the middle one warms my heart

if people were elements,
then we are ice and fire.

your touch is frost upon my burning skin,
my breath melts your frozen heart.
your kiss is cool against my lips,
and my heat warms you all the way down
to the tips of your toes.

and although we could complement each other,
beckon the other away from the end of polarity
to come and meet in the middle,
too much of one

will eliminate the other.

—  and i’d never forgive myself if i caused your destruction, c.j.n.
Mend the Heart Spell

A spell to start healing emotionally after rejection.

Originally posted by princess-of-positivity

You Will Need:

💝 Rose Petals
💝 Warm Water
💝 A bowl
💝 2 White Candles
💝 Rose Quartz
💝 1 bag of Chamomile Tea
💝 Red Fabric
💝 Needle
💝 White Thread
💝Scissors

Preparation:

From your fabric cut out a heart and cut it down the middle so you have two halves. Thread your needle before beginning spell (just makes it easier).

Steps:

💝 Place your rose petals at the bottom of your bowl then add your rose quartz on top

💝 Carefully fill bowl with warm water then add your chamomile tea. Leave it near you to steep. 

💝 Light both candles one to your left and one to your right in front of you. Let them burn during the rest of the spell.

💝 “My heart was broken, but it will heal, it will mend, it will seal.” While saying this take your two pieces of heart in either hand and place them down in front of you pressed together

💝 Take needle and thread and begin sewing it up the middle, repairing it. “It will heal, I will heal” repeat this mentally or verbally as you sew up the heart. 

💝 Tie off the thread once done and cut it if needed so you have a mended heart. Move the bowl between the two candles before you. 

💝 “I will be okay” and place your mended heart into the water and let it soak there over night. Blow out your candles but still leave them to either side of bowl for the night.

💝 Come morning take out your heart and place it in a window to dry (you may place it on a plate or paper towel to prevent it from getting things wet). After removing your rose quartz from the bowl, pour it down the drain or toilet. Imagine this action is pouring out the pain you felt from the rejecting.

💝 Once your heart has dried place it beneath your pillow. Keep it there until you feel you have finally gotten over the rejection then burn it to release the last of your pain.

A while ago, I had this ask about my Klance parenting headcanons, so here are some more.

  • Child: *babbles something at Keith*
    Keith: Is that so?
    Child: *babbles more*
    Keith: Oh wow! *turns to Lance* what did our child just say to me?
  • Lance is the parent that sees his child do something like run and is like, “I can’t believe my kid is going to compete in the Olympics one day.”
  • The idea of being the tooth fairy kind of freaks Keith out a bit because “What if they’re laying directly on the tooth? What if I can’t find it? WHAT IF THEY WAKE UP?” so Lance has to do it.
  • Lance: No more sleeping in mine and dad’s bed anymore, okay? You’re all big kids now.
    Lance: *lets them into their bed that night*
  • They both like it when they get to spend time with only one of their kids. It’s a way for them to see what they’re like by themselves and let them speak without getting interrupted by another sibling. Every kid gets a day to spend with them every once in a while and do whatever they want.
  • Keith got sad when he realized that it was getting harder for him to carry his kids up to bed because they were getting so big. He wishes they could be babies forever.
  • Imagine Keith jogging while pushing a stroller.
  • Lance gives the best piggyback rides.
  • Lance has definitely used the baby monitor as a walkie talkie.
  • When their first kid was potty training, Keith didn’t understand why Lance would get so enthusiastic when their son would successfully go.
    Lance: Babe, this is a milestone in his life!
    Keith: It’s just poop? It’s kind of gross.
  • When their second son/third kid was learning how to walk, he would only do it if he was supported by something, like a hand or hanging onto furniture to guide him. One day, Lance was sitting in the living room doing whatever and his son crawled in and stared at him for a few moments. Out of now where, he stands up, which he could already do without any support, and runs a lap around the living room without holding onto furniture and darts out of the room. Lance sits there in shock for a few seconds and is then like, “KEITH OUR SON JUST RAN A LAP? WITHOUT HOLDING ANYTHING??”
  • One of the kids has a bug catching phase, so that means they’re bringing in a bunch of containers filled with different bugs and Lance and Keith aren’t too amused, but support them anyway.
  • Keith is the parent that turns on the light while waking the kids up for school.
  • As said in the last post, their daughter is very attached to Keith, so when she started going to school, he felt a little empty because he’s so use to her clinging to him and it was odd knowing she wasn’t there.
  • They were both pretty calm while teaching the kids how to drive. Lance made sure he was the one to teach them how to parallel park because, “I’ve been a pro since day one.” Keith would be silent most of the time except for small comments like, “You should’ve take that turn slower”, “Break a little sooner”, “Pass this person why are they going almost ten below the speed limit”.
  • Imagine Lance rocking a baby in a rocking chair in the middle of the night, humming softly, and looking down at them with so much love in his eyes.
  • Keith has now seen a bunch of Disney movies he’s never seen before because of the kids.

simple and sweet

summary: little sequel to this rockstar au mixed with best friends get pregnant fic (alternatively, “so much beautiful sweet fluff” - @swans-and-pirates)

word count: ~1800

a/n: I wrote more because it’s Friday and I needed to flex my writing muscles weeee (thanks to Meagan for reading and flailing! <3)


They’re all giggles when they fall into their bed on the evening of their wedding.

They’d decided unanimously that of course they’d get married without making a big deal out of it. 

They didn’t tell anyone, and while they might come to regret the decision later, as Emma feels the cool metal of her husband’s wedding band against her skin, her heart leaps and she can’t help from grinning wide.

