this fight was over, they could run from YoRHa no matter the outcome. They could escape together, become rouges and relocate where Command could never find them. He could research machines and she could fish and…and…

Was it…selfish? Was this what she wanted? Did she still want war or did she want the same peace he did? Was he only doing this for himself?

He had no time to answer. The mission came first.

Her hand lingered on his shoulder, as if she wanted to say something else, do something else, but nothing came to her.

“…Be careful, 9S.”

There it was, the frigid love he so hated. He wanted more warmth, more heat, more of the genuine person she was, not the soldier façade she put up.

“You too…2B.”

He would tell her. No matter the outcome, she deserved the truth.

A Strange Man and A Bartender.

The wide streets were lined with grey, rectangular buildings that spat dark smoke and white hot sparks at passers by.  Workman, young and old, scurried up and down the road like rodents. Crates, barrels, bits of timber and sheets of metal were hoisted on to mens sholders and transported from factory to factory. Irene felt claustrophobic - The constant sound of metal scraping against metal, the men shouting at each other from the roadside and people of all sorts talking, crowded the streets and made her feel decidedly ill. There was a drunken brawl taking place to her left, a man whoring - on the open road - to her right and another individual taking a piss against the building just in front of her. The throws of people seemed un-phased by the commotion and Irene wondered if perhaps it was normal for them. With a strange twisting sensation in her gut Irene realised that one day this might be her normal too. She kept walking at reasonable pace, determined to look like she belonged amongst the city’s inhabitants. She stopped to ask directions but found that the people were as cold and hard as Birmingham itself. Not that they hadn’t earned the right to be - The war had made everyone cold.

The streets began to narrow and split into lanes. Confused, she checked the piece of paper in her hand again. The directions she had been given were not near detailed enough and in fact mentioned nothing of the three pronged street she had come to. She stood there in the middle of the road utterly confused. Where the fuck was she? The noise, the smoke, the fucking people. She wanted to go home. Solemnly, she reminded herself that that place didn’t exist anymore. Lost in thought, she didn’t hear the sound of the carriage speeding up the road behind her until it was too late. “Get off the fucking road,” the driver screamed and Irene turned around just in time to see a horse and carriage, driving madly up the street, heading straight for her. “Get off the fucking road, you stupid bitch,” the man yelled again. Somehow something in her brain clicked and she managed to fling herself out of the way just as the carriage flew past. Irene fell hard on her knees, her skin had broken and her skirt had torn. She ripped off the tattered parts of her skirt. Her once ankle length dress now sat mid thigh. Irene tried to mop up the blood that had bloomed on her badly grazed knees. Using the part of her skirt she had torn off she attempted to clean out the dirt that had settled in the abrasion. A loud bang erupted to the right. Curious, she stood up and peered into the dark alley way where the sound came from. The alley way wasn’t particularly special apart from the wooden sign that hung on the establishment at the end of the alley.’ The Garrison’. Was that the place? She checked her bit of paper again and decided that even if it wasn’t she could at least ask for directions. She untied her curly black hair from its bun in attempt to make herself look slightly more presentable. She took a deep calming breath, the heel of her boot clicked as she took her first step toward the place that would change her life.  

The noise from inside the Garrison rivalled that of the noise in the Birmingham streets. Men sat in clusters, telling stories of glory from the good old days, over drink. Some men sat at the bar and just drank in silence, downing glass after glass of brown liquid - they were the men trying to drown their sorrows. Others came for all sorts of reasons.

It was a nice pub and Irene could see herself sitting in there drinking. The mahogany oak and patterned wall paper made the place seem warm and inviting and the people, though loud, seemed fairly content. She made her way over to the bar, weaving through the pint carrying men. She dodged wondering hands and ignored lecherous glares with a practised ease. In her own town, the barkeep at the pub knew everything about everyone. There was not one person in that place that hadn’t passed through his doors. She hoped it was the same in the city. The bartenders face was haggard and old, but nonetheless kind. She smiled at him and put both her elbows on the bar top. He flipped a glass in front of her.

The deep oak doors flew wide open an in walked a man - if you could call him that. From the looks he got, he seemed like something akin to a god. Some people in the bar openly stared, others risked quick secretive glances over the rim of their drinks but all were silent. The man seemed oblivious to this, and in three long strides took a place on the bar right next to her. He was tall - and towered above her. Not that that was much of a feat, she had to stand on her tippy toes to reach a comfortable height over the bar. His broad square shoulders and small waist made him a cutting figure in a suit. A peaked hat was pulled down over the front half of his face obscuring it from view. She was instantly intrigued but kept her head facing the barman. She simply hadn’t the time for mysterious men. The barman was the first person to openly address him,

“Irish is on the house Mr.Shelby.”

The man only nodded in response as a bottle of Irish whiskey was put down in front of him and her glass tumbler was dragged across the table. The other people in the pub had slowly resumed talking and the noise began to build again. The Shelby man placed two coins down for his drink. The man was generous, but from the way his eyes cut into her she wasn’t sure if he was just parading his wealth. He didn’t seem the type though, sensible hat, sensible shoes.

“A drink for the lady?” the barkeep smiled returning his attention to her.

“No. Thank you. I’m looking for someone actually, a Ms. Elizabeth Grey.” The Shelby man visibly tensed at my side. I continued, choosing to ignore his strange reaction. “I was told I could find her here. If you could point me her way it’d be much appreciated.”

“What business do you have with Polly?,” The Shelby man asked before the barman had the chance to respond.

