this was all i could cap with my phone

From the Dining Table, Pt. 1 (Ethan)

Summary: Before moving out of the home you once shared with your fame hungry ex-boyfriend, you sit down to write him a letter, explaining to him why you left and where to find you if he ever comes to look for you.

Word Count: 2,352

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: This idea hit me in the middle of the night while listening to Harry Styles’ new album, specifically the last song entitled “From the Dining Table.” I highly recommend you listen to the song while reading this imagine for the full effect. I also apologize in advance if I make anyone feel things; writing this had me feeling all the things. I might turn this into a mini-series if it gets enough love, so please enjoy! Requests are open!

“I honestly never thought this day would come, Mom.” You grab the last of the pictures of you and your ex-boyfriend sitting on the dresser and throw them into a cardboard box in the entrance of the bedroom. “I’m moving out of the house I shared with the person I thought I was going to marry, and he doesn’t even know I’m leaving. Do you hear how twisted that sounds?”

Your mom places the rest of your t-shirts into the open suitcase on the floor. “Honey, you can’t predict the future. You didn’t know he was going to turn out to be this way.”

“We’ve been friends since we were in diapers, Mom. Nothing about him or the way he was raised would have indicated that this would have happened. He used to just be a goofy kid with a camera… What happened?”

She stands up to zip the suitcase. “I don’t know, but you’ve been turning that over in your head for God knows how long now. Haven’t you tortured yourself enough?”

“Hasn’t he tortured me enough?”

The both of you sigh and your stomach begins to twist. You pick up the cardboard box and a couple of tote bags laying around, following your mom as she drags the suitcase out into the dining room, the wheels echoing through the nearly empty house as they click on the wooden floor.

“Y/N, fame changes people. I just hope for his own good that one day he realizes what he truly lost… Okay, do we have everything?”

You shift from one foot to the other, trying to subdue the pain in your abdomen that’s only growing. “Yeah, I think so. My clothes are all packed, the electricity will be shut off by the city tonight, my pictures are all put away, and we loaded all the furniture into the truck yesterday.”

“All, except the table,” she notes.

“Yeah, that’s not mine. I’m leaving it for…” you trail off as you glance at the surface, remembering the notebook and pens you packed in one of your totes.

“Hey Mom, why don’t you take the rest of this stuff? I’ll be outside in a second, I just have something I want to do, first.”

“Okay, but don’t take too long. I want to ride the daylight out as much as possible. You know I have a hard time driving at night.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

Your mom takes the box from you before pushing it and the suitcase out the door. She shuts it behind her while you pull your stationary out from one of the bags, setting it on the table. You take off the cap of your pen, breathing deeply before pressing it to the paper:

 I don’t want to be angry with you anymore, Ethan, but I am. I’m so god damn angry.

I want to live my life and not think about you or hear your laugh everywhere I go. I want to look in the mirror and see my face again instead of yours. I regret cutting all my hair off just so I could look like you. I wish I had the power to delete our song off of my phone. I wish I wasn’t slumped over the dining room table, crying while I was writing this.

You’re so selfish that it makes me sick. The very first night I met you, I didn’t know I’d grow up to consider you my best friend. I never expected to become this attached to you. But, fast forward to the day you left me: when you walked out the door, you took the oxygen from my lungs.

You’re just a set of bones and a beating heart. How did you mess me up so bad?

I was such a fool to think you’d adhere to your resolution to live as normal of a life as possible. You used to know that life has so much more to offer than posting moody pictures on Instagram and hoping it gets over 500,000 likes or ignoring the people who built you up because it makes you feel powerful. What you’ve become absolutely disgusts me, and the worst part of it all is that you don’t even know what the time apart has done to me. I never got to celebrate your birthday with you, something that was a dream of ours to do together. I couldn’t give you Christmas presents this year. I couldn’t sit with you and your family while they grilled hot dogs in your back yard on the Fourth of July. I couldn’t do any of this because you only think of yourself anymore. It’s like you’ve completely forgotten about me.

Right before your departure, you told me you’d come back for me. You said you would text and call whenever you could until we would see each other again in person. I got your first text soon after, and for a while it felt like we were never apart; it felt like the oxygen in my lungs was restored. You’d call me after every show and every promotional event, so excited and in awe that you couldn’t wait to tell me about everything that happened. As time went on though, with the more people you met and the higher you climbed up the ladder, the texts became fewer and farther in between. My phone rang less often until it stopped ringing all together. You didn’t text me anymore. I had to learn about everything you were doing through friends and social media. I can’t count the number of voicemails I left you, afraid that I smothered you and apologizing for being the reason you pushed me away. I know now that it had absolutely nothing to do with me, but I can’t help but hope that one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry, too. It never happens, though. You never do.

You friends tell me that this is normal, that getting through the separation anxiety is the worst part. But, let me ask you this: Was it normal for me to curl up in the fetal position in the middle of the hallway after you walked out of the door? Was it normal for me not to sleep a wink after you were gone? I would scream into the dark of night, begging for you to come back. I would pray for you, and you know how I feel about religion. Praying was something you did before every meal and every night before bedtime. I would watch you clasp your hands together and close your eyes while your lips gracefully moved to form silent requests of peace, grace, and mercy. Do you remember when you asked me about religion? I pressed my lips into a hard line, squeezing my hands together so tightly that I lost feeling within seconds. I did it though, I got down on my knees by my bedside hoping that you would be able to hear me through whatever kind of higher power you believed in. It turns out I was wrong.

Let me tell you that if God does exist, He’s a vulture. He’s completely unfair. The kind of lives He had in store for both of us was cruel and downright disgusting; He chose me for endless suffering and He chose you to poison the lives of everyone you meet. So much for being a good guy, huh?

The worst part of all of this is the fact that despite my anger and resentment towards your addiction to fame and how you chose it over me, you’ve taught me more than I could have ever imagined. It makes me sad, but one of those lessons is the fact that once people are broken in certain ways, they can’t be fixed. This is something that no one ever tells you when you’re young; it never fails to surprise me when I look around and see people close to me breaking one by one. I should probably get it in my head. I saw it happen to you and then I felt it happen to me. I did almost everything to try and heal the resulting pain, including hurting myself in ungodly disturbing ways. I didn’t, however sleep with strangers and then leave them in the cold like the tabloids said you did.

But, see, even if I did such an ugly, terrible thing, those people would never fill this hole. I’m always going to want you. I’m always going to choose you.

I hate myself for that. I hate that I can be so angry and so vicious toward what you’ve become, but at the end of the night I lay in bed knowing I’m always going to be waiting for you. I can lie to myself all I want about it and yet I still find myself walking around every day thinking about how different circumstances would be if you were by my side at any particular moment. I tell myself to avoid everything that reminds me of you; instead I expose myself to those things even more because I don’t know how to live without the hole in my chest anymore. I can easily say I’ve failed at attempting to get over you and I don’t want to make any more attempts. The only way I can carry you with me now is by carrying the pain of you not being with me. The pain has been there for two years, five months, three weeks, and two days. This is the only way I know how to live now.

But, above all else, the one thing I desperately need you to know is that even before my anger, pity, and resentment, if you ever end up calling me again, even if it’s at 4 AM and you’re too sad to say a word, I won’t yell at you about how much of my life you’ve consumed. Rather, I will intently listen to your silence until you’re able to fall asleep again. If you need to cry, I won’t wipe away your tears because we’re only human and sometimes tears are the closest we can get to laughter and that’s okay. If you need to yell so ferociously that your voice gives out and your knees fail you, I’ll be there to hold you up and I’ll yell with you to make you feel less alone. If you get so angry that you punch your hands raw, I will ice your knuckles and gently remind you that wounds do eventually heal, both inside and out, just like the way harsh winters give way to warm springs. I will be your warm spring again, and I will do all of this because I love you unconditionally, even when you spite me and drive me insane. Sometimes I think I’d be better off dead than putting up with everything that comes with you, and I hate the fact that I don’t hate you. I just love you. My love is over, underneath, inside, and in between all the struggles that we have faced.

Now, I’m begging you, Ethan. If you ever decide to come look for me, I’ve left California; I can’t live in a place that feels so artificial anymore. I’m going back to the beginning, the place where you and I planted our roots, where we ran around in the sprinklers in the summer and made snow angels in the winter, where we tossed our high school graduation caps in the air and took weekend trips driving into the city. I’m going back to the place where I can find myself again. If you ever decide to come look for me, I’ll be waiting for you there.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you fold the piece of paper down in thirds before placing it in an envelope and sloppily addressing it with an “E”. A horn honks outside, cueing you to grab the last of your bags and place the letter in the middle of the table. As you approach the front door, you turn around to take in the empty house one last time. All of the memories you and Ethan shared together here begin to dance in front of your eyes and you sigh to yourself, grateful that they’re going to stay with you for the rest of your life, but heartbroken you have to leave this behind. Finally, you step out onto the front porch and lock the door behind you.

