so-impossible

byte-sized-squip  asked:

Imagine michael and jeremy both having braces and when they try to make out for the first time their braces get stuck together like "hOW DO WE GET YOUR DAD TO HELP US WITH THIS"

i mean its very very very rare for braces to lock while kissing but not impossible so theoretically while it’s unlikely it could happen

michael laughs bc he thinks its funny but jeremy just starts crying

mr heere has to help them untangle and michael’s embarrassed but still finds it funny and jeremy refuses to kiss michael for like a week and a half afterwards and mr heere keeps giving them these Knowing Looks and jeremy doesnt wanna die but like falling into a three-year-long coma instead of making eye contact w his dad every morning doesnt sound too bad

A Little Elriel Fluff

I kinda did a thing because @throne-of-omg-the-feels absolutely killed me with this post and I couldn’t stop myself… (might have gone off on a tangent but I hope you all enjoy it)

Azriel had always had trouble sleeping, especially in the pitch black of the night. It surprised most people, that a shadowsinger like him should have so much trouble in the dark. But the dark… the dark reminded him too much of the cage of his childhood. It reminded of cold rags on the floor, of constant, gnawing hunger and the agony of freshly burned hands.

Even five centuries of freedom hadn’t completely purged him of that little spark of irrational fear, that fear of the dark. It was for this reason he always kept his curtains open the tiniest bit, so that the gentle light of the stars filtered through. Enough of a reminder that he didn’t destroy his bedroom every time he ripped himself out of a nightmare. (For Azriel could walk in darkness and shadow, could dance in it, could listen to its song… but sleep, sleep was another type of vulnerability entirely. Sleep was dangerous.)

Still, even this small precaution wasn’t enough for Azriel to let his guard down and let someone sleep next to him. Oh, he’d had lovers over the centuries - sometimes even ones that stayed for longer than one night. But he’d never laid beside them. (For so long he’d hoped, dreamed, that one day Mor might be the first by his side - glorious, free Mor. But she’d since told him that this dream was impossible… and so he had let it go, in little bits until the last vestiges of it had faded into a beloved memory.)

And then there was Elain. Unexpected and utterly beautiful in every way. She came into his life, into his heart, slowly until one day it hit him, what this feeling that had grown inside his chest was. And she was like him. Different. Different in a way the others couldn’t understand. The seer and the shadowsinger. What a pair they would make. And by the Cauldron, he’d longed to be a part of that pair, a half of a whole… to be something to Elain Archeron that he never been to anyone else before. He longed for her body lying next to him in the cursed dark, quiet and at peace. But he didn’t deserve that kind of happiness, that kind of companionship. Certainly not from someone as wholly good as Elain.

So he hadn’t dared hope that she might pick him, not after Mor and not when she already had Lucien Vanserra for a mate.

And yet she had. She’d picked him over her Cauldren-chosen mate.

And Azriel, damn him, couldn’t refuse her. Not when she looked at him like he mattered.

The second their lips met for the first time, the shadows retreated from him completely for the first time in centuries. They stayed away all night, when he learned her body so thoroughly with his. (She was so heartbreakingly lovely, delicate in a way that was uncommon among their kind… but despite appearances she was not weak. Never weak. Too often did people forget the kind of strength it took to stay kind in a cruel world. And she was a curious creature too, as eager to learn him as he was to learn her. Azriel also quickly found that her shyness did not extend to the bedroom, not with him - Mother above, she would truly be the death of him, one of these days… but he would would only be too happy to go.)

And when they were finally sated, and Elain slid into his side, draping her naked body over his, he did not find it in him to move away. To his eternal surprise, he drifted off into peaceful sleep.

His sleep remained completely undisturbed, to the point that when he finally opened his eyes, he was utterly disoriented. He sat up slightly in the pre-dawn light, running a hand through his ruffled hair and catalogued his surroundings with a shocking lack of panic.

He was home and-

“Elain,” he murmured softly, voice gruff with sleep, as he spotted her lying in his bed with him. Unharmed by his night terrors. Still so devastatingly perfect.

He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her, the bare skin of her back aglow in the light of the slowly rising sun.

Azriel moved closer to her without hesitation, curling his naked body around hers and using a hand to pull her firmly into him, her back curved perfectly into his chest. She sighed contently against him, still fast asleep, and Azriel found himself pressing light kisses to the apple of her cheek, peppering them down and down until his face was hidden in the crook of her neck. His hands roamed freely over her sides with no real intent, simply touching her to revel in the feel of actually having her here with him.

He pressed another soft kiss under her chin, to her throat, her shoulder. Again and again and again, until his mind was filled with nothing but Elain, Elain, Elain.

Azriel immediately felt it when Elain finally awoke in his arms, despite the fact that she kept her eyes firmly closed. A small smile played at her lips, as if she couldn’t quite suppress her happiness.

He kissed her cheek again, lingering there as he spoke. “I’m afraid aren’t quite stealthy enough to fool me just yet,” he whispered, grinning when she sighed with faux disappointment.

Elain blinked her eyes open then, turning her head slightly so she could gaze up at him. Her gaze was soft with sleep, sparkling with quiet, gentle mischief. “I didn’t want to risk you stopping,” she told him, reaching up to trail light fingers down his jawline.

Azriel kissed her behind her ear in response, still grinning like a fool. He didn’t deserve this, he didn’t. But he couldn’t let go of it, of her, either. So he would stay with her, for as long as Elain found him worthy. He would stay for her.

His wing curled in around them then, cocooning them gently until their world narrowed down to this beautiful moment. “Then I won’t stop,” he said.

And he didn’t. He didn’t.

Star Crossed - Part 1 (H.S AU)

Author’s Note: Hi! This is just an introduction to remind the reader that this is an AU story, so if something seems impossible in our world today (or like a year ago), that is why. This story is set in present time, and our planet is exactly the same, except where the characters live (in the U.S) there are laws that have changed the way they live. This story is based on a set of laws in which couples are paired based on their zodiac signs - and incompatible pairs are ruled out by law.  Also, just one final reminder, none of the things mentioned about any of these characters are necessarily true. This story is obviously 100% fiction, AND this chapter is mostly an introduction and explanation of the world they live in - though this is only in the U.S - all the other countries in the world do not live by these rules in the story. Thank you so much for reading. 

                                                    ————–

Maddie’s POV

    The day that I was born had always determined my entire future. Our world has never made sense to me. You’re probably wondering how I can say that, right? The answers pretty simple – our lives are decided for us. A person can only fall into one category – and it is all decided based on the day you enter this world. As a Taurus – my birthday is May 20th - I fell into the population of Earth signs. Straight out of high school graduation, at the age of 18, every young man and woman will receive in the mail, a name that will change their lives forever.

   This name is meant to be their “perfect match.” You see, about 100 years ago, the U.S decided it was time to rid our nation of divorce. In order to do so, they needed a system that would set together two people who were just about perfect for one another. They call it “The Crossing." 

   Now, you’re probably wondering how these perfect couples are paired. There are two different aspects of The Crossing. The first is the “Astrological System.” This system ensures that the two people that are put together are compatible Zodiac signs, and fall under the same category of said signs. It is absolutely illegal for two persons of non-compatible signs to be together in any format that is not considered platonic. This is enforced by a punishment which is not discussed outside the government because no one seems to know exactly what happens. All that is known is that if caught, one of an unmatched pair is taken by officers, and they don’t ever return.

   The second aspect of matching is greatly encouraged, but not required. Any person eligible to be matched has the opportunity to complete a questionnaire type assessment, which is put into a database, and looks for the most similar answers.

   It just does not make any sense to me, though. I am a Taurus, but both my Mother and my little sister, Robin are of the Leo sign, and I love them more than anything. Their both amazing and our signs have never been "discordant” - as the government calls it - as far as I’m concerned.

    Then there’s my stepdad. Chuck (pictured below). The irony is that he’s a Capricorn - one of my signs “most compatible” other signs, yet I hate that – pardon my language - bastard more than anyone else to walk this earth. The reason why? He’s not the man my mother wants to believe he is. She’s convinced herself that she loves him, and I can’t blame her - he puts on quite the façade, acting like he couldn’t hurt a fly. Acting like he loves my sister and me, and Hell, if I didn’t know his true colors he could have had me fooled. But I am no fool. I know who he really is beneath the surface of his pale skin.