Irene turned towards him. “I’m sorry,” She said in the most patronising voice she could muster, a saccharine smile plastered on her face. “I didn’t realise this was a three way conversation. To whom am I speaking?”

“I apologise for not formally introducing myself, Thomas Shelby.” He looked her up and down. He was sizing her up. She felt herself flush, suddenly overly conscious of her grazed knees, messy hair and short skirt.

“Now Mr. Thomas Shelby what relation do you have to Ms.Elizabeth Grey? Are you her father perhaps?”

Infuriatingly impassive he replied “I can’t say that I am.”

“Then surely you are either her husband, brother or son? In Birmingham you could even be all three.”

A smiled played about his lips but he just shook his head - no.

“Then I do not see what business I have speaking to you.” In an act of complete dismissal she turned her back to him, eyes set on the barman she inclined her head, telling him to answer her question.

Thomas Shelby stood, turning to face the rest of the room. The bar, again, became silent.

“Get the fuck out - All of you”

He didn’t need to ask twice, people abandoned half drunk beers on the table and simply stood and hurried towards the door. No protest, no argument. Just obedience.

The last man left…

And she was left alone, with a strange man and a bartender.

FF#17 Fervor

FF#17 Fervor

RATING: M. Which is mature, because, MATURITY and sexy stuff.

Prompt: Impulses

By Leilah Ali


They slipped through the throng, flashing lights and pounding music assaulting their senses from all directions. Oliver had his hood pulled over his head, face obscured from those curious enough to spare them a glance. The underground club teemed with people, strange and dark people, eyelids smeared with black makeup and glitter, clothing teared in various places to appear wild—feral. The crowded room was filled with shadows, alcoves lining the walls covered by curtains so couples seeking privacy could find it easily. The music was hypnotic, mainstream crap be forgotten, it was pulsing and filled with feelings. The masses moved with it. 

Felicity Smoak was not here to dance though, her and Oliver had gotten clue of the new Vertigo, a man who apparently had perfected the drug and altered it according to his will. On the road to his discovery, the Team Arrow already found five victims shaking in fear from it, babbling about men without faces and bats. Another two were trying to jump off roofs, their inhibitions completely gone. She worried as to what else he could do. So now they were in this cesspool of sin—her clothed in a tight skirt, heels, and a terribly revealing shirt (Oliver had said she had to dress the part if she was going to accompany him)—she looked almost like a street walker. Roy was more fit for this job. 

Roy is not here,” she reminded herself. Roy had gone in search of Thea after receiving her slightly morbid note, Oliver had told Diggle no more field work (to the man’s fury), so she had been left alone to pick up the slack. She wasn’t helpless, however. 

Felicity was surreptitiously armed; two small knives were strapped to both thighs, a feat she wouldn’t have thought possible for her since people like Lara Croft and Black Widow usually donned these types of weapons.

She had ordered a bow especially for Oliver, one that could fold in on itself. He had been ecstatic because now the bow could be hidden easily in undercover cases. What Felicity hadn’t told him was that she had watched The Avengers and seen Hawkeye’s weapon do just that and it had inspired her to find one for Oliver. She was sure Oliver wouldn’t be so keen about the bow if he knew Hawkeye had one just like it. So he was armed as well, bow unidentifiable against his back.

They reached the back of the club where one door stood armed by a burly man in a suit. He was wearing sunglasses. Oliver strode up to him. 

“You can’t come in here sir,” the man growled, “you need a pass.”

Felicity chirped from the behind Oliver, “I’m sorry, but, why do bodyguards like you always wear sunglasses? Isn’t it already dark enough in here?” She was actually curious. 

The man looked at Felicity with confusion but was dispatched with a quick blow to the back of the neck. Oliver helped the unconscious man slip easily to the floor, stepping over him to reach the door. They stepped through to see a long and dark hallway extending from the doorway. Oliver gestured for Felicity to stay close to him then holding a finger up to his lips. 

They creeped inside, cautiously tiptoeing down the hall. Doors lined the walkway, each one closed and locked. A door, however, on the far left hand side was open, and voices echoed back to them. Oliver pulled his bow from his back, nocking an arrow in place. Felicity pulled a knife from her thigh, feeling distinctly badass while doing it. 

Oliver whispered, “Just stay behind me please, near the door, I don’t need you getting hurt.”

She whispered back fiercely, “Why did you bring me then?!” If he didn’t think she could handle herself, why was she backing him up at all. 

They inched towards the door. “On three,” Oliver mouthed. He held up his fingers. 

One, Two, Three.

He threw a smoke pellet into the room to the immediate shouts of the occupants, Oliver then ran in, bow taut in his hands. Felicity followed afterward, knife held in front of her. She stopped just shy of the entryway, gazing at the men inside. Three of them were on the floor, hands above their heads in compliance. One had a gun and was pointing it at the Arrow. Vertigo stood in the midst of it all, cool, collected, hands in his pockets just calmly observing the two people before him. His gaze flicked over Felicity and back to Oliver, a smile curled his lip. 

“Vertigo, you have failed this city.” Oliver said, voice deep and resinous. 

Vertigo’s smile just widened. “No, I think it is you, who have failed her.” He nodded towards Felicity. 

Suddenly a burst of light blinded them, then a hissing sound followed. The room began to smell like—like—peppermint, and it burned—her… nose…


She woke up muddled, everything blurry. Her temple throbbed. Music blared around her—where was she? 

Her eyesight cleared. Right, the club. With who? 

