which i am looking forward to

“5 things i like about me” meme

Thanks for the tag @the-indomitable-bhg! :)

1) I am, for the most part, a very responsible person. I show up on time, I do my homework (or, you know, the adult equivalent of homework which I guess is just…work?). Although @lbro009 may with justification no longer believe this because I STILL have not replied to her emails. Inexcusable!!

2) I am - again, for the most part - an open-minded and accepting individual.

3) I can usually recognize my mistakes and laugh at myself when I do dumb stuff like trip over my own two feet or scream when someone startles me at the photocopier.

4) I’ve done some cool stuff in my time. If I ever have grandkids (or even just kids!) I look forward to bragging to them about my many passports and that time I partied with the queen. (I’m also pretty good at making my exploits sound a lot cooler than they actually were hehe.)

5) I think I’m a pretty decent writer. I might not be the most imaginative or the most fun or the most popular, but I have also gotten to a place in life where I can be okay with that and keep doing what I do, and I think that’s important as well.

There you have it - more about me than you ever wanted to know! ;)

It doesn’t feel like it’s going to be Thanksgiving tomorrow. It was a holiday I ALWAYS looked forward to and now it just feels like a normal day. I don’t have a long weekend like most people, although I am only working half day on Friday which is fine.

Still feeling like the whole world is crushing beneath me and I don’t know how to climb out of it but I know I’m trying.

wingardium-letmefuckyou  asked:

Hey, I love your gods&monsters series, could you write something about Apollo? ^Preferably something with a positive vibe, something romantic... But that's totally up to you, anything about Apollo makes me happy

Apollo has many sons.

He only ever has nine daughters.

~

He has his first when he’s young, too young to know better.

Daphne is beautiful and coy, and leads him on a merry chase. He catches her, and finally silences her laughing mouth with his own. They sleep together, and she leaves bite marks up his neck.

Her father, the river god Peneus, finds out about them. Apollo had not known it was secret. Peneus is a hard, selfish god, and he slits Daphne’s throat for her impurity. Better a dead daughter then one who does not listen.

Apollo finds out too late. He arrives to Daphne dead on the side of her father’s riverbank, stomach swollen in a way Apollo doesn’t remember it being the last time he saw her, which was – which was – it couldn’t have been that long, could it?

He cuts open her stomach, throat too tight to call for his sister’s help, heart too tight to bear anyone else looking at Daphne’s slack, bloody face.

The child is still warm.

The child is still alive.

He cannot bring himself to bury Daphne, to sentence her to an afterlife beneath the earth. Instead, he transforms her into a large laurel tree, so her beauty will remain eternal. He presses a hand against her trunk and says, “My hair will have you, my lyre will have you, my quiver will have you.” Apollo looks down at the baby, too small, tucking into the crook of his arm. “Our daughter will have you.”

He calls her Calliope. Their daughter weaves laurel leaves into her hair every day of her life.

~

When he is older, but not wiser, he gets drunk on the top of Olympus. It is not the first time, nor the last, but this time it is different.

This time Hestia, goddess of the hearth, of warmth, of family, places her delicate hand around the back of his neck and leads him to her rooms.

Months later, he lands his chariot, the sun finally set. His arms are shaking, and his legs are covered from burns when the sun grew tired and tried to consume him, but could not. Hestia stands before him, something held in her arms. “What’s wrong?” he asks roughly, throat dry and the skin of his lips cracking. Hestia rarely leaves Olympus.

“I am no mother,” she tells him, and he doesn’t understand until she places a warm, squirming bundle in his arms. He holds it to his chest automatically. “Her name is Terpsichore.”

She leaves before he has the chance to question her. He looks down, and the baby has his golden eyes and her dark hair. “Hello, little one.”

Calliope is fully grown now. Apollo leaves Terpsichore in her care, and promises to come when called.

“Yes, Father,” Calliope says, rolling her eyes as her little sister grabbing fistfuls of her curly hair. There’s an ink smudge across her face, and her home is bursting with books. He should really talk to Athena about letting Calliope use one of her libraries.

He kisses both their foreheads before leaving.

~

Apollo falls in love with a Spartan prince, graceful and strong and with a wide, pretty mouth. He falls in love with a mind that can match him, with a smile that leaves him breathless. Hyacinth captures his affections and attentions utterly, and for a few short years Apollo is enchanted, for a few short years Apollo feels a love deep in his chest that is only surpassed by the love he has for his sister.

Then Hyacinth is killed.

He shows up at his daughters’ door, and Calliope and Terpsichore take one look at him and usher him inside. He can’t bring himself to speak, but he’s covered in blood that isn’t his own, is pale and shaken and mourning.

They clean him and care for him and settle him to bed, although he cannot bring himself to sleep.

Less than a week later, there is a mortal woman there looking for him. Her eyes are red, but she stands tall and her lips are pressed into a straight line. A toddler who shares her dark coloring clutches her skirt. “I am the Princess of Sparta, and wife of Hyacinth.”

Apollo hadn’t known Hyacinth had a wife. He hadn’t asked. Surely he would have noticed – but then again, perhaps not. Love makes people stupid. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“As I am sorry for yours,” she says in return, which surprises him. “Sparta must have a prince. I am to be remarried.” She brings the little girl forward, and she can’t be more than a couple years old. “This is Urania, the child of myself and my husband. I have been ordered to kill her.”

Apollo flinches. He knows such things are done, but – she is Hyacinth’s daughter. “I will take her.”

She smiles. “I thought you might.” She kisses the girl on both cheeks, hands her to Apollo, then leaves as quickly as she’d came.

Urania watches them with big liquid eyes that she got from her mother. He stays with his daughters for a year after that, playing with Urania and watching Terpsichore dance and listening to Calliope’s beautiful poetry. Urania loves the stars. She stares up at them each night, and Apollo patiently explains the name of each one.

When she is fully grown, he begs a piece of ambrosia off Hestia and feeds it to her.

Urania is his daughter as surely as if his blood ran through her veins. He cannot bear to watch her age and die.

~

Marpessa chooses Ida over him, but it is too late. She already swells with his child, and he could use that to keep her. He could force her to stay at his side, she loves him, she said so, it would not be such a cruel thing.

But she is not wrong in her assessment. Apollo is immortal, and will not grow old with her, will not change with her, will not die with her. Ida will.

There’s fear on her face, and he thinks she deserves it, for proclaiming to love him and choosing another. But he is not interested in keeping her captive for a lifetime.

“Have the child, and give it to me,” he commands, “and I will leave you to your life.”

Ida is furious in his jealousy that Marpessa will bear a child for Apollo before she bears a child for him, so there is that comfort, at least.

Artemis delivers the child to ensure it goes smoothly. She’s beaming as she holds her niece. “What will you call her?”

“You choose,” he says, running the back of his finger over the babe’s soft cheek.

His sister considers the squalling child for a long moment before she says, “I think you should name her Thalia.”

“Thalia it is,” he says.

She’s mischievous, and reminds him of himself on his worst days. She grows, and pulls pranks on nymphs and deities. Her older sisters are constantly straining to keep her out of worse trouble.

He gets a frantic message from Calliope that Thalia has gone missing, and he eventually finds her at the edge of a scorched battlefield, the soldiers long gone but the bodies and stench remaining. He’s furious at her for going to a place so dangerous, but when he marches up to her he sees something that he hadn’t expected.

She’s hallway through a story about pranking a wood nymph that he knows is at least half lies and a quarter exaggeration. Curled up on the ground, clutching his stomach as he laughs so hard he can’t breathe, is Ares.

Apollo hasn’t seen the tormented god of war this carefree since he was a child.

Thalia finally notices him, and cuts herself off, paling. “Oh, uh. Hi Dad.”

Ares is downright giggling. “Hello Thalia,” Apollo crosses his arms and glares, “You shouldn’t go wandering away from your sisters.” She winces and nods, ducking her head to look up at him through her eyelashes, doing her best to look contrite and innocent.

It might have worked, if Apollo hadn’t taught her that look himself.

He sits down on the ground next to Ares, who doesn’t acknowledge his presence beyond shifting enough to use Apollo’s thigh as his pillow. “Well,” Apollo says, “keep going.”

Thalia lights up and launches back into the story, and when she finishes she continues into another which is mostly true and somehow even more ridiculous.

~

Because he’s an idiot with a death wish, Apollo ends up spending a month with Hecate in the underworld. He stumbles out one night when she falls asleep, because he feels if he doesn’t leave now there’s a possibility that he never will.

One of the most horrifying moments of his life is looking for the way out, and finding Hades instead. The god of death looks to him, walking around naked in his realm, to the direction he came from, and says, “That was you? Are you crazy?”

“It … it was a good time,” he says faintly.

“Obviously,” Hades shakes his head, and slices his hand down in the air in front of them, creating a doorway for Apollo out of his realm.

Apollo gives him a clumsy salute and steps through.

Roughly a year later, he’s playing his lyre when a little girl with black skin and grey hair and eyes appears in front of him. It’s terrifying enough that he accidentally snaps one of his strings.

“Lady Styx,” he says, voice higher pitched than normal. “Is there something I can help you with?”

The child snorts and reaches her hands into absolutely nothing and pulls out a baby. She holds it out to him. “Hecate says this is your problem now.”

Improbably, the babe already has a mouth full of too-sharp teeth. Her eyes shift between every color, unable to decide, and there is something a little too knowing about her face for one so young. Artemis says he too was born knowing too much.

A child of Apollo and Hecate can only be a mistake, something that will never fit quite well among others of her own kind.

He sighs and take the baby. “Very well.”

“I like the name Clio,” the child goddess says before leaving him.

Thalia tells him it’s too small and to give it back. Urania is fascinated, and takes over most of the child’s care, which is likely for the best since Calliope is neck deep into a new epic, and would be cross if she needed to pull her attention from it to rear a child.