“Alright, I’m good. I’ve got everything,” you grunt as you climb into the passenger seat of the moving van, tossing the bags behind you.

Your mom reaches over from the driver’s side to place her hand on your cheek. “You are such a brave girl. I am so proud of you for starting to let go.”

You close your eyes and place a hand on her wrist. “Thanks, Mom. Can we please go now, though, before I get too sentimental? I don’t want to cry anymore. My lungs already hurt too much.”

The both of you let go of each other to click your seat belts in place, and as your mom pulls the truck out of the neighborhood and onto the highway, you roll the windows down and turn on the radio. After several minutes of humming along to the music and getting lost in your own thoughts, your mom’s voice startles you.

“Do you think he’ll ever come back?”

You shift in your seat, unsure how to answer. “It’s been over two years, Mom.”

“What if he decides to come back to the house and you’re not there?”

“He has a key. He can get in.”

“But you won’t be there.”

You pause for a moment. “No, I won’t be. But I have a feeling that if he ever comes across what I left for him, he’ll know exactly where to find me.”

“And where’s that?”

You glance out the window, the vast, California landscape speeding by you as you head for the state line. The two of you have a long drive ahead of you back to the East Coast, almost 2,800 miles.

“Home. I told him to come home.”

Name: Ginny

Age: 18

Location: USA

Occupation: Student


Let’s start with my ukulele. My cousin gave it to me before we went to the US. I always borrowed her sister’s ukulele, and I would record a lot of covers with it. She told me that I should keep recording and playing when I got here. Until one day, days before our flight, she came to our house and gave me a big box. This lil’ ukulele was inside it! I kept saying “Are you for real?!” cause I just couldn’t believe it!

On the top middle is my travel journal. This is a really good find. My aunt bought it for me at Goodwill for $2! I didn’t know what to do with it. I decided to make it a travel journal when I went to California and New York last summer. That little drawing in there shows what I see when I wake up in the morning at my aunt’s apartment in Daly City. Still not finished with the whole journal though. I’m still working on it!

Below that is my Brandy Melville denim jacket! It’s my absolute favorite. As soon as I saw it I told myself that I’m definitely going to get it. Even after I saw how much it was.

On the right are my laptop, phone charger and eyeglasses. My laptop is basically where all the magic happens. I do all my photo and video editing in there. My dad bought it for me, but I paid like less than half of it with the money I earned from selling phone cases. Then there’s my glasses. I just want to say it’s really pretty and it helps me see this beautiful world, lol, but look at my phone charger! It’s so cute! I wrapped my bee washi tape around it!

Lastly, there’s my white embroidered cap. I got it from Ross. I swear to God when I saw it there was light coming down from heaven and I could hear the angels singing. It is such a good find, and it’s cheap! I decided to put it in this picture because I know I’m gonna have a hell lot of adventures with this lil’ guy.

Eat all my food while I fix your phone? Have fun explaining this one...

I used to work for the largest company in the world (by market cap) and know quite a bit about their electronic gadgets. This has earned me the unfortunate family title as tech support for all things Fruit related.

Last week, I received a call from my brother asking if I could fix his friend’s phone as it was acting weirdly. I told him to come by my place and I would get it sorted out. Well, this friend of my brothers is 16, and kind of a little douche (LD). He also smokes far too much weed to ever be healthy (nothing against the stuff, but seriously… Too much is too much). Anyways, they come by stoned out of their mind right as I finish making myself some delicious baked spaghetti for dinner.

I proceed to update his phone to the new OS and fix his issues (which was an app that required an update to the latest OS version to work properly) and all is ready to go. I come back to find my baked spaghetti completely devoured by LD while my brother was playing video games in the living room.
You motherfucker.

So I went into the settings and now his phone autocorrects ‘tired’ to 'high’ every time he types it in. That way, every time he types “I am too tired” it becomes “I am too high” etc. Give him the phone back and say all is fixed.
Two days later I get a text message asking wtf, because his friend is grounded for telling his parents he was too high to go to a family dinner.
Never. Eat. My. Goddamn. Spaghetti.

Petty Revenge: Your daily dose of the best petty revenge stories. | source

Grand Tour, Alex Lacamoire x Reader

Prompt: Alex admits he’s never been to San Francisco before, you give him a grand tour.

Words: 1,108

Author’s Note: I’ve actually only been to SF like…twice. Even though I only live like an hour and a half away. I just really like writing for Lac, alright?

Warnings: Nada! Happiness to make up for the angst I put you through yesterday.

Askbox | Masterlist | HamWriters write-a-thon | My fics from this week!

Waking up to an early morning text in all caps was never a settling feeling Your stomach stirred as you swiped on your phone to read the urgent message from Alex.


A schedule change, you could deal with that. You let out a breath of relief before sending a confirmation, adjusting your schedule in your head to accommodate the sudden change.

Why Alex would need everybody in the theater an hour earlier was beyond you - the cast was already pushing past eight hour rehearsals most days. The breakneck rehearsal process was stretching you thin, but you enjoyed every minute of it.

You had been casual acquaintances with Alex for years now - seeing each other in classes at college and occasionally he would be the accompanying pianist in random auditions you would go for.

You came to have a mutual understanding of one another’s presence. He was extremely talented and he promised he thought the world of you. Enough that as soon as you stumbled into the audition room for a Hamilton Tour callback, you were at the top of the list.

A guaranteed spot in the ensemble with an understudy position for the Schuyler Sisters. A role in a show that was sweeping the world and he had to promise a million times that it wasn’t a favor.

Still, the rest of the cast could see the understanding you had. Subtle nudges and knowing winks would throw you for a loop as you moved closer to Alex, a question about a certain note or a harmony you couldn’t quite decipher.

You trudged down to the theater with just enough time to stop for a late breakfast, enough to sustain you until you broke for lunch in a few hours.The lack of chaos was quite noticeable as you shrugged your had off your shoulder and onto the floor.

“Hello?” You called out into the empty theater, in its final stages of building as the cast and crew transferred from a rehearsal building into the actual space.

The echos of your call sounded back to you. You hesitated for a moment, waiting for a response. A distant twinkling of a piano peaked your interest. You descended the stairs, your belongings forgotten on the floor as you tried to make out the tune.

You grinned when the notes strung together to form the familiar song. Walking past the stage and towards the offices, you took the familiar trek to the first office. Half empty with a piano tucked in the corner, it was designated Alex’s for the time being.

His head was tucked down, curls bouncing as his eyes scanned the sheet music before him.

Oh my man I love him so-” You drawled, startling him, hands retreating from the piano.

He swiveled on the piano bench, grinning at the early morning sight of you. you were clad in your usual rehearsal attire, nice athletic pants and a loose fitting top. Hair out of your face, comfortable, well-worn sneakers on your feet.

He had to collect himself before being able to greet you properly. 

“Morning.” He settled on. Simple, straight to the point, he avoided eye contact as he turned back to the keys. He nodded for you to continue.

He’ll never know.” You sang along as his hands resumed their movements, gracefully dancing across the ivory keys.

He took this opportunity to steal a few glances your way as you settled into his office chair, absorbed in the song. With your eyes closed, he could inspect your face for a moment longer than he normally would permit himself.

Your brow furrowed as your voice dipped, grinning at the extra work he did on the keys.

For whatever my man is, I am his. Forever more.” His voice broke as he attempted to belt alongside you. He didn’t quite reach the note, but you smiled as he giggled, knowing he was far from perfect. He didn’t care, he was having fun.

“Thanks for the mini-jam session.” He pushed away from the piano and moved to his desk, cluttered with sheet music. He cradled a Starbucks mug in his hand, the words New York on proud display along a distinct city skyline.

“Now that you’re a West Coast body, you should really switch out the mug.” He inspected it for a moment, hastily turning it in his hands so the words no longer faced your San Francisco loving eyes.

“Sorry, It’s my first trip to the Bay. I’ve been in the theater the entire time.”

He spoke so casually, shrugging as you gaped at him.


“We have to fix this! There are shops and diners and the ocean!” Your mind raced to compile a list of noteworthy spots - many of them nowhere on a tourist pamphlet. “If it weren’t for rehearsal we could hit them all.”