She squeezed her eyes shut tight. Oliver. Oliver Queen. She opened them again. Oliver? She saw Oliver on the dancefloor, two skinny brunettes draped around him as his hands roved across their torsos. A rush of anger caused her chest to burn. She stood up, realizing that she had been lying on a sofa in one of those alcoves lining the room. Felicity marched towards Oliver. 

I’m going to tell them to fuck off. Who do they think they are, rubbing up on my man?

Another, tinier voice, in the back of her mind whispered, your man? But she squashed it. 

She reached Oliver, and he turned towards her dreamily, a stupid grin on his face. Completely forgetting the girls he was holding, he let go of them, pulling Felicity into a tight hug. “Felicity!” he yelled with complete joy. “Felicity Smoak! My favorite IT girl.” He pulled away from the hug and all she could think was how warm his hands were against her skin and how nice his lips were from this close and her heart beat like a drum and she could not stop this tingling in her bones. 

“Let’s go,” she nodded towards the alcoves, “I want to show you something.” Felicity didn’t know who’s voice came from her, but it was sultry, and deeper than her normal voice. Oliver’s grin turned into something more predatory, almost wickedly curving his features. 


She led him over to the curtained space, pushing him inside with both her hands. It was like something inside led her movements, fueled the emotions within her, turning them all primal—anger, lust, rage. The curtain fluttered shut behind her. 

Oliver had a hungry glint in his eyes, blue gleaming in the dim light. “What do you want to show me?” he asked huskily. 

Felicity took a step towards him, which was difficult because there was only so much space in the tiny room. She locked gazes with him and slowly took off her shirt, letting it drop to the floor as she revealed the lacy white bra underneath. His eyes widened as he took her in, lingering over the curves of her form. 

It was like the world held its breath in that moment. 

The moment before he closed the space between them, crushing her against him.

Their lips met in a hurry, tongues locked in a furious dance. It was all skin and teeth and heavy breathing, like they just had this one moment, this short second to have eachother, and they planned on having as much as possible. His fingers roamed over her skin, her breasts, teasing the lining of her bra as Felicity let a soft sigh escape her mouth. Felicity unzipped his hoodie and ran her hands over the strong lines of his chest.

He lifted her full up against him and pushed her against the wall, mouth trailing lines of fire up and down her throat. Why is this happening, wait, this isn’t supposed to happen like this. But her thoughts were silenced, when Oliver’s hands pushed her skirt up to her hips, making circuits down and around her thighs. A shiver travelled down her spine. Her fingernails scratched at him, clawing lines down his back. He bit her bottom lip, and she could feel blood welling up from the wound. The pain was intoxicating.

What are you doing? The tiny voice in her mind trilled

His middle finger tugged at the lace of her underwear.


He let his tongue trail up her throat. Her head fell back with a moan.

Remember why you’re here.

The straps of her bra fell from her shoulders, Oliver hurried to unclasp it in the back.


She was gasping his name.

Vertigo did this.

He unclasped her bra, and began to pull it off, mouth poised where the fabric covered her.

“Vertigo!” Felicity gasped. “Oliver, stop.” But he wasn’t listening, instead suckling her, teeth biting at her skin. It felt good. She needed him to stop. “Oliver!” He groaned but ignored her. 

She slapped him, hard, right across the face. He stumbled back in surprise. Felicity hurried to cover herself. “Vertigo! He drugged us!” Oliver looked like he was waking up from a trance. 

“Felicity?” He mumbled. 

“Pull yourself together, this was the drug,” her eyes were bright, and cheeks flushed from the exertion of it all. Suddenly, Oliver seemed to realize what he was doing. His eyes widened and he quickly turned them to the floor. 

“Oh god. Sorry, Felicity, I acted like—, he shook his head, “I’m sorry.”

She put on her shirt. “We never speak of this again.”

He nodded. “Right. Never.”

She hurried away from the alcove, making her way towards the exit, Oliver staring at her as she left. 

But neither could truly forget.

i met a schizophrenic person in 2014? 2015? i met him on Facebook. i only mention his schizophrenia because i can’t explain what happened to me. we would talk on Skype. in a matter of days, we were falling asleep on Skype, waking up, saying goodbye and being notified our conversation was 14 hours long. he asked me to trust him and i did. we would masturbate together but i started to sense that he was right next to me. the orgasms were incredible. i started feeling this fire in the pit of my stomach where a major chakra is located ( i know, i know). it felt like pure love like pure light. i contained a brightness akin to the sun. it was overwhelming, i didn’t feel it always. we would lay down together and i could physically feel him caressing my skin; his individual fingertips. i felt him touch my forehead. he lived 1,000 miles away. he often pulled an obscure thought directly from my head and said it out loud. i honestly thought he was god for a while. so of course god ended up hurting me. i don’t know exactly what happened but i wasn’t prepared to feel such a great loss.
a fantasy evaporates, our love condenses elsewhere.
i stopped feeling loss eventually because i could still feel that fire in my stomach, that pure light.
i can feel it even now
and i’m so thankful.

“When we go, we’ll go together.” | Lachesis & Finn - Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War

Somehow, this is the first Fire Emblem couple we’ve cosplayed! FE4 is a fantastically melodramatic and heavily 90’s game that has a special place in my heart. We were part of a group for MAGfest, and these two were my favorite couple despite all this game’s… interesting character dynamic choices. I’m so happy we were able to pull together costumes from this obscure, never localized game.

My only real regret? The decision to not do the full 90’s anime floof hair. Maybe next time!

