dumb things I want for TS4
  1. the ability to name cowplants
  2. the ability to bulldoze lots from map view
  3. child support
  4. inheritance
  5. laundry
  6. the ability to change the opacity on makeup
  8. better, more plain, swatches on base game beds
  9. real garage doors
  10. cars (they don’t even have to work, I just need the aesthetic for houses)
  11. graveyards
  12. sims 3 traits (the really dumb ones): coward, brooding, diva, technophobe, hates the outdoors, neurotic, etc.
  13. really just more traits (I miss the more personality based ones)
  14. a nice, simple, bathroom sink to put in counters (they’re all for kitchens)
  15. more planter boxes for gardens
  16. green wall colors that aren’t ugly
  17. better kitchen cabinet sets (don’t even get me started on this)
  18. the ability to paint portraits
  19. actual group photos
  20. swing sets for my kiddos (and adults too)
  21. really just more playground equipment
  22. more of these new semi-interactive City Living type careers
  23. graduation ceremony for teens when they age up (a rabbit hole even)
The Domestic Garden Witch: Hangin’ Out

So maybe you’re a college witch with limited space and money, limited to the one window in your dorm. Or, maybe you’re a witch without extensive backyard space who wants to start up a magical garden. Perhaps you’re a kitchen witch who wants the freshest herbs right at her fingertips.

For many witches, having a garden seems to be a bit of a no-brainer. After all, plants and magic go hand-in-hand. Plus, when thinking of a witch, it’s hard not to think of a cottage in the woods with a little vegetable garden out front. Unfortunately for the majority of us, our cottage in the woods is a tiny flat, and our garden out front is a windowsill with limited space.

This is when it comes time to embrace your craftiness and bring your garden indoors! Not only does it place your garden in a convenient location, it also allows you to freshen the air, recycle what would otherwise harm the earth, and embrace your witchy green thumb!

Another Indoor Succulent Garden, Josh?

Yeah, yeah, it’s another succulent garden. Bite me. But this goes to show how easy and inexpensive succulents are, frankly! They’re an ideal type of garden for those on a budget or who are limited on time and space. In fact, I’ve often said to my boyfriend (who claims that he has no green thumb whatsoever) that the only way to not have a green thumb is to end up killing succulents. Especially since they’re low maintenance.

I’ve always had a love for hanging gardens. I’m not entirely sure why, but somehow, they always bring a bit of life to a garden. Perhaps it’s because it’s a great way of simulating a three-dimensional landscape in a world where everything is either standing or flat, or perhaps its just the fact that it’s refreshing to see green at or above eye level. Regardless, this project is a great weekend craft for the college witch who wants to bring some magic into his or her home.

Unlike our previous container gardens, this is one that generally has to be crafted from scratch or with a starter frame. A frame can easily be any wooden picture frame, or you can create your own if you’ve access to power tools.

1. Place the frame front-side down. On the back, fasten a wire mesh (such as chicken wire) to the inner edges to cover the opening of the frame. Around the edges of that opening, fasten strips of wood, about a quarter-inch thick, to provide depth to the opening. Then, seal all of that up with a flat board of wood. What you should end up with is a frame with some depth, like a shadowbox frame, with a wire mesh where the picture would usually be.

2. If desired, now would be the time to paint your frame.

3. Once the frame is dry, lay it backside down. Add moist potting mix through the mesh and into the box. Continue doing so until it is packed down and won’t fall out of the box.

4. Take some cuttings and begin planting them in the soil through the wire mesh. If needed, cut the wire mesh to accommodate some larger cuttings. Continue doing so until the wire mesh and soil are mostly covered. Spray with water and carefully hang in an area that receives plenty of light.

Magic In the Wood

Our previous container magicks have taken a look at metal, seashells, and even the magic of recycled items. But it would be a shame if I were to miss the magic that wood can bring to a container garden. After all, there are entire traditions of magic that focus on different woods and trees (those who participate in druidry definitely would know this, especially as Ogham places particular emphasis on trees and wood).

