strange is a compliment

Signs as boyfriends

Aries: passionate at making out, passive personality but physically really dominant and protective, good at massages, wraps you in their arm when walking, little pecks on the top of the head and cheek

Taurus: wraps you in a hug every time they see you, tells you how cute you are everyday, tries cooking meals for you, lots of humorous banter, makes bad jokes to make you laugh, brings you flowers

Gemini: reserved when you first meet them but talks a lot when you get closer, lies in bed with you all day, lots of pda, holds your hand all the time, likes to listen to your goals and encourage you

Cancer: peppers you in kisses, really bashful about it though, makes you giggle a lot, likes more outgoing partners to bring them out of their shells, has cute quirks that you fall in love with, very sensitive

Leo: will hold your hand a lot while taking you on a new adventure, takes a lot of pictures of and with you, will sing and dance crazy with you, smiles at you for no reason, shows you lots of affection

Virgo: kind of shy about getting physical with you, brings you cute, thoughtful gifts, knows how to cheer you up even if you don’t want to smile, says corny lovey-dovey things to you

Libra: takes you on elaborate dates, stays up late talking to you, makes sure you’re okay, tight hugs, breaths in your scent, likes to just stare at and admire your face, late-night talks

Scorpio: is really awkward when they first start dating you, slightly less awkward throughout, sends you suggestive memes, seductive stares and sheepish smiles, can get jealous

Sagittarius: always wanting to try new things with you, gets wild once you get to know them better, dirty talk, gives you the smoldering look a lot, tells you stories, wants to please you

Capricorn: teases you a lot, ruffles your hair, gives you strangely adorable nicknames, goes on movie marathons with you, compliments you a lot, can seem rigid at first but underneath is lovable

Aquarius: tickles you and turns into making out, is really chill, plays video games with you, loves running their hand through your hair, encourages you to have fun even if you’ve had a bad day

Pisces: loves cuddling and spooning, will just look at their partner and think how pretty they are, makes playlists for you, remembers every little thing you tell them, lets you know how much they love you

7 women i could never forget.

1. it was all about experiences. it was a necessity for you to feel. diamonds and gold didn’t move you as much as books and flowers. you liked wine in the morning, and coffee in the evening. you liked beethoven when you were happy, and trap music when you were sad. your laugh was light, but your mind was heavy. you spent so much time dreaming, and not enough time living in the moment.

2. your eyes were enchanting, but the words that came from your lips were even more captivating. gospel to the soul. water to the mind. i remembered every small detail about you, even though you thought it wasn’t important. funny thing is, you didn’t feel important, you didn’t know your purpose. if only you knew the power that existed in the little things you said and did. you’re a goddess. you’ll make a fine mother some day.

3. you were always a volcano waiting to happen, but somehow i was drawn to that. i was drawn to your passion, your spirit, your exuberance. i thought it was beautiful, they felt indifferent. they kept their distance because they thought you were destructive. they didn’t understand you, but i did. amidst all the confusion, i still chose you, but you chose to push me away. you left burns on my soul and left me picking pieces of myself off the ground. my mother always taught me not to play with fire. i wish i listened.

4. miss crystals and sage. miss zodiac. miss what is your moon, sun and rising in? miss let me see your chart, so i know it’s real. you’re appreciated. you taught me so much. your spirituality fueled me. your oneness with yourself inspired me. your awareness opened me, but your over analyzing closed me. you inadvertently disposed of me. ego killed our connection. can you imagine how far we would’ve gone if we both just swallowed our pride?

5. my first love. my soul mate. you opened my eyes to things that i didn’t even know existed. you opened my senses to feelings that i never even knew could be felt. our connection was intense, even though we weren’t together for long. but it’s hard to write about you. it’s hard to string together sentences and talk about you. a part of me feels like you don’t deserve my words, because you left without saying a word.

6. there is so much to you. i have seen the light and dark sides, the sun and the moon, but everything is undeniably beautiful. there was a gentleness about you, even in your rough moments, a softness about you, even after the way the past treated you. but i was young, naive, immature. i didn’t quite understand what love or friendship was. i didn’t quite understand myself. but you’re a good person, an angel. i hope you found someone who compliments your spirit.

7. strange. it never moved past friendship, but i’m glad that it never did. we were always better off as platonic companions. we mixed together well, without adding romance to the pot. it’s ironic that the reason we don’t talk as much anymore is because we decided not to take that plunge into the unknown. i miss your smile, your humor, your friendship. but i also understand that it’s okay to love someone from a distance.

—  iambrillyant

anonymous asked:

Can you do a prompt where Victoria isn't actually mean but comes of as such like "Max looks so pretty" and max is like "what?" And Victoria is just flustered and caught off guard and says the "I SAID YOU LOOKED SHITTY GO FUCK YOUR SELFIE" (doesn't have to contain that but I think it would be cute to see that Victoria only acts like that because she is flustered and crushing hard on max XD)

How to Deal with Crushes

Contrary to Victoria’s surname, she does not in fact “chase” anyone or anything. If anything, people chase after the Chase’s and the same principle is applied to Victoria, just look at her Vortex Club lackeys. Of course they’d follow her, who wouldn’t? She’s popular, efficient, and everything they could only hope to be. Whatever else she didn’t have, she grabbed onto without unnecessary chasing.  If she wants something then she gets it, end of story.

So it’s safe to say that she is most definitely not crushing on Max Caulfield.

Nope, she’s not falling for her waif hipster bullshit and her awkward shy pretense. The girl was short too so Victoria always ends up literally looking down on her and her annoying doe-eyed expression that seem to bring out her freckles. Especially those damn freckles. She would bet that underneath those poorly coordinated bargain clothes that Max had matching freckles on her shoulders which is lame. She’s a walking fashion disaster and Victoria has to stop her hands from tearing away those hideous clothes not because she wants her naked or anything, those clothes are just that terrible.

And her pictures? Selfies! Not even the kind that’s thought through and planned. No, Max just takes ordinary selfies. The kind of selfies that you post on social media and not in art galleries. The kind of selfies that show what her face looks like in the morning where the lighting is just right to add depth to her annoying freckles. The kind of selfies that reveal to Victoria the undeniable truth that Max is kind of cute.

God, she is pining over her so hard.

But she can’t let anyone else know that. See it from her point of view. She’s spent so much into her heartless bitch reputation that she can’t just let go all because of some dumb hipster with a cute face and a good eye for photography. She almost forgot about that part. Max has terrifying skill with the camera even though she doesn’t even know it. Victoria’s photos look amateur even next to some of Max’s selfies. That’s also one more thing she won’t admit out loud.

Max’s talent infuriates her just as much as it turns her on. She makes it look so easy, so effortless. She’s just using her retro-cam and the quality of her photos are worth more than what the best studio can produce. Max is Victoria’s competition and she hasn’t met someone that could fit the rival role so well in terms of skill. She likes to entertain the thought that maybe Max could fit the girlfriend role while at it too. One time she commented on Victoria’s photos being Avedon-esque and Victoria practically swooned inside. Still swooning about that until now.

Victoria is sitting on one of the benches on campus. It’s not like she deliberately chose this particular bench because she spotted the familiar flash and whir of a certain hipster’s camera nearby. It’s Max. Of course it has to be Max, who else? Victoria would never sit on this godawful excuses for furniture if she had a choice. The view helps her forget that her car has better cushioning.

Max is in her element again, with her back at Victoria, taking a photo of whatever. It’s sunset and with it there’s a poignant sense of romanticism painted across the campus. The sun’s rays sift through the trees and fall onto Max just right to give her this ethereal shine. Victoria captures her in the moment without even thinking. It’s only after the click of the shutter does she realize that she’s already looking through the viewfinder. She pulls back and stares at the photo she doesn’t remember taking and then back at the subject in front of her. While the photo was gorgeous like all her work naturally, it could only hope to capture the actual beauty before her.

“She’s so pretty.” Victoria almost sighs dreamily out of earshot.

Or what she thought was out of earshot since Max’s head spins so fast at the catch of her words. She shoots her a confused look. “What?”

And oh, god. Max looks way better with her face showing and she’s wearing that stupid doe-eyed look again and fuck, fuck. Victoria’s brain goes into panic mode. She doesn’t know what to say and it does not help that Max’s face is so distracting. The lighting shifted along with her movement and glistens along her frame and fuck, she looks lame in her clothes but she also looks radiant like what the fuck? And Victoria is still staring and oh, god what should she say?

“I SAID YOU LOOK SHITTY!” She yells at her with too much force to sell the intended spite. Nice one, Victoria. Smooth save. That will definitely tell Max that she is interested in her. Why don’t she go ahead and add some more flirty undertones. “GO FUCK YOUR SELFIE.” There it is. The words come out of her mouth as if on auto. Despite her face sporting a domineering look, Victoria very much wants to hide her embarrassment. It’s a good thing that she can hide her blush underneath her usual layers of anger.