As Clio ages, she stays just as unsettling and strange. Hephaestus shows up around the time she starts breaking into Athena’s libraries, even though stunts like that get people worse than killed. “I don’t know why she gave her to me,” Apollo says as they watch the teenager devouring a stolen tome on the history of the Persian Empire. “Hecate raised you, I don’t understand why she didn’t want to raise her actual daughter.”

“You’re a better parent than she is,” he says thoughtfully. Apollo gives him an unimpressed look, but he says, “I’m serious. Your girls are turning out to be quite lovely – all of them.”

“Of course they are,” he says, nose in the air, but grins when Hephaestus elbows him the side.

By the time she’s an adult, Clio is easily one of the most accomplished scholars to ever exist. She and Athena regularly get into academic debates that last weeks, and scare off anyone from daring to come closer.

She stays strange, and too smart, and Apollo loves her utterly.

~

Apollo is lying on the beach when a large wave overtakes him and drags him into the sea. He struggles for the surface, but can’t seem to shake the waves, and is dragged to the sea floor. He’s a god, so he won’t suffocate, but he’s terrified when the water drags him down to Poseidon’s palace and deposits him in front of his wife. “Apollo,” she says, “I can see what your daughters will become.”

He has no idea what she’s talking about. “Excuse me?”

Amphitrite grabs his jaw and pulls him closer. He doesn’t dare resist. She looks into his eyes, then smirks. “The god of prophecy doesn’t know that which he has wrought. How … ironic.”

“Is it?” he wonders. He really hopes she doesn’t kill him.

“Quite,” she smirks, and with a flick of her wrist she’s naked before him. “I wish for one of your daughters to be mine as well. Lay with me.”

“Uh,” he says eloquently, because Amphitrite has never given her husband any children, he hadn’t even known she could. If he sleeps with her, Poseidon might kill him, regardless of how many people the god of the sea sleeps with that aren’t his wife. But if he refuses her, she might kill him, and it’s not like having sex with Amphitrite is any sort of hardship. She’s as gorgeous as she is terrifying. “Okay.”

He’s deposited back on the shore the next day, feeling oddly used.

If Poseidon has any opinions on Apollo knocking up his wife, he doesn’t voice them.

Amphitrite doesn’t foist the baby upon him as soon as she’s born. Instead years pass, and one day a dark skinned, amber eyed sea god shows up at his door. There’s a teenager at his side, who has Apollo’s coloring and Amphitrite’s bone structure, and hair that shimmers golden-green in sunlight. “Glaucus,” Apollo greets warily, “and who might this be?”

“I call her Erato,” Glaucus says, “I’ve raised her since birth. It’s time for her to join her sisters.”

Erato is not as terrifying as her mother. Instead there’s a sweetness about her that she must have gotten from Glaucus. She’s shy at first, and spends many days looking out into the sea. But his daughters are persistent, and soon she’s laughing and joining them. There’s something dreamy about her, and she loves love, writes romantic ballads and beautiful poems, so much so that Aphrodite commends her talent.

Erato is also the most like him in the area of her love life, meaning she leaves behind a constant trail of heartbroken men and women.

Calliope complains about the constant wailing around their home, and Clio proves she has some of her mother’s talent with magic when she casts an unplotable spell around their home so former lovers stop following Erato home. Of course, she forgets to tell both Apollo and her sisters about this, and it’s very confusing for everyone until Clio remembers to tell them where the house is.

His daughters’ home is a place of constant music, poetry, and literature. He thinks he’s starting to suspect what Amphitrite was talking about.

~

Not all hunts are easy things.

Apollo feels the moment his sister is wounded, the arrow through her abdomen as painful for him as it is for her. He’s in his chariot, and he can’t leave it, if he leaves his chariot unattended the sun will consume it, and then consume the earth. “Calliope!” he snaps, and his eldest daughter appears by his side.

“Father?” she asks, huddling into him and away from the sun. “What’s going on?”

“Artemis is hurt, I have to help,” he says urgently, and places the reins into her hands. “You can do this.”

She pales, but steps forward, keeping a white knuckled grip on the chariot. “Go.”

He kisses his forehead, and goes to his sister. Her huntresses have set up an honor guard around her, defending and dying as cruel faced giants draws closer. “ARES!” he screams, and he doesn’t know what they’re fighting for, what this war is about, but it doesn’t matter. “WE NEED YOU!”

The god of war appears, and he’s clearly come from some other battle, covered in mud and other worse things. He throws himself into the battle, but it’s not until they gain more aid that the tides turn in their favor.

He first sees Erato on the field, water swirling around her as she slices through them all, the power of her mother making her golden eyes glow. Clio is at her back, the glittering magic Hecate passed on to her filling her hands.

Thalia has long curved knives flying from her fingers, and all who face her don’t figure out they’re dead until she’s already left them behind. Urania is letting loose arrows against the giants and though she’s not his by blood, not a goddess by birth, none would know it watching each of her arrows hit true and take down another enemy.

Terpsichore uses her honed abilities of dance differently here on the battlefield, twirling and ducking around enemies with her sword flashing as it slices through all who go against her. Celestial fire licks up the sword, and the daughter of Hestia and Apollo is laughing as she dances through the battlefield.

He wants to yell at them, to tell them to get off the battlefield, to get to safety. But it is thanks to them that the fight is being won, so he says nothing.

Ares looks around, grimaces, and catches Apollo’s eye before he disappears from the battle. They must be invoking his name. Apollo is only grateful he managed to stay as long as he did.

The giants are all dead by the time Apollo manages to make it to his sister’s side. She’s pale and covered in blood, her huntresses seated around her and trying to stop the bleeding. “What were you thinking?” Apollo demands, grabbing her hand and pushing her hair from her forehead. Terpsichore comes forward and lays her burning sword against the wound, sealing and cauterizing it at once. Both Apollo and Artemis scream

“They – took – a – child,” she pants, leaning in for his touch, for his comfort, and he has never been able to deny her anything. He pulls her up, biting back a scream at the pain that rips through them both, and props her up against his chest. “A – nymph’s child. Zeus’s child. They killed – it’s mother. That – that sort of injustice will – will not be – tolerated.” She lays her head back against his shoulder, tears leaking from the corner of her eyes, and Apollo almost wishes the battle were not over, because he wants to murder something.

“I’ll get it,” Erato says, and a moment later she returns with a toddler in her arms. She has the copper skin of Zeus, and pale blonde hair. “What do we do now? Zeus does not care for his children.”

“I think it’s time you became a big sister,” Thalia says, and Erato looks stricken. “Right Dad?”

He looks to his sister, who nods. “I can think of no better place for her. She cannot stay with me – a hunting party is not place for children.”

“Very well,” he sighs. “Does she have a name?”

The girl attempts to hide behind Erato’s hair, then says, “I am Euterpe.”

“Welcome, Euterpe,” he says.

It’s then that the sun finally sets, and Calliope stumbles into existence next to them. She’s covered in deep, bleeding burns, but it’s not as bad he feared it would be. She’s certainly faired better at her first time driving the chariot than he had. “What’s happening? Is everything all right?”

“We have a new sister,” Thalia says brightly, even as Clio rushes forward to tend to her burns.

Euterpe, thankfully, seems to inherit none of Zeus’s madness. She has a singing voice like a clear bell, and soon surpasses even Calliope’s talent with the lyre.

He knows, technically, that Euterpe is his half-sister. But it takes him no time at all to regard her as his daughter, to love her with same simple ferocity as he loves her sisters.

~

For a while, all is well, is quiet. His daughters are all fully grown, accomplished and beautiful.

Then Demeter corners him when he’s walking through quiet city and pins him against an alley wall. “If Amphitrite thinks she can one up me over this,” the goddess hisses, “she’s sorely mistaken.”

At least this time he knows what’s going on when Demeter starts pulling her dress off. “You can’t raise the child,” he says. He’s not adverse to laying with Demeter, although at this rate it looks like there will be less laying and more standing against a rough alley wall. But Demeter only knows how to love in a way that crushes all it touches. He won’t let her do that to his child.

“Fine,” she snaps, “Now get moving.”

He’s vaguely terrified the whole time, and it mostly reminds him of his month with Hecate. He’s left alone and naked in the alleyway an hour later.

Nine months later, a baby is delivered to his door by a nervous wood nymph. His daughter still has the squashed appearance of a freshly born baby. “She didn’t waste any time,” he comments, settling her into the crook of his arms. “Does she have a name?”

“Polyhymnia, my lord,” the wood nymph says, then bows before fleeing.

He brings her to the home where all his daughters live.

She grows, and she’s the spitting image of Demeter, of Persephone back when she answered to the name Kore. Her voice is lower than Euterpe’s, but just as pretty and when they sing together it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. She’s quiet, and thoughtful, her big brown eyes watching all around her with a measured stare.

Polyhymnia asks after her mother, something none of the others had done, and Apollo doesn’t know what to say. The truth is too callous, but he can’t bear to lie to her. Instead he begs an audience with Persephone, and says, “Your sister asks after the mother you share. I don’t know what to tell her.”

Persephone has no advice to offer, but she starts spending some of her time outside of the underworld with Polyhymnia. It is enough, and her questions stop, and Apollo tries not to feel guilty that he never really answered them.

~

Cassandra is unlike any woman he’s ever met, unlike any person he’s ever met, and the flames of love and passion burn inside him in a way they haven’t since his Hyacinth died.

She’s bull headed and irritating, and whenever he tries to complain about it Artemis rolls her eyes and his daughters laugh at him. He supposes he’s not doing a very good job hiding that he’s in love with her. Not even from her, because at one point she crossly asks if he’s ever planning to do anything with her, or if she should accept the offer from the butcher’s son.

They don’t leave her house for five days.

