the moment people have been waiting for!

Our Broken History

I’m still not over WKM, so take a bit of Dark/Wilford angst (sort of? It has a happy end so). You can interpret it as darkstache or just a chat between friends. Personally I wrote it with the idea of a platonic relationship, but it’s all up to you.

The basic premise is that Dark was in a bad mood, Wilford pried too much, Dark lashed out, and now they’re in a bit of a scuffle.

Inspired by @justwritingscibbles, @twenty-third-boos, and @reverseblackholeofwords

“Leave me be, Wilford.”

“No! You’re not running away from this again!” Wilford shouted angrily. “I’m sick and tired of you insulting me like I’m some sort of emotional punching bag for you to abuse! I don’t get it! What did I do to make you hate me so much?

Dark refused to say anything in return, only turning away from the other ego to return to his piano.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, Dark!” Wilford said, grabbing him by the shoulder. The minute he made contact, Dark’s figure exploded into an array of blues and reds, the force causing Wilford to be pushed to the floor.

"DON’T TOUCH ME!” Dark bellowed furiously, spinning around to face the collapsed ego.

A high-pitched ringing engulfed the room, the sound being the loudest Wilford has ever heard it. The entire world began to shake and shift along with Dark, with all of the items in the room taking on a blue and red tint like him. It was as if reality itself was bending under the weight of his fury.

Wilford looked up at Dark in surprise as he towered over him.

“You want to know why I hate you so much, Warfstache?” he said, spitting out the ego’s last name.  His aura closed in tightly on Wilford, causing said ego to press the sides of his head in pain.

“You’re the embodiment of chaos. Your very existence brings about the demise of everyone you meet, and yet you act cheery as if nothing is wrong with what you do. I know that I deceive, but I do so with a purpose. You have no conscience. No reason. You choose to hurt and kill simply for the fun of it all, oblivious to the pain that you cause others. It disgusts me.”

Wilford was speechless, grimacing at Dark as his outburst continues.

“All you do is make a mess wherever you go. You’re even doing it now.” Dark gestures to the room and then to himself.

“Look what you did to this place, to me. We’re broken, Wilford. Distorted. Nothing but shells of another life that could have been long and fulfilling. If not for you we could have been greater beings, greater people, not having to resort to the attention of children to keep us alive.”

Dark’s figure cracked and split, showing the figures of a man and woman behind him. One was screaming, one was crying. Wilford felt a long forgotten pang of guilt in his chest.

This is why I hate you, Wilford, and this is why I will always hate you.” The two figures retreated back into Dark’s shell. He gave Wilford a vengeful stare.

“Now for the last time, leave me be, Colonel!”

Wilford was stunned into silence, the world having ceased to exist around him as Dark’s words rang in his ears. Dark’s expression wavered as he realized his mistake.

The ringing and 3D effects slowly began to disappear, the room reverting back to its previous state as Dark’s aura receded into himself. His eyes began to flicker with emotions that he couldn’t control. Sadness. Confusion. Bitterness. Nostalgia. Everything came rushing towards him in that one instance. When his eyes came into contact with Wilford’s, his anger all but subsided.

Wilford looked completely heartbroken. There were no tears. No sound. Just the sorrowful expression of a man that was just as broken and lost as he was.

Dark went still, feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion wash over him. He sighed, placing a hand on the side of his head.

“Will…” he breathed in defeat. “I meant, Wilford.” Dark swept a hand through his hair and turned around, walking towards his piano bench. He collapsed onto it and folded his hands in front of his mouth.

Wilford, still sitting shell-shocked on the floor, watched him walk away with a just as defeated look on his face. He did nothing for a while, content with just sitting there as his brain rattled with all sorts of forgotten thoughts and emotions. He hadn’t even realized the room was back to normal.

Suddenly, he forced out a chuckle, letting his hair fall over his eyes. What did they do to deserve this?

As upset as he was, he couldn’t hold this against Dark. Not really. After all neither of them were to blame for their circumstances. They were just the result of another’s jealousy and vengeance, caught up in a series of unfortunate events that led them to where they were now. As much as the two may pretend to hate each other, deep down they both knew their past feelings couldn’t be so easily be erased. They still cared for each other, even if the feeling was slightly more broken and distorted than it was then.

Pushing himself from the floor, Wilford stuck his hands in his pockets and made his way over to the sulking ego, taking a seat beside him on the bench. The two sat in an awkward silence, unsure of what to say to each other after that display.

With nothing else left to do, Wilford timidly wrapped his arms around Dark’s shoulders, watching him cautiously as he waited for him to protest. When the other made no effort to push him away, Wilford rested his head on his shoulder, allowing himself to relax into Dark’s cold, yet comforting, body. Ever so slightly, he felt the other ego relax as well.

“We’re not the people we once were,” Wilford said quietly, finally breaking the silence. Though with how empty the air was his voice might as well have been a shout. “We never will be. Not anymore, anyways. Not with how we are now.”

He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in.

“But that doesn’t mean we have to hate each other. As much as we may pretend to we both know that we couldn’t even if we tried.” He felt Dark’s shoulders tense up at his last statement, but he wasn’t worried. He knew that Dark knew that he was right. He continued.

“All we can do now is accept who we are and what we have. It’s not much, but it’s something. Plus it’s not just the two of us anymore.” He chuckled, letting a small smile slip at the thought of the other egos. “And you know what? Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.” He squeezed Dark tighter.

“Yeah, maybe it’s not so bad.”

His expression shifted to a serious one. “It’s hard to move on when we’re both still living in the past, and I doubt it’ll get easier any time soon. We’ll slip up even more the further we try to progress, but still. We can do it. We can get through this…together. As long as you’re willing to try.”

Glancing to the side, he muttered ever so softly, “For both of us.”

Dark continued to stay silent, having seemingly gone still in Wilford’s arms. He said nothing for a long while. Wilford tried not to be upset at his lack of a response, but he knew that this wasn’t easy for Dark. Hell, it wasn’t easy for him, but he couldn’t help the sinking feeling he felt in his chest amidst the silence.

Just as he was about to pull away though, Wilford felt a cold hand grab his arm. He froze.

It was light, almost nonexistent even, but it was there, holding onto him with a message that said he heard him. And that he understood.

After another painstaking moment of silence, Dark whispered, “We can try.”

Ever so slowly he let his head fall on top of Wilford’s, tightening his hold on the other’s arm. With that gesture alone, Wilford allowed himself to hope. Not to rekindle their past, but to move towards a future where the both of them finally found the peace that they deserved. They would get through this together. For as long as it took.

Nothing was going to magically fix itself over night, but in this one blissful moment, with both wrapped in each other’s comforting embrace, they knew it was a start.

And for Dark and Wilford, a start was good enough.

I was asked today about my hate of hospitals, did something happen or is it just general. After reflecting I have to say a bit of both.

I’ve spent a great deal of time in hospitals. As a young child my mom was a nurse, a single parent, an independent product of seventies liberation. She couldn’t afford a sitter, so she took me to work.

I can sleep in any waiting room. I’ve seen people in honest and fearful moments. I’ve experienced the bond of coworkers in heinous conditions, on the outside looking in. Been a mascot of sorts. ER rotations, not a place for a six year old.

I’ve also spent a fair deal of time on the patient side, a little drowned rat with phnemonia. Broken bones, organs that needed yanking. That thing we don’t talk about. Then there was the alcohol poisoning. I am happy to report I was always a model patient.

Later, a bit more grown, it was the dread of having to deal with my mom in the hospital. Accidental overdose, another suicide attempt. Please may the blood be on linoleum not carpet. Sorry dear no shoe laces here. When she wanted to live she couldn’t breathe.

The last time I saw my mom it was in a hospital bed. I was pregnant. She was happy. In my secret heart of hearts I wish this was the last time I saw my father.

Be careful what you wish for, that’s true. This might of been the last time I saw the glimmer of him. The landslide might of buried what was left.

I’m sorry I was busy ugly crying, spinning my wheels, I want to go to sleep and I said no to hearing your breath.

We Can Make It 3

This just in folks. I had posted this last night but the wifi connection is not cooperating so here I am reposting the part three.

Well here it is people the moment weve all been waiting for. I actually cried while writing this so yeah.

Hope ya guys like it.

Thanks for reading and I hope you like it.

Tom went to Children’s hospital Los Angeles in his spiderman costume along with Jacob, and his other castfriends. He enjoyed making kids happy. There was one kid that said that he liked Batman V.S Superman.

Unknown to him was that he will have very fated meeting.

