why am i admitting to writing this

You’re scared to admit that you might actually not be ok. you scared to say for once that your something other then ‘good’ or 'fine’. Why are you so scared?” my best friend asked me.
“Because - because I’m the one that’s supposed to be ok. I’m the one who can’t fall apart. Because all of you deserve someone to be there when you fall, and I am that someone” I said through silent tears.
“I can be that someone too” she said, “it’s ok to not be ok.
—  Excerpt from a book I will never write #1269 // words i desperately needed to hear
A-Z Book Recommendations.

What a great idea from my friend at @macrolit :) Had to give it a go. I’ve omitted “A’s” and “The’s” from most of the titles for sake of flow.

  • A - American Gods by Neil Gaiman - A wandering modern “fantasy” that felt keenly poignant to me having grown up in the midwest. You’ll need patience for this one but this book is truly about the journey not the destination.
  • B - Bloody Jack by L.A. Meyer - I’ll be honest, I never finished this series. It got a little overblown but the characters are so genuine that I held out a lot longer than I would expect of myself. This first book though is the definition of a classic middle reader. Lot of Adventure and a lovable, fierce, albeit flawed, female protagonist. 
  • C - Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess - I used to read this book every summer. It’s a rough read with some explicit violence (sexual and otherwise) but an important one I think. I recommend reading the “British” publishing which has 21 chapters (the publishers took out the last one for American audiences, because apparently we don’t like character redemption and growth *eyeroll*). The real genius of this book is the vernacular Burgess created from scratch that is truly like reading another language at first. 
  • D - Darker Shade of Magic by V.E. Schwab - Not to be cliche but I find that a lot of the titles Booklr obsesses over in the YA genre to be par-baked at best. Not the case with this series! Well developed characters that exist beyond their actions and exhibit real emotional complexity without relying on tropes and a plot that kept me turning and turning pages!

Keep reading

two times

Originally posted by tomshollandss

Fandom: Spider-Man: Homecoming

Warning(s)?: Fluff for everyone!! And the mention of male gentiles (Flash’s nickname for Parker)

Word Count: 1708. I kind of got into this one XD

A/N: Am I late to this trend? Probably, but who cares! I was in the mood to write something fluffy so I decided to write something fluffy. It’s called supply and demand :D

Summary: As Peter denies his feelings for you his feelings develop even more. These are two long times Peter admits to himself that he likes, even loves, you.

masterlist (x)  requests (x)

Number One

Peter, after observing your body sprawled on the floor, laughed wholeheartedly as a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, observing your sleepiness state as you pretended to do ‘snow angels’ on his floor.

Why you were at this apartment? Well, it was simple. While your parents were away on a business trip you were too scared to sleep alone in your own apartment so Peter volunteered to take you in for a couple of days…

…but he didn’t things would escalate to this.

“Peter! Look at my snow angels!” Continuing to mess up his rug a little bit with the constant moving of both your arms and legs, the male couldn’t help but conceal a laugh at how embarrassing this moment was.

Let’s hope he won’t text Ned about this in the morning.

As his concealed laughs turned into light snickers, he noticed your energy deplete from your body as you awkwardly stopped the moving of both your arms and legs. Completely drained, you stopped making ‘snow angels’ and cuddled into the uncomfortable rug, too lazy to move to the bed just inches away from you which caused Peter to smile charmingly at your now ‘asleep’ body.

Technically you were half-asleep, but he didn’t mind because he was already admiring you.

As you cuddled more into the now messed up rug, Peter couldn’t help but cock his head and observe you; completely intrigued by the way you made yourself comfy on a hard floor.

It may have been completely simple but to Peter it was fascinating, especially how you made something as negative as sleeping on a hard, uncomfortable rug to something as positive as looking completely peaceful, inside and out. 

Just the way your body curved in the dim light caused a light pink dust to dance across his cheeks, forcing him to turn his head to ‘observe’ an old lamp fetched out of a dumpster – but he couldn’t keep his eyes on that old piece of dirt for too long.

Every single time he tried to remove his gaze from your physique it always happened to wonder back to your beautiful face.

Your hair was swiped on the floor, static causing small strands of your hair to go up which left you with childlike features; something Peter completely loved about you. Your eyes were now closed while your lips were pulled in a tight line, giving you the appearance of a sleeping small infant which caused Peter to blossom even more as he glanced over your gentle features, trying to figure out why he was acting like this.