He stiffened at the mention of rehearsal, suddenly rather invested in the idea of alphabetizing the stack of books in the corner of the room.

“Speaking of rehearsal-” He pleaded with you in his mind, hoping you would forget the early morning text he had sent when he was wishing for nothing more than to see your smile uninterrupted by the rest of the cast, “-I notice no one else is here.”

Well, there went that plan.

“Was it just me to get the schedule change?”

“Right! Uh, I just had a note-” He made quick work of fishing out the script from his bag, flipping to a random page that happened to have you on it, “-this harmony.” He returned to the piano as you sang along.

Unfortunately for him, you sang perfectly.

“That’s it? You called me in four hours early for that one harmony?” He fidgeted under your gaze, fingers randomly pressing notes that somehow still sounded flawless under his touch.


With a confirming smile, you stood and gathered his bag, shoving it in his arms as you made your way out of his office.

What - where are we going?” He slung his bag over his shoulder, trailing behind you as he gathered himself.

“We have precisely two and a half hours to squeeze in my favorite record store and lunch spot.” You halted by the door, scooping up your own bag and turning back to Alex. “Unless you don’t want to go to lunch with me?”

“I would very much like to go to lunch with you please.”

You nodded in satisfaction, pushing the doors open triumphantly.

“And maybe we can stop at a Starbucks, the San Francisco mug is much nicer than the New York one.”

He couldn’t find it in himself to argue with you.

What A Weird Relationship (5/5) - Peter Parker x (f)Reader x Brother!Stark

Originally posted by thunderbirdthor

Words: 1862
Pairing: Peter Parker x (f)Reader x Brother!Stark
Featuring: James Rhodes, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Scott Lang, Wanda Maximoff, Bucku Barnes, Natasha Romanoff, Vision, Bruce Banner
Warnings: sadness, hurt
Requested: 1000 follower special!! Which is kinda crazy because I just hit 1500…THANK YOU GUYS!
Author’s Note: last part! Maybe an extra part for like after this? If it’s wanted, feel free to request! { @canon-is-drarry @im-melancholic @marvelousimaginesforyou @starkingdom }

One Two Three Four Five Six


“You really should get some sleep.” Rhodey walked up behind Tony, who was sitting on the steps outside of the Facility.

“You need to stop telling me that. I can’t.” Tony replied. “I’m too worried about her…I need to make sure she comes back. Safe.” He sighed, a yawn coming out.

Rhodey sat down next to him. “What are you doing?” Tony asked.

“I’m going to wait with you, too. I care about the both of you.” He smiled.

Tony smiled back and pushed Rhodey’s shoulder. “So, when are you going to talk about having Stark officially become her last name?”

Tony sighed. “Well,”

Everyone on Team Cap was worrying their asses off.

“We need to get her back to Mr. Stark, right away!” Peter yelled.

“Wanda, have you ever had anything happen like this?” Steve asked.

“No, not even when it just happened to her. I’ll read her…” She whispered.

“Should I call Mr. Stark?” Peter asked.

“No, kid, he can’t know she’s with us. He’d kill me.” Steve grumbled.

Clint was standing next to your unconscious body, monitoring you.

“Agh!” Wanda yelled. “I can’t get into her mind, it hurts too much…someone’s trying to take control of her powers.” She said.

“Try and wake her up, I’m going to go get our jet. Buck, come with me.” Steve said and walked out of the base.

Keep reading

Status Update

Uh, what’s on my mind?  Fuckin Facebook… uh, let’s see …

Went to a bookstore today.  Sometimes pieces of my old life float to the surface.  I get seized by it, weird, irrational thoughts like I could use a new book or It’s been awhile since I checked out that bookstore.  The urge happens almost too quick for me to realize it, and before I know, I’m walking through the door into the cool air of the bookstore.  New releases are propped up invitingly on small stands.  Beyond, another room is crammed full of books on shelves, spines out, words clamoring to be heard.

I still have a list of books I haven’t read that I want to on my iPhone.  I wander around the stacks, idly flicking through my list.  There’s less now than there was before, and it isn’t because I was able to check them off - it’s because one day, I was looking at my lists and I just suddenly got so pissed off, totally shaking with rage, and swiped angrily to the left - delete function - on entry after entry.  I was left with the few still there, and even just glancing at those caused my body to knot up tight like a fist.  I put my phone back in the pocket of my gym shorts and stretched out my arm.  It had been back and biceps day at the gym, and I could feel the soreness starting to creep into my muscles.  The muscles that were prominently on display - well, OK, my triceps, those are really starting to pop - because I’m wearing a tank top.  That’s all I wear out in public now - tank tops and gym shorts.  Today, flat-soled Vans and Nike ankle socks.  A baseball cap turned backwards.  My glasses, in the searing sun, have turned to shades, at least, partially. 

What am I doing?  I thought.  I don’t look like I belong here.  The people who run this place, those fucking twig-like hipsters behind the counter in their floodwater khakis and their saddle shoes, their fucking immaculately trimmed beards and ostentatiously simple black-framed glasses.  Their mild confusion at my presence.  I’m guessing.  I’ve only picked up one or two books the whole time I’m here.  I’ve looked at my phone more, which keeps binging loudly in the quiet store.  I’m sure heads turn, disapproval is broadcasted.  Look at the dumb jock answering his phone in the bookstore.  Like someone talking too loudly in a movie.  If it rings, I decide instantly, I’m going to –

It rings.  I swipe right to answer.  I am about to say “Hello?”  or  “Hey,” like I normally do, but suddenly I make a different choice.  It’s my friend, and we’re supposed to meet up for dinner – for some chow – later, like, not too later, just in like an hour or so, “What’s UP bro?”  comes out of my mouth, almost like a horse’s bray, and this time I can just see the looks on the hipster’s faces, on the nice-looking girl in the summer skirt idly leafing through a book of short stories.  Irritation, disapproval, all invisibly pointed at me. 

But here’s the thing.  It felt amazing.  It felt like the biggest rush in the world, like taking a rollercoaster straight down and around the fuckin loop at 100 miles an hour bro.  And when he answered, maybe he was a little unsure because of how I’d answered the phone - I mean, that’s not me, right? 

I was out in the sun again before I knew it, glasses turning back into shades.  I spend a lot more time out in the sun these days.  The bell on the bookstore’s door jingled loudly, as if trying to match my volume.  And here’s the other thing - since I had so abruptly ratcheted the volume of my voice up to 11, the knob broke off, or at least, it felt like that, and I just couldn’t keep from talking as loudly as I had when I answered the call.  The whole way down the street, phone tilted to my ear, talking as loudly as possible, heart hammering, everyone in shouting distance able to hear me. 

Fuck.  When did I turn into such a d-bag?  I used to go in that bookstore all the time bro.  I used to, I used to sometimes compulsively buy a book even though I didn’t know who the author was or anything about it.  I used to spend hours in there, just paging through the books.  It seemed like a movie I saw once about someone who spent a lot of time in a bookstore, just paging through the books, but it couldn’t have been a movie I saw.  How boring would that movie be?  Unless someone robbed the bookstore and there was some real, y’know, action, or something to it. 

The sun was making me dizzy, which wasn’t the first time that day.  It’s been kind of hot out lately, but every moment I don’t spend out in the sun is a moment I feel kinda bad on the inside, like I should be outside as much as possible.  I should be showing as much skin as possible.  I need to be as tan as possible.  It makes the muscles pop more.  And that’s what matters, muscles and protein.  Man, I’m gonna eat a huge fuckin steak tonight at dinner.  My bro won’t like it much, he’ll probably sniff and say somethin about how the cow died inhumanely, or whatever.  I actually, secretly?  Have never really cared about that, not really.  I just need the protein.  I may have agreed once or twice, but I was just playin along, because I didn’t want the fuckin lecture.  And I’ll keep the shit about going into the bookstore to myself.  Nobody saw me do it, I’m sure, and I don’t want anyone knowin I went in there.  It was a dumb choice, why would I spend money on books that could be going to food, or supps, or more gear for working out?  I seem to always need new gear for working out, I mean, I only wear sleeveless shirts to the gym now - why wear sleeves?  How will I see where my muscles are growing?  That seems obvious to me.

So it’s kinda funny when my bro at dinner is all quiet and weird.  I know he’s gay and I know he’s got a crush on me.  Fuck, I got a crush on me.  It’s not gay, it’s just called ‘mirin.  Hard to look away from myself when I’m flexing in the mirror, stare right into my own eyes, dare me to flex even harder, really show off my fuckin biceps, flex my traps, my lats.  I think I’m gonna start paring down my collection of books, too.  I don’t have room in my room for the shelf, anyway, and it’s the perfect lighting to put a full-length mirror in.  Oh, wait, I just did that.  I forgot.  Two days ago.  I remember standin in front of it just last night.  Right?  That’s right.  I open up my phone and flick through to Photos and yeah, there’s a bunch of me posing.  Posin in different gear too.  But I’m not the one holding the camera.  My bro is. 