After your recruitment to Boston’s Law Firms. Two years later, you decided to live in Los Angeles with you mom and daughter because you had a client there that offered you a house as a gift for winning her case and she was proven innocent.

“ Mom!! ” Thalia called to you as she entered the house with your mom. She was now 5 years old and going to preschool.

“ Oh my baby spiderling is home!! ” you cooed as you stood up from the couch and grabbed in a embrace.

“ Aww! Did you miss your mommy?! ” you asked as you carried her. You spun to your mom and hugged her as you closed the door for her and guided her to the couch. “ It was awesome mom! My Miss Pea gave me 10 chips at class. She let me have the spider man chips!! Lookie lookie!!” she said. She asked your mom for her bag that she gave to her quickly.

“ Thats amazing sweet heart. How was she mom? ” you asked and turned to your mom.

“ Oh sweet heart, you should have seen her in class. She was acing everything and she even sang infront of class. Right Thalia?!” she replied. The little girl nodded eagerly as she pulled out a spiderman note book from her spiderman bag and began to flip it to some pages. She begged you to buy her a spiderman bag after watching the Spider-Man Homecoming movie. It was funny that you stood at the cashier with her hugging the bag as her eyes sparkled.

“ Here! I got 4 from my oral recitation in math, 3 from english, two from my Arts and Music and The Big One is from my singing!! ” she said as she shove the open notebook and on the pages were Spiderman chips glue on it. You can’t help but smile. You looked at her eyes.

’ so talented, like her father. ’ You mumbled. Your mom heard it and caressed your back making you look at her with a sad smile.

“ Oh, Thalia didn’t you say you wanna Visit Joseph at the Hospital today?!” your mom said making the little girl distracted. “ Oh!! Yes! Mommy can We go!?! Please please!” your daughter begged and had her eyes clasped together and looked at you.

Her eyes reminded you of him so much that it almost wanna cry. But you held it in.

“ Oh alright. You deserve a treat my little Spiderling. Now go on get dressed. I think your aunt Jenny is with him today we can go say Hi. ” you said as your daughter squeeled and head to her room leaving you and your mom.

“ He should have seen her right now. She is so much like him. Thats why I Love her. ” you said as you mom gave you a side hug. “ I am so proud of You, Y/n. And I think he would love her. Tom’s mom would love to see her officially. She’s been bugging me to send her more picture. ” your mom joked as you laughed. Tom’s mom helped you pay the hospital bill.

“ He will Love her mom. * sigh * enough Drama. Lets eat outside I wanna treat Thalia. Elle hasn’t called yet. So there is no work for now. Get dressed mom. I wanna treat you too. ” you said as you pulled you mom up and pushed her to her room as you went to yours.

Tom traveled to each and every room. Visiting every child at the hospital with Jacob and the others. “ That Felt good guys. ” he said. “ Couldn’t agree more. ” Harrison replied as they head out for more kids out.

“ O SWEET MOTHER OF MONKEY MILK!! ” someone screamed. The group spun to see a girl in a Spiderman shirt and a Boy in a hospital gown. Tom knew the other because he visited him moments ago.

“ Its Spiderman!! Josephyy its Spiderman!!!” the girl squealed. Tom couldn’t help but smile. The little girl’s features reminded him of You except for the eyes.

“ hey Joseph. Is this a friend of yours? ” he asked as he knelt at the two. The boy nodded as his friend just hugged Tom. Jacob, Zendaya and Harrison and the others find it adorable. “ Its You!! OMG! Mom will be thrilled to see you!! ” the girl said. Tom smiled at the girl’s rambunctiousness.

“ Thalia! Joseph! Where are dears?!” an old lady called across them.

“ Grammy!!!! Look its Spider-man! ” the girl said as Tom looked at the lady. His eyes widen at the familiarity of the lady.

“ Mrs. L/n? ” he said as he stood up. The lady froze. Shocked to see the man before her. “ T-tom! ” she said. The girl looked at him and the lady. “ You know my granma!? Cool! Did Iron Man search for her and told you?!!” the girl asked making the two adults turn to her.

“ Oh, uh yeah. How have you been, Mrs. L/n? ” Tom asked out. The lady just smiled and replied that she was fine.

“ Oh Thalia dear. Joseph’s mom is looking for him. Time to go back. ” Mrs. L/n said as the girl called Thalia as Tom Heard nodded a yes. But she spun to him.

“ Can I take a picture with him first Grammy!?” she requested as the lady nodded and pulled out her camera. Tom wanted to ask what was your mom’s connection to the little girl and where were you?

You walked out of your stall and stood before the mirror’s of the rest room.

“ Y/n? O my god is that you?!” you heard some one said as you saw who it was. It was Zendaya. “ O my! Zen how are you? ” you smiled as she hugged you. You broke away from each other.

“ Oh Y/n where have you been? Tom has been worried sick for you. What happened?” she asked. You told her that you got pregnant and you didn’t want to be a burden. She was so happy and amazed at how you manage to finish Harvard. You didn’t have any contact through social media for the past years. You never really noticed. You separated as you left the restroom.

The hospital thanked Tom and the other casts for visiting. They were making their way out of the hospital. He was busy talking to the hospiatal owner until he heard a familiar name come out from Jacob’s voice.

“ hey guys! Look its Y/n! ” he said.

Tom spun immidiately to where his friend was pointing.

And there you were. Standing by the entrance talking to a middle aged woman. Beside you was your mom holding Thalia.

“ Thank you for visiting Y/n. Its nice to have Thalia visit Joseph. I gotta tell you I think your daughter is my son’s only friend. You let her visit him very often. ” Jenny, a friend that you met at Harvard. You smiled and told her it was nothing.

“ Mommy! Look its spider-man!!! Look!!” you heard your daughter call. She was pointing at something so you spun to see what it was.

“ Where sweethear- ” your voice disappeared as your eyes met the familiar color of brown.

Tom stood frozen as you looked back at him. Your eyes watered at the sight of him. You looked at your mom who gave you a warm smile as she held your daughter. Tom looked at his friends who whispered to him to go to you.

“ You found her bro. ”

“ Go get her Holland! ”

He can’t help but smile and he spun back to look at you as you looked back at him.

He began to walk forward and so did you.

Then you began to run, and so did he. With a teary eyed smiled plastered on your face.

Your body collided to his as Tom held you in a tight embrace. You felt how he missed you so much.

“ Oh Y/n. ” he cried as his tear fell from his eyes as he smiled at you and held your face in his hand. You smiled back and kissed his left hand as you held them.

“ Why did you leave me? ” he asked.

You had to tell him now.

“ I’m so sorry Tom. I was pregnant Tom. And when you said you weren’t ready to commit I thought it would burden you. So I left. You were rising Tom. You got so many oppotunities. Look at you now! Your Spiderman!” you said as Tom laughed as his tears continued to fall and his hands held you close.

“ And I didn’t want to burden you. If I didn’t leave then you wouldn’t be this successful. I Love you so much that I would do everything for you. So much that I would die for you Tom. ” you finished. Tom couldn’t help but cry as he hugged you again.

“ You did that for me Love? How did I deserve such a girl like you? I Love you so much. ” he said as he buried his face in your neck. He broke away and looked at you.

“ I’ll Love You forever. And I never stopped cause I know one day you’ll comeback when you are okay. And my Prayers are now answered and here you are. Your still beautiful to me inside and out, Love. ” he said. You smiled as you looked at his brown orbs. Oh how much you missed them.

“ I missed you so much that I could kiss you right now.” he said as he dove down to your lips catching you in a kiss.

Tom’s friend clapped and your mom smiled. Your daughter looked at her. “ Granny why is Mom kissing mommy?” she asked innocently. You mom shrugged playfully as your daughter pouted.

Tom broke the kiss that he didn’t actually wanted but he had to let you breath. You looked at him and smiled.

“ I Love you to Tom. And I never didn stop loving you.” you said as Tom smiled and kissed you again but pulled away soon and kissed your forehead.

His eyes landing on Thalia who was now standing beside your mom. You saw him looking at her and you smiled. You spun to Thalia and signalled her to come to you. The girl ran up to you and knelt infront of her.

“ Sweet heart. You always asked me who your daddy was. And you told me that you would love to see him dress up in a spider-man suit. ” you said as your daughter nodded.

You looked at Tom who now knelt beside you and Thalia looked at her as her eyes watered and a smiled crawled up her lips.

“ Are you-” she asked as Tom cut her off and said Yes and began to caress her head. Without a matter of seconds she grabbed him into a tight embrace. Tom could feel his daughter sob in happiness. He hugged her as you smiled. He looked at you.