She is curious, hungry for knowledge, hungrier for it then she is of him. She wants to know impossible things, wants to be an impossible thing, and so Apollo laughs and takes her hand and says, “I will make you a bargain. I will give you the gift of prophecy, if you will grant me the gift of your hand.”

He’s never take a bride before. He hasn’t wanted to.

Cassandra is screaming and laughing, and she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him until she’s breathless. He takes it as a yes.

That’s when everything goes horribly, incredibly wrong.

It’s too much, all the horror she sees is too much, and Apollo tries to tell her to focus on the good, to see the happiness of the future. But she can’t, gets too caught up in too many wars, and she wastes away in front of his eyes even as her stomach swells.

He tries to take back the gift, tries to save her, but he can’t. It cannot be ungiven, and his headstrong, vivacious lover fades before his eyes. He only manages to alter it, to change it so no one believes the horrible things she cries to prevent the horror people feel when she looks at them and screams the way that they’ll die.

Artemis helps deliver their child, but halfway through her face goes pinched and worried, and Apollo knows that Cassandra won’t make it.

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, kissing her gaunt face, feeling the sharpness of her cheekbones under his lips, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know this would happen. I didn’t want this to happen.”

She looks at him with glassy eyes, barely reacts when Artemis places their child on her chest. There’s a growing pool of blood under her, but she can’t be saved, she will die, here, now.

Apollo wonders if she saw this coming.

She blinks, and meets his gaze with a sharpness and awareness he hasn’t seen for a long time. “She is your last daughter,” Cassandra says, “Melpomene is the last daughter you will have.”

He kisses her, his last chance to do so.

She’s dead before his lips leaves hers.

Apollo tries to flee, to run from the claws tearing apart his heart, but Artemis doesn’t let him. She yanks him back and pushes Melpomene into his arms. “You can’t leave,” she says harshly, “She needs you. Your daughter needs you. You’re not allowed to run.”

He crumples, leaning his head onto his sister’s shoulder as he sobs, and her calloused hand grasps the back of his neck. Melpomene is stuck between them, soft and warm and alive.

Time passes.

Melpomene is Thalia’s other half, her best friend, and they do everything together. Her dark hair is a mass of unruly curls just like her mother, her laughter is just like her mother’s.

She, like her sisters, is his pride and his joy.

~

Apollo has nine daughters

Calliope, who reigns over written epics.

Terpsichore, who reigns over dance.

Urania, who reigns over astronomy.

Thalia, who reigns over comedy.

Clio, who reigns over history.

Erato, who reigns over love poetry.

Euterpe, who reigns over song.

Polyhymnia, who reigns over hymns.

Melpomene, who reigns over tragedy.

They are known as the Muses.


gods and monster series, part xxi

read more of the gods and monsters series here

me: the han solo movie? LMAO
diego luna: [spotted at the set]
me: han solo (2018) will redefine cinema. it will bring a fresh new take to the character that we really need, i have always been an avid supporter of this movie which i am looking forward to

Descendants 2

Descendants 2 had a lot of strong points but what this post is going to focus on is the character development in all of the characters.

Mal -

Obviously this movie focused a lot on Mal. She has grown a lot from the first movie but not in a healthy way. She developed some bad habits (spelling things and people) and developed some self image issues. This is a vast difference from our defiant and confident Mal from the first movie. While I don’t like the softer Mal that was shown, even closer to the end of the movie, I like that they explored these identity issues. By the end of the movie Mal has reconnected with her roots, her group and what made her want to change in the first place. I think it leaves us with a strong Mal with more room to grow in the right direction.

Evie -

THIS IS MY GIRL! Gonna be honest, I disliked her in the first movie cause she was a ditz but my girl has come a lonngggg way. Evie grew from a superficial girl into an incredibly smart, talented and confident lady. She has a booming design business and doesn’t take crap from anyone, and right beside her for these changes was her supportive boyfriend Doug. I love the dynamic they have because they are equal to each other, she is the strong one but he will still defend her to princes, he manages her business finances and supports her dreams. BUT she is not a dainty princess and he know he isn’t her “prince” but he is her knight. I will defend this ship with. My. Life. Also, she has a big heart and is fighting for the kids that she grew up with. She is going to be a great advocate for the isle.

Jay -

Jay came a long way from his rule breaking enthusiastic lifestyle. He even obeys the smallest (and more sexist) of rules. We also saw that he became less aggressive than before. It was curious to see him as a responsible captain, and it was very fitting. Through out the rest of the movie we got to see him step up as a leader when Mal was lacking or when something needed to be said. Like when everyone was arguing he calmed them down and when Mal and Evie were chatting about her hair, he took initiative to bring them together. Jay is a born leader and is doing the one thing his father, jafar, could not. Being successful and compassionate in a leadership position. In the end when he forfeits his title as captain to Lonnie(?) so she can join the team that is him doing what is best for the team. She is strong and they needed her. He sacrificed his title for the greater good and I hope that doesn’t go unnoticed.

Carlos -

Our shy boy came a long way as well. Carlos is a more outspoken and confident person. I don’t think he lacked confidence in the first movie but I believe he was more introverted, now we see a more open Carlos who stands his ground. For example, kicking Chad out of his room repeatedly. He is dismissing a prince and gives 0 cares. We also have a slight mention of how he programmed his 3D printer to have really cool hacks and such which references his special abilities with computers. Jay can be physical, Evie can be smart, Mal can be sly and Carlos can hack. This is important. Finally we see our boy finally ask Jane out. Tbh, I didn’t see it. BUT I am not against it. The little dorks make each other happy and they make each other stronger, for Carlos he has someone to protect and for Jane she has someone who makes her feel beautiful which is not to be under-estimated.

Jane -

Jane grew in a few notable ways. She became a more involved and outspoken person than the shy, squeaky girl from the first movie. Now she is coordinating big projects and making sure the schedule is kept to. BUT she is still insecure about herself and you can tell, even the way she thought Carlos wanted to go to the party as friends until he spelled it out for her is a sign of the insecurity. Carlos makes her feel beautiful and while that isn’t the best place to get a confidence boost it is still a wonderful development for a young girls self esteem to have someone like that.

Duke -

well, he/she learned English so that is pretty impressive.

Ben -

Ben was a goodie two-shoes in the first movie. While he developed a wicked streak in the second one, he NEVER abandoned his big heart, which is what truly makes him King Ben. He was trying to tackle the life struggles of ruling a kingdom, dealing with an engagement, helping the project areas and maintaining his grades. We know he had to quit his different sports teams because he didn’t have time, the time he spent with Mal dwindled to near nothing and we know he was overwhelmed. He never complained though. Ben is a strong character who is taking care of business and while he might not be the first to throw a punch he is powerful with words before fists, and he doesn’t let his girlfriend fight all his battles for him. In the end when he still trying to seek peace, preventing what could have been a catastrophic battle, he was doing his duty as a king. He put his life on the line. His biggest development in this movie was seeing the other side of things and understanding just how abused these kids were. It is one thing to hear about it and think you know, but he never really knew.  And Uma abusing his kindness and spelling him didn’t scare him away from continuing to seek justice for these kids. Ben is a good leader.

Lonnie -

In the first movie we never really got to explore her character. We saw that she wasn’t afraid of our lil’ villains and that she was still compassionate towards them but that was it. In this movie she is introduced as a threat. She is powerful and smart just like her mother, and she may be a love interest for Jay which is a perfect math. Talk about power couple, am I right?! I look forward to seeing more of her.

NEW CHARACTERS -

Uma -

You can see the results of abuse and bullying in her personality. All she is looking for is validation. This is the entire point of “Say my name”, she wants to be acknowledged. Her dwarf rats don’t really obey her, they still challenge her constantly and call her “Shrimpy”. While she has issues, there is room for change. I really hope Disney takes the opportunity to properly show kids/people how to interact with someone who comes from that abusive background.

Harry Hook -

Dang.. Uh, not gonna lie, I am so weak to this little out law. I was practically drooling over him, and when he tickled Ben my heart skipped a beat. I could ship that, I wont cause I will be lynched, but I could. I could see him being a bigger problem in the future. He has more of a cutthroat attitude than Uma and it is clear that him and Jay have bad blood. I hope we see much more of that delectable pirate. Gil - I bet you are one that gets to leave the isle. You don’t seem inherently bad, just kinda a dunce. Definitely room for improvement.

JUNGKOOK calls you clingy part 3

Request: Hey!! can i request a fake text about a fight with jungkook where the jungkook is being snappy but they’re havinf a normal conversation but the reader catches on and like they have af ight and jungkook ends up saying something like “youre clingy” or anything else that really hurts her and then tries to make it up to her?? the ending is up to you happy/sad. i hope i made some sense!!! thank you 

Part 3 because I’m a nice person. 

Here’s a link to part 1 and part 2



“You what?!” 

 “I called her clingy.”

 Namjoon sat there shaking his head at what he was hearing. He knew that Jungkook was an ill tempered kid, so he hadn’t been too disturbed by the frantic call he had received from Jungkook an hour ago to ‘leave everything and come meet him’. Only, now that he was listening to Jungkook, he couldn’t help but look at him with disgust. 

 "I understand that you were not in the best of your moods…but who the fuck calls their own girlfriend clingy, you idiot?” 

 Jungkook groaned, letting his head fall in his hands while he listened to his elder brother chastise him for his actions. “That isn’t the only thing, hyung.” Jungkook said as he held out his phone for his elder brother to see. Namjoon raised an eyebrow and took the phone in his hands as he went over the messages that Jungkook had exchanged with you more than 15 days ago. 

“Holy fucking shit. You are a dick, Jeon Jungkook. No wonder she left you.” 

Jungkook cringed at the reiteration of the fact that he did not want to accept. He sighed. “I know, hyung. I am a huge idiot.”

