she is so loving and gracious and good and deserves the world

Mutual feeling

Hey beauties!! How’re you all? So it there any body who’d to accompany me to fangirl over stranger things!! I just freaking love it so much like idk it’s just amazing and has me all hyped up! And Joe Keery has got me all drooling over him. Okay that’s enough for now. Hope you guys like it !

Word count :: 2000

2 A.M.

You’ve not been able to get a blink of sleep. It was just a simple thought that had you awake the whole night. Did you felt something for him or it was just attraction towards him. But it seemed more than attraction to you this time. Maybe it actually was different. Maybe you were falling for him. The guy with whom you started to hook up a few months before. It all started when you met him in a pub. His green eyes fascinated you. His face had you drawn to him within a couple of seconds and the other you were in his bed moaning and clutching on his hair. His lips traced down your neck covering it beautifully in purple marks. You never felt more alive ever than you did that day.

You started meeting up occasionally where one thing lead to another and then to another. It all was like on repeat. First your meetings were twice or thrice in a month, then it changed into weeks and none of you realized when it become a daily routine to meet and fuck. And a day left without that felt uncompleted to both of you. You weren’t just his fuck buddy but a friend too whom he shared all his deepest secrets with while you laid naked, legs tangled with his and head on his chest while he played with your hair muttering softly.

It was such an irony how the feeling was electrifying wakening up each cell in your body and tranquilizing making you feel like you were floating and drowned in him. All you could think that time was how soft he was with you. How tenderly and gently he took care of you. He wasn’t like other guys you dated that all wanted was just sex and that’s all. Even though you two, too did nothing but had sex somehow  it was different. The way he touched you, kissed you showed he cared. He always held you like you were made of glass and could break anytime if he gets harsh. The way he looks at you makes you go all dizzy. By this point you knew that ity was nothing but love and for some reason you believed that he felt it too. You could see it. Sense it. Feel it.

You heard your phone buzzed. A huge grin covered your face as you laid on your tummy and grabbed your phone. It was a text from harry. Looking at it, you felt those butterflies in your belly going crazy.

H: Hey beautiful

Y: hey handsome

H: Wanna come over?

Y: Right now?

H: I miss you

Y: Be there in 5 ;)

Jumping out of bed you grabbed your coat with other essentials and hopped inside the car. With rolled down windows you let the cool wind embrace you and kiss your face. The dim lights of London streets made the city glow. It all looked so beautiful. You felt so beautiful. It was the cold air, the smell of autumn, crisp leaves and home. If  you could, you’d dance on the street right away. You pulled in the parking in front of his house and made your way hurriedly to his porch. You ran your fingers through your hair.

Pale yellow lights blinded you and there he stood shirtless wearing his sweats, His hair still managed to stay perfect after all the day and his face still looking so pure and mesmerizing. Without waiting any other minute, you attached your lips to his. They felt so soft and delicious. Harry’s hands rested on your bum as he tumbled backwards kissing you back immediately. Closing the door behind you with your feet you licked his lower plump lip and bite on it that made him moan and taking the opportunity you slide your tongue inside his mouth exploring it dangerously. His tongue soon too was busy playing with yours.

“take my clothes off baby.” You moaned and moved down to trail kisses down his neck. But his hands were quick enough to push you back slowly before you could start to leave hickeys.

“what’s wrong?” You asked narrowing your eyebrows at him. He never turned down the idea of having sex and it all seemed a bit weird to you when for the first time he did.

“Ca-can we just cuddle for a bit?” he asked you softly. The way he was looking at you made you realize that he was about to cry so before that could happen, you nodded your head and took his hand leading to the bedroom. You lifted the covers up and motioned him to go under which he gladly obliged, you smiled and climbed in lifting his head up and putting it on your chest. It din’t took much time for him to snuggle himself to you and taking the warmth of your body.

It all seemed a bit strange. Harry was quieter than ever and certainly felt colder than ever. You laced your fingers with his and brought his icy hand to your lips kissing his skin softly. The cold fingertips made you shudder when in touch with your soft lips. You heard him sigh and breath out against your chest.

“Do you think that I can be good enough for somebody?” He asked keeping his face hidden in your chest. Your heart clutched when you his words reached your eardrums. Was he being serious? He’s one in a million.Any girl in the world would be blessed to have him in her life. Yes a blessing. You never saw someone as mellow and tamed like him. Though he had the world at his feet, he was so ground to earth.

“why’d you think like that sweet? You’re amazing and so generous that any woman in this world would be blessed to have you in her life.”You said running your fingers through his gorgeous locks that looked prominent now-growing back.

“It’s just there’s someone whom I think I’ve fallen for and I just want to know that I’m good enough before i confess my love to her” Harry said pulling away from you. You couldn’t believe that it was happening. It all felt like a dream, an illusion that was surreal. Your heart was thumping fast and your mind started flooding with so many thoughts. All you ever wanted was love and for you love meant Harry. You bite your lip and a sheepish smile took over your face.

“You’re always gonna be too good for someone Harry. That girl is very lucky to have you fallen for her. And may I know who that lucky woman is?” You asked him and held your breath. You wanted nothing more but your name to roll off his lips. Small scenarios like going out as a couple, getting engaged, having kids and growing old together revolved around in your brain making you anxious each passing second. The moment was yours. Yours and Harry. The moment was of love~first love was yours. Like a fairy tale you imagination of having true love was was right there in front of you just a mere seconds away to take your name and you were his. He just needed to say the world and you had your word devoted to him.

“Grace. It’s Grace” Harry smiled. Your eyes shot up to look at him. His face was lighted up not by the lights surrounding you both but the illumination of love that his heart held. His face was bedecked with the feeling just like yours was a few hours earlier and still was but now it all drained out. Your poor heart felt like bursting for holding up all the feelings. The same love that made you feel completed now was now crushing you~suffocating you, making it hard for you tp breath.

All of it was just a hallucination of your mind.

“G-grace” You choked and Harry nodded his head with the biggest smile on his face. Grace was your friend to whom you introduced him a couple months back. She was beautiful. Gracious actually, just like her name. You liked her always. She was very kind and was gentle just like Harry. No doubt she was perfect for him and deserved him. She wasn’t like other girls but was simple and liked to have her feet on the ground.

But she wasn’t there for him when he needed a shoulder to cry on. She wasn’t here when Harry had an asthma attack. She wasn’t there when Harry was lonely. It was you. All along. But yet, he decided to fall for someone who was completely foreign to him. Who knew all his perfection but never knew his flaws like you did. You were with him from dusk till dawn. You always promised yourself to take are of him when you realized how lonely he was.

After the night you both first hooked up, there was something that you saw in him while he was asleep. The way his features were, all pure and innocent. His breath as calm as the ocean but you could feel the tide inside of him. He was indeed lonely and lost and that night you promised yourself to be by his side no matter what. He needed someone.

But you needed someone too. That someone was him. He came like a life savior in your life. He was like a compass who helped you find your way. Just like you were with him through thick and thins, he too was there with you. He stood beside you and lead you to dark. He held your hand when everybody else denied to. He was the sunshine of your dark life that resplendent it like nobody else. And even though so far he spent most of his time talking away with you than her, he made her, his priority. Chose to gave her his heart than to you.

It hurt you to know the bitter truth. And there was nothing left but to blame yourself for not confessing him about your feeling earlier. But you weren’t the one to be blame because poor you found out the day he got to know about his feelings. If you would’ve experienced the feeling earlier then maybe, maybe it could be your name. It would’ve been you who made him feel erotic, made him feel the way he made makes you feel. Maybe it would’ve been you behind the reason of this beautiful smile and feeling of love. But you weren’t. And it did hurt you bad in all the possible way.

The wind that was making you feel alive, choked you now. The lights that glowed you up were now blinding you. The love that once swept you off your feet now pulled you back down breaking everything you had.

“I uh great. It’s amazing Harry. Y-you should go and tell her as soon as possible” You forced a smile. You wanted to laugh at the fact that the smile that was decorated your face once without any efforts had to be forced now. The pain was unacceptable. You didn’t accepted it all to go the way it was going now. You didn’t deserve this.Or did you?

Love is a feeling that heart decides and feels for the person it want to. Certainly, the feeling was mutual. But just happened to be for a different person.

I’m sorry if my writings are not that good and I don’t use much complicated words. I always try to come up with better thoughts and way of writing. Hope you will give me feedback about this.


UPDATED: okay, maybe there might be some SPOILERS for anyone that hasn’t read ACOMAF - you’ve been warned.

Anyway, I wanted to share with everyone a list I made while reading ACOMAF. The list is made up of pages/chapters/certain parts of the book that are my fave or made me feel some type of way.

Hope you enjoy! If you have any fave parts or chapters please feel free to add onto the post!! I’d love to see what your fave parts are!

  • Page 49: Feyre being a sassy lil shit and throwing her shoe at Rhys’ head lmao.
  • Page 62: The whole page but mostly, “You look absolutely delicious today, Feyre.”😩😂
  • Page 95: “We’re not finished with this meal” - Tamlin “Oh, get over yourself” - Feyre // I love Feyre, I really do.😂
  • Page 192: “If that day comes, I’ll find a way to break the spell on Amren and unleash her on the world. And ask her to end me first.” - Rhys about Amren
  • Page 289: When Feyre hears the music and realizes that Rhys had sent that music to her in the prison (ACOTAR). “Because you were breaking. And I couldn’t find another way to save you.” - Rhysand // also the way he “ruins” the moment with his comment about the Weaver.
  • Pages 290-291: When they’re exchanging notes. MAKES ME GIDDY AF FAM 😍 // “Lick you where, exactly?” - Feyre “Wherever you want to lick me, Feyre. I’d like to start with ‘Everywhere’ but I can choose, if necessary.” - Rhysand
  • Page 299: When Azriel and Cassian have to stop themselves from laughing so hard when Feyre makes a comment about being surprised that there aren’t more mirrors in the house for Rhys to look at himself.
  • Pages 335-337: The little argument Rhys and Feyre have because they’re jealous of the time they spent with Cresseida and Tarquin apart. And then my little heart broke when Rhys basically said he was jealous and wanted to be someone Feyre could easily fall in love with and smile at. okay bye, I’m gonna go cry. 😭 // “To the people who look at the stars and wish, Rhys.” - Feyre “To the stars who listen and the dreams that are answered.” - Rhysand
  • Pages 365-367: Rhysand not being playful with Feyre and Feyre wanting him to be his old flirtatious self. The “lacy little unmentionables” talk. 
  • Page 374: When we find out the meaning of the tattooed stars and mountains on Rhys’ knees, “That I will bow to no one and nothing but my crown.” - Rhys “So dramatic.” - Feyre // Feyre bringing lambs blood to Amren and, “You––oh, I like you.” - Amren
  • Pages 399-401: “Amren and Mor told me that the span of an Illyrian male’s wings says a lot about the size of … other parts.” - Feyre // “They also said that Azriel’s wings are the biggest.” - Feyre // Rhys teasing Feyre about being this big badass but “a little free fall makes you scream?” and Feyre’s response of course, “I’ll leave you to rot the next time you have a nightmare.” // The whole wing talk on the bottom of page 400 and all of 401.
  • Pages 413-416: FEYRE SITTING ON RHYS’ LAP GOODNESS GRACIOUS HAVE MERCY ON ME. 😩 // “You are good, Rhys. You are kind. This mask does not scare me. I see you beneath it. “ - Feyre to Rhys.
  • Pages 420-422: Rhys feeling horrible for acting a certain way to his court in front of Feyre (the whole act of him being this high lord). Rhys not wanting her to compare him to Tamlin. WHEN FEYRE CROSSES THE LINE AND HURTS RHYS’ FEELINGS.
  • Pages 426-427: “When Rhys came back, after Amarantha, he was a ghost. He pretended he wasn’t, but he was. You made him come alive again. “ - Amren to Feyre about Rhys. // Amren saying that Rhys thinks he’s the villain. And Feyre saying. “But I forgot to tell him, that the villain is usually the person who locks up the maiden and throws away the key.” “He was the one who let me out.”
  • Pages 437-440: Starfall. Starfall. STARFALL. Rhys laughing. Feyre laughing. Glowing lovebirds. Feyre PAINTING AGAIN. FEYRE PAINTING ON RHYS. FEYRE GIVING RHYS A SMILE. // “You’re exquisite.” - Rhys to Feyre // FEYRE AND RHYS DANCING OH GOD IM CRY
  • Pages 487-488: Feyre telling Rhys about what she used to paint for her sisters while pulling the ash arrows out of his wings. // “What did you paint for yourself?” - Rhys “I painted the night sky.” - Feyre // “I was looking for you, too.” Rhys to Feyre 
  • Pages 492-496: mate. mate. maTe. MATE. MAAAAATE.
  • Chapter 54: It honestly breaks my heart. I reread this and cried because Rhys is known to be so vicious but he does certain things to protect the ones he loves and he’s been through so much and he was raped over and over to keep Velaris protected. To keep his squad and HIS PEOPLE AWAY FROM AMARANTHA. // “But then she snapped your neck.” Tears rolled down his face. “And I felt you die,” he whispered.
  • Pages 544-546: “Feyre doesn’t look too tired. Maybe she could give me a ride––” - Cassian 😂 // “Welcome to the family, Feyre.” - Mor // “We will serve and protect.” - Amren // THE WHOLE FAMILY VIBE MAAAAN
  • Pages 557-558: Feyre trying to get rid of Cassian and Azriel bc she doesn’t need protection lol. Feyre and Rhys exchanging notes 😌
  • Page 571: “Feyre Cursebreaker, the Defender of the Rainbow.” - Rhys to Feyre after the attack in Velaris.
  • Pages 574-575: Rhys hating and blaming himself for what happened to Velaris. // “I don’t deserve you.” - Rhys “We deserve each other. And we deserve to be happy.” Feyre
  • Pages 577-579: “You might be my mate, but you remain your own person. You decide your fate––your choices. Not me. You chose yesterday. You choose everyday. Forever.” - Rhys to Feyre // Feyre and Rhys deciding which room to take together. // THE WEDDING RING GOSH DANGIT.
  • Page 581: “With my life, High Lord. I’ll protect her with my life.” Cassian to Rhys before they go to Hybern
  • Pages 620-621: When Rhys breaks the news to the squad that Feyre is High Lady of the Night Court.