“So, do you remember any of last night?”

Shit.  I think I kinda do.  It’s fuzzy.  Like … “Was I drunk?”

“Naw, you haven’t had a drink in weeks, bro.”

He says bro funny.  I feel a weird vertigo, like my chair is slowly tipping backwards.  I flick through my Photos.  I’m posin a lot.  In different gear.  Shit, that’s a fucking singlet, I didn’t know I had a fucking singlet.  Something looks weird with my eyes.  Like I’m sleepwalking.  And there’s my bro, my big bro, in every shot, holding my phone, staring right at me, staring right at me even now, at dinner, over the table.  “Yeah,” I say, uncertainly.  What’s happening?  I’m falling, but I’m sitting straight up.  The back of my head feels heavy, like someone is pressing on it.  My brain feels squished, like when you screw your eyes shut really hard.

“You just been making different choices, Brendan.  How’s that working out for you, bro?  You’re healthier, now, aren’t you?  Fitter.  Happier.  More muscular.  Hotter.”  He licks his lips and smiles.  “Isn’t that what you want?”  He pauses.  Takes a sip of water.  I’m silent, because no words are coming to mind.  I wait for him to continue.  His words have a weight to them.  They are each like depth charges, exploding in my head.  “Tell me what you want, more than anything in the world, Brendan.”

I do the only thing I know how to do.  I lift my arms and I flex, and I grin, because fuck it, flexing feels fucking amazing, and my bro is laughing, and he’s lifting his phone, and he’s snapping a picture.  “This one’s goin on fuckin Facebook.  Ah, shit, this is the best thing ever.  Aren’t you glad you went to that hypnotist with us, Brendan?”

“What hypnotist?”

“It’s OK,” my bro says.  Soothingly.  It does calm me down.  I was gettin kinda riled up there.  “Don’t think about it too hard.”  He laughs.  “Well, harder than you can, anymore, anyway.”

Okay.  That sounds about right.  “Okay,” I say.  The protein has arrived, anyway, a huge steaming bowl of rice and chicken and veggies, and my mouth is watering so much that I think I must be drooling, but fuck it.  I wish I didn’t even have to use a fork, I wanna just shovel it into my face with my hands…

“And after we’re done here,” my bro is saying.  Was he talking the whole time?  I couldn’t remember the words he’d said, but I remember the sound of his voice.  I look at him again.  He is kinda nerdy.  Not real hipster, not really.  Glasses, the haircut.  He’s smart, too.  He’s really the only smart dude I hang around, because most guys I don’t get when they talk smart like my bro, but you gotta have at least one smart guy around when you need to make choices.  I usually make the right ones, anyway, I mean, c’mon, how hard is it.  Muscles, protein.  Maybe an action movie in there somewhere, or a trip to the beach, or rock climbing, or tossing the football around in the park. 

Hey, those all sound like awesome ideas. 

“Bro?  You in there?”  My bro is snapping his fingers in front of my face and laughing.  “Damn, you’re slow.”

“Sorry, bro,” I say, through a mouthful of rice and chicken I didn’t even know I was eating.  “What were you saying?”

“After we’re done here, I’m coming over to your apartment.  I’ve seen what it looks like, and you need some help dumbing it down.  I’ve got some ideas for you.  And there’s a lot of clothes you can get rid of and make space in your dresser for more gear.  Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Yeah,” I say, because whatever he’s saying, it’s cool with me, he’s my bro.  I just gotta get this fuel in me, because my body is fuckin hungry as shit. 

“And I might let you suck my cock,” my bro says, waggling his eyebrow at me.  “No homo.”

“No homo,” I repeat, still mowing down on my chow.  Fuck, this rice and chicken and veg is awesome.  I could eat this forever.  Every day.  Well, that and my protein shakes.  “Sure, bro.”

He leans back, grinning.  “Fuck.  You’re perfect.  Never change, bro.”

And I grin, and I flex again, and he checks his phone.  Probly checking up on my Facebook.  I let him have the password, because fuck that, all that shit is too complicated.  It’s better to have my bro make those choices for me.  I trust him.  He’s never let me down.  And he won’t.  He knows who I am, who I really am, who I’ve always been, and who I’ll always be.

So … what’s on my mind?  Well, muscles, and what I’m gonna lift tomorrow, and uh, I dunno, stuff like that.  

Eh, I was gonna update my status, but I’m just gonna let my bro do that for me. He’s better at all that shit, anyway.   All I need is the gym.   And my bro.

He looks at me over the table and grins, and presses a button on his phone, and I hear the sound of a post being made.  “Go ahead,” he motions, and I pull out my phone.  There’s the picture of me, flexing in the restaurant, shit-eating grin on my face, hat backwards.  Already the Likes are coming in, and some comments, and I’d look at them, but I don’t care that much about that shit anymore.

“Cool, bro,” I say, and dive back into my food.  I even eat what my bro doesn’t finish, and after we leave the restaurant, I’m confused a little, mostly full, feeling kinda dopey.  I almost wander into traffic once … or maybe twice, that was kind of embarrassing, but my bro was right there to stop me from walkin into the road.  Haha.  I’m funny when I’m full, I just wanna lay down and gobble on my bro’s knob.  He lets me do that.  He calls me a dumbass knob-gobbler, and I’m kinda okay with that.  My bro can do whatever he wants, because he knows best.

So … what’s on my mind?  Well, muscles, and what I’m gonna lift tomorrow, and uh, I dunno, stuff like that.  

Eh, I was gonna update my status, but I’m just gonna let my bro do that for me.  He’s better at all that shit, anyway.   All I need is the gym.   And my bro.

Can I Help Ya, Kid? part 2

Originally posted by thewinchesterdaily

Characters: Dean, Sam, reader, Bobby, Crowley
Word count: 889
Warnings: None
Author: Brittiny
[Part 1]

“Alright, spill it.” Dean said, not even giving Bobby the chance to get in the kitchen. He was standing at the stove making what looked like pasta. “Who’s the kid?” He glanced over while he stirred the sauce.

Bobby sighed as he sat down. “She’s my kid it turns out.” He shrugged. What else was there to say? “Remember Rose?” He asked the boys.

Sam nodded. “Yeah,  you used to meet up with her now and then.”

“Turns out that the last time resulted in that little girl.” He slid the letter over to Sam.

“And you believe it? Just like that?” Dean asked, giving Bobby one hell of a look.

“Listen here, boy, if Rose says she’s my kid, she’s my kid.” He snapped. “Now can we not talk about this because she’ll will be down here any minute.” He glared at Dean, seeing as he was being the pissy one. Sam didn’t seem to be all that upset.

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Strange Love

Prompt #1: “Why are we at a strip club?”

Author: Caitsy

Warnings: strip club, fluff, and knives.

Disclaimer: I do not own marvel or characters. I also do not own any gifs, images or songs.

Summary: It’s Bucky’s birthday and while you are dating you want to surprise him and Steve. You decided to officially welcome them to the twenty-first century with a nice trip to a strip club where your friend is a well known exotic dancer. How flustered with the 40s men be at this place?

Requested: Yes. Anonymous

A/N: I was waiting for someone to request this haha!

Originally posted by stansons

It was Bucky’s birthday where Tony wanted to throw themed party with a large ice sculpture resembling Bucky. You had put your foot down on that because it was an asshole move. Instead you had a plan to take both Steve and Bucky out. It was something you were excited for because you had a camera to capture their faces when you out to the place. You should be jealous since Bucky was your boyfriend but you wanted to do this and see his reaction and you have a strange love.

“Tony! We are not doing that!”

“What? I thought he would like a twin!” Tony smirked, “I still think it would be good!”

“No.” You glared. He groaned annoyed at you.

Tony didn’t think it mattered to celebrate a birthday for a guy that should be dead by now…well for a normal person. Besides Tony wasn’t fond of the super soldier as much as everyone else was. Hell even Sam had become good friends with the winter soldier.


“You just want to have a party to get drunk at without being called an alcoholic.”


You rolled your eyes as you walked off to find Nat and Wanda to talk about your plan. You were the only one that knew where you were talking the boys and you thought they would get a kick out of it. They were each in the sparring room with Wanda practicing her powers while Nat was sharpening a few of her knives.