 "Nope, you’re not an idiot. Being an idiot is a relatively forgivable sin. You, brother, were an absolute arse to her. Forget it, she isn’t coming back.” 

Namjoon shook his head, giving Jungkook’s phone back to him and standing up to leave. “Oh no no no, hyung please, help me out.” Jungkook got up and stood in front of Namjoon blocking is way. “You know how much I love her.” 

“Jeon Jungkook. ____ may have been your girlfriend, but don’t forget that she was my friend before you guys started going around together. You just hurt my friend, hm? What makes you think I’ll help you out with anything?” Namjoon said, his anger fianlly showing itself but Jungkook wasn’t in the position to back off. Namjoon was the only one who could help him. 

 "Because you are my brother and you know how much I love her. Please, hyung, don’t I deserve one chance?” Jungkook said as he desperately held on to the elder boy’s shoulders. 

Namjoon sighed. “Even if for a moment I consider helping you, and I’m not saying that I’m considering it at all, but let’s just say that I do- do you have anything in mind?” Jungkook frantically shook his head to express his affirmative. 

 "Yes, but I’ll need your help.” 


 You looked at the crowd of people bustling in for your friend’s mini concert and gave a half smile to yourself. Namjoon had always been very passionate about rapping but a year ago he had finally decided step out in the underground and let other people hear his rap. Needless to say, he had been a huge hit.

 As you entered the club, you saw people dressed in clothes screaming hip-hop, a huge contrast to your attire- a plain black hoodie, house shorts, converse and hair so messy, it would give Bellatrix Lestrange a run for her money. You didn’t mind, though. You were never the one to give too much thought to your appearance save for special dates with your ex-boyfriend. In all fairness, and not an ounce of boastfulness, you knew you could step out in nightwear and still look bomb. You just had that confidence about you. 

You pushed your way through the crowd and towards the bar, greeting the bartender with a nod. This was your favourite seat to view his performances. It was comfortable, in good distance, away from people and of course, you could drink peacefully and enjoy the performance. 

 "The regular, ___?” The bartender asked you, ready to pour in a 60 ML of Smirnoff-regular into your glass. 

 You shook your head, “I’ll have blue label today, Hoseok.” 

 “Whiskey? That’s new.” He said as he turned around and poured you your drink.

“I need new.” You shrugged.

 He hummed in response. “What will you have it with? Coke, soda?” 

 You scoffed. "On the rocks, boy.” 

 Hoseok chuckled as he fake saluted you, “Yes ma'am.” 

 You smiled and turned around as the lights dimmed and Namjoon or Rapmonster, as he was known in the underground, came on the stage and the crowd erupted into cheers, you being the loudest. He scanned the crowd and as soon as his eyes landed on you, he smirked and waved at you. You raised your drink and nodded at him in acknowledgement. Then, his demeanour completely changed and the crowd went silent. It was beginning. 

Rap monster continued firing curses at the speed of light. You could only keep up because you had heard this before. You turned in your seat to face the bar to ask for a refill from your friend only to find him missing. You frowned. 

That’s strange. 

You turned back round and realised the music had stopped and the crowd had gone silent again and on the stage were six men apart from Namjoon, all standing in front of their own mics. Hoseok was up there too. You recognised all of them, of course. They were all your friends. Part of the same group they liked to jokingly call ‘Bangtan Sonyeondan’.

 What unnerved you, however, was the man standing at the front mic. 

It was him. Jeon Jungkook. And he was looking directly at you. 

 You narrowed your eyes in anticipation of what was going to happen.

Namjoon wiped his sweat with his sleeves and came near his mic. “There is a new song, a bit different from my usual style, that we want a very special person to hear. It has been written by my younger brother Jungkook. You all have been with me since I began my journey and I know you came here for something else but would you mind giving me 5 minutes of your time? I swear it’ll be worth it.” 

 The crowd instantly burst into encouraging cheers. In midst of those cheers you noticed Jungkook coming closer to his mic, his eyes not leaving yours for a second. 

 “____, I’m so sorry. I love you.” 

 And then he began singing. 

Your eyes widened at the choice of his song. It was a song he had composed, you knew because he had shared a verse with you when you were together. It was called Butterfly. As the words poured out of his mouth and made their way to your ears, you found yourself wearing a sad expression. Here he was, singing about how he didn’t want you to disappear and yet, he was also the one who had called you clingy. That was one term you absolutely did not like. You always gave each other the space you both required and you were definitely not the kind of person who would try to invade his space. Seeing that word had made you, for the first time, question yourself. You felt bad about yourself. You felt humiliated. You were determined to stay the hell away from him for some time, if only to gain back your self respect. 

 Only, he was making it really difficult. 

You could practically feel the sadness from his voice seeping into you, begging you to not go and to stay with him. You could see it in his eyes, the guilt. You could see how sorry he was for what he had said and how scared he was to not have you with him. 

You sighed as you felt your resolve break into a million pieces and decided to give him a chance. Everyone deserves one chance to correct their mistakes and you were not about to take it away from him. 

So you looked up into his eyes, and you smiled. A reassuring and forgiving smile. He instantly understood and stopped singing as tears made their way down his face before he could hurriedly wipe them. He took in a large breath as he stepped away from his make and bolted down the stage towards you, wiping his tears with his hand the entire time.

You stood up, bracing yourself for the impact as Jungkook crashed into you, and burst into tears, not bothering to wipe them this time, and hugging you for dear life. 

“Oh god, I thought you’d left me for good.” He said, tears still falling out of his eyes and now, on the hoodie. He pulled away to stand with his hands in front of him and looked down at his feet. “I am so sorry for whatever I said, ___. I am so so sorry.” 

You smiled as you stepped forward and took his face in your hands before planting a kiss on his lips, to which he responded eagerly. You pulled away and hugged him, your head on his chest and his arms around your waist. “ I almost made up my mind to not come back, Jungkook. Only, you deserve one chance. I’ll forgive you this time, but please don’t ever hurt me like this again.” You said, your voice breaking. 

 Jungkook put his chin on your head and pulled you against him tighter. “I’m so sorry, ____. Never again. Thank you for coming back.” You smiled into his chest and were relishing the moment until you heard a random duo of teens shouting behind you.

“GAYYYYYYY” 

You rolled your eyes as you pulled away to look at the drunken boys indifferently. 

 "Really? Gay? How the fuck is that even considered an insult?” You growled. 

Jungkook snickered above you knowing what was about to come. He looked at you fondly as you bullied the kids to the extent of making one almost cry and made a silent promise to himself. 

Never again am I doing anything to lose her.