Max looks more confused than offended and Victoria just wishes for her to go away so she could make a dash for her car and scream there. “Okay…?” She asks more than says, as if testing the waters. Victoria can’t help but snarl back just out of reflex and it’s enough to tell Max that the water is boiling and there’s a high chance that it will turn into a bloodbath. She sighs and it almost sounds like she was expecting something different.

Victoria already has plans on berating herself for again ruining another moment with Max and will do so as soon as she walks away but Max has other plans. There’s that bright flash again only this time it’s aimed at her. The whir of the camera isn’t lost to the buzzing in her brain. “Did you just…?” She can’t quite bring herself to finish her sentence, she can’t trust herself anymore.

Max is still in her element, not at all put-off by Victoria’s gaping, it must be the camera. There’s something empowering about holding a camera that makes Max bolder than her usual shy self, not that Victoria would notice that. Max just takes the photo as it develops with her nimble fingers. Victoria could tell the exact moment that it finishes when Max’s face erupts into a smile so wide she doubts it could fit the frame of a photo. “This one’s a keeper.” She shows it to her and Victoria feels her breath catch in her throat.

At first glance, Victoria’s posture in the shot looks intimidating but that’s not the main point. The focus is her face. She thought she was making just another one of her mean looks but evidence speaks otherwise. Her eyes are smoldering as the swathes over her and it almost makes her look warm. Warm and inviting. She can’t tell if it’s from the photo or the feeling in her chest but there’s a warmth that wasn’t there before. “This is…”

Pretty, I guess.” Max casually shrugs and Victoria’s head snaps up at the word. Just when she thinks that a smile looks cute on Max, she’s annoyingly adorable with a smirk too. “Pretty awesome.” She’s teasing. The hipster actually heard her and she’s flaunting it and Victoria should be mad at anyone who dares talk back to her but all she can think of is how Max is obviously flirting with her and she’s so happy that even her scowl looks friendly enough.

This is her chance! She can feel it with her heart beating so fast. Victoria has never run in her life aside for fitness but her heart is hammering wildly like it does when she jogs. Except she’s not running right now but it’s something similar. This is a chase and Max is her target and she can swear that she’s so close. She swears she almost feels it with her fingertips like how hers is brushing over the photo. The mood is set and the setting is just right. She’s going to do this and she’s going to get this right. She can’t mess this up now.

“Pretty amateur, smallfield.” And great, we’re back to gradeschool flirting again. Victoria represses the urge to just hit herself for being so lame. Really? Is that the best she can give? And what’s with that stupid nickname? She panicked okay. She has boys wrapped around her finger but she can’t fucking compliment a hipster girl that she likes without burying it under seven layers of insult.

“Still pretty.” Max insists with a smaller but still cute smile. She then takes back the photo and places it securely in her bag. Victoria tries not to think too much about the fact that she might even see the photo on the wall of Max’s room. “I guess it was nice talking to you, Victoria.”

“Yeah and you’re such a delight yourself. Get out of my face.” Victoria almost praises herself because the first sentence is the closest thing she’s gotten to an actual compliment. Max is already walking away but Victoria waits until she’s out of sight. Too bad she isn’t out of mind. Max calling her pretty is up there on her best-memories list next to their Avedon-moment. Max is also coincidentally on her to-do list.

God, she’s so fucking smitten.

You know what I can’t get over? The first thing Andrew did when he saw Akko. He didn’t go up and talk to her. The first thing he did

was grab her ears. Then, when she complained about it, he gave a half hearted apology, and then,

he grabbed them again.

Andrew was interested by the ears. So much so he was completely ignoring Akko. I mean, giant rabbit ears on a random girl, who wouldn’t be intrigued? I’m sure they looked real, he probably wanted to see if the felt real, too. After all, the next thing he does is ask her if they are real, after another half-hearted apology.

Look at his eyes here. He’s staring at her ears, not her face, even though he’s talking to her. I mean, it makes sense. This is something wild and curious. He’s never seen anything like it before. But then, he learns it’s magic, and he seems disappointed.

Andrew is someone who is interested in weird, cool, unusual things. It seems like he would adore magic. But he seems to hate for the very fact that is its “magic”. Also worth noting is the fact that he saw a girl with real bunny ears in a witch academy and his mind didn’t immediately go to magic implies that he’s had very little exposure to magic in his life.

I think Andrew has spent his life being told magic is antiquated and worthless by his father. But I deep down, he’s a lot like Akko, the way that magic amazes him. You can see it even clearer in his face when the enter the Fountain of Polaris.

His mouth is open the entire time they ascend that stare case. You can even see him close it as they reach the top. I think that if he saw that Shiny Chariot show that Akko did, he would’ve had a very similar reaction to her. He would’ve grown up loving magic.

When he visited Luna Nova, I think he thought everyone would be like his father probably described them to him: antiquated, stuck in the past, with their their heads up their asses. He probably thought all of them would be like Diana, and his visit to Luna Nova probably was convincing him he was right. But then he met Akko. And what he said still sticks with me.

He said that while smiling. We know he dismisses witches and thinks they are ‘strange’, but here he sees someone who he thinks is the most unique witch of all. And he says it while smiling, as a compliment. He’s not saying she’s ‘strange’ like the other witches, he’s appreciative of how she’s different from them. He appreciates how Akko is nothing like the stuck up, worthless witches he met before and likely grew up hearing about from his father.

A long time ago, Shiny Chariot made Akko believe that magic was a wonderful thing. She was considered little more than a gaudy stage performer by the magic community and was dismissed by them, much like Akko is being dismissed now. But she changed Akko’s life with that show; she showed Akko magic can be something amazing. I think if Akko is going down the path of Shiny Chariot, then a major milestone is going to be the first time she truly inspires someone with her magic.

And I think that someone will be Andrew. I think Akko might just become Andrew’s Shiny Chariot. 

What would make it all the sweeter is seeing the looks on everyone’s faces when they see Andrew Motherfucking Hanbridge cheering on Akko, the class dunce, as the president of her one-man fanclub. Oh god, I hope this happens.

pining hcs for tjeffs;

boss’ memo : alternative title: “so, he likes you. how can i tell? well–”

Originally posted by gravitywon

  • thomas has an almost childlike way of dealing with someone he’s got a crush on, in that he will roast them (and then will promptly scream internally and will for himself to stay quiet and leave you alone,, stop insulting your crush, thomas. they don’t come here to be burned)
    • he generally will seek out your attention through teasing (both of the making fun and the flustering type)
      • he may attempt to brag about all his prior partners to see the reaction it gets from you–he’s found that it’s best to identify someone’s motives when they’re upset, and he’d really like to know how you feel about him. he obviously doesn’t want you to dislike him either, so he does allow himself to do nice things to earn your favor,,
      • overall, he wants to know what makes you tick, so he can find his way into your heart.
    • thomas gives you strange, backhanded compliments??
      • “that shirt looks awful. here’s this one that i just happened to be carrying around that just so happens to make you look really good.”
      • it’s almost as if he’s thinking of the compliment first, and then trying to follow it up with an insult so he doesn’t seem soft…
  • if you start acting mean to him as a result of his behavior–and you’ve got every right to–it’s likely that he’s going to complain to james, who will take one look at thomas rambling about you, and will just leave to tell you himself. based on the way james says it, however, there’s a large chance that you won’t believe him.
  • one way to tell that he likes you is a sudden increase in physical contact–as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself once in your proximity and doesn’t want you to go. a gentle grasp on your elbow (he excuses this by saying it’s rude for you to leave while he’s debating), a presence leaning over you (he excuses this by mumbling something vaguely coherent into your ear).
    • another way to tell is that he’ll often be lost in his thoughts–looking off to the side with his eyebrows furrowed. he flusters whenever james snaps him out of it (which he does often. thomas likes to fantasize.)

anonymous asked:

Can i have the bros sarcastically imitating their s/o, the others are trying to hint to him that she is right behind him. Gods know wth would happen next omg xD

I wish that I could voice act because this would be perfect for that. XD



“Dude you look exhausted, more so than normal.” Prompto cracked.

“What’s the matter Sleeping Beauty didn’t get enough beauty sleep?” Gladiolus chimed in.

Noctis groaned, “No, Y/N kept waking me up, she was constantly complaining.” The young Prince placed his hands on his hips, raising his voice to a falsetto, “Noct get off me, you’re hurting me. Do you have to lay right there? Just let me take it off.” He groaned, mimicking your actions, only to notice the guys were staring away from him. “What are you doing?”

Both Gladiolus and Prompto were attempting to not laugh but pointing behind him, but Ignis was staring at something directly over his right shoulder. Turning around the Prince was greeted to you, an eyebrow rose, hands on your hips. He already knew he was in trouble.

“Swe…” Noctis stopped as you held up your hand.

“You were on my boob, the underwire was digging into my chest. So I hope you enjoy your pillow tonight. Ignis, I will be switching places with you tonight.” You stated, before turning on the balls of your feet heading back towards gathering kindling for the fire.

