we were not small or great but grown

She said my name first!

A/N: This is backstory #2 to the imagines rewrite I’m doing. The first backstory & the imagines to the rewrite can be found here. This is basically more big brother fluff and a wee bit of parental angst, nothing aimed towards the kids though. Enjoy!

Dean’s age-13

Sam’s age- 8

Reader’s age-7 months

All images are from google

Sam and Dean watched you crawl across the living room of Bobby’s house, ever since you were born your mother, Meredith, and you had been staying there; keeping safe while John took Sam and Dean around with him on hunts. Occasionally he would leave them behind at Bobby’s with you for a few weeks, but he would always return back for them, and spend a few days with you and your mom before hitting the road again.

Meredith was getting sick of it, she was a hunter too, on a path for revenge just like John. She wanted to go out and find the werewolves that attacked her family; killing her husband and two young children. Right now she was in the kitchen arguing with John over going back on hunts again.

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Why Being Boring is Awesome

In his advice book for creatives (Steal like an Artist), Austin Kleon has a chapter titled, “Be Boring.”

“Be boring,” Kleon says. “It’s the only way anything gets done.”

“I’m a boring guy,” he goes on, “with a nine-to-five job in a quiet neighborhood with his wife and his dog.”

Like Kleon, I’m a boring person. I do the exact same thing every day or every week. I haven’t been on a trip that wasn’t writing related in years. I almost never miss a day of work. Saturday mornings I work on my blog and every Sunday I go to church. It’s a good thing I’m a Hufflepuff, because I have the tenacity of a rock.

But things get done. (And money gets saved.)

Once in a while, I get messages from people online that go something like this:

Wow! I’ve read all the things you’ve done and what you are doing now, and all I can say is that I wish I were you and doing what you are doing!

I’m always flattered of course and appreciate each and every one of them.

But all the “cool” stuff other people see lasts about a second. They’re cool, so I share them. But most days I’m hunched over a computer for 7-8 hours. On weekdays I literally talk to 2-3 different people (I don’t have coworkers). To many people who look at me and my lifestyle, I appear utterly boring. In fact, to many outsiders, I give off the false appearance of utter stagnation. (And trust me, some of them let me know.)

I have a friend who is always out on adventures. It’s great. If he had any idea how boring I am, he might have different thoughts about our friendship …

But being boring can be awesome. Just as canyons are slowly carved out day after day, year after year, so is any “boring” productive thing you do strengthened and refined day after day, year after year.

I remember when I started blogging years ago, I looked at my friends’ blogs that were about 5 years old at the time and was a bit envious of their followers, commenters, and big backlogs. Many of those friends have moved onto other things, and that’s great. Strangely, soon my blog will be as old as theirs were at that time. Now I have my own followers, commenters, and a big backlog. Week by week this place has grown. When I began, I could hardly imagine writing so many posts. It felt so far away. But by being boring (read: consistent), week after week, it got there.

The same is true of any small, productive thing we do consistently. I’ve been doing yoga almost every day this year. I only do it for 20-30 minutes, and I don’t even leave home. I just follow yoga instructors on Youtube. Watching some of them, I feel a little envious of their flexibility and mobility. But no one got to that point overnight. Day after day, year after year, they were consistent.

I’m sure people come up to them, and say, “Wow! I wish I could do what you could do!” And the truth is, most of them can–if they are willing to put in the few minutes regularly, week after week, year after year. But often when people make such comments, they don’t fully fathom the patience, work, and tenacity it took to get there, which are all “boring” traits.

In a strange way, it seems you can accomplish almost anything, if you are boring.

Boring isn’t necessarily the same as being lazy. Though if you are boring by being lazy day after day, you will reap those “benefits” also.

People who are boring in the context I’m referring to understand this scripture:

Now ye may suppose that this is foolishness in me; but behold I say unto you, that by small and simple things are great things brought to pass

To some of the world, I may seem foolish, doing the same things day after day. In fact, 6-7 years ago, I had a friend who honestly had the attitude that working hard at something you want is stupid and unnecessary. That person would even point out others who were working hard in derogatory ways. Last year, when that friend saw some of the “cool” things I was doing, they came to me and asked point-blank, “How do I get to do what you are doing?”

True story.

The reality is, I’ve learned a lot of significant things being boring. I’ve learned a lot about myself, human nature, society, and ideas. There is something about long-term (but productive) stability that clears your vision in ways other things can’t. I don’t know if I would have believed it if I hadn’t experienced it firsthand.

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Girl’s talk boy’s! Calum

Words: 2.4k

Warning: smut

Lyric: Do you say that I’m a sweetheart?
Do you say that I’m a freak?


“How do you even afford this type of wine, Y/N?!” My friend, Amanda scoffs throwing her head back to drink the last of her wine.

“Because she works her ass off, unlike you.” Grace, my best friend smiled sarcastically at her. Amanda opened her mouth to spit something back at her but backed out when Grace cocked her eyebrow with a ‘don’t even try me bitch’ look.

“Just drink the bloody wine,” I laughed, shaking my head at them as Yasmine dropped her legs in my lap. Me and my three best friends did this once a month just a girly night. We didn’t get to see each other much due to work and priorities. Amanda had a small child, Liam he was the cutest. Me and Grace met when we were 8 and I’ve watched her grown from a nerdy chubby girl who was insecure about herself to a beautiful curvy woman with a husband, Chae he was good to her and a nice man. Yasmin became friends with me and Grace when we were 12 and starting high school. She had bright pink hair and no friends from her junior school. So me and Grace took her under our wing and became great friends, now her pink hair was blonde and had grown out, she wasn’t married but her girlfriend Becky and her are off to travel the world.

Amanda and I met when we were 16, she had moved schools coming from a very posh family. She was by far the bitchiest and snobbiest. Although we loved her very much when she was being nice(which is very rare). Today though it seemed Amanda was cranky, maybe Liam had kept her up all night. Who knows, she’s not a very feelings person.

“So, Miss Y/L/N, what’s going on in the land of Calum and Y/N?” Yasmine smiled sweetly, putting her wine glass on the coffee table. Grace tucked her feet under herself and Amanda muffled her groan and leaning back on the worn out sofa across from the three of us.

“It’s amazing he’s the sweetest” I smiled my mind wandering to Calum, he was the best boyfriend I could have asked for. We had been dating three years and he was my first and only love. I was a stubborn bitch back then, when it came down to things and I had my walls up. But as soon as I met Calum I let him in and it was the best decision of my life. Currently he was probably working out down in the basement, he had his own mini gym. 

“When are you getting married?” Yasmin laughed. I shook my head knowing that Calum didn’t believe in marriage and that it would never happen no matter how much I wanted these three girls to be my bridesmaids. I smiled at Grace, she knew why I wouldn’t answer I told her everything. 

“What’s the sex like? That man is gorgeous” Grace half moaned, rolling her eyes back. Yasmin laughed along with her, giving her a gentle push to her shoulder and looked at me.

“That’s none of your business” I grinned, drinking down some of the wine. The bitter taste bubbling on my tongue. I heard Amanda laugh half heartedly and her hair was being flicked over her shoulder. 

“Calum’s too sweet, does he even satisfy you? You look like you haven’t been fucked in a couple of years” Amanda chuckled, holding her bony hand to her chest and giving me a fake sympathetic look. I puckered my lip and furrowed my eyebrows. 

“No he’s a freak in the sheet’s. Trust me I’ve been fucked thoroughly in every part of this house. Even the seat you’re sitting on.” I snarled. Yasmin and Grace both choked on there wine, spluttering it all over there shirts. Amanda gave me a glare, standing up from the chair and sipping on her wine. I looked over to the door seeing Calum appear. He was wearing his black sweats low against his hip, showing off his slight v-line. His muscular arms were folded against his chest. His toned body was covered in sweat probably due to him been working out, the shininess making his body glimmer. His hair was all ruffled, curls hanging loose over his forehead and there was a massive smirk plastered on his lips. His eyes landed on mine as he sent a wink in my direction. 