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cutiepieren  asked:

HC that every time Yuuri leaves for competition Phichit takes a hundred snapchats of his ass with the caption "seduce the judges with your award winning ass". Phichit has half a million followers

Phichit’s most liked post on social media of all time was a picture that he took of Yuuri one day when it was boiling hot in Detroit and they were both doing warm up stretches outside. And because it was hot and they were alone Yuuri was wearing his practice shorts aka the ones he uses for pole dancing class. The picture was taken in the middle of one of his stretches and captioned ‘my best friend could kill a man with his thighs’ and it went viral in like, seconds 

Third Christmas

the series is as follows so far:

FirstSecond ThirdFourthFifthFifth Christmas, Part 2SixthSeventhEighthNinthTenthEleventhTwelfthThirteenthFourteenthFifteenthSixteenthSeventeenthEighteenthNineteenthTwentiethTwenty-firstTwenty-secondTwenty-third

———————–

He stood for a good twenty minutes in the Christmas shop, surveying rows and stacks of ornaments, wondering which would be a good fit for their third year together. He’d gotten her the alien and the Woodstock Snowman and he was leaning towards the Dog trapped in Christmas Lights when something else caught his eye.

A crystal snowflake, cut in such a way that the light caught it from a hundred different angles.

Without thought to price, he bought it, along with two stockings and a box of candy canes.

&&&&&&&&&&

Knocking lightly, he didn’t hear a sound from inside her apartment but given her car was parked at the curb, he used his key, figuring she was probably asleep on the couch. Opening the door, he found the room dim but not pitch black, the only light coming from the TV, which seemed to be on the Weather Channel. Locking behind him, he silently got out of his shoes, hung his coat, tiptoed to the couch, finding her just where he thought she’d be.

Looking up from her sleeping face after a minute, he saw her half-assembled Christmas tree, two sections done, the rest spread across the carpet. With a quietly sad sigh, he lay a second blanket over her and got to work, the glow of the tropical update assisting in his task. It didn’t take too long to get the tree together, after which he opened up the ornaments, putting the newest addition on first, methodically hanging the rest like they’d done in the past.

After stashing the boxes back in the hall closet, he returned to find her eyes open, looking at the tree. He could almost see her trying to remember if she had done it before she fell asleep and kneeling down in front of her, hand pushing back her hair, finding her forehead warm, “hey there.”

“Hi.”

“How are you feeling?” Even in the dark, he could see her turn slightly green at the question so he moved on quickly, pointing over his shoulder, “hope you don’t mind. I tried to be just as OCD about it as you are.”

She wanted to make a joke, give him something to hold on to but the chemo she’d received earlier in the day was taking its toll, wiping her out to the point where even moving her eyelids was exhausting. Forcing her focus on the tree for a moment, she looked back up at him, her voice frail, shatteringly feeble, low to the point he had to lean in, “it looks beautiful. Thank you.”

“I’m not done yet.” Standing after dropping a kiss to her nose, he moved to the other items he’d purchased, affixing the two stockings to the mantle with sticky hooks, then crooking a candy cane in each, he adorned the tree with the rest. “I decided we needed stockings and candy canes. You’ve never put them on before and they looked festive, so I bought ‘em.” Pulling one back off the branches, he returned to sit by her head, unwrapping the candy as he did so. Holding it out to her, “share?”

“Oh, Mulder, I don’t think my stomach can take it right now.”

“It’s peppermint though. That’s supposed to be good for nausea.”

Her heart warmed at the idea of him reading something and paying attention and thinking of her in the middle of wherever he’d been shopping. Wiggling her hand free, she took the candy and sucked on the end for a moment or three before handing it to him, “your turn.”

It took nearly half-an-hour to consume the striped goodness, which they did in silence, Mulder having flipped through the channels on her TV until he found ‘The Christmas Story’, sound off but better than watching half of the country basking in warm temperatures while they had wind chills in the negative double digits. Tossing the now empty wrapper on the coffee table, “you want some help getting to bed or would you like to stay out here?”

It the quiet of winter darkness, rainbow reflections dancing on the walls and in Mulder’s ancient-souled eyes, she didn’t know how to hide anymore. “I was sick in bed earlier and never got around to cleaning it up.”

Tilting his head, he smiled softly at her, his hand back on her forehead, fingers in her hair, “then thank God I gave you something peppermint or this would be an unbearable conversation.”

Oh, he so desperately wanted to make her feel better and for just a moment, she did, chuckling a wet, tear-y laugh, then wincing, her head aching as well. Seeing her, he stopped smiling, getting serious, “spare room?”

“Covered in Christmas presents that still need wrapping.”

“Well, damn it, woman,” he stood, then held out her hand, “can you give me 38 seconds to get this sofa open for you? You need a better place to sleep than all curled up like that.”

Bracing herself, she stood slowly, but the horizon change still got her, the dizziness driving her stomach contents up her throat. Luckily, Mulder was ready with the trash can she had conveniently placed beside the couch and luckily, it was over quickly, nothing left in her stomach to come back out but the few dry heaves that made the bones in her back crack and her jaw pop, Mulder wincing involuntarily.

He also stood the entire time with one hand on her back and one on her hip.

They were beyond trivialities at this point.

He took the can quietly from her when she finally straightened up, letting her grip his arm as she moved the four steps to the chair. Handing her the bucket, “that does not count in my 38 seconds, just saying.” He swiftly lifted the coffee table out of the way, then, with Scully looking on confused, he rotated the couch ninety degrees before pulling out the bed. It had sheets already on it and Mulder grabbed two pillows from the hall closet and her spare comforter, elegantly tossing them all in place, “time?”

Feigning looking at her watch, “41 seconds. Better luck next time, buddy.”

“Shit.”

As he helped her stand, then settle down on the couch, she asked over her shoulder, “why did you move the couch?”

“So you could lay down and still see the tree.” Holding a finger up, “hang on.”

All she had time for was a deep sigh at the heavenliness of the pillow sinking under her head, her fatigue at its breaking point, before Mulder returned, wrapped in sweatpants and an old, torn t-shirt emblazoned with a Care Bear dressed as Batman with the superhero’s iconic symbol beaming from the animal’s chest. “I forgot about that shirt.”

Mulder clicked off the TV, then slid under the covers, not touching her, remaining on his side of the mattress, “the things I can find at a church rummage sale, Scully, would blow your mind.” Trying his best not to jostle her, he got comfortable, turning on his left side, facing both the tree and her profile as she stared at the ceiling, “I’m just glad you steal enough of my clothes on cases that I have a permanent stash here.”