“Of course.” Ignis agreed, as Noctis turned to the man betrayed. “Hell has not fury, like a woman’s anger, Noct.”



“So care to explain why you’re wet?” Gladiolus inquired, as the blonde stood beside the fire trying to dry himself off, after you ducked into the tent to find a towel.

“Well, Y/N was all,” Prompto begun, before raising his voice to mimic you, “‘Prompto, bae, let’s go get some nice pictures at the lake side, it’ll be perfectly fine. All of the animals are fine. Go ahead step on the docks, it’s safe.’ What are you guys looking at?”

Indeed the others were staring behind him, to you holding a large towel in your hand. Waiting for the blonde to turn, before dropping it on his head, scrubbing his head with the towel as you laughed your revenge.

“Yeah, and who was the one who save your camera?” You smirked, removing the towel from his head, laughing at the messed up chocobo butt as the others had dubbed it. “Now go get changed so you don’t get a cold.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever.” Prompto groaned playfully, as you snapped the towel at him getting a yelp in surprise, as he moved back to the tent.

“And I have never used Bae, once in my life!”



The others watched as Gladiolus begun his tirade about you, it wasn’t that strange of a thing, he often would complain about you, and even compliment you often before his friends. Yet right now he was stuck in a loop of your latest hunt, using the mock voice he had develop for you.

“You were this close to hitting me, you can’t just go swinging your sword around like that! Are you trying to kill me! I have this I don’t need your help!” Gladiolus groaned in a falsetto, before dropping back down to his baritone, “If she had it then she wouldn’t have been in its mouth, she’s crazy.”

The three stared at the man, before almost as if they rehearsed all of their gaze moved to his left, then back to him, then back to his left. Gladiolus stared in confusion, only to realize that you were standing beside him, your body and gaze forward as you stood shoulder to shoulder with him, well shoulder to rib of the tall man.


“Two things, 1.) My voice isn’t that high, so if you’re going to imitate me do it right, 2.),”

Gladiolus and the others waited for two, only for everyone to groan and flinch as you finally turned punching him in the side, as the taller man groaned hunching over for you to grab his ear.

“I can kick your ass any day of the week. Let’s go.”

The others watched as you pulled the man along by the ear, quite possibly to get rid of the extra energy the two of you had left.  



You almost didn’t hear it, stepping up behind Ignis as he was talking to the others.

“It’s amazing Iggy Suga.” Ignis stated, imitating your voice and accent.

Everyone’s eyes turned to you, standing slightly behind the man, pressing a finger to your lips to signal them to be quiet as Ignis continues. You notice that he had picked up on some of your mannerisms, as you have taken some of his.

“What else did she say?” Noctis chuckled, his eyes glancing toward your own as you tried to stifle a giggle.

“In her adorable accent, she than stated, ‘Hope you’ve got a few more recipes, Suga I wanna try em all, if you’d be so kind.’ “ Ignis went on to say, he was obviously gushing about you. You were even surprised that he could say recipes without his own accent slipping in.

Gladiolus begun to laugh hard, “I’m sorry, Y/N, you look so happy.”

Ignis flushed a pink as he turned to you, standing there a huge smile on your face, “Darling, I wasn’t aware you were there.”

You giggled, moving forward as you pressed a kiss against his cheek, “That’s fine, just keep coming up with those new recipe-ehs.”

Your mock of his accent only seemed to make his flush deeper, imitation is the greatest form of flattery.

All The Sights of Paris

A new Zimbits fic!

Hello all. I have just completed my longest Zimbits fic to date. I’m very excited to share it with everyone. It features an amazing artwork by the talented @happyzimm.

Head over to AO3 for the full fic. Here’s a preview…


Summary: Eric and Jack meet atop the Eiffel Tower. It’s the beginning of a few whirlwind days together, but Eric’s leaving soon. How much can really happen between them in just a few days?


Eric hears the voice break through the clutter of other languages. It’s accented, but it’s English. Finally.

“Excuse me.” He taps the shoulder of the man who’s been speaking on his phone.

The man turns, and Eric’s breath catches. He’s gorgeous. If Eric knew, he probably wouldn’t have approached him at all. Eric enjoys flirting, generally speaking, but he’s terrible at flirting when he actually cares to.

But that’s not why he interrupted this man’s enjoyment of the Eiffel Tower.

“Yes?” The man says, looking down at Eric from a fair few inches above him.

Eric clears his throat, and tries to clear his head of distracting thoughts about the man’s eyes. “I was wondering, would you be able to take a picture of me, please?”

“Sure,” the man agrees with a shrug, and a small smile.

Eric is relieved. He’s been waiting for almost ten minutes for another English speaker. He didn’t think it would take so long, and he was too nervous to try using hand gestures to communicate with a non-English speaker, even though everyone up here is probably used to it, or has done it themselves.

“Thank you so much,” Eric says gratefully. He hands the man his phone, camera app already open. “Just tap anywhere on the screen.”

“Alright,” the man accepts, looking down to the camera screen.

Eric moves back to the edge of the platform and smiles at the camera. The man takes a few moments to figure out Eric’s phone, then he lifts his gaze to Eric. His eyes narrow slightly, and he takes a step to one side before lifting the phone and taking the photo.

“Hang on, I’ll take another,” he says, already moving to a new angle.

Eric just keeps smiling, though he’s been holding it a while and thinks it’s slipping into being fake. He moves his arms to a slightly different hold in case the other one turns out bad. He doesn’t want to have to ask this man to take another photo just because his arm looks funny. He’s intruded enough.

The man raises Eric’s phone again and points it toward Eric. Eric can see him tapping several times, taking multiple photos. The man has got little furrow lines between his eyebrows, which Eric can’t help but think is very attractive. There’s something about a man so focused that speaks to Eric.

Keep reading

House essays - 5th house

The 5th house is the place where ones creativity is present, and can also show how one compliments. It could also, in theory, be seen as how you see yourself.

Aries in 5th: This individual is very passionate and strong headed about creativity. They like art with sexual or angry connotations, and also do appreciate when someone successfully works with bolder colours and neons. They may view themselves to be a tad aggressive, and they work towards becoming less so. They will usually compliment someone on how well they can stand their own ground.

Taurus in 5th: This individual is more timid yet stubborn about creativity. They like art which compliments the feelings they have for an individual when they are in a relationship, but when single, they like more nature based art pieces. They might view themselves to be too stubborn to others, and could work on being more soft spoken about topics. When the compliment someone, they would probably go for complimenting ones facial features.

Gemini in 5th: This individual is intellectual and logical about creativity. They enjoy more simplistic, light items of art, but are open for more colourful pieces with some form of smart context to it. They may see themselves to be to analytical about minor parts of a person, and may want to work on their open mindedness. These people will compliment someone on how they communicate to others, and how formal they dress.

Cancer in 5th: This individual is caring and nurturing about creativity. They take joy in experiencing paintings with strong emotion to them - they don’t like negative pictures, but much rather positive! They might see themselves to be too easy to trick, and might work on building a stronger wall to protect their vulnerable side. These people compliment on a persons facial features - more particularly the eyes, as the eyes provoke lots of emotions. 

Leo in 5th: This individual is self respecting and confident about creativity. They enjoy seeing art works that reflect what the positive sides of their personality and looks are, but this is not because they know this, but because of how they like the positives of their lifestyle. The individual might see them to be overly egotistical, and could work on their appearance less - they are fine even without makeup. They compliment someone on their best features, and will also compliment their imperfections - this is why they can be a good friend for support.

Virgo in 5th:  This individual is intellectual and logical about creativity. They enjoy more simplistic, light items of art, but are open for more natural pieces with some form of realistic context to it. They may see themselves to be to analytical about minor parts of a person, and may want to work on their open mindedness. These people will compliment someone on how they communicate to others, and how formal they dress.

Libra in 5th: This individual is romantic and balanced about creativity. They appreciate the more romantic pictures, and they prefer the colours to be perfectly balanced to set the tone correctly. They might see themselves to be too fake, and might work on their friendships. They compliment someone’s makeup, facial features, and also might comment on the fashion sense of the individual they are complimenting.

Scorpio in 5th: This individual has deep emotional connections to creativity. They need to feel some story developing in the story, but not have the story being in ones face (basically something that only makes sense when you analyse the creator of said piece). They may see themselves to be too strict on others, so might work on their reasoning for doing so. They compliment how one argues, but also compliments the controversial topics they may bring up IF IT IS DONE IN A CORRECT MANNER.

Sagittarius in 5th: This individual enjoys creative pieces which take them on an adventure, or have philosophical meanings behind the creator. They appreciate work which is out in nature, yet has some form of, lets say, tragedy to it e.g. a forest perhaps burning. They like these as this both fuels their need for an adventure, but can also spark a few philosophical conversations - the likes of ‘what happens when you die?’ and ‘do trees have souls?’. They will see themselves to be too adventurous - they’re missing deadlines. They will work on their time keeping. They compliment someone on how much fun they can be, or maybe their adventure and how they want to go on one similar to theirs.