    The fact that my mother seems to think she’s found love again, isn’t the reason Chuck and I aren’t “compatible.” I am not upset that he tried to replace my father - what kind of daughter would I be to deprive my mother of the happiness she deserved and needed. No, my problem lies within his character, which has proven itself within the countless bruises that adorn MY pale skin. I’ve received countless blows from him, all because I stepped in front of my little sister the first time he ever showed signs of violence, and because I ‘defied’ his dominance. I’d do it a million times again if I had to, and I have had to. I’m never going to let the world hurt my sister the way it did me.

   Chuck Blaine just is not, and never will be someone I am capable of trusting. In fact, it is BECAUSE of him that I lack the ability to place my trust in any man, cold hearted or otherwise. Maybe that’s why within my stubborn heart I dreading this day so much.

   Since my father was no longer in the picture, my mom was placed back into the crossing system. Specifically, the crossing system for widows and widowers. The way it works is men get their choice at their second wife. As if the first crossing couldn’t be bad enough, the second opportunity is even worse. He acts as if he thinks he and my mother are destined for one another, but I know what he was really after. Money.

   My family wasn’t rich, but when my father died in his car crash, he left every bit of money he had AND his family inheritance to my mother to support our family. My heart aches as I think of my father. A drunk driver hit him, while he was making a turn, on his way home from work one night. The person driving the other car ran a red light.

   My father was one of the kindest people you could ever meet. The saddest part about losing him was that I remembered little of that night. I was only 9 years old, and it was obviously the hardest thing that I have ever faced in my life, so I guess I must have repressed the memories. So how does a family like mine, that’s been through hell and back end up with a freaking monster?

   Well, when your “partner” has passed away, you are given the opportunity to be paired with someone else, of your choosing from eligible “matches.” Divorce is absolutely forbidden, once you’re married, but if you don’t want to marry your match, you can not be re-matched, regardless. Once you’re matched that’s it - you don’t have to love one another romantically, but every year 5 of the new pairs are assigned to “Populace.” This means they have to have a baby. Though, if you DO love your partner and wish for a family you’re allowed to create one on your own. Luckily, my mom wasn’t placed under that duty.

   So, here I am. Sitting on my front porch, swaying back and forth on the squeaky old auburn colored, wooden bench swing, drinking tea from Dad’s old cobalt blue mug, waiting to receive the name that’s going to change my life forever. Yep, that’s right, today is my “big day.” Today’s the day I receive my future in an ugly orange envelope. And it will all start with a simple name, printed onto a sheet of paper. I hear the creaking of the front door and look to my left to see my mom, smiling at me.

 “Today’s the day, huh?” She asks, making her way over to me. She gently sits next to me. I avert my eyes to the mug between both of my palms, watching the steam escape from inside.

  “Today’s the day,” I nod slowly. I crinkle my eyebrows, not knowing exactly how to feel about the situation. To be honest, it isn’t really possible to know how to feel about your crossing until you are holding the results in your hand - maybe not even then.  

    “Hey,” she nudges me gently with her shoulder. I look up into her beautiful blue eyes. Through everything, my mother somehow always managed to have some sort of positive aura about her. I always felt it most when I looked at her eyes. She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, something she always did when I was trapped in my thoughts before she continues. “I’m sure they’ll be great. You earth signs normally are, I mean, you are my whole world kid,” I let out a weak chuckle. My mom and her cheesy jokes, always trying to lighten the mood.

   “Well, you and Robin,” she says. I smile, nodding. She takes hold of one of my hands, lifting it from the mug, she kisses the Taurus symbol on my wrist, that was forced onto me straight our of graduation as a form of identification.

   She wraps both arms around me and pulls me in for a hug. I close my eyes breathing in her lavender scent. She must have been in her garden, I think to myself. I am going to miss those white roses outside my bedroom window. I open my eyes at the sound of the mail truck skidding to a halt on the street in front of our house. My heart practically stops in my chest, then and there, as I realize that it’s time. I stand up slowly, after placing my mug on the wood floor of the porch, underneath the swing. Tea, like my peace of mind, is going to have to wait.   

    “Madeleine Parker?!” The postman announces. It almost sounds as if he’s looking for the winner of some sort of life-altering raffle. 

   “Uh..here” I mumble, waving once to him. It almost feels like a teacher calling roll at school.

   “Congratulations,” he says with a warm smile, handing me my package.

    “Thank you” - I force a smile and grit my teeth behind it. I say thank you not because he’s so excited for my life to placed under someone else’s jurisdiction, but because it’s the polite thing to do when someone hands you something that belongs to you. No matter how unfortunate it is that it belongs to you.

   “Well?” my mom says. I send her a questioning look, starting to tremble on the inside. “giving me looks is not going to change the fact that the rest of your life is inside that envelope. Take your time, but open it, sweetheart,” she says. She walks up to me, kissing me on the head before turning on her heel, and walking back up the porch steps, and swinging the front door back open. I look back down at the envelope in my hands. I stare at it for a second, observing the earth symbol on the front – signifying that I and my new partner are obviously both earth signs - before slowly flipping it to the seal, and tearing it open slowly with my thumb. I take out the sheet of paper and read every bit of information as fast as I can. 

Partner

-Name: Niall James Horan

-Origin: Ireland – relocation year: 2016

Ireland?…that’s pretty cool I guess. He clearly moved here this year.

-Age: 23

..otherwise, he would have completed the Crossing like 4-5 years ago. Since he wasn’t 18 when he moved here, guess it was his choice.

-Birthday: September 13, 1993

-Sign: Virgo


Contact Information

-Phone Number: ***-***-****

Why are they giving me his phone number? What am I supposed to text this person? “Oh hey Niall, my names Maddie I am the person you’re stuck with till the day we die, wanna grab some coffee?” I scoff before my eyes scroll down further until they reach our “Assignment section.”

Assignment(s)

-Assigned Living: 14527 Rose Hill Drive

Rose Hill Drive?… that’s one of the wealthiest living spaces available to new pairs….oh god. Mom must have thrown some of the inheritance into my funds. Oh god, what if we..

-Assigned to Populace: No

Oh thank god. No offense, Horan but you’re still a complete and total stranger as of right now.

-Career(s)

      Male: Music

      Female: None

Music…interesting. Also, I need to get a job urgently… if we’re going to be living in one of the expensive neighborhoods I am going to have to step up.

-Relocation date: 6/1/17

Three Days…I have three days to meet this stranger and move in with them.

Congratulations and best of luck to you Ms. Wilkinson, and Mr. Horan.


Congratulations? Really? How many people are going to say that stupid word to me today?! Is that the best you’ve got?… Whatever. Sighing, I reluctantly walk back up the creaky old porch steps and grab my mug from under the swing before making my way back through the front door, my papers folded under my arm. I walk past the front steps, towards the kitchen, immediately sensing my mother cooking bacon. I place my mug on the island counter, and plop myself down onto one of the barstools with a slight huff, before tossing my packet onto the island as well.

   “Well?” My mom says, peering over her shoulder, a curious look on her face. I pick up the package and read to her everything I read in the front yard. All the while, she cooks breakfast for my sister and I. Luckily, Chuck’s job requires him to get up early in the morning. She puts some bacon on a plate and hands it to me when I get up and add more milk to my tea.

   “He seems…” she pauses for a second, “..interesting.” I can’t help but laugh briefly.

   “You seem pretty calm for a woman who’s daughter just told her she’s about to move into a house with a boy nearly 5 years older than her.” I look at her amusedly.

   “In our world, age is clearly just a number, my dear.”

    I scoff, “Ya until you turn 18, then it’s not your world - it’.”s one place, and one person until the day you die.”

   “Maddie, I know you don’t like it sweetheart, but-“

    “It’s the world we live in, and we can’t change it - yes I know,” I sigh.

    “So have you gotten in contact with this..” she pauses, clearly forgetting his name. I quirk an eyebrow at her, smirking.

   “Niall?” I ask, earning a nod from her, the dopey amused grin never leaves my face as I continue, “and, no I haven’t reached out to him. I wouldn’t even know what to say if I did.”

   “Well, did you look him up on that..instasnap thing you’re always on?” Realizing she’s trying to say Instagram, I try really hard not to laugh at her, but ultimately fail.

   “You mean Instagram?” I snigger, plopping my last piece of bacon in my mouth, chewing it slowly before swallowing it, all while sending my mom an amused look.

   “Ya…That.” She says, embarrassed. She turns back to the stove, flicking the switch off, bringing the pan over to the sink.