A Lonely Heart is Never Fun

Rated: PG 13

Robbie Rotten sat with his back against the back of his billboard and stared up at the stars. It wasn’t all that cold but he still felt numb as he sat there.

He scowled suddenly,”What am I even doing out here! I should be sleeping! Or off figuring out my next scheme to get that flippy elf out of here!” He flourished his statement with a wave of his arm only to drop it back down beside himself without feeling and he sighed. 

Keep reading

A selection of artwork I did in 2016

2016 marks the 10 year anniversary of my tentative attempts with digital art and posting work online. I’ve mostly flown under the radar and have populated cozy niches in fandom for most of those ten years. Finding the SPN fandom hasn’t really pulled me out of my cozy niche when it gets to content (I’m not going to bother to offer half-hearted apologies about the weirdness on my blog) but it has definitely pulled me out from underneath my rock of obscurity. And that again pushed me to make lots of art and learn from it. So thank you! ♥

Last year I said in 2016 I would do more canon compliant Supernatural art. That didn’t happen. I sketched a couple of more ambitious pieces but most didn’t get finished. I worked almost the entire year, which had an impact on how much time I had to draw and it showed; I made lots of sketches this year and not that many fully finished pics. But I think sketching helps being a bit more daring.

Wherever 2017 takes me I hope that I will continue to draw. I want to improve when it gets to sort of realistic art and to have more confidence in my skills. And for the hell of it: I hope I draw some backgrounds.

Thank you so much for being my companions through this tumuluous year. Thank you for the reblogs, the likes, the comments, the prompts and the kindness. I really appreciate it! ♥

(My art summaries for 2013 // 2014 // 2015)

Four Days

When Solas hears of the miraculous woman who stumbled out of the Fade, he is eager to offer his services to help.

The first four days after the destruction of the Conclave, from Solas’s POV.

—Day One—

“Do we know anything about the prisoner?” Solas asked calmly as he followed the Seeker. “Perhaps her background holds some clue as to how she obtained this scar you speak of.”

“No,” the woman answered, her voice low and tense. Even as she guided him down the set of stone steps, her face was pulled into a look of severity that was not difficult to read. She was angry. Frightened. She did not trust him. Solas did not blame her for that. She had little reason to. Convincing her to allow him access to the prisoner had not been easy and he was certain her suspicions were raised. “We do not know her name nor where she came from. She is Dalish, which makes her presence at the Conclave suspect. Her people had no place in these negotiations.”

“Do you truly believe she was here for some nefarious purpose?”

Cassandra shot him a look that would have probably struck fear in him, if he were the sort of man he claimed to be. “It is no longer a question of what she was sent here to do but why,” she said sharply. “The Dalish are certainly aware of the chaos this conflict between the mages and Templars has produced. Perhaps they wish to use this war for their own purposes - stage an uprising while the Chantry is weakened. For all we know, this could only be the beginning.”

Solas said nothing. There was no purpose in arguing. He knew their elven prisoner was not responsible for the explosion at the Conclave, but her fate had all but been decided by the people of Haven. Perhaps they would stage a trial of some sort, but he doubted it would be anything more than a lynch mob dressed up in the guise of civility. Maybe it was a blessing, then, that she would most likely die before they had a chance to slip a noose around her neck.

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Request: *Ok so I making up a villain cause I can’t think, enjoy*

“Everybody start boarding the bus!” Coach Bobby called after taking attendance.
Your friends all sat with their boyfriends surrounding you on all sides, leaving you alone to your magazine and your beloved window seat.
The doors were closing just as someone caused the bus to jerk to a stop by sticking his hand in the door frame.
“WAIT! OH MY GOD OWWW!!” Stiles Stilinski hopped on, shaking his hand, wincing in pain. “Hey coach.” He nodded, rubbing his throbbing fingers.
“Take a seat, Stilinski!” Coach yelled in disgust as you took off again. You held the magazine in front of you, trying to hide your flush face. You didn’t think he was going to make the trip, but now your heart was racing as he neared you.
Please don’t sit here please don’t sit here, you thought over and over as your heart raced.
“Is anyone sitting here?” A breathy voice asked you, casting a shade over your balled up form. You put your curled legs down and lowered the magazine to see Stiles, goofy grin and all standing before you.
“No,” you plainly gave in, trying to keep your cool and moved your bag to the floor. This will be all right, you thought, maybe you’ll actually get a chance to talk to him.
“Cool,” he sat down pulling papers out of his bag, clearly printed from some obscure website.
“What’re those?”
“Um, nothing of your concern,” he stuffed the papers back and turned to talk to Scott who was sitting with your best friend Kira. You rolled your eyes and continued back reading. Who am I kidding, a guy like him would never want to talk to a girl like me, you thought.
It was a long ride to the camp site where you’d all be staying for the weekend field trip.

Stiles turned back a while later and adjusted his body in the coach seat. “Ugh,” he turned his head to back of the bus, “how come this thing doesn’t have a bathroom?!”
“Should’ve gone before you left,” you laughed nervously at his sudden attempt to start conversation.
“Well, I didn’t think of it ok? Thanks mom,” he teased blushing and got up to talk to coach.
Sudden yelling disturbed you from gazing out the window at the darkening countryside.
“All I’m saying is that it’s been three hours! I’m not the only-”
“Stilinski back to your seat!”
“Coach if you’d just-”
“Let me talk!”
“Back to your seat now! Before I give you detention!!”
“OK FINE!” Stiles stormed back and slumped over next to you, arms crossed.
“We’ll be there soon, just try not to think of water.” You tease, and just as so, it started to rain.
“What the heck??” Stiles laughed.