Since she was on her back, she had to choose between turning on her left side to face the tree or on her right to talk to him. The tree won, given she couldn’t bring herself to roll twice and he’d moved the couch so she could fall asleep to the lights. She did, however, reach behind her, her hand flailing until Mulder saw it, taking it in his, “come closer.”

This was something new. They’d bunked down together before, mostly when he refused to leave her alone because she was so sick from previous treatments and she was too scared to be left. When he didn’t move, she pulled his hand towards her, giving him a second indication that she really wasn’t kidding but wanted him closer.

Scooting until there were just millimeters between them, Scully closed the gap, “I am freezing and you are the best furnace I have.”

Carefully letting his hand fall over her hip and around her waist, settling on the mattress in front of her belly, “is this okay?”

Already relaxing under the warmth, “perfect.”

“Whatever you need, Scully.”

Shifting her hand so she could tuck it under her cheek, keep her fingers warm, “thank you.”

Tentatively, daringly, bravely, stupidly, he kissed her lightly on the scar left at the base of her neck, the chip removed and gone, the cancer rampant in its place. He didn’t linger, he didn’t push, he didn’t expect but simply touched for a moment, then drew back, “did you ever sleep under the tree as a kid?”

“A few times,” her neck tingled, “Missy and I would,” her heart skipped, “but I haven’t since I was about 12,” her pulse quickened for a fraction.

“Well, it was high time you did it again then.”

“Yes, it is.” Quiet descended again, until, “the new ornament is beautiful.”

Desperate to tell her it paled in comparison to its owner, he instead moved just a little closer, moved the blankets a little higher, returned his hand to her a little heavier, resting it instead on the downward slope of her side, “are you warm enough?”

“Perfect.”

Safe and sound for the moment, queasiness calmed for the moment, Mulder wrapped around her for the moment, she slipped into sleep, knowing he’d be there when she woke up in the morning.

Aries: “In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.” ― Albert Camus

Taurus“Snow falling soundlessly in the middle of the night will always fill my heart with sweet clarity”― Novala Takemoto

Gemini: “I leaned out one last time and caught a snowflake on my tongue. They tasted so good, so pure and so divine, like nothing I had ever tasted from the sky.”  ― Shannon A. Thompson 

Cancer: “Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.”
― Edith Sitwell

Leo“The days are getting colder, have a warm heart.”  ― Unknown 

Virgo: “What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.” ― John Steinbeck

Libra“Advice is like snow. The softer it falls, the longer it dwells upon and the deeper in sinks into the mind.”  ― Samuel Taylor Coleridge 

Scorpio: “Winter, a lingering season, is a time to gather golden moments, embark upon a sentimental journey, and enjoy every idle hour.” ― John Boswell

Sagittarius: “People don’t notice whether it’s winter or summer when they’re happy.”  Anton Chekhov 

Capricorn“Love is like the winter, it can be beautiful and peaceful, but also cruel and cold.”  ― Unknown 

Aquarius “I realize there’s something incredibly honest about trees in winter, how they’re experts at letting things go.”― Jeffrey McDaniel

Pisces: “Kindness is like snow - it beautifies everything it covers.” ― Kahlil Gibran

30 Day Writing Challenge Day 5: Rain

The first thing Yuuri registered when he woke up was the soft pitter-patter of rain outside.

He smiled. Rain meant he could stay in bed just a little longer, since Victor liked to drag him out for a morning run. He liked running, but he also liked the feeling of just waking up, when your bed’s still warm and it’s the most comfortable place on Earth.

Yuuri pulled the sheets up to his neck and burrowed into his bed. He felt so nice, so warm and boneless. He could almost fall asleep again…

An ice cold hand traced over his side.

Yuuri shrieked and tried to wiggle away from the intrusion. An arm wrapped around his middle and pulled him back against a hard chest.

Yuuri turned over and saw a slightly blurred Victor. He smiled down at Yuuri and bent forward to kiss his forehead. Yuuri smiled and pushed his face into Victor’s neck. The hickey he left there last night stood out on his pale skin.

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Happy birthday to one of the most amazing boys I was lucky enough to meet. Existing at the same time as you is already a blessing, being able to see you grow and improving as well. Min Yoongi, the pale boy who seems cold as ice, but we know how much of a warm person you are. I’m glad to be part of the sea of fans you have and I hope one day you can notice me in the middle of the crowd, like I do with you. I would notice you anywhere, even in a room full of people, I would still find you. From the bottom of my heart, I wish you nothing but good things, you deserve it. The boy who had a dream, the boy who ran away from home to pursue it, the boy who shared his meals with other six boys because the money wasn’t enough, the boy from Daegu who is in love with his piano, the boy who raps until he’s run out of breath, the boy with the gummy smile, Suga, the lead rapper of Bangtan Boys, Min Yoongi, the boy we love 🔐❤

Day Fifty-Nine

-As a part of my paying job that I am hired to do, I had to drive a motorized cart across the front end of the store. I passed the guests, nodding solemnly to my subjects from my throne, puttering along at a reasonable pace. I have never felt more regal, until I crashed the cart into a wall and had to walk away through a crowd.

-An old woman approached my register, asking, “Are you available?” Unfortunately, I am not, as I have been in a committed relationship for over a year and a half, but I will take your interest as a compliment.

-Under my red sweater I had my pug-print button-up. An elderly woman noticed it and, in response, slowly pumped her small fist in the air and shouted “love them pugs!” This is precisely the reaction I was hoping for when I put it on today.

-A woman approached me while on a phone call. I braced myself to be ignored for the duration of the transaction, but instead, as soon as she reached me, she dropped her phone mid-sentence and greeted my pleasantly. It is nice to be prioritized like this.

-A woman in her sixties purchased half a dozen instruments from our dollar aisle. I look forward to supporting her Indiegogo campaign and purchasing her EP as soon as it is released. 