   “No, I haven’t but, maybe I will later.” I sigh. Talking to a strange man? As mentioned, clearly not exactly something that appeals to me.

    “Alright, well it’s almost time for Robin’s dance lesson…I think she was looking for her shoes, maybe you could help her?”

   “I’m on it,” I quickly rise from the wooden stool, taking one last sip from my tea mug, and place it in her expecting hand. When she turns and starts scrubbing the dishes I quickly walk around the island, and give her a quick kiss on the cheek, placing my dish in the sink before exiting the kitchen and starting to climb the creaky old steps, making my way towards the second floor. I make my way towards Robin’s door.

   When I reach Robin’s white door, I lift my right arm, and gently brush over the pink flowers with my fingers. Every time they catch my eye - even as I walk to my own room - I remember painting them for her on her 7th birthday after she begged me to. Smiling to myself briefly, I knock on it gently before slowly opening it.

   “Robin?” When I step inside, my heart nearly breaks at the sight of my sister all dressed in her ballet outfit and sitting on her bed crying quietly. Her hands are in her lap, but she quickly raises one to wipe her tear from her eyes before dropping it once more, realizing that I am in her room. She never liked when I saw her cry - she probably learned that from me. I always hated the way people stared at me when I showed emotion. I could always sense them thinking I was the fragile girl who’s dad died.

   “Robin? What’s wrong?” I ask, worried, rushing over and kneeling in front of my sister. I grab both her hands and look up at her, my thumb gently brushing over both of her small hands, that are damp from trying to fight her tears. The first thing I notice is her eyes. Her bright blue eyes that she got from our mom – full of sadness, her cheeks tinted red from crying. I swear, their eyes looked like the ocean. Hearing her sniffle practically breaks my heart into two severed pieces.

   “What’s wrong little bird?” I ask with a frown forming on my face. She smiles slightly at the nickname I gave her so many years ago. When she finally speaks, she gets choked up at her words.

   “Everyone always leaves me..” she mumbles, fresh tears forming in her eyes.

    “Robin..” I gasp slightly, taken aback by her words.She wraps her arms around me and cries into my neck, her sobs echoing through the small pink bedroom my mom and I decorated when I was just 10 years old after we found out Robin was a girl. When my dad was killed in the accident, my mom didn’t even know she was expecting. She found out three months later.

   “Don’t cry little bird,” I whisper.

   “But you’re gonna’ leave, to live with that Irish boy I heard you talking about…” Typical Robin, always sneaking about catching my conversations with mom. “and-and I’m not gonna see you anymore, a-and step-dad - h-he’s gonna-” 

   “Hey!” I quietly exclaim, gently grabbing her sides, pushing her back slightly so she’s looking me in the eyes. “I would never let anything bad happen to you, would I?” I quirk a brow at her. She looks down shaking her head, where her amber brown hair is pulled into a tight bun, with some fly away hairs near her face. I reach out and tuck them behind her right ear.

   “You can’t get rid of me that easily little bird,” I shake my head smiling. She pulls me in for another hug, her tear stained cheek brushing against my shoulder. Her sobbing quiets down eventually, as I rub her back soothingly.

   “I’ll-I’ll still be your best friend right?” She whispers, her voice laced with hope. Even at the age of 9, she was just as sensitive as I am.

   “Of course you will,” I say chuckling at her, “Now wipe those tears, we have pesky little ballet shoes to find,” I say, earning a giggle from her in the process cupping both of her cheeks in my hands and wiping the wiping the rest of her tears – something my mom once did on a night when I cried, missing my dad. My mom was the one who always enforced strength - crying was a weakness to her most of the time. Though I suffered whenever I’d mention my longing to see my father again, or to get to say goodbye to him, she’d shut me out. It was gut-wrenching but ultimately made my skin thicker, maybe even tougher.  It made that night she comforted me incredibly easy to remember, but the thought still sends a sad pang to my heart. I swallow the lump in my throat as Robin backs out of our hug, taking one of my hands, we start to look for her shoes.

   Once Robin and my mom had left I decided to take a long shower to try and ease the stress weighing on my mind. I stepped into the en suite bathroom connected to my bedroom. I flicked on the lights, before removing my sweats, and gray v-neck T-shirt, switching on the water to the shower and folding the clothes neatly. I placed them on top of the closed toilet seat, and draw back the old blue shower curtain, stepping into the bathtub, where the shower water circles the drain.

   I let my lungs consume the steam, breathing it in as I run my fingers gently through my messy dirty blonde hair, that’s been ruffled by my sleep. I got my hair color from none other than..you guessed it, my father. My mom loved to tell me I had his eyes too –that  I was gifted with his blue-green irises, though my eyes actually changed color every now and then. Some days I would look in the mirror and see my dad’s eyes staring back at me, and others my mom’s beautiful blue orbs would surprise me in the morning. There was even an occasion in which my eyes would look almost gray.

   Grabbing my shampoo, I squirt some out into my hand, then place it back on the white marble ledge of my bathtub. After scrubbing the suds of argon oil shampoo through my hair, which had practically grown past my breasts by now, I then do the same with my conditioner, before tying my hair into a bun. Something I have been doing since I learned you’re supposed to let the conditioner sit for a minute or two. Imagine how dumb I felt for not knowing that little fact. I then scrubbed my body clean of sleep as well, and wash my face before rinsing my conditioner, and then wrapping my gray towel around my body.

   I step out of the shower slowly and take in my surroundings for one of the last times that I’ll be able to. Or at least the last time I will be a resident in this house. I always enjoyed my bathroom because it was simple, but it had an almost secret beauty to it. Flicking the lights back off, I walk back into my bedroom, grabbing the clothes I previously folded and throwing them back on. It’s not like I’m going anywhere today. I try to shake away the thoughts of how much I will miss this place- my home, grabbing my iPhone from the nightstand, letting out a puff of air, I collapse on top of my bed.

   I think back to my conversation with Robin. Robin’s always been the kind of young girl that thinks there is good in everyone. That is probably the biggest difference between us. She truly has the purest, kindest little heart I have ever seen in all my days on this earth. It’s no surprise that someone as innocent as she would want to believe there’s good in this messed up world. I see so much of my father’s spirit inside her. What troubles me is how scared she is of those who have proven not to have a nice bone in their body- i.e Chuck. Chuck. Just the thought of that disgusting man’s name sends bile to my mouth, so much so that I almost gag.

   I pull up Instagram typing the name Niall Horan in the search bar, before hitting the search button. I click on the users that pop up until I think I have found the Niall Horan I am looking for – when the bio reads Mullingar Ireland, 23. I request to follow the account before tossing my phone back on my bed. Just when it hits my duvet, though, my screen lights up with a number I don’t recognize.


Messages (2)

- Found my Instagram, eh?

-Oh, btw this is Niall – Niall Horan. I hope you don’t mind – my letter gave me your number, I’ve been meaning to send a message your way all day.

 I chuckle, quite frankly surprised by his kindness. Something about it seems so..genuine. I start typing back quick response-

 Hi Niall, I’m Madeleine….But I am guessing you already knew that. You can just call me Maddie, though. And yes that was me that followed you on Instagram. Sorry I haven’t sent you a message..couldn’t really think of what to say, to be honest.

-That’s alright! I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to meet up at some point maybe tomorrow? We could grab some coffee or something if you want.

Sure, But you should know I am more of a tea kinda girl.

 -Tea it is then! I’ll text you tomorrow so we can work out a time.

Sounds good! Talk to you then.

   I shut off my iPhone, and toss it back down onto my bed before lying down on my back. I just lay there, staring at my ceiling. Well, Niall Horan, it looks like I’ll see you tomorrow. And..every day after that for the rest of my life I guess….

essieincinci  asked:

WAIT - we have been friends for an unspeakable number of years and YOU JUST SAW the princess bride a FEW YEARS AGO??? Did I know this about you and block it out as impossible?

not the princess bride- labyrinth. SEE IT IS SO IMPOSSIBLE THAT MY BRAIN CANNOT HANDLE IT             (2/2)

Haha, I have seen Princess Bride like literally zillions of times!  I can’t even remember when I first saw it (though probably in high school). 

So, yes, it is Labyrinth I only saw one or two years ago.  It was at a theater where you can eat veggie burgers and get margaritas and beer during the show, and it was amazing because everyone in the group of people I went with and the audience as a whole had clearly seen it at least a dozen times over and they were all super excited for EVERYTHING!!!!!!! 