Madam Secretary: Sara Ramirez previews her return to TV | EW

A year-and-a-half hiatus after leaving Grey’s Anatomy, Sara Ramirez will make her triumphant return to TV during Sunday’s episode of Madam Secretary.

The actress will be playing Kat Sandoval, a brilliant political strategist, legendary in D.C. for her talent and for abruptly dropping out of politics until Secretary of State Elizabeth McCord (Téa Leoni) manages to coax her back into the State Department. It’s a character that the openly bisexual Ramirez can relate to, having taken time off to both discover herself and give a voice to the LGBTQ community. So what was it about Madam Secretary that lured Ramirez back to TV? EW turned to the actress to find out:

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: What was it about Madam Secretary that made you want to return to TV in a series regular role?
SARA RAMIREZ: A new position was opening up on Madam Secretary, and it was during a time when I was open to taking a meeting. [Executive producers] Barbara Hall and Lori McCreary were consistent and persistent in their commitment to meeting with me. We wanted to get to know each other to see what was possible. I really appreciate the kind of show that Madam Secretary is; it’s an aspirational and political show, and I found that really attractive as well.

Tell us about Kat Sandoval and what brings her into Elizabeth’s orbit.
Something that I can say about Kat is that she is a political strategist. She’s a retired chief of staff to the U.N. ambassador, she’s known well in D.C. for her talents, she’s also know for her sudden departure from politics following an incident. She dropped out for years, and rumors circulate about why. But after Kat consults on a State Department problem, she realizes she has not entirely lost faith in the system, and she’s inspired by Elizabeth McCord, Madam Secretary, and her team — so much so that she proposes to join the State Department. When we first meet Kat, we learn a little bit about her past, and it clues us to the potential challenges she may face due to rumors around an incident that may have led her to leave politics. Her brain is one of her most valuable assets. In this first episode, we’ll see just how valuable it is, here at home and globally. This episode also shows up some vulnerable truths she’s never owned or expressed about herself before.

Will the show explore her sexuality?
I just met Kat a few months ago, and I’m really looking forward to getting to know her as these episodes unfold.

Do you share any similarities with the character?
One thing that I know that we have in common is we both took a step back from our respective fields for over a year. I understand how important it can be to acknowledge when a break is needed, for whatever reason, especially when the intention is to come home to oneself in ways that couldn’t occur authentically without that time away. So I really respect Kat for knowing and valuing herself enough to make that move in her life.

How is this working experience, both in front of the camera and behind, different from Grey’s?
One of the things that I like about Madam Secretary is that, like I said, it’s an aspirational and political show. It takes place one election cycle in the future, which is kind of exciting, so it’s about four to five years down the line. I really love how it dramatizes certain topical world issues and events. It utilizes its projections to normalize inspiring ways to evolve challenging issues in the world through an alternate reality where the current political situation actually doesn’t exist, and with inclusive characters and cast and crew, off-screen as well. It promotes complex, three-dimensional women. Barbara Hall and Lori McCreary are executive producers, five out of the eight writers on the staff are female, the set has inclusive representation on screen and off, more than 70 percent of the show’s directors this season are women or men from diverse backgrounds, the Secretary of State is played by Téa Leoni — this show is in some ways similar, and different in all these ways.

After the results of the election last week, inclusive politics is not necessarily a distant aspiration anymore, but attainable, which is really exciting. We just saw Andrea Jenkins, the first openly bisexual and transgender black woman be elected to public office in the U.S. My intention for Madam Secretary’s Kat Sandoval is to continue normalizing, strengthening, and celebrating these types of inclusive outcomes in the world. As far as the character is concerned, I’m still getting to know her, but so far she’s different in that she spent a good portion of her life in politics before stepping away from it. Kat is very intentional and clear in her approach, because she knows she’s capable. She’s outspoken and unapologetically herself.

Is it fun to change up your style now on-screen and not have to suit up every day in scrubs?
It’s been a really wonderful experience. Amy Roth, who is the head of the wardrobe department, has been so gracious, kind, and imaginative. I’m just really grateful to be working with her as well. It’s been really fun.

What have you been up to since leaving Grey’s, and what do you think you’ve learned during that time?
It has been a really full year and a half. Taking a step back from the industry has allowed me to take space and get even more clear about things that are important to me. Coming out publicly was an organic decision and one that I spent a lot of energy and time making. It was incremental, not a spur-of-the-moment decision. By the time the Orlando shooting happened, especially in the context of the political climate escalating, I felt an urgency around coming out publicly in ways that I haven’t felt before. This past year and a half has taught me how to embrace myself fully, to never ever be afraid to claim my truth and power in spaces, and that bisexual, pansexual, queer-identified women of color, of all genders, or no genders, deserve to exist fully and equally in any and every space with respect to our visibility, representation, dignity, and various intersecting identities.

It has been a really full year. There were a lot of important events that I got the opportunity to be a part of. There was the ACLU rally in Austin, Texas. Initially, when Gavin Grimm’s case was headed to the Supreme Court, it was really important to me to use my public platform to show up and stand in solidarity with the trans and non-binary community, and when Gavin’s case didn’t make it to the Supreme Court, I got a phone call from the ACLU asking if I was open to participating in a rally in Austin connected to the same hurtful anti-trans legislation. I leapt at the opportunity to not only speak to these important issues, but to also engage local and state legislature. As well as introducing a trans woman of color, I introduced a wonder woman named Ana Andrea Molina, so that was a really important event to be a part of.

Then I was asked to speak at the Equality March in June, and I’m so grateful to the committee of the Equality March in D.C. for giving me the opportunity to speak to issues that are rarely spoken in mainstream LGBTQ advocacy. I was able to speak to the need for a truly intersectional movement, one in which we draw the margins in and center the lives of bisexual, queer, trans, non-binary, disabled, and other communities within our LGBTQ family who lack the access, power, and visibility. So as we move forward the community through the onslaught of anti-LGBTQ legislation and attacks, I think it’s important for us to continue to use these intersectional lines and center these communities, and that Equality March was a really beautiful way to be able to speak to that.

Then there was the LGBT Center in New York, who awarded me with this beautiful Trailblazer Award not that long ago, and that was a really special moment for me. Accepting the Trailblazer Award from the New York LGBT Center was — how else can I describe it? — it was a full-circle moment for me, actually. It was almost a year to the date, actually, from when I publicly came out as bisexual queer at the True Colors Fund event at the L.A. LGBT Center, so that was interesting. Lately, I’m feeling more confident about my purpose and highlighting the issues that are plaguing my community as well as continuing to create solidarity within the LGBT community. You know what else I’m thrilled about? Glenda Testone, who is the executive director of the New York LGBT Center, has expressed her commitment to creating specific bisexual programming, so that was a really wonderful full-circle moment after taking this time.

In hindsight, for everything you’ve done for yourself and the community over the last year, do you feel like it was the right decision to leave Grey’s when you did?

You voiced displeasure with ABC over the Real O’Neals bisexuality joke, which many Grey’s fans took as a sign you probably wouldn’t return to the show. Would you ever consider returning to Grey’s Anatomy?
First I’ll speak to the Real O’Neals portion, and then I’ll speak to the other portion. I was really disappointed that a show on a network that I worked on for over 10 years, playing a bisexual character, would get the greenlight for such a hurtful and destructive comment about our community. The bigger disappointment was that this particular episode was set up to succeed in every way by having PFLAG involved, with a gay actor playing a gay character, in all these ways where all of our community would be protected in every way. However, I appreciate how PFLAG acknowledged the issue and owned their mistake, and so far that is the only party involved taking genuine accountability. To the other point, when Shonda [Rhimes] and I last spoke, we agreed to keep the conversations going, and she knows I’m open to keeping those conversations going.


-Read on here

@bleebug. A little extension of the pancake moment. And for @spartanguard for chest hair comments. Because.  And for: @this-too-too-sullied-flesh on her birthday.

Rating: M

He really doesn’t care.

The Charmings have dragged them all throughout town for the past few weeks and pestered him with questions he seldom had an answer to. What kind of flowers did he like? What was his favourite cake flavour? What colour did he want to wear? (Okay, that one he had cared, but he thought the answer of black was bloody obvious.) Who did he want to invite?

Keep reading

fic: pas de deux

in which arthur wins the tourney at harrenhal and crowns elia like a responsible adult and no one is offended except rhaegar

He’s not going to crown her. He’ll win the joust, because of course he will, but he won’t crown her. Of little else is she so certain.

His eye has wandered, to put it delicately, and he has not been subtle about it either. It was innocent, at first, when the girl had wept at his song, and then turned into something much different. He’s enraptured by her for a reason that Elia has tried and failed to comprehend.

Lyanna Stark is pretty enough, she supposes, in a wild, coltish kind of way, but she’s still half a child, a wolf pup barely out of its den. Only Robert Baratheon seems to be as taken with her as Rhaegar, which, as her betrothed, is at least understandable. But Rhaegar…him Elia has no explanation for.

Keep reading

Shy is as Shy Does

A/N: An anon request where the reader is an intern with the BAU and is significantly younger than Spencer. (I’m going to put her in her early 20s, and Reid at 30.) Spencer is seriously attracted to her, but he is worried about his lack of experience to say anything to her. Eventually, she lets it be know that she’s interested in him. @coveofmemories


After taking an interest in psychology in high school, you’d applied to the Bureau for an internship in college. Nearly a month into your third year, you got a call from Chief Strauss awarding you an intern-in-training for the position of communications liaison. You were working with the current holder of that position, Jennifer Jareau. Maybe one day, after you graduated college, you’d be able to earn a spot on the team. 