He was a father. And it felt the best thing that ever happen. You just made him the happiest that ever existed. He leaned his forehead and rested it on yours as his eyes closed. All he could feel was pure happiness. He never felt so complete.

“ So is my Mom you Mary Jane?!! ” Thalia shot up. Tom just smiled as you giggled.

You Both Made It.

The End.

The people who covered up Moonlight’s win by talking about how gracefully the producer’s of La La Land handled the situation need to find a new way to express their casual racism because that moment was not. graceful. 

Almost every moment of that awkward scene was a huge slap to the face, a huge display of disrespect to the cast and crew of Moonlight, who put their heart and souls into their movie only to have their moment stolen from them. And I do mean stolen in the strongest sense of the world. That shit was stolen, on purpose. 

From the very moment that man opened the envelope he knew something was wrong. He knew there was a mistake. He knew he shouldn’t have gone forward, but that woman saw La La Land and never questioned it because obvious and said the name anyway. That was the first hit. 

Then they let the cast and crew come on stage, knowing it was wrong, knowing there was a mistake, knowing the further they let this go the more detrimental it would become. Second hit. 

Jordan Horowitz didn’t know they had lost. He gave his speech as planned and passed the mic along. But halfway through Marc Platt’s speech, they were told. You could see it on their faces. They knew, but didn’t stop him, didn’t say hey this isn’t for us, hey this wasn’t ours. They let him go, they let him have his moment, a moment that wasn’t his. They kept the light from Moonlight so Marc Platt could shine. Third hit. 

Then, the shit they really can’t be forgiven for happened. They let Berger speak. By this time they all knew Moonlight won. They all knew the award wasn’t theirs. But they gave the award to Berger ANYWAY and let him speak ANYWAY. They stole that moment. They knew it wasn’t there’s but decided they’d speak because they had that spotlight anyways. Berger didn’t even tell the audience what he already knew, that they had lost, until after he saw someone come to do it for him.And when he did, he didn’t give the glory to Moonlight, he didn’t say their name or congrats, he just said “We lost, by the way” and prepared to leave the stage with his award. Had Horowitz not stopped all of them and said “No, wait, Moonlight won” that’s what they would have done. They would have taken that moment and run away with it.

Moonlight’s win will forever be overshadowed by this moment, by what the producera did not say when they needed to say it. Grace would have been to tell the truth immediately. Grace would have been to let the audience know the rightful winner. But the producer’s of La La Land tried to give their speeches and leave. That’s not grace, and ya’ll need to stop applauding white people for doing the bare fucking minimum.

Hey everyone, so if you don’t know what’s going on: yesterday, footage from Marvel’s Black Panther was released showing the romantic f/f relationship between Okoye/Ayo, characters from the comics the movie will be using as inspiration for the story. 


Of course, many fans were overjoyed to hear this, as we have been waiting for lgbt+ representation in MCU for a long time. However, Marvel has since retracted this, and released a statement saying that the relationship between these two women will not be depicted romantically:

This is more than disappointing to many, many people. We were teased with the possibility of representation, only to have it taken away from us. It’s long past the time for Marvel to step up and start telling more diverse stories, and we are tired of waiting. 

What can you do to help? Please, please, spare a moment to reach out to Marvel, their producers, representatives, etc etc, on twitter, using the hashtag #LetAyoHaveAGirlfriend. Social media is such an amazing tool and we can use it to make our voices be heard, and maybe make a change. I think it’s really important for us to try. 

Please take a moment to signal boost this post as well… the more awareness spread the better! It would mean the world to myself and so many Marvel fans if we were to have a canon, lgbt female character in the MCU.

After some thinking, I want to politely point out a few things to those of you saying Touka and Kaneki’s sex scene was rushed and meaningless.

Did kaneki and touka rush into having sex? Yes. But that’s entirely the point - in no way does that make it meaningless or perverted.

Kaneki and Touka have seen all of this happen before. Their hideout has been found. Their faces have been unmasked. Kaneki is the most wanted ghoul in Japan, and this is pretty much the beginnings of war for them. People are going to die. And they both know it can be either one of them at any time. Neither of them were going to wait for the “perfect moment, ” not when there’s a good chance that neither of them will live to see it.

What you’ve got to remember is that people don’t always make the best decisions when it comes to sex. More often than not, people get caught up in the moment and do it before they should do. This rushed nature is actually quite realistic. Even with Yorirko’s life hanging, Touka is keeping cool because she knows jumping to conclusions and being rash will do no good - she’s seen this before with Hinami’s mother.

Touka has experienced enough loss to know that she has to live for the living, and do whatever she can to keep those people alive. Sure, she’ll fight to protect kaneki, but that isn’t always what it’s about; with kaneki being suicidal in the past, she’s trying her best to give him an incentive to live. She’s letting Kaneki know that he’s loved even though she struggles to express anything other than her primal emotions. Kaneki needs to know that he’s loved right now. If there was anything more about Hide right now, it would be a bad turn for kaneki since he’d be living for the dead. It’s so important that he learns other people than Hide care for him that I’m shocked that people actually want Hide related stuff instead of this. Even though Touken wasn’t my favourite ship, I’m so happy because this is such an important hurdle for Kaneki’s character being overcome.

So yes, they rushed into having sex. However, I honestly feel this was a perfectly natural action for two broken people under pressure. They weren’t going to wait when there is a good chance there wasn’t going to be any other time for them. They both wanted to do it. Even if this is a sort of humorous thing to add remember they were virgins in their twenties as well; touka has done enough waiting on Kaneki, haha.

Please stop saying that their relationship is meaningless compared to his and Hide’s because it just isn’t true. The only other time Kaneki cried during a happy time was their first visit to :Re when he was so relieved to see Touka alive and he thought about what a beautiful person she was. After this, Haise gazed at her the same way Kaneki gazed at Rize - which Kaneki didn’t deny. If this doesn’t show how much Kaneki loves touka then I don’t know what will.

I’m honestly so proud of Touka for being so bold and collected here. She’s developed in so many ways. Sometimes, when written well, sex can really bond characters in books. While it remains to be seen, I’m really excited to see their relationship change and, hopefully, kaneki opening up to her by learning that people other than Hide love him. This is a good turn of events for both of them.


Destiel AU: Dean Winchester leaves Lawrence on a whim to go to visit his childhood best friend, Castiel Novak, at Stanford. He breaks in, intending to make this a surprise visit. but things don’t quite go as planned when Castiel initially mistakes him for an intruder. [read the ficlet on ao3]

Dean didn’t know what possessed him to get in the Impala and drive across the country. Or maybe he did, but he was too much of a chickenshit to admit it. It certainly hadn’t been an easy trip. Stanford was thousands of miles away from Lawrence. Twenty-six hours of drive-time if you followed the speed limit (which he didn’t). So like it or not, ending up five states away at his best friend’s doorstep at 1am was not something he could brush off as an accident, and that scared him.

It scared him that Cas might look at his presence and know exactly what Dean was scared to say.

It was a good thing he had a lot of practice ignoring his own feelings, because if he’d really let himself appreciate the gravity of what he was doing, he probably wouldn’t have been able to get out of the car. He made his way to the front door, double checking the address on his phone. He could feel his heart rate speeding up in anxious anticipation. He couldn’t believe it had been months since they’d seen each other without the aid of computer screens.

Thinking about the last time he’d seen Cas wasn’t really something he liked to do. He knew he had no one but himself to blame for that day Cas had driven off, his long suffering Pimpmobile full to bursting with clothes and furniture for his new apartment.They’d exchanged goodbyes on the sidewalk. Dean had so many things he wanted to say but he’d swallowed them down so Cas wouldn’t hear the lump that was stuck in his throat.

“I’ll see you at Christmas,” Cas had said, trying to smile at him.

Dean wanted to remind him that he could call anytime he wanted, that they would Facebook message every day, that Dean would be thinking about him…but instead all he’d done was nod solemnly. Cas grinned at him like he understood and opened his arms for a hug.

Dean was usually the one who held back from physical contact but this time he’d surprised himself, pulling Cas in tight, breathing him in for what promised to be the last time in a long time. He’d patted Cas’s back, instead of burying his head against Cas’s shoulder the way he wanted.

After a moment they’d pulled away and Cas had given Dean that look he reserved for the times when he knew Dean wanted to say something but wouldn’t. That look that promised not to judge him, if Dean could only lend himself the same courtesy. But Dean wasn’t that much of a dick. He might have been in love with his best friend, and sure, he might not have admitted it to himself until the worst possible moment, but he certainly wasn’t going to ruin this day for Cas. His friend had a long day of driving ahead of him today, and yet another one tomorrow. He didn’t need to spend it thinking about how Dean was a giant cry baby who didn’t want him to leave. Cas had great opportunities waiting for him at Stanford, with even greater people, of this Dean was sure.