gotta go now bYe

MUCH LOVE 

INFERNO-LOOP

✰ * º ❛ more popular text posts ask meme. ❜

‘  if i’m ever murdered i hope they make the chalk outline of my body hot  ’
‘  i hope you end up ok  ’
‘  i’m crying my best  ’
‘  how fucked up would it be if an astronaut was coming back to earth and everybody hid for a bit  ’
‘  some kid just skateboarded down my street crying  ’
‘  do you ever get in an “i don’t know” phase in your life. where you literally don’t have a solid answer to anything. you. just. don’t. know.  ’
‘  i guess at this point i should just consider dating myself  ’
‘  which of the three pillars of modern music is your favourite: burnin’ up by the jonas brothers, beautiful soul by jesse mccartney, or lucky by britney spears?  ’
‘  you know my name… and also my story cause i overshare 24/7 tbh  ’
‘  @ all of u that hate mint ice cream: what happened  ’
‘  there is no doubt in my mind i’m really that bitch  ’
‘  after you hit 21, you start forgetting your age cause ain’t nothing else to look forward to, besides sweet death  ’
‘  why am i not currently in the italian countryside with a fruit plate wearing a light linen dress? unacceptable  ’
‘  hands are weird because one of them can do absolutely everything without a problem and the other one can’t even hold a spoon  ’
‘  remember to drink a fucking shit ton of water every miserable day of ur life  ’
‘  what the fuck is a good day  ’
‘  sleeping pattern: ??¿?¿??¿¿¿?¿  ’
‘  is he………you know…….*makes football throwing motion*….straight?  ’
‘  does anyone else have a resting bitch face™, but kinda enjoys looking intimidating  ’
‘  i’m not like most girls [rips off sunglasses]… i like most girls  ’
‘  time flies when u take a 2hr depression nap in the middle of the day  ’
‘  roses are red, i’m going to bed  ’
‘  u know when ur hairs greasy and it makes u feel so so so bad about urself. and ur entire life. everything is awful bc my hair is greasy  ’
‘  i’m just so glad the word “ugh” was invented  ’
‘  just another day of loving with all my heart and believing in the universe  ’
‘  you know when dogs sit outside with their face turned towards the sun and their eyes closed and they look so relaxed and when you pet them they’re warm that’s how I want to feel always  ’
‘  come into bed and listen to the rain with me  ’
‘  i hope all my girls out here r safe n being loved  ’
‘  people are so petty and then here i am, me, an angel,   ’
‘  i want to have angel wings and be kinder, braver and more tender  ’
‘  concept: a really nice italian restaurant but it’s spelled “spagooter” on the menu and the waiters won’t take your order unless you pronounce it like that  ’
‘  i want kids but i’m scared they’ll blame me if they’re ugly  ’
‘  does anyone have any tips for not thinking about it  ’
‘  “what’s a queen without her king?” well, historically, better  ’
‘  i want something that doesn’t taste like alcohol but has a lot of alcohol in it  ’
‘  i’m alive out of spite  ’
‘  the beatles wouldn’t even fucking exist if big time rush hadn’t paved the path for them so shut the fuck up  ’
‘  a bad person? who, me? that would be correct,  ’
‘  you hate me? wow u think ur hot shit and original huh well i hated me first so u can go grab a number and wait ur turn  ’
‘  my heart does a little “!” when I see you  ’
‘  i just want to say from the bottom of my heart i didn’t sign up for this shit  ’
‘  i deadass lost interest in everything. im just cruising on autopilot rn  ’
‘  still got love for some people i know i’ll never talk to again.  ’
‘  my mitochondria clearly aren’t working because this bitch has NO FUCKING ENERGY  ’
‘  y’all i get attached to people so quickly wth  ’
‘  i wonder how many strangers hate me bc of how someone else described me to them  ’
‘  for the 80th year in a row, the song of the summer is Everytime We Touch by Cascada  ’
‘  it’s weird to think that people who are 5 ft are only 5 subways long ’
‘  in alcohol’s defense i’ve done some pretty dumb shit while completely sober too  ’
‘  man this has been the worst life of my life  ’
‘  having “feelings” is ruining my reputation of being a heartless bitch  ’
‘  I Have To Be Dramatic. I Have To  ’
‘  forgive and forget?? haha no resent and remember  ’
‘  “you’re obsessed with yourself” and you’re not??? sad. tragic  ’
‘  are people becoming more annoying or am i becoming more angry  ’
‘  do my dark under eye circles and unwashed hair turn you on  ’
‘  KIDS REACT TO existentialism and the inevitability of death  ’
‘  remember to do your best to be positive with a clear mind and believe in aliens because those motherfuckers are real  ’
‘  personality: I DON’T GIVE A FUCK  ’
‘  my gender is “pretty boy”  ’
‘  what others call a rebellious phase i call the sudden realization i don’t deserve to be treated like garbage  ’
‘  what is a sex drive? where is the sex going? does it even have a license?  ’
‘  i don’t want to look “pretty” i want to look otherworldly and vaguely threatening  ’
‘  i’m not interested in being polite or heterosexual  ’
‘  do re me fa so done with you  ’
‘  ctrl alt delete feelings cause i can’t do this shit no more  ’
‘  i may seem like an asshole, but deep down i’m a good person and even deeper down i’m a bigger asshole  ’
‘  should i go back to school tomorrow or should i fling myself into the ocean  ’
‘  am i too judgemental or is everyone annoying: an autobiography by me  ’
‘  are we gonna fuckn hold hands tonight or what bitch  ’
‘  i love drunk me but i don’t trust her  ’
‘  has anyones crush ever actually worked out for them or is that a myth?  ’
‘  i say “fight me” a lot for a girl who is 5′3″ and has a hard time opening some doors because they’re too heavy  ’
‘  if i had a dollar for every time someone called me ugly i’d have 0 dollars bitch u thought lmao  ’
‘  my last words will probably be sarcastic  ’
‘  i used to be a straight a student. now i’m not even straight  ’
‘  ever wonder how different your life would be if that one thing never happened  ’
‘  single and ready to find aliens  ’
‘  it’s very important that i am both cute and powerful  ’
‘  i want to make friends but at the same time no  ’
‘  there’s a special place in hell reserved just for me, it’s called the throne  ’
‘  hi i’m here to ruin everything  ’
‘  i’m glad dogs can’t read the ‘no dogs allowed’ signs so they don’t feel sad and feel left out  ’
‘  we’re all better and gayer people than we used to be  ’
‘  every time i speak i am reminded why i should not  ’
‘  every machine is a smoke machine if you operate it wrong enough  ’
‘  i don’t know what i’m feeling but there is a lot of it  ’
‘  the rumors are true: i’m soft and i just want to be loved  ’
‘  i’m like a hexagon: all my hecks r gone  ’
‘  we all know that one person you get sexually frustrated just looking at  ’
‘  i wonder what it feels like to know what the fuck is going on  ’
‘  my kink: not having to set an alarm for the next morning  ’
‘  on the bright side, at least i am not addicted to cocaine  ’
‘  they called me stupid?? well joke’s on them i don’t even know what that means  ’
‘  i might get a lot of shit for saying this but i think it’s fun to enjoy things  ’
‘  i’m the nicest, sweetest, most rage-filled person i know  ’
‘  assert your dominance by calling your friends by their student id number  ’
‘  there she goes again, being over dramatic and by she, i mean me  ’
‘  if u don’t know how to respond to something just say ‘how dare you’  ’
‘  um that’s u’re* not ur  ’
‘  i wonder what it feels like to know what the fuck is going on  ’
‘  so sick of looking at my purse and not seeing $20,000  ’
‘  literally want to be rich for the clothes  ’
‘  me??? upset???? yes constantly  ’
‘  a good gender neutral term to use is ‘fool’  ’
‘  today’s schedule: suffer  ’
‘  my middle name is actually $$  ’
‘  don’t u hate it when u wake up and ur awake  ’
‘  i want someone who will light a fire in me  ’
‘  i want someone who will light me on fire  ’
‘  i’m too cute for 90% of the shit i go thru  ’
‘  who needs therapy when you can Realize™ things about yourself alone at 1 am  ’
‘  why is there so much blood in my alcohol system  ’
‘  no offense but i am a blessing to this earth  ’
‘  haha oops i care about you  ’
‘  they call me calcium because i give everyone strong bones  ’
‘  do you have that one person that you can’t look at when you’re trying to be mad at them because they’re so cute??  ’
‘  hi i’m here to ruin everything  ’
‘  one day i’m gonna say ‘fight me!’ and someone’s just gonna fuckin deck me  ’
‘  me? a jealous hoe? absolutely  ’
‘  it’s raining but it’s not men so what’s the point  ’
‘  i think i may be gayer than i originally planned  ’
‘  i can’t hang out tomorrow i’m too busy doing nothing alone sorry  ’
‘  me? overreacting? shit probably  ’
‘  i would like to publicly announce that i have no idea what i’m doing  ’
‘  is there a scholarship for trying  ’
‘  me?? using sarcasm as a defense mechanism??????? what?????  ’
‘  i don’t know what i’m feeling but there is a lot of it  ’
‘  i require a lot of attention or you get a lot of attitude  ’
‘  “what the fuck” is an emotion now and it’s the only one i have  ’
‘  you’re important to me, you piece of shit  ’

anonymous asked:

Mini prompt if ur taking any: high school /college au! Steve is in art class and he just opened a cupboard to find a tiny tony squished inside who just looked at him and said “shh i’m hiding. I may or may not have blown up the chem labs”

For the record, Steve had only wanted to finish his project.


It had been a long week. He was tired. It was cold. Bucky and Natasha had just gotten (back) together, which meant every night for the past 8 days had been….loud. To sum it all up, he was in a pretty piss-poor mood.

So when Steve heard a dull thud from the supply cupboard, paired with a muffled yell of ‘fuck, paint, fuck, everywhere, son of a whore-”, Steve figured his bad week was just about to get worse. 


Fucking horny teens. Sex in the store cupboard, really? Steve needed to use that, dammit.


Shutting his eyes and letting his head fall against the desk for a moment, he briefly contemplated his life and whether or not he really needed to stay in college, before standing upright. He’d just go in there and tell them to fuck off. Maybe make them pay for whatever damn paint they sounded like they’d spilled all over themselves. That would be fun.

There was another dull crash, and then what sounded like paintbrushes clattering to the floor as the cursing continued. Steve huffed irritably, marching forward. He was pretty much the sole user of the tiny studio, and so he usually ended up purchasing and ordering that stock cupboard all on his own. And now there was someone fucking in there-

“My eyes are shut, so you better put your dick away in the next five seconds and look really goddamn sorry by the time I’ve opened them again, or I’m gonna be so pissed,” he declared, yanking open the door whilst his spare hand covered his eyes.

There was a short silence, and then “Uh, do people usually get their dicks out in this paint cabinet? Is this some sort of exhibitionist trend I’m missing out on?”

Steve frowned, peeking through a crack in his fingers, just for a second. The frown deepened when he saw no-one, but as he glanced downward, he spotted a guy, crouched on his haunches. He was the only person there, and his dick was very much covered.

Steve pulled his hand away, staring. He looked like he was in the process of picking up a stack of paintbrushes from the floor, and he was covered in…glitter? And green paint?

“Yes, I know, I am a disaster,” the boy muttered, running a hand through his green hair, “in my defence, the stocking system in this cupboard is very unreliable.”

“Hey,” Steve folded his arms, offended, “This a perfectly stacked cupboard. It’s a good system.”

“There was no room for my elbows to navigate without spillage of the paints! They should obviously be on the bottom shelf.”

“It’s not catered to short people,” Steve snapped, “it doesn’t bump against my elbows.”

There was another silence, and then an offended huff. “I’m not short. I’m above average, actually.”

“Why are you even here?” Steve asked incredulously, looking at him hard. He didn’t recognise the guy- and it was with a little jolt somewhere just under his stomach that he realised he definitely would have remembered a face like that if he’d seen it around. “You’re not- you’re not an art student.”

“No, but the arts block is like, the furthest away from the labs on the other side of campus, and so it may stand a chance of being just out of reach of Fury’s senses. I hope,” he explained with a wave of his hand, like that made things any clearer, “anyway- amusing as it was to hear, may I ask why the first thing you said to me was an order for me to put my dick away?”

Steve made a little noise in the back of his throat, blushing. “You think this is the first time I’ve caught people getting handsy in my cupboard?”

“Ooh, your cupboard, is it?” The boy grinned, leaning a shoulder against one of the shelves. How he managed to make that look flirtatious, whilst covered in green paint and purple sparkles, was rather a mystery to Steve. “Didn’t know people could claim store cupboards now.”

“I pay for all the stuff in here and stock it myself-” he shot a glare at the boy, who just looked a little sheepish, “so yeah, I’d say it was mine. And you- you just come in here and mess it all up and get paint everywhere, and I’m not-”

They both stopped when they heard the banging of doors being flung open down the corridor, and Steve watched as the boy’s eyes widened. “Uh oh,” he said ominously, “okay, cupboard monitor, shut the door and pretend you never saw a thing.”