In working with container gardens, the wooden planter box is usually an easy go-to for buying or building, but the type of wood is usually overlooked. Every time my family built a planter box, the only concern was that it was a hardwood (that way it didn’t rot quickly, and could stand up to the weather and usage). But different trees embody different aspects of magic. So from a witchy standpoint, we can add to the magic of our gardens if we incorporate that into our container gardens!

Now keep in mind that these are going to be general correspondences and descriptions. Depending upon where you live, a tree or wood may have different characteristics (for instance, hawthorn may be linked specifically to magic and protection in Europe, but here in California, the oak is usually more linked to that). 

First is the usual hardwood here in California: redwood. Sturdy, tough, and depending on the source, often a rather beautiful reddish pink color, redwood is an easy go-to. Typically, redwood or sequoia can be linked to wisdom, protection, stability, and strength.

Pine is another frequent go-to. Though its color isn’t as striking, it’s qualities of protection, wisdom, prosperity, and strong association with life are great qualities to implement in a garden.

Oak varies from place to place, and from species to species. Here on California’s Central Coast, it’s hard to go too far without seeing a Coast Live Oak, which grows easily here and has a strong feeling about it that makes it seem that it’s constantly watching and constantly protecting. Oaks are nearly always linked with wisdom, and in some cases are so strongly linked to magic that they merge with magical characters (no joke… in some stories about Merlin, he became an oak tree upon his death). Regardless, oak brings protection, wisdom, knowledge, and masculine energies to one’s garden!

Birch is easily recognizable for it’s lightly colored wood, and for its bright white bark. But while it makes for a sturdy wood, it can also reflect aspects of flexibility. For this reason, it can be used in making a box that will encourage adaptation, creativity, and intuition in your garden.

Those are only four examples, and are some of the easiest woods to get a hold of in your local hardware store. Consider the type of wood you’re using when creating a planter. What aspects does it represent for you? And how can you bring its magic into your garden?

May all your harvests be bountiful! )O(

Bear’s Story (part 3)

Having pushed the enemies into the heavily desecrated temple of Pelor.
DM: The fireball hit most of you for full damage, Sorcerer, looks like you bearly survived by making your save.
Bear: I charge up to the guy and yank the fireball wand from him saying, “That’s MY SORCERER!”
DM: Roll for it, str check, no attack bonus.
Bear: (easily makes the check) “YOU NEVER HURT MY SORCERER!” and then I snap the wand.
Everyone at the table gasps.
Bear (ooc): What?
Cleric (ooc): Not sure if it’s official, but when you snap a wand, all its charges go off in an explosion.
DM: And just like her player, Bear has no way of knowing that would happen. So… that’s 49 fireballs all going off in her face. The temple is on fire, the main villain is gone (scratched off the sheet of loot on his body), all that stuff is gone, two henchmen obliterated, and… let’s not make it all bad. Most of the statue is missing now, revealing the stairs into the basement tunnels.
Cleric (ooc): Sorry, Bear. Short life, but that was one hell of an exit.
Once we put out the fires most of the party goes into the tunnels.
Sorcerer (ooc): The planter box in the middle of the temple, if it’s still in good condition, I’d like to plant an acorn in it. “Thank you, Bear. You were the best bear I ever knew.”
Cleric (ooc): Best bear? Heck, I think that’s the only person your character has ever shown any care or concern for in the past 9 years of gaming with you.

His Name [4]

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
Words: 7k
Genre: Angst, Multiple Personality!Au
Summary: Jeon Jungkook is a puzzle with too many missing pieces from his past and too many sides. Somehow, it’s become your job to solve him.
→ Inspired by the Korean Drama - Kill Me Heal Me
Warnings: Topics of mental health. Mentions of death, suicide and medical disorders. 
Disclaimer: Although this piece of work required lots of in-depth research and was attempted to be as accurate as possible, at the end of the day, I am not a psychologist and this is fanfiction. Specific things may be altered or exaggerated for story-telling purposes. Please take all medical terminologies and procedures with a grain of salt. 