So after they’d said their goodbyes, as Cas was getting into his car, Dean had dropped his hand on Cas’s shoulder. For a moment he searched for the right words that would encompass everything he wanted to tell him.

That Cas was the best friend he’d ever had. That Dean was proud of him. That he was loved. There was nothing that could quite do the job, or at least nothing he could let himself say. But Cas was looking up at him with those big guileless blue eyes and Dean had to say something.

“Don’t ever change,” Dean told him, annoyed by the way his voice grew rough with emotion.

He’d thought about that moment a million times in the months that followed, going over it again and again and wishing he’d done it differently. But now was not the time to dwell on the past, now was the time to remember everything he’d ever read about picking locks.

Keep reading


Vegas | Tease | Oops | D | Game | Mistake

Series: Vegas

Note: The moment you all have been waiting for… Hold onto your caps, people, because this one is a roller coaster.

Word Count: 3586

Warnings: Language, angst…no smut in this one, guys. 😳

Tagging:  @gwash4prez @jazy2015 @alexanderhamllton @this-ally-loves-you @duckoffury @hamrevolution @curiositykilledthecompanion @thegirlonhamilton @shinymarbles @legattoassassino @nadialinett14 @an-abundance-of-hannahs @someonesblogger @the-ashy-phoenix @hamiltrashinn @texasprincess3 @patchesthed00t @teenage-band-loser @hetafairyaot @hmltntrsh51 @kkoolaid1 @londonbridgefalling @ashthewinchestergirl @aquamarrineee @pearltheartist @bluesnowyangel @sitdownjohn-youfatmotherfucker @edge-oftonight @vishuddhakid @kink-george @loopietoopie @hamil-scribbles @iamgrayfox @zaire-is-worth-it @hamiltonwasbienough @butter-times @lilybutterworthstuff @velvetsirius @fandom-nerdness7 @snoozing-hippogriffs-23 @agent-fangirl @traash-canz @meand-mybrain @jadee-ee @oshlow @me—lancholy @ridiculousn3ssfangirl @pearltheartist @bluesnowyangel @finnydraws @secretary-thomas-jefferson @completehamiltrash @clamilton @for-god-sake-john-sit-down @manateegrl @meavenel @hamilsquadsrighthandman @seungcheoljpg @hell-yes-puns-and-ships @i-am-trash1828 @helplessly-hamiltrash @haletotheking24 @bootybiersack @thoughtfulbearpanda @5vibesofsummer @completehamiltrash @canadianfruitpunch @faatlouie @accidentally-impeccable @ask-sherlock-221b @missgallaxy @nonxstop @emilysyrup @erinlikestrains @basheverythingyesterday @yukiyoru @duckslier3 @sweetestjensener @pearltheartist

You knew you’d fucked up.

The second those words flew out of your mouth, your eyes shot open and your breath caught in your throat. You were quickly shaken from the spell Daveed had placed you under, and as reality settled in, you began to panic.

Without delay, you pushed Daveed off you and clambered off the bed. He was silent and you didn’t know if it was because he was in shock or because he was still coming down from his high, but either way, you knew you had to get out of there before he started speaking.

You were pulling your jeans on hastily when you finally spoke up. “I uh…I-I gotta go.” You said, trying to hide the fact that you were on the verge of tears. “It’s really late and I think I forgot to do something back home.”

“Y/N…” Daveed breathed softly, pushing himself up on his elbows to look at you.

Keep reading

i’m sure this has been done. but. eh.

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” Neil says.

Andrew looks away from the road to Neil, and then back again.

“They’re not,” Neil attempts.

The only reason Neil finally agreed to go to the dentist was because of the threat of being benched by the coaches. Not because the pain has been affecting his playing - of course it hasn’t - but because everyone on the team is sick of him holding and rotating his jaw all the time, obviously in pain but completely unwilling to admit it.

“You do as the doctors say now,” Andrew says, a reminder of an old agreement made back when Neil first went pro. Neil’s innate distrust in people wasn’t ever going to be a good enough reason for him to be stupid in regards to medical care when he was out of Abby’s hands. Andrew would like to think that now they’re on the same team he would have slightly more sway over Neil, but that’s never really been the case.

“He’s not a doctor.” The level of scorn in Neil’s voice is truly impressive. 

“Medical professional, then.” Andrew imagines the look on the dentist’s face as hearing Neil’s real opinion of him.

“Lots of people keep their wisdom teeth,” Neil says. “You still have yours.”

Andrew’s aren’t growing sideways out of his skull and threatening to crowd all his other teeth together. The term the dentist had used for Neil’s was ‘severely impacted’. He’d referred Neil to a maxillofacial surgeon and said that Neil would be lucky if they could be removed under sedation rather than a general anaesthetic. 

“I know,” Andrew says, rather than attempting a logical argument. There’s really no point.


“I know, it’s hard to believe that my mouth really is bigger than yours,” Andrew says.

The threat of benching works well enough to get Neil to the surgeon, which is unsurprising to anyone who actually knows Neil. He’s calm and unafraid all day, except for the piercing look he gives Andrew in the moments before he’s ushered away.

“There’s a quiet waiting room just through here,” someone says, indicating a door. “You would be amazed how ill people have to be before they stop considering asking for an autograph.”

It’s been a while since anyone over the age of about sixteen asked Andrew for an autograph - the older ones got the idea eventually - but the offer of a quiet place to not be stared at isn’t anything to be sniffed at. Andrew goes through the door and takes a spot on a chair next to the window with a clear view of the door.

His fingers itch for a cigarette. He reaches for his phone instead.

Social media isn’t of much interest to him, so he spends a good half-hour reading news articles spiralling into scientific studies and then into the rabbit hole of wikipedia. He’s not sure quite how long it’s been when a knock at the door interrupts him from the page he’s reading on Indian mathematics.

Someone in scrubs puts her head through the door. “Mister Minyard? Neil is in recovery now. You can come sit with him.”

Andrew stands and follows her quick bustle of a walk, putting his phone in his pocket as he goes. The nurse is chatting as speedily as she walks. “Once he’s more awake and we know for sure he’s feeling himself he can be discharged. He’s a little quiet right now, but he asked for you before.”

She ushers him into a private room - another perk of being professional athletes - with a smile. 

Neil is lying on his back on the bed with his eyes closed, but he opens them when he hears Andrew sitting in the chair at his side. He looks a little like a chipmunk with the gauze stuffed in his cheeks, his jaw swollen enough that it’s grotesquely square rather than its usual fine-angled shape.

“Hey,” Andrew says.

He’s not necessarily expecting chattiness, but he is expecting an answer. Instead Neil just stares at him. His eyes are very large, as are his pupils.

“Hi,” he says eventually. He sounds exactly like he’s talking through a mouthful of cotton. The nurse comes in and fiddles with the blood pressure cuff on his arm, and Neil rolls his head around to watch her doing it.

“I’m just going to squash your arm again, okay?” she says, with the manner of someone talking to a child or an adult who is exceptionally out of their mind on drugs.

Neil doesn’t say anything for a moment, and then comes out with, “This is Andrew.”

The nurse flicks Andrew a look and a small smile. “We met, actually. He was waiting outside for you.”

“He’ll always wait for me,” Neil tells her, matter-of-fact. “He’s my partner.”

The nurse’s expression doesn’t change much, but it’s only through power of will, Andrew suspects. She looks like she would love to laugh. “That’s really nice of him.”

“Yeah,” Neil sighs warmly. He’s pathetic. 

“I would have recognised him anyway,” the nurse says, still looking amused. “I’m a Rebels fan.”

Neil, who is the biggest Rebels fan in the city, does something that might have been a half-smile if it weren’t for the current state of his face. Then it falls off. Mournfully, he says, “I can’t play this week.”

“No, but you’ll be back out there before you know it,” the nurse comforts. Her name tag says ‘Helen’ and has a yellow flower on it. “Are you playing, Andrew?”

“He’s the starting goalie,” Neil says before Andrew can say anything, almost making it to sounding affronted. Mostly he just sounds loopy. Andrew has never seen him have so many emotional shifts in thirty seconds before.

“I thought he might be stuck looking after you,” Helen replies. “I know what athletes are like.”

“I can look after myself.” That’s a very Neil answer, and also a complete lie. Andrew is banking on Neil being too miserable to want to come to the game in two days, because otherwise he’ll be on the bench in all his swollen-faced glory.