-I overheard one guest tell another, “If you want to get back at someone, give them your recycling.” The other replied, assuring her of how ingenious an idea that was. It was not, but it warms my heart to see young women supporting each other on the long road to super-villainy. 

-An enormous bug, the likes of which I am unfamiliar with, appeared on my hand in the middle of a transaction, crawling around lightly. I do not know where he came from. I do not know what his plans were. All I know is how loudly I yelped and how far backwards I jumped. 

-I stuck my tongue out at a baby. The baby began to scream and cry. I am a monster and I will never forgive myself.

-A man told me about the dog washing vending machine he was on his way to make use of. I wish I had been able to accompany him. There is nothing more in this world I would rather see.

-As a couple entered the store, a man told the woman, “Welcome to Canada.” I refuse to be the one to tell them how lost they are, but I hope they find out before January 20, 2017, for the sake of their well-being.

-I was brought a sangrita frappuccino sample. I had no idea what to expect, but what my mouth was met with was a fantastically fruity delight and I want another batch of samples poured into a venti cup and delivered to me as soon as possible.

-A girl produced a box of Goldfish, asking her mother if they could get them. Upon being told no, she replaced it on the shelf behind her. When I went to put it back in its proper place, I found that there were no other Goldfish in sight. I do not know how this girl made them appear out of the blue, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned from history about people who can make fish show up out of the blue, her mother could have saved a lot of money on the wine she was purchasing.

-An older man froze in the middle of payment, staring off into space. After a moment he seemed to return to his body, apologizing and telling me that he was waiting for the woman to tell him what to do. I looked around and confirmed what I had already thought: there were no women in the area whatsoever. Slowly the portrait of the store’s ghost becomes clearer and clearer.

-I informed a woman that she would not be able to sign with the card reader’s pen, but could use a finger or have me print off a paper copy. In turn, the woman asked if she could use the pen. I told her that it was not working, but that she could use her finger or an ink pen. She then asked me if she could use the card reader’s pen. I understand her.

-As I was walking to clock out for the night, I passed a young girl walking with her mother, her hair pulled entirely in front of her face. After a moment’s reflection, I turned to get a second look. The girl’s hair had not been in front of her face, but rather, she was insistently and impressively flawlessly walking backwards, visibly proud of herself to an extent I hope to one day attain myself.

-On my way out of the store, the man in front of me found himself trapped, as the outer motion detector doors had not opened for him. He turned around, threw out his arms, and announced to the store, “Guess they don’t want to let me the hell out of here!” I stepped around him and exited the store, leaving him dumbstruck in the same position, a solid ten feet away from the door, entirely out of the detector range.

I know I shouldn’t, but sometimes I still miss when you used to call me at 4am, when you were drunk and walking home, alone. You’d tell me about the night you had, and you’d chuckle to yourself at the sounds of me pretending to be mad that you woke me, even though I was grinning more than you were. I’d turn the volume on my phone up extra loud on Saturday nights, just so I wouldn’t sleep through it if you rang. You’d ask if I was busy tomorrow and I’d say “of course not.” I always thought there was something beautiful about drunk calls. The fact your mind was intoxicated and flooded with alcohol and yet I was still the number you dialled. Now, it’s a year later and the roles are reversed. Now I’m the one trying to call you, but when I drunkenly type your name into my phone, it’s not there. I don’t even have your number anymore and stopped turning up the volume of my phone during the night, because I know you won’t call. You found someone else and my phone calls were replaced. Now some other girl gets to be awoken in the middle of the night to the sound of your heart warming laughter and story telling. I hope she realises how unimaginably lucky she is.
—  Drunk calls mean a lot

@longagoitwastuesday

reblogged your photo

“Hermione Granger & Frederick Weasley”

#i haven’t reblogged this sooner because i was afraid of forgetting about it… and besides i find hard to make sense of how much i love it#i love the colors which are like a candle lighted in the middle of my chest#a candid candle warming my insides with a soft hopeful nostalgy that tastes like cold rainy days#it’s like the bittersweet nostalgy of the one who stares at someone they love endlessly and yet know they can’t have nor touch nor tell#and it breaks my heart because that’s a little what i feel fred’s stare is about#he has eyes of awe adoration; he looks gently and admiring; sweetly and loving; caring and tenderly; diverting and yet irredeemably hopeles#because it seems that behind all that sweetness and yearning; behind that enormous unasking pure love; there’s a resigned gaze#and it shatters my soul. it shatters my sould even more the fact that she doesn’t seem to notice#she’s distracted talking about something maybe he’s not even listening to#i doubt he is because his gaze is so intense it wouldn’t make sense for his body to have energy to sustain more senses. or maybe i’m wrong#maybe he is listening to what she’s saying and that is part of the reason he’s looking at her with that amused adoration#it also reminds me of that neville-canary scene in goblet of fire and that is even worse; even more disheartening#because that stare could have taken place (becase i always thought it did when i read the book)#because maybe we never knew of that love like she doesn’t seem to know; but often loves are untold and unknown and such they die (or not)#it’s even worse also because he dies and it breaks me into pieces to think someone who once looked with such a gaze can still die#(people who love a love like this love should be given a pass to avoid dead and become trascendent or something alike; sublime…)#i could spend days talking about the way he’s staring at her (this author usually makes the eyes so alive and real#-the gazes so sweet and sad; tender and deep; soft and intense; hopeful and hearbreaking; so nostalgic with a wound of loneliness;#a dance of emotional contradiction that reminds me so much to human kind…- as if the characters were breathing.#but i think this time she has outdone herself; or maybe i’m just partial).#i could spend days talking about the way he’s staring at her; i could write entire books about that gaze…#and they have been! somehow every book with a slightly romantic arc in it is now unnecessary!#this stare gathers in one look everything ever said in every book ever written in every language ever known#definitely#i talk too much#but i love with passion this piece (everything she does -the way she draws the eyes- but specially this piece). as i said it breaks my soul#and yet it feels like coming home after years wandering lost; i guess some homes look like shattered souls enlightened by soft candles#fred weasley#hermione granger#harry potter 

For this @longagoitwastuesday I’m sending you 30 hugs (one for each tag) and hope you have a lovely day :)

anonymous asked:

can I just say, I keep seeing all these other ovw userbox blogs popping up on my dash in retaliation to yours and I think yours are so much more attractive and sleeker looking, I love that you don't censor what people request and I love your grace when people attack you for your blog, truly you're a diamond in the middle of the rough that tumblr can be sometimes. no one can top this blog you're perfect

AWwww, sweetie~ ❤  You warm my heart!! Other blogs aside, I’m just really glad you and others like my content. ❤❤❤ It’s so important to me that y’all like what I make, since all of this is for the fans!!! Keep on spreading positivity and stay beautiful, dear!! :) 

3

i visited one of my favorite’s mayors this morning, in that dream i got to explore more clearly and i can’t explain how it’s so well made. I’m not a fan of pink but her town is so delicate and she’s  just so kind and warm-hearted  i love her.