The ones you got her for her birthday that was an intricate design that she had fallen in love with. She would deny that as much she could but her old knives had been unused since she got the new ones. Nat didn’t like flowers but if you got a bouquet knives she would be very happy.

“Nat and Wanda I have a plan.” You said, “It’s Bucky’s birthday and I’m surprising them by taking them to a strip club.”

The girls stopped what they were doing as the words were processed in their minds. They went wide eyes looking at you before they began to laugh.
“Are you sure that’s what you should do?” Nat snorted.

“Yeah.” You smirked, “A flustered pair of manly super soldiers? Hell yeah.”

“I want to watch that.” Nat chuckled shaking her head, “Please get a picture of them. Wanda and I have a mission in a could hours to go on.”

“That’s why I’m having my phone at the most charged amount.” You laughed before you all sobered up when Steve came into the room, “Hey Cap.”

“Ladies.” Steve nodded as he came closer up to you guys, “Y/N what are we going for Bucky’s birthday?”

“It’s a surprise for Bucky and you.” You winked. Steve sighed not comfortable with not knowing what you were dragging Bucky to.

The poor man was still getting used to a new arm and life without being tied to HYDRA now. Steve was almost like a father to Bucky with how protective he was and you could tell it was now getting annoying to everyone. Bucky had appreciated it at first but not it was getting out of hand but he didn’t want you to bring it up with Steve. Bucky wanted to stop being babied.

“Can you tell me please?” Steve asked crossing his arms, “I want to know so I can be prepared for anything that could happen.”

“No.” You coldly said, “You do not need to know every detail of the mans life. You better go check if took a shit at the time you like.”

“Excuse me?” Steve tensed up. He was agitated with how you talking to him. He would appreciate having respect from everyone on the team.

“You heard me.” You glared, “I will come get you and Bucky when it’s time to go but until then drop it.”

Without another word you stormed out of the sparring room to the elevator, the doors closed just as Steve was storming over to it. You knew that he would have words with you but you were going to avoid it. Slamming your bedroom door you ordered FRIDAY to lock the door and not let anyone into the room.

“Y/N open the door!” Steve exclaimed slamming his hand on your door.

You plugged earphones in and leaned back yawning as you decided to take a much needed nap. Your eyes fluttered a few hours later when your stomach let out a growl so you dressed up in better clothing and walking to the kitchen. Nat and Wanda were putting food on the table while everyone was lounging around the common room.

“Smells good.” You sighed walking over to the girls.

“It’s ready!” Nat exclaimed sitting at the table waiting for everyone to show up, “Happy birthday Bucky.”

With some small toasts you dug into the food extremely hungry from sleeping through lunch. Glares from Steve ended when Bucky had some sharps words with his best friend.


Steve and Bucky were following you as you walked down the street where it was getting more and more seedy. The building had a raunchy name that confused the boys but you smirked. You had respect for this place because of your friends worked here.

“What is this place?” Steve frowned confused.

“You’ll see.”

You all walked up to the door where a bouncer was there standing stoic with large muscles that almost were bigger than the super soldiers. He was beside the door that had a line waiting to get in.

“Y/N! It’s been a while.” The man smiled at you.

“Hey Tommy.” You grinned, “I have some visitors here that have never been in this place before. How much to get in quick?”

“For you?” Tommy chuckled, “A hug should be sufficient.”

You chuckled pulling the burly man into a hug before he opened the door for you guys. The strobe lights weren’t obscene but the girls on the stage were. They were stripping to a good song while you smiled looking around, your friend was main stage putting on a really good show.

“Is this a strip club?!” Bucky exclaimed flustered.

Your friend was walking off stage when you shoved Bucky and Steve into separate booths on the sides of the room. Your friend, Ruby, was the most sought out girl for a lap dance. She had jokingly given you once and you had been turned on to be honest.

“Y/N!” She grinned hugging you without getting the oil transferred to you, “Which one is the birthday boy?”

“Him.” You answered pointing a finger to a flustered Bucky Barnes. Steve was chocking not knowing what to do with his hands. You had known both of them had never been in a place like this, despite being a ladies man in the 40s, Bucky had never been in a club.

Ruby got to work and you could see how the boys were turned on majorly so you grinned at them both.

“Welcome to the twenty-first century officially boys.” You grinned as you looked at the picture of Bucky and Steve’s faces when you walked in, “So framing this.”

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Well if the show isn’t gonna give me any Dean/Aaron then I guess I gotta write it my goddamn self

“I killed Hitler.”

“Dude, it’s like 2 in the mor–”

“I killed Hitler, dude.”

“OK. Fine. I’m awake.” There’s some shuffling on the line, the click of a lamp. “What the fuck are you saying to me?”

“Hitler came back for, like, five seconds, and I killed him. Shot him right between the eyes.” Dean tucks the phone against his ear so he can twist the cap off a beer. He sped all the way back to the bunker just so he could have this conversation without Sam next to him rolling his eyes. 

“What happened to taking down the Thu–”

“Dude! Are you not hearing me?”

Aaron sighs into the receiver. “You really killed Hitler? The Hitler?”

“Well, he was in a different body but yeah. I fucking killed him.”

“You’re serious?”


“You actually did it.”

“I did.”

“If you’re joking, I swear to–”

“I’m not joking!” Dean drops into a kitchen chair and downs half his beer. “You can ask Sam.”

The line goes quiet for a second. “I can’t believe this. You’re actually serious. You really did it.”


Some more shuffling. “I gotta go.”

“What? Aaron, what the fu–”

The line goes dead.


It’s been three days since Dean killed Hitler, and it’s been zero days since Dean’s mentioned that he killed Hitler. Sam is so sick of hearing about it over breakfast that he almost, almost put his earphones in this morning so he could drink his coffee at the kitchen table in peace.

Dean’s late getting up, which is rare. Sam is about to go check on him when he hears some doors shutting and some poignant yawning down the hall. As footsteps approach, he slides Dean’s mug to the edge of the table without taking his eyes off his computer screen.

“Coffee’s on,” Sam greets.

“Uh, thanks.”

Sam’s attention snaps up real quick. “Um. Aaron. What.”

Aaron sheepishly grabs the mug off the table and guiltily scrunches his face up at Sam. “Yeah…” he says, holding out the “ah” sound for a solid 10 seconds.

“I thought you were in Ber–is that Dean’s robe?”

“Hmm? Oh. Um. Sure, yeah, I guess. I just grabbed it because I was…”

Dean slides into the kitchen then, his socks skidding across the linoleum before he bumps shoulder-first into Aaron. He’s wearing a red baseball shirt that’s so tight across his chest that Sam can practically hear the bias of the fabric screaming in pain. It barely covers his belly button.

“Hey, Sammy, guess what?”

“Dean, I really don’t–”

“I killed Hitler.” He bounces his eyebrows at Sam before turning toward Aaron and smacking his ass. “Who would’ve thought–” He wraps an arm around Aaron’s neck and plants a sloppy kiss on his cheek, “–that’s all it took to get this guy in bed?”


Caught off guard: who startled who  (Part 2 of 2)

“I was standing at the payphones when I was talking to my mom and my friend Brandi Helling..and my friend Brandi hung up the phone she was on and I saw kids running.  I turned and saw a tall man in a trenchcoat with a gun. My friend went running because a teacher grabbed her. I was still on the phone at this time it  was 11:20 am.  I then dropped the phone ran into the bathroom and hid in a stall and then came out later.  I was still hearing gunshots at this time but my mom was still on the phone screaming my name. I told my mom to come get me as I hung up the phone a bullet or shell hit the phone next to me. I took off running. The gunman came outside (the main entrance) and started shooting and went back into the school.

From what the gunman looked like..I saw him very briefly. He was wearing a trenchcoat with a black cap. The gunman was very tall and skinny. The suspect was laughing as he was shooting. He backed away from where I saw him and he saw me..he backed away and all I could see was his arm.”

Note that in Lauren’s state of fight or flight panic with her visual acuity and perception being distorted, her recall of events given on 4/20 describe Dylan to be ‘tall and skinny’ but then guesses him to be 5′8  (!)   This kind of stuff happens all the time with student accounts in the 11k where their recollection is off. She also claims he was shooting with his right hand with a handgun (his Tec 9).  Of course, we know Dylan to be left handed.  It’s quite possible, that Dylan was actually dicking around trying his hand at shooting his Tec rather sloppily using his non-dominant right hand while holding his double-barreled shot gun pointed at the floor in his left hand. Imagine the bullets just inaccurately zinging through the air randomly ricocheting and denting doors, lockers and the  payphone next to Lauren, fleeing students as well as shattering the main entrance front door’s window into an explosive spray of glass shards - all the while he’s laughing his ass off like it’s his death day party.  Dylan’s day of freedom and wild, reckless abandon. Then Lauren (and Brandi) startled him off to his peripheral left momentarily out of his forward focused shoot-out reverie for a brief moment.  In any event the first time Lauren noticed a part of him coming down the hall, she ran in the bathroom and he did not pursue her.