“I’m sure you can,” Helen says, and pats him on the shoulder condescendingly. Neil doesn’t notice at all. “I’ll come back in fifteen minutes and see how you’re doing.”

She bustles back out again, closing the door behind her gently. Neil sighs and rolls onto his side, muttering something indecipherable when the blood pressure cuff gets pulled tight under his body. It doesn’t sound pleased, and it’s definitely not in any language Andrew recognises.

Neil raises his unrestrained hand towards Andrew. It swerves a little in the air. “Can I?”

“Yes,” Andrew says. He’s expecting Neil to take his hand, but he doesn’t flinch when Neil reaches for his face instead. What he currently lacks in coordination he makes up for in gentleness, but Andrew closes his eyes anyway to lower the risk of losing one to a poorly-aimed finger.

“You look weird,” Neil mutters.

You look weird,” Andrew tells him, mostly because it’s true, partly to see Neil wrinkle his nose at him.

“Do not,” Neil replies. He pats Andrew’s cheek, and then gets distracted by Andrew’s hair. That’s not unusual, to be fair, though the level of concentration he’s giving it is. “Hey.”


“Hey.” More insistently this time, like he doesn’t already have Andrew’s full attention. He tugs Andrew’s hair. 

Never let it be said Andrew can’t take a hint. He lowers himself onto his elbows on the edge of the bed and puts his forehead to Neil’s. Even though they’re at odd angles, Neil sighs in satisfaction. His eyelashes flutter against Andrew’s temple, fingers stroking idly over the arch of Andrew’s ear.

“Good,” he mutters, seemingly to himself.

They stay like that, Andrew’s chin pillowed on the starchy sheets and his forehead likely leaving an imprint on Neil’s fairer skin. Neil dozes, hand going lax, and Andrew closes his eyes and thinks in circles for a little while about the Bakhshali Manuscript.

Another knock at the door makes him raise his head. Neil’s eyes flash open, and then he blinks like he’s reeling a little. His fingers have fallen to Andrew’s wrist, and they tighten for a split-second before dropping away.

“Hi again,” Helen says gently. “Let’s get a look at you, Neil.”

Andrew moves aside and lets her at him, ignoring the disgruntled sound this earns from the bed. Neil is distracted quickly by Helen extracting the arm with the cuff from under his body and taking his blood pressure again, before removing it and making him sit up. Then she leaves, and returns with clothes and a clipboard. The clothes she leaves for Neil to attempt to put on. The clipboard she gives to Andrew.

“Rather than it turning out as a discharge form as signed by Alexander Pushkin,” she explains with a shrug. It’s fine, Andrew is all over Neil’s paperwork these days. He flips through the notes and signs in the right places then hands the board back, and gets a sheet of discharge instructions in its place.

“I’ll leave you guys for a sec and sort things,” she says, and does just that. It leaves Andrew to subtly ensure that Neil puts all his clothes on the right body parts. He’s looking less high but still dazed, his eyes hooded but his face pulling tighter. In the fall down, he’s always uncomfortably aware of the abnormality of being out of control of himself. Years later that hasn’t changed. Andrew isn’t surprised.

“You’re good to go,” Helen tells Neil when she returns, and then says to Andrew, “Good luck!”

He would like to think, as he manoeuvres Neil out, that she means for the game on Friday. It’s not likely, though.

Neil falls asleep against the window on the drive home. Andrew prods him awake so he can walk himself into the elevator, where he sags against the wall, and then into the apartment. He shuffles into the bedroom, still making gentle smooching noises at Sir and King as he winds himself into the duvet. He’s out ten seconds later.

Andrew watches for a moment while King curls up beside him and Sir gently begins to groom his hair, and then retreats to the balcony for a cigarette.

Andrew has relocated inside to the couch by the time he hears stirring from the bedroom a few hours later. The Neil who emerges is rumpled but sleepy in a normal sense rather than because of lingering sedation.

He lowers himself gently onto the cushion beside Andrew, and then even more slowly lowers his head down onto Andrew’s thighs.

“Painkillers?” Andrew offers. The discharge notes included strict instructions on dosage and timing, but Neil’s been asleep long enough to be due another couple of pills.

“In a minute,” Neil mumbles, like he’s trying to move his jaw as little as possible. He pats Andrew on the shin. “Stay.”

In an hour Neil’s going to be pissed off and probably a little anxious, wanting to move but knowing he can’t, irritated by the pain. But for now, it’s pretty easy to read a book and play pillow while Neil rests.

The first time Merle comes back from parley he immediately tries again, which makes sense. He talked to John and didn’t get as much out of the conversation as he’d wanted to, so of course he wants to get right back into it.

The second time he comes back, it’s been a year for everyone else but just a few minutes for him. And he still wants to go right back. The last thing he experienced was talking to John and he still has more to say, so he tries again and dies again, and another year passes for everyone else.

Imagine him coming back a third time. For him, it’s still only been a moment but his friends, his family, they haven’t seen him in two years. He’s been dead for two years, and even if they long ago accepted death as temporary it still has some weight to it.

Imagine how after a short debriefing he shrugs and says “all right, let’s give it another go” and starts to sit down. Imagine like, three people almost involuntarily darting forward and telling him to wait, hang on, I mean, you don’t have to do it right away, do you?

the endless winter

how much longer do I have to wait
how many more nights do I have to stay awake
to see you
to meet you

Summary: Your whole life has been plagued by the sight of gray: cold and lonely and unbearably plain; you thought you were the exception to a system of fate and destiny that brought two people together. That is, until your favorite Kpop group undergoes their first international tour.
Pairing: Jimin | Reader
Genre: Fluff; Idol/Fan AU + Soulmate AU (the one in which colors get brighter and brighter than closer you are and fade into gray when they’re too far)
Word Count: 11,869
Author’s Note: This was an idea I originally had for Hopeless Hearts, but it didn’t feel right in comparison to what Hopeless Hearts has become now. I knew I wanted to write something for Jimin again so this idea came back to me with more details and it just felt… right.

ALSO thank you Katie aka @minsvga for reading my outline and basically letting me talk you through the entire plot and letting me update you whenever I hit different word counts.


You always thought you were broken—a failed outcome of a nearly flawless structure that has bounded and tied two people together since the very creation of human beings. You had heard of those special cases, of people who just saw gray their entire lives no matter how many oceans they covered and no matter how far they traveled, no matter if they searched the deepest corners or sought out the tallest mountains. You’ve heard of people in which distance wasn’t the problem—it was just them. Their existence had been doomed from the moment they were born, to live their life in monotone quality. Quite literally too, in fact. Knowing that there would be no one waiting for them on the other side as they slowly ventured through, never knowing a sunset or a sunrise or the grass—their life like an old film, classic and hazy and left behind.

For the first seventeen years of your life, the thought of just not having a soulmate was something that you didn’t necessarily think too deeply about. Some of your friends were of equal level to you, basking in the gray plaguing your line of sight. Albeit, there were a small handful who caught glimpses of red and yellow and blue, all of which were tinged in gray, during the duration of high school. And then there were an even smaller handful who were immediately gifted with the sight of the rainbow right out of the gate—their soulmates are the ones they end up going to prom with or are in the running for best couple in the yearbook, or other varying degrees of gross shit like that.

At a young age, the idea and concept of a soulmate, the concept of forever, was far too grand and far too wide to understand or grasp entirely. It also just seemed much too gross for you to want to understand. The thought that there was someone out there made just for you? Preposterous.

For the first seventeen years of your life, you didn’t really care. And you knew there were many others like you who shared that same belief system. No one wanted to have to settle down too early.

But none of you understood the true gravity of what it would be like to finally find your soulmate and the sensation of experiencing something you had been deprived of your entire life—henceforth you continued not caring, not knowing what you were missing out on in spite of everyone gushing endlessly about it.

Finding one’s soulmate has always meant to be a personal experience, something that could never be replicated or repeated—for a soulmate is supposed to provide as a ‘one and only’ occurrence; something that people could talk about yet not understand unless one had also uncovered the discovery of what would follow upon meeting a soulmate.  

For the first seventeen years of your life, the art of ignoring those type of conversations shared between parents and girls who thought they were better than anyone else gradually started to become second nature to you. Yes, you could grasp that meeting your soulmate was going to mark a momentous occasion in your life, but was it really that important? You were going to meet him eventually, so what was the point of rushing through everything?

You were going to meet your soulmate eventually.


Keep reading

So, Peter’s replacement will be announced tomorrow. No doubt the fandom fallout will range from wild approval to vehement dislike, and every shade in between.

I’m not going to join the bun fight, because I honestly prefer to wait and see. I have faith that the people involved know and love the show, and will create something true to Doctor Who.