“Hello ladies” Calum said, smiling at them. The three girls all said hello back politely and Amanda awkwardly sat on the corner of the chair she was sitting on. Calum tucked his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and walked forward slyly. 

“Sorry to cut this short girls, but I think me and Y/N need some alone time” He said shrugging his shoulders. Grace and Yasmin stood up giggling placing there glasses on the table. Amanda did the same but with a scowl on her face then walking past me pushing past Grace. She just laughed as Yasmin winked at me following Amanda out the house. 

“Have fun” Grace whispered walking away. I waited a few seconds before hearing the front door slam. I turned my head towards Calum who was now stood over me. I sat up straight pulling my top back down as it had risen up. I turned my body round so I was facing him. He placed both of his hands either side of me and leant down close to my ear, his breath fanning against my neck. His tender lips kissed the spot directly under my lobe which made me smile contently, the innocent kiss turned into his biting roughly onto my flesh. I whined placing my hands on his sweaty shoulders, he sucked roughly on the mark he made swirling his tongue around and his lips squeezing my skin. 

“Calum” I moaned. He lifted his head taking his lips off me, them being wet and a small bit puffy. His thumb stroked over the mark collecting the wetness drying off my skin. He looked at me with his big brown eye’s 

“So I’m a freak in the sheets you say?” Calum smirked, pulling me up from the sofa. He picked me up over his shoulder as I let out a small scream. I laughed, my stomach being pressed right against his shoulder as it dug into me every time I breathed out. He carried me up the stairs, every step my tummy bouncing on his shoulder. We got to the top of the stairs, he kicked open our door walking over to our bed and throwing me onto it. I let out a laugh as he pounced onto me. I ran my hands through his hair the softness running through my fingers. He smiled showing off his beautiful white teeth, he playfully bit onto my cheek pulling onto it. I pushed his face away from me, leaving little bite marks on my cheeks as they faded away slowly. 

“You know, I don’t like it when you talk about me like that” Calum groaned, he pushed my leg the other side of his body so he was situated between my legs. He grinded into me, placing his hands either side of my face. I leant up, pushing my lips to his. I instantly moaned loving the feeling of his lips against mine. Calum pushed me roughly back onto the bed by my shoulders, tearing my lips off of his. I looked up at him pouting, he just raised an eyebrow grinding his bulge into me. I moaned in pleasure, pushing my head into the pillow. Calum’s hands ran over my thin white t-shirt and over my boobs.

“You’re not wearing a bra?” He questioned squeezing my breasts in his hand. I shook my head no, I was pretty comfortable wearing my chill clothes around my friends so I didn’t feel the need in wearing underwear. Calum flicked my nipple under my shirt watching it go hard at the sensation. He leant down and licked over my white top, the texture of it made it see through when wet so you could see my nipple fully as he licked over it. He kissed it one last time before taking off my shirt pulling it over my head, my hair flung forward as he held it in his hand. He rolled it up and with his other hand he placed one of my hands above my head. I rested it there as he got my other hand placing it against my wrist. He tied my shirt around both my hands, tying the together. 

“This is for being a bad girl and telling your friends about our sex life” he growled, he pecked my lips and sat up straight. He was still situated between my legs as he pulled my body closer. He placed both his hands on my waist as my legs were flung over his hips. He grinded into me, his hands stroking over my bare waist. I moaned interlacing my hands together so that I wasn’t uncomfortable. He placed one of his hand through his hair as he sexily rotated his hips into me. Calum looked me in the eye and I saw an abundance of lust in them. 

“God you’re so sexy” He moaned

“Not so bad yourself handsome” I grinned. Calum slid his hands down my waist pulling my sweats along with them, he sat back pulling them slowly down my legs. I whined bending my legs as he moved forward again. He leant all the way down so his face was above mine. He softly moved his bugle against my naked core, I felt the whole length move against me. 

“You’re going to be the death of me” I mumbled tilting my head towards him. He laughed tucking his head into my neck and kissing over it. He continued his assault on my neck sucking on the same mark from earlier. 

“Calum c’mon I need you” I complained, kicking my feet around like a 5 year old. 

“Fine” he grumbled kissing over my neck one last time and sitting up. He looked down at his sweats untying the bow. 

“Look you got my sweats wet” He smirked. I rolled my eye’s as he pulled them down. His cock sprung up as he shuffled the clothing down his legs. He stroked his long thin cock, coming back towards me. He parted my legs sliding his cock along my folds. Calum pushed his length into me not giving me time to adjust as he rolled his hip’s into me. When Calum entered me I always felt full, his cock would always fill me up. I watched as his tummy clenched every time his cock drove into me. 

“You feel so tight and warm” he groaned. He ran his fingers through his hair, brushing it out of his sweating forehead. I was so hypnotised by his flexed arms and his golden hips moving in such a way inside my pussy. His cock was disappearing inside me making a wet sound as my juices ran along his cock. I circled my finger over my clit, feeling the pleasure all at once. 

I looked up at Calum, a small bead of sweat running down his cheek which could easily mistaken for a tear if it wasn’t so hot in the room. Not only did I have so much lust for this man I loved him, I’m willing to give him my everything for the rest of my life. He must have sensed something was up as he leant down grinding his cock into me. His brown eye’s flickered from my lips to my eyes and I saw so much love in them.

“I love you” he groaned, pumping his hard cock into me. His lips hovered over mine as his breath fanned against my lips. I fluttered my eyelashes against my cheeks and being as cute as possible. The butterflies erupted in my stomach from feels and from his tip grazing my g-spot. 

“I love you more” I whimpered looking up at him and smiling, loving this view of him above me. He pushed his lips to mine kissing me passionately, he was smiling into my lips. Calum’s lips were so smooth against mine and they slotted into mine like a puzzle piece. He reached up blindly untying my hands from the restraint, my hand’s instantly flew to his face pulling his cheeks closer to me. His tongue massaged mine, sucking onto it. He pulled away kissing the side of my mouth leaving me a mess benching him wanting his mouth back on mine. He rammed his cock into me, speeding up his movements as he hit my g-spot. His hands stroked down my body as he grabbed my breasts thrusting into me. I moved my legs so they were around him and he hit me at a deeper angle. I felt my high approach as Calum kneaded my ass in his hands thrusting into me.

“Cal” I whimpered. I came around him, tightening my leg grip around his waist. My vision went blurry for a second before looking up at Calum. His head thrown all the way back, if it was back any further it would fall off his body. His juicy pink lips parted as he inhaled the air around us. I felt him cum shoot inside me as he pulled out last minute, the last drops of cum dribbling down his cock. He fell beside me his body heaving from his orgasm, I was still catching up on my breath too. I turned to the side looking at Calum, he was staring up at the ceiling smiling to himself. He moved up on his elbows so he was sitting up and opened up his bedside draw, moving his hand around in the drawer. I sat up and wrapped my arm around his waist.

“Y/N” he whispered stopping his movements in the drawer. I looked up at him, his beautiful jaw line and his brown eyes looking down at me. I took in the moment leaning up and kissing him sweetly. He pulled his hand out the drawer with a velvet black box, I looked down at it and my heart skipped a beat.

“I was going to do this as a big thing and have you family and my family come over and have a party. But I can’t think of a better moment to do this and honestly I can’t wait a week without having you by my side. Before I met you I never believed in marriage and it being a thing to show how much you love someone. But when I met you that changed, I get dreams of you walking down the isle and I want my dream to become a reality. So Y/N, will you marry me, Sweetheart?”