We can still be friends, right?????????

Originally posted by captain-rachel

hellwizards  asked:

olympics au?

forewarning, I don’t know much about sports.  also theres no read more because i’m mad at tumblr.

  • i’ve always pictured delphine as being into running.  so probably track?  maybe one of the longer runny things?  or possibly soccer as a midfield.  i decided soccer for the purposes of headcanon #4.
  • for some reason i’ve always seen cosima as a tennis player?
  • THEY REMOVED SOFTBALL FROM THE OLYMPICS AND I”M SO PISSED BC IT WOULD BE PERFECT FOR SHAY.  shay plays field hockey.  not as brutal as rugby, but she’s super tough.
  • they meet in like the first week, they’re staying on the same floor in the hotel so it’s impossible to not see each other.  they start hanging out bc they have a lot in common.  delphine and cosima have an extra curricular interest in science, cosima and shay in spirituality and other hippy stuff, shay and delphine in holistic healing.  
  • cosima’s never been around physical, rough sports players so when delphine and shay show up to their hangouts progressively more beat up as the tournaments go on she’s worried.  she turns into a hovering, worried mess.  obligatory bandage changing with lingering touches ensues.
  • cosima and shay are open and out to the public.  they make eyes at each other all the time.  delphine is not out.  while france is similar to the states in their homophobia, delphine’s family is one of the weird religious ones so she’s not ready.  she is also making eyes but shay and cosima don’t know that that’s what she’s doing. 
  • there’s some fancy event bc of course there is.  delphine and cosima are talking (*cough* flirting) and shay walks in.  they both have the same slow blink, slack jawed reaction.  in that moment, cosima and shay realize that delphine is also Into It.  they take turns dancing with each other bc ofc there’s dancing at this fancy event.  they all get p tipsy.  
  • somehow shay convinces them to all come back to her room.  in their inebriated state, cosima can’t keep the question inside and asks delphine if she’s gay.  delphine’s like… bi… but yeah.  and somehow shay has got enough game and they all end up sleeping together.
  • each of their teams get pretty far.  canada taking third and france second.  cosima’s doubles matches went nowhere.  her partner, krystal, is an amazing player in singles but they just didn’t mesh well together.  in her singles she ends up ranking eighth in women’s tennis being full of a lot of talent that year..  she’s disappointed but serena williams is tough.  it had been an honor to be beaten by her.
  • delphine is the one to suggest continuing their relationship after.  she actually prefaces it with, “what if i moved to america?”  real subtle..  cosima is surprised, not having been in a relationship in five years.  shay wants to, but she’s not sure her contracts will let her move to another country soon.  it’s just… too sudden.  obviously, delphine’s contracts are also complicated, but she wanted to at least see if it could be a possibility.  (read as: she’s really really sad and rejected and runs away with her tail between her legs.)
  • after they all go home cosima is the first one to crack.  she starts a group chat and they text All the Time.  which turns into skyping.  which turns into long distance relationships.  which turns into them debating which city to move to.  paris is out bc nobody else speaks french.  toronto is out bc it’s too cold.  they settle in san francisco.