You were woken up by coach’s over bearing voice, yelling to get off the bus. You turned to your left to see Stiles fast asleep on your shoulder, buried into the crook of your neck.
“Uh, time to get off, wakey wakey,” you shook him.
“Wha- wha-?” He awoke looking up at you confused. As soon as he was aware of his surroundings he jumped up from his comfy spot and tripped for his belongs and out the isle. “Sorry…” He ran off to join Scott. You couldn’t help but feel your heart sink, you’ve really liked Stiles for a while, but things were just so awkward. He seemed kind of uneasy around you, like he didn’t want to be there, always turning to talk to anyone else.
You shrugged and headed off. Before you knew it, you and your friends were all set up in your tent for the night.
“Hey let’s play what are the odds!” Lydia adjusted herself in her sleeping bag.
“Sure,” you agreed.
“Ok, I’ll go first!” Kira beamed, “y/n, what are the odds you’ll jump in the lake- but naked?”
“Oh my gosh,” you groaned, “alright I’m thinking of a number….1 to 25.” You figured they’d never guess it - 24.
“Ummmm…. 24?”
“What how’d you guess that?!”
“Stile’s jersey number, come on y/n were not stupid. Now get into that birthday suit for a midnight swim!”
You grabbed the flashlight and reluctantly stumbled out of the tent and down to the lake. The night wind nipped at your neck as you fumbled to get the flickering light to shine on your path. You smacked it one last time and it flashed on two glowing red eyes before going out. You let out a little shriek, but figuring it was only a figment of your wild imagination you approached the dock and began to strip down.
You heard a low growl followed by twig snapping, startling you. You had already taken your top and shorts off and were trying to unhitch your bra.
“Y/N?” A familiar voice called sending a chill down your spine. Oh God no.
“Stiles!” You shrieked trying to cover yourself up considering your bra was half on.
“What are you doing?! Get out of here!”
“Excuse me?” You shifted your weight to when leg ready for his reasoning.
“It’s not safe just trust me!” He begged. A blood curdling scream lifted through the air, goosebumps jumping up all over.
“Run!” Stiles commanded covering you up with his sweatshirt and taking off alongside you.
You both stumbled behind a cabin, and Stiles instinctively covered your mouth with his hand while you zipped up his hoodie.
“Stiles what the hell is going on?!” You threw his hand off.
“Shhh!” He peered around the corner. “Ok, well I didn’t want you to get hurt- now don’t freak out on me ok? But there’s this creature out there…”
“What the hell do you mean ‘creature’?”
“I don’t know maybe something- not human! And it’s out to get…you!”
“Me?! Why?!”
“Shh! Yes, you! Look, I found this list of names, and all these are crossed out, and your next,” he handed you the crumpled paper you saw on the bus. You recognized the names of acquaintances you had lost this year. “We don’t know why, but don’t worry Scott and I are doing the best we can to protect you ok?”
“Scott, is that him out there, fighting it?”
“Ya, he promised me nothing would happen to you, thank God,” he looked down, you swear you saw a tear drop to the ground.
“Stiles, are…are you crying?”
“I was….I was just worried something was going to happen to you at there, what the hell were you thinking?! I mean, I didn’t want to lose you, I can’t lose you….”
“Y/N, I don’t know how to say this…there aren’t many people I really care about in my life as awful as that sounds, pretty much all I got is Scott, my dad, and, and you…it’s just, I’m…im in love you dam it, and I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thinking I could possibly lose you scares the hell out of me, that’s why I’ve been trying not to get attached, cause eventually I know it might happen, and I won’t be able to bear it….I love you…” He sighed.
“Stiles, I-I love you too,” you whispered into the night chill, the haze of your breath dispersing.
Stiles looked up at you, tears filling his eyes. He slowly leaned in closer to you, brushing against your lips, asking for an entrance, which you quickly granted. You both pulled away panting, and he pressed his forehead on yours.
“Nothing bad will ever happen to you,” he pecked your lips, “as long as I’m around.”

The Last Bus

For clarity’s sake, Tony Testa is one of the main choreographers for both Wolf and Overdose, and it’sprobably a fair statement that he has helped choreograph many of their othersongs (including those from TLP). 

“Alright, everyone – take five!” EXO’s choreographer said, hands on his hips. “Go get some water, and we’ll start on the choreography for the bridge.”

Chanyeol turned just in time to see Baekhyun make a face, already exhausted from the day’s practice. Even the lead dancers looked like they were feeling the exertion; usually, Kai would use the breaks to go over parts he was still struggling with, but even he had just grabbed his water bottle and sat down against the wall.

Chanyeol sighed, stretching his arms over his head before grabbing his nearly empty water bottle. “Hey, Baek – I’m going to go get some more water. You need a refill?”

Bakehyun shook his empty water bottle, nodding. “Yeah, but I’ll go with you. I have got to get out of this room for a few minutes,” he said, snickering lightly. Chanyeol snickered as well, eyes darting towards their choreographer at the front of the room.

“Can’t say I blame you,” he said.

They made their way down the hall to the water fountain, chatting aimlessly as they walked. They took their time refilling their bottles when they finally reached the fountain at the end of the hall, relaxing before they had to return to the grueling practice session. Chanyeol stood staring out the large bay window that looked over the street as Baekhyun refilled his water bottle, only half listening to what his bandmate was saying.