Part 1: Brandi Helling’s account

I Thought You Were Different: Book 2 (Part 17/?) (Avengers x reader)

Part 16

“So, just let me do the talking, okay?” Tony began, sitting just behind Steve as he piloted the jet towards their meeting in Geneva. “I’ve done this bureaucratic crap a million times, so I know how to play.”

“Fine by me, just work in my point of view here and there, if it’s not too hard to remember.”

“Oh, I think I’ve got it,” Tony scoffed, “goes something like, ‘screw the Accords and you asshats that wrote them’, right?”

Keep reading

Phan: Those Who Trust- Part 9

Wordcount: 2.7k
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: past non-con and abuse, nightmares
Summary: Dan used to be a submissive and now he’s just a broken shell of a man.
A/N: I wrote this during lunchbreak today and you are all lovely. For the anon concering the anxiety, if you think the angst might be too much for you just skip to the paragraph where the first two words are written in all caps! :)


Phil stood at the doorframe and looked into the dark room. With every second passing he felt like the walls were closing in on him as Dan’s screams turned louder, were mixed now with sobs as well. Not knowing what to do, he got out his phone and dialled PJ’s number, ignoring the fact that the clock showed four a.m..

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dibsonthat1d  asked:

9. “I could totally fight you with my bare hands.” For niall bc this seems like it could be very cute and funny!! 😘

I hate that this took so long and it’s super short. But I hope it’s kinda what you had in mind anyway.

You sat on the sofa next to Niall after a long grueling day. All you wanted to do was kick your feet up, sit back and watch TV. Pizza and beer was the perfect dinner, and as you sipped your newly opened bottle and gave an audible sigh, Niall grabbed the remote control. You side-eyed him when he stopped channel surfing and landed on a soccer game. Clearing your throat, you got his attention.

“What?” he asked you.

“Seriously, Niall?” you rolled your eyes. “We can’t watch something else? Anything else?”

Niall shrugged. “I just wanted to see the score.”

When you didn’t respond, he groaned. “Fine, we can see what else is on.”

“Thank you,” you said, biting into your pizza. Even though Niall was flipping through the channels so fast it made you dizzy, you caught a glimpse of Molly Ringwald and Emilio Estevez. “Ooh ooh! Go back!”

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thestaffofra  asked:

My kindle used to autocorrect "mei" as MRI, in all caps just like that. And it still hasn't caught onto lanfan ("land fan" Thank you autocorrect that is exactly what I wanted to do. Talk about ground-based cooling devices. Honestly what would I do without you)[sorry for salt]

Oh my god Vi haha I’m so thankful that my Droid had a personal dictionary so I could add words without it autocorrecting. Also I dislike Samsung’s autocorrect software. It’s very subpar to my old phone. I’ve tweaked the settings to be what should be functionally the same as my old phone and I’m disappointed. It’s not nearly as user friendly. Although maybe it just needs more time to learn my speech habits.
The one that is really irking me is when I go to type liKE THIS if I capitalize mid-sentence it tries to capitalize the whole word. Like no. That is not what I want, phone. And its corrections at punctuation is poor as well. It also underlines anything it autocorrects and I get that it’s so you can see and fix any errors it made but instead I just have a wall of underlined words haha. Also if it autocorrects and I go back and change it to what I wanted, it still tries to correct it back unless I hit a goddamn check mark to tell it that I mean what I wrote.
And, if I wrote something one way once it will attempt to write it that way every time. For example, the first time I typed goddamn on this phone I did it in all caps, and now it tries to autocorrect it to all caps every time I type it. It’s really…just not good.

Also sorry for ranting omg I’m feeling real salty about this phone’s autocorrect/predictive text software.

For him.

These are the poems I wrote for him.

I met him almost three years ago. I still remember the cold November air and his yellow coat that day. He is one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met, and for a while I thought maybe we would end up together. These are the poems I wrote about him- the first half are the poems I wrote in 2014, the second half the poems I wrote in 2016 when he and I met again.


Part I. two thousand and fourteen

She closed her eyes, held back a smile
And though she did not know-
Though there were miles and miles
And days and nights to experience first
A quiet voice,
Just the tiniest voice
Spoke up inside,

“It could be

One day-

It could be love.”


side by side
in a crowded car
our arms touched and
i felt it in every inch
of my silent soul
smiling out the window
voices fading into the background,
just you and me, barely touching
my eyes on the horizon,
my heart in flames.


He leaves
For days and days
Always, always
Keeps me waiting
I’ve given up on him
A thousand times
Just to run right back
With a ready smile
I cry by myself
Soaking deep in his silence
And then I laugh and sigh
When he comes back with a smile
I wish I could stop,
Wish I knew what he was doing
I can’t read his thoughts
I don’t know what he’s thinking
I don’t know what to do
I don’t know what to say
As I wonder how much more
I can possibly take.


[i wrote this in London :) ]

He has this way
When he smiles
He tilts his head slightly to the side
And looks inquiringly into my eyes
And thinking of it now
I can barely stay inside this car
I want to run into the sunlit street
Fling my hands in the air and
Dance for the joy of knowing him,
For the joy of being the one
He is trying to figure out.


I put away the t-shirt you gave me today
Top shelf of my closet
I guess it’s me saying
For now, I know that
We don’t work
But maybe someday
I will say differently.


Three months.

It wasn’t long.

I can’t say it meant much, just your average
Hopes soaring, hopes crushed
A handsome face with a shy smile and deep brown eyes
I thought he was going to be
I thought he was going to give me a
I thought he wanted to
Know my heart, know who I was
Underneath the outer layers,
Peeled back to the raw soul

If only, if only

Those three months are simply wind chimes now-
An ancient, wistful song
Trickling through
The noise of busy days and stuffed calendar pages
I can’t hear his voice in my ears so much anymore
I can’t say that I’ve shed tears
I can’t say that I put my whole heart into him

He said to me,
“Depth over distance,”
But he never showed me the depths of what his heart contained
And the distance grew each day,
Silence stacked
A thousand and seventy
Miles high

Except for-
The one night
The one night I could write songs about
The one night I will remember forever

He came just before eight
It was cold that night and he was nervous
We went outside by a small fire
He sat so far from me and
Into the quiet flames he gazed
He opened up his fearful heart
And trusted me with
A glimpse into
The struggles he faced,
The people who have hurt him,
The girl who broke his heart

I sat, breathless, eyes wide at the fragile truths he breathed into my honored eardrums

I showed him little pieces of my heart, too,
And for a silent second
In the April air
I felt our souls lift
Out of our bodies
And meet, mid-air

He looked at his watch and
We were late
We ran to his car
My teeth chattered in the cold
Like silly nutcrackers
And he offered me his scarf to stay warm

In the car we drove
We talked about country music
He teased me
And my cheeks burned
When he used my first name,

“Oh, Katherine,”
He said
And I sucked in my breath, heart pounding like a runaway horse
Staring out the window in his car at empty, nighttime city streets
Feeling perfectly placed
Next to him

At the church
We stood side by side
Silence so thick
You could taste it
Glorious, gold candlelight
Glowing through the impending darkness

I looked up to the Lord
And I thanked Him with all the thankfulness
In my toes and arms and teeth and shoes

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

And we stood solitary
Until he turned and embraced me
With that innocent smile
And a warm touch

My heart melted
Months of icy snow-caps
All in a single embrace

That night I could have sworn
We were onto something
For when he walked me to my door
He said,
“Until next time,”

And I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes
Something that made my knees weak
As I closed the door, breathed out a deep sigh, smiling like a naive child,
All I could say was
“Oh, my, oh, my.”

Two weeks.

It isn’t long
Until the person you were falling for
Starts to forget about you
And you can feel it in the air, all around you
In your silent phone that refuses to ring

Then it feels like two years.

Hopes compressed
Into a now-tight chest
I close my eyes and let plans and people and poems and pretty moments swallow me
I practice the art of letting go
I pretend not to care
That you are gone
I try not to feel stupid
That I got so excited

I refuse to dwell on nagging questions
Such as

What happened?

Did I do something wrong?