What I am interested in doing is celebrating the perfect storm that has been Peter Capaldi in Doctor Who.

For me, Peter isn’t just an actor who has played an iconic and much-loved role. He’s been the embodiment of all things good about the show. He’s worked incredibly hard to create a performance that comes alive on a punishing schedule.

He’s given us dark moments. I genuinely didn’t know if he would come back for Clara when that door closed between them in Deep Breath. On a level of course I did, but part of me wondered, has he changed that much? Will he really have her back? And when he took Clara’s hand, I cheered and I haven’t stopped cheering since. His performance has been emersive.

The sheer range of emotions the Twelfth Doctor has lived through creates the most character development of any Doctor, in my eyes. He started emotionally tight, bruised after Trenzalore, and he unwound himself with Clara’s help until he was able to ask Bill, finally, “is there anything we should be saying?” and talk about being kind. That moment of emotional honesty broke my heart.

Peter has been more than a great actor and fine Doctor, though. He’s been a wonderful ambassador for the show. He is unrelentingly kind with fans. He knows exactly what it’s like to feel flustered or in awe, to love a show so much and channel it into meeting one person. He gets Doctor Who fans because he is one.

And that’s why I like the phrase Peter is “Doctor Who”. To me, it’s not just a name, although Steven Moffat had some fun with that in World and Time, to me it means Peter is the living embodiment of the show.

Peter has breathed joy into the role. Maybe he won’t be piloting the TARDIS on our screens, but Peter Capaldi will always be the Doctor to me.

I think people are completely missing the point of the lack of klance content.  IF they are going to make klance canon, they aren’t going to let the character development suffer because of that. I don’t think Keith & Lance are ready to be in any form of intimate relationship, not from where they are. Even if they were, it’s not with each other at this moment. 

Keith has his own shit to deal with, his own struggles, and his own worth to define.  Keith needs to find himself, to find his own value in fighting against the Galra empire. Right now, it’s not with Voltron. And when Shiro finally gave the support, like he should have been doing the entire time rather than wait until he could pilot the black lion, is when Keith started his journey. It didn’t start when he joined the bom, it didn’t start when he became “leader of Voltron”, it was when people allowed him to do things on his own terms without having him feel guilty about it. But the thing is, it doesn’t stop there. There is something a lot of people don’t understand that self sacrifice is more than just “this will help the cause”, there is a deeper psychological importance to this, and everyone is so caught up on where the klance content is that you lack the ability to recognize Keith is going through some shit. 

If you’ve noticed when Lance was bummed out Keith had to go, but he didn’t make a big deal out of it like Allura or Shiro had, because I promise you , Lance is more intuitive than we think he is. And this is coming a long way from how he responded to Keith in season one. Lance is growing in his own way. 

Regardless if klance becomes canon or not, show some respect to personal development these characters are showing. They’re doing amazing, and a season isn’t bad because you didn’t get the ship content you were hoping for. 

So. That moment in His Last Vow that was reversed for the viewers. You know, that 5 second clip of Sherlock “coming out” of his mind palace while in hospital. The heart-rate monitors go backwards. There’s no reason to explain it other than they filmed Sherlock going into his mind palace, then reversed it for the actual episode MERE MOMENTS after making a big deal of the question “Forwards or Backwards”. But WHY would they DO that? Why make Sherlock LOOK like he’s waking up, but in reality manipulate the way the footage is shown, making the viewer believe the opposite of what’s actually happening? It’s not like what’s been happening after that moment is hard to believe or anything and they have to trick people into believing it’s real. Wait a second. Actually *everything* that’s happened since that moment is hard to believe. And it gets worse and worse each episode you go from there. TAB ends in the mind palace and HLV ends in the exact same style. TFP is the television equivalent of a mental breakdown. If there was only one week between episodes of this damn TV show, this kind of rug-pull set up wouldn’t be even slightly weird to consider. That backwards clip of Sherlock actually going into his mind palace in HLV instead of coming out of it is the only clue we have to solving why, literally-speaking, nothing makes sense in this damn show anymore. If the writers don’t follow through on their own idea, that’s on them. But their favorite kind of scenario has been beautifully set up. One of those “I told you, but you didn’t listen” scenarios. The backwards clip in episode 9 is their receipt. I fully expect them to say, “Look at what we did, we had it right there in front of you all for years and nobody cared” when this is all done. Anything less makes no sense. “We told you everything was backwards, we told you everything was mind palace, but nobody listened.” There is absolutely *no* other reason for filming a scene and editing it in backwards for the final version. Anything else is madness.

The Fitting (Part 13)

(Secrets are getting harder to keep and Jungkook’s jealousy and insecurity are taking a toll on him.) 

Warnings:  9500+ words.  Oral. Intercourse.  A little more realism than I think some people will be expecting.  

You didn’t want him.  At least not tonight.

 That thought rattled through Jungkook’s mind as he sat in the back of the taxi on his way home.  You had refused him because you wanted to be alone.  Because you weren’t in the mood.  Jungkook closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the seat while he tried to process what had just happened.  You had refused him before, when you were worried about being caught by others at work, but you always made arrangements to sleep with him later.  Tonight was different.  Tonight you refused him, not because you were afraid of being seen, but because you simply didn’t want him.

 It wasn’t supposed to be this way.  Jungkook had planned this first date so carefully, making sure to take you to an out of the way neighborhood so you could relax and not worry about being seen.  He picked the most expensive restaurant in that neighborhood for dinner because he wanted to show you he could appreciate the finer things, that he had money to spend on you, that he wanted to treat you like you were special.  He read dozens of movie reviews before picking that stupid, boring foreign film where everyone was rambling on with lengthy speeches about god-knows-what and all the money was spent on costumes and none on special effects.  

He hated those kinds of movies, but he knew you loved them and the most important thing was that you have a good time.  And you really did seem to be having a good time.  

 Meeting your cousin had been an unexpected hiccup at the beginning of the night – but Jungkook was actually grateful for it.  Although the interaction was uncomfortably awkward, meeting her meant that the relationship was one step closer to being public.  One person close to you now knew your secret.  Jungkook anxiously awaited the day when everyone close to the both of you knew that you were a couple.

Keep reading

You’ll be glad to know that Even and Isak’s move went pretty damn smoothly, apart from the one incident when Isak cut his hand open with a box cutter.

Even was organising the last of his stuff from his old bedroom in their new room and he’d left Isak unpacking the box of crockery (a moving in gift from his parents) in the kitchen. He was just trying to figure out where to prop his guitar up when he heard Isak yell fuck from across the flat.

He knew Isak’s voice well enough to know that that was his god dammit that fucking hurt voice, and he was on his feet and moving through the flat before he’d actively thought about it.

Sure enough, when he got into the kitchen he found Isak gripping his wildly bleeding hand to his chest, the blood smeared box cutter discarded on the floor about a foot away from him. It took a little bit of coaxing, but eventually Isak calmed down enough to let Even hold onto his wrist and lift his hurt hand above his head to stop the bleeding.

Even circled his free arm around his trembling boyfriend and Isak immediately buried his face in Even’s chest. They stood there in silence for a few seconds: Isak shakily breathing in Even’s smell and Even watching the blood trickle down Isak’s pale arm.

“How did you even manage that, Is?” Even peered closer at Isak’s hand, inspecting the cut that ran down the middle of his palm as Isak buried himself closer into Even’s chest.

“I-” Isak began before quickly changing his mind, pressing his face into Even’s shoulder. Even could feel him blushing. A few seconds ticked by before Isak peeped up at Even from under his lashes and Even just raised an eyebrow at his bashful boyfriend, waiting for the rest of the story.

Fine!” Isak sighed dramatically, as if Even was physically forcing the words out of him rather than just raising his eyebrow. “I got distracted.” Isak fiddled with Even’s shirt with his free hand, one of his more obvious tells.

“By what? You don’t even have any music on!” Even said incredulously. For someone pale with blood loss, Isak miraculously managed to blush harder.

“I was just- thinking.” Isak replied haltingly, like he couldn’t decide if he was going to talk or not. Isak had got a lot better at sharing what he was feeling, but he still had moments where words got so thick in his throat that he struggled to get them out.

Even knew to just wait him out during those talks.

“About how we’re probably going to have people over for dinner, and argue about who does the dishes when we’re both tired, and maybe one day you’ll make us terrible cheese toasties again, or we’ll get better at cooking together. Just…a lot of possibilities in there.” Isak nodded down and the box he had been opening.

And that was how Even found himself grinning from ear to ear while holding a pale and bloody Isak.