(sadly my ds couldn’t take more screenshots because it reached its limit while i was in the middle of dreaming and wanted to take nice pictures :c but it’s okay!!!

I found his jumper 5 || D.H.

First Part, Second Part, Third Part, Fourth Part 

A/N: IFHJ part 5 is here! It contains a really cute flashback (cursive font). It made me feel all tingly while writing it.

Word Count: 2K (my longest imagine on here yeahy)

Masterlist

Originally posted by phanielhowell

I didn’t watch where I was going. Tears blocked my vision and all I wanted was to get out of Dan’s room. In the corner of my eye I saw Phil open the door to his bedroom and glance at me. There was a questioning look on his face as if he wanted to ask ‘Rose why are you crying like a baby?’.

I completely ignored the dark haired boy. My brain was focused on escaping. I didn’t have enough strength to face Dan anymore. My moment of braveness had faded as quickly as it came. Once again my steps echoed through the stairwell. On the way down I passed a few male students who all looked at me the same way as Phil had earlier: worried and confused. I pulled the entrance door open once I had reached the ground level. When I stepped out of the building I was greeted by heavy rain. Thick rain drops were falling from the sky. They immediately got my white t-shirt and black jeans wet. The fabric started sticking to my body after seconds of being outside.

'What now?’ I asked myself in despair as I wiped away the tears on my cheeks which was pretty useless considering the fact that it was raining heavily. I could tell the difference between rain drop and tear drop though. One left a salty taste in my mouth along with invisible scars on my cheeks while the other was cold and fresh and accompanied me in my sadness.

I knew that if I went back to my dorm I would be greeted by Charlotte and her rude remarks. She’d surely tease me about the lies Caleb told everybody and I wasn’t having that. Not now that I was an emotional train wreck. Hayley’ s room mate was probably over so I couldn’t go there either.

'It’s the library again then.’ I said to myself with a sigh.

So I started heading to the library, already soaked because of the rain. I still hadn’t stopped sobbing and now my shoulders were shaking because of the coldness too.

My hair was stuck to my forehead and I once again cursed the weather forecast and those stupid grey clouds and Dan for being such an asshole and myself for letting him get to me.

“Rose!” I could hear somebody shout in the far distance, but I just kept walking, not sure of I had imagined the noise. It was impossible to hear something through the sound of the rain, right?

“Rose wait!” I heard again, this time it was louder and didn’t seem that far away anymore. I abandoned the thought that I had just imagined the shouts. Then it hit me. I immediately stopped walking. My feet were glued to the black asphalt that was flooded by the rain. I could clearly hear him get closer and closer, but I was afraid of turning around. Fear was stuck in every corner of my body. Maybe I was afraid of facing him again. Maybe it was the fact that he called me Rose again. Or maybe I was afraid of the fact that I knew it was him because of the way my first name sounded when he said it. Or maybe I was just simply afraid because the way he said 'Rose’ gave me goosebumps. I stood frozen and stared at the falling rain. The drops of water hit the dark ground.

My lilac vans were dirty and completely soaked. I even felt the wetness in my socks. Without wanting to, my sobs got heavier again while I waited for him to catch up. Honestly, I didn’t even know why I stopped walking. Why did I not start running instead?

“Rose.” Dan said this time from right behind me.

I finally turned around slowly. I looked up from the ground and met his brown eyes. They looked so warm and familiar. There wasn’t even a hand’s width between us. His chest was so close to mine and I could tell that his heart was rapidly beating since he was panting like crazy. He was completely out of breath from running after me.  

“I’m sorry.” he whispered. His voice came out weak as if he was about to cry as well. I pressed my eyes close taking in his words. Tears spilled from my eyes. My lip was quivering and I had to cover my mouth with my hand to stop a loud sob from escaping. This was the second time that he apologized and it hurt even more now.

“Rose, I’m honestly so sorry. I don’t want you to cry, please.” Dan pleaded with a worried look at my tears. He had always panicked when I cried. I was still frozen, not getting out a single word.

“Everything you said in my room is true. I wanted to forget that I apologized and now I’m doing it again and I promise I won’t deny it this time.” he spoke quietly. He searched for my eyes but I was avoiding his gaze.

“Rose, I really mean this. I’m sorry for messing up so many times. I’m sorry for telling Caleb that stupid lie. We both know you are way too good for me. I’m sorry for making everybody believe that we slept with each other. We both know you don’t do one time things, you are a 'let’s get married’ kinda girl. You are also not dumb enough to waste your time with an idiot like me. I’m sorry for making Charlotte and her friends hate you. We both know you wouldn’t even stab your worst enemy in the back. I’m so sorry for making you cry. We both know how beautiful your smile is and how puffy and red your eyes get after crying. And god, I’m sorry for everything I put you through in high school. It was so unnecessary and cowardly. I’m sorry for who I became. I really am.

And I’m also sorry for breaking my promise.” He stopped to look at me as if he was asking for the permission to talk about that.  

I gulped hard. His words were still sinking in. They were flooding my body like the rain flooded the street. I still didn’t manage to look up and meet his eyes.

“Dan- what-oh.” I said as I realized what promise he was talking about.