When the day met the Night - Part Two, Chapter Twenty Eight

Two years on….
“I can’t work with so many people everywhere” huffed the hairstylist. I was sitting in front of the mirror in my bedroom in London. There was a stylist, hairstylist, make up artist and everyone else who was coming and going. At the moment Jared was lying on the bed with Willow, we could hear Beau playing in his room and Bluebell was standing next to me brushing her hair and trying on jewellery. “Too bad” said Jared cheerfully from the bed, I looked at him through the mirror and he just grinned. “It’s fine Sarah, you’re almost finished then you can go” I said, she shook her head, “sorry Harper, I’m just not used to all the extra people in such a small space” she said apologetically. We’d been living in London for the past 12 months and despite Jared’s insistence on getting a great big place, I’d refused and we were in my small, but big enough, I thought, terrace. I nodded and soon enough she was done. “It’s 6.00 the car will be here in ten minutes” we heard Lucy’s voice wafting in from the corridor then she appeared. I stood up and looked at myself in the full length mirror, “you look beautiful” said Jared staring at me, “you do look lovely” she said, I nodded, I had a long red gown on, vintage, Antonio had found it for me. Very simple and beautiful. My hair which had grown, was hanging down my back in large loose curls. “Are you going to change?” she snapped at Jared, he rolled his eyes, “calm down, it will take me two minutes” he said climbing off the bed and disappearing into the walk in robe. True to his word he was back quickly with a black tuxedo on, sans tie, open white shirt and looking impossibly sexy. His stylist had been over earlier for his gorgeous hair, however he’d wanted to dress himself. “Oh you look so sexy” I said breathlessly, he grinned as I stared at him. “Oh for goodness sakes, pull yourself together” said Lucy groaning, Bluebell giggled, “she always does that when she looks at daddy” she said, “I can’t imagine why” she huffed, “daddy pretty” called out Lily from the end of the bed where she sat grinning. I laughed agreeing, he gathered her up into his arms smothering her with kisses and she squealed happily. The stylists made a few more adjustments to the dress until they were happy that it was perfect. We all made our way downstairs, a few selfies later and we heard the car arrive. “Bye my loves” I said kissing them all in turn, “we are going to stay up and watch you” said Bluebell, “okay but straight to bed afterwards” I said to them all, they nodded together and I looked to Talia who also nodded in agreement. “All alone at last” murmured Jared in the car, he leaned in and trailed small kisses along my neck up to my ear. “I know, I haven’t had a moments peace” I said sighing. He nodded, “well you can relax, for a little while after tonight” he said, “oh I can’t wait, speaking of which, I can’t wait” I said eagerly, “mmm me too, you’re a hard woman to tie down"  he smirked, I smiled slyly. "Yes you haven’t done that in a while” I whispered. A small groan escaped his throat, I leaned over and kissed him softly. “So, are you excited?” he said grinning, I shrugged, “I am, but I’ll be happy when it’s over” I said smiling nervously. “Yeah that’s how I felt” he said. I’d finally decided to go back to work, one little project that had taken all of three months to film. It and to my surprise, I, had become a huge deal very quickly and here I was in a car being driven to the Baftas. “Let’s do this baby” he said kissing me as the car pulled to a stop at the red carpet drop off point. He jumped out then held out his hand to help me out. The next half hour was surreal chatting to reporters and other nominees. I held his hand so tight that he squeezed back and whispered, “I won’t let go don’t worry”, I turned to him and he smiled that big beautiful smile and I melted. “So what are your plans now? Anything else in the pipeline?” asked one reporter, “ah no I’ll be having a break for a while now” I laughed glancing at Jared, he nodded a small smile on his lips. “We’ve got a busy summer coming up” he said. He wouldn’t elaborate further and very politely led me away to my relief. I smiled at him, “well we have” he said grinning, “yes” I said smiling knowingly.

About two weeks ago I was in the bathroom early one morning, brushing my teeth when a wave of nausea came over me. I was horrified, I couldn’t possibly be pregnant I had been on the pill and strictly never forgot to take it. I quietly locked the door and just to be sure I rummaged in the drawer and found a test. About five minutes later I was staring at the stick with its two lines and felt even more nauseous. I heard a bang against the door as Jared had obviously tried to come barreling in and found it locked, “what the fuck!” I heard him say, “why have you got the door locked?” he called out. “Can I have a minute of privacy for fucks sake!” I yelled back, my voice wavering as I tried to hold back tears. I wasn’t sure how he’d react, another baby, fuck. “What’s wrong?” he asked immediately, he knew me too well. “Nothing!” I said, “open up, please” he said in a quiet voice. I slowly unlocked the door and opened it a fraction, he looked at me curiously. “You okay?” he said, I shook my head, “please don’t be mad, it wasn’t my fault” I said quickly, “what wasn’t? what is it?” he said anxiously. I stepped back and pointed to the counter where the stick sat, waiting to be acknowledged. He walked over looked at it, looked at me, back at the stick and then said incredulously, “you gotta be fucking kidding me?” I covered my face with my hands, trying to hide the tears. Then I heard laughing, he was laughing, I looked up surprised. “I’m just too fucking potent!” he said really laughing now, “but….” I stammered. “But what? did you think I’d be angry?” he said, I nodded. “You knew I didn’t care if we had another baby, are you.. do you want to..?” he said quietly taking hold of my hands and looking into my eyes. “I don’t know, I wasn’t expecting it, I’m on the pill for goodness sakes” I said biting my lip. “Yeah, that’s obviously not working” he said laughing again. He pulled me in close and hugged me against his chest, “I’m actually really happy, but you need to be okay with it” he said in a soft voice. “It’s us, it’s their little brother or sister, I’m okay” I whispered, I felt him relax and he kissed my forehead. Suddenly it all felt right.

We took our seats and the ceremony started, as the evening wore on our little movie started to win a few categories. During one of the breaks Jared leant in and whispered, “it’s your category next, you ready?” I looked at him and shook my head, he grinned at me and gave me a swift kiss. The next few minutes were the most surreal I’ve ever experienced, I smiled as my name was mentioned and a clip of my performance played. I looked at Jared he leaned over kissing me on the cheek, suddenly I heard my name spoken a second time, “Harper, it’s you, you won” he whispered in my ear standing up and holding out his hand, I looked at him stunned and grasped it to stand. “You did it baby” he said wrapping his arms around me and pulling me in close, he kissed me and then stepped out of the way into the aisle to let me pass. I was shocked, he let go of my hand and grinned clapping wildly as I walked off and made my way up on stage to the applause of the crowd. It took me a minute to register what was happening then I smiled and started talking. Just as past winners had done I politely thanked, cast, crew, writers, directors and of course Lucy. Then came the part I had actually thought about, I looked out to find his gorgeous face beaming at me. “Thanks to my babies watching at home” I blew a kiss to the camera “I want to thank the most important person in my world, you’re my everything, you always keep me from falling and you help me navigate this crazy life, thank you Jared, I love you” I said smiling at him and I finished there, taking the presenters hand and making my way off stage. The next half hour was madness, photos backstage, interviews with the press. I just wanted to get back to see Jared. Finally he appeared, I excused myself from the reporter who’d monopolized me for the last five minutes and walked towards him. He wrapped his arms around me, the cameras clicked as he kissed me lightly, “God this is mad” I said smiling at him excitedly, he nodded. “I know it’s crazy baby” he laughed. The rest of the night was a blur, full of press and photos, we went to 3 different parties and were invited to a dozen more. Finally at 4.30 I surrendered and we headed home, “I’m exhausted” I said as I threw my shoes off in the hall quietly and we stumbled up the stairs. It was finally quiet, he closed the door to our bedroom, I put the statuette on the dresser looking at it for a moment then and I turned my back to him so he could unzip my dress and he helped me take it off. I threw it on the nearby chair and climbed into bed in my bra and panties. I watched him take off his clothes and he lay down next to me on the bed turning to face me. “It’s so nice and quiet” I whispered, he nodded, a small sexy smile on his lips. “I’m so glad I’m doing nothing for a while, a long while” I said. “Yeah especially now that I’ve knocked you up again, barefoot and pregnant, I gotta say, that’s how I like you” he said waggling his eyebrows. I raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t help grinning at him. “Really? I never figured you for a 60’s husband” I said surprised. “Yeah, I never thought I was either until you came along” he laughed. “Well I’ll obey you, that’s what good little wives do isn’t it?” Teasing him with a sickly sweet voice. “oh I’m counting on it” he said with a sexy voice. “Okay, I’m pregnant and I have needs that I’ve had to, suppress all day” I said in a desperate voice. “You mean you’ve been horny and you wanted me to fuck you all day? you should have said, I could have obliged at some point” he said with a sly smile on his face. I laughed, “mmmm, you know once is never enough” I shrugged laughing. He kissed me softly, his hand reaching up to grasp my neck and held me close as he deepened the kiss. I reached up and pushed him back onto the bed climbing over him to stand up and slip off my underwear. I watched licking my lips as he slipped off his jockeys sighing with pleasure, he was already hard and ready. I climbed back up, positioning myself over him, “wait, what about…. ?” he said grinning and raising an eyebrow, I shook my head, “No waiting, I’ve been hot and wet for you all day, I just want to fuck” I said, he nodded grinning and I pushed down impaling myself into his erection, groaning as he filled me completely, taking my breath away. His hands reached up to grab my breasts kneading them gently, his long fingers tweaking my nipples I leaned back my hands on his thighs biting my lip to stifle my cries as his hips pushed up to meet me and I felt him go deeper each time as I rode him faster and more erratic. Suddenly I felt my body start to shake, the intense pleasure shot through me and my orgasm took over. My breathing was hard and fast, I bit my lip to stop from screaming out. As I tried to slow down, his fingers dug into my hips, “keep going” he said in a hoarse voice, forcing me to continue and he thrust up hard a low growl escaping from his throat as he came, holding me firmly in place until the little aftershocks started to stop. I fell onto his chest, both of us covered in a fine sheen of sweat and still breathing hard. “I love you” I murmured sleepily, “me too” he said his fingers trailing up and down my back. What a ride.