I’ll never have the answers to my questions
For only you hold the key
And my pride keeps me silent
My common sense keeps me from reaching out,
From searching for a way to start a fire
In a drenching rain storm

But even in the monsoon, I can’t help but wonder

How is it
That you don’t care
After that night?



The final night
Of your voice echoing
In the melting rays of twilight
Spilling lazily under the hills and valleys
I watched the colors grow
From pale gold to deep indigo
I searched for you within the stars
A last flare to light up a long-lonely sky

But I didn’t find anything
Just a quiet ache between my heart and my stomach
I haven’t quite digested your absence yet
But maybe when I wake up
The birds will sing louder
The sun will bathe me in her radiant light
And within the beauty around me
Sprinkled generously with a warmth like melted gold

You’ll be gone

And I’ll drive the miles back to my home
Leaving you in the hills where we said goodbye.


Part II. two thousand and sixteen.


It all started with his dark brown eyes
And the way he looked at me from the crowd when I was up on stage
I smiled back at him,
Giddy and nervous,
Surprised that someone so handsome would notice me

Why have I always been so cruel to myself-
So dismissive and discouraging?
“He will never like you,”
Says a harsh, cold voice in my head
And when he does
It feels like it isn’t real-
Like a package delivered to my house
For the neighbor next door
My hands always shake
My stomach always twists into a heavy knot
That keeps me awake night after night
Scared that he will find out that I’m
Not really worthy of him and his beauty

I see us in the coffee shop
And you are mostly so kind and such a gentleman
But when I share sheepish compliments with you
You just sit there smiling blankly, soaking it all in
It seems a bit strange
For you didn’t have many sweet words to share back
And I sink into my seat
Feeling small compared to your glory-
The glory I assigned you
While I was preoccupied with my own unworthiness

I find it a little bit ironic
That the time you gave me the most attention
Was in the year and a half I had forgotten you
I was wrapped up in falling for other bleak hearts
Making them into masterpieces
Myself, the master artist-
Chipping away at flaws and dysfunction
To find beauty and glory
I created it in others-
The missing pieces I could not find in myself
For I was too busy giving them away
And when I reached for my own
There was nothing left.

I want to say I’m hurt by you but I’m
Yesterday I was;
Your smooth tan skin
Your thick strong hands and dark eyes
And the way you smile at me and hug me twice so tightly and let your hands linger on my waist
then disappear into the airport to catch your flight and
Disappear from my life
We’ve done this before, haven’t we?
Leaving each other in airports and on planes
Empty promises that lead nowhere
You wanted to take a picture with me but I don’t know why you’d want to remember this
When I can already feel you forgetting about me

I’m not capable of what this would call for-
Waiting and praying for you to wake up and see me as beautiful and worthy of your love and
Worthy of trying your best to be with me
Of trying to overcome distance and fear and old scars from your past hurts

I can’t I can’t I can’t be that
I won’t be that
I won’t hold my head under the water til my lips are blue
Won’t put my hands in the fire and let myself feel the searing burns and blisters
Your heart is reckless and your heart is afraid
You speak to me in a voice that sounds almost like love
But it’s not
And I don’t hold that against you,
Won’t let it stop me from forgiving you
I’ll always stubbornly see the beauty in you

I just


I am sorry.

Three years later and -
this is goodbye.



t h r e e y e a r s

every time i see those pictures of you
all i can think is,
“not mine. not mine. not mine.”
i don’t know if it’s because
it’s been a week and
we still haven’t talked
and it feels like you don’t care
it feels like you’re not trying
and that makes me feel scared

or if maybe through this all
i’ve come to realize that you aren’t mine and you were never mine and
if you were
you would have come for me
somewhere in these three years between us.


I have been
Dry heaving
And drinking coffee all week

So nervous
So twisted up
So excited
So hopeful
So terribly afraid and
So fragile and jittery
So quavery, alive
In my fingertips and toes and my wide eyes

I want you but
I don’t know if you want me.


The only thing that hurts worse than
Knowing that he doesn’t care
Is knowing that
He does.



Where it ends.

we talked
last night
my eyes are still puffy this morning
from crying

maybe one day you’ll regret it
and maybe one day this will all change
but i don’t see that
and i know that
letting you go was
the best thing for me to do

h u r t s
and not because you told me you can’t be with me-
it hurt when you said you loved me
it hurt when we both started crying
it hurt knowing you felt the same
even after these three years

i don’t know what to do
and i don’t know how to let you go
i just know that,
i love you so deep and
i truly and sincerely hope that
you will be happy.


Because I was listening to One Direction ‘Perfect’ and all I could think about was these two! I was going to make a music video but this was quicker and I’m being lazy at the moment! ;)

(PS I have like every screen cap I come across on a daily basis from Tumblr, Google and other places just saved to my phone, so credit to whoever took these and thank you! :) )

A Fanfiction thing? (Based off a text)

((based off this text))

Peridot stared at her phone, eyes growing ever larger in horror. She did not know that number, but she knew that writing style. Only the Pearl would write with such perfect, such impeccable grammar.

Peridot did the first thing that came to her mind. Instead of giving some snarky response to the Pearl, she just typed, “new phone who dis”, and sent it. Peridot put her phone facedown, and mulled this over.

Who GAVE her number to the bird clod, anyway? Lapis was at the bottom of the ocean, so probably not her. Jasper…was also at the bottom of the ocean, but the possibility seemed even less likely. Peridot would find this out. She had to.

But, first she would text Yellow Diamond. If the Crystal clods knew her number, what else did they know? Her location? Her movements, her tactics?

Frantically, Peridot picked her phone back up, and texted to Yellow Diamond, “MOM you have to get me NOW they know my phone number!!!!!”

With extra exclamation points.

Yellow Diamond did not take long to respond, but Peridot was dismayed at the sarcastic, utterly familiar reply.

“new phone who dis" read Yellow Diamond’s text.

Peridot let out a scream of frustration, furiously typed a response in all caps, slammed down her phone, and sulked for the next two hours.

(Submission by senshiofthewild)

summernightsanddaisychains  asked:

Headcannon prompt- au wolfstar the parent trap- with teddy and Harry as their kids? I love your account!!! Xx

Okay. When I first got this message I immediately took a screen cap of it on my phone and sent it to my wife (who is also Wolfstar/Jeddy trash and RPs the Sirius to my Remus and the Teddy to my James II offline) and she had the same reaction I did.

“YES!!! DO IT!” 

So I have been sitting here for an hour trying to think of the best possible way to write this because there are so many angles I could take and this could be something huge but I don’t have the time to write out an entire fluffed out AU. Still, all of the possibilities of romance and hilarity overwhelmed me. 

What I’ve decided to do with this is make this initial post and gauge some interest. If enough people like it then I will open up requests to do additional scenes from the movie as a Wolfstar AU. When there becomes a sufficient amount of them (assuming that there are people who are genuinely interested in this being a continuous head canon story), I will make an index of the scenes in order as they happen in the movie and link it on my homepage. 

Also, please forgive me. It’s been somewhere in the ball park of fifteen years since I’ve seen Parent Trap. I’ll watch it again another time, but for now, this is what I’ve got.

One final note: for the sake of this AU, Harry is going to refer to Remus and Sirius as “Dad” and “Pop” respectively. Take note that this is my creative choice. Please don’t throw stones at me for it. 

(Also, thank you so much for the compliment! I’m glad you love it!! <3) 


  • Sirius couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It had to be a dream. Yes. A dream. He must have fallen asleep in his hotel room and he must be dreaming.
  • Because there was no way that Remus Lupin is standing on the other side of the room. There was no chance in hell that he looked even more stunning than he did all those years ago.
  • And there was no way in hell that his boys, their boys, were standing beside him. 
  • He took several steps closer. None of them realized he was even there.
  • They chatted and laughed and he couldn’t help but smile because Harry was positively beaming. 
  • It had been years since he had seen Harry smile like that. 
  • Sirius looked at the other boy, his other son. 
  • There was a stark difference in Teddy compared to Harry now that he saw them side by side. He was more lean, and his limbs were lanky as he grabbed Harry’s hands and spoke candidly. 
  • And was his hair…?
  • That was definitely turquoise hair. 
  • He focused back on Remus. 
  • The days of shabby, oversized sweaters and messy hair were gone and in its place were pressed trousers and a sharp blazer and his hair was combed and parted neatly. 
  • “Pop!” 
  • Sirius’s eyes darted back to Harry and watched as he and Teddy ran to his side. 
  • “Hey! What’s all this?”
  • “Hello, Sirius.” 
  • Sirius’s throat tightened. Suddenly he was nervous and he could feel the back of his neck ignite with a certain flush that only Remus Lupin had ever been able to inflict him with. 
  • Somehow he managed to swallow the lump that had risen and the words stumbled from his lips.
  • “H-Hi, Remus.” 