Come on Dan.” I shouted with excitement. The sun was going to set soon and me and my best friend Dan wanted to reach our spot behind the woods to watch the sunset. It was basically just a little hill in the middle of a huge field, but we spent most of our summer break there. I was glad that Dan moved into the house next to mine a couple of years ago. Everyday I’d just have walk out of my house and knock on his door. It wouldn’t even take him a minute to put on his shoes so we could play outside. We had built a little tree house in the woods so whenever we didn’t go to our hill we’d just hang out there. Both of us were growing older so we didn’t play in the same way as we used to. But sometimes we just couldn’t help ourselves and we’d pick up twigs. I’d pretend it’s a wand and he’d pretend it’s a sword and then we would fight.

I’m on my way.” Dan yelled back, catching up. Dan had gained a lot of height in the last couple months and I always felt like he wasn’t used to his long legs.

When we reached our little hill the sky was dark red and the sun looked like a blood orange. I sat down in the grass and stared at the vanishing fireball in awe.

Wow, it’s beautiful.” Dan breathed as soon as he sat down beside me.

I nodded and then we just enjoyed the silence that followed for a couple of minutes. When the sun was half gone I looked over to my best friend since kindergarten. His brown eyes were focused on the sunset and there was a little smile on his lips.

Dan?” I asked cautiously, making his head turn.

Mhm?” he mumbled still deep in thought.

Do you remember when we painted on each others faces in kindergarten and our mums got really mad because we were actually supposed to paint a picture of the others face?” I asked him,laughing a little at the memory.

Of course I remember. I couldn’t get the blue colour off my face for days.” Dan said and a giant grin spread across his face.

And do you remember when we shared an imaginary dog and you even made your mother get real food for him?” I asked again, still looking at him.

How could I ever forget Mr. Bear?” Dan asked in return and I had to admit that Mr. Bear was unforgettable.

Oh and Dan, do you remember when we had this fake wedding in the woods and your grandma had even made a bridal veil for me?” I asked him this time blushing. I closed my eyes waiting for his answer as I hoped he wouldn’t notice my red cheeks.

Rose, sometimes I feel like your parents knew that their daughter would blush all the time when they gave you that name. You have the prettiest rosy cheeks ever, Mrs. Howell.” He said and somehow he sounded nonchalantly while I felt my inside tingle the moment he joked about me being Mrs. Howell.

Why are you asking me all of that though? It’s not like I could ever forget those memories.” he questioned and my cheeks got even hotter. I nervously chewed on my bottom lip not sure if and how I should address my concern. Dan eyed my obvious signs of insecurity.

Come on Rose, we have been best friends since kindergarten. Whatever it is you can tell me.”

I looked him deep in the eye as assurance before I opened my mouth.

Okay, well I’m just scared that you will forget about me as soon as you start high school after summer.” I admitted my fear. Dan was a year older than me and that had never really been a problem but why would a high schooler want to hang out with a middle schooler?

I will never forget about you. You will always be my best friend. I promise.” 

Dan whispered and smiled at me gently. There was only one last glimmer of the sun left and just as that vanished as well I felt Dan’s hand on top of mine. His palm was warm against my cold skin and it was something we had never done before. I glanced down onto our joined hands just as he intertwined our fingers. My heart skipped a beat and I raised my head to look at Dan. He was still looking ahead to where the sun set only seconds ago. I could tell that there was a rosy glow on my cheeks again while Dan acted like he didn’t even notice that we were holding hands. But there was a little smile on his lips that totally gave him away.      


(And now the question is how did they go from this to hating each other? Part 6 will be up next Friday!)

3

“Now, do the boys treat you differently or do they treat you like one of the guys?” The interviewer asked.

You let out a soft chuckle, which created Henry to smile. He watched you closely, feeling drawn to you without any idea why.

“They treat me like I’m one of the guys.” You stated. “I mean, when I first came on set, Jared and I had a scene and that jerk farted while I was in the middle of saying my line. I almost threw up, it was that bad.”

Both you and the interviewer laughed, filling the air. You glanced around hoping no one heard you snort. When your eyes met Henry’s you felt your breath hitch and your heart stop for a moment.

He smiled at you, giving you a warm sensation through out your body. Of course you knew who he was, everyone did. You couldn’t help but be attracted to the guy.

“Thanks for your taking your time out and talking with us.”

“Of course! Thank you.” You muttered. You propped up to your feet, getting ready to walk back to the green room where the boys waited for you.

But before you left, you glanced back to Henry, though he was already gone. You felt your stomach drop, and your lips fall.

Turning around you started toward the door, and in that moment you crashed right into someone, almost knocking you down to the ground.

“Crap! I’m so sorry!” You exclaimed, adjusting yourself.

“Don’t be, I’m not sorry at all.”

You looked up and met Henry’s eyes. The immediate rush of chills covered you as blood rushed up to your cheeks.

“Oh h-hey, hi.” You stuttered, flustering before him.

Henry only but chuckled. The moment you walked in, he was taken aback by your beauty. He was drawn to every feature of your face and the curves of your silhouette. He couldn’t even focus on the interview.

“I’m Henry.” He smirked, gazing into your eyes.

“I’m Y/N.” You exhaled.

“That’s a beautiful name.”

—–

The boys were in the room, snacking on candy and cracking jokes.

Jared took a swig of his water, and nudged Jensen’s side. “So are you going to tell Y/N today?” He asked.

Jensen shrugged his shoulders and nodded. “Yea, I think I am.” He smiled when you popped up in his mind. “I mean, now that Danneel and I are done, there’s nothing holding me back.”

Jared flashed a smirk, “it’s about time! I’m so happy for you man. Seriously. I know how much Y/N means to you and I just want you to be happy.”

“Thanks man. You have no idea how happy that girl makes me just by being herself.” J chuckled.

You ran right inside, a smile plastered on your face. “Oh my god! You guys will never guess what happened!”

“What? Did you get groped by a cosplayer again?” Misha chuckled.

“Did you find the Star Wars merchandise?” Rob asked.