Steve paused, looking incredulous. “What? What are you even- I have no idea what is even happening-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” the boy rolled his eyes as he whispered, and then before Steve could even finish, hands were grabbing at his collar and tugging him into the darkness of the cramped cupboard. He swore in surprise, feeling the boy lean over him and shut the door behind them with a quiet click. “You’re really terrible at reacting quickly, aren’t you?” He whispered.

Steve opened his mouth, and was surprised to find a hand immediately cover it. It was stupidly cramped in there for two people, and so Steve felt the boy, right up against him. “Pretty pretty please just be quiet, for like, 6 seconds.”

Steve, completely baffled by that point, just nodded. The hand was still over his mouth.

They both listened as the footsteps got louder, and then another nearer bang as the door to Steve’s studio was flung open.

The boy bit his lip and winced, fingers curling tighter into Steve’s jacket for a second. Steve just stood there, wide-eyed, wondering who the fuck appeared to be hunting for the person in front of him.

“Goddamn it, Stark, you can’t run forever,” came a gruff growl, and then they heard the door shut with a slam and footsteps fade down the corridor.

The boy- Stark- breathed out, and drew his hand away from Steve’s mouth. “Phew, that was close,” he said quietly, giving Steve an absent pat on the cheek, “well done for not giving us both away immediately, by the way.”

“I can react quickly,” Steve burst out defensively, “I can. You just- caught me off guard.”

Stark raised an eyebrow. He was very close in the cupboard- Steve could only see the vague outlines of his face in the darkness, but the initial image he’d seen upon throwing open the door had been somewhat burned into his mind, so it was easy to image what he looked like. “Sure you can, cupcake.”

Steve watched him, frown creasing his forehead. Stark didn’t seem unduly scared, and when Steve had seen him, he didn’t look all that injured. But that didn’t exactly explain why there appeared to be someone doing their best to hunt him down. 

“Do you need help?” He asked in the end, cocking his head a little, “Do you- if someone’s after you, I can make them go away. Not like- not in the murdery sort of way, but- uh- I mean, if someone’s threatening you or something, me and my friends are good at- that. ‘That’ being making them fuck off, obviously, not the threatening stuff, why would you want me to threaten you too, that would be dumb-”

He broke away when he heard s soft tinker of laughter underneath his chin. It was a nice laugh. Very melodic. “You’d do that for a guy who just broke into your store cupboard and held you hostage there?”

“I’d do that for anyone who needed it,” Steve said, shrugging, “I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of it, that’s all.”

He felt Stark’s eyes scour up and down his body, then, and guessed the face he was wearing looked pretty disbelieving, so he he added “I didn’t always used to be so…”

“Tall?” Stark said helpfully, and Steve nodded. “Yeah. Tall.”

Stark grinned, and Steve saw the white of his teeth. “Well, I’d really love for you to knock on Dean Fury’s door and punch him out, but I feel like that would be asking too much of someone I only met two minutes ago. Also the manhunt is, perhaps, ever so slightly justified.”

Steve opened his mouth, and then shut it with a clack. He cocked his head, looking down at Stark and re-folding his arms. “Why the fuck is Dean Fury hunting you down?”

Stark looked a little guilty, feet shuffling on the floor. “Uh. Well. You see- there was a very very slight incident with some flammable chemicals and an unsuspecting laboratory a few hours ago. No one was harmed, except Bruce’s pizza, so I guess I’m also hiding from him too. But- hmm, how do I put this- the lab has sadly reached its untimely demise?” he finished with a nod.

Steve paused. “So you blew up a lab,” he said eventually.

“I’m going to get them a new one, obviously.”

Steve wondered how much an entirely new lab would cost. “Obviously,” he repeated dryly, “and you’re going to buy me some new paint. And then tell me how excellent my stacking skills are.”

Stark smiled again. “Darling, I may be an arsonist, but I’m no liar.”

Steve huffed, shaking his head. He realised absently, that they were both still pressed together in the darkness of the store cupboard. And just like that, suddenly all the horny teens who fucked in broom closets didn’t seem quite so stupid after all. In fact, Steve thought they were onto something. That was- yeah, he could certainly consider that, in the future. Or now. Whatever.

“I,” Steve declared, hand jumping to the door handle and twisting it hastily, because they were definitely not the kind of thoughts he should be having about a total stranger, “am too tired for this.”

Stark raised his eyebrows and blinked as light flooded into the room. Steve remembered the paint when the guy’s hair pretty much assaulted him with colour. “And you should probably shower,” he added.

Stark looked upward, fingers playing with some neon strands and then letting the paint drip on his fingers. There was a second in which he just stared at it, and then the fingers jerked forward and pressed into his cheek, smearing green across his face. 

Steve yelped in surprise. “Hey!” 

“Now you need a shower too,” Stark shrugged, swaying forward on his feet and grinning up at Steve, “how about we save water and share one?”

Steve sputtered. Stark just looked at him with a little smirk on his face and a light in his eye. “I-” God, that offer sounded good right now, “I actually have a project that I- I can’t afford to put it off any longer.” He sighed, waving a hand over to the half drawn sketch covering his canvas and steadfastly refusing to turn and face it, lest he be bombarded with the physical representation of all the crushing pressure he was currently doing his best not to think about.

Stark peered over his shoulder, leaning in again as he did so. Steve could smell paint and coffee. “How long is it going to take, do you think?” He asked curiously.

Steve shrugged. “Too fucking long, that’s for sure.”

Stark looked as if he was debating his options. His eyes flickered over to the door, but then landed back on Steve. “Well,” he pulled a face, “it’s not like I’m gonna be doing much other than being yelled at once I leave, so I might as well stay and keep you company.” A pause, and then “That’s- that’s alright, right? You’re not secretly screaming at me to leave you alone in your head right now?”

Steve chuckled. “No screaming. You- I’d like you to stay, You seem like you have excess energy. I could use some of that right now.”

“What, you just gonna absorb the energy via osmosis?” Stark jumped backward onto one of the desks and swung his legs, leaning forward and grinning up at Steve. He really was beautiful- if a little green.

An usual burst of bravery overcoming him, Steve leaned down and took Stark’s face in his hands, kissing him softly. Underneath him, he heard a little noise fall from the other boy’s mouth, but he caught on quickly, hands going around Steve’s waist and pulling him in close.

Steve pulled away, placing an extra peck on his lips for good luck. “There,” he said with a smile, “I’m feeling more energised already.”

Between his hands, he felt the smile as Stark laughed. “Wow- smooth talking, handsome, it’s a wonder you’ve not been snatched up already,” he mused through his little bursts of laughter.

“My name’s Steve,” he stroked a thumb over the cheekbone that was covered in a patch of glitter. He stopped for a moment, and then shrugged. “Although sugar’s fine too.”

Another laugh. Steve was fast beginning to develop a bit of an addiction to that laugh. He wanted to hear it more, far more. “I’m Tony,” was the response he got, “Tony Stark.”

“Do you usually set off explosions and then run from the consequences of said explosions, Tony Stark?” Steve murmured, tilting his head and letting his hands slip around the back of Tony’s neck.

Tony’s fingers grasped at Steve’s shirt and pulled him down for another kiss. “Wanna find out?” he breathed when they broke away for a second, and Steve did, apparently- very much so, if the hands that curled into Tony’s hair and the mouth that worked open Tony’s own was anything to go by.

“Mmf,” Steve said, in a mixture between a moan of pleasure and irritation, “you’re getting paint all over me and I really, really need to- hmmm, God- work. This is very distracting,” he muttered, making no efforts to break away as he leaned forward and curled his hands under Tony’s thighs, pulling him as close as he’d get before falling off the edge of the desk entirely.

Tony giggled. Fuck, Steve had known him for five minutes, why was that laugh making him feel so stupid and pleased for- “I’l pay off your professor and make them give you an A,” he said seriously, peppering kisses across Steve’s throat, and fuck, okay, yeah, Steve was… the project wasn’t going to get finished tonight, not now Tony had come in and seduced him with his stupid painted green hair and ripped jeans and mouth, goddamn it, Steve was only human.

He’d just finish the project tomorrow. Yeah. He’d have time.

“They won’t ever think to search for you in the apartment of some random art major,” Steve breathed, and Tony made approving noises underneath him, “I’d just like to say, though, that I deny all plausible accountability if you get caught.”

“Oh, baby,” Tony pulled on his earlobe with his teeth, and Steve felt his breath hitch and his eyes roll, whoops, yeah, he’d probably not be able to finish the fucking project for days after this- too distracted by the goddamn memory, stupid Tony, “cruel words- throwing me to the wolves so easily? After all we’ve been through?”

“I met you five minutes ago.”

Tony waved a hand, “and we’ve bonded irredeemably. No going back now, Steve, if I go down, you’re coming with me.”

Steve smiled, curling his hand around Tony’s jaw again. “You know what, I don’t think I’d mind that all too much,” he admitted, before making a face, “although I could do without the green paint and glitter.”

“You’re just not imaginative enough,” Tony rolled his eyes and leaned back, “how far away is your place?”

“Depends how legally we get there.”

“I’m already a fugitive- might as well go all out,” Tony slid his hand into Steve’s pocket and squeezed, and Steve barely resisted the urge to just lean over him and get his pants of right there on the fucking desk, God, there was paint everywhere, why was this not horribly gross?

“Two minutes, then,” Steve answered, searching blindly for Tony’s hand and then locking their fingers together, “come on.”

Tony jumped off the desk enthusiastically, and Steve tugged them out the door, both of them giggling like five-year-olds as they ran through the corridors and hid from any professors that might be out for Tony. Which happened to be all of them. 