  • Remus went rigid as soon as he felt a familiar gaze on his back. 
  • He felt frozen, terrified to move but also fighting to hold himself back.
  • If he was being completely honest, he would admit that he had missed Sirius. He had missed the way their eyes would lock as they slow danced to music that wasn’t there. He missed the giggles they shared late at night after tucking in their sons as they wound day from their day. 
  • And more than anything, he missed being wrapped in those protective, loving arms. 
  • “He’s here!” Teddy whispered to Harry and they both grin. 
  • It was still so surreal to see the pair of them together again. Never in a million years did he imagine he would live to see it. 
  • The smile on Teddy’s lips lit up all of his features. It had been a long time since Teddy had looked so happy.
  • Maybe they should have worked it out. They should have stayed together, if for no other reason than to keep their boys together. 
  • And Teddy had deserved to know Sirius. Harry had deserved to know who he was. 
  • Maybe they were selfish. Yes. They were definitely selfish. 
  • “Dad, aren’t you going to say hello?” 
  • Remus froze again. Yes, he supposed he did have to say something. After all, he had been unknowingly housing Harry for the last few weeks in London. Plus he should apologize for the mix up. He should have realized…
  • “Pop!” Harry exclaimed and Remus had no time to react before they were running off.
  • “Hey! What’s all this?” 
  • That voice. That silky, deep, magical voice hit Remus in chest so hard that he nearly had the wind knocked out of him, but he was cornered. He was expecting an explanation. 
  • Finally, he turned to face him. 
  • Cargo shorts fell low on his hips and a cheesy Hawaiian shirt hung open from his shoulders, exposing his chest.
  • Remus had to force himself to keep breathing. 
  • It was now or never. 
  • “Hello, Sirius.”
  • “H-Hi, Remus.”
Soulmate AU #1: Steve (4)

it’s back! and it’s confused, but breathing. 

new layers, new depths, new issues FOR SOME PEOPLE WOW and lets not forget to address the dancing lemur: mark sharing sites (like dating sites but with better marriage rates)

You curled around yourself, hidden under the blankets with your breath stuttering in and out in short, irregular puffs.

The third anniversary.

Your heart ached sharply for a moment and you gasped, fingers digging against the sheets and your sleep shirt. Moaning softly, you curled tighter and tried to shut out your own thoughts, your own doubts, the insanity that came.

You’d heard of it before, people going crazy without their soulmates. You’d seen signs of it, signs that sometimes never went away. But it was rare enough, at least one in nine hundred that didn’t find their soul mate within 6 years. You hadn’t expected to get it, or even feel signs at half the mean term.

You heard the lock click on your door and you moaned softly again.

“Y/N?” Steve called softly and you made a whining noise that had him padding closer to your blanket coated body lump. “Y/N, something’s wrong.”

You didn’t want to deal with it. You didn’t feel like being Steves crutch again. You loved being his friend, making fun of him, hanging out with Sam, but today was your day. Your day to mourn and suffer- alone.

“Go die.” You hissed from your cave and you felt his weight settle on the bed beside you, your breaths becoming more regular, despite the shortness and speed.

“I’ve tried, you know that. What’s wrong?” He asked gently and you growl groaned, dragging a concerned noise from him.

“I thought something was wrong.” You snarled back, not peeling the blankets away. Best to stay hidden, no need for him to see the raw ache on your face, nor the tears that you didn’t know were trailing down your face.

“It can wait. Tell me what’s wrong with you, I’ll fix it.” You laugh bitterly at the sentiment, curling tighter into yourself, if possible.

“I haven’t found my soul mate, and I’m feeling signs of it.” You choke out, amazed that you were even able to say it, though if you were going to tell someone, he’d be on the list.

“You’re feeling signs?” His asks breathlessly, panic clear and you hiccup.

“Not too much. I don’t know what it’s going to be, I don’t want to risk it.” You answer, voice steadier and the ache has abated some.

Steve shuffles on the bed and you feel the blankets being peeled back some. As they reach your face, you turn toward the mattress, hiding your tear stained cheeks and Steve clucks.

“Y/N.” He begs and you can feel the lazer gaze of his worry and it hurts.

“Steve.” You copy, voice exactly the same and he sighs deeply, the sound of two thunks hitting the floor before he’s climbing under your sheets and wrapping you in his arms.

“I have a soul mark, you know.” Steve whispers to you, the blankets settling over your heads and the light disappearing. You pull back enough that you think you’re looking at his face, though your fingers cling to his sleeves.

“Yeah. Was it for Peggy?” You ask softly, an ache hitting you at the thought. You attribute this to the thought of dying before your mate, of leaving them alone in this world.

“No. I didn’t have it back then.” His breath blows across your face when he sighs. “It makes me wonder sometimes- would I never have had a soul mate if I’d survived the war?”

“How long are you going to live for, though?” You counter and you can feel him thinking about it, that maybe the person for him was always the person for him, even before they existed and without intervention.

“How long have you had it?” He asks gently and you wince, his palms pulling you slightly closer at the action.

“This is three years today.”

He swears and you smile despite yourself. “Only three years?”

“I don’t understand it either.” You whimper, and you feel the fresh tears escape you. Steves hands reel you in once more, the two of you now touching everywhere and clutching each other harshly.

He doesn’t offer promises, doesn’t offer platitudes. He knows, and you know, this isn’t something he can fix, it’s not something either of you can fix. Instead, he holds you tight and you let the ache overcome you. With him, it’s not so bad.

You blink your sticky eyes open, hands reaching unconsciously before you feel a burn in your chest. Right. You’re alone.

Grumbling softly, you sit up and try to steady your breathing, only to see Steve sitting at your laptop.

“Why is your password Artist?” Steve calls curiously and you hiss sharply.

“My soulmate. They’re an artist.” You grumble, crawling down the sheets and stepping up to peek over his shoulder. You can’t help the shot of pride that fills your voice. “I bet they’re damned good, too.”

“An FMM site.” He explains softly and you grimace. Unconsciously closing the palm that your mark sits on.

“They’re not really safe…” You warn dubiously but he ignores you, still trawling through the pages of images. Your heart breaks for them all, short descriptions below saying how long it’s been there, a name and a state/country.

“This one’s automated, so you have to take a picture of your mark for them to match you.” Steve offers and you sigh, returning to the pillows.

You don’t admit to using those sites, that you’re on every one you know of and yet there’s still nothing. Peeking down at the mark, you sigh resignedly.

“I’m going to have to follow the compass.” You tell Steve and he grumbles softly, not listening.

“Steve?” You call and he hums. Angrily, you throw the stress ball by your bedside at him, hitting him square in the back of the head. When he turns to you, he’s scowling and you scowl right back.

“I’m going off the grid for a while, I’m going to follow the compass I think.” You sigh and he frowns.

“That’s the most dangerous way to do it.”

“I’m the most dangerous person to live.” You boast and he gives you a look.

“Because you’re unstable and highly trained with access to things you shouldn’t have.” He grunts grumpily, clicking away once more.

“Yeah, yeah, Mr Worth Millions And Wants To Die.” You snap back, throwing the blankets over your head as your chest flashes a sharp burst of pain.

“I’ll get us some lunch.” Steve says unhappily, oblivious to your silent pain, as he ducks out your door and closes it behind him.  

Maybe you’d run away first. Run far away- without leaving the country. And work from there. Some distance from everyone might do you good. Your eyes dart to the door that Steve just left through and you chew your lip.

Choosing, you dive under the bed and drag out the bag. Darting for your closet, you stick the brim of a hat between your teeth, throwing a shirt over your shoulder while you slip on pants. Tucking a pair of socks into your pocket, you pull on the shirt and tuck the shoes into your armpit. Picking up the bag, you slip on the cap.

“Give me half an hour head start.” You tell FRIDAY, not that she’ll obey. For all your hacking, you’re no Stark.

And you’ve been too long. Snatching up your phone, earphones and wallet, you dart out the door and take the long way, to the second elevator bay. As long as you didn’t encounter anyone, you could clear your head. Clear your heart.

You just needed a little distance- then you could come home.

I’ll have you lot know, my timeline work is amazing. (it really was three years even though i just randomly chose the year amount) because this is set right before WS obv and thats two years after Avengers which is less than a year (less than 5 months actually) after he wakes up