send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons about it

McDonald’s facts
  • The special sauce used in Big Macs still remains a secret even to this day. While dataminers have found a number of data involving the ingredients, the optimization algorithm remains unknown.
  • McNuggets were once thought to be procedurally generated via metaball physics but this has been disproven since. What we do know about McNuggets is that a normal texture is applied to the surface to give the illusion of bumps, when in fact the model is made up of very few polygons to reduce costs.
  • All items in the drive thru are not rendered until they are actually taken out of the bag. Physics do apply to them however, so watch out
  • The reason why hamburgers, etc look “better” in promotional content is because the low detail models and textures are used in the restaurant instead. If they did use their high detail models at all times, McDonald’s would have to start dedicating more costs to their worker processes.
  • “All day breakfast” was not possible for a long time due to a glitch where any breakfast data would get corrupted when served at an irregular time. This was fixed in an update that took advantage of faster GPU clock speeds. There have been a few successful attempts to get corrupted breakfasts since, with hash browns producing the most interesting results.
  • The McFlurry machine was intended to be released in an update years down the road, but it was rushed due to time constraints and now we have the infamous buggy and unoptimized mess.
  • I would like to give a fact on the new “Grand Mac” but even the bun’s data is encrypted so it’s currently impossible to even view any of it. 
  • Pete: Hi
  • Brendon: it was the summer of 2001, and Joe meets Patrick and he's like "yo, I know about music." then Patrick's like "yo I know more about music!" "that's impossible. so you wanna start a band?" and Patrick's like, "yeah that's cool." and then, he's like "yo this is a book store not a music store." and then they met at Patrick's house. so Patrick's wearing shorts, socks, and a hat. Patrick is playing drums for some fuckin' reason and then Pete's there for some reason. and they start playing music together and they're like "oh, let's play some covers from some other bands." it was like Green Day, and fuckin' Misfits, and fuckin' Ramones. Pete said to Joe, "yo, that's dope, but we need a fuckin' drummer." because Patrick's playing drums and he's a singer. Patrick's like "yo, I got a soul voice," and they're like "wait how do you have a soul voice?" and he's like "yo, watch this: YEEEEEEeeeeeeEEEEEEeeeeeeeeEEEeeeeeeAAAAAAAAaaaaAAaahhh!" and they're like, "oh my god, that sounds like soul!" so they put it in a song, and it was like, "WHERE IS YOUR BOY TONIIIIIIIiiiiiIIIIIIIIIiiiIIIIIIIGHT?!" and they're like "yo that's fuckin perfect, this is Fall Out Boy." and they made records like Evening Out With Your Ex-Girlfriend. Evening Out With Your Ex-Girlfriend, everybody loves it. "it's called Evening Out With Your Girlfriend." with your ex-girlfriend. it's called evening out with your Ex-girlfriend. it's called eating out your girlfriend, and it's real and it doesn't matter. and Pete talked to Patrick and Joe and he's like "you what the fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. yo, this is gonna be fuckin' doooooooooope!" so they made a record and it was called Take this to Your Grave. they made it without a drummer, and they had like 3—4 drummers come in. The four drummers they had come in were like Josh Freese, Neil Pert, the dude from Toto, the fourth one was like the guy from Papa Roach or something, and they're like "you, we need Andy Hurley. Andy Hurley. Take This to Your Grave. Fuckin' record it." and he did, and he killed it, and he was like "bigidalililililillillilila, PSHHH!" killin' the skin, tapping the skins, tapping the rim, playin' the shit, killing these bitches, rapping it out. you're getting a fucking tattoo right now?! what the fuck is going on?! We should get signed to Fueled By Ramen, 'cause thee guys know what the fuck is going on. and they were like "yo, if you can make our scene any bigger than it is, which is not fuckin' hard, we will sign you guys." and Pete was like "yo, we got this record that's fuckin' dooooooope, dude, it's called Take This to Your Grave, it's called From Under the Cork Tree it's gonna be fucking huge." and then Patrick's like "I gotta keep it real, I gotta keep it artistic, these are three songs that are gonna make the album and it's called-BURP-Thnks Fr th Mmrs, 20 Dollar Nose Bleed, and Sugar, Were Goin' Down. and they made this record that was fuckin' dope, and it fucking hit on the charts like one two three, three two one, three four five six seven eight nine ten. ten to one. From Under the Cork Tree sold like four million records. ten million records. fifteen million records. and Brendon Urie had nothing to do with the entire record. and Patrick was like "that's gooooOOOOoooooOOOOOOOOd." Pete was like, "yo, fuck you I can do whatever I want." and Joe was like, "yeah it's cool man whatever I don't give a shit." and then Andy was like "eh, cool." and Pete was like "Make up is fuckin' great for a guy. because it makes a guy look beautiful, which a lot of times, a guy is not beautiful. and I wanna change that. I wanna make sure everyone thinks that guys are beautiful." I'm good so far yeah. yeah I do. SHUT THE FUCK. oh fuck, alright alright. Pete was like "oh my god, I'm so embarrassed about this dick pic." and then I saw the dick pic and was like "ah it's not bad." it's not a bad dick. let's be real. we made Rollins Stones one issue before Fall Out Boy. and Fall Out Boy made the issue right after us and they were so pissed they were like "yo, fuck you guys!" they're like "yo! Panic! has the fuckin' cover for Rolling Stones, yo, fuck these dudes, we're gonna fucking go miles above. we're gonna hit every fuckin' continent there is known to man." but they didn't because they missed a second of time. apparently they were like "oh shit, we got every continent." and they didn't actually hit it. dude, and Pete was like, "WHAT THE FUCK?! 'oh you didn't fuckin' make the continent' it's like FUCK YOU!" so From Under the Cork Tree happens, we fuckin' have three-four years of awesomeness. like, people are coming in themselves 'cause it's so big. Alright so Fall Out Boy was like-- so Patrick's like "yo, we are going to name these records from under the Cork tree and from Innity-- from infinity on high." Pete was like "yo folie à deux means the theatric of two." "The madness of two." oh sorry I'm sorry. follow boy was like "yo we got to take a break." Meaning Pete was like "yo we got to take a break bro." and Patrick's like "I need time for my music. UHUhUhUHuhUUUh." and joes like "yo I need time to find the fucking art dude I got to find some fucking me-- metal" and andys like "i'm just gonna play with some fucking metal bands." and they're like "all right this breaks been like three years long two years long three years long 3 1/2? we gotta fucking come back man we gotta come back strong." you took my beer away what the fuck? "no you poured it all over yourself." "yeah you poured it on yourself man here." "we got to make this shit legit it's gonna be fucking dope it's going to go fucking sky high. we're going to make a fucking record that sails the skies. we're going to call this record save rock 'n' roll." so they made alone together light 'em up alone together Phoenix. and everybody's like "what the fuck? you're working with this guy who fuckin' recorded Avril Lavigne and P!nk." is this pu-- what the fuck is this on my shirt, did I puke on myself? oh god. Pete was like "yo were gonna end up on a tour with Panic! At The Disco and twenty pilots. and that's all and that's all that matters. and that's just how the fuckin' story goes."
  • ily: i love you
  • ilysm: i love you so much
  • intslywwmsigyttrtnlmgbiyrsmiylmfmanetatiwfltycpksicbuicbuaouawcbwcaomwctioinsinebttouhiysipwcjwtwwd: i never thought somebody like you would want me so i give you ten thousand reasons to not let me go but if you really see me if you like me for me and nothing else that's all that i've wanted for longer than you could possibly know so it can be us it can be us and only us and what came before won't count anymore or matter we can try it out it's not so impossible nobody else but the two of us here if you're saying it's possible we can just watch the whole world disappear
Me as a parent
  • kid: mom tell me a story
  • me: it was the summer of 2001, and Joe meets Patrick and he's like "yo, I know about music." then Patrick's like "yo I know more about music!" "that's impossible. so you wanna start a band?" and Patrick's like, "yeah that's cool." and then, he's like "yo this is a book store not a music store." and then they met at Patrick's house. so Patrick's wearing shorts, socks, and a hat. Patrick is playing drums for some fuckin' reason and then Pete's there for some reason. and they start playing music together and they're like "oh, let's play some covers from some other bands." it was like Green Day, and fuckin' Misfits, and fuckin' Ramones. Pete said to Joe, "yo, that's dope, but we need a fuckin' drummer." because Patrick's playing drums and he's a singer. Patrick's like "yo, I got a soul voice," and they're like "wait how do you have a soul voice?" and he's like "yo, watch this: YEEEEEEeeeeeeEEEEEEeeeeeeeeEEEeeeeeeAAAAAAAAaaaaAAaahhh!" and they're like, "oh my god, that sounds like soul!" so they put it in a song, and it was like, "WHERE IS YOUR BOY TONIIIIIIIiiiiiIIIIIIIIIiiiIIIIIIIGHT?!" and they're like "yo that's fuckin perfect, this is Fall Out Boy." and they made records like Evening Out With Your Ex-Girlfriend. Evening Out With Your Ex-Girlfriend, everybody loves it. "it's called Evening Out With Your Girlfriend." with your ex-girlfriend. it's called evening out with your Ex-girlfriend. it's called eating out your girlfriend, and it's real and it doesn't matter. and Pete talked to Patrick and Joe and he's like "you what the fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. yo, this is gonna be fuckin' doooooooooope!" so they made a record and it was called Take this to Your Grave. they made it without a drummer, and they had like 3—4 drummers come in. The four drummers they had come in were like Josh Freese, Neil Pert, the dude from Toto, the fourth one was like the guy from Papa Roach or something, and they're like "you, we need Andy Hurley. Andy Hurley. Take This to Your Grave. Fuckin' record it." and he did, and he killed it, and he was like "bigidalililililillillilila, PSHHH!" killin' the skin, tapping the skins, tapping the rim, playin' the shit, killing these bitches, rapping it out. you're getting a fucking tattoo right now?! what the fuck is going on?! We should get signed to Fueled By Ramen, 'cause thee guys know what the fuck is going on. and they were like "yo, if you can make our scene any bigger than it is, which is not fuckin' hard, we will sign you guys." and Pete was like "yo, we got this record that's fuckin' dooooooope, dude, it's called Take This to Your Grave, it's called From Under the Cork Tree it's gonna be fucking huge." and then Patrick's like "I gotta keep it real, I gotta keep it artistic, these are three songs that are gonna make the album and it's called-BURP-Thnks Fr th Mmrs, 20 Dollar Nose Bleed, and Sugar, Were Goin' Down. and they made this record that was fuckin' dope, and it fucking hit on the charts like one two three, three two one, three four five six seven eight nine ten. ten to one. From Under the Cork Tree sold like four million records. ten million records. fifteen million records. and Brendon Urie had nothing to do with the entire record. and Patrick was like "that's gooooOOOOoooooOOOOOOOOd." Pete was like, "yo, fuck you I can do whatever I want." and Joe was like, "yeah it's cool man whatever I don't give a shit." and then Andy was like "eh, cool." and Pete was like "Make up is fuckin' great for a guy. because it makes a guy look beautiful, which a lot of times, a guy is not beautiful. and I wanna change that. I wanna make sure everyone thinks that guys are beautiful." I'm good so far yeah. yeah I do. SHUT THE FUCK. oh fuck, alright alright. Pete was like "oh my god, I'm so embarrassed about this dick pic." and then I saw the dick pic and was like "ah it's not bad." it's not a bad dick. let's be real. we made Rollins Stones one issue before Fall Out Boy. and Fall Out Boy made the issue right after us and they were so pissed they were like "yo, fuck you guys!" they're like "yo! Panic! has the fuckin' cover for Rolling Stones, yo, fuck these dudes, we're gonna fucking go miles above. we're gonna hit every fuckin' continent there is known to man." but they didn't because they missed a second of time. apparently they were like "oh shit, we got every continent." and they didn't actually hit it. dude, and Pete was like, "WHAT THE FUCK?! 'oh you didn't fuckin' make the continent' it's like FUCK YOU!" so From Under the Cork Tree happens, we fuckin' have three-four years of awesomeness. like, people are coming in themselves 'cause it's so big. Alright so Fall Out Boy was like-- so Patrick's like "yo, we are going to name these records from under the Cork tree and from Innity-- from infinity on high." Pete was like "yo folie à deux means the theatric of two." "The madness of two." oh sorry I'm sorry. follow boy was like "yo we got to take a break." Meaning Pete was like "yo we got to take a break bro." and Patrick's like "I need time for my music. UHUhUhUHuhUUUh." and joes like "yo I need time to find the fucking art dude I got to find some fucking me-- metal" and andys like "i'm just gonna play with some fucking metal bands." and they're like "all right this breaks been like three years long two years long three years long 3 1/2? we gotta fucking come back man we gotta come back strong." you took my beer away what the fuck? "no you poured it all over yourself." "yeah you poured it on yourself man here." "we got to make this shit legit it's gonna be fucking dope it's going to go fucking sky high. we're going to make a fucking record that sails the skies. we're going to call this record save rock 'n' roll." so they made alone together light 'em up alone together Phoenix. and everybody's like "what the fuck? you're working with this guy who fuckin' recorded Avril Lavigne and P!nk." is this pu-- what the fuck is this on my shirt, did I puke on myself? oh god. Pete was like "yo were gonna end up on a tour with Panic! At The Disco and twenty pilots. and that's all and that's all that matters. and that's just how the fuckin' story goes."

anonymous asked:

so gang!phil interrogating rival!dan but phils usual techniques (slapping, hitting, etc.) are just turning dan on, so instead phil just edges him til he gives in 💙

Phil cracked his knuckles, sighing as he pushed open the door to the interrogation room. He was instantly hit with a rank stench, and he flinched, crinkling his eyes in disgust.