“You got distracted while using a sharp knife because you were thinking about our future? Isak Valtersen, are you getting sappy in your old age?” Even teased, gently taking the fingers of Isak’s sore hand now the blood had finally stopped and guiding Isak over to the sink.

“I am not sappy!” Isak protested, letting Even rinse his cut under the tap.

“No, of course you’re not, baby, you just couldn’t help but think of all the dinner parties we’re gonna throw and the food we’ll cook together while unpacking our plates.” Even grinned, gently washing the blood from Isak’s arm.

“You’re never going to let me forget this, are you?” Isak groaned, his eyes practically rolling out of his skull.

“Never.” Even agreed, planting a gentle kiss to the cut on Isak’s palm.  “Just like I’m never going to let you near anything sharp ever again. You’re on sauce stirring duty for the rest of your life.”

“I can live with that.” Isak looked up, giving Even that vulnerably honest look that made his heart clench.  “As long as I’m always in the kitchen with you.” Even smiled at that, circling his arms around Isak’s waist and bringing him closer. He brushed his nose gently over Isak’s, watching his eyes flutter closed.

“As if I’d trust you in the kitchen alone.” Even whispered against Isak’s lips, brushing the lightest of kisses there.

The truth was, Even would go anywhere if it meant being with Isak.

Starting with their mess of a kitchen.

X-Men Preference - Spin the Bottle

X-Men Preference – Spin the Bottle

You couldn’t believe you’d been talked into a game of ‘spin the bottle’. You felt somewhat childish as you sat in a circle of various potentials, losing the ‘nose game’ which decided who had to go first spinning the bottle. Nervously, you spun the bottle that was placed in the middle of the circle, watching as it went around quickly until it finally slowed and landed on…


Alex. He didn’t even know how he’d been convinced to sit in on this ridiculous game. A bunch of “ooooo”’s echoed in the room, Scott giving his brother an encouraging thumbs up as he knew full well that Alex had had a crush on you for a really long time. Alex rolled his eyes, attempting to seem as if he wasn’t nervous but in reality, everyone could see the blush that had appeared on his cheeks.

He looked up from the bottle, meeting your nervous gaze and you shrugged your shoulders, giving him a small smile.

“Fuck it,” Alex muttered, sitting on his knees and leaning across the circle until his lips met yours.

For most players that went first in Spin the Bottle, they’d give a quick kiss to the person that the bottle landed on. However, for you and Alex, both of you were more than a little eager as one of his hands reached up to cup your cheek and he used the other to lean on. Your lips moved desperately against one another’s, both of you having waited for this moment for far too long.

“Um, guys,” Scott said, clearing his throat as everyone around you were sitting with smirks on their faces, “you’re welcome to take this elsewhere but other people want to have a turn.”

You and Alex pulled away, both of you blushing furiously and Alex not being able to take his eyes off of you. He’d been wanting to do that since the moment he met you and despite the audience, kissing you for the first time was better than he could have imagined.

“That sounds like a really good idea, actually,” he agreed, getting to his feet and then helping you onto yours. You buried your head into Alex’s shoulder as he led the two of you away from the group, Peter wolf whistling while you made your escape.


Charles. Charles had thought he’d safely got out of playing the game, standing next to Erik as the two of them were more watchers of the games than participants. He glowered at Raven who had been the one to leave a gap in the group so if the bottle landed in the gap it would be directed at Charles and he rarely prodded into Raven’s mind but this was different.

‘I hate you,’ he thought to her and she looked at him with a smirk, you sitting in utter confusion because you weren’t sure if your spin counted.

“Go on, (Y/N),” Raven just about yelled, “give Charles a good ol’ kiss!”

Erik snorted, pushing Charles towards you as you got onto your feet. Even Hank, who thought the game was stupid, was grinning quite widely.

“I mean, (Y/N), if this makes you uncomfor-,” Charles began saying nervously, only to be cut off as you wrapped your arms around him and kissed him. It might have been the alcohol you’d been drinking earlier that made you so confident, but you felt like you deserved to finally kiss the man you’d been in love with so long.

Charles stood in shock for a moment but kissed you back enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around your waist and then pulling you closer to him. Both of you smiled into the kiss, Raven and Hank high fiving because it was about damn time.

“You know, for a telepath, Charles, I thought you would’ve realised (Y/N) liked you,” Erik mused, you and Charles pulling away but your arms remaining around each other.

“Is there a button that’ll just make you go away?” Charles said, causing Raven to roll her eyes.

“It’s called getting a room, you crazy kids.”


Erik. He swore he’d just been passing through and not participating in this game at all. He’d made it clear that he wasn’t to be included and yet the bottle had somehow ‘landed’ on him and now he was staring at you with his mouth slightly open and a red face.

“We should spin it again, Erik said he wasn’-,” Hank began but Erik began shushing him.

“I don’t mind doing it just this once, Hank. It did land on me,” Erik nearly tripped over his feet trying to get to you and you, rather confused, got onto your feet.

“Weren’t you just passing through?” you asked him, Erik shaking his head as the others smirked.

“Change of heart?”

“You’re an idiot,” you said before standing on your tippy-toes and kissing him gently. To your surprise, when you went to pull away, Erik pulled you closer to him and kissed you again. Everything seemed to feel right but the nerves began to fill Erik and he stepped away, his face a rather bright red.

“I can’t believe he finally did it.” Raven said loudly and Erik mumbled ‘sorry’ before dashing out of the room.

“I think that means he likes you?” Alex laughed and you childishly stuck out your tongue before going after the embarrassed mutant.


Hank. The scientist’s heart seemed to get caught in his throat as you smiled encouragingly at you. Leaning across the circle, you gently grabbed him by the collar and pulled him towards you, kissing him quickly on the lips before going to move back to your spot. To your amazement, as you went to sit back, he took you by the collar and pulled you towards him and kissed you with just a bit more confidence and a bit more passion. You sighed into the kiss, your lips moving slowly together and Alex started slow clapping.

“And the beast finally gets the girl. What a moment!”

You and Hank pulled away, a giggle escaping your lips as Hank promptly gave Alex the middle finger.


Kurt. He didn’t have much experience with girls and when the bottle landed on him, he considered shifting into the other room to avoid this. Everyone knew about his crush on you and to share his first kiss with you, in front of everyone, was extremely nerve-racking.

“Is this okay?” you asked him quietly, your face inches away from his and he gulped.

“Er – yes, very okay!”

He briefly looked around at everyone who was grinning encouragingly until suddenly, your lips were on his. Kurt felt like fainting, your lips much softer than he’d ever imagined and he cupped your face as he kissed you rather lovingly.

He was disappointed when you pulled away, you kissing his nose before turning back to the waiting group.

“What cuties,” Jean winked, “does this mean you’ll finally admit you like Kurt, (Y/N)?”


Peter. He had to do a double take when he realised that the bottle had landed on him and he thanked whatever God there was for having the bottle land on him. Peter wasn’t exactly good at hiding his feelings, his excitement written all over his face.

“Whoa,” you giggled when he was suddenly in front of you.

“Hi,” Peter grinned and then he kissed you. You almost forgot to kiss back in shock, feeling equally excited that you’d gotten the opportunity to kiss the silver headed boy that you’d had a crush on for ages. You flung your arms around his neck, kissing him back and Peter was almost buzzing in happiness.

“Hey lovebirds!” Scott yelled, “there are other people here, y’know.”

Peter leaned away, ignoring Scott, “wanna get out of here?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

And then suddenly you were in the other room, not having time to recover from the quick movements as the two of you began to kiss once more.


Scott. His heart raced as his eyes met with yours, him giving a small smile as he tried to pretend that he wasn’t shitting himself in terror that he was going to make a fool of himself.

‘Just act cool, just act cool,’ Scott repeated in his head as the two of you began to lean over, ignoring the encouraging wolf whistles and comments. Everyone had been waiting for one of you to admit to each other that you liked one another but it seemed like it wouldn’t happen.

Your lips met halfway and you absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair, getting caught up in the moment as the two of you kissed eagerly. Both of you wanted to kiss just a little longer but you became very conscious of the watching eyes. Pulling away, Scott felt like he was no longer in control of what he said next.

“Man, I’ve been wanting to do that for ages,” he said, the smile on his face falling when he realised what he said and he quickly retreated back into the circle as you blushed furiously.

‘Me too,’ you mouthed to him before giving an amusing wink.