His grin has never been bigger.

And it’s contagious, making you smile wide into the apples of your cheeks.

Parchment lines the plush grass, the warm sun embraces your form. Your hair is tied back, the sparse front strands are clumped together in colours, stains streaking across your forehead. But you don’t pay any mind, not when your hands are covered in paint and the brush is held between your fingers.

Every time you steal a glance from the boy, the tip of his tongue sticks past the seam of his lips and his eyes are trained concentratedly on his canvas. “Don’t look.” He mutters quietly, noticing your stare but not looking up from his artwork.

You let a laugh slip. “What? Are you painting me?”

“No.” He sharply quips in embarrassment. “Just don’t look…until I’m done.”

“Alright.” You add a few finishing touches to your own artwork, deciding to splatter some vibrant yellow in the middle. That’s when a thought suddenly strikes you. “Hey, Jungkook.”


Keep reading


Here is my ‘kitchen garden’ I just put together! I’m not sure if anyone has every purchased a wooden planter like this. If you plant it as is, any time you water it the water will run through the seams on it. Not very convenient if you want to keep your herbs indoors! That is why I decided to line this one with thick plastic. I think it looks lovely!

Sundays with Spideypool (#1)

So Im doing a thing now, where Ill be answering Spideypool prompts every Sunday because I love to write them. Drop prompts in my ask box, and Ill try to get to them! NSFW are fine, but my NSFW SP is A. Garfield with Ryan Reynolds, anything with T. Holland will have to be completely platonic. 


This one is for @iwannabebrilliant for the prompt and for @lilithien-bell who is having a rough day. This got a little longer than I thought and heads up for some smut!


Wade loved Peter’s apartment. It was a far cry from his shitty one bedroom on the other side of town. Apparently working at Stark Industries in the science-y tech-y lab thing doing whatever it was geniuses did meant that Peter could afford this adorable little townhome, with it’s little planter boxes full of flowers and one and a half baths and big master bedroom and good sized kitchen with one of those ridiculous island things that only rich people seemed to have and a great big oven and—

Hello what’s this? An adorable boyfriends butt bent over that great big oven whilst baking cookies?

Completely derailed from his initial plan of taking a shower, Wade decided to lean against the kitchen door frame and just…watch…for a few minutes.

“I can feel your eyes on my ass, you giant pervo.” Peter said without turning away from his mixing bowl, and Wade smiled without even bothering to look up from the aforementioned ass. “And don’t even think about propositioning me for kitchen sex because I–” Peter stood on his toes to reach the baking soda on the top shelf of the cupboard. “I am still sore from this morning.”

“You say propositioning like there’s money changing hands.” Wade protested. “You know I’d never treat you like that.”

“Wade.” Peter still hadn’t turned around, concentrating on his recipe. “Last night you handed me a twenty, slapped my ass, and told me to go get myself something pretty.”

Wade ran a hand over his bare scalp and grinned. “And did you go get something pretty?”

Peter wiped a hand on his apron, hooked a thumb in the waistband of his sweats and shoved them down just enough to give Wade a quick flash of something lace.

Ooph!” Peter huffed a laugh when Wade was suddenly pinning him to the counter, rough hands pulling at his pants impatiently. “Get off! I’m cooking!”

“Let me see!” Wade whined and Peter shook his head firmly, holding his pants up so Wade couldn’t move them. “Petey pie, how you gonna flash that at me and then not let me see the rest?”

“It’s called a tease. And if you had patience like any grown man, you would know that good things come to those who wait.”

“That’s true.” Wade admitted, as he slid his hands up and under Peter’s t shirt to pinch and play with his nipples, smiling when he felt his boyfriend’s breath catch. “That’s so true, Pete. I should probably learn some patience.”