Dan Howell sat in the middle of the room, tied to a chair, a gag over his mouth. He didn’t seem to notice Phil entering.

He had a black eye, and a cut on one cheek, so it was clear the boys had had some fun with him when they had caught him. He was still pretty cute though. And despite all this, Dan’s eyes were dry.

“Dan,” he said loudly, and the boy looked up, glaring at him fiercely.

Phil stepped forward, yanking the gag down, and Dan immediately took this opportunity to spit at him.

Phil calmly wiped it away, and Dan laughed. Phil shook his head, fiddling with the straps of the gloves they used to make punches hurt the offender less and the victim more. It was an old intimidation technique, but Dan didn’t flinch.

“You’re a goddamn idiot, Howell.” His voice was low, and he leaned down so he was at Dan’s level, their faces inches away.

“Maybe,” Dan said slowly, staring him down. “Or maybe you just don’t know why I did what I did.”

Phil stepped back, putting his foot on Dan’s chair, his clunky black boot resting between Dan’s legs.

“Unfortunately for you, that’s why I’m here.”

Dan’s subtle smirk grew, and Phil couldn’t help but growl under his breath. He was infuriating.

“Why would that be unfortunate?” Dan’s voice was light; teasing. “You know I adore our little chats.”

Phil was reminded why Dan was used for things like this - he was the best spy imaginable, and when he got caught, he wasn’t easy to crack.

Phil didn’t hesitate to swing at him, slapping him in the face, hard. Dan’s head was thrown to the side, but he came back smiling. He yawned, a strand of messy brown hair falling between his eyes.

“Thanks,” he said, his eyes flashing. “I needed that. I was falling asleep.”

Phil grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him forward roughly and practically strangling him.

“Look Howell,” he hissed, and Dan’s eyes widened slightly. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. And either way, you’re gonna fucking tell me why you were spying on my base, and what you know.”

Dan searched his icy blue eyes, determined not to let his confidence waver.

“I think it’s gonna have to be the hard way,” he said slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Because I’m not telling you shit.”

Phil huffed through his nose, and grabbed a handful of Dan’s hair. He tugged back roughly, and Dan let out a soft whimper, of surprise or pain, Phil couldn’t tell.

Dan’s eyes rolled back in his head, and his exposed throat somehow made Phil want to bite him. Instead he fastened a hand around it, making Dan cry out.

“I could snap your fucking neck,” Phil growled at him. “I could slit your throat. Tell me everything, and it’s all over.”

Dan gagged softly, squirming in his tight grip. “No. Hit me again, fucker.”

Phil obliged, letting go of him just to backhand him. And it looked like it hurt like hell; the impact split Dan’s lip. But Dan fucking moaned.

His eyes glinted with red hot fire, a wild grin melting to his features. “Again,” he breathed, and Phil stared at him.

Dan was a mess; he was visibly shaking, he had a black eye and a lip that was bleeding down his chin. But he was asking for more…? What did it take to break this kid?

Phil glared at the boy, punching him twice in the stomach, and shoving him backwards. The chair toppled backwards, and Dan landed on his arms, his head hitting the ground as well.

He cried out in pain, but there was something else in his tone, a sort of whine, and oh my god, this was turning him on, wasn’t it?

Phil swallowed, moving to stand over Dan, hovering above him. Dan grinned at him cockily, until Phil grabbed his face with a firm grip, and he squeaked.

“You think this is hot, don’t you?” He asked quietly, getting as close to Dan as possible without being tempted to kiss his broken lips. Dan laughed.

“And you don’t?” He smirked. “Having me like this, completely helpless? Ruining my pretty face, fuck, like the worthless piece of shit I am.”

It all clicked in Phil’s mind- why no one could seem to make Dan break. It was impossible to get information from him, simply because he liked the abuse. It made Phil even more pissed.

Phil stood back up, grabbing Dan by the hair and pulling him and the chair back up. Dan whimpered; fire shooting through his head.

“We’re gonna try something a little different,” Phil said calmly, his voice coming out sickly-sweet. Dan shivered.

“Do whatever you want,” he spit, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “I’m not saying anything.”

“Oh really? That’s too bad.” Without warning he leaned forward, his hands placed on either side of Dan’s hips, his breath brushing over the side of Dan’s neck. He ran his hand over Dan’s waistband, and then down to his (obvious at this point) bulge. “Guess you won’t be coming anytime soon, then.”

“Wha-” Dans breath caught and the words got stuck in his throat as Phil ran his fingertips over his hard on, certainly not making it better. “What d-do you mean?” He choked out.

Phil ignored him, pushing his hand into Dan’s pants, under his boxers, and ran his thumb over Dan’s tip.

Dan whined rather loudly, squirming on the chair, but the ropes made it so it was nearly impossible for him to move.

“Phil,” he breathed, trying to shift his hips away. “What are you d-doing…?”

Phil grinned maliciously. Finally, he had found something that would actually affect Dan. And he was going to have some fun with it.

“Mmh, just giving my whore what he wants,” he breathed in Dan’s ear, and Dan couldn’t help but moan.

Phil moved his hand, wrapping his fingers around Dan’s length. He watched Dan bite down on his bottom lip as Phil moved his hand, slowly teasing him, his thumb brushing over Dan’s slit occasionally.

Soon enough Dan was a whimpering mess, and he seemed to have given up any integrity he may have had left. His head fell back on the chair, his eyes closed, and he was attempting to rut against Phil’s hand while letting out an endless stream of high pitched moans. Phil had to be honest, it was sexy as hell.

Phil could tell Dan was getting close by the increase in pitch of his noises, and the way his hips stuttered. His cock was leaking precum, which made it easier for Phil to slide his hand up and down Dan’s shaft.

“Now,” he said softly, sweetly, even, slowing down his movements to a near halt. “Are you gonna tell me what you were doing outside the base, slut?”

Dan whined, his eyes opening, and he licked his lips.

“Please-”

“Answer the question.”

Phil stopped his movements all together, holding his hand at the base of Dan’s dick so he couldn’t cum even if he was able to.

Dan searched his face, chewing on the inside of his cheek before muttering, “no.”

At that Phil just smiled meanly, biting down on Dan’s throat and sucking hard, leaving a dark bruise in its place.

“That’s okay.” He laughed, and Dan looked almost scared. “We’ve got time.”

That began the next unbearable moments for Dan, with Phil scratching bright red marks down his thighs and occasionally leaving hickeys all over his neck and jaw.

And here’s the thing; Dan did not want to beg. He hated begging. Begging was admitting your defeat, and that was something Dan simply couldn’t do. But right then, Dan was probably closer to breaking down than he had been in his entire life.

He wanted to cum, he had been so close, and when Phil had stopped-

It was worse than any physical pain he could inflict.

When Phil started moving his hand again, Dan almost cried. He started slow again, gradually speeding up, stopping occasionally to flick his wrist around Dan’s head.

“Mmph, fuck,” Dan whined, his head falling back, beginning to lose his mind again. “Ph-Phil, please make me cum, please.”

“You wanna cum?” Phil growled softly, speeding up even more, and Dan practically screamed.

“Yes-! F-Fuck, n-need to…!”

Phil smirked, watching Dan’s face and admiring how he fell apart just from some pain and a hand around his cock. He was gorgeous, his face all roughed up and his hair falling in his eyes, sticking from sweat. Phil wanted to fuck his brains out, but then wasn’t really the time.

“Too bad,” he said finally, stopping again right when Dan was the closest possible.

Dan let out an incredulous noise, groaning, his hips bucking into nothing, desperate for friction.

“Fuck you,” he said breathlessly, his voice breaking. “Fuck you, Phil Lester. Let me cum.”

“Tell me what I need to know, sweetheart.” He dipped two fingers under Dan’s chin, bringing his face up. “Or, trust me, I could do this all day.”

Dan shook his head.

Twenty minutes later, and Dan was visibly shaking again. Tears streamed down his face, and he didn’t even remember when they had started. His hips constantly twitched, and he had to gasp for breath.

“Please.” His voice was soft and broken and desperate and sleepy; goddamn beautiful. “Please, Phil, I need it, I-”

“Aw.” Phil stuck out his lower lip, mocking him. “Poor baby. Poor desperate little whore, do you need to cum, my love?”