Tagging - @nikkitasevoli @bradlea23 @spillinginkwithlove @spaceshipteam44 @rhina988 @iridescxntsolitude


Evangelist Roy Ratcliff met Jeffrey Dahmer in April 1994 and baptized him on May 10, 1994 on his request. He described Dahmer as an affable, genial, likable person. He felt like he was dealing with a small boy in a grown-up man’s body since he could get really excited and interested.

Roy: On the way, we walked by other prisoners who were coming by with mops and brooms and breeze cleaning devices and they looked up and the only one they saw was who they recognize was Jeff so they called out and very friendly in banter “Hey JD how’s it going?!” and he called back “I’m going to be baptized! This is great!”

They called him JD….

A New Addition

Anonymous asked: Hi lovely! Can I request a KiliXReader where the reader is his wife and she gives birth to a little boy, which they name after Thorin, and when he finds out cute Durin fam fluff happens? Thanks lovely❤️

Here you are, lovely! I hope you like it! I do not own the line of Durin. They are the property of J.R.R.Tolkien. 

Warnings: very brief mentions of birth; fluff!!! Everybody lives AU.

Pairings: Kili x wife!reader, mentions of Fili, Thorin and a special appearance by Dis. 

Originally posted by welcomeee-to-myy-world

After hours upon hours of pushing and yelling at Kili through a closed door, you finally held your baby boy in your arms. The midwife let your husband into the room and he was at your side in an instant. “Oh, Amrâlimê. Look at him,” he cooed and you could see that he was on the verge of tears. You wanted to roll your eyes, but you simply couldn’t. You found it hilarious that the very presence of an infant can turn a grown male into a blubbering mess.  

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Home Is Where The Heart Is

Part 2 of the 4:32 series (part 1) (part 2) (part 3 coming soon)

Summary: After moving out of the London apartment, Dan and Phil find themselves ready for the next stage of their life together.

Word count: 2k

Genre: Pure fluff

A/N: I decided to make 4:32 into a mini series! Its more a collection of drabbles even though this is 2k words that connect on from each other but can be read separately. Enjoy!

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Now the 60th year since you’ve been gone, today you turn 84 years old. Born to parents Mildred and Winton, on the 8th of February in 1931 in Marion Indiana and raised in the small farming town of Fairmount Indiana. You were raised by two wonderful families, an aunt and an uncle who loved you dearly, and grandparents who loved you equally the same. You graduated high school in 1949, having been a scholarly student, and liked by many; for you had a kindred spirit and a great many talents. All grown up and heading to New York City to find your calling soon after your high school graduation. you eventually created that famous actor, we all know and love as James Dean. A talented, eclectic, and a solitary individual. James Dean is indescribably one of no other, impossible to recreate. Today is not a day to focus on what took him away from us in his 24th year, but a day to celebrate the life he lived before that. Today we celebrate James Dean.

Happy Birthday angel.

February 8th, 1931-September 30th, 1955

Socrates and Cupid: A Dialogue (Part Three)

Socrates: I will try my best. First, suppose we were to ask an evolutionary biologist, what is love? This is what I hypothesize: Taking great care to ensure his scientific rigidness is not misinterpreted as cynicism—a care that I myself will not take in summarizing his belief—the evolutionary biologist will tell us that love is a cosmic deception; that is to say, love once awoke in the minds of the earliest humans as but a small kindle in the heart, and has since grown as the generations come and go, for the sheer purpose of prolonging our species. Do you understand?

Cupid: No!

Socrates: Because I have not explained this biologist’s point of view sufficiently, of course, so I will give a more mindful attempt. The biologist has been trained in her studies to view all things through the lens of evolution, and, begrudgingly, love can be no exception for her. So, in the strictest terms of evolutionary biology, she thinks to herself, why does love exist? And the answer is immediately apparent. Look before you now, dear Cupid, at the scores of couples down below, playing with their children, guiding them to grow strong, as their parents have done for them, and the parents of the parents before them. One could even go so far as to say love tricks us into having babies. And so I ask you: How many of these couples, do you suppose, would go through this trouble were it not for the love they feel for their kids, and the love they feel for their partners, who through good and bad take upon this endless responsibility by their sides. 

Cupid: Tehe! Not many at all! I have made the experience joyous for them, because they love each other. 

Socrates: This is the point our biologist wishes to make, and I can find no fault with this point—it is scientific and it is unbiased and it accounts for a great deal of the evolutionary purposes of love. But now, o chubby floating baby, let’s say we leave our biologist to her studies, and we find another with whom we may engage in conversation.

Cupid: Oh, you’re making me tingly, Socrates. Don’t make me wait—who will we ask about love next?

Socrates: We will ask my protégé, Plato, whom I miss dearly. In his typical fashion, he will transfix us with a beautiful story, so that through metaphor we may encounter a deeper truth. Here is his story: Humans were once creatures with two heads, four arms, and four legs, but upon angering the heavens, Zeus summoned his lightening to slice us all in two parts, and thus love is the journey we take in finding our other halves, in becoming whole again. 

Cupid: Tehehe. His metaphor tickles!

Socrates: The man had many metaphors, all of which tickled as much or even moreso than the one I have just summarized. This is why I miss him so dearly. But, since we are still speaking on the subject of love, I will move forward to two more people to whom we can ask our question. First, we will approach a shy young girl, who blushes at the prospect of conversation, but nevertheless we shall push forth and have her explain to us why she has fallen in love with a boy. Perhaps this boy is her new romantic partner or perhaps the boy is just a celebrity whom she will never personally know, yet whom she will love from the confines of her own home. Either scenario is sufficient for the question we will pose to her: Why do you love this boy?

Cupid: Fuck you, Socrates, tehehe! She won’t know—she can’t possibly know that I shot her with my arrow. It’s magic! 

Socrates: You are right, and I will therefore rephrase. Instead, we will ask her of the affects she has experienced from her newfound love.

Cupid: That’s better!

Socrates: What say she? As she perks up from the chance to talk of her love and her cheeks begin to glow, with brimming excitement will she not go on about how her man has made her feel special, has brought her out of her shell, and has allowed her to find meaning, an escape from her loneliness?

Cupid: She will, and I’ll shoot her with a thousand more arrows!

Socrates: And thus, for her, love is the esoteric sensation that causes her to withdraw from her shell of isolation, to integrate with another human and learn from his experiences. Hence, for her, love is growth. Finally, suppose we were to ask an old, rich man, who has come to experience all of the luxuries and freedom of financial well-being, what purpose love has brought upon him now. He will say that his love for a woman whom he has recently met—an aspiring model with nineteen years of age—has suppressed his boredom and has brought upon him a resurgence of the passion he once felt as a child. With delight, he will marry the young bride, and once the girl has reached the boring age of twenty-two, he will gladly cede to her half of his fortune in order that they should depart one another in divorce, for he has found a new love, freshly nineteen, who has again rekindled his passion and who he shall now marry.