Capricorn in 5th: This individual indulges in creative pieces which have a strong message - work hard, and you will get what you want. They also enjoy moving imagery, which can change one’s negative life into a positive if they can change. They may see themselves to be too strict on themselves, and may want to work on becoming more relaxed. They compliment someone on their work and knowledge.

Aquarius in 5th: This individual takes joy in the creative work pieces with vibrant colours, and also enjoy strange context in an image. They like this because most people don’t - they may also enjoy trippy imagery. They might see themselves to be too rebellious around those in authority, and they may work on following rules more precisely. They compliment someone on their strange features - they can be a support base for those who are not complimented and really should be.

Pisces in 5th: This individual is one who may enjoy creations which have emotions, and may have a story to delude the reality of the world. They are similar to Aquarius in 5th in this manner. They might see themselves to be way too deluded when they think about various situations - exam results, tests,etc - and may work on being more realistic. They will compliment someone on their different thoughts, emotions, and their eyes - for the same reason as Cancer in 5th.

Sidlink Drabble 7

Read on here or on Ao3

Choo choo PAIN TRAIN 

Link lost track of how many times Sidon’s said it before–compliments, words of encouragement–and he stopped counting after what seemed the fiftieth or so. Every time he came to visit the prince in his domain, he would be referred to a ‘brilliant, gifted Hylian’ or a ‘most treasured friend’. Even now, as the pair stood on a private balcony high in the Zora’s tower, Sidon was telling a story and managed to slip a few of the strange compliments in between each statement.

His fingers tightly ensnared the metal railing and Link scowled down at the shallow lake water down below. His shoulders sagged and he squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head furiously.

“–I–Link?” Sidon had immediately stopped when he noticed Link’s behavior and turned his worried, golden gaze on him. His voice died down momentarily as a confused gasp escaped Sidon’s mouth. A webbed hand hesitantly reached for Link’s shoulder as he continued with a gentle, “Are you alright? Is something wrong?”

Before he could stop himself, Link turned on his heels and stared up at Sidon. He shrugged Sidon’s hand away and moved his hands up as his breathing intensified. ‘Why…do you lie to me?’ he asked, hands signing away at a quick pace. ‘I don’t understand!

The confusion on Sidon’s face, his posture, only grew as his head canted to one side. He blinked several times as he withdrew his hand and watched the gesturing Hylian before him. “Link, what do you mean? I haven’t lied to you.”

Link almost wanted to believe him; the sincerity in Sidon’s voice was extremely believable. ‘Why do you keep calling me things I’m not?’ he demanded with anger. With sadness. ‘I’m not…I’m not any of that!

“But…Link…I…” Sidon fumbled with his words. He was caught off guard by Link’s words, if his shocked, wide eyes were anything to go by. After a short flicker of silence, Sidon’s frown turned sympathetic and he stood up straighter. His arms fell at his side and he considered Link. “I have never lied to you, Link. Everything I’ve ever said to you, it’s been how I really feel.”

No!’ Link snapped back with lightning reflexes and shook his head violently. ‘I am not a worthy hero! I’m not skilled or…or clever! I’m a failure who has to make up for so many mistakes! I don’t even have my own sword, Sidon! I’m a failure. And you’re lying to me–

“Enough!” Sidon hissed and towered over Link with the speed and ferocity of a predator. His pupils were slit and he engulfed both of Link’s hands with one fist. His fins flared out menacingly and he flashed his sharp fangs. He kept a firm grip on Link and watched with disappointment as Link tried to pull his arms away. “No! If I let you go, you’ll keep saying such awful things about yourself. And I refuse to watch you do that.”

Link squeezed his eyes shut, so tightly he began to see red against his eyelids. He grimaced and held back a pained gasp. His limbs all quivered and Link immediately collapsed to his knees, but Sidon refused to let his hands free.

“I am many things,” Sidon whispered and sighed. “I’m stubborn…Brave, to the point of being foolhardy…The prince to my people. But I am not a liar.” He joined Link in a kneel and reached his free hand to cup along Link’s flushed cheek. “Do you think those awful thoughts because of what happened a hundred years ago?”

Link froze and bowed his head. He tried to pull his head away from Sidon’s touch.

“Things happen for a reason, Link,” Sidon continued on. His thumb gently and tenderly massaged along Link’s cheek. “As much as it might hurt you, you just weren’t ready to face Calamity Ganon.”

The tears began to fall and Link felt powerless. They splattered on the ground, his knees, his shirt.

“But now, you can! You’ve helped so many people already,” Sidon murmured as he gently wiped the corner of the Hylian’s eye. “Please, you mustn’t hurt yourself with such vile words. Please?”

The tears only grew thicker and faster. Link’s eyes burned.

Sidon slowly released Link’s hands.

Link crawled forward and buried his face into the Zora’s waist. He clinged to Sidon in desperation as he bit back choked sobs. He felt a large, protective hand rest against his backside and Link welcomed the touch.


AU: The dangerous leader of the “Brotherhood of Mutants”, Magneto, is saved by a young and inexperienced mutant, Charles Xavier. PART 1 PART 2 PART 4

“Erik, that’s the worst compliment I’ve ever heard!”

“How strange, I thought that it would have been the perfect catchphrase for you.”

"What? Groovy? I’d never say that!”

Hearth, half-delirious on the night Blitz finds him:

  • shivering, barely conscious, propped up against a trashcan in an alleyway
  • blitz drapes his coat over the poor guy and half-carries him to his flat
  • Hearth, not being in his complete right mind, mumbling, “you’re a very pretty person”
  • Blitz not quite knowing what to do with this strange compliment from this odd man 
BTS when their S/O is insecure about their laugh

Hoseok (J-Hope)
He’s actually in love with love your laugh and would constantly be doing whatever he could to hear it.
“Come on jagi, I’m doing this for you I know you want to laugh.” He’d whine nudging you. “Come on, or else I’m going to have to break into your underwear drawer.”

“Okay! No you are not putting on my underwear!” You’d exclaim and take the chance to look at how ridiculous he looked wearing the girliest dress you owned. Complete with ribbons, lace and pink hearts. You tried to hold back your laughter but the first snort escaped your lips and you caved, curling up on the sofa to break into hysterics. Hoseok’s face would turn so bright and full of love and he’d start to prance about your apartment posing dramatically for you and dancing until your lungs hurt and you begged him to stop.

Originally posted by sama-gifs

Actual adorable bean would light up every time you laughed especially if he made it happen.
“No stop hiding.” He’d whine when you covered your face with a pillow. “Why do you always hide your laugh from me jagi?”

“I don’t like it.” Your muffled voice would return and he’d frown, pulling the pillow away. When you look up at his face, you’d frown too. “Smile Jiminie, I don’t like it when you’re not smiling.”

“And I like your laugh Y/N. please don’t hide it from me.”

Originally posted by jikookshandshake

When the two of you were laughing together, the guys would leave knowing you would be going for ages. Between his windshield wiper laugh and your wheezing, the audio in the room could get pretty intense especially as you you both start to laugh at eachothers laugh.

“Stop laughing at me!” You’d whine, still laughing.

“You’re laughing at me too!” He’d argue and for a few seconds, you’d both stop, trying to compose yourself before breaking out into laughter so hard your stomachs hurt and tears spilled from your eyes. “I love your laugh jagi, it goes perfectly with mine!” You couldn’t say anything to that, your weird laughters did strangely enough compliment the other in a way only you two understood. Hearing Jin say such a thing made you feel less hateful towards your laugh.

Originally posted by jiyoongis

This kid is always doing weird stuff and taking the piss out of everything and anyone so it wasn’t surprising that he set you off everytime.
He’d always look straigh over offended for a moment, he always wanted to tease you about your laugh but both knew you were already insecure about it and secretly found it too cute.
His own cheeks would lift as he smiles at your laugh and carries on whatever he was doing, choosing to be even more extra so you’d laugh for longer.

Originally posted by taeaftertae

Namjoon (Rap Monster)
Always so considerate of your feelings, he’d make sure to smile your way everytime you laughed. When you’d see him smiling fondly at you, you always felt more at ease and didn’t try so hard to hide your laughter. Of course around other pepole, you’d try to tone it down but with Namjoon, you no longer held back. He had told you plenty of times that he loved your laugh, it was unique and he could never mistake it for anyone else being happy. Your happiness was his priority and if that meant he listened to your unusual laugh, he’d do so happily. And you never once doubted him.

Originally posted by namjoonsgurl

Taehyung (V)
Would be absorbed the second you started to laugh. He always found your laugh infectious and couldn’t help but join in no matter what you were laughing at.

“She is literally laughing because you just hurt yourself, Taehyung.” Yoongi points out one day having witnessed the ordeal. “Why do you always laugh with her even when she’s laughing at you?”