Dan shuddered, nodding frantically, not even above falling for Phil’s teasing.

Phil slapped him, the noice echoing through the room, and Dan moaned.

“Then tell me what I fucking need to know, Dan. It’s that simple,” he hissed through his teeth.

Dan whimpered, sleepily shaking his head. But then Phil’s mouth was on his dick, his jeans shoved down, and god, he had been close for an hour now. He just needed it so bad.

His eyes rolled back in his head, and he squeezed them shut.

Phil had been edging him for so goddamn long, he was going crazy. He was so weak, and every second that Phil touched him, he got closer. The very edge, and Phil’s hot, wet mouth was closed around him, humming, and fuck he was going to cum. It was right there, and then…

Phil pulled off with a pop, glaring at him. Dan could scream. And then he lost it.

“Phil, f-fuck, your mouth is so good, please-” he choked on the words, the emotion and need getting caught in his throat, and there were tears on his cheeks again. “Please, need to cum, please let me, p-please-” he hiccuped, shaking his head desperately. “Please, no more. N-No more, I’ll tell you!”

Phil smiled, drawing his thumb down Dan’s cheek.

“Mmh, good boy,” he hummed, and Dan soaked up the praise, nuzzling against Phil’s hand like a kitten. He didn’t care anymore. “That’s all I wanted. Tell me everything, and then you can cum.”

Dan nodded frantically, sniffing, the words spilling from his mouth like a waterfall. How he had been sent to scope out the new recruits, how his gang had been planning to kidnap one of the new kids, hold him hostage. Even how they had anticipated that Dan would get caught, and how he would try and get information on the inside as well.

At the end Dan broke down, a sob catching in his throat, still so fucking hard, his dick still leaking and straining to reach his stomach.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Phil said sweetly, fastening his hand around Dan’s cock for the thousandth time.

Dan sucked in a sharp breath, his head lolling backwards, whimpering softly.

Phil got him off in a matter of moments, and Dan moaned loudly and high pitched as he spilled over Phil’s hand and his stomach.

Phil untied him, seeing as he was practically passed out, and Dan slumped to the ground.

He stood over him, looking over the exhausted, broken boy laying on the ground beneath him, breathing heavily. What a gorgeous mess.

He leaned over, kneeling next to him and lifting his head up by his hair. Dan didn’t even react, except for glancing at him sleepily.

“Needless to say, you can’t go back to your gang,” Phil said calmly.

“You gonna kill me?” Dan asked, more like a statement, as if he didn’t even care what the answer was.

“No…” Phil hummed, letting Dan lay back down and running his fingers through his tangled hair. “I was thinking you’d stay here. With me.”

Dan made a noise of acknowledgment, licking his ripped up lips.

“If it means we can do that again, then I’m down.”

Castle Cupid

(Also posted on AO3)

“What the fuck?!” Potter threw up his hands and then promptly jammed them in his hair. He stopped his pacing and stared at the archway where a door had been about… -Draco idly cast a tempus- an hour ago. Apparently, Potter had been driven to distraction simply by the idea of sharing a space with him and was flirting with a level of mania that made Draco quite uncomfortable.

Draco laced his hands together in his lap, uncrossing his legs and recrossing them the other way. He was expecting Potter to start throwing spells again if he kept to the pattern he had established so far. Hopefully, he would cast something that would rebound and turn him into something quiet, like a rabbit.

Potter spun toward him though, “Why aren’t you upset!” he snapped.

Draco raised an eyebrow, “It seems to me you’re doing a good enough job for the both of us.”

Keep reading

6

Morgan in Fire Emblem Heroes! As much as I want them in the game, I’m afraid that it’s wishful thinking (though not impossible)… So, I decided to give both M! and F!Morgan FE Heroes incarnations myself, as well as come up with a skill and quote list for both! I also tried to style everything as close to the game as possible so it looks really official!

As for their weapons/weapon types, F!Morgan has Goetia because she wields it in her official artwork (even though Tacticians can’t wield Dark Magic normally) and she’s a Red Tome user because all Dark Magic in Heroes falls under the Red Tome category. Being a special weapon, Goetia has a built-in Green Tomebreaker 2 effect.

In a similar vein, M!Morgan has a sword because he wields one in his official artwork. However, as the sword he wields is Alm’s Blade and Alm is in the game, I decided to give him a Levin Sword, based on Robin’s Smash Bros incarnation. Even though it doesn’t work as a ranged counter, the Levin Sword is unique in comparison to all other Swords currently in the game as it targets the foe’s Resistance instead of their Defense, essentially making it a Magic Weapon.

These took a while but were real fun to do! I’ll probably do some more characters in the future!

Humans are Weird-Death

Hey guys, so I wanted to add to the humans are weird thing that’s going around, and this kinda came to me in the shower, so…enjoy?

Zah Rem was dying. They knew it the moment the Ra-Sek corridors of the station began to feel cold. It had been easy to dismiss the chill at first. The Humans always kept the main corridors to a barely tolerable 24 degrees Celcius, the Terran unit of heat. So Zah Rem had kept to Ra-Sek corridors, content to survey the movement of their officers from the comfort of warmer areas.

But then they had Stopped in the Ra-Sek sustenance area. The area was used infrequently as most of the new officers preferred to communal sustenance area, and so some time had passed before a Terran ensign accidentally stumbled across them. The human had run to get help, and that’s how Zah Rem found themself in the infirmary, a heat unit glowing above their bed as machines monitored every pulse of their internal fire.

To the Ra-Set, the Cooling was a very private matter. It was some small mercy really- a natural death for a Ra-Sek happened over the course of only days, and after the initial passing ceremony the Ra-Sek left the dying in peace to contemplate their life. At least, that’s how it had been before.

A human, mouth closed in a Ra-Sek neutral expression, sat at the end of their bed, eyes occasionally flicking between the machines and their pad. This one was the human counterpart of Zah Rems previous station and they knew this one well. She would not be leaving unless the dying process miraculously reversed. Humans always seemed to treat this like a logical possibility.

Zah Rem had lived such a long time, even for a Ra-Sek. They had seen the rise of space travel for their people, the first contacts with other races, some friendly, some hostile. They had seen stars flicker out of existence. And then, they had seen the arrival of Terrans. What a ludicrous, terrifying thing that had been.

The humans had arrived in strange, nonsensical machines seemingly only barely capable of long distance space travel. Most of them had arrived asleep. The Ra-Sek had initially been very wary of this smaller race. Humans could regulate their own body temperatures. Humans lived short lives but took life-threatening risks, seemingly for pleasure. Humans reproduced quickly and freely, having offspring even in space, so far from their own world. Humans would fight, losing limbs they could not regenerate, and then fight more.

In short, they were too dangerous not to make allies of. And so the Ra-Sek had, and in their many years, Zah Rem considered this one of the wisest choices of their people. The humans had helped them explore planets previously thought uninhabitable. They had seen human shipmates run headfirst into aggressive unknown flora and fauna and categorize it, collect it, and make it known. In one instance, they had seen the entire brunt of humanity brought to bear on a now extinct warmongering race, simply because this race had been dubbed “bullies that don’t play fair”.

The human shifted in her chair. “Hey dragon, still alive?”

Zah Rem exhaled a plume of steam. They knew this word referred to them, and that it was a reference to a Terran creature that may have never even existed. They had seen a picture once, and they did see the similarities to a Ra-Sek. That didn’t mean they had to answer.

The human sighed and flicked her eyes up and across, a human gesture of annoyance. “I know you’re alive, your monitors are going. I wanted to ask if you need anything.”

“Need? I am dying, there is nothing more I need.”

The human curled her upper lip, almost perfectly mimicking the Ra-Sek gesture of annoyance. Human mimicry really was uncanny. “I know that, but, is there anything you want? Water? Food? A book? Are you just…gonna sit there until it happens? Aren’t you…y’know, uneasy?”

Now that was a strange word to use for this state, and Zah Rem wondered if their translator had translated the Terran Common incorrectly. “Uneasy? Why would I be…Uneasy?”

The general shifted in her chair again, suddenly transfixed by her pad. “Well, I mean, are you…afraid?”

Zah Rem tilted their head, trying to mimic a gesture they had seen humans use. “Why would I be afraid? I am dying, this is a normal process for all living things.”

The human seemed frustrated, and Zah Rem once again saw the wisdom of their own tradition of leaving the dying to cool in peace.