“You-you should.” Peter said cautiously– or maybe not so much cautiously as sort of breathlessly because Wade was rocking against him in a very tale-tell not subtle way at all. “But you should also back off, because I have cookies coming out of the oven in about six minutes and if they are burned I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“Who are the cookies for?” Wade asked innocently, and let his teeth scrape behind Peter’s ear, then moved down his neck with licks and sharp little bites.

“Aunt-Aunt May.” Peter stammered and Wade hummed in approval.

“Sweetest old lady I ever did see. You should be making her cookies. God knows she puts up with enough from you.”

“From me?” Peter protested, and went to shove Wade away, but that meant he had to let go of his pants and Wade had them down to his thighs in the blink of an eye. “God dammit.” he sighed, but he wasn’t actually all that upset because Wade made a sound that was a cross between a moan and a growl and damn did Peter love when he sounded like that.

“Red and black.” Wade muttered, leaving one hand under Peter’s shirt on his chest, and letting the other drop to touch the ridiculous lace Peter had put on this morning. “I completely approve of your choice. If I didn’t know better I’d think you wore these for me.”

“I like to bake cookies in them!” Peter retorted, but there was no irritation in his voice, not when he heard the zip of Wade’s fly and could feel Wade lying heavy and hot against him. “Wade, I have cookies in the oven.” he warned again.

“Is that you saying no?” Wade asked, because even after six months he always asked and Peter wasn’t sure if that was because consent was so important to Wade, or if it was because the mercenary still couldn’t believe that Peter wanted him. Either way–

“It’s me reminding you that if the cookies burn because of you, I will kick your ass!” Peter corrected, and then softer- “but you know it’s a yes.”

“Baby boy.” Wade crooned and Peter bit his lip and wiggled a little because he loved loved when Wade called him baby boy. It had been a joke back when they were just Deadpool and Spiderman but now that they were dating…

“Baby boy.” Wade said again. “I promise you won’t burn your cookies. And I know you’re sore so let’s do—” some fumbling, and Peter yelped when oil dripped down his lower back and soaked through the thin material. “Let’s do this. Oh fuck yeah.” Wade thrust sharply, his cock sliding through the mess of oil and against the lace. “Oh fuck, oh that’s good.”

“Wade.” Peter bit out, and arched his back, shoving his ass back against him. “If you get yourself off and don’t take care of me–”

“Hey hey.” Wade grunted as he thrust again, then rolled his hips to up the friction, groaning out loud as he did. “Baby you were the one– spread your legs a little, damn that’s good like that– you were the one to say good things come to those who wait.”

“You can’t be serious.” Peter choked, but he still braced himself against the counter, holding still and letting Wade rut against him as hard as he wanted, those big hands undoubtedly leaving bruises on his hips, but it was fine, god it was fine because Peter fucking loved it.

“Will you please–” Wade was still talking, because not even impromptu almost sex against a kitchen counter could stop his mouth from running. “Will you please just let me do this without complaining?”

“You’re the one who hasn’t shut up.” Peter gasped and Wade bit his ear sharply, grinning when Peter moaned and shivered beneath him.

“Yeah well, you knew that when you fell in love with me.” Wade spread Peter’s cheeks so he could thrust directly against his hole and Peter jerked and swore, and pushed back for more.

Sore be damned.

“Yeah, I fucking did.” Peter nodded frantically. “I did know you never shut up when I fell in love with you and it didn’t stop me, did it?”

“Pete–” Wade’s voice dropped, because even though they were teasing and he was basically trying to fuck Peter through his underwear– he never ever got tired of Peter telling him he loved him. That they were in love. That this was what he wanted. That Wade was what he wanted.

“What?” Peter retorted, but there was no heat in his tone, just affection. “You want to talk about our feelings or you want to ruin these ridiculous panties I’m wearing?”

Fuck!” Wade swore and pushed against him harder, watching the muscles in the beautiful kids arms and back bunch as he braced himself against the counter.