“You know, I kinda hope I get to keep the black hair – Taeyeon really liked it,” Baekhyun said, screwing the lid back onto his bottle. “But I’d be pretty cool with going blond again.” Chanyeol hummed in agreement, still staring out the window. Baekhyun glanced over, rolling his eyes; he could tell from Chanyeol’s expression that the taller hadn’t heard a single word he had been saying.

He elbowed Chanyeol out of the way, squinting out the window into the sunlight. “What exactly are you looking at?”

Chanyeol snickered, pointing at the bus stop. “That girl – she’s cute, don’t you think?”

Baekhyun rolled his eyes, but took a quick glance down at the bus stop. “Yeah, she’s pretty cute. She looks like a student – those books are no joke.”

Chanyeol nodded; the girl was carrying a few very large, heavy-looking textbooks in her arms, a backpack sitting next to her on the bench. “No uniform, though, so probably university.”

Baekhyun shrugged. “Probably,” he said. They stood watching as one of the city busses stopped, obscuring the girl from view; when it pulled away again, she was gone. Baekhyun sighed. “Come on – better get back before Tony has to ask.”

They hurried back to the practice room, water bottles full, neither particularly looking forward to the next several hours.

Later that week, Chanyeol dragged himself out of the SM building, only thinking of his bed back at the dorm. They’d been worked particularly hard that day – Tony had been almost merciless (still somehow nice about it, but merciless nonetheless), drilling them on the dance until it was perfect.

When he looked out the glass door, he grimaced. Rain was pouring out of the sky in torrents; he had no clue it had started raining, having not have left the practice room all day.  He dug his umbrella out from his backpack, grateful he’d at least checked the weather before leaving the dorm that morning, and headed out into the downpour.

Suddenly, he heard a girl yelling; he turned around just in time to see a bus pull away from the stop and the girl from earlier that week running to catch it, her backpack swinging wildly. Before she made it to the stop, the bus had already pulled away.

Almost without thinking, Chanyeol made his way to the crosswalk and across the street, heading for the girl. She had slumped down onto the bench, backpack sitting dejectedly next to her.

“Hi – do you need some help?” he asked, a goofy, toothy smile on his face. She jumped, head snapping up and eyes going wide; Chanyeol noticed that a few strands of her wet hair were plastered to her face.

“I-I’m sorry,” she said, her voice stuttering slightly. “Me?”

Chanyeol nodded, laughing lightly. “Yeah – I saw you missed your bus. Is there anything I can do to help?” He suddenly shook his head, grinning embarrassedly. “I’m sorry, I haven’t even told you my name. I’m Chanyeol.”

She continued looking up at him, her expression still shocked. “I know – you’re in EXO….” She blushed, biting her cheek. “I’m sorry, my name is Y/N.”

He laughed again. “It’s good to meet you, Y/N,” he said. “I was leaving practice and heard you calling for the bus.” Her blush brightened, her embarrassment at him having heard her clear on her face. “Is there anything I can do to help? I think that was the last bus for the night, right?”

She nodded, glancing down the street where the bus had disappeared. “It was – I don’t really know how I’m going to get home now….”

Chanyeol grinned, offering her his hand. “Come on – let me take you inside. Is there someone you can call?”

Y/N tentatively took his hand, letting him pull her up, her surprise at meeting him still clear on her face. She nodded. “My roommate – but I don’t have a phone to call with. I left mine at home by mistake today.”

Chanyeol shrugged. “Don’t worry about that – you can just use mine,” he said. He reached down and swung her backpack onto his shoulder, holding the umbrella back up. “Come on – let’s get you inside where it’s dry.”

Chanyeol ushered them out from the bus stop and across the street, holding the door open for her for her to hurry inside. Once they were in the lobby, he sat Y/N down on a plush couch, waving off her concerns of getting it wet, and handed her his phone. She quickly called her roommate, quietly explaining her situation before handing the phone back.

Y/N found that Chanyeol was very easy to talk to; while they waited, he asked her lots of questions, keeping the conversation flowing without even trying. He made her laugh easily, and she found the more they talked, the more he reminded her of an overgrown puppy.

When Y/N’s roommate pulled up in front of the building, neither Y/N nor Chanyeol wanted their conversation to end. She glanced out the large windows, her expression almost disappointed.

“Thank you so much for all your help,” she said. “I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.” She made to stand, but he grabbed her hand.

“Hang on! Let me give you a way to contact me, okay?” He ran over to the receptionist’s desk, hurriedly scribbling something on a memo note before coming back over, handing her the folded up piece of paper. He smiled. “Let me know you got home safely, okay? And maybe we can get coffee or something sometime, if you want. I really enjoyed talking to you.”

Y/N smiled, a light blush coloring her cheeks. “I’d really like that, Chanyeol.” She tucked the piece of paper securely into her backpack before swinging it up onto her shoulders. “I guess I’ll see you later, then?”

He smiled brightly, holding the door open for her again. “Yeah! I can’t wait, Y/N.” He waved as she hurried to the car.

Once she was sitting in the passenger seat of the car, Y/N’s roommate turned to look at her suspiciously. “Who exactly was that, Y/N?”

Y/N couldn’t stop smiling. “That was EXO’s Chanyeol – we’re going to go get coffee sometime.”