The moment you started, you knew this was where you wanted to be. All of the members of the team had been exceptionally gracious and inviting. You’d always assumed that the new person in any situation was bound to get a little bit of cold shoulder, but they’d all been amazing. The youngest member of the team, other than yourself, was Dr. Spencer Reid. Unsure of his exact age, you assumed he was about ten years your senior; the crush you had was enormous.

Apparently, you weren’t all that great at hiding how you felt. JJ noticed. “You know he’s single, right?” she asked, laughing under her breath as you stared out the window of her officer to where Spencer was sitting at his desk. “If you’re into him, I would ask him out. He’s very shy when it comes to those things, so he may not think to ask you out.”

“I might just have to do that,” you replied, turning your attention back toward JJ where you were actually supposed to be looking. “Has he had any girlfriends?” You cut yourself off. You shouldn’t have been getting so personal, maybe she didn’t even know, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Not as far as I know,” she replied, a smile forming at the corners of her lips. “He took me on a date once, but that’s all I know of.” 

Oh crap, you had no idea that they’d dated. “If that’s weird for you, I won’t ask him,” you replied quickly. 

“What? Me and Spencer going out once?” she laughed. “We didn’t date. We just went on one date. Go for it if you’re interested.”

You turned your attention back outside, giving Spencer a small wave as he passed JJ’s office. One of these days you’d build up the courage to ask him. He was so intimidating. Kind, exceptionally intelligent, ridiculously good-looking, funny, interesting…plus he was ten years older. He’d probably never go out with you, but you had to ask.


There is no way she would ever go out with you, Spencer thought to himself as he passed JJ’s office. Y/N had just waved in his direction; he didn’t want to admit the butterflies he got whenever he saw her. She was on the quiet side, like him, and she was also very smart and funny, but she was nearly a decade younger than he was. Why would she go out with him - shy, nerdy, and much older - when she could have someone cooler and closer to her age? Or even someone who wasn’t a 30-year-old virgin. He wanted to ask her out, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever have the courage to do it. As he walked into Hotch’s office, he wished he wasn’t such a coward. Maybe he’d do it one day…but he’d probably need some alcohol. 


“Just go for it, Y/N,” Garcia said as she came up to your desk with a coffee in hand. “You’re staring at him. I know you want him. And you couldn’t do better than Boy Wonder over there.” 

Since JJ had mentioned their date earlier, you’d been wondering why that hadn’t gone anywhere. “What happened with his and JJ’s date? Why didn’t they go out again?”

It had been quite a few years since their date. “I think they just decided they’d be better off as friends.” She shrugged. “What’s keeping you from asking him out?”

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “I’m not used to being the one to ask people out. He’s also older than me, so there’s that. Plus, he’s this big, famous profiler with the BAU and I’m an intern. Why would he want me?”

Garcia slapped you on the back of the head. Since you’d started, you’d gotten closest with her. “You are amazing and deserving of all the love in the world. Boy Wonder would be lucky to have you and vice versa. Just go for it.”

“Right now?” 

Garcia shook her head - her eyes intent on yours. “Right now. Do it.” Whenever you needed it, Garcia was there speaking words of wisdom. You trusted her. Just do it.

“Okay,” you said, standing up from your desk. “I’m gonna do it.” As you walked over toward Spencer’s desk, you could feel the bile rising in your throat. This was so not you. You weren’t the asker, you got asked, and infrequently at that. But Garcia and JJ had said that you needed to be the one to do it because Spencer was super shy. “H-hi, Spencer,” you stammered, feeling every inch the fool. “I was wondering i-if I could ask you s-something.” God, you sounded like a fucking moron. But given that Spencer was also shy - shyer than you - maybe he’d find it endearing. 

“What is it, Y/N?” he asked, the smile on his face making the feeling in your stomach turn to something else. Instead of wanting to throw up, you felt like you had butterflies in your chest. “Something wrong?”

“Not at all,” you replied, pulling up a chair in front of his desk and taking a seat. “I was just wondering, you know, if you wanted to, maybe you and I could go out for dinner or drinks sometime…like a date,” you trailed off. “I know that there’s a bit of an age difference between us, and you’re a profiler and I’m just an intern, but I really like you. I think you’re really sweet, and if you feel similarly, I’d like to go out with you sometime.” As you finished, you felt like you’d made the biggest ass out of yourself and almost got up to just walk away, but he answered. 

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re not just an intern…and I’d like that,” he said, his chest heaving with a weight that was suddenly lifted. “Maybe tonight?”

Careful to temper your reaction, you shook your head and gave Spencer your number so that he could call you later. Once you walked back to your desk, you had a difficult time not doing a happy dance, but you contained yourself - instead, texting Garcia to tell her you’d gone through with it.


After work, Spencer picked you up and you went out to dinner. The conversation had gone much like earlier, some stammering, a lot of blushing and genuine interest in each other. “Would you like to come inside for a drink?” you asked as he walked you up to your apartment. You weren’t the kind to have sex on the first date - you just weren’t comfortable with it, but you had been dying to kiss him since you first started, so you desperately needed to make that happen.

He followed you inside, sitting on the couch while you walked into the kitchen to grab him a beer. You opened the top, the sound of the bottle cap hitting the counter the only noise resounding throughout the apartment, and sat down next to him. 

For a few minutes, both of you sat in silence, taking a couple sips of your beer. But before you knew it, you set the bottle down and turned your head toward his, grabbing the side of his face in one hand and pulling him to you. At first, your lips barely grazed his, but once you could see that he was okay with letting this happen, you pressed them firmly against him, taking in the sweetness of his skin before allowing your tongue to delve inside.

When you deepened the kiss, you heard Spencer moan. You swallowed the sound as you moved your legs over his lap, straddling his thighs. “I’m not sure if you want to be doing this with me,” he said, pulling away slightly.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked. 

“I-I…” he hesitated, looking down, ashamed of what he was about to say. “I’ve never had sex before.”

You smiled, bringing your fingers up to his lips before kissing him again. “I haven’t either. We’ll take it one step at a time…okay?”

Without another word, he relaxed, leaning back into the couch as he tangled his hands in your hair. Neither of you were very experienced in this area, but you couldn’t deny what you felt right now.

anonymous asked:

Could I ask for a Hades/Persephone au with Hades!Jason thinking he doesn't deserve love until Persephone!Dick happens

On the surface, this looks like an easy AU but then I look into the myth of it and everything gets a little (a lot) wonky. I did enjoy writing this though, and this would definitely be something I’d enjoy writing more of!

Bleeding Heart

When the war against the Titans had been won and it was time to choose domains, Jason had been expected to get his pick first. He had been the oldest of the three of them, but Bruce had been the strongest, and the greediest. He’d taken control of the sky and all of her children while their third brother got the sea. Jason had been forced to choose last and he had been stuck with the domain of death.

It wasn’t an easy task, he had to judge the souls coming in and keep a watch over Tartarus ignoring the call of Kronos while Bruce fucked all the women he pleased up on the surface. The only one he was able to talk to frequently was Tim, who brought the souls down to him for judgement. He had to be fair to the souls which meant punishing some and giving others eternal paradise. He would think of the souls there and wonder what it was like to live in happiness forever. 

The other souls were given their punishments and Jason did his best to be creative and to give them something that would lead them to paradise if they could just think. Whenever he saw how they got bogged down by their own selfishness he thought that maybe it was a good thing he was trapped in the underworld. Gods and man alike, he couldn’t understand how they acted for themselves and themselves alone. 

He didn’t understand for the longest time and then Jason saw him.

Keep reading

Birthday Dance

A/N: I know I’m a day late, but here’s a quick little oneshot in honor of Steve’s birthday.  Enjoy!

Summary: All of the Avengers were finally back together and there was no better excuse for a party than the birthday of one of their own. You couldn’t wait to have everyone together again. Your crush on Steve didn’t have anything to do with your excitement…

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Warnings: Language and Drinking

Keep reading

Study Love (Tim Drake x Reader)

Summary: Study session with Tim turns into something special

Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader

Warnings: None

Tagging: @loudmouthwally @feithera

A/N: Thank you so much for 100 followers! You guys are so sweet; I love you to no bounds 💕Here’s a fluffy Tim to make up for all that angst!

much love,

celina drake-wayne 💕 @draketimbers


(Y/N). She’s a wildfire on a sunny summery day, beautiful and destructive. She’s the current in the ocean, guiding marine life home. She’s a bonsai tree, well kept and personal, an ornament to some. She’s a library book, checked out and returned; loved but given away. She’s the sunken treasure at the deepest depths of the ocean, under pressure and mysterious, wanted, but never found. She’s an ever shining star, twinkling beside the moonlight, praised and wished upon, granting solitude and newfound hope. She’s the heavy rainfall after a drought, appreciated and fast-coming, burning against the skin and forceful upon impact. (Y/N) is the light in my darkness, a graceful ray of sunshine in my dark corners. Without her, there would be no me, because without light, there’s no shadow.

And when I talk about her, she’s the highlight of my day, and she has my upmost respect and admiration, a beauty upon my violent ridden scars.

Did you see (Y/N) today?

6:37 PM


No, why?

6:39 PM

Jeez, Dick, she looked so perfect.

6:40 PM


You say that everyday, Tim.

6:41 PM

Am I supposed to apologize? I can’t help it!

6:41 PM


I know, Tim.

6:45 PM

She deserves the world!

6:47 PM


I know, Tim. You tell me every day.

6:48 PM

I started blatantly at my wall, totally mesmerized by the idea of her, and everything she is. And the way her (H/C) shined in the flickering fluorescent lights of Gotham Academy; and the way her eyes sparkled in science class, the meaning behind life intriguing her to no bounds. I studied her more than my schoolwork, and I never study.

“Heyyo, Timmy-o.” Stephanie’s voice trickled in my bedroom and I jumped at the sudden booming of her high-pitched octave, “What’re you thinkin’ about? A special someone? What’s her name?”

I shied away, my cheeks turning a soft pink as I played it dumb, “Nobody,” I responded, cut off abruptly by Steph.

“Claire? Ariana?” I much have looked dead, so she took a leap of faith, “(Y/N)? Dude! Did you see her today?” Stephanie became excited, and so did I, even though I haven’t had any coffee in the last half hour.

“She’s so beautiful, oh my god.” I sighed, exasperated, suddenly jumping up when I remembered she was coming over to study tonight, “Oh my god! She’s coming over!”

Steph raised an eyebrow, her ocean blue eyes staring at me in disbelief, “What? Do you have like some robin-sense that’s telling you that?”

“No! We made plans and I totally forgot! Get out!” When Steph didn’t move, I shoved her out, “Like, now!” She laughed and shut the door behind her and I glanced at the clock, 6:51. Nine minutes to clean. I ran my hands through my hair at the sight of case files and dirty coffee cups. I started with the obvious, collecting pictures of dead bodies because, well, they’re dead bodies and she might judge me for having… crime scenes of ruthless murders. It took forever, and honestly I was so scared she might come early, as endearing as that may sound. I released the photos into a black biometric case, and shut it, listening to the soft click of success before taking a deep breath, stacking all the cups, gathering the glassware in my shaking arms. I fumbled with the doorknob and finally threw the door open, practically stumbling through the hallway and down the stairs to see an (Y/N) in all her beauty, talking to none other than Jason Todd.

She laughed her enticing laugh, and my eyes widened to the size of saucers, and when she threw her head back in some death humor Jason probably spewed, she eyes caught mine and her face brightened at the sight, amused by my obvious appearance of distress. She excused herself from Jason and met me halfway up the stairs, “Here, let me help.”

I began to shake my head but she took half of the cups anyway, a laugh escaping her perfect pinkish-red lips, “No worries, my room has twice the amount of coffee cups.”

I pushed away my nerves and spoke with a hidden nervousness, “I wasn’t aware it was a competition.”

Jason looked at me as I said this and furrowed his eyebrows, amused by my sad attempts at keeping some type of conversation going, “You’re an idiot.” Jason muttered under his breath, to where (Y/N) wouldn’t hear. I was grateful he didn’t say it as loud as he internally wanted too, as my whole being would shatter.