“Ah my jagi has the best laugh ever I can’t help but laugh too!” Taehyung beams making you smile, your embarassment from laughing so hard in front of his friends ebbing. “Even if she is laughing at me, it’s still my favourite sound!” Then he’ll proceed to shower you with affection and cute kisses all over your face making the other boys leave in disgust and your boyfriend’s overly affectionate nature.

Originally posted by sgfgdolans

Yoongi (Suga)
The first time he ever heard you laugh he looked at you so strangely that you immediately shut up and felt like crawling under a rock and dying. It took him a while to realise that he was the reason you didn’t laugh anymore but the second the realisation hit him, he’d work on getting your laughter out again. He would be subtle, not wanting to straight up say he actually did like your laugh he was just surprised at how you laughed, so it’d take him a while but eventually he’d coax it out of you.

“Ah I’m so embarassed!” You’d complain covering your face with your hands after laughing especially hard at his over the top attempt at aegyo.

“Why?” He was laughing too.

“Because my laugh is so stupid.”

“No it’s not. I like it.” He confesses and you look at him seeing a truthful smile on his face. “Why do you think I try so hard to make you laugh?”

“I thought you just like looking like a fool.” You tease and his face drops. You giggle and run off, a smile lifting his beautiful features as he chases after you.

Originally posted by mygslut

Yoongi was such a good bias wrecker that he took over entirely. It’s official, I am whipped for Yoongi. Sorry Tae, you’re second now but you still have a special place in my heart(and bed)

Thanks for the request anon! 

~Admin Chee

The Other Side

Jasper has somehow escaped, using a mysterious portal to go back to Homeworld and alert Yellow Diamond. But when the Gems enter the portal to try to stop Jasper, they instead find themselves on a very different Earth. Amethyst asks a local where they are, only to be strangely complimented for the quality of her “cosplay.” Pearl and Garnet deduce that they’ve landed in some sort of alternate reality and they’ll need to work fast to stop Jasper. They go inside a building to look for help, only to stumble upon a convention of people dressed like the Crystal Gems. Is there any way out of this world of costumes, merch and Q&A panels?

there will be time (requested)

I forget all my dreams
I forget everyones name I meet
I forget about time and space
But I can’t stop thinking about your face

Turning points are, someone says, a point at which a significant change occurs. Be it for better or for worse as it may, once it’s happened, there is no turning back.

At least that’s what you’ve been led to believe.

The day it all changed, the light was so very bright that you could barely keep your eyes open. The Sun kept hiding behind the clouds, demanding that Peter stopped talking to the Moon, with whom he had fought the day before; however, his violent rays shone through the thick layer of an upcoming storm.

Back then, it seemed like a normal day. You had woken up with Peter by your side (which had been surprising, but you hadn’t paid much attention to it), all mussed hair and sleepy eyes; you had smiled down at him, blinded by happiness, and he had smiled back, pulling you down into a slow, lazy kiss.

Once down for breakfast, the boys had greeted you, passing you your cup of herb infuse and patting Peter on the shoulder.

“Good night, Pan?”

You had glared at them, scoffing into your plate.

“You’re supposed to be children!” you had told them, making them snigger.

The laugh had quieted down soon, leaving an unnatural silence in the air. The light, as blinding as before, had kept shining.

A point at which a significant change occurs.

Looking back on it now, you think you know when the change occurred.

Later that day, Peter had completely disappeared. The boys couldn’t tell you where he had gone, nor they had seemed to notice that something was off. Even Felix, who was usually glued to Pan’s side, hadn’t known.

A point that turns.

Turns what?

Time. Space?

Life, perhaps?

Does it turn on itself? Does it turn you around?

You had found Peter in a cave. He had been sitting down on the ground, head between his arms, hiding his face from the world.

You remember kneeling in front of him, unsure if you could touch him.

“Peter,” you had whispered. “What’s wrong?”

He hadn’t moved from his position. However, he had started talking.

“I can’t stop this,” he had said, and he had sounded so wrecked, so utterly helpless that you had automatically wrapped your arms around his boy, only to find out that he’d been trembling.

“Can’t stop what?”

“It’s changing, (y/n). I don’t know how to stop this. I don’t k-know…”

Peter had cried, then, unable to say anything more.

“Peter,” you had said. “Peter, I need you to tell me. What is changing? What’s happening?”

Between hiccups, Peter had muttered: “The world is changing. I’m not- I tried to stop this, but there’s no way. I tried and I can’t and it’s happening, (y/n), it’s happening…”

“Okay,” you had said, inhaling shakily. “Okay, Peter. We can work this out, just… where is this happening? Where do we need to go?”

Peter had finally raised his head from the crook of his arm and had looked at you, slowly and painfully, staring into your eyes and petrifying you to the spot, draining you from every bravery you could have had moments before.

“It’s in my head. Everything is in my head.”

You don’t remember much more after that.

You remember his lips moving, saying words you couldn’t hear because suddenly everything went white, way whiter than the sunlight of that very morning, brighter than the sparkle in Peter’s eyes when he looked at you, stronger and more devastating than anything you’d ever seen.

And then there were none.


High school is, in the eyes of a teenager, the bane of one’s existence.

Too much people, all gathered in a single building, with god knows how many hormones circulating in their blood, walk through too small corridors, talking with each other. Screams, laughs, complains accompany the life of an average seventeen years old during a break from lessons.

You don’t have many friends.

You think you don’t need many people around yourself, if you have few loyal ones. That’s why your little gang is composed basically of three people: a girl named Selene, a guy that everyone calls Curly (even you don’t know his real name) and yourself.

You meet up at lunch, sharing a table in the cafeteria, far away from the popular ones, who always gather around the bigger tables in the middle of the room (do they need to show off like that? Is it required from their status?).

The popular ones (or the “bunch of dicks”, as Curly calls them) are loud, and usually snickering all the time. They appear to be unable to sit properly, instead choosing to sit on the table while they eat. Show-offs.

Among them, there is what most people call a “leader”, and what you and your friends call “the alpha”.

His name is Peter, but everyone calls him Pan, as an abbreviation of his surname (which is pretty stupid, considering that Pan was a respectable god, not at all similar to the Jerk).

He always sits in the middle of the group, like a priest with his loyal followers. A smirk graces his red lips at all times, and he never fails to wear something green in his outfit.

The popular ones are attracted to him in a pretty ridiculous way: it’s likely that all of them want to fuck him, or have done that already. They are enchanted by the way he speaks, by the way he moves and shines in a weird way, like he was once a star which had then fallen to Earth.

He’s always with a guy named Felix, all blond hair and American smiles. If girls don’t fall for Peter, they fall for Felix; sometimes they do both.

The others from the popular ones are only a blur around these two, like asteroids circulating around two bright stars.

You know them.                                                                                          

You’ve never spoken to them before (of course you haven’t, you’re normal) but you’re sure you know them.

Just like you were sure about Curly when you met him for the first time two months ago.

You remember meeting your friend vividly. He was sitting alone under a tree, reading a heavy book about wat techniques. You remember approaching him involuntarily, smiling down at him and peeking from above his head.

hppp“What are you reading, Curly?” you asked, the name running easily on your tongue, a strange feeling of memory and familiarity tinging in your heart.

He looked up at you with a wide smile, and then exclaimed happily: “Oh, (y/n)! Good morning!”

Then, you both frowned, because he wasn’t supposed to know your name, just like you weren’t supposed to know his.

“Uhm,” you remember asking, “have we met somewhere before?”

“I was about to ask you the same question” he replied, smiling once more, this time shyly.

This was where it all started.

You talked everyday, walked together to class, had lunch together. It was good, it felt right, like coming home after a long journey.

You also remember seeing Peter Pan for the first time. You were with Curly at the time, in the main hallway. Your lockers being close to each other allowed you to speak easily during classroom changes.

Peter was leaning against his locker, a few metres away from you.

You remember being in the middle of a sentence when your eyes caught sight of him, and you remember stopping abruptly, your breath cut off suddenly.

“(y/n),” Curly said, “are you alright?”

You remember shrugging, without glancing away.

It was strange, you thought, how you hadn’t seen him before. Ever.

Sure, the school was big, but his locker was relatively close to yours, and he was clearly one of the beautiful. And yet, you didn’t know he was in your school until that moment.

“It’s him,” you told Curly, involuntarily. You didn’t understand why you were so sure of who he was, and you didn’t understand why seeing him had shook you like that.

“What?” Curly asked, following your eyes and gazing at Peter’s figure. “Are we talking about the Jerk?”

Finally looking away, you stared at Curly.

“Jerk?” you repeated weakly.

“Peter the Jerk Pan, of course. The biggest dickhead of them all.”

“I’ve never seen him before,” you commented, feeling like you were lying. It felt wrong, because you knew the boy. You just didn’t know why.

“Strange. He’s a show-off. Literally. He bathes himself in attention and compliments. God, do I despise him!”

Curly had that way of talking sometimes, a bit like he came directly from another century.

You don’t remember much more about that conversation. However, what you do remember is looking at Peter once again, only to find him staring right back at you, eyes wide and smirk not in place, for once.