“I know that! I just mean…aren’t you afraid of what happens next? Like, to you…after you die?” her shoulders curled inwards.

After…death? Zah Rem snorted. “Nothing happens after death. Death is the end of life…is it…is it not so for Terrans?” A pang of fear twitched in Zah Rem’s core. Humans…died completely, true? They thought of all their deceased human shipmates the other humans had burned, or buried under soil, and suddenly they were…uneasy.

The general waved at the air “Don’t call us that. And yeah, yeah, human’s die all the way too-“Relief. “But, some humans…we have this…idea, that a part of us, the sentient part, lives after we die. And, I don’t know where it goes, but death comes to collect it, and guide it to where it’s supposed to go next.”

“Death…comes? As in, the concept of death is…sentient? and… travels to the location of the dying to take their consciousness? Where? Why?” Zah Rem’s internal fire quivered, and the monitors began to chirp and hum in complaint.

“Woah woah take it easy!” Their human counterpart stood, touching their forelimb gently. This gesture would have been aggressive among Ra-Sek, but they had long since learned that humans touched other beings freely. Her hand was warm, and the heat soothed Zah Rem’s own heat. The monitors quieted.

“Y’know what? Forget I said anything, it’s just a dumb Terran myth. You wanna see this picture of a cat I found?”

And, for once, Zah Rem really, really did.

The next few days passed quietly. Healers checked the monitors as discreetly as possible and the general was a constant presence, sneaking back in every time the Ra-Sek healers shooed her out. For the most part, she worked on her pad, guiding the directors of her officers. Zah Rem was mildly envious of this, but they felt the cooling settling in, and they were content to reflect on past action instead.

Well, mostly content. Try as they may, Zah Rem could not shake the idea of death as a sentient presence, and tendrils of fear began to snake into the waiting, fear that, like in so many impossible ways, the humans might be right about death. They did not want their consciousness to be taken. They took to scanning the room when their human wasn’t looking.

This fear was probably what exacerbated the process. It happened suddenly, their internal temperature falling, falling, and the general was shouting, calling for help and Zah Rem knew they were beyond help, nothing could help, but they were so afraid of Death being attracted by the cries, if only they could-

And suddenly they were alone in a space that was not bright, and was not dark. They…no longer felt cold, but not warm either. It made Zah Rem…uneasy. And then they heard footsteps, and in the distance there was a small flicker of light.

The light drew closer and closer, and with it Zah Rem began to make out a figure in strange clothing. The figure wore long, black clothing that flowed downward, with a hood that obscured the head. It was carrying a long stick with what looked like a small ball of fire on top. They also saw the glint of long, sharp looking metal, reminiscent of a Terran knife.

Zah Rem bared their teeth. A weapon. This must be Death. If it was, it wouldn’t steal their sentience without a fight.

The figure closed in.

“Stop. Come no further.” Zha Rem growled. “I am Zah Rem of the Ra-Sek. I have seen races rise and fall. I have seen stars flicker out of existence. I have fought alongside humans. I will not let you take my consciousness.”

There was a moment of silence. And then a strange sound came from the hooded figure. A soft, musical sound, not unlike a Ra-Sek trill, very much like…a human laugh. The figure lowered it’s hood.

Of course, Death would be a human.

Zha Rem felt the anger leave them all at once. The human smiled, mouth closed, and reached its dark hand out to touch Zha Rem’s forelimb. Their touch was warm, and Zha Rem felt the warmth coil around  their core, lighting it once again.

“Are you ready to come with me?”

And Zah Rem found they were.

“Woman”

requested // no

requests are open // request here

TW // Smut, profanity 

I hope you can see the shape that I’m in when he’s touching your skin

Jealousy. It’s in his veins. It’s selfish, he knows, but he doesn’t want to see her with anyone other than him. They’re just dancing, it should be innocent, but she’s staring at him. She’s staring at him with that gleam in her eyes and a smirk on her blood red lips, she knows what she’s doing to him and she’s enjoying it. He craves her. her touch being the only thing that could cool his burning skin right now, the kind of touch that breaks voids of silence, but she’s not touching him she’s touching that stranger. Her pretty hands touching a man who doesn’t even know her name, a man who asked her to dance whilst Harry was standing right there. He’s got the image of her over the shoulder smile she sent him as she walk away with a man that wasn’t him. She can see he’s mad, whether it’s at her or the guy touching her she doesn’t know but she can see his hand gripping his drink as hard as he grips her neck and it makes her ache…

Tempted, you know

Temptation. The cruellest of all mistresses. He’d ruin her, he wants to ruin her. He wants to hurt her so good she bites the inside of her cheek to suppress her whimpers when she thinks of him. He wants to do everything that man who’s got his hands on her could never do because he doesn’t know her body the way Harry does. It’s driving him insane, she’s driving him insane and the longer she stares at him, the more she bites that goddamn lip of hers, the more he can’t resist the temptation of watching her, watching him. If she could stop being so fucking pretty; he could stop losing himself over her. He would never make a scene, that wasn’t him, he doesn’t need to. He knows what she wants and he’s more than happy to oblige. She wants the sparks between them to leave carpet burns on her knees, she wants him to confess his sins with his tongue in the church beneath her skirt, she wants him to destroy her and fuck he wants that too. When the song ends, that mans hands drop from her waist and she saunters over to him with a sway in her hips and that smirk still playing on her lips. It’s got his arm reaching towards her and his hand in her hair, pulling it back as he whispers “you’re going to regret that” into her ear in that voice that leaves her breathless. She doesn’t say anything; she’s too focused on how his rough hand is so gentle on the small of her back as he leads her outside and into the back of a taxi.

You flower, you feast

She’s the prettiest sin he’s ever touched. Her black dress a mess on the floor by the door; discarded so he can leave fingerprint bruises on her skin. She’s gasping and they’re not even at the bedroom yet but when they get there, oh god when they get there, he’s everywhere all at once and she’s overwhelmed. She’s so soft and he’s going to break her. He’s got her under his thumb and she’s squirming, she’s writhing, every move he makes is so intense and she can’t breathe. She blossoms at his touch, his touch, the only one who should be touching her like this; at all. His fingers are in her and it’s just not enough. She needs him, all of him, whimpers of “please” and “need you” being all she can get out has him falling apart. She’s his weakness and that desperate look in her eyes is going to kill him.

Wo-woman

Every essence of him is in her, his body is all electricity when he’s one with her. His hands are all over her, like leaving any part of her skin untouched would be a crime punishable by death, she’s red with hand prints and bite marks and she’s never loved her body more. She’s his and now no one would be able to ignore that, no unnamed man at a bar had anything on Harry. No man could make her feel like he does, she’s ruined for anyone else and he loves it. Her back is arched and his lips are between her collarbones, one of her hands in his hair and the other over her mouth and she’s there. His encouraging whispers in her ear of “good girl” and “that’s it baby” aren’t helping her come down from this state of bliss. She’s silent, too in awe of this feeling to make a sound, it’s never quite felt like this before and he can tell because she’s so impossibly tight. He’s falling apart, her mouth-open-eyes-squeezed-shut face pushing him so far off the edge he’s in disbelief. He’s gripping at her, almost as though he thinks she’ll disappear, he’s got his head buried in the crook of her neck and he’s groaning. His husky voice sounding more like a growl as he loses himself inside of her and fuck it’s music to her ears. When he’s done he collapses, still inside of her, face still in the crook of her neck and they’re quiet. The aftermath to their euphoria being comfortable silence. Him on top of a body so beautiful to him, painted in marks from him.

Woman 

anonymous asked:

i rmr being so confused when i first learned that 1d has been an opening act for big time rush, i became a fan during tmh era when they were already 'the worlds biggest boyband' and everytime im seeing your posts its like......... its so hard to imagine that they used to be an opening act and even the xfactor tour and all those small performances before that and it always gets me a little bit (a lot) emotional

Ohhh ja definitely feel, bud–I became a fan almost five years ago to the day now and they were literally ~this band from the UK I can’t remember their name have you heard of them I think? I love them??~ and everything was sort of this hushed excitement and like. This was their “set”:

Just that cheap dinky fuckin banner and nothing else and then just two years later they were back HEADLINING THEIR OWN STADIUM TOUR, complete with fireworks and streamer cannons and a fucking obstacle course to trip over as they belted chart-topping hits from their three record-breaking number-one albums:

They took their baby steps just like everybody else, but they took them so fast it was more like a baby sprint.