“You better hurry up.” Pete challenged. “Cookies are almost done and you know what that means.” Wade grumbled against his shoulder and spread him further, stroking himself through the lace and slick oil, pushing the head of his cock at Pete’s entrance. “Come on, baby, come on.” Peter was panting now, pushing back against him and Wade shoved the lace panties aside so he was sliding over bare skin.

“Want to be in you.” he half demanded, half pleaded and Peter’s whispered yeah of course, Wade fuck yes had him grabbing the oil and spreading it all over that perfectly smooth skin and pushing deep inside that beautiful body in one quick stroke.

Peter screamed, not because it hurt, but because the stretch was good, and the burn was so good, and he was still open and probably wet from this morning and last night and damn it, damn it nothing felt as right as when Wade was buried balls deep inside him.

It was just good, all of it was so good and Wade must have agreed because he didn’t have time to even move before he was coming, holding Peter against the counter, his hips jerking helplessly as he filled him and Peter put his head down on his arms and tried to remember to breathe.

Wade was good, and he was always going to say yes to his boyfriend, but Wade was big and he didn’t think he’d ever really get used to it.

Which was one hundred percent fine with him.

“Wade.” He tightened his body and smirked when Wade yelped.

Pete! Give a guy a second before you try to vice-grip his dick off!”

“Charming.” Peter said dryly. “But while you were blanked out and drooling on my shoulder the timer for the oven went off.”

“Damn.” Wade sighed, kissing his neck sweetly. “Are the cookies burnt?”


“Are you gonna kick my ass?”

“Well not only did you burn the cookies, but you also managed to do all of this without touching me once so–”

“I touched your butt.” Wade countered and Peter rolled his eyes.

“Without touching what I wanted you to touch.” he corrected. “So yeah. I should kick your ass. But instead…”

“Instead?” Wade said hopefully.

“Instead, help me finish baking the rest of these, and I’ll show you what else I bought, but only if you give me a blow job while I’m wearing it.”

“Oh my god.” Wade eased out of him carefully, pulling the thoroughly ruined panties back up over Peter’s ass, and putting his sweatpants back on as well before tucking himself back into his jeans. “Oh, baby boy, this is like the best punishment for burning cookies ever.”


“Okay.” Wade folded his arms. “I was definitely under the impression that you had bought more sexy underwear, not– not this.”

Peter looked down at his outfit, the flannel bottoms and matching button up flannel top complete with slippers. “What’s wrong with my pajamas?”

“Nothing.” another frown. “I just thought you would be wearing something sexy.”

“Are you saying flannel jams aren’t sexy?” Peter looked horrified.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Wade retorted.

“Well tough shit.” Peter flopped back onto the couch, legs spread, and beckoned for him. “Because I said a blow job and I meant it.”

Wade grumbled some more, but when he dropped to his knees and licked his lips, he was smiling.

“I love you.” Peter leaned over and kissed him, drawing his fingers lightly over the scars that covered Wade’s face, running gentle hands down his equally scarred shoulders and arms. “You know that.”

“I know.” Wade grinned. “I love you too. And I’ll never burn cookies again.”

“You’re lying.”

“Yeah but, are you complaining?” Wade raised an eyebrow, and dropped his head, opening his mouth wide.

Peter shrieked but Wade had his mouth too full to comment on it.


@mariesbookblog @bethy-sue @redqueenblue @rospergs @briefpaperexpert @smolstarkrogers @ironheartng @deathwolfkitten @kagenightray @musicgoddess44 @coffee-and-cookies @tydagoon @kaci1ynn @myfriendstellmeimweird @idkmantoomanyships @junostarkromanoff @the-catnipmadness @ivap99 @angelofthelord67 @shepardvakarian @justyouraveragefandomthrash @kloudbby @iwannabebrilliant @my-url-is-questionable @susieeslei @hxpealice @fucking-glittery-fairy @iona-laia @blacklotus-of-the-black-kingdom @dogressa @chaosia @japanfanpeter @ccrosey96 @katieluvanime @jennareedus @heartofironxoxo @numbahoneviola @beeing-myself-whatever-that-is  @the-ice-goddess @aflores98 @warriorofbooks @adevilcalled @seren1533 @itsallyd @bornwithgasolineheart @dgirl207 @missingart10 @well-youknowhowitis @constancetruggle @ajanamyth @secretlypan @rinkitsune @streetwalker11 @jarvis-is-my-copilot @thekristastrophe @lilwitchybee @blackhearted @deppfan16 @youarenewformetoo @larissaloki @denmark-is-amazing @catchingthefox @hotchocolatepulse @godlygeniusesofsoldiersarchers @my-halo-is-a-little-broken @ulnusilmukka @dayzor @sultrypickle @sassassin256 @goddess-of-silvers @midnight-rose1216 @xxfangirl18xx @mrunaliniraman