He mouthed something, frowning slightly right after. Then, he turned his back on you, and walked closer to a pretty girl with dark blonde locks and shiny blue eyes, approaching her from behind.

“I’m not sure I want to speak to you now, (y/n). Leave. Go back to the treehouse, and stay there. Actually, no, do whatever the fuck you want. I don’t care.”

“Are you going to stay with her all the time? That’s all I’m asking.”

“I’m going to stay with her for as long as she needs it. You’re being selfish.”

Peter turned his back on you, walking away fast and firm to Wendy’s house. You stayed silent, your eyes on the ground, holding back tears but refusing to cry.

“(y/n). (y/n)! What’s wrong? Are you okay?!”

Curly’s voice reached you, pulling you back from what looked to be like a memory, a sort of deja-vu.

“Yes,” you felt yourself saying. “Yes, I’m okay.”

“(y/n). You do realize you’re crying, right? Does it hurt anywhere?”

You touched your face, and found it wet with tears. You didn’t remember staring to cry.

“I’m not sure why I’m crying. I guess I just remembered something bad.”

So there it is, that’s your life.

Strangely, you feel like you’re living in moments and pieces, like your life is not complete except for the times you’re with Curly, or you see the popular ones. Like you don’t belong, and you don’t remember what you ate for dinner the day before.

Overall, it doesn’t feel like your life at all.


It’s during biology class, later on, that it happens again.

When you enter the classroom, he’s there. How haven’t you noticed him before?

He’s sitting in the first row, right in front of the teacher, which is weird, considering the overall stereotype of a “popular boy”. He’s supposed to be sitting in the back, doing noises and disturbing the whole lesson. But he isn’t. And the spot beside him is empty.

You slide into the desk next to him easily, like you’ve sat close to him a million times before, sharing secret smiles and meaningful glances.

But that did not happen. So why are you smiling?

A turning point is a point that turns the events unexpectedly. Apparently, it’s defective.

He looks at you, raising his eyebrows, but doesn’t comment on your choice of seating.

When the beautiful girl comes, he tells her to find another place, since obviously the one next to him is taken.

“It’s not my fault people have the will to decide where to sit, Wen. Christ.”

The girl (Wendy, your mind whispers) scowls at you, and storms off.

Peter, sighing deeply, turns to speak to you.

“Sorry about that,” he says sheepishly. “She’s so intolerable sometimes. It’s not about you, though. She’s probably angry at me because I didn’t save a spot for her. Though I’m not sure why I’m telling you all of this.”

He frowns (again), his eyes searching your whole face for something. You suspect you’re looking for the same thing.

“It’s fine,” you tell him, showing a little smile. “I should have known your girlfriend would want to sit with you. I’m sorry.”

Peter grimaces and turns to look straight ahead, facing the blackboard.

“Right. Like I said, it’s not your fault.”

He stays silent for a while, fumbling with his pencil and tapping it lightly on the desk.

Then, suddenly, he turns again, and stares right into your eyes.

His eyes are green, you notice; they’re full of blue wells, and green forests, with trees and clearings and silver streaks of stars.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“What’s your name?” the boy in green asked, kneeling before you to meet your gaze.

He looked trustworthy, you thought. He looked like he could protect you from the fires and bring you the stars.

His smile was gentle as he untangled you from the ropes. The pirates had long gone, leaving you behind on accident. The captain would be angry with them.

“I’m (y/n),” you tell him, biting your lip, the memory still vividly impressed on your mind.

“I’m (y/n),” you told him, voice shaking just a little.

You stood, finally free, and watched him warily.

“Who are you?” you asked.

“Do you know who I am?” he says next. He must have realized how that sounded, because he blushes the tiniest bit, looking away from your face.

Heart warmed with something that speaks of home and tranquillity, you answer: “The only thing I know about you is your name.”

“I’m Peter. You can call me that, or Pan if you prefer. I’m the king of this island, even though there are no kings here.”

You made a face.

“How can that be?”

He smiled mischievously, offering a hand for you to take.

“You’ll learn there are few impossible things here. Come with me.”

He’s about to say something more, but the professor enters the classroom, shouting about homework and today’s lesson.

However, you notice that a cute, genuine smile never leaves his face after that.

(“See you around, (y/n)” he says at the end of the class, hand in hand with the beautiful girl, but facing you totally, like he wants to get drunk on the sight of you. You smile, nodding and waving your hand to say goodbye.)


Senior prom is the most stupid thing the world has ever invented.

Curly thinks the same. What’s the point, he argues, in dressing up in rented uncomfortable dresses to spend a night full of hypocrisy in the company of people you will never speak to ever again in your life?

You can’t help but agree as you walk through hallways and posters of couples running for the titles of prom king and queen, their smiles shining vividly (and clearly photoshopped).

Peter’s girlfriend is also one of the candidates, even though she runs for it alone. You’re pretty sure you saw Peter tear off posters of his face on the first day.

You also remember giggling about it, and drawing his attention to you for a second. He rewarded you with a wink, as he tore off yet another paper and stormed off to another corridor.

You and Peter talk more these days.

He shares P.E. with you as well (and why does he seem to appear only now?), and Economics. The beautiful girl doesn’t; she stares at you in the hallway, though, with fires burning in her light eyes. You suspect she doesn’t like you much (“and you don’t have to like her, either” Curly says).

The memories keep coming to surface.

At first they’re just visions, and they last something like two or three seconds. They always happen when Peter is around, and they’re usually coming from the way he smiles, or the way he scratches his nose.

You see a boy identical to him, sometimes a bit younger, always dressed in leaves and wood, holding a knife, or a flower, or both.

You see a forest, a river, a lake with sirens. You see the sky and the clouds and the stars.

They’re gone before you can properly remember them, though.

The most vivid vision so far happened when Peter brushed his elbow against yours in Economics, when he stole Curly’s spot while your friend was at the loo.

“You know that’s taken, right?” you asked him.

He smirked, and took out his books and pens.

“Yeah, well, he didn’t leave anything here so technically it’s not.”

“Why are you sitting here, Peter?” you sighed. “You know your people are going to talk about it.”

“Let them,” he answered. “The place I sit being a subject of discussion is something I honestly find ridiculous.”

You laughed, and his eyes lit up as well. And gosh, it felt wonderful.

“Right, fair point.”

Curly came back, an uneasy expression on his face the moment he spotted Peter in his seat.

“Get lost, Pan,” he said, gesturing at the boy to stand and go sit somewhere else. “I was here first.”

“My, my, mate, are we salty. You know this is a free country, right? I have the right to sit here as much as you do.”

Sure,” Curly says, gritting his teeth. “But I. Was. Here. First.”

People stared. You leaned towards Peter to whisper something to your friend, and that’s when it happened again, only stronger than it ever had.

“Pan, I was sitting here first! She’s supposed to show me how to carve wood tonight!”

The boy in green looked at the curly one, unimpressed.

“She can show you another day, Curly. I want to sit here.”

The boy glared at Peter, and then looked at you. “Please tell him you promised me.”

In that moment, the sky rumbled, showing thunders between its clouds. You looked up for a moment, and then spoke to Curly: “I think we can do that another day, alright Curly? Tomorrow I’m all yours.”

Curly sighed, agreed and left.

When he was far enough, you turned around to stare at Peter.

“You are a piece of shit, you know?”

Peter smirked, raising his hands to defend himself.

“That might be true, but you like me.”

“Do I? I’m not so sure.”

“I know of a way to make you like me, darling.”

You smirked, nudging him with your shoulder.

“Oh, do you? Then go on. Show me.”

Curly backed off, probably reading something in your expression that said it was better to leave it be.

Looking at Peter, you found a similar feeling in his eyes: suspect, wonder, questioning.

He didn’t look at you for the rest of the week.

Three days before the infamous social event, which you swore to boycott along with Curly, Peter comes to Biology class on his own, and sits next to you without preambles.

“Are you coming to prom?” he asks, not bothering to greet you first.

“Hello to you, too, Peter,” you tell him.

He huffs, lifting his hair while he do so, and nudges your chair with his foot.

“Well, are you?”

You sigh, turning on your chair to sit towards him.
“I hate proms. And I think this prom in particular is even more useless and stupid than the other ones. So, no, basically I am not going to prom.”

Peter whines, and reaches to touch your hand, which is resting on the table.

The treehouse was silent, as the world outside. Nights on Neverland were usually quiet, only disturbed by the sound of the wind blowing through the trees.

Your hand laid on the covers of the mattress, intertwined with Peter’s. He had made the ceiling open, showing the night sky in full glory.

“Do you think they notice if we’re sad?” you asked.

“I don’t know. They can be pretty selfish sometimes.”

You stayed silent, squeezing his hand tighter. The stars, upon you two, shone bright.

“Are you sad here?” he asked quietly.

You turned your head to the right to look at Peter.

“I am the happiest I’ve ever been.”

He smiled, turning as well, and got closer to you until your noses touched.