Peter has always been around you for years now, you guys technically grew up together, but he never looked at you like this…

…like a complete angel.

His cheeks were now a pigmented red as he observed your define features – cheesy, I know – but at this very moment he noticed something different about you. The slight rising of your chest as you breathed caused his chest to clench tightly. The light beating of your heart pounded against his ear drums, causing a light smile to spread across his face.

Right now he was looking at you in a different light – literally – and he was completely loving it.

“What am I going to do with you?” His usual smile plastered on his face as he swiftly jumped off his top bunk, making sure he didn’t disturb you as he gently grabbed your frail body and pulled you in his arms. His gentle facial features close to your own before he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, causing you to bury your face into his defined chest which Peter adored completely.

Too afraid to wake you up, Peter leaned against the cold metal of his bunkbed before he placed you securely on his lap, his arms grabbing a blanket on his bottom bunk before he placed it over the two of you – his arms securely placed around your back as he pulled you closer to his chest to give you more warmth in the chilly room.

I could get used to this. He thought as he leaned against the metal bar, closing his eyes as you breathed lightly against his chest.

Keep reading

Five Hundred Words *Jughead Jones x Reader*

Originally posted by imaginationworlds

Prompt: “Wait where is my homework?” 
“You did your homework?”
“Oh, yeah, right. I didn’t!”

Note:- This is my first, ever, try at writing Jughead, so, forgive me if I suck at this. I left the ending open for a possible second part, depending on if I am good at this and I get a good response, then I’ll write the second part. - Ro

You didn’t quite remember how the hanging out started, it sort of, just happened. No words were exchanged the first few times, it was comfortable silence and that’s really what you both like about one another; the silence. The easy and relaxing silence. The no need for useless conversation or forced interactions. He would be immersed in his writing, fingers typing quickly, and skillfully on the keyboard. Writing his inner thoughts and the town’s deepest secrets. You would be reading or drawing, little doodles of random things.

That’s why Jughead likes you. He doesn’t have to interact in order to be around you, he doesn’t have to speak or really listen, he just has to be there and you’re happy. It makes writing his novel easier, he doesn’t have to stop and talk or answer questions; he can just write and get on with it. That’s thing, though, he doesn’t have to, but then sometimes he wants to. Lately, he has started up conversations, it’s never normally lengthy or immersive but it’s little chats.

He’d ask about your drawings, mostly. You seemed more comfortable talking about your art than yourself, he noticed how twitchy you got when the topic of home or family was brought up, how you would smoothly transition to something else. After a few attempts, he eventually stopped asking, knowing how he’d hate it if someone kept pushing him on his predicament with “home” and “family”.

When you talked about your drawings, sketches and sometimes watercolours, you were a different person. The normal, reserved, shy and slightly weird girl was replaced with this passionate, smiley and confident girl. You carried a small sketchbook with you, everywhere, it was to jot down any muse you suddenly got. You never let anyone see the sketchbook, Jug, had a few glimpses but that’s about it. Like, everyone else, he only had the pleasure of seeing your art when it was fully done and on canvas or parchment paper. He understood that perfectionist of his writing, he doesn’t like when people ask to look at his stuff when it’s not 100% proofed for it.

Of course, he laughed at the cliche you two. The writer and the painter, two artists, who have broken souls and view the world through a warped, tinted window. You showing your view through illustration, graceful paint or pencil strokes, capturing the world in a still. And him, through the art of words, his view laid out and written down in carefully, constructed sentences. Two people who create, who are outsiders due to their lack of social skills, and yet, have found redemption of this by socialising with one another.

He usually hated cliches but he overlooked this one, just this once.

So, here you both are in the corner booth, as usual, at Pop’s. Two milkshakes in front of you, one chocolate and the other strawberry. Him with his laptop open, fingers typing down his recent findings of the murder mystery that haunted your pitiful town of, Riverdale. And you, red leather bound sketchbook open, two blank pages facing you. Pencil in your right hand as you stared out of the window, it was raining, making the window mist up.

Letting out a small, gentle sigh, you glance over to Jughead and watch him type for a few minutes. His raven hair that was peeking out from under the unique beanie, curled and fell into his face, he was too in his ‘zone’ to sweep it away. His green eyes swept across the screen, focus and determination behind them.

It was creeping late into the evening, you’d have to get going soon, you always hated leaving for some reason. You closed your sketchbook and opened your study books, frowning seeing no notes, or even your finished homework. That was extremely odd, you had math and science, where the hell was it? You’ve been at Pop’s since school ended.