Cupid: Tehehe, that’s the California Sunrise at work! You know my strains very well! 

Socrates: But do you see what has happened, dear Cupid: We have asked several people the question of what is love, and each has provided us with a different, though equally suffice, response.

Cupid: And suppose we were to ask Socrates? Tehe.

(…To be continued…)

Follow @zeezyzach for weekly Socratic dialogues


We ARMY’S need to understand some things. Such as being mature and respectful.

It wasn’t much like this until they blew up in 2015, and that’s when it seemed to go downhill for me. I’d like to say I’m truly disgusted in some of the ARMYs these days. It’s like you all think you own “oppa”, and you seem to fetishize Kpop idols and Koreans, which is disgusting - yet if someone tries to show support in a creative way, like cosplaying, which is totally fine - some ARMYs seem to lose it and bash them, which is contradicting themselves.

This behavior is not only affecting the reputation of our fandom and the way we are seen by other fandoms, but it’s also affecting BTS’s reputation. They’ll be known for having the most immature fandom, I swear. It’s already seeming to be like that. Keep in mind, like I said, this isn’t about every ARMY.

But you know who are you.Now, I know not every ARMY is immature and annoying, like myself, a few of my friends, and some of the fandom. But, a very large majority of the fandom is, especially since BTS sparked in popular in 2015. The fandom has grown, and that’s GREAT. But the behavior of the fans is a bit out of control, especially since many of the new fans are younger and don’t understand that BTS are people, not items for them to call “mine”.

Let me just say, I’m an ARMY myself in 2013, late 2014 and we were a tight nit fandom. We weren’t too big, but we weren’t too small either. Everyone was, for the most part, kind to each other—FOR THE MOST PART. And no one was very disrespectful to the group and disgusting (only liking the boys for their bodies, being disappointed they don’t have abs, etc…), you know the drill.

Not to mention that ARMY fans get bashed just for being ARMYs and that’s because other fandoms see a majority of ARMYs acting childish. They like to bunch us all together like we’re all like that, but we’re not. We just get dragged down along with the immature ones. I get bashed all the time just for being an ARMY and I’ve never been disrespectful in the k-pop fandom towards anyone. Sure, I’ve been in arguments, but it’s usually with people who can be in a mature argument. I don’t argue with people who can’t argue in a mature way—kind of like a debate, if you want to call it that.

What I am trying to say is be mature… be respectful…they are human beings and deserve to be given respect too. We dont want to hurt the boys. Lastly this isnt talking about EVERY ARMY.

You know who you are.

Spread the word.

"Something more 'girly'"

It’s Wednesday. I had the opening shift at work. Everything was lined up perfectly to let me to get comics today before my LCS closed. Everything was going great, I was chatting with the guy who owns the place about last night’s Agents of SHIELD, the upcoming Avengers half marathon, and adding stuff to my pull. You know, the usual. When this small family came in–a Dad and his two daughters.

He came up to the register where we were talking, and explained to the owner that he’d been letting his girls (probably around 7 and 5) read some of the comics he’d grown up with–Superman, Batman, Spider-Man–and he was looking for something very affordable that they’d like that was “something a bit more ‘girly.’” (The girls, who I later found out were Julia and Eleanor, pulled the BIGGEST faces at that.)

My LCS guy went out to try and show them a few things, and I had two titles immediately pop to mind–the Marvels, both Captain and Ms. So I suggested them to the owner, and he agreed–these girls needed Captain Marvel.

The Dad tried to immediately shoot it down–“No, that’s a guy, we’re looking for–”

We quickly corrected him. And I quickly stepped up to explain to the girls who Captain Marvel is. I told them how she’s super strong, and can fly, and that she shoots light from her fists! I told them that even Captain America listens to her. I told them that she’s traveling in space with her cat right now–because what else would you possibly want to take with you when you’re going to space??? And I explained how the past two issues were about Captain Marvel and her cat in space.

The Dad said they could pick either part one or part two. They looked and decided they wanted part one, issue 7. And maybe in a week or two they could come back and see if issue 8 was still in stock.

I told the girls I’d buy them issue 8. (I couldn’t NOT. You need part two!) They were so excited. Because Captain Marvel looked exactly how they wanted–like someone who was cool and strong and kicked butt! I told them they were going to love Princess Sparklefists.

After that it was all excited talk about getting to read it, and maybe next time they come back the next part will be out, how they’d swing in on Halloween to Trick or Treat for comics, and what their favorite heroes were (Rogue and Spider-Man/Batman), and who they were going to be for Halloween, and would we see each other again sometime at the comic shop?

I told them of course, and that next time they should look for Ms. Marvel. They seemed really excited about that too. Then they were out the door, waving and screaming goodbyes.

I’ve never had an experience like that in a comic shop before. I’m sure people who actually work in them do all the time. But seeing how excited they were, and knowing that those girls were going to be reading an awesome story and see a role model they could look up to? Was really incredible and humbling.

So thanks, Julia and Eleanor, for reminding me just how awesome and powerful comic books are.

anonymous asked:

Imagine Bucky seeing a teenage gay couple on tv/ in a movie for the first time and thinking back to him and steve as teenagers

He starts watching Glee because Sam says he’ll like the music- and Bucky, still relearning the nuances of expression and tone, doesn’t understand why he says it with an eyeroll and a sort of fond exasperation. The music is good, the sort that makes him tap his feet in time and wonder if he could learn modern dance as easily as he’d learned the lindy hop. The characters make him laugh, and Kurt… well.

He sees Steve, the old Steve, in those big doe eyes and delicate hands, in the way Kurt refuses to change for anyone, though every time the kid doesn’t fight back it feels deeply wrong, a sharp dissociation from the connections his brain is making. (Plus, Kurt has way better fashion sense and a way better singing voice.)

He gets so invested in Kurt’s storyline that he actually tears up a little when he meets Blaine- he can’t help it, the way Kurt looks at him makes Bucky’s heart ache with the familiarity of it. He remembers how many years he and Steve had spent sneaking glances, pretending they didn’t know exactly how they both felt about each other, talking about the adventures they’d have when they were older and out on their own and always under the words the sense of it’ll be easier then, when we’re grown up, maybe then we can be together the way we want to.

Bucky thinks now that they were pretty stupid to wait so long. So much wasted time. Maybe, he thinks, if they’d had friends like Kurt’s, someone would have talked some sense into them.

The first time Kurt and Blaine kiss (and isn’t that shocking, it’s not like Glee is some kind of small niche programming, everyone and their ancient great-grandmother seems to know about it) Bucky watches with his heart in his throat, and he’s seeing the characters on the screen but in his mind he’s seeing him and Steve, remembering Steve’s chapped lips and his hands gripping the back of Bucky’s shirt and the way he could feel Steve’s heart racing in his skinny chest and isn’t it funny how with all the gaping holes in his memory he can still call to mind every last detail of that first kiss?

He pauses Netflix, sets his tablet down on the coffee table, and goes to find Steve, whose lips and hands and chest don’t feel the same anymore, but whose kisses still make him feel the same way they always have.

anonymous asked:

How were the founders of the us genocidal maniacs? And also you can't blame them for owning slaves??? Basically everyone did? Do you think the Africans who sold the black slaves to them were racist too?