“They’re all under Fury’s web of control,” Tony whispered conspiratorially into Steve’s ear, a hand curled around his shoulder as he peered around the corner and watched a professor wander innocently over to the water cooler, “look at him. Look at that plotting face. They’re all out for me, Steve, all of them.”

Steve just rolled his eyes and pulled Tony out the door. After some heavy making out against the wall (Tony said it was because physical affection made people uncomfortable and so wouldn’t look at them, but Steve just thought he was a handsy bastard. Not that he was complaining, mind.) and a brief detour to the nearest corner store to buy cereal, Steve finally got them both back to his apartment.

Bucky looked up as he walked in with Tony, and his eyebrows shot up. Tony winked. Steve just looked smug and gave him a salute, before pushing Tony into his room.


Time to show him how it felt to be on the other end of those thin walls.

The New Romantics

This is going to have some sort of plot, but for now, yeah. Klance smut, as promised, more to come. Laughing at the discourse over which should top but no worries I got this. Also, click the OP if the read more link doesn’t show. 


It was normal to be cranky after an especially exhausting battle. It was normal to want to be alone. But Lance was one of the few among them whose spirits remained up and playful, a comforting routine after the adrenaline and sorrows of a battle, no matter how often the others swore to dislike it. Though this time, Lance didn’t say anything as they got back to the castle. He simply went to his room and shut himself in.

“Is he okay?” Pidge asked.

“Probably tired from the fight,” Shiro said. “It was exhausting. For all of us.”

“Well, I’m starving,” Hunk said. “So you’ll know where to find me.”

Allura looked at them, the beauty in her face that was there when they first found her weathered down by battles and near-death experiences. She had tired lines along her chocolate skin and her shoulders slumped whenever she wasn’t in battle or in front of other races. “We should all rest. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Good work, Paladins. You’ve come a long way.” She gave them a hard, look, her eyes bright with tired pride, a thin smile on her lips. She left and Shiro turned to Keith.

“She’s right. We need to rest.” Keith nodded, not really answering. “I’m serious, Keith. Don’t go tire yourself out. If we fight again tomorrow, you need to be at your best.”

“Alright, alright,” he mumbled. “Goodnight.” Shiro kept his eyes on him until he left. Keith obeyed, despite every bone in his body telling him to go and train, to go and fight until he was swifter, stronger, better.

Instead, he went into his room and forced himself to sleep.

The next morning, with the others at breakfast, he realized something was wrong. It was Lance. He wasn’t yapping like he normally did. He wasn’t joking, talking through space goo, being obnoxious. He was just sitting there, stuffing his face angrily, his hand fisted on the table like he was aggravated.

Keith glanced at Shiro who was sharing a concerned look with Allura. Coran and Hunk spoke, but not enough to fill the void of Lance’s voice.

Later, as they were training, Lance was sloppy and kept getting knocked down, even by Pidge who was half his height.

“Dude, what’s your deal?” Keith snapped when he watched him go down again.

“Stay out of it,” he bit back. Keith blinked in surprise, and walked over to him. “Get out of my face.”

“You don’t tell me what to do!” he shouted. “Look, if you don’t focus, we can’t form Voltron. And if we can’t form Voltron, we can’t fight. Which means we’re dead. I am not dying because you can’t keep your head clear enough to take this seriously.”

“Don’t you go blaming me,” he snapped. “Everyone knows your impulsive temper is what screws us up most when we fight.” Keith shoved him back and Lance lunged forward. Keith easily sidestepped him. “You wanna go, Mullet Head?” he hissed.

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fly me to the moon

fantasy + magician au 

pairing: taehyung | reader
genres: very cheesy fluff, like really fluffy 
word count: 4.977
warnings: none
author’s note: this was entirely self indulgent and I almost threw up from how sweet it was, but hey, it got me out of my writer’s block :’’’) it was super fun to write, I really hope you enjoy it as much as I did!


It’s during nights like these that you love and hate magic all at the same time.

Long gone are the ghastly days of running and hiding, when abilities not considered normal were chased instead of celebrated. You are fortunate enough not to have lived through those dark times, but your family did, and their memories are vivid enough for a lifetime. Their past is a heavy reminder of an old battle that your kind won and lost at the same time, a thick scar that is healed but rough to the touch.

It is easy to harbor resentment towards non magic users, but it is also easy to forget a quarrel ever existed when you hold the hands of your customers and read their emotions out loud, receiving gasps of awe and admiration looks from young kids that squeeze your hands back as tightly as they can. All day and night people line up in front of your quaint tent within the Magic Circus, hoping to receive a dose of reality they cannot grasp themselves, because emotions are a tricky thing — they are fleeting and confusing and can transform into something entirely different in less than a second, like playing with the ripples of a fast paced river.

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top-summer  asked:

Hello,I am Crystal from new chic.Your blog is so funny and amazing,so we sincerely invite you to promote our store on your tumblr,and we would offer fixed payment for each post or reblog,do you have interest?If yes,pls give me your email to discuss more.

You are right! My blog is so funny and amazing. It’s about time someone recognized how funny and amazing I am. Sincerely.

This is such an exciting offer, and I know my blog can be a fine promotional tool for your store. Promoting things is what I do! I promote everything, and I do it for all the sweet, sweet money I can get.

The rate, per post, is one million dollars. This is not negotiable. Each post I promote must also feature a beard-grooming product that is made only from vegan ingredients. Promoted posts can only be placed between the hours of 11:34am and 4:29pm, per the Glasgow treaty of 2011, to which I am a signatory.

I will require three example posts for my consideration. Each example post should showcase a product that is relevant to the followers of my funny and amazing blog. Choose these posts carefully! If they are not as funny and amazing as my blog is, I will not consider your store for promotion on my tumblr,.

Finally, I will require a photo of your office, featuring your entire team, with a single shoe on each member’s head.

I look forward to your reply, and your money.

not to be that person but…. hating a movie before it comes out because you THINK your favorite character might be getting a storyline you didn’t “want” is really immature and creates uncessary drama over nothing. if it happens AFTER you see the movie? make a fucking scene! but before? just….chiLL

Shapeshifter Boyfriend

An anon requested a reader who was specifically plus sized, and being plus sized myself I really wanted to do this. I couldn’t decide on a monster for a long while until I decided on the setting, so here we have a lonely shapeshifter and his chubby love.


   “I thought you said you were going on a diet?” Your coworker smirks as she sits down at the lunch table with you.

   You frown, setting down the lunch you had so been looking forward to all week. It was to be your one little indulgence all week, and she comes in and ruins it. “I-I am,” you reply meekly, looking over the pasta which had once been a gold mine was now a pile of ash in your eyes.

   “You must have a really big dessert then if you’re eating a meal like that,” she continues to chuckle as she pulls out her lunch, which is not any better than the one you’re eating.

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dysfunctional-college-roommates  asked:

42 + andreil? :)

It only took me all month to answer this! So sorry!

42: “I swear it was an accident.”

Andrew hasn’t even made it into the apartment and already he knows there’s trouble. His first hint is the smell: smoke. Not cigarette smoke, but a gross, acrid, burnt smoky smell. The second hint is the wail of the smoke detector and indistinct shouting. The third and most telling hint is that the door is half open, a definite no-no in the Minyard-Josten household.

I am so done with this shit Andrew thinks and then What the fuck is Neil doing? He pushes the door open, wrinkling his nose at the smell, which is almost overpowering.

“Honey, I’m home,” he calls out, voice heavy on the sarcasm.

Neil comes tearing around the corner, shirtless and inexplicably covered in blood.

“Oh my god! Andrew!” Neil yells. He’s holding a bloody towel and trying, ineffectually, to keep the blood from dripping on the floor. “I swear it was an accident!”

Andrew drops his bags and strides forward, checking Neil over. The wounds are superficial and look a lot like scratches. But that doesn’t explain the bloody nose.

“What the fuck happened?” Andrew demands.

“Neil, I can’t find Sir anywhere—oh…” Andrew stares hard at the man who has just walked out of the bedroom—he and Neil’s bedroom. “Andrew! Hey, uh, wow. This is awkward.”

Their landlord, Aubrey, is for reasons unknown also shirtless and covered in scratches. Andrew looks at Aubrey, then at Neil, his face as blank as always.

“Explain.”

Neil looks on the verge of a breakdown. “Aubrey, can you shut off the damn smoke detector? I swear to God I am about to lose my mind…” Neil hops up on the kitchen counter, head tipped back to try and stop the bleeding. “Christ. This is what I get for trying to be romantic.”

Aubrey snorts and Andrew shoots him a nasty glare. The snort turns into a terrified meep. Aubrey busies himself with the smoke detector, climbing on top of one of their chairs and unscrewing the covering to remove the batteries. The ceiling fans, Andrew notices, are circulating at top power and all the windows are open, letting in the muggy summer heat.

“So, what had happened was,” Neil starts. “I wanted to make you dinner.” Already Andrew is shaking his head. “I know! I know I’m not supposed to use the oven while you’re gone but I was just going to heat up some bread while I microwaved a lasagna. But I got distracted by the game… you know… and the lasagna blew up in the microwave.” Neil waves his hand to indicate the mess dripping out of the microwave onto the counter and floor. It looks like something from a horror film. “I started trying to clean that up,” Neil continues, “but I forgot I had the bread in the oven.”

“You forgot to mention the salad,” Aubrey interrupts. He looks like he’s enjoying this story too much, or maybe he’s just enjoying the view of Neil without his shirt. Andrew places a protective hand on Neil’s thigh and squeezes.