You shook your head, heart still pounding profusely in your chest. “Nope.” Your cheeks ached from smiling so much. “Henry freaking Cavill just asked me out to dinner tonight!” You squealed.

Both Jared and Jensen shared a glance, and you were able to notice the disappointment in Jensen’s face. He was more than bummed, he was hurt. Feeling as if he were punched in the gut.

“Wait isn’t that the superman guy?” Misha asked, stuffing his face with some food.

“Oh yea. I’m going on a date with superman!” You exclaimed.

Jensen looked down at his feet, clenching his jaw tightly.
As you went on and on about how happy you were, Jensen felt sick. Nauseated.

Without a word, he walked out of the room. You noticed as the door closed behind him.

“I’ll be back.” You muttered, following Jensen out of the room.

As he was down the hall, you called out his name. “J! Jensen wait up!”

He stopped mid step, and quickly glanced back at you. His eyes slightly widened. “Y/N?”

“Hey you okay?” You asked trying to catch a breath.

He forced a smirk and nodded. “Yea of course. I just needed a little fresh air.” He lied.

You furrowed your brows, and crossed your arms over your chest. “Cut the crap Ackles. I had to put up with you for two years now, I know when you’re lying.” You muttered. “What’s wrong? You can always talk to me.”

He felt his body shiver as your hand laid gently on his arm. His heart paced and his palms covered in sweat. With on deep gulp, he looked up and felt the words fall out of his lips. “I’m in love with you.” He blurted.

Consigliere Part II - Kitten and the Don

This is the second part of a 3 part series for the wonderful Undertale AU ‘Kitten and the Don’ from @nyublackneko and @junkpilestuff, that revolves around a 30-year old Frisk, who works under Gaster!Sans, aka Don G, as a right hand man.
If you want to start with part 1, just click here! And if you have finished this part you can click HERE to go to the last one!

I am terrible sorry for the delay, but work was screaming at me too loud and I need to take care of a lot right now. ;_; I am also sorry, that this might be a rather boring middle part and I hope the final one will be more intense. However, look out for little hints, some are really subtle but they might be important later on! ;)

I hope you enjoy it despite the delay and thanks again for the flood of kindness you guys showered me in with your understanding and enthusiasm, it keeps my heart warm and my determination high!

Keep reading

How to Hold a Memory - snowbaz

day 4 lads are you READY for this angst fest - pastel/punk heck yeah.

Angst/Fluff

Mentions of death, homophobia, bullying, cancer.

One last thing, before the slate is wiped clean. One last memory of Simon Salisbury.


I am adamant that there is something slightly wrong with a boy like me getting a tattoo in a place like this.

See, I’m clean-cut: pressed cotton shirts and folded sweaters, golden toed oxfords and ankle-biting skinny jeans, all in pretty shades of pastel rainbows and not a lot of black. I belong in my sweet shop over the road. Literally. I don’t have time to be here and spin yarns with the boys behind the counter. I just need to book it in, tell them what I want, and go. This place gives me enough anxiety just knowing it has sharp objects, controlled by people I don’t know - people who could hurt me. Not to mention, I don’t look like I should be here. Graffiti and flower don’t exactly go together very well.

“Hello?” One of the boys calls from the counter. “Can I help?”

Fuck my life he’s gorgeous.

I step forward awkwardly. He raises an eyebrow. Neither of us have time for this, clearly.

“Yeah, uh,” I stammer. I think he’s sees my hands shaking on the dark wood, so I shove them in my pockets and continue as efficiently as possible. “Can I book something for tomorrow?”

He frowns at my insistence to be here. Crap, I hate this place. I can’t believe I’m promising to come back. The boy pulls out a pen and notepad with a sigh and taps the desk impatiently. “Tomorrow’s pretty busy,” he observes. “You could come over after your shift?”

“My…shift?”

Slightly pissed off, his grey eyes glare at me through his ridiculously rogue fringe. “You work at the flower place, right?”

Oh. Oh. “Shit, yeah. Sorry, I’m… Yeah, that’s fine - about 5:30.”

He nods, grinning slightly before reverting back to his standard, bitter expression. “I’ll be taking care of you, then. Do you have a design I could see?”

Quickly and far too anxiously for his liking, I pull out the note, the last note she ever left me, folded perfectly to avoid all of the words and leave just the drawing of two roses, intersected by the stems. I suck in a quiet breath and begin to consider that I don’t need to do this.

Then again, I do.

The boy, dismissive as usual, snaps a few photos and pushes it back across the counter. “Where’s it going?” He questions, for more conversational than I expected for someone who seems to have the same emotional threshold as a dead leaf. “Arm? Ankle?”

I try to stop my voice from shaking, but it doesn’t seem to matter as I quietly declare: “Right forearm.”

It surprises us both, how broken it sounds. The boy, grey eyes blown wide and worried, is about to ask something - please don’t please don’t please don’t - so I cut him off with a strategic cough and point to the inside of my right arm. “Sorry. Just there. Right forearm.”

He almost looks sympathetic. I smile briefly and only end up making it a more tense interaction. “Okay…er, could I get a name.”

“Simon.”

“And a last name?”

Oh fuck. I can’t say it. I can’t do it. I can’t-

“Snow.”

Lie.

He writes it down, frowns, quirks one eyebrow and sighs again. “I’m Baz. Come by around 5:30, I’ll sort you out.”

×××

I can tell he doesn’t really want me here, but I suppose that’s part of the reason I showed up - spite.

My oxfords click across the expanse of the tattoo parlour, the sound alone over-stimulating my anxiety. Simple things begin to worry me - what if I annoy him? What if he yells at me? What if I sit where I’m not supposed to sit? - and as 1000 worst case scenarios play on a reel behind my my eyes, Baz turns up looking a far sight more concerned than before.

He eyes my appearance - cropped, short-sleeved white shirt (previously hidden by pink sweater), light blue skinny jeans grazing above my ankles, my white, gold-toed oxfords - though I wish he wouldn’t stare. It’s obvious I don’t fit in with the scenery, but I don’t need him of all strangers to put me out of place. I just…need this. One last thing before I let it all go, start a new chapter, and never look back on my life before this day.