He took a deep breath, and opened his mouth…

Peter retreats his hand, inhaling sharply and staring at you, eyes wild and shocked.

“Please tell me I’m not the only one who saw that” he whispers, clenching his hands into fists.

You shake your head imperceptibly, gulping. You saw that too. Of course you did.

Peter exhales shakily. The professor comes in, of course he does, and asks the class for silence.

“(y/n),” Peter says, tilting towards you. “Come to prom. Come and we can talk or something. I don’t… I don’t know what’s going on with me anymore.”

You simply nod.

“I don’t know what’s going on either.”

Curly will have to surrender to you, somehow, because you sure as hell aren’t going alone.


“You owe me your firstborn for this.”

“You’re being dramatic, Curly.”

“I am not.”

You and your friend walk down the path to the school, your heels loud on the asphalt, his suit uncomfortable.

“This thing itches” is the first thing he said to you when you opened the door. “And I despise you, (y/n).”

Music can be heard from inside the building, and a row of balloons mark the way to the gym where prom is happening.

“Why are we doing this? Why are we conforming to the mass?”

You huff, taking your friend’s hand and pulling him close.

“We’re here because it’s going to be… tolerable. Maybe you can dance with Selene and tell her about the huge crush you have on her.”

Curly blushes, and you’re sure he’s hoping it will get by unnoticed. No such luck.

“Stop blushing, you idiot. She’s madly in love with you.”

“What are you going to do if I dance with her all the time? Assuming that’ll happen, obviously.”

You shrug, taking a deep breath and entering the door.

“I’m gonna try to spike the punch, obviously.”

Curly snickers, and spots Selene almost immediately. She looks lovely, wearing a lilac long dress with compliment her light her so, so well.

“Go get her, tiger,” you whisper in Curly’s ear.

You watch the two of them as they greet and begin talking, the spark of affection clear in their eyes. As you turn around to approach the buffet, a glass of something appears in front of you, attached to the figure of a very handsome boy.

“How are you doing tonight, Ma’am?” he asks, smiling kindly.

Peter is wonderful. He wears a dark green smoking, complete with a black bowtie, and his hair are styled for once, every bang going in the right direction. His cheeks are slightly flushed and his eyes sparkle. He’s in his element, of course.

You take the glass, rewarding the boy with a smile, and take a sip.

“Is this alcohol?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

“No one shall know, my lady!” he answers, all giggles and teeth. He’s tipsy.

You indulge his behaviour, drinking again and then placing the glass on the nearest table.

“Are you ready to be prom king, sir?”

Peter sighs, hands in his pockets and glancing around furtively.

“I sure as hell am not. I wish Wen never entered that stupid competition. We fought all day and I’m pretty sure she broke up with me at some point. I just don’t care about being king of an idiot thing like this.”

Remembering the shattered memory from the first day you met him, you step closer.

“And what would you like to be the king of?”

He seems to ponder his answer, biting his lip softly.

“I’d like to have an island as my kingdom,” he admits, as he scans your whole figure.

“You look good tonight, (y/n).”

You feel yourself blushing as you scratch your neck, embarrassed.

“You don’t look bad yourself, Peter.”

He smiles. It’s so beautiful.

“Shall we have a look around? If you’re not with your friends, that is.”

You look back past your shoulder and find Curly and Selene close to each other, almost whispering as they never glance away from each other.

“I’m sure they’re pretty busy,” you comment ironically. Then, a thought passes through your mind, and you frown.

“Why would you want to be with me, of all people?”

Peter doesn’t seem to understand. Confused, he replies: “Why wouldn’t I want to? It’s not like I’m up for listening to my probably ex-girlfriend’s whines all night.”

“Yeah, but… Peter you have tons of friends. And girls who are watching you right now, hoping to dance with you tonight. Why did you ask me to come?”

Peter sighs, a hand coming through his perfect hair.

“Look, (y/n). I don’t— I’m not sure I can explain this to you. Don’t you feel like… like we orbit around each other? Because that’s what I feel. It’s what I’ve felt for weeks, and I kept wondering how I hadn’t known you before. I’m not—I just want to understand. Because I feel like this is far from normal. God, I’m ranting, aren’t I? Fuck. Sorry…”

You raise a hand, not daring to touch him yet.

“I know what you mean. I know. But I’m normal, and you’re amazing. Isn’t there, like, a school rule against us talking?”

Peter laughs. It’s an open, free laugh.

“I’m known for breaking rules all the time, (y/n). Try me!”

Peter is unbelievable. You’ve only ever known him as the Jerk, or the idiot alpha of an equally idiot group of minions, but he’s not. He’s more.

“You’re something, Peter.”

He looks at you, and it’s familiar, it’s home. He offers you his hand.

“Dance with me. Please.”

You take a deep breath. Then, you take his hand.

Once again, the night sky was glittering, heavy with the light of all the galaxies. Shining around you and Peter, though, were other lights, alive and burning. The fairies giggled as their figures lit up and flew around you, drawing bright patterns of light in the air.

Peter held your hand hesitantly, trembling just slightly. You smiled, getting closer to his body, and put your head on his shoulder, barely touching the bare skin above his collarbones.

Peter exhaled over your head and began moving, at first clumsily and then gaining confidence in his paces. His hand held your firmly now, guiding you to move to the sound of the stars, who were singing for your dance.

You danced around the lights slowly, but passionately, like there was nothing else that could stop or distract you from inhaling Peter’s scent and feeling his warm body against yours.

You raised your head and stared into his eyes. There, you found fondness, serenity, blinding happiness in the form of sparks.

“You’re too tall,” you told him, partially to distract yourself from the atmosphere, which was heavy with expectations and something that terribly resembled love.

Peter smirked at that, and held you even closer.

“Perhaps you’re just too short,” he said, eyebrows raised.

“Shut up, Peter” you whispered, your face close to his. You could count the shades of green in his eyes, and the freckles on his cheeks.

Make me, (y/n)” he replied smoothly. Therefore, of course, you complied, and lounged forward to kiss him on the mouth.

The stars sang louder, the fairies joined them, shining even brighter, surrounding you in light.

Peter’s mouth was exactly as you expected: sweet, soft and full of unsaid words.

He let out a little sigh of relief, releasing the tension he must have been holding inside before, and deepened the kiss, asking for entrance with his tongue.

You let him, curling one hand in his hair as he explored your mouth, stealing your breath and making your heart pound. You felt his smile in the kiss, the same smile of a little kid exploding with joy and pleasure.

As you pulled away, red-cheeked and out of breath, eyes sparkling as they reflected in Peter’s, you felt the same smile curving your lips, and forming a grin.

You don’t realize you closed your eyes until you open them again and find yourself close to Peter, closer than you’ve ever been, foreheads touching, bodies flushed close.

Peter is staring at you, with a gobsmacked expression, and eyes full of wonder and knowledge and tenderness.

“I know you,” he whispers, clutching your hand in his. “I know you better than anyone.”

You exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and your gaze falls on his lips, which are red and inviting and familiar. Peter’s lips feel like home.

You know this boy, just as he knows you. Memories come rushing down, slamming into your mind with the force of the ocean, and you remember. You pick up every piece and pierce it together, connecting the broken memories and gaining new ones, which complete the others.

You remember falling in love with Peter, you remember your jealousy when Wendy came stumbling out of nothing, you remember the days of happiness and the days of sorrow, the smiles and the pain and the tears. You remember the stars, and the dancing. You remember Peter and the boys, your treehouse, the camp, the forest, Neverland. You remember it all.

You immediately know he remembers too, because there’s awareness in his expression, and he’s breathing out love from every pore.

“I can’t believe we found each other,” he says, tilting back a little to breathe deeply. “I can’t believe I’m this much in love with you,” he adds, giggling.

“Yes,” you breathe, feeling the stares of everyone else on you. “I could say the same.”

Peter dares to look around, blushes bright red and challenges the crown with a proud glance.

“I am better than these people,” he comments. “All they can do is stare, apparently.”

You push him lightly, a laugh breaking the heavy atmosphere. You search the room for Curly, and you find him staring, as well. But what you see isn’t hate, or betrayal, or anger: what you see is knowledge, and a small smile that says I remember it, too.

“Don’t be a jerk, Peter.”

He grins, the smile taking up almost entirely his expression.

“But you love me,” he says, whining.

You sigh deeply, and guide him out of the room, away from the people who don’t know you.

As he closes the gym door behind himself, you turn around, and you tilt your head to the side.

“We should find the others.”

He nods. “Yes, we should.”

“Shall we go home afterwards?” you ask, a mischievous smile painting your lips.

He smirks, and nods again.

“Yes, we shall.”

emma’s corner: i know what you’re thinking. what is she doing, posting useless shit when we’re waiting for that damn ditmas chapter. I KNOW. but this is something to keep you occupied while i gather my shit together and actually star organizing my time. anyway, this was totally a self-indulgent fic, very american and all that, requested by THIS LITTLE FAIRY. i hope you enjoy it. and i hope i can actually get to the real deal soon and tell you about Felix. Until next time, friends!