The demon however, didn’t have as much courtesy, “She’s been here for three minutes and you’re already making her carry stuff around for you, Drake? Pathetic.”

(Y/N) didn’t have any of this and I was frozen in my tracks as she spoke, “You’re the demonic brat? Cute. I expected you to be more… dark and scary.”

“Maybe I’ll be more dark and scary when I come to kill you in your sleep.” No chill. The demon is going to ruin this for me!

(Y/N) smirked, throwing both Damian and I off guard, “I’ll see you tonight then. I hope you kill me in some crazy extravagant way, and then I’ll make a super catchy headline. Teenage Girl Fed To Domestic Dogs After Getting Decapitated With a Spork. Catchy, right?” She found her way into the kitchen, leaving Damian fuming over her acceptance of his empty threats.

She’s amazing. Fearless. Crazy and infectious.

“Hey, Timmers!” She called and I ran after her, catching up to her in the large open kitchen, “How is your day going?”

“Uh…” I trailed, awkwardly trying to voice my thoughts, “Good, I guess?”

She started laughing, piling the dishes into the sink and grabbing the rest out of my trembling hands, “I know your day was extremely amazing, as I was there to cheer you up.” She whispered the last part, a smirk ever present on her lips.

I was awestruck by her words, as always, and I laughed gently, “Yeah, uh, yep.”

She rolled her eyes and walked over to me in an exaggerating effort, wrapping her arms around my neck and holding her body close to mine, “You’re such a dork.”

I sheepishly looked down upon her shoulders, not finding the strength to look in her gorgeous eyes. Nobody has ever made me feel the way she makes me feel, and it’s scary and joyous all at the same time.

“It’s good to see you.” She paused for a moment, and pulled away, a distant smile leaving a burning memory in my mind, “So, biology.”

I was dejected about our break of contact, and my voice reflected it clearly as we found our way to my semi-clean bedroom, “AP Biology.” I repeated, pulling out my textbook, flipping to chapter 29. She was silent, her concentration attended to the college text pages, her heart and mind accepting the information like a second language, and her eyes trailed over the lines, becoming more excited with every word she read.

She really was something else.

She’s like a river, flowing towards a big world full of opportunity. She’s like the highest mountain, hard to climb but admired. She’s a scientist, full of questions, and curious about the makings of the universe. She’s the northern lights, beautiful and seen by few, honored by all. She’s a solar eclipse, only seen once in a lifetime. But most importantly, she’s a girl. She’s a girl who holds my heart in her hands, carefully tending to it’s every need, just by flashing her pearly white smile. She’s a girl who’s strong, and independent, and intelligent, and beautiful, and wonderful, and nice, and gracious, and grateful, and inspirational, and she’s beautiful. She’s a beautiful work of art that was carved by the gods themselves, her persona radiating amongst all with unbeknownst power and influence.

She’s always been there for me, and for that alone she’s patient and accepting, loving and honorable. I’m not the best kid in Gotham, probably the most closed off. And she’s here anyway, claiming her title as the greatest friend I could ever ask for. And I’m head over heels, bending and twisting to her every need, making sure she’s safe and okay, and healthy and as wonderful as always.

“Tim?” (Y/N) spoke up, her voice sheepish and gentle, lacking the determination I’ve accustomed to listening to. I was already looking a her when she caught my attention and I felt the blood rush to me cheeks. Embarrassing, “I didn’t come here to study. It’s kind of awkward, really. It’s just that I,” She paused, searching for the right words, and my heart was racing beyond measure, “I think I love you. And I know tha-” her words faded out and my heart leapt out of my chest. Oh. My. God. This. Is. Really. Happening. Right. Now. I’m. Going. To. Lose. My. Shit. Oh my god, “And I can’t help but feel so attracted to you, and I don’t think I can handle being just friends anymore because I honestly just want to kiss you whenever I see you and I love being close to you and I can’t help myself when you just hold me in your arms. And you’re so kind, and you make me feel safe. I don’t feel safe with anyone but you, and I don’t know why, but I’m drawn to you like pen and paper. Just like A and B, I think we belong together, and if it’s just me then that’s okay. You deserve the world and I just need to tell you that I think you’re really hot and my heart catches on fire with everything you do and say, even if it’s just simple eye contact.”

Oh my god.

“And I think that you should know that my favorite color used to be green because well, nature, and then I met you and now all I see is blue. I can’t, ugh, oh my this is embarrassing, I’m talking so much. In case you started ignoring me, I’ll give you a summary: I love you, and I think you’re cute.”

I shut my biology textbook, and I was never really reading it anyway, “That was so cute.”

“You’re so cute! Oh my god, Tim! Stop!” (Y/N) s can you just stop my rambling because I really can’t stop, please make it stop-“

“Holy shit, we’re having a moment right now.” I noted, my eyes wide and ecstatic.

“We’re always having a moment, Timothy!” She whisper-yelled, running her hands through her hair, “I don’t know why I’m freaking out so badly right now but help. Help. Me. Calm. Down.”

Acting on impulse, I inched forward and my lips met hers, moving in perfect harmony, the electricity beaming like wildfire between us. This is perfect. Everything is absolutely perfect.


Day 2: Fairy Tale AU

Word Count: 10,006

Warning: Fair warning for those who don’t know this particular tale, this includes discussion of incest (and not the kind that you are thinking of) 

This is the entry I am most proud of, so I hope you all enjoy.

It starts, as most stories do, with a beautiful mother, dead before her time. This mother did not die in the birthing room as she might have in another universe. No, this mother lived through the birth of her daughter and through the first six years of her life. She lived to watch her daughter, her Daenerys, become the joy of the realm. Everyone who met the Princess loved her, but her mother was there to keep her humble and gracious. Though she had a temper that burned like the dragon fire her family was known for, the queen made sure that her daughter learned to control the temper, to only let her ire come out in controlled bursts, careful to only burn those who truly deserved it. The Princess loved her mother and wanted her to be always with her.

Keep reading

Never Easy, But We Try

A/N: This is just a little fic about Maurice and the Prince bonding that I couldn’t get out of my head. Enjoy friends, and happy weekend!


The trip to Paris is not entirely a smooth one, through patchy forests and muddy, uneven terrain after a heavy rainstorm the night before. Still, from his view, the rain is far preferable to eternal snow. Unexpectedly, the wheels slam against yet another tree root that feels like a brick wall, sending the carriage and its passengers jostling–and nearly sending his stomach flying right out of his throat.

He moves to tighten his hold on the person next to him, who miraculously has managed to stay asleep through their entire morning ride. Belle’s head bobs up and down with the rhythm of the carriage, before falling, her weight nestled once more against the nook of his shoulder. Not that he’s complaining. 

He studies what he can of her serene profile, familiarizing himself yet again with the gentle curve of her jaw, the graceful slope of her forehead with those little valley lines that can only mean she’s deep in thought, even in her dreams. Out of some strange yet familiar, domestic habit, his fingers quickly sweep away that troublesome patch of hair out of her eyes, revealing her appealing little nose. He hadn’t thought noses could be appealing (generally speaking, they’re not the most attractive body part); but honestly, everything about her is alluring to him that he can’t stop himself from reveling in her quaint little nose. Regal–that’s what his fellow nobles at Versailles would call it. She has a regal nose.

As if judgement of a person’s station were solely dependent on outward appearance.

He swallows, feeling a knot tighten within his chest. 

There was a time when his view of the world comprised exactly that notion.

“Well,” Maurice huffs from the seat across from him, graciously pulling him from his thoughts, as the carriage settles back into a somewhat easy ebb and flow. “I haven’t had quite this much fun on a long journey since the night I stumbled upon your castle in the woods.”

“What are rocks compared to ravenous wolves?” he quips, before he can stop himself. He almost winces at his tone. Oh, he’s in fine form already. If he can’t even go half-a-day’s journey without uttering some derisive remark, how does he expect to resume the social graces required of him in Paris? All this time closed off from the outside world may have merely distorted his coarse behavior. 

But Maurice chuckles heartily, seemingly oblivious to his impropriety. “Just so.”

When he finally manages to tear his gaze away from Belle, he notices the calm, mischievous twinkle in his father-in-law’s eyes; and it’s a familiar, knowing look, one that tells him Maurice knows exactly what he’s said but doesn’t seem to mind–it’s a look that Belle seems to have inherited and perfected as a means of disarming him as well.

He clears his throat, trying to recover his manners. He’s unsure why he still feels the need to act so formally around Maurice. Perhaps it has something to do with feeling both like a host and a child in his company. “I’m glad you could join us, Maurice.”

Maurice smiles kindly. “Thank you for inviting me along. I haven’t been to Paris since…” His smile fades, and the carriage falls into solemn silence for a moment.

He clears his throat again, unexpectedly even more unsure than before. “I’m sorry. Belle told me…well, that is…”

“Oh, I know about your little magical excursion.” 

As Maurice raises a single, paternal eyebrow, he shuffles in his seat nervously. “Ah. Of course.”

They’re silent for a bit once more, until he remembers where his thoughts had been leading him. “I am…truly sorry. I can’t imagine leaving…the woman you love…” He glances back at Belle, suddenly overwhelmed at even the idea of having to leave her behind, to save a child that doesn’t exist yet. What an impossible choice.

Belle also seems to have inherited from her father the ability to read his thoughts so easily. “It was the hardest decision I have ever had to make,” says Maurice. And when he glances back up at the older man, Maurice’s gaze is fixed upon his daughter, his eyes a bit greyer, carrying some secret horror he cannot name. “But I…I couldn’t leave my baby girl to die. She came first. She always has.”

He has no idea what to say to that, except his heart positively rings with the truth of his father-in-law’s words.

“And besides, if I’d stayed, who knows…I might have ended up alone.”

He understands what that’s like. Had Maurice made a different, easier choice…who knows where any of them would be. Belle’s life has touched so many others. Perhaps it’s a selfish perspective, but he feels that her very presence has changed him the most. And he can’t imagine…a world without Belle seems unlovable and unlivable. His kingdom for a choice, the choice of a simple yet honorable artist. And he wonders, not for the first time, if perhaps he misjudged his own father for depriving him of the chance to say goodbye to his mother. Maybe his father was protecting him more than he realized. Maybe that seeming act of cowardice was really the one good thing his father ever did with his life. 

“Someday…when you have children, you will understand.”

He nods, though he’s not sure what he’s agreeing to. All he knows is he’s grateful in ways he doesn’t even know how to put into words. That ridiculously expensive education, and all he can come up with is, “Thank you, Maurice.”

Maurice frowns, and the man looks so much like Belle that he can’t help but smile a little. “Whatever for, my boy?”

He swallows. My boy. His remembers his own father calling him many things throughout his life, but never that. For being a good person. For being the father figure I never had.

Yet he simply settles for, “For saving her life.” And saving mine. “For welcoming me into your family after…” After everything I put you through. 

He sighs, the guilt of years past creeping up on him again. “I’m sorry,” he finally utters quietly.

Maurice frowns again, and he realizes with a start that he doesn’t see it. Maurice may be a wise father, but in many ways the man still carries the sweet innocence of a child. And once again, he finds himself involuntarily dreading introducing Belle and her father to the aristocracy he’s socially bound to reenter. He knows what they’ll think of their marriage, what they’ll think of Maurice. If Belle thought one small village could hold so much prejudice… It seems wrong, somehow, to bring Maurice back to a place filled with so much hypocrisy. He feels he’s finally beginning to understand why Belle has been so protective of him all her life. 

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you when we first met. I was a fool and…a great deal many other vulgar, unmentionable qualities.” Qualities they’re all going to have to experience again tenfold.

Maurice smiles, ever the patient soul. “You know, one day, you’re going to have to stop apologizing. It’s all been forgiven, my boy. It’s in the past. Besides, you’ve more than made it up to me by making my little girl so happy. Just treat her with all the goodness she deserves–as I know you will–and we’ll call it even.”