Can I Have This Dance?

( PROMPT: This one-shot is based vaguely off this scene from High School Musical 3 ) 

A/N: I was suddenly struck with the urge to re-watch High School Musical 3, and I really loved the rooftop dancing scene with Troy and Gabriella ( that’s my childhood right there ), so I wrote something based off it! And, I’d just like to say thank you to everyone who reads my stories and offers such nice comments! I may be too shy to reply to them all, but please know that I read every single one of your comments, and I love and appreciate every single one of you. Also - please fill my inbox with more requests of the bae Peter Parker! I love writing for him, and it’s amazing to see how creative all of you are being with your requests and I would totally do anything for him.

Taglist: @mainspidey | @x-wing-starwriter | @tomsleftbrow | @tryn25 | @tanglefire

“When I asked you to teach me dancing, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

Peter’s laughing nervously as you tug harder on his hand, dragging him out onto the school rooftop. You’ve never been up here before, and what you see surprises you. There’s a soft carpet of grass that crunches pleasantly underfoot, wooden planter boxes with fresh flowers and herbs, and even a garden swing and some wooden benches.

“Can’t we just head back to my place?” Peter asks pleadingly, his eyes darting up to rest on the heavy clouds of pewter grey swirling overhead. “There’s Netflix. And popcorn. And –”

“Quit stalling, and get over here!” You call out laughingly, spinning around – with difficulty – on the balls of your heels. As of yet unused to the strappy, heeled stilettos on your feet, you have to take odd, shuffling steps over to Peter. “I didn’t put these for nothing! And don’t you want to be able to impress Liz Allen come prom?”

Peter dumps his bag on the bench, reluctantly shuffling forwards. And this is where your plan hits a slight snag. You hadn’t factored in how close he would be standing, the smell of his cologne ( something spicy and sugary and delicious ), or the warmth of his fingers, fair and wholly familiar as he lifts your right hand in his, and settles his other one lightly on your waist. As you rest trembling fingers on Peter’s shoulder, feel his warm and calloused fingers close around yours, and the burning weight of his hand at your waist, you feel warm, and a little dizzy.

Peter Parker was your chemistry laboratory partner. You’d walked into class one day, saw him sitting at your usual seat, fair, sparkle-eyed, tousle-haired and perfect. Your heart, so used to being lonely, had thumped almost painfully in your chest. The two of you had become fast friends, but by the time you’d managed to muster up your courage to tell him how you’d felt, he’d already developed a crush on the uber-popular Liz Allen.

“C’mon,” You say encouragingly, trying to ignore the spikes of jealously eating away at your heart. “Can’t have you stepping on Liz’s feet at prom.”

Peter laughs, shuffles his feet nervously. “Right. Okay. What now?”

“Okay, now move your left foot forwards, and step to the side with your right – No, not that side! Your other side!”

“Geez, (Y/n), you sure we’re doing this right?”

“’Course I’m sure! My dad taught me!” It’s one of the father-daughter bonding moments that you can actually remember. “Let’s go on.”

“It’s going to rain! Can’t we continue in, say, a month’s time?”

“Rain-schmane.” You say, sticking your tongue out childishly, even as a drop or two of fat rain runs through your hair. You can already see strips of lightning in the distance, blending in with the perfect lines of light from the downtown skyscrapers. It won’t be long now before the storm. “The prom’s on Saturday, you know. The clock’s ticking!”