Harry Styles Cooks... Volume 1: The Baking Years

In which Louis Tomlinson can’t cook, there’s a very special shower curtain, and Harry Styles used to be a baker. 

Or: Louis owns all of Harry Styles’ cookbooks, and he never intends to cook a single thing out of any of them. 

Or: I don’t know what the fuck this is, sorry. 

Louis Tomlinson can’t cook. He can, for the most part, feed himself and generally keep himself alive, in a frozen pizza, tins of soup, cereal-for-dinner kind of a way. He can do pasta and sauce, and cheese on toast, and sandwiches, and microwave meals and things which require zero attention, zero skill, and even less enthusiasm. Louis Tomlinson likes Tesco meal deals for lunch and cans of coke on the way to the bus stop after work. He likes bags of crisps, and the biscuit tin by the printer in his office.

He has a long list of things he doesn’t like – including but not limited to courgettes, baked beans, couscous, fish, posh sausages that taste of stuff that isn’t pork, vegetables on principle, drinks that are green, kale, stuff they sell in Waitrose, mushrooms, weird fruit, lentils, and pineapple on pizza.

All of this is perfectly normal and doesn’t bother Louis one little bit.

It doesn’t, however, go any way to explaining why Louis has an entire shelf in his bedroom devoted to Harry Styles cookbooks, or why his best mates Liam and Niall bought him a custom-made Harry Styles Cooks… pillowcase and duvet set for his birthday last year, with Harry Styles’ ridiculous face plastered all across it like on the titles of his stupid cooking TV show, or why Louis had to buy a DVR purely to save all the stupid episodes of each of Harry Styles’ stupid cooking series so he could watch them whenever he wanted. It definitely didn’t explain the three different Harry Styles-themed mugs in the kitchen cupboards, and it 100% did not explain the special shower curtain.

There obviously is an explanation for all of that, but it isn’t something that Louis can file under any sort of ‘wants to learn to cook’ headline.

Keep reading


She remembered the other Jotuns looking down on her, whispering to each other above her head about how strange she was. Such a small woman among frost giants, it had always felt as if she was out of place on Jotunheim. When she arrived in Asgard, it was her appearance that made others shrug. Her pale blue skin and deep red eyes were the look of a monster in this realm. She was, again, the different one, left out to be alone.

Until she met him.

Loki was, from what she had heard, an adopted child. She could admit that he did look different from the rest of the royal family. His black locks and pale skin, his gracious figure, all of this was opposite to Odin’s and Thor’s thick, tanned body and blonde hair.

She recalled, smiling at the gray sky she was blankly staring at, the very moment when that boy, who she felt quite curious about, talked to her :

« -Are you the lovechild of a Jotun and an Asgardian ? »

How shy did she feel ! This handsome man’s first words to her were so worthy on that awfully sunny day. Whereas everyone would stare at her or ignore her, he came and went straight for the truth, trying to understand her difference rather then judging it.

She had been hating the burning sun of Asgard ever since it first cast it’s rays of fire upon her icy blue skin. It was nearly painful, and she just couldn’t stand such heat, she that came from a frozen realm. But at that very moment, when the gilt light made the prince’s green eyes emerald-like and gave his skin a dazzling golden tone, she was thankful for it’s hateful existence.

She managed, after a short silence that felt somehow out of time, to pronounce an answer :

« -I am, Prince of Asgard.

-Then I believe I should teach you a little trick to look more like us here. »

She felt a pinch on the heart, as his declaration sounded as if he disliked her appearance and wanted her to change it, before he continued, gazing at the sun with a melancholic smile :

« -I have noticed you kept avoiding the sunlight. I believe this heat is hard to bear for a frost giant, but if your Asgardian side takes over, perhaps it should be more comfortable for you throughout your stay in Asgard. As well, if you do not have this Jotun face, my comrades will probably be less suspicious toward you, and you will have a better experience if you can socialize a little while here, instead of been treated like a… Stranger. »

He looked back at her, smiling in a peculiar ironic way, and she new that by stranger, he meant monster. Because that was what she was, whether she was among Jotuns or Asgardians. She looked like both but was neither. What was she ?

« -You are unique. » He replied, as if he had read her thoughts. This time, his smile was genuine, and she was overwhelmed by his gaze, as if he was stripping her of her physical appearance and reading into her soul as in the pages of an uncommon but fascinating book. The young woman smiled at the prince. She felt as if her whole world had been brighten up by his smile. For the first time, she wouldn’t feel lonely.

Little by little, he taught her some magic basics that could help her use her different genes to vary her looks. She remembered him taking her blue fingers in his hands that were so cold, to lead them as if in a dance. She learned quickly and was soon able to see her other face, the one of an Asgardian.

And the man had seen right. People felt less uneasy and came to speak to her. Her time is Asgard was much better since she had met the God of Mischief. And the sun would be much more tolerable, but she still preferred cool weather.

Such as today’s.

Little was she aware that she wasn’t alone in this hall. The younger prince was discretely spying on her, dreamy. There wasn’t anyone else to spoil this instant. Now that she had been speaking to others, he had not been able to find a single moment to have her for himself. But on this cloudy day he did, and he was savoring that idea before going to her.

Then, thunder roared loudly. He saw her jump from fright, and her skin turned blue as she was so startled. Her reaction stole a smile from his lips, and he walked up to her, chuckling :

« -It seems that you’ve just had a good scare, my dear ! »

She looked at him with her red eyes, her heart beating faster then usual, but she couldn’t tell if it was that horrifying sound or his piercing eyes. His predator-like smile, filled with mischief, softened as she noticed her blue hands and began to make them pale again.

« -Do not. You can stay like this, it does not bother me. It has some strange beauty. »

She suddenly felt her cheeks burn as this compliment left Loki’s mouth. It was nothing much, but those words turned her upside down. For the first time, she was something else then weird or different. The prince laughed lightly, making her blush even more, before he spoke in a playful tone :

« I didn’t know Jotuns had purple cheeks ! This is probably the cutest blushing I was given to witness. »

Her embarrassment grew even more, and she was about to defensively reply that she wasn’t blushing when something outside caught her attention.

Something fell from the sky, quickly, and she did not have the time to identify it, but soon, another one did as well. More of them did. She gazed in disbelief, and bent from the window. Some fell on her head, and slid down her hair before continuing their fall. It was all colorless, and it felt cold on her skin, as she noticed it to be wet.

« What is this… » she muttered to herself.

Loki realized that the young girl, having grown up on Jotunheim, was for the first time witnessing this natural phenomenon, and her innocent eyes curiously staring at the sky warmed his cold heart a little.

« It looks like tears… It’s sad but beautiful ! »

A strange new fragrance caressed her little blue nose as another drop fell on the tip of it, surprising her before a soft giggle came out of her throat. Loki couldn’t help but smile, and in a soft tone, he declared :

« -This is rain, my dear. It is only water falling from the sky. I can teach you how this works if you want to know more about it.

-It’s like snow on Jotunheim but with water ! Loki, I want to go outside ! » She cheerfully screamed before running toward the nearest exist. He followed, of course. He wanted to watch her discover this little trick from his realm with her childish delight.

She ran outside, then stopped and stretched her bare arms out, before tilting her head back to receive this blissful freshness on her face. After a while, she parted her lips to stick her tongue out, and giggled as drops landed on it.

He joined her, feeling her childish joy poor into him. She did look funny, with that deep blue tongue of hers hanging out of her mouth. Her hair and clothing were soaked, sticking to her body quite messily, and the young prince could see the curves of her silhouette that the delicate fabric always kept well hidden. He gazed at her, realizing that no other woman could compare to such innocent beauty.

The sent of wet soil was everywhere around them, and the Jotun was delighted by it. She was dancing in the rain, bare foot, splashing water around her when she would step in a puddle. She liked it better then Jotunheim’s snow. It tickled her skin, it was refreshing but not freezing. She looked at Loki, with a bright smile on her face.

The prince was beyond handsome now. Some strands of wet hair stick to his face, giving him a slightly more savage attitude. Could this man ever look anything like but gorgeous ? His smile always had her shiver, and right now, she was thankful for the rain, that made him even more beautiful then the burning rays of gold had the day Loki had cast a bright light upon her cold and dark world.

She came up to him and took his arm in her small hands, before yelling that he had to catch her now, and ran off, all excited by this new weather she had just discovered. He coudn’t help it and smiled again, before going after her, allowing himself be a child again, letting go of reality. He ran after that girl under the rain, playing and laughing heartfreely with her, and it was just like a dream, a piece of life full of pure joy and a pinch of innocent, growing love.

Little was she aware that she had, as well, brought a new breath to his agonising heart, swollen with pain and darkness. She made it all different, looking straight at him unlike others did, as they always preferred his brother. That bitter taste he had since the truth about himself was revealed to him was softenend by this sweet girl, half Jotun and half Asgardian.

Just like him.