He’s reminded yet again, as he so often is, that Maurice is truly one of the best men he’s ever known. It’s obvious now why Belle grew into such a lovely person, with such a gracious figure to guide her and care for her. Maurice may not be gentry, but he possesses the natural generosity of a saint. Versailles doesn’t deserve him. 

And neither does he, he thinks.

“You deserve all the happiness in the world,” says Maurice. 

He starts. For a dreadful moment, he wonders if he’s uttered his thoughts aloud. Or perhaps it’s that mind-reading trick only Belle and Maurice seem to possess. Or it’s possible that it’s merely his own thoughts that have become so open, like a book to be read by the world. Stripped of his mountains of fur and devilish horns with claws to match, he no longer has a disguise to conceal himself beneath. And he’s severely out of practice hiding his feelings.

Still, he knows when to accept kindness offered at face value. 

The men share a smile, until Belle suddenly stirs, lifting her head from her slumber. Immediately, his eyes find hers as she wakes. 

“Oh, forgive me.” She sits up quickly.

He smiles, sweeping a bit of hair out of her face once more. “There’s nothing to forgive,” he answers quietly, just for her, Maurice partly forgotten for a moment. He knows how much she needed rest. She was up all evening before their departure, reorganizing the luggage system, while trying to manage the school accounts for Pierre Robert. 

Her eyes go wide as she glances out the window. “The country!” she cries. “Oh, I’d hoped we’d be near the city by now.”

“It is a long journey.” He tries to soothe her by running his hand across her back, and she does him the decency of at least pretending to be comforted, leaning back into his embrace with ease.

“One that you insisted that we drive for whatever reason.” She shoots him the look.

“Well, it did give us a chance to talk,” Maurice chimes in.

“I see. And what exactly have you two been discussing while I’ve been asleep?” She glances between the two of them, before settling on her father across the aisle. “Nothing embarrassing, I hope, Papa?” 

He has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at her tone.

Maurice settles back into his seat with feigned innocence. “Me? Embarrass my daughter? I think not.”

Belle narrows her eyes before glancing back at him. “You would tell me if he said anything, wouldn’t you?”

He can’t help but tease her. “I believe in our vows we promised that we’d never lie to each other.”

She smacks his shoulder once. 


“You are as bad as he is,” she remarks, wearing a firm frown, but he can spot the easy humor in her eyes that give her away.

“Thank you. I take that as a compliment.”


you can’t bribe the door on your way to the sky

This is how it had to start, right? With repentance? Harry Styles spent his entire adolescence running from one side of a stadium stage to the other, dimpled and grinning, shaking his curls, asking girls to be quiet because there wasn’t any louder he could ask them to scream. 

“Watching Harry spit water and touch his hair makes me want to be a better person,” Rob Sheffield wrote in a review of One Direction’s 2015 tour stop at New Jersey’s MetLife Stadium, and the Direction’s fans nodded fervent yeses, whispered a chorus of amen. One Direction was the most famous boy band in the world and everyone agreed Harry was its rock star, Timberlake but talented (don’t get me started on “talented”), beautiful and gracious and charismatic, bound and destined for serious, long-term, well-earned fame. Real fame. Not that fleeting fake adolescent girl-powered stuff.

So the release of his first solo single was Harry’s moment, and the first thing he did with it was apologize: for leaving, for needing to be on his own. (Just stop your crying / it’s a sign of the times. / Welcome to the final show / hope you’re wearing your best clothes.) He wrote a ballad that swoops and soars, that promises all of the howling, enormous emotion that One Direction slipped into perfectly crafted three-minute pop songs was not being packed away but instead let loose, a bolt of lighting giving way, finally, to the promise of a real storm.

But, and, or, because: you can’t bribe the door on your way to the sky. You look pretty good down here / but you ain’t really good. Listening to this song for the first time in my headphones at four am, up early on my way to the airport, it seemed like a gesture towards his past, a mournful suggestion that he didn’t know how to feel about the status he’d been raised to, the mountains of adulation he’d received, and whether it could ever stand in for actual love.

Having listened to the album, though, I tend to think that he’s also apologizing: for Carolina and Kiwi and Only Angel, for where he knows he’s about to take you, for where he’s not entirely sure you’re going to follow. This song isn’t exactly about not being sure you deserve to be a rock star; it’s also about knowing that you’re a rock star, and not being sure that anyone can love you for it they way they loved you for being young and gorgeous, a beautiful and blessed child.

Harry Styles is about addiction and withdrawal, obsession and abjection, objectification and loneliness. It sounds like the soundtrack to my own fucked up twenties, the long years I spent confusing the power of my cravings with power, period. Harry spends the album alternatively on his knees for women who aren’t giving him what he wants and dismissing the ones who are— just let me know I’ll be on the floor / hoping you’ll come around he sings on Meet Me in the Hallway, before writing off Kiwi’s hard candy as a cokehead, try-hard faker: Holland tunnel for a nose / it’s always backed up, the lyric goes, and later she goes home to a cactus / she wears a black dress / and she is an actress.

So before he let us hear any of that he opened with it’s a sign of the times, this cracked-open apocalypse scream of a song: its admission of bad behavior and its obsession with escape. We’ve got to get away / we’ve got to get away / oh we’ve got to get away. I don’t think Harry’s ever heard Modest Mouse but Isaac Brock asks the relevant question here: where do you run when what you’re running from / is yourself?


paRequest: N/A

A/N: Finally, I finished this!  Sorry it took me so long, I had almost no inspiration for this fic, and I wanted it to be of good quality, not quantity.  Hope you enjoy!

Bucky x underweight!reader

Word count: 1638

Summary: Men want curves, and so does (Y/N).  But, what if she doesn’t have any?  Will no one want her?  Bucky disagrees.

Warnings: self-hate, self-depreciation, angst, throwing up.

(GIF not mine)

Originally posted by caps-bucky

Keep reading

Rachel Miner

Note: I didn’t write this after SeaCon because I was in a really bad place with my depression. I tried writing some things and just wasn’t satisfied with the nonsense I was putting out. So…months later here’s the thing I should have written back then.

Y’all. Can we talk about Rachel Miner for a second? This chick is made of love and magic and I don’t even understand how we got so lucky to have her in our SPNFamily. We all try to take really good care of each other and be kind. Rachel, though…she’s on a different level altogether. 

My friends and I met Rachel before con even officially began. We were standing outside of the hotel with a random assortment of other con attendees whom we had just met. One of the girls in our group informed us that a car had just pulled up and Rachel was arriving. Being who I am, I was terrified and wanted to melt into the sidewalk. The girls decided that we would all shout “Hi Rachel!” together once she got out of the car and was situated. I think three out of eight of us managed to squeak anything out. 

Here’s the really surprising and amazing thing, Rachel was delighted to see us. She seemed so surprised that people were standing there and wanted to say hello to her. We all inched closer and closer to hear her talk. Remember, folks…don’t scare off cast members in the wild. Approach slowly. All of us were trying to give her space and not get yelled at by her handler (btw, her handler was super kind and patient with us.) This was a whole new world for so many of us. A cast member wanted to talk to us

“Guys! Handler’s trying to handle!” my friend called out from the back of our pack. 

Before we could disperse, though, Rachel asked us for hugs. That’s right…she. asked. us. I was blown away. Getting a chance to hug Rachel and speak to her outside of the convention was a highlight of my weekend. My mom has MS (like Rachel) and I know how hard it can be to make commitments and stick to them. It takes so much more effort than completely healthy people can imagine. It meant everything to me to get a chance to thank her for making the effort to come be with us.

Rachel’s panel was an absolute delight. Rob and Rich escorted her on stage (as a true queen deserves.) I was first in line to ask a question on my side of the room. The volunteer leaned over and said that Rachel would talk for a minute and then it would be my turn. Unfortunately, a minute was just about all the prep time I got and I was surprised I got to speak so quickly! 

Even now, I feel a little guilty for my question. I’ve always been a fan of Yellowcard and had only recently realized Rachel had been in one of their videos. Time means nothing to a fangirl, and I asked about the experience of working on the video. She handled my question really well, even though I was backing away like “Please, don’t worry! I don’t even remember what I had for breakfast! You don’t have to remember things from years ago!” 

The best part of her panel was how she spoke from the heart. A friend of mine had been struggling with physical limitation due to chronic pain. It was upsetting her that she couldn’t be as mobile as she wanted to be. Something big happened in that room, though. Rachel spoke of learning to work with what isn’t working each day. She talked about finding ways to restructure plans without surrendering herself to MS. My friend decided to heed Rachel’s wise words and used a wheelchair for the rest of the convention. There was no need to keep causing herself more pain. Because of Rachel, my friend was able to figure out a way to work with what wasn’t working and have a great weekend.

The line to get Rachel’s autograph was super long and definitely took a minute to get through. Here’s the reason, though, she was having a chat with everyone. This lovely woman was taking time to really say hello and ask questions of the autograph seekers. By the time I got to the front of the line, I think I was a little overwhelmed. I had Rachel sign a painting that I had made. It wasn’t fancy or anything. Just a Megstiel thing done with spraypaint and sharpie. It completely blindsided me that she was trying to chat with me. So….I kind of made a goob of myself and probably looked more than a little lost. We went back and forth on where she should sign the painting:

“Where would you like me to sign?”
“Anywhere is fine with me.”
“But, where would make you happy?”
“There is literally nowhere on there that will make me sad.”

It was so crazy for me that she cared so much about me being happy with where her autograph wound up.

As I gathered up my painting, again, I told Rachel how much it meant to me that she was there. And…she started tearing up. Y’all, I am utterly useless when people cry. Like…seriously. All I could do was quickly say “Oh, my god. Please don’t cry? Can I…hug you???” She let me come around the table and give her a hug. It was a great moment.

Finally story to tell you how gracious and cool this woman is:

Saturday of con, I was in the lobby. The wind was blowing pretty seriously outside and I couldn’t think of any good reason to still be out there. I had smoked more than enough cigarettes and didn’t need to freeze to death just hanging out. Through the front door, I saw Rachel getting ready to leave. She had stopped to take a selfie with a fan. Because Saturday!Me is only afraid of Mark Sheppard, it seemed like a great idea to run out and ask for a selfie. I had my camera ready to go and hustled outside before she left. 

Approaching her from behind, I called out “I’m not trying to be a creeper and scare you, I promise!” 

She turned around and I quickly asked for a selfie, which she agreed to (if I was fast about it because she was about to leave!) Looking at that picture now, it cracks me up how well she handled it. I didn’t even realize I had my hood up on my sweatshirt when I approached her. Imagine being in a scooter and having a six foot tall weirdo wearing a hoodie approach you from behind. This woman is grace under pressure.

All of that is to say the following:

We are so fucking lucky to have Rachel with us. I am so grateful that someone as kind and loving as her is part of our family. Over the past month I have seen her grow on social media. She has gotten involved with Wayward and Gishwhes and all sorts of shenanigans and it’s fucking beautiful.

Here’s the thing, though:

Rachel…I see you. It’s really easy to see you’re testing the waters. At times you might feel like you’re playing with toys that might get taken away from you at any moment. I want you to fully understand this: You belong with us. You are one of us. We’re not going to ditch you and decide you’re not cool enough or Wayward enough for us. You are the exact amount of enough that you need to be and you are loved more than you’ll ever know.

TatMas: A Class Act

Okay. So we all know how incredible Tatiana Maslany is in OB, duh. But there is something marvelous about her that that reaches far beyond her acting abilities. Watching the way she has handled herself and her work throughout the years has taught me so much about humility, good work ethic and thankfulness.

 Here are a few (out of many) examples of how she has taught me to be a better person: 

  •  Even though she works 15+ hours some days, she still takes acting classes in the evening. Never resting on her laurels, she tirelessly hones her craft while continuing to deliver flawless performances. 
  •  Anytime the Emmy’s are brought up, Tat never gets upset about the snub, but instead shows genuine gratitude that others would consider her to be in the same circle as the other nominees. 
  •  Whenever someone compliments her in an interview, Tat gives all the credit to her supporting cast and how they respond to her on set.
  •  In Season 1 of OB she busted her knuckles while trying to break open a suitcase. Instead of cutting the take, she shook off the pain and continued her scene without complaining. Oh, and did I mention that in Season 3 SHE WAS ACTUALLY WATERBOARDED IN REAL LIFE. 