“Funny, I thought that was the thunder.”


You continue calling out instructions to Peter, correcting his footing and posture, uncomplaining even when he steps on your toes. Alright, maybe you did squeal a few times, much to Peter’s embarrassment, but as much as your feet protest at the rough treatment, you find yourself loving every moment of it.  Love moving through the space in his arms, your bodies close together, your thighs brushing, the scent of his clothes and hair, close and fresh –

Your face feel warm. You wonder if your shirt is soaked with sweat.

How sad is it, that you’d jumped at the chance to teach him dancing just so that you could spend more time with someone who didn’t return your feelings?

“I think you’ve got the hang of this,” You remark, glancing up at Peter as the two of you begin your second turn about the floor, still relatively slowly and carefully. “Let’s try it with music!”

You have to laugh at the utter look of horror on Peter’s face. “Music?”

“It’ll be fun, promise.”

Wriggling out of Peter’s arms – and trying to ignore the sudden sense of loss trammelling through you – you dig your phone out from your bag. You scroll through the songs on your phone until you find the one that you’re looking for and hit PLAY.

“Really?” Peter asks, eyes aglow with amusement. “High School Musical? Wait –” Realization breaks over his face, like the sunrise over the clouds. “– Is that why you insisted on binge-watching all three movies yesterday?”

“It was a good series!” You say defensively, humming along to the first strains of the soft, familiar song. “And you were totally rocking out with me when ‘A Night to Remember’ came on.”

“Think they’ll play it at Prom?” Peter asks wistfully, holding you close once again.

“We could always bribe the DJ,” You suggest, his comment surprising a little laugh from you. “Heck, I could be the DJ.”

It’s not like you’ll be doing anything come prom night besides lounge around in your pyjamas and eating your weight in chocolate. Besides, you’re sure that your collection of songs on your phone is way better than whatever the hired DJ has planned.

“I bet your set list consists of only High School Musical songs.”

“Er … Maybe?”

As the singers croon about catching lightning in smooth, dulcet tones, Peter hesitates for the briefest moment before stepping into the dance. The first steps are stilted, but as he gains confidence, the two of you are soon spinning and whirling about with the same smooth alacrity as the dancers in the movie.

You’re floating on a cloud, held steady by the firm grip on your hand and waist. Even with your high heels and the butterflies coming to life in your belly, you’re twirling about like a princess in an old-fashioned movie.

Dizzy and flushed with happiness, you let out a high pitched stream of giggles, burying your face in the crook of Peter’s neck. Stupid! You curse yourself, but you don’t have it in you to pull away. Peter laughs, not minding in the least, making no attempt to push you away, sounding just as giddy as you feel as he lifts you up into the air.

He’s stronger than he looks, you think vaguely, feet flying out behind you as you shriek with joy. The two of you barely notice that the heavy drops of rain have begun to fall in earnest now, plastering hair to faces and clothes to bodies.

And as you cling to Peter, feeling the closeness of your best friend in your arms, and the warmth of him on your skin, you think, “This is enough. This is enough.”

And it is. You can almost forget that he’s taking Liz to prom.


His Name [3]

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
Words: 6.6k
Genre: Angst, Multiple Personality!Au
Summary: Jeon Jungkook is a puzzle with too many missing pieces from his past and too many sides. Somehow, it’s become your job to solve him.
→ Inspired by the Korean Drama - Kill Me Heal Me
Warnings: Topics of mental health, mentions of death and medical disorders.
Disclaimer: Although this piece of work required lots of in-depth research and was attempted to be as accurate as possible, at the end of the day, I am not a psychologist and this is fanfiction. Specific things may be altered or exaggerated for story-telling purposes. Please take all medical terminologies and procedures with a grain of salt. 

Originally posted by jjeonguk

The memories haven’t all but disappeared.