Would bet all my money - Chris Evans

HELLO INTERNET! Did you miss me?? Well, I’m back with this one shot (that will probably become a series) which follows a prompt coming from a list of AUs that I can post if you’re interested. Btw, I hope you’re happy @supernatural-girl97   the moment you have been waiting has finally come! Enjoy :) xx

                                             CHRIS EVANS X READER

Prompt: We’re the last people in the cinema after a marvel movie because everyone else was weak and we payed to see the damned end credit scene, so who do you think is the hottest avenger ‘cause all my money is on Captain America.

Warnings: none


You were a huge Marvel fan, like “I’ve read the comic books, seen all the movies, have multiple gadgets and really want to meet the actors but have no money to go to conventions” type of fan. You were obsessed with the characters, the storyline and God, the movies were phenomenal from your point of view; they’ve always made goosebumps run all over your skin, they made you want to enter in that parallel universe and be a hero, feel powerful and loved. Perhaps it wasn’t the best to achieve considering the downs of the “hero career”, especially in these stories, but, you know, going to the cinema and enjoy two hours of hot men running around wasn’t that bad.

As soon as you heard that “Captain America: Civil War” had been released in theatres, you immediately freed your agenda and tried to go as many times as possible to see it. In this case, it was the last day the cinema you usually went to showed the film. You felt a little melancholy while buying the ticket for the last time but you shook that thought away by thinking that, one way or another, you would’ve bought the dvd as soon as it was released and would soon have the chance to watch it as many times as you wanted. It was late, you chose on purpose the ultimate show to feel less embarrassed for crying or criticizing loudly the characters’ bad choices for one more time; there were a couple of people spread around in the room, most of them in the front rows or the middle. You happily chose your usual seat in the back and sat down with your big bag of popcorn.

The movie started in about 5 minutes after you had arrived and you were immediately entranced by what was happening and quietly kept noticing details that had gotten out of your sight the first time. 20 minutes in the film, while dark surrounded everyone, someone came in and sat down a couple of seats away from you. You actually didn’t pay much attention, you were too astonished by the movie that you wouldn’t have the time to turn around and notice.

That was probably lucky for Chris because, little did you know, he had decided to go the cinema to see personally the reaction of his fans. He had chosen on purpose, just like you, the last show on the last day. If you had seen him, you would’ve probably started to squeal but still be “cool” because, come on, it’s Chris Evans! The movie ended faster than you thought and soon you were watching the credits roll down, a couple of people got up and left the cinema, not bothering to stay until the end. But you, oh you. You had paid to see that damned end credit scene and you were going to get it.

“Weak people..” you muttered as you saw the last person leave the theatre. A deep voice startled you, making you realize that you weren’t alone.

“Yeah, not everyone is strong enough to wait till the end of the line.” the person said out loud and you turned your head to see where the voice came from, though it was too dark to see the talker perfectly. You understood the reference and smiled to yourself. “Mind if I seat there?”

You looked at his pointing finger and noticed he meant to ask you if he could sit beside you. “Yeah, of course” the credits still scrolled down. He was very tall, wearing a baseball cap on the inside; you smelt his strong cologne as soon as he sat down, it was nice. “Want some?” You asked, offering the last pieces of popcorn that remained.

“Yes, please.” he said, grabbing some of them and starting to eat. It became quiet again and finally the scene you had been waiting arrived. “So, who do you think is the hottest avenger?”

You laughed out loud, choking a little on the popcorn “Um, I think Captain America” you answered, a slightly sarcastic tone in your voice “Yeah, I’d bet all my money on him.”

“Well, Thor isn’t kidding either”

“I’m more of a Loki type, let’s say that.” you giggled, smirking. This person was really enjoyable to be around. The lights flickered on, lighting up all the room, and you turned to the mysterious man beside you. Your breath immediately got knocked out of your lungs “Wait, you’re Chris Evans.”



Psychic: *reads my mind*

My mind: was Michael still hiding in the bathroom when Rich set the house on fire? Just imagine how shitty that would be, having an anxiety attack in some dude’s bathroom and then suddenly hearing people scream and panick while the smell of smoke filled the room. Did he, for just a moment, consider just letting himself die in the fire? He did say that he wished he had offed himself and had never been born just moments before it happened. Michael Mell didn’t deserve any of this and he’s a cinnamon roll who needs to be protected

Psychic: what the fu-

My mind: wait, I’m not done yet. What would have happened if Connor had never seen Evan’s letter and they had actually become friends? Would Connor not have killed himself, knowing that there was somebody who cared about him? Maybe things would have ended up differently if Connor felt like he wasn’t alone. Maybe Evan would have been happy, finally having someone who didn’t see him as invisible.

Psychic: please stop-

My mind: do you ever think about how 21 Chump Street is based on a true story? Justin Laboy is real, and he went to prison because of a narc who basically entrapped him. Yes, he shouldn’t have given her the weed, but if she hadn’t asked him to get it and then force him to take the money he would never have sold weed in the first place. His life was basically ruined over one stupid thing that he did for love. I’m just so angry.

Psychic: *forcibly pushing me out the door* please never come here again
The Tenth Floor pt7

Min Yoongi had gone through 34 secretaries in the past 24 months, and each one of them left in tears. This fact alone should have warned you against taking the job, but the pay was too good to pass up. Surely you could put up with a billionaires temper-tantrums, right?

Yoongi x Reader & Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Fluff, humor, probably some angst

Warnings: Strong language at times, maybe some slight smut eventually

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,

“Wait, right now?” You asked, trialing after Yoongi out of his office. He wound his scarf around his neck as he walked, and you grabbed your jacket from the back of your chair. You had picked the wrong day to wear a pencil skirt, you realized; as soon as the sun went down, you were going to freeze. 

“No better time than the present.” Yoongi replied. 

Seokjin was walking the other way when he saw the two of you, and caught your elbow gently. “Where are you going?” He asked, looking from you, to Yoongi, and back to you again.

“To the carnival, I think.” You said. Seokjin looked even more confused at this, but didn’t have time to press you for questions. 

“Hurry up.” Yoongi snapped, standing in the elevator impatiently. “We don’t have all day.” 

You left Seokjin standing there to join your boss, and as the doors closed, you realized just how strange all this was. 

“What happened to those reports you said you needed to review?” You asked, your voice echoing slightly in the small space. 

“They can wait.” Yoongi shrugged. 

“But didn’t you tell Taehyung they were important?” You asked.

“I lied.” Yoongi gave you a rare smile. “We’re taking my car, by the way.” 

You weren’t sure if you should be offended by this or not, but you weren’t about to argue; your car might have gotten you to work, but that didn’t mean it would get you and Yoongi to and from the other side of town. 

“Yoongi?” You said carefully. “You know the carnival is open on the weekend, right? Why do you want to go today?” 

Yoongi shrugged. “Why? You don’t want to go? You’re getting paid either way, if that’s what you’re concerned about.” 

You frowned. Yoongi was definitely acting weird, and you suspected that, given his noncommittal answer, he didn’t know why he was going, either. But you supposed it didn’t really matter; if your crazy boss wanted a day out, you didn’t see the harm in it. As long as he wasn’t yelling, you could follow him around the carnival until he figured it out. 

To say Yoongi’s car was nice when you saw it would be an understatement. The hard-top convertible Audi looked as though it had just been driven off the car lot, and while the brand suited Yoongi, the baby-blue color didn’t quite. 

It made your car look like a piece of crap, and you made a face as you slid into your seat. 

“You don’t like it?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow as he started the car. 

“No, it’s… Very nice.” You settled. 

“I know.” Yoongi said. “So why do you look so uncomfortable?” 

“I’m not.” You lied. How were you supposed to explain that sitting in such a fancy-ass car made your second-hand skirt feel shabby, or that you were terrified you were going to break something because you couldn’t afford to fix it. “I always look like this.” 

Yoongi didn’t respond to that, and drove in silence for a while. There was something about sitting in the car, someone else driving and paying attention to the road, that reminded you of Taehyung. You thought you might have preferred his slightly beaten up taxi over this. 

But Taehyung-the-taxi-driver wasn’t just a taxi driver, and you were sure you’d never call him again, so you tried to keep your mind off of him. You were working (kind of), and needed to focus on the job at hand.

“Yoongi, why am I here?” You asked after a while, when you knew you were getting close to the fairground. 

“On earth, or in my car?” He asked, sounding slightly distracted by the traffic. 

“Why did you want me to come along?” You clarified, though you were curious what he would say if you asked him what your purpose in the universe was. That would have to wait for another day. 

“You’ve been there before, right?” He didn’t wait for you to answer. “I want to know what normal people do for fun, so you’re going to be like my tour guide.”

“Am I the only ‘normal’ person you know?” You didn’t think you wanted to know the answer, but you asked anyway. 

Yoongi thought about it a moment. “Yes.” 

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