In order:

  • They decimated the native population. Fucking duh.
  • I absolutely can blame them for owning slaves. There were abolitionists at that time, some of which were among the founders (although they, aside from Benjamin Franklin who only sort of counts anyway because he didn’t become an abolitionist until he was old, have been marginalized in our recounting of history because it’s more comfortable to think of the founders as being the best of their time rather than dudes who had friends shouting in their ears, “SLAVERY IS WRONG! STOP THAT!” the whole time and chose to ignore it for their own benefit). Not to mention that slavery was a huge point of contention in the process of drafting the Constitution. You simultaneously want to revere these men as being near-deities, capable of masterfully defining the destiny of themselves and others, but also not smart enough to make their own decisions or brave enough to stand up for what’s right in the face of what’s popular. You want to give them all the praise in the world without holding them accountable for having made their own choices.
  • If basically everyone was putting out lit cigarettes in their own left eye, would you? “Everyone’s doing it” isn’t an excuse we accept from small children, so why should we accept it on behalf of grown adult men who, again, were already discussing at great length whether or not it should be legal?
  • The whole “Africans sold Africans as slaves” thing is misleading at best. Aside from the fact that Europe began to colonize areas of West Africa in the 1400s, decades before the beginning of chattel slavery, and were thus capable of kidnapping Africans to use as slaves, there’s the simple fact that the implications of the statement are so far removed from the reality that it’s difficult not to call it a lie in spite of it being technically true, in the same sense that the statement “Europeans sold Europeans as slaves” would be true if Romans sold Greek POWs to Gauls (i.e. true but meaningless). Tribes sold members of enemy tribes captured in war as slaves, almost certainly unaware that the Europeans were operating under a new form of race-based slavery (with race being defined by skin color rather than by national affiliation or origin). The only way “Africans sold Africans as slaves” means anything is if you falsely assume that Africa is a single nation whose citizens sold their fellow citizens, which is 100% counterfactual. Even if it wasn’t, though, Europeans didn’t have to buy African slaves. That was a decision they made, and they deserve the blame for it, the same way that I can’t blame 7 Eleven for selling me cigarettes that I make the decision to buy.

“Bonding, huh…he wanted to bond with me.” Helix popped a piece of leftover Halloween candy into her mouth. “Terrible shame, the whole thing. Doomed to fail from the first time we set eyes on one another. Still…kinda unexpected on his part. He never seemed all that invested in the first place. Then again, it’s hard for him to express that kind of emotion.”

She was drawing up a chart. There were things about dragon hoards she didn’t yet understand. The biggest one was comparative value. To a human, a small diamond was worth a great deal more than a large quartz. And a natural diamond more than a lab-grown one. But those values were completely artificial. White diamonds were plentiful, but the market was choked by monopolies. Lab-grown stones were exactly as high in quality as naturally created ones. So which was better for a dragon?

She needed to ask the goddess about this. And then she would ask Jon if he still wanted to bond.

They Don’t Know About Us by @josjournal
Pairing: Zayn/Liam
Rating: T

Zayn ducked his head to watch the sign as Liam drove underneath it and into his home for the next six weeks. Camp Inspiration was printed clearly, and he felt a little thrill run through him. 

Liam let out a low whistle as they pulled into the car park in front of the main building, a glass and wood structure that loomed three stories tall. “This place is posh, Zee.” He pointed towards a gate surrounding a sparkling pool. “The lake is a couple hundred yards that way- what’s the point of a pool?”

Zayn laughed. “I don’t know. I just hope they put as much money into their supplies and equipment as they did the buildings and amenities.”

Liam stopped the car, turning his body to look at Zayn. “At least I know you’ll be comfortable. Not like the bunks I’ll be staying in that were built before the turn of the century.”

Zayn’s laugh echoed inside of the car, although it felt a bit forced as he thought of Liam having to sleep somewhere other than beside him. “It’s not that bad. Plus, you’ll just be across the lake and we have the same days off.” He grabbed Liam’s hand, squeezing. “I’ll still miss you, but this is so great.”

Zayn had been dreading the summer hols, to be honest. He’d grown used to sharing a room, a bed, with Liam, the total-stranger-turned-best-friend-turned-boyfriend, over the last school year. He wasn’t sure how he was going to handle going the entire hols without seeing him. Then they’d found job postings for summer camp counselors at camps that were directly across a small lake from each other.

Camp Funoverwin was a footie camp where kids spent the summer honing their skills, a perfect fit for Liam, star of the uni team. Camp Inspiration was a fine arts camp with a wide variety of disciplines. Zayn would be working with the artists in the morning and writers in the afternoons. They would both be off on Sundays and Wednesdays while the campers were attended to by other staff members. They were both eager to see what the kids at their respective camps were capable of.

“You’re practically vibrating, love,” Liam said, chuckling. He leaned over to press a kiss to Liam’s cheek. “Go. I’ll talk to you as soon as the rugrats are asleep.”

“I love you, Li,” Zayn said, kissing him quickly before getting out of the car. He waited for Liam to pop the boot, having already agreed that Liam wouldn’t get out of the car, it would make leaving even more difficult for both of them.
Once Zayn had his bags out, he closed the boot, rapping his fist on it twice. Liam pulled away, one hand out the window.  Zayn kept waving until Liam turned out of sight.

“Your boyfriend?” someone asked. Zayn turned to face a curvy boy with short hair that fell over his eyes. Zayn nodded. “His arm seemed right fit.” They both laughed. “I’m Louis. Musical Theatre.”

“Zayn. Art and Creative Writing,” he said, holding out a hand.

Louis rolled his eyes, using the hand to pull Zayn into a hug. “We’re family here. That’s the second rule of Camp Inspiration.”

“What the first rule?” Zayn asked as he shouldered his bags, falling into step with Louis.

“There is no fraternizing with any of the muscleheads from Camp Funoverwin.”


Liam drove around the lake, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the radio. He was sad to have left Zayn behind, but he was excited to arrive at camp. He’d attended this camp as a kid, learning all of the skills he’d used throughout his life to move from recreation ball to playing on the school team until now where he plays for the university and is being scouted regularly by pro teams. He owed a lot to that place, so when the opportunity to work there arose, he couldn’t pass it up. Especially with the added bonus of having Zayn so close.

It didn’t seem as if anything had changed in the years since he’d been a camper. Liam wondered if his initials were still carved into the underside of the bench on the main field. He pulled his bags out of the car before heading into the main building.

“As I live and breathe!” Liam looked towards the voice, confusion twisting his face at the blonde lad who hobbled over to him, bright smile on his face, blue eyes twinkling. “Liam Payne! How’ve ye been, mate?”

“Fine,” he responded, eyebrows raised as he tried to comb through his memory for this face. The boy laughed loudly, slapping Liam on the shoulder, bringing an image to the forefront of his mind: a smaller version of this lad with crooked teeth and darker hair. “Niall Horan.” He pulled the boy into a hug. “How the hell are ya?”

“Good. Good. Well, except for the knee.” He gestured down, and Liam winced when he saw the scar running from his upper leg over his knee to his shin. “Lucky the camp agreed to hire me back this year despite the injury.”

“Not your first year, then?”

“I never left. First year I was too old to camp, I became a counselor-in-training. Did that until I was able to be a full counselor. Now, I’m a head counselor. Plan the schedules and such. Let me show you to your cabin,” Niall said, attempting to grab one of the bags, shrugging when Liam refused to give it up.

“So, I have you to thank for my Sundays and Wednesdays, then?” Liam asked.
Niall nodded. “Those work out alright?I can change them-”

“No. It’s perfect,” Liam said. He started to mention Zayn, but Niall started pointing things out.

“You probably remember most of these buildings, but we have a couple new cabins, one you’re assigned to,” Niall told him, “with air conditioning.”

“You read your official rules and all of that, yeah?” Niall asked, smiling when Liam nodded. “‘Course you did. You always were big on rules. Now for the unofficial rules. No one touches my food.” Liam laughed, remembering being poked by a fork more than once as a kid when he’d attempted just that. “And absolutely no interaction with those twats across the lake.”

Liam felt a rock drop from his throat into his stomach, splashing stomach acid, nearly making him groan in pain. “Twats across the lake?”

“Yeah, those geeks over at Camp Inspiration,” Niall explained, pointing across the lake. Liam followed his finger and saw two people walking, just silhouettes in the sun. Liam couldn’t help imagining that one of the two figures he saw walking along the shore was Zayn.


Zayn sat on the edge of the dock, legs dangling over. He had his phone in his hand, frowning at Liam’s equally unhappy image. “I feel like we’re trapped in a Shakespeare play,” he groused.