- Admin A

Sleeping With The Boss

A/N: Okay, so this is slightly nsfw. Slightly. Its based on the first prompt of this post. Also – what a lame title. I’m sorry. Its 11.43 pm and my brain has stopped functioning. Hope you guys enjoy it. <3

Lily moaned as James sucked a spot her neck and her heart pounded erratically against his. James moved his lips to hers and kissed her hard as he pulled out of her and rolled off. Lily flinched unhappily at the loss of contact and James smirked, letting his head drop onto the soft pillows. He let out a long breath. “Wow.”

Still at a loss for words, Lily murmured in agreement, eyes locked on her bedroom ceiling. Feeling the bed shift under her, she propped herself up on her elbows. turning to face James. He had sat up, pulling his jeans on. Lily’s eyes travelled his back, taking in the red trails etched by her nails. She smirked and huffed, her heart swellling. James stretched, pulling on his shirt. He turned back to face her, his eyes greedily roaming the length of her exposed body. Lily flushed, and James swallowed hard, leaning towards her. Wrapping an arm around her naked waist, he tugged her closer. He lowered his face, his lips mere inches from her own. Lily’s eyes fluttered closed as James’ breath ghosted over her lips. He kissed her slowly and hungrily, parting her lips with his tongue and pushing against her tongue. Lily moaned and reached up a hand to fist in James’ thick hair.

He broke the kiss moments later, his eyes dark and cloudy. “This was… amazing. We should do it again sometime.”

Lily raised her eyebrows quickly and grinned in agreement.

James swung himself off the bed and made his way to the door. Turning back, he winked at her and smirked before exiting the bedroom.

Lily flopped back down onto her bed, smiling foolishly at the ceiling. She turned her head to glance at the clock on her bedstand. 1.56. Fuck. Lily’s smile vanished and she groaned. She was starting a new job tomorrow.  Much as her body and senses were awake, she needed to get to sleep. She could not be sleepy on the first day. First impressions were everything.

“This will be your desk, Lily.” Lily nodded and dropped her purse onto the chair. The older lady, Emmeline, pointed to a set of stairs leading to an office. “That’s the bosses office. All his calls will be directed to you. You will manage his appointments and schedule, and attend to anything else he needs.” Lily nodded her understanding. “Any questions you may have, you can come to me. Let me introduce me to Mr. Potter now. Straighten your skirt, Lily. You'll  want to leave a good impression." 

Lily nodded and immediately began adjusting her skirt but stopped abruptly, her heart racing. "Sorry Emmeline, Mr…?”

Emmeline frowned at her. “Potter. James Potter. You will need to remember his name. It does not bode well that you don’t know his name.” she snapped.

“Oh. I know his name.” Lily whispered. She definitely knew his name, she all but spent the whole of last night screaming it. 

Emmeline eyed her suspiciously. “Well, come on. I haven’t got all day, and neither has Mr. Potter.”

Lily nodded and followed her up the stairs.

Emmeline rapped sharply on the door and entered, Lily in tow.

James sat hunched over his desk, a mess of papers spread out in front of him. He shuffled through the papers. “Yes Emmeline?” he said, not looking up from his work. He pulled out a paper from the pile and groaned loudly. Lily smirked. Definitely the same James Potter from last night.

“Mr. Potter. I’ve just come to introduce you to your new assistant. This is Lily Evans.”

James’ head snapped up, his eyes finding Lily’s quickly. Lily smiled and inclined her head. “Mr. Potter.”

“Miss Evans. Nice meeting you.” James nodded in her direction, eyes never leaving hers.

Minutes passed until Emmeline, eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion, broke the unmistakable tension. “Very well. We’ll leave you to your work Mr. Potter. Don’t hesitate to call Miss Evans, should you need assistance with anything.”

“Oh. I most certainly will.” James breathed in response, tearing his gaze away from Lily’s to return to his paperwork.

Lily ducked her head and left the room, leaving a highly confused Emmeline to follow.

Lily drummed her fingers against the tabletop, answering the phone when it rang. She glanced up at James’ office. She could see him, he was on the phone, talking intently to the other person. He suddenly glanced over to Lily, eyes locking with hers. He smirked at her and continued his conversation, still looking at her. Lily smiled back and looked away from him, back to her computer. She sighed, and smiled at the screen. She couldn’t stop thinking about the night before. She couldn’t stop thinking about James. Last night, he had her blood rushing through her veins and her heart thudding against her ribcage like no one had done before. Her body burned under his touch and his lips scaulded her skin, leaving marks where they had assaulted her. Lily shook her head to clear the thoughts from her mind just as a soft notification beeped on her computer.

From: Potter, James.’

Lily glanced up at his office again, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was furiously writing something down. Puzzled, Lily clicked open her mail.

'Miss Evans, if you would be so kind to enter my office, I require your assistance with a particular matter.’

Lily rose from her seat, and made her way to James’ office. Knocking softly, she entered. James leaned back in his chair, watching her, a small smile playing on his lips. He nodded at the window. “Miss Evans. Could you please pull the blinds down?”

Lily nodded acquiescently, her heart picking up pace. “As you wish, Mr. Potter.” James rose from his chair and made his way to the front of his desk, where he perched, waiting for Lily.

Lily pulled the blinds down, obscuring the rest of the office from view. She walked over to where James was, coming to stop awfully close to him. “Hello James.”

James grinned at her.  "Hello Lily. I didn’t think I would see you again so soon.“

Lily smiled, and cocked an eyebrow. "Ahhh. So then, you intended on seeing me again?”

James stood up, closing the little space between them. He leaned down to whisper in Lily’s ear, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke. “After last night? Hell yeah.”