“You going?” Jughead’s voice rang out. His eyes still glued to his screen, excessive typing but he knew whenever you shut your sketchbook it was home time.

You didn’t answer as you flipped through the many, blank, pages of the study. “Wait. Where’s my homework?” You asked with annoyance, looking around the table irritably.

“You did your homework?” Jughead raised his eyebrows, actually looking over the lid of his laptop to you, shock evident in his voice.

You both stared at one another, him not believing you had done it, whilst you were dead certain you did. Jughead’s mouth curved up into a smirk as realisation dawned on you, you didn’t do your homework, in fact, you didn’t do anything but sit in Pop’s drinking your milkshake.

“Oh, yeah, right. I didn’t!” You frowned and closed your books, Jughead could sense something was wrong but didn’t know if you wanted to talk or just suffer in silence, as usual. “But, yeah, I should get going home.” You shrugged lightly, an indication that you were fine.

He nodded, “Alright. I’m gonna use the restroom, then I’ll walk you home,” you chuckled at Jughead. “A killer is walking around, what type of person would I be if I just let you walk home alone,” you had to nod in agreement as he stood up and walked out of sight.

The weird feeling erupted in your stomach, you got this whenever you were alone with Jughead but it would simmer away, although it always came back when he offered to walk you home. It was weird, Jughead always walked you home, it was nothing new but yet, it was affecting you. You couldn’t possibly have a crush on Jughead, right? No, he’s your friend, you’d say best friend almost. Although, it’s rational, to develop a crush. You see and spend time with him every day, he’s like you and attractive.

He seemed to like your company. Jughead doesn’t tolerate anyone, if he has a problem or doesn’t like someone, they usually know about it. Hence the argument he had with Archie, his former best friend, who in which is trying to make amends with. So, obviously, he must like you to a degree, especially to spend every day with you! Going by all previous conversations, which are a handful you doubt that you or Jug would say anything to one another about feelings.

Noticing his open laptop an idea popped into your head. You were never, ever, this forward. Was this even being forward? You had to work fast.

When Jughead came back he closed his laptop and placed it neatly in his bag, offering a half smile and you got out of the booth, knowing full well that when he was at his place he’d see what you left. You only hoped that your act of regretful confidence would work out.

You had small chatter along the way, you complained about the weather, you hated when it rained it always shone through in your art. You don’t know what it is but the gloomy weather always made your muse a little dreary; you hated those pieces, yet the darker ones were often, Jughead’s favourite to look at when they were done. When you reached your home, you sighed at the parked cars, your parents are home; never good, especially when they’re home together.

“Night, Juggers,” You nudged his shoulder and he rolled his eyes at the nickname, it accumulated over milkshakes a few weeks back.

“Night, Y/N, meet at Pop’s for breakfast?” He asked already walking back towards the diner, he stayed there until closing, something, Pop, himself told you.  

You chuckled, “Sure.” Before walking into your house, as soon as, you opened the door you heard the yelling and sighed lightly before stalking towards your room.

Jughead, sat back in the booth, requesting a coffee as he opened his laptop once more. Keen to get this final thought down before it drifted away, only something caught his eye. A file on his desktop sat, titled ‘Read Me’, he opened it and skimmed through the document. 

Out of the five hundred words written, he only managed to comprehend the ones saying you liked him. A lot of the words were sentences of “I’m not good with words like you are.”, it made him chuckle. He frowned, normally people doing anything remotely related to feelings towards him would repulse him, yet you? It made him feel at ease. 

Five hundred words and he feels a weight lifted off of him and he didn’t know why. Well, he knew why but he wasn’t sure he was ready to admit it to himself! 

(God, this probably sucks. I am sorry if I wrote him wrong, I tried. At least, I tried, right? Let me know if I should do a part two, I am taking on Jughead and Archie requests, so feel free to leave an idea for me to write. - Ro) 
I didn’t tag because I have no idea if any of my taggers like Riverdale. 

If I do a part two, let me know by commenting on this if you wanna be tagged for it.

pearlo  asked:

Yuuri and Victor for playing footsie, please!

THIS REALLY GOT AWAY FROM ME. and by got away from me I mean this got long.

It starts the night Yuuri’s new rink mates invite him and Victor out for dinner. 

They end up at a tapas bar, of all places. Mila had suggested it while lifting Yurio above her head. 

“The small plates are perfect for his tiny