“Just no killing ourselves at the end of the week, yeah?” Liam joked, sadly. He sighed when Zayn didn’t even crack a smile. “They’re a bunch of idiots for not giving you lot a chance. They don’t know how special you are.” Zayn smiled slightly in response to that. 

“Tell me about your campers,” Zayn finally said, his smile growing as Liam started talking about the kids in his cabin. 

Liam’s face grew concerned as he talked about one boy: Carter. “The other boys tease him because he’s really quiet. I tried talking to him, but he just shrugged his shoulders, and went back to running drills.”

“He any good?” Zayn wondered, thinking maybe he had a father who felt any son of his had to play sports.

“That’s the thing, he’s probably the best in my cabin. On the pitch, everyone loves him. Off the pitch, they tease him like crazy, but he just ignores them.” Liam frowned before shaking his head, a smile appearing on his face. “Your turn.”

“They’re all pretty quiet, but there’s one who is a handful. Jared’s already been in trouble for climbing the side of the main building to attempt a cannonball into the pool. No concern for life or limb, that one. I distracted him a bit after dinner with a football that someone managed to sneak into my duffle.” He gave Liam a pointed look, smiling at the innocent one he got in return. “That lasted until the other kids started jeering at him for being a ‘dumb jock’.” The stormy looks that crossed Liam’s face was mirrored on Zayn’s own.

“You know who these kids remind me of?” Liam asked, and Zayn nodded.

When Zayn and Liam had first been roomed together, they’d immediately hated each other, just based on preconceived notions of the dumb jock and pretentious artist. It’d taken time and many struggles before they started seeing each other as Zayn and Liam. Once they’d broken past the prejudices, they found they had a lot in common, spending many nights talking until the sun came up. Eventually, those all-night talks became all-night makeout sessions. Finally, after returning from the winter hols, Liam had told Zayn that he was in love with him, asking him to be his boyfriend. They’d been officially together ever since.

Zayn heard something behind him, his smile tight when he heard voices. “Someone’s coming. I’ve got to go,” he told Liam, who nodded sadly, but understood. “I’ll see you on Wednesday, yeah?”

“I’ll pick you up at the main gate at seven. Make sure you’re awake,” Liam teased, knowing how much Zayn liked to sleep in, but Zayn would do anything for Liam. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Zayn responded, hesitating before ending the call, his fingers remaining on the screen long after the phone shut off.

“Oops!” a voice spoke up, and Zayn turned to find Louis holding hands with a boy he recognized from the photography classes.

“Hi!” the boy said, releasing Louis’ hand to offer his to Zayn. “I’m Harry. Photography. You’re Zayn. Art and Creative Writing.”

“Yes and yes. Nice to meet you,” Zayn said, standing, smiling as Harry and Louis linked hands again. “You two are cute. I’ll let you have the dock.”

“That your boyfriend you were talking to?” Louis asked. Zayn nodded. “Sorry to have interrupted.”

“No worries, I’ll see him in a couple of days,” Zayn responded, smiling at Louis and Harry who seemed to have already forgotten he was there.


Zayn was already waiting when Liam arrived on Wednesday morning, pulling the car door open before Liam could even completely stop the car. “Eager?” Liam asked, laughing against Zayn’s lips. “Missed you.”

“Missed you, too,” Zayn said, burying his face in Liam’s neck, inhaling deeply. When he pulled away, he started tugging at Liam’s jumper.

“Zayn, we’re in public,” Liam said, smacking at Zayn’s hands.

“I know. I’m wearing yours, and you’re wearing mine,” Zayn said, tossing his hoodie at Liam. “I want to sleep with your smell. I can’t sleep without you.”

Liam blinked back tears. “I know, love.” He slipped his jumper off, handing it to Zayn before replacing it with Zayn’s, smiling as Zayn slipped Liam’s shirt over his head. “So, how is Jared doing?”

“You remembered?” They hadn’t had a chance to talk since the first night, just quick texts throughout the day. Liam rolled his eyes at Zayn. “He’s still being a bit of a hellraiser.” Zayn shared tales of Jared getting into everyone’s hair, his energy knowing no bounds. The only thing that seemed to help was if Zayn took him out to play footie in the middle of the night while the other campers slept.

“He any good?” 

“Amazing, Li. Like, a young you, yeah?” Zayn’s voice held awe.

“Sounds like he’s at the wrong camp,” Liam said. “Think we could exchange him and Carter without people noticing?”

Zayn burst out a laugh. “Thought you said Carter was a good player?”

“He is, but he’s still not bonding with the others. Still too quiet and into himself, not in a conceited way, just a quiet way. Reminds me a little bit of you, actually.” Liam sighed. “I found him hiding out in the cabin during the bonfire last night. He was drawing in a notebook, and when I walked in, he threw the book to the floor like he didn’t want to be seen with it. Then he ran out of the cabin like the devil himself was after him.” 

“Did you look in the notebook?” Zayn asked, laughing when Liam reached into the backseat before tossing a leather bound journal into Zayn’s lap. “You didn’t give it back?”

“Tried. Carter acted like he had no idea what it was, but I saw him eyeing my bunk this morning before breakfast.” Liam looked bashful. “He’s probably going to toss it while I’m gone to find this, but after I looked inside, I had to show you.”  

Zayn opened the book, gasping when he saw the contents. There were pages of drawings. Subjects ranged from animals to scenery, but the majority of images were superheroes; some he recognized, but a number he suspected were Carter’s own creations. He laughed out loud when he opened a page to an unfinished drawing that was clearly supposed to be Liam in a footie uniform, a cape hanging off his shoulders. “Think you’re his hero,” Zayn said, showing Liam the picture, giggling when the other boy blushed. 

“Wish I could live up to that. I hate seeing him so unhappy,” Liam told Zayn.
“I understand, I feel the same way about Jared.” He flipped through the book some more. “As crazy as he gets, you should see his writing. He writes superhero stories that belong in the comics. The calmest I ever see him is when he’s writing.”

“The most alive I see Carter is on the field, but there was something different when I saw him drawing. A different energy,” Liam said. 

“Too bad we can’t get those two into the same room,” Zayn said, thoughtfully. He looked over when Liam didn’t respond, taking in the look on his face. “No. Oh no.”

“Yes,” Liam said. “Oh, yes.” He was nodding his head, a wide smile scrunching his eyes shut.


It was around midnight on Saturday when Zayn found himself waking a sleeping Jared, a finger pressed to his lips when the boy started to speak. Zayn tossed clothes at him, making a hurry up motion. The boy looked confused, but dressed quickly, pulling on his shoes and following Zayn out of the cabin. Once they were a distance away, heading towards the lake, Jared spoke.

“Are we going to play footy again?” he asked, glancing at the ball underneath Zayn’s arm.

“We’re going to meet some new friends,” Zayn explained. “You saw the picture of my boyfriend, Liam, yeah?” Jared nodded. “Well, he’s a counselor over at Camp Funoverwin.” Jared’s eyes grew wide. “I know. I know. So, he’s got a camper over there named Carter who the two of us think you should meet.”

“We’re not supposed to talk to them! Louis says they’re muscleheads!” Jared gasped. “Dumb jocks.”

“Do you believe all jocks are dumb?” Jared shrugged. “Do you think you’re dumb?” He shook his head. “Then not all jocks are dumb.” Zayn saw the corners of Jared’s lips quirk as they settled on the shore to wait. “In fact, Liam is pretty smart.”

After a few minutes, Zayn nudged Jared and pointed across the lake, where a light was starting to float towards them. As it drew closer, they could make out the outline of a canoe with two figures inside of it. They looked like they were arguing, and soon their voices could be heard.

“We could get into a lot of trouble for this!” the smaller of the figures shouted.

“Then, I guess you’ll have to learn to keep a secret. Just trust me, yeah?” Liam responded, and Zayn could hear the tension in his voice, see it in the set of his shoulders.

“Trust the guy who stole my notebook,” Carter snapped back. “Sure.”

“Thought you’d never seen it before,” Liam quipped, smugness evident in his voice.