 While in uncharted acting waters, Tat continues to give all the praise back to the creators/writers of the show, Graeme Manson and John Fawcett, her supporting cast, hair and makeup and the tech crew. She raves about her clone-double Katherine Alexandre and honestly, if it wasn’t for Tat giving Katherine constant public praise, we would have no idea how great Katherine is or that she is in every episode of the show. 

 Tatiana could easily take all the credit for herself and soak in all the accolades given to her on a daily basis, but she somehow keeps a humble heart and gracious attitude while constantly pushing personal boundaries in her craft.

 Although Tatiana deserves all the praise and fame in the world, Tat strays from showboating, pushing the spotlight off of herself and onto the characters she has developed. This is what a real actor does. Focusing on the art, not just the reactions to the art.

 I know we all love to see Tat on OB every Saturday night killing it, but  I’m honestly just so extremely thankful for her as a human being. 

Flight Risk - One Shot (Lay/Yixing x Reader) [Featured: Lalisa Manoban]

Summary: It takes a lot to get Zhang Yixing to give up you.“What if one day you forget about me?”“Oh darling, what if I don’t?”

Warnings: angst, break-ups, cursing, kissing

Word count: 5, 204

A/N: This one was a request!!!! Thank you to whatever lovely person requested this, I loved writing it! I’m sorry I had to change it a little bit– Y/N is a flight attendant instead of a pilot; Yixing is her boyfriend, not her husband. I decided to change it because it made the course I wanted to take with the story seem more feasible– I don’t see husband!Yixing dumping his wife over insecurity, and I don’t see pilot!Y/N leaving her career. I hope this doesn’t disappoint you! Love, love, love! Follow or subscribe on AO3 for more, where I’m listed as MelWinchester/PichiWrites. Notes and reblogs help me out ever so much (gif not mine)!

Originally posted by royalyeol

“You can’t just tell me to leave!”

You were crying. But then, so was he.

The sky was falling, disintegrating into fractured drops of the sad reality the two of you had dreamt away for so long. It was fitting. Yes, it was fitting that it would rain, that it would pour, that it would thunder and lightning and scream as your relationship fell apart.

Looks like we’re in for some turbulence. Please fasten your seatbelts and remain seated until the cabin light goes off.

Yixing couldn’t even look at you. “Just go,” he choked out, his voice strained with barely-restrained sobs. You didn’t move. Couldn’t move. His tear-glazed eyes slid over to you, to your face, and you almost broke down. “Just go, Y/N.”

He sounded tired. Tired, and absolutely done with you.

So this is how it ends. A crash, right into the ocean, where we drown.

You were helpless to do anything. You kept swallowing, over and over, trying to dispel the tears that shredded any dignity you had. Yixing had always been the sort to comfort you when you cried. But not now. Not this time.

And that made you want to cry harder.

“Baby, please…” you whispered. “Please. Please don’t give up on us. Please give me another chance.”

Yixing shook his head at that, and you saw him grip the kitchen table with considerable force, until his knuckles turned white. “So what?” He asked. “So you can be gone all the time? So I can sit at home without you, while you’re halfway across the world?” He shook his head again. More and more tears fell from your eyes, and your face twisted as you begged your eyes to stop betraying you like this. Yixing wouldn’t look at you. He stared down at the wood of the kitchen table, his kitchen table, in his apartment, where you’d been living since your lease had been up a year before.

And now he was kicking you out.

“Do you even care?” He asked hollowly. You opened your mouth to say, yes, more than anything, yes, I love you, but the words caught in your throat. You couldn’t breathe. After all this time, how could he think you didn’t care? How could he think– after everything the two of you had been through– that this didn’t matter to you?

Did he think you’d forgotten when you’d met? Did he think you’d forgotten the way he’d smiled and you’d stuttered? The way he’d stuttered in return?

Did he think you’d forgotten your first date? When he’d showed up three minutes late and had apologized so profusely that you couldn’t stop laughing? Did he think you’d forgotten the way he’d blushed?

Did he think you’d forgotten the way he was your first everything? First kiss, first boyfriend, first time making love? Did he think that all meant nothing to you?

How could he even ask you if you cared, after all of that?

He mistook your silence for apathy. “Don’t rush to say it all at once,” he spat. You started to shake. Say something, you yelled at yourself. Anything. It was your job, wasn’t it, to use your voice? To soothe and cajole your passengers into following protocol? Shouldn’t you know what to say?

Maybe you should. But you didn’t.

“That’s it,” Yixing said, and it wasn’t a snarl, or a curse, but a sigh. Your eyes jerked into his, and you saw that he didn’t hate you, could never hate you. But he couldn’t love you either.

Not anymore.

“It’s for the best,” he said. “This ends tonight.” He looked away, like he couldn’t bear your gaze. You hoped the weight of your stare would make him change his mind.

“Baby, please.” Your voice was barely audible, but you knew he heard. He always heard you.

But today, he just wasn’t listening.

“Get out, Y/N,” he said, and he stared at his hands. Slowly, he released the table. You felt all of the air leave your lungs. Stop crying, you told yourself. Stop crying. Stop fucking crying. “Get out, and please, if you love me, don’t come back.”

You closed your eyes.

Boom. Crash.

And we drown.

Singapore saw you at your worst. It saw the numb, the catatonic, the apocalyptic. You stared down at the pinpricks of light below and thought to yourself, I deserve this. You’d never been good at expressing your emotions. And it had finally cost you.

“Y/N?” One of your fellow flight attendants approached you timidly that next night, the very night after Yixing had thrown you out of his life and begged you not to come back. “You look like you’re about to cry,” she said. “Your eyes are… dead.”

You rose from your seat at the front of the plane. “Anyone need any refills?” You asked as you stalked down the aisle and away from your co-worker. Your voice was sweet as cherry pie. Before anyone could say anything, the plane jerked a tiny bit, and it was only your practiced legs and well-earned balance that kept you from falling onto the lap of an elderly man.

The scratch of the intercom resounded in the cabin. “Looks like we’re in for some turbulence,” your co-worker said. “Please fasten your seatbelts and remain seated until the cabin light goes off.”

You made your way back to the cabin to sit next to her.

She didn’t comment on your eyes again.

Thailand saw your anger. You slammed the beer bottle back down on your cart after refilling the woman’s glass, not noticing the way she flinched or even the way some of the remaining liquor splashed onto your standard-issue blouse. You mumbled some bullshit phrase bidding the woman goodbye and then pushed your cart back up to the front of the plane.

You thought to yourself, I don’t deserve this.

Your co-worker was silent. She wanted to ask if you were okay.

Instead, she slipped her lucky penny in your pocket when you weren’t looking and hoped you would feel better soon.

Japan saw a mixture of things in you. The anger was there, oh yes, the fire, the rage, the fury. How dare he decide that we’re over? How DARE he decide how I feel about him? Fuck him! If he decides I don’t love him, then I guess I don’t fucking love him, then! But there was also grief. You couldn’t help but miss everything about him, and the angrier you got, the more apparent it got to you that you cared. If only he could see me now…

You knew your work was suffering from your emotional turmoil. Your co-workers had been overly gracious once you’d explained that your long-time boyfriend had dumped you, but weeks kept passing and passing, and two months later, you were still a disaster, but their pity was almost gone.

“Y/N…” Your co-worker– her name was Lisa– pulled you aside after you’d landed, after all of the passengers had left the plane. Some of your other co-workers had left to, to check into their hotel rooms and get some sleep before rising early the next day for your flight back to China. “Y/N, I know it’s not exactly my place, but… you really need to get it together, sweetie.”

You stared at her. What the hell? What the he

“Please don’t get upset!” Lisa said quickly, and her eyes were wide. You noticed that she took a small step back, like you were going to take a swing at her. You faltered.

Am I really that irritable? You thought to the time a week ago when you’d almost decked an elderly man for accidentally brushing his walker against your bum. … Yes.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, and you brought a hand to your temple. “I’m sorry, it’s just–”

“Your boyfriend. I know.” Lisa’s voice was understanding. It occurred to you that she was just about the only person who seemingly wasn’t fed up with your shit yet. You wondered how long it would take her to crack. You gave her about three more weeks before she took a frying pan to your skull.

“Ex-boyfriend.” Maybe two.

Lisa nodded. “Sorry,” she said, and she sounded like she genuinely meant it. “Ex.” There was a pause. “Y/N, would you like to come to my room tonight?” She asked. “I know we don’t know each other that well, but… well, all the other girls are scared of you, and I’m worried you might get fired if you keep on like this.” Another pause. “And I don’t want you to get fired.”

You were touched. For the first time since Thailand, you felt your anger start to ebb, only a little bit. Little. “I’m sorry…” your voice was trailing off, “but, why?” The two of you weren’t exactly friends.

You didn’t exactly have friends. You had acquaintances, yes, and you were always the life of every party, but people you let into your heart? No. You were too terrible at expressing your feelings for that. Until you’d met Yixing back in school, you’d been mostly alone. It had never bothered you– that is, until you’d known there was another way. Not only had Yixing shown you what love was like, but his friends had showed you the value of friendship and camaraderie too. Now, you were without all of them.

Lisa tucked her hair behind her ear nervously. “I’m not sure,” she said honestly. “I just, feel like we could be friends. Is that crazy?”

She hesitated, looking at you like she half-expected you to laugh in her face. Am I seriously THAT miserable?

You shook yourself. Yes. Yes, you were. You forced a smile. It wasn’t half as painful as you’d thought it’d be.

“Not at all,” you said. Lisa smiled brightly and grabbed your jacket and hers. You thought of Yixing as he left the plane. Him, he was probably already over you. He’d always been the better-looking one in the relationship, and he had loads of friends. You were sure he was better off without you.

Well, if he’s better off without me, you thought firmly, then I’m better off without him.

Then, you followed Lisa out of the plane.

In Taiwan, it was Lisa’s idea.

The two of you were drunk off her hotel room’s mini bar, swapping stories and talking shit about each other’s ex-boyfriends. You both lay on her bed, tangled up in each other, still wearing your flight attendant uniforms. You were in the middle of a rampage about how stupid her ex– who had left her around the same time Yixing had left you (she’d taken it MUCH better than you had)– was when she said it.

“You should totally call him,” she said. She sounded so serious that you stopped mid-rant and turned your head to look at her.

“Who?” you asked. The two of you had quickly become friends. With Lisa, it was like all of your inability to express your emotions was gone. She’d seen you cry, seen you rant, seen you overshare and spill your guts, and never had she judged you for it. It was half a year after your break-up with Yixing, and things didn’t hurt as much as they used to. Maybe that was why you stupidly asked, “Your ex?”

Lisa laughed and smacked your arm. “No,” she giggled. “Yixing. Tell him he’s an asshole.” She giggled again. “From Lisa.”

You couldn’t help but giggle too. “He’s not an asshole,” you said, and you meant it. Things didn’t hurt as much as they used to, but they still hurt. And yet, you weren’t as angry any more. Yixing had been wrong to cut you out of his life without talking to you about his feelings. You understood that he’d felt abandoned. You couldn’t blame him for it. With you flying around the world constantly, you’d hardly ever seen him. Of course it had taken its toll on him.

You only blamed him for not factoring how you felt into his decision to end things.

“He didn’t even try to make things work,” Lisa complained. She was definitely drunk. “He just ran off like a scared little boy when things got tough! And you just let him get away with it.” She sat up, and you hurried to follow, but the alcohol made your head swirl. You were still blinking the swirling room back into place when Lisa dug her hand into your pocket and whipped out your phone.

“I’m calling him!” She announced. You rolled your eyes. There’s no way she’d actually do it. You’d only been her friend for a few months, but you knew her enough to know that.