A shiver ran down Lily’s spine and she turned her head, swiftly capturing James’ lips with hers. He staggered slightly before regaining balance and catching Lily around the waist. She nipped lightly at James’ bottom lip and he gladly granted her entrance. Their tongues battled for dominance and he moaned as Lily ran her hands through his hair. He turned them around and pushed her up against the table.  His hands slowly made their way under her skirt, grazing her thigh. Lily moaned against his mouth and she tugged his tie, pulling him closer. James sighed and obliged willingly, he’d been fantasizing about this the whole morning. 

Many heated moments later, Lily broke the kiss, eyes sparkling happily, breathing ragged. She gasped for breath, grinning wildly. James eyes were dazed behind his askew glasses and he too, had a smile plastered on his face. 

“You’re a mess, James.” Lily took in James appearance, ruffled hair, lopsided glasses, swollen lips. His tie was loose and his shirt half pulled out of his pants. 

James gulped. “You’re no better, love.”

Lily looked down at her skirt, pushed up to her waist and her shirt unbuttoned. “Hell.” She jumped off the desk and readjusted her clothing, as James did the same. 

Finally looking professional (semi-professional), Lily faced James. “Will that be all Mr. Potter? Or is there anything else you need assistance with?" 

James smirked. "Actually Miss Evans, there is one more thing. You see, I’m rather distracted today. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

Lily raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. You see, I had a somewhat 'whirlwind’ encounter with a young lady last night and well, to say the least, I have not been able to get her out of my thoughts since I left her early this morning.”

Lily blushed deeply and licked her parched lips. “Really now?” she said, her voice catching.

“Oh… yes. She was quite… spectacular.” James replied, scratching the back of his head as a red flush began to bloom on his neck. “I was hoping that, should you happen to know this lady, you could pass her a note for me?”

Lily ducked her head. “Certainly, boss. If I so happen to cross paths with her, I shall hand it to her.”

James grinned, sending Lily’s heart racing. “Great.” He turned and reached across his desk, grabbing a folded piece of paper. He walked over to Lily and handed it to her. “Thank you very much, Miss Evans.”

Lily stood on her tiptoes, brushing her lips over James’. “My pleasure, Mr. Potter.”

She swiveled and left his office, leaving him transfixed on the spot where she had left him.

Reaching her desk, Lily glanced around nervously before opening James’ note.

O’ Flannigans Bar, Cheshire Street.
 Meet you there tonight at 8?
 +44 7700
– James. P. (:

Lily bit her lip and smiled happily before glancing up to where James stood, watching her through his office window, and eagerly nodded her agreement.

A/N: What do you guys think? Let me know if you’re interested in a prequel or a sequel, I’m toying around with the idea of writing them, and your feedback will be very much appreciated! (:

Update (17/10): I wrote a sequel!! 

Neighbourhood Watch: An Olicity Fanfic

Based off my post wondering if there’s a group that gathers to watch Oliver as he goes for his morning runs.

(Because I would be first in line)

Read on AO3

Read on ff.net

Enjoy :) and let me know what you think.

Maria Reynolds found herself looking up at the clock on the stove periodically, as she tried to focus on making the ham and cheese sandwich for her daughter’s lunch.

6:56 AM

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(don’t know what a drabble dare is? click above!)

Character Request: Castiel

Challenge: 4:23 a.m.; flat, dry kind of heat; sticky club wristband

Requestor: 200dollargod

Words: 3827

A/N: This is my first serious attempt at Destiel, which I gladly tackled, because the challenge came from 200dollargod. You’ve supported my writing at times when I’ve felt close to giving it up. I hope I did your OTP justice, hon.  This works as a standalone fic, but it could have a part II, so we’ll see. 

A/N Pt. II:  Thanks to sweetasscas, who I consider my authority on Destiel, for giving me the green light to post this!

That strange place between night and dawn, when stars scatter into hiding but the moon refuses to give up her throne, the morning’s palette bleeding upward from the horizon, is when Castiel awoke.

His back ached, legs too long for such a narrow space pulled uncomfortably upward at the knee. Arms and legs had gone numb, still resting in the twisted positions they first landed, awkward and foreign, and not moving as he requested.

He couldn’t quite register where he was, yet. Wasn’t sure he wanted to.

There should have been two pillows under his head; 200-thread count sheets, dove grey; a walnut nightstand; a metal-stem reading lamp; and a silver-framed photo, the faces beneath the glass veiled under a layer of dust, for it had been awhile since he had remembered to look at it.

Instead, there was leather, the faint scent of engine oil, and a window filled with retreating shadows.

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CSAU Chapter 1 - Lean On Me

Ok so remember when I said this would be out Monday?  I LIED.  I GOT TOO EXCITED.  Not only about the release of this first chapter (FINALLY) but also because IT IS honestlynatalie‘s BIRTHDAY (technically not here yet, but it IS in her weird Norwegian timezone).  This chapter is being released JUST FOR HER TODAY ON HER BIRTHDAY.  ROSIE IS FINALLY HERE NATALIE

Read on AO3

Word Count: 3,466

[Disclaimer: The first section is pure canon happenings from the beginning of episode 19 in order to achieve a smoother transition into the AU]

“Fine, so I’m a vampire,” Carmilla admitted, as the gang looked around uneasily at each other, “But I couldn’t have made off with either of the two cupcakes because I was here with you, and then I was here being ambushed by toddlers the whole time.”

“Well maybe you have some kind of vampiric accomplice,” Laura exclaimed.

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