They pulled up to the shore, Jared and Zayn helping to pull the canoe up far enough to keep it from floating away, while Carter stayed inside, glaring at everyone around him. “Hey, Carter. I’m Zayn. Liam’s friend,” Zayn said, remembering that Liam had said the boy didn’t know he and Zayn were a couple. He held out a hand, waiting patiently until the boy gave a huff and shook his hand. “This is Jared, one of my campers.” Zayn handed over Carter’s notebook. “I think this belongs to you.”

Carter glared at Liam as he snatched the book away. “You gave it to your friend!?” he snapped, voice incredulous. He flipped through the pages quickly, seeming satisfied that nothing was ruined.

Carter was closing the book when Jared stopped him. “You drew those?” he asked, and Carter nodded slowly, his eyes suspicious. “Those are brilliant.” He held a hand out, smiling when Carter placed it slowly in his hands. He flipped a couple of pages, stopping on a picture of a hero in a blue and black uniform, the sides of his helmet were twisted like mini-tornadoes. He tapped a finger on the page. “This is how I pictured the hero I wrote about yesterday. He controls the weather, like Storm, but he can also walk through things.”

“Really?” Carter asked. “How did he get his powers? Was he born that way?”

Zayn moved over to Liam, smiling as the two boys launched into a long discussion of the character, Carter digging a pencil out of his pocket and starting to sketch some more while they talked. Both of them leaning close to the lanterns they’d brought.

“Good plan,” Zayn admitted to a very smug Liam. The two of them moved until they were out of the ring of light, just behind a tree, where they could keep an ear on the boys, while reconnecting in their own way.

Zayn leaned back against the tree, smiling up at Liam who rested a hand on the trunk above Zayn’s head, leaning into him. “Missed you,” Liam whispered before leaning in to steal a quick kiss.

The quick kiss turned into several pecks that slowed down each time until they were lazily snogging against the tree, arms wrapped around each other. They jumped apart when they heard a ball hit the tree behind them. Keeping a hold on Zayn, Liam leaned around the tree, laughing. Zayn stepped out of Liam’s arms and from behind the tree, straightening his hair, to find Carter and Jared kicking the ball between themselves. Carter was giving Jared tips, while Jared listened intently, mimicking every move that Carter made. Liam and Zayn joined the boys for a haphazard game of two-on-two, Liam and Carter winning easily, but no one was disappointed. 

When Liam’s alarm on his watch went off, they were all sweaty and laughing. The sound of the alarm sobered them up again quickly. “Can we do this again?” Carter asked, turning to look at Jared before they both turned to look at Liam and Zayn.

“Of course, but it has to be a secret, yeah?” The boys nodded as Zayn and Liam shared a hug, sneaking kisses to each other’s cheeks before turning back to the two lads. “You can’t tell anyone about this,” Zayn said, pointing between Liam and himself.

“You have to promise,” Liam added, holding out his pinky finger. Jared and Carter both nodded, hooking their pinkies with Liam’s. They all looked to Zayn, who smiled as he added his pinky to the tangle.

“We promise,” they all said in unison.

As Liam and Carter climbed into their canoe, they waved goodbye to the two on the shore. “I like your boyfriend” he said slyly to Liam as they started to paddle across the lake.

Liam’s smile was a mix of sad and proud. “Figured that out, did you?” 

“When you were snogging behind the tree, it was kind of obvious.” Carter’s voice was full of sass, but Liam just laughed. “Thank you again for taking me to meet them.” He smiled as he reached a hand to pat the journal sitting between his legs.

“I hope it helped you a little bit.” Carter looked confused. “Not everyone understands that being different isn’t bad. You and Jared are special. You’re a little mix of both camps. You get it, but the others, they don’t. So, Zee and me, that’s between me and you, our little secret.”

Carter nodded, but Liam could tell he wasn’t happy about it.  “Well, us and Jared and Zayn,” Carter responded, smiling widely. “No one else will find out, though. Promise.”

Liam smiled as the boy crossed a finger over his heart. “That’s right. They don’t know about us.” They paddled the rest of the way in silence, Liam hoping that no one spotted them or where they were coming back from.

you click the next upd8 still in somewhat of a shock. It’s been so long you thought you had completely lost interest along with everyone else. Despite having gotten involved with many other fandoms during the long hiatus the new upd8 pulled you right back in again like a SUCKER. the fact the HOMESTUCK ends in LESS THAN A WEEK fills you with some kind of feeling. Sadness? Peace? DETERMINATION? no, the emotions coursing through your body as you watch [S] COLLIDE for the 413th time is too elaborate to narrow down to one single feeling. You try to decide how to spend the last week of homestuck before its all over. maybe spending a whole night furiously making cosplays or upd8 art? maybe you’ll just sit back and relax and just let the end come. FINALLY, the SWEET RELEASE you always prayed to HUSSIE to happen!!! and yet…you still feel a bit worried….will the final click, the final ==> conclude with a satisfacting end? will it address every character arch and fill every plothole? Bringing every dangling thread of this confusing cross-stitched plot into a cohesive whole? Will davekat be canon? you ponder these questions as the metaphorical ticking of your laptop clock slowly ticks down.

Homestuck Fandom. its been seven years that you’ve been reading this goddamn webcomic. You fell in love with these characters despite the weird pixely style, heck that just makes you love it more despite how shitty and sharp the pages are, you appreciate how so much colorful greatness and beauty can be conveyed in such simple forms and for the most part homestuck has truly been AMAZING. you've watched every flash over 9000 times and sent selfies to hussie of the greatest upd8 ever with just the slightest provocation. you’ve grown from a small baby fandom to what could be considered a religion. No matter when each fan joined the colorful hoard, we were all in this together with memes and lyricstucks and crying at midnight when GAMEOVER happened. and no matter how intense it got or how dumb the memes or ship wars were we all joined together as one. Stuck if you will. Yes, homestuck will always hold a special place in your heart, every character, every flash animation, songs and openbound walk arounds, fanart, fanfictions, upd8 cosplay, fanimations and fancomics. EVERY JOKE AND CALL BACK AND LITTLE DETAIL THAT HUSSIE NEVER LET YOU FORGET. Homestuck changed your life. No matter how the final upd8 ends, you know deep down inside yourself that to you very core you will always be homestuck trash.


Thank you.

===> Are You Ready?

Shoe Box Full of Memories

Prompt: Memories
Pairing(s): Destiel
Rating: Teen
Word Count:  1,383
Tags: Destiel, Happy Ending, Fluff, Canon Verse


It wasn’t a scrapbook, or a cute little decorative album bursting at the seams, or even picture frames gloriously lining a fireplace mantle. No, what Castiel had was a shoe box. It was worn at the edges, the cardboard soft from the years that it has held the fallen angel’s entire world in its confines. It wasn’t stored in a safe or placed in a glass case like a treasure; it was kept underneath his bed where his head laid at night.

The shoe box wasn’t filled to the brim; the lid was easy enough to close. When picked up, it didn’t weigh more than a hardcover novel. Sometimes dust collected in the little dip of the lid. It could lay in wait for weeks under their bed without being touched.

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Mine and Thine

[Anon wanted someone wearing someone else’s clothes. Erm… *sweats* Welp. Tread carefully, horrible humour ahead.]

Tony was by no means a small man.

He was well above average in height, his body muscular and toned. That fact was sometimes difficult to remember if you spent any significant amount of time around people like Thor or Hercules, who were in the size and weight range of an adult grizzly bear. Tony was tall and fit, but in the company of so many people that exceeded ‘average’ by far, he wasn’t particularly eye-catching out of the armour.

But that was it, wasn’t it. It had never been Tony’s strength or size that made him dangerous. Nor was it the armour.

Right now, however, Tony looked anything but dangerous and he did, in fact, look small. Steve and Tony might be almost the same size height-wise, with only about an inch between them (an inch that greatly annoyed Tony and greatly amused Steve), but Tony distinctly lacked in bulk. He was muscular, that was sure, but in a different, leaner way than Steve. Steve’s dress shirt looked positively huge on him.  

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