Or, at least you thought you did. Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head when she tapped several times on your screen and then brought the phone up to her ear. She tapped her foot as you heard the phone ring.

“Lisa– what– what–” You spluttered, and you reached for the phone, but she hopped up and danced out of your grasp. Damn her, you thought. How could someone so tiny still be so coordinated after drinking so much vodka?


You reached for the pillow against the headboard and smashed your face into it. No, no, no. This is not happening.

You halfway-heard a low rumble coming from the other side of the line. Your heart seized in your chest.

“Well, clearly not,” Lisa responded. “This is Lisa. I’m using her phone.” More rumbling. “Well, that’s funny, considering if you wanted to talk to her so bad, you could have called her. You have a working phone, do you not?”

You smashed your head against the pillow again.

If you hadn’t been so inebriated, you would have attempted to murder her.

Lisa allowed the male you assumed was Yixing to talk for a moment. Then: “Well, I know you.” Her voice was rife with disgust. “It sounds like an accusation because it is an accusation.” Rumble, rumble, rumble. Drunk, you thought of the rumbling telephones and adults in the Peanuts movies. “If you didn’t want to be accused of anything, you never should have broken up with her in the first place.”

Kill me, you thought up at the sky.

“Of course it’s my business!” Lisa sounded affronted. “She’s my best friend!”

Despite everything else going on at the moment and all of your mortification, you felt your heart flip at her words. She’d never called herself that before. You had a best friend? If you hadn’t been too busy wishing for God to smite you, you would have smiled.

“Well, she never mentioned me because we met after you guys broke up.” Only a small second of rumbling before Lisa cut him off. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m the one who was there for her. Not you. So don’t you take that tone with me, mister.” The rumbling got a little louder. Was Yixing getting agitated? You’d never known him to raise his voice at someone. Even that terrible night when he’d broken your heart, he’d never yelled. “No. Excuse you. Jeez. You know, I’ve been telling her for ages, but Y/N really is better off without you. You really fucked her over, you know that? She loved you. And you tucked tail and ran.”

Okay. That was enough. You sprung up from the bed, and, fighting dizziness with sheer determination, you made your way to Lisa and snatched the phone from her hand.

You held it in your hand for a moment, frozen. That’s Yixing on the line right now, you thought. Oh God. I’m on the line with Yixing. Oh my GOD.

Lisa scowled at you. “If you’re going to steal it, you might as well use the damn thing,” she grumbled, gesturing at the phone. Almost robotically, you brought the device to your ear.

On it, Yixing was speaking. Your heart flipped again. It was him. It was really him.

“… it really is none of your business,” he said. Your heart constricted. His voice was hostile. He’d never sounded hostile before. There was silence on the line as he waited for Lisa to reply, but it was no longer Lisa on the line with him. It was you. And you had no idea what to say.

“… Yixing?” You whispered.

You could sense him pause. “Y/N?” His voice was instantly different. No longer hostile. Soft. Surprised.

On the bed, Lisa scoffed. “Fucker,” she said. You ignored her.

“I’m here,” you said, heart in your throat. Yixing was silent. “I’m sorry about Lisa. We’ve been drinking, and she…” She very much doesn’t like you because you broke my heart.

“It’s alright,” Yixing said, even though it hadn’t sounded alright from his tone just a few moments before. There was a pause. “I miss you, Y/N,” he said after a moment, and your heart stopped.

Of all of the things you’d imagined he would say when you finally spoke again, that wasn’t it. You imagined he’d lie: It’s nice to see you. You imagined he’d pity you: Are you okay?

But you hadn’t imagined that he’d missed you.

If Yixing was deterred by your silence, he didn’t say it. “I miss you so much, Y/N,” he said again. “It’s been almost half a year, do you realize that? And I can’t get you out of my mind. I miss you. I miss you, and I’m sorry.”

You couldn’t breathe. What could you say to that? What could you possibly say, when the man who had broken your heart and cut you out of his life said that he missed you? Should you cry? Beg for him to take you back? Tell him you missed him too?

You closed your eyes. “I have to go,” you said quietly. “Goodbye, Yixing.”

Sometimes, when planes crashed, you drowned.

But sometimes, you grabbed a fucking life vest and held on for dear life.

You were back in China. One year post-breakup, and you were living your life.

You and Lisa lived in an apartment not too far from the airport where you both worked. The two of you flew all over the world and had post-cards and souvenirs from cities on every continent. Your apartment was filled with knick-knacks from Japan, tchotchkes from Europe, gadgets and gizmos from America. Everytime someone visited, they were amazed by your unique collection.

And people visited all the time. Lisa had lots of friends– none as close as you, she always said, with a smile and a nudge, but lots of friends, besides. Through Lisa, you made new friends and met new people. She was always trying to set you up with some nice guy or other, but you were never interested.

“You need to get over him!” She always scolded whenever you turned down her offers for blind dates with ‘the nicest guy ever!!!’.

You always waved your hand at her. “It’s not about Yixing,” you said. And it wasn’t. You just weren’t interested.

You’d reconnected with some of Yixing’s friends. A very energetic, very excitable boy named Baekhyun (whom you’d always liked) had reached out to you to let you know that him and some of Yixing’s other friends had decided to form a band. They were playing their first gig tonight, and you had decided you wanted to go to support them. Just because you and Yixing had broken up did not mean that you needed to sever all ties of your life with him, you had realized.

Of course, Lisa didn’t want you to go without her.

“What if he’s there!” She’d insisted. “You need moral support.”

So you and Lisa were at a bar, watching as a band called EXO took the stage. You recognized some of the boys from Yixing’s friend group, including Baekhyun and a nice boy named Chanyeol, who was playing the guitar. Your eyes slid over each member, and you gasped when you saw him.

Yixing. He was singing. One of the many boys singing, but still, he was there.

Lisa saw where you were looking and narrowed her eyes. “Fucker,” she said.

You nudged her. “Don’t,” you said. “He said he was sorry. And it’s been a whole year. Can’t we put hard feelings behind us?”

Lisa grumbled.

Even if it had been a whole year, you found that matters of the heart were rarely so simple. Your heart ached the more you looked at him, and you longed to ask the bartender for a drink stronger than the hard soda you were drinking, but the last time you had mixed Lisa, Yixing, and alcohol, things had not gone well.

It was during the band’s five minute break that he came over to you. He made a bee-line, actually, his eyes fixed on you, sweet as ever, but focused and sharp. Lisa rolled her eyes. “I can’t be here for this,” she said, and she grabbed her drink and made to leave, just as Yixing arrived.

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Penis-head,” she said, and then she disappeared into the crowd.

Yixing blinked. “Did that girl just call me a penis-head?”

It was the first thing he’d said to you in person since you’d broken up. You cracked a rusty grin. “That’s Lisa,” you said, by way of an explanation.

A look of understanding crossed Yixing’s face. “And it all makes sense,” he grumbled, throwing a look over his shoulder. He didn’t seem to find her in the crowd, because he turned back to you. “She really doesn’t like me, does she?”

You took a sip of your hard soda and tried to calm your heart. “Sometimes, I don’t like you either,” you said.

Yixing winced, but he nodded. “That’s fair,” he said. The music that the bar had put on the fill the silence while the band took its break filled the air between the two of you. You exhaled. You waited for Yixing to say something, maybe, I still miss you, but he said nothing.

You extended the olive branch. “You guys are really good,” you said, and they were. You wouldn’t be surprised if this band took off, big-time. You’d always believed in Yixing’s singing, but before tonight, you’d only ever known him to sing to you in the privacy of the apartment you’d shared. You bit your lip. The memory wasn’t necessarily painful, but it made you ache deep inside.

“Thank you,” Yixing said, and you could tell it was sincere. “That means a lot, coming from you. I…” He scratched the back of his head. “I still remember singing for you,” he said. He looked away from your eyes, as if he were embarrassed. “You were always a good audience.”

“It’s not hard to be a good audience when the performer is even better,” you said, surprising yourself. Where was this flattery coming from? You meant it, but should you really be complimenting him? He had broken your fucking heart. Maybe you needed to take more after Lisa. Maybe you should call him a penis-head and then disappear into the crowd. He deserved it, didn’t he?

Yixing seemed to notice you faltering. His eyes dulled, and he moved closer to you. “I’m really sorry, Y/N,” he said, his voice soft, as soft as it could be in the music-filled bar. His eyes met yours again, and you resisted the urge to look away. It’s fine, you wanted to say, even though it wasn’t. It doesn’t matter, you wanted to say, even though it did. “I shouldn’t have done what I did,” Yixing said. Your breath caught in your throat. “I should never have broken up with you. And I’m not saying that just because you’re here, and you’re more beautiful than you’ve ever been, and you’re free to go home with anyone you like. I’m saying that because I love you. I always have. And I spend every day missing you and regretting what I did, what I said. Lisa was right, that night when she called. I was scared, and I ran away like a coward. I was scared, because you’re always away, and I was insecure without you. I don’t know what I thought– that you would cheat on me, that you would forget about me? I don’t know.” He shook his head. “All I know is, I’m not scared anymore.”

You couldn’t breathe. Slowly, gently, Yixing reached for you, and he brushed the strands of your hair out of your eyes. “I miss you so much, Y/N. Please, give me another chance. I know I don’t deserve you, but I’m begging.” His hand fell away from your face. You wanted to cry. “I love you.”

You bit your lip. “Yixing…” What the hell were you supposed to say to that? You were wondering, and then it hit you: who gave a damn what you were supposed to say? Say what you WANT to say, Y/N, you thought.

“I love you too,” you breathed. You saw Yixing exhale, saw the tension leave his muscles. “I love you too, but now I’m the one who’s scared. You– you left me so easily. Like I was nothing. I’m not sure if I can forgive you. I’m not sure if I can trust you.”

Yixing’s eyes were pained, but he nodded. “Let me make it better,” he pleaded. “I know that trust is a thing built over time. I have plenty of time, Y/N.”

You shook your head. “What if I never trust you again? I don’t want to waste your t–”

Yixing grabbed your hand, and pressed it against his heart. “Waste my time, Y/N,” he said firmly. “Waste my life away. I love you. I love you, and it’s worth every wasted minute.”

Behind Yixing, someone cleared their throat. The boy popped up by Yixing’s shoulder, eyeing you with caution. “Break’s over,” he said to Yixing. It took a second for Yixing to respond, but after a moment, he nodded, his eyes still on yours.

“Be there in a second, Jongdae,” he said. Jongdae seemed to want to complain, but after another look at Yixing’s intense stare, he took a step back.

“This isn’t over,” Yixing said softly to you. Then, quickly, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you after the show?” He sounded so uncertain.

And he should. He had done you wrong. But he was also the sweet boy who had given you your first kiss, your first date. He was your first love.

Maybe even still your love.

You nodded. “See you after the show,” you said, and with a smile, he broke away from you, heading back up to the stage. You watched him as he went, eyes so trained on his form that you hardly noticed when Lisa slid back into her seat at the bar.

“I hope you didn’t get back together with him,” she said disapprovingly, snapping you out of your reverie. When you glanced over, she was sniffing, her eyes narrowed. You wanted to laugh.

“I didn’t,” you said. Then, because she was your best friend, you added honestly, “But I might.”

To your surprise, Lisa said nothing at first, just took a deep sip of her drink. Then, she said with a shrug, “I guess if he makes you happy, then I’m all for it.” You started to grin. Then, she added: “He’s still a penis-head, though.”

You laughed. Then the band started to play again, and you were lost in the music.

This time, Yixing’s was the only voice you could hear.

In Korea, you moved the first piece of furniture into the apartment you and Yixing had just bought.

Lisa was helping, cursing profusely as she did so and spitting her long hair out of her mouth. “Motherfucker,” she exclaimed.

Yixing raised his eyebrows as he stalked in, his eyes surverying the two of you as you plopped the table down in the center of the entryway. “Charmed, as always,” he said to Lisa. She grumbled at him.

“You’re welcome,” she said, letting go of the table. She pointed at it. “That thing is heavy.”