“Right, the salad. I bought a salad in a bag and I put the glass salad bowl Allison gave us on top of the stove so I wouldn’t forget.” Andrew already knows where this is going. “But I didn’t realize that I had accidentally turned on the burner when I turned on the oven? So the bowl got super hot and exploded!” Neil spreads out his fingers to mime an explosion. “Some of the glass sliced me. It scared the crap out of King and Sir. I stepped on some glass trying to go look for them. Then the bread I don’t know caught fire? Or something? It started smoking and set off the alarm.”

“Meanwhile I was getting calls from y’all’s neighbors about the noise and came up to check,” Aubrey interjects. “Neil answers the door covered in blood so I, uh, took off my shirt to staunch the bleeding.”

Andrew literally cannot believe Aubrey. He just stares at him. Stupid Aubrey and his 5’5” and his stupid football player build.

“While we were talking King snuck out,” Neil points at the door. “Aubrey chased him and brought him back but King scratched the shit out of him. We managed to get him in the bathroom. Which, okay, everything was fine but my feet were bleeding and I slipped on the linoleum and Aubrey tried to catch me and we both went down and I hit my nose on the side of the tub. Hurt like a motherfucker.”

“He swore a lot,” Aubrey adds.

“Right, so, that’s it. In a nutshell. Totally an accident, all of it.”

Andrew surveys Neil, bloody and with bruises already blossoming on his skin. He takes in the wrecked kitchen, the bloody footprints leading everywhere. The oven is open, the last of the smoke drifting out of the apartment. Through the open window he can see two charred baguettes smoldering on the balcony. Lastly, he looks at Aubrey, still clutching his blood stained T-shirt to his obnoxiously waxed and muscled chest.

“Well,” Andrew says, “this is a cluster.”

—–

After Aubrey leaves Andrew takes care of Neil, cleaning up his injuries like he’s done time and time again, though this is the first time that Neil has ever sustained culinary-related wounds. Thankfully the scratches and cuts are shallow but Neil will have black eyes from the nose job.

Once Andrew is done with First Aid he carries Neil back to the bedroom, settling him down on the bed. Sir, who has been hiding on the high shelves in the closet, jumps down and joins Neil. Andrew lets King out of the bathroom and King gives an indignant merow before getting on the bed. All four of them form a pile of bodies, human and feline. King settles on Andrew’s chest, kneading him and purring, sharp claws poking through his shirt. Sir licks the side of Neil’s face.

“I’m really sorry, Drew,” Neil sighs. “I wanted to do something nice for you and it ended up a disaster.”

“That’s what you get for breaking house rules,” Andrew grumps, flicking Neil’s ear. “But… thanks.”

Neil looks at him, blue eyes wide and startled. Andrew flicks him again. “But I better not catch you in our bedroom with another man, again.”

Neil laughs, head tipped back on the pillow. “Can you believe Aubrey took his shirt off? Who does he think he is, Magic Mike?”

Andrew groans. “Never should have let Nicky pick that one for movie night.”

They’re quiet for a minute; the only noise is the sound of the cats purring. Andrew scratches behind King’s ears and then does the same thing to Neil. Neil squints at him but smiles and leans into his touch.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Neil says.

Andrew tugs at Neil’s earlobe. “Glad to be back.”

Let Her Be

Originally posted by whenimaunicorn

Reader x Ivar

Proof read by @heyitskatrina


“(Y/N)!” Helga called as you got distracted and drawn into the sales pitch of someone who stood at the docks.


“There is so much more to look at here. Mother would not believe it if I told her.” You gasped and she smiled kindly as you handed her some of the baskets you’d been carrying. 


 “I am sure the messenger that Floki has sent will be sure to tell her of Kattegat.” She smiled and the two of you hurried off, not spotting the suspicious glare that was fixed on you. 


 “Who is that?” Ivar asked which drew his brother’s attention over to you and Helga as you ducked into the cabin. 

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2

“We live in a world where billions are spent on physical health and appearance. But yet, mental health and well-being, which are the most important factors that keep all of us moving forward and something that should be given the same level of care and attention as physical health, get ignored and pushed to the side time to time again. I know we would love to look in the mirror and love to see what we see. Sometimes I struggle on a daily basis to see that, but I know that when I look inside my mind, I know that I am happy with where I am at and that’s the most important thing. We need to remember that is so much more important to take care of our mind and our mental health rather than our physical health.”  —  Demi Lovato accepting the Artistic Award of Courage onstage during UCLA Semel Institute’s ‘Open Mind Gala’.

" if David Bowie hasn't slept with Styles yet, then he doesn't resemble Jagger.” VERY LONG THREAD of parallels

Alright if you want it so badly… You really wanna go there…

You really want me to give you the dirt…

NOT SAYING THEY ARE SPOT ON DOPPELGANGERS 

btw

Any Rolling Stones fans, please don’t take this the wrong way, i will not say one is better than the other. This is just for us to celebrate their similarities. And as the song goes “ Mick Jagger could be Harry’s dad. Vas Happenin’ mum? Vas Happenin’ Mick? “

Exhibit a)

Them laughing together sure is something.

Awe cuddling and relaxing. Nice!

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anonymous asked:

Aaron has find out about the cheating. He is drunk and plead robert to tell him that he is not in love with her. I want robert desperate both of them actually. Aaron ask him if he ever loved him. Make it angsty sad and beautiful. If you write it i mean

“Aaron?” Robert called, searching the dark living room for his husband. He flicked on the lights, noticing that Aaron wasn’t downstairs, wasn’t curled up on the couch, or in the kitchen, but there was a soft light coming from the upper floor that made him walk up the stairs, carefully navigating the spiral steps in the dim light.

“’m here,” Aaron greeted, waving a half drunk bottle of whiskey at Robert. He was sitting on the landing, knees hugged to his chest as he sat opposite to their bedroom door, his gaze on the half open doorway.

“Are you okay?” Robert asked, easing himself down onto the top step of the stairs, not wanting to make Aaron uncomfortable, or sit too close. He’d been worried, when he’d gotten a drunken voicemail from Aaron, wondering why his husband had called him at all.

Last he’d heard from Aaron, it was him screaming at Robert to get out of his house, Aaron angry and devastated as Robert admitted all, told him about what had happened with Rebecca.

In all the years he’d know Aaron, Robert had never seen him go from blissfully happy to absolutely broken in a matter of seconds, and it had been because of him.

Robert hated himself for it. 

“Okay?” Aaron snorted, laughing at the mere concept. “My husband cheated on me three weeks after our wedding. Do you think I’m okay?”

Robert ducked his head, ashamed. “You called me.”

“I wanted you to come here and make me understand.” Aaron admitted, taking a swig of the alcohol before he spoke again, wincing at the bitter taste. “I wanted you to make me understand. Make it right.”

“I would if I could, you know I would.” Robert said, hating the way Aaron shifted away from him as he tried to reach out for his husband, tried to reassure Aaron the way he always did, with touch, a hand on his knee, or an arm around his shoulders. 

“But you can’t.” Aaron said sadly, shaking his head, fresh tears rolling down his red, and splotchy cheeks. He looked exhausted, as though he hadn’t slept in days, his eyes red rimmed and swollen from crying.

Because of him.

Because of Robert.

“I fucked up, Aaron.” Robert said, picking at a loose thread on his tracksuit. He’d been sitting in front of the television with Victoria when Aaron had called, the two of them slobbing out in their comfortable clothes, drinking wine and mourning the apparent end of both of their marriages. 

“Do you love her?” Aaron asked, looking at Robert with tearful eyes. 

Robert’s jaw almost hit the floor. “Love her?” he said, incredulous at the mere suggestion. 

“Do you love her? I need to know, Robert, I need to know if you love her, if you want her more than you want me -” Aaron started to ramble, pressing his palms into his eyes as he started to cry even harder, choking out heartbroken sobs between his every word. “Do you love her more than you love me?” 

Robert scrambled to his knees, not caring now as he moved to sit in front of Aaron, prising the whiskey bottle from his hands. “There’s no one in the world I love more than I love you, Aaron,” he shook his head, desperate to just gather Aaron into his arms, desperate to hold him close, make it better.

“Why did you do it then?” Aaron practically begged. 

Robert’s heart ached as he looked at Aaron, hated how all of this was because of him. “She was easy to manipulate, I guess. I wanted to hit self destruct and I knew she’d let me.” 

Aaron choked out another sob, shaking his head. “It hurts, Robert. It hurts so much - the fact you could do this to me, after everything, after everything we’ve been through. I feel like it’s never going to stop hurting.”

He was drunk, and honest, and saying all the things he was too angry to say to Robert without the aid of half a bottle of whiskey, Robert knew that much. “I’ll never forgive myself for hurting you like this,” he said, knowing it was true, knowing he wouldn’t ever forgive himself for doing what it did, hurting Aaron the way he had.

“I don’t want to feel angry anymore.” Aaron admitted, hugging his knees even tighter to his chest, as though he was trying to fold himself up entirely, escape from all the problems Robert had caused.

Robert didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to fix it, make it better. 

“Did you ever love me?” Aaron asked after a few minutes silence, a desperate look in his eyes.

“I love you so much Aaron, I don’t know what to do with it, most of the time.” Robert said, echoing Aaron’s words from their wedding day, those words that had sent his heart racing in the best way possible. 

“So you slept with her to make yourself feel better?” 

Robert closed his eyes, hating the sick feeling that rose up in his stomach as Aaron spoke. “I don’t expect you to ever forgive me,” he mumbled, not quite able to look at Aaron.

“I want to forgive you.” Aaron said quietly, picking at the skin around his thumb. “I don’t know if I can.”

Robert nodded, spotting the top of the whiskey bottle, screwing it back into place. “Do you want me to get you a glass of water?” he asked, gesturing toward the kitchen downstairs. 

“I want you to go back in time and make it so none of this ever happened.” Aaron sighed, sobering up now, roughly wiping at the drying tears on his cheeks. 

Robert gave him a sad smile. “If I could, I would.”