They’re covered, somewhere in the depths of his most vulnerable mind - for reasons you don’t know. It’s a puzzle with thousands of missing pieces but Jungkook is slowly being able to assemble some corners together; a mural gradually becoming tangible.

“I’ve been thinking…” His clammy hands rub together. “And I think I can remember….something.”

“Can you describe it to me?”

His lids flutter shut, a scrunch between his brows as he dives into the vague images. “My mother. It’s my fifth birthday. And I’m outside in the backyard. There are some balloons tied to the fence. I’m throwing one up into the air. It’s blue and really pretty against the sky, floating and drifting slowly. I remember just staring at it before my mother brings out the cake. She smiles at me and then someonesomeone….calls my name.”


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anonymous asked:

What are the batfamily members living spaces like their bedrooms and stuff

Bruce: his room looks incredibly regal and posh, but it’s always kept clean (by Alfred. If Bruce were left on his own it would be a disaster and there would be clothes all over the floor)

Dick: he definitely has glow in the dark stars on his ceiling (who cares if he’s an adult), he’s got tons of posters on his walls (some Batman and Robin ones, Flying Grayson’s posters), keeps photos of family and friends pinned up on a corkboard next to his bed, he keeps it clean except for The Pile. It’s all the clutter that he’s just too busy to take care of

Jason: he keeps his room immaculately clean: he has everything sorted, his books are kept alphabetized, he dusts regularly. His sheets have dinosaurs on them, though nobody knows that. He has an excessive amounts of books in his room (like six bookshelves full)

Tim: his walls are plastered with graphs, charts, newspaper clippings, conspiracy theories. He has piles of coffee mugs, a nice little potted plant on his windowsill, textbooks stacked on a desk with some files and whatnot. His bed is usually a nest of blankets and is almost always unmade

Steph: she has fairy lights around her room to give her that “expert lighting” for photos, she has fluffy pillows and dozens of throw blankets, she has tons of polaroids with her and her friends hung on her walls, her desk has piles of homework and doodles with containers of colorful pens and markers

Damian: his room looks almost like a military bunker, but over time he’s gotten a small little planter box with herbs in it, a lot of cat and dog toys for Titus and Alfred the cat, his shelves have a lot of books on them (a mix of old tomes and young adult novels), he’s got a wall of drawings/paintings that he’s done over his bed

Cass: her room is full of knick knacks and mementos from good times she’s had (that flower crown Steph made her during a picnic, a necklace made from all of the tabs on soda cans from the time Tim tried to down three dozen cans, a jar of paper footballs that she and Jason use when they’re bored), she has a lot of stuffed animals on her bed

Duke: has a lot of Superman and superhero stuff (posters, action figures, whatever he can find), has pictures of him and his family hanging on a bulletin board, has several knit blankets on his bed that weigh a ton, has a few sports pennants hung up on his wall

Barbara: keeps her room fairly tidy, has only a few blankets and pillows, has a desk for her laptop that she keeps exceedingly organized, had a loft bed for a long time (all through college), has a chalkboard wall that she uses when researching and working

Bound to Vengeance

Words: 9006 (

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Drama, Caretaker!Au Disability!Au 

Summary: Revenge. How far and how much are you willing to go?

Originally posted by chokaivlicious

His breath staggers in and out. He runs with numb legs, mind blank.

Finally, he comes to a screeching halt on his heels and throws open the large double doors, brown in colour and engraved with deep swirls.

The judge slams down the gavel. “Silence! Silence! Order in the court!”

Immediately everyone hushes, the lawyers taking their seats once again. “In the circumstances presented, I make the following order.” The judge’s voice ricochets off the high ceilings. Taehyung slowly stumbles forward. “Based on the evidence presented, there is an insufficient link that the defendant’s actions caused the plaintiff’s death. We cannot rule beyond a reasonable doubt and as a result…”

Taehyung’s heartbeat pounds in his ears.

He swallows hard.

“…the defendant, Miss L/N Y/N, is found not guilty.”

No. No. It can’t be.

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