Yixing smiled, an easy grin on his face. “I’m sure,” he said. Then, his eyes went to you. He took you in like you were all of the stars in the sky, glowing not just for him, but for everyone. He loved that about you. He no longer worried about you leaving him, and it wasn’t just because you and Lisa had quit your jobs as flight attendants to work managing sections of the nearby airport.

“I’m tired of being jet-lagged!” Lisa had declared about a year prior.

“Agreed,” you’d said.

So the two of you had moved on with your lives. You were entering a new chapter, one with both your love and your best friend by your side, in a new city where you got to still work in the business you’d grown so used to, but on your terms. As you’d predicted, Yixing’s band had taken off– EXO was now the talk of not just China, but Korea as well. The band had their first tour coming up, soon, so soon that Yixing left the next day. So soon, you repeated to yourself, melancholy. You were sad that he would be going away, but also so, unbelievably proud of him. You’d always known that he had it in him to shine. Now, it seemed, he was starting to know it too. It was just a shame, though, that the brighter he shined, the more he had to be away from you.

Yixing seemed to be thinking the same thing. “Hey, uh, Lisa?” He asked, a little hesitantly. No matter how much you tried to get the two to get along, Lisa just wouldn’t quit her hostility (although it was more playful now), and Yixing could do nothing but walk on eggshells. Maybe in time, they’d become friends. You hoped so. “Do you think I could have a minute alone with Y/N?”

Lisa sneered. “I don’t know, can you?” She asked. Then, she laughed at the look on his face. “Kidding, kidding. Knock yourselves out. I’m gonna go grab something light from the moving van, okay?”

You nodded. “Thanks,” you said, and she waved it away. She was out the door in seconds, and then Yixing was kissing you.

“First kiss in our new home,” you said, grinning against his mouth.

“The first of many to come,” he promised cheesily, grinning too. Then, he rested his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes. “I wish I didn’t have to leave you,” he said.

You thought about it for a moment. “I know,” you said. “But it’ll be okay. I trust you. I trust us.”

Yixing reached for your hand and squeezed it. “I do too,” he said. And you knew he meant it.

You knew that there were no guarantees in love. That loving someone was always a risk, especially someone with a career like Yixing, someone with aspirations and dedication like you. You were both flight risks, but that was okay.

Things Kishi Could Potentially Learn From

So I feel that if Kishi looks back at his manga, The Last, and the novels with hindsight, he can make several adjustments to his story preferences in order to improve their quality, in preparation for Part 3 and Boruto the Movie. These are obviously just my suggestions, but I think that if Kishi incorporated them into his works, they could appeal to a few more people. For instance:

  • Put less emphasis on the main characters.

One of the biggest gripes I had with the main plot was that Kishi focused far too much on Naruto and Sasuke and powering only them up, to the point where only a handful of ninjas in history were on the same level. This is also the main reason why the Sasuke Retrieval Arc was my favourite arc in the whole story. Because not only was it the final time where the other rookie ninjas were portrayed as being on par with Naruto and Sasuke, but also because every single one of them got their moments of greatness (including the Sand siblings) due to the awesome fights that took place, beginning with Choji’s fight with Jirobo, all the way to Naruto and Sasuke’s fight at the Valley of the End. They all had their moments in the spotlight.

However, judging by the fact that all the spoilers concerning Part 3/Boruto the Movie have focused around Boruto and Sarada, maybe Kishi will do the same thing again; make the world revolve around those two and not give enough attention to those truly deserving of it. It’s still relatively early days though so we’ll see. But characters like Mirai for example. She was my joint favourite in the new generation. I loved her design and she seemed to be a Chuunin already judging by the flak jacket. She gave the impression that she could really kick some ass. And speaking of girls kicking ass…

  • Let the females actually properly defeat their opponents, by themselves. Fuck the damsel in distress trope.

Something I feel as though the Novels have done really well so far is the fact that the girls seem to kick a lot of ass in a much smaller time frame. Temari and Ino were very impressive in Shikamaru Hiden, especially when trying to save Shikamaru and Sai respectively. And as we know, Sakura certainly didn’t need any saving in Sakura Hiden. They all managed to kick ass without taking anything away from the guys they were helping/saving. Sakura was a victim of the damsel in distress trope in Part 1, which is why I’m so glad she found her feet in Part 2 and this was no longer the case. In fact, the trope seemed to almost vanish completely in Part 2, but then came Hinata in The Last… and goodness gracious. That’s all I’ll say about that. Kishi may not have written that script but he approved it. So hopefully now he’ll be more inclined to illustrate them kicking more ass in actual combat, and not just being useful from the sidelines by being medics, or sensory ninjas for example.

I heard some people speculating that maybe in the Boruto movie, Orochimaru opts to kidnap Sarada, so Boruto, Naruto and Sasuke go to save her. I can only hope that doesn’t happen. Sarada is an Uchiha, and that name is synonymous with badassery XD.

  • Make sure that this DOESN'T happen.  

That, or ANY romantic pairing between the new generation for that matter. If you wanna include romance, show it between the couples who were canonized in the manga. Show the SasuSaku, ShikaTema, NaruHina, SaiIno and ChojiKarui moments, and show them bonding with their children. Kishi has stated he’s not comfortable with writing romance so why continue writing out of your comfort zone? If he’s adamant about it then he should reserve the romance for the canon couples, (and please for the love of god give SasuSaku some much needed service/interaction!). I think it’d be much better if he kept the relations between the kids strictly platonic. I mean, I’d love to see Himawari looking up to Sarada. I’d love to see some bro moments between Boruto and Shikadai. I’d also love to see some more Team 7 interaction etc. 

I’m a huge fan of all the canon couples and would love to see more romance between them. Not the kids though, definitely not the kids.

  • Don’t make Sarada all about the Sharingan.

In my opinion, in the manga, the Sharingan had far more development than any actual character, and that speaks volumes. It was a simple copying doujutsu when it was first introduced, whereas by the end, it was a supremely dangerous and powerful weapon of mass destruction. Eventually, pretty much all of Sasuke’s techniques were linked to the Sharingan in some way (this includes the standard chidori). He even stopped using the signature Uchiha fire release (Katon), and traded it for his own blaze release (Enton) once he acquired the Mangekyo and was able to mold the black Amaterasu flames.

I’ve seen people wish that Sarada unlocks her own Mangekyo somehow, but honestly I just want her to unlock the regular 3 tomoe Sharingan and that’s it. I’d rather have her learn a variety of ninjutsu techniques, and not focus on doujutsus which will cost her her sight in the long run.   

  • Give the kids identities of their own.

The similarities between some some of the children to their parents, in both looks and personality, are ridiculous. Especially Boruto/Naruto, Himawari/Hinata, Shikadai/Shikamaru, and Inojin who is an awkward mix of Ino and Sai looks-wise. Hopefully Boruto won’t just leech techniques off of his dad. I don’t really wanna see him spam different versions of the rasengan or do constant shadow clone techniques. Give Hinata and Boruto some quality time together and remind him that he’s every bit of a Hyuuga as he is an Uzumaki. I don’t wanna see any jutsu favoritism.  

Same for Shikadai. The guy is basically Shikamaru with Temari’s eyes. Literally everything about him, from looks to personality, screams mini Shikamaru. I hope to see some of Temari’s firm personality in him, and maybe even give the Nara clan a much needed boost in the diversity of the ninjutsu they use. What I’d give to see Shikadai perhaps break free from the Nara shadow binding techniques, and maybe learning a few jutsu from the Hidden Sand Village, courtesy of his mom. 

Kishi got it right with a few of the children though. I see both Sakura (Shanaroo!) and Sasuke (dat smirk) in Sarada, and she doesn’t look or act like a carbon copy of either of her parents. The same can be said for Chocho who definitely inherited Karui’s “I don’t give a fuck” personality, and Mirai who’s just awesomesauce in so many ways.

If Kishi takes these examples into consideration, I and hopefully many others would have less to complain about. 

Think about it Kishi… :P

#1 - Goodbye my almost lover

She was the most stunning bride she had ever seen.

Her smile was brighter than the sun itself. Her ocean blue eyes were shining with love and happiness. The delicate summer wind was slowly blowing in the golden halo of her hair, gathered in a loose ponytail that let some strands escape around her face. Everything about her was perfect, up to the very simple but yet sophisticated dress she was wearing. The fabric was silky and very light, softly glowing under the bright sunlight. It was a very simple, yet elegant summer dress, the kind she had seen on the girl multiple times.

There was a spring in her steps that reminded her of the old times. For a few seconds, her mind drifted to several years ago, when she was the CEO of her own empire and when that girl in white was nothing more than her assistant. Her annoyingly, desperately optimistic, and sunny assistant with a cheap and painful wardrobe made of rainbows cardigans and doubtful trousers. So young and so bright, yet so old and so wise.

Keep reading


Because no one’s done it yet, I thought it was time we had a Princess appreciation post for Jasmine.

First off, her story isn’t about not wanting to marry. Sure her story revolves around being forced into marriage, but it isn’t what she really wants. She says she’s never been outside the palace walls, that she’s told how to speak and how to dress and she’s being forced to get married on top of it all. Jasmine doesn’t want to stay single, she longs for the freedom to make her own decisions and be her own person. She’s playful and sassy and says what’s on her mind rather than being submissive because she wants to be heard. And that’s why her ending is so important, because the boy she chose came from the ends of the earth and battled an all powerful dark sorcerer just to save her, even if he couldn’t legally marry her, even when he could have backed out and left them. And her father sees that she’s right, that maybe she doesn’t need a prince to be better off, and it ends with Jasmine choosing Aladdin.

And let’s talk about how progressive she is? Because I love how on a site like this people still call her the “slutty princess”. Jasmine speaks her mind, she fights laws and social norms she knows are hypocritical and wrong, and she stands up for herself. She knows how sexist the law is that she has to marry a prince, and she rebels. Instead of doing what everyone tells her to, she wears what she likes, says what she wants, and does whatever she can to live her life in the restrictive environment she’s forced to live in, and that’s why she ran away: Because she reached a point where she couldn’t live in the palace and be herself anymore. Which brings up another thing:

She is so wonderfully flawed. Jasmine’s stubborn, sarcastic, she jumps to conclusions, and she does things without thinking. She sees Ali is another jerk and refuses to speak with him, and after A Whole New World she snaps at him for lying to her. It doesn’t matter if they sang, she still thinks he’s only after her money or her power and she’s not afraid to let him know what’s up. And let’s talk about the fact she continuously defies Jafar after he steals the lamp. Because even knowing he could kill her or hurt her father or destroy the kingdom, she defies him even though it’s a poor move. Or how about when she runs away? Because wow, how irresponsible do you have to be if you’re going to leave your kingdom without someone to keep the line going? Let’s face it, if she hadn’t gone back Jafar would be Sultan within the week.

But despite that she’s still compassionate, girly, kind and gracious, caring and headstrong, brave and good. She’s flawed and selfish but she’s still a good character, and above all the idea that you should fight for your right to live your life for yourself and make your own choices is still one I think everyone can get behind.

tl;dr Jasmine’s not just the stereotypical one-dimensional princess she’s advertised as and deserves more respect for sticking up for herself.

|in bittersweet remembrance|

Putting out something small for @stanuary while I’m working on some larger projects!

For Week 3: Memories.

It doesn’t all come back at once, but he’s fine with that. They trickle and they taper, but they come back, with time.

He would have made the most of the last sunset if he’d only known what was to follow. He would have savored the evening air had he known it’d be poisoned an hour later, with smoke and ash and the gut-wrenching feeling that there was more he could have done to stop this.  

He would have paid closer attention to his niece and her fears, had he known that the end of her world meant the end of theirs too.

But it is what it is – and what it is isn’t terrible. He’s a couple memories short of who he’s supposed to be, but this town is alive. His kids are alive. It’s hardly a sacrifice compared to what this all could have been, and even then, they say there’s a way to fix this.

There’s a lot to remember. But the more he tries, the less he recalls.

Keep reading