“Snow,” he greets lightly.

A sudden dose of guilt rolls through my chest. That’s not me. “It’s Simon,” I correct.

He shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. Leave your stuff over there, follow me.”

It is degrading to be wanting to sob my heart out in this stranger’s presence, but I push it aside momentarily to do as I’d been told. Baz leads me out the back and points to a seat. I almost laugh at myself for worrying about this part - but I remember Baz is here, so I don’t.

“All right - standard stuff,” he tells me. “It’s gonna hurt. Fuck what anyone told you. A needle is going into your skin, and it’s going to hurt like a bitch. Hygiene is of the utmost importance here, so don’t worry: the needle is clean, otherwise I would not have a job. After this is done I can go over some things to take care of your tattoo. Is this your first?”

I stare blankly at the ground. It’s gonna hurt. How many times has that been said to me these past months? “Yeah, it is.”

Baz pauses his work to stare me down, so I do my best to look like I’ve been intently listening to his spiel. He sighs. “Okay, are you sure you want to do this, Snow?”

“That’s not my fucking name,” I seethe.  Baz looks as shocked as I feel. With a quick cough and a hope for dismissal, I shrink back. “Sorry, I- yeah, I’m sure.”

He sits down on my right and examines his canvas. “It’s fine,” he lies (so obviously lies - he practically sang it out, lips rolled back back, eyes burning). “May I know what the roses mean? Is it a symbol for anything?”

He’s preparing my skin. I remember seeing them doing this in hospitals for IVF tubes, and leaving the room to give them space. I’m good at giving people space. “It was just a drawing from someone.”

He smirks. “A girlfriend?”

I don’t. “No.”

“Do you know how to be happy? Or do you flux between anxiety and anger?”

The needle goes in and jabs at my skin. I gasp at first, then sigh, because I was beginning to feel numb again. “Do you know how to be happy? Pretty sure your facial expressions range from pissed off to livid.”

Ironically, he laughs. “Come on, Snow-”

“That’s still not my fucking name,” I comment breezily, focus on anything but his needle, until it stops.

“What exactly am I engraving on your body right now? Because I feel you’re enjoying this far too much and I’m not about to support that.”

I grimace, head falling back on the chair. Baz is a stranger, cold in emotions and yet somehow warm at heart. His needle goes down onto the work bench. “My name isn’t Snow.”

“Oh, for fuck-”

“It’s literally not my last name,” I admit, slightly shaky. Baz stops, suddenly willing to listen. “It’s Salisbury. Snow is my middle name, but I haven’t gone by Salisbury for months now.”

Baz softens, his hands placed over my wrist. “Why?”

That one words feels more loaded than the entire ordeal of actually getting a tattoo. “It was my mum’s. She died. My father literally only came back to tell me that it’s my fault she got cancer - it was God’s punishment for me and my romantic preferences.”

Baz raises his eyebrows at me. I can’t begin to assume what he’s thinking. At first I assumed it was going to be ‘ha, of course you’re queer’, judging by how he was staring at my outfit earlier, but instead he continues with the tattoo, grimacing when I don’t care too much about the pain. It’s not that I like it at all - no, it hurt like a bitch - I just have a very high pain threshold and a very low desire to have people know I’m in pain.

He stops again.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

My eyes are closed to drown out the needle, but I don’t open them to frown at him. “What?”

“I- your mum. They tried to tell me that, too, a bunch of kids I went to school with. They said my mother was killed because 'you’re a fag’ and 'she’d hate you anyway’. Sucked.”

Baz is gay.

Oh.

“Thanks,” I whisper. Almost unrecognised, I add: “And I’m sorry you went through that.”

The needle starts again.

It stops.

“What does the note say?” He asks. “The one with the drawing. What does it say?”

I hesitate. No one else has seen it before Baz, on my lunch break, and even then he didn’t read it. As far as everyone else is concerned, my mother and I never spoke within her last few months. This isn’t true. She’d send me flowers from my own store with little notes exactly like these, and I’d call her every night when she was alone. Supporting her queer son was not something she was allowed to do in front of family members. Despite my personal attachment to it, I pull the note out anyway, still perfectly folded in my wallet, and hold it out for Baz. The ink on his hands worries me to not let him take it, but he reads it from his seat.

Simon,

I love you!! Hoping to see you this Summer, very much miss seeing you around. Hope you’re studying hard, my rosebud boy :)

Love Mum xxx

“Oh,” he whispers.

“She died three days later.”

Oh.

I will not cry in front of Baz. No, I will not. I have done all my crying, I have seen every detail and kept ever perspective on this ordeal. I have been blamed, and disowned, and left without family, but this chapter of my life is new. It isn’t one where I’m shaking and crying in a corner like the past few months. Baz sees me getting upset and starts the needle again and continues to work. The pain itches at my arm and leaves an ache running up my arm. I gasp. Baz seems relieved.

He finishes his work and rolls away on his chair, wiping his hands on a stray damp rag. A gauze goes over the ink after a few moments of silent marveling. Baz grins at me, and fusses over me far more than any of his other customers, I’m guessing. Particularly because he does a whole lot of uncensored smiling when I’m looking at him. He seems to be nearly speaking, and then not. It entertains me to press on.

Until I’m paying for the service, he’s quiet and happy. I give him thanks and say goodbye, picking up my sweater and walking out.

Then: “Hey, Simon, wait.”

I swear my blood pulses harder. “Yeah?”

Baz’s hand ghosts over my arm. He’s forward, confident, I’ll give him that on a good turn, but now he’s finding some kind of shyness. “How about you stay with me tonight?” He offers. “You know, so I can look after your ink.”

I turn around, suddenly much closer to Baz than I’d anticipated, knocking my nose against his chin. With a giggle, I ask: “Do you take all of your clients home?”

His lips are scary close to my forehead. (I’m hoping he’ll lean down instead.) “Only the cute ones.”

I bite my lip.

“Go on, then,” I dare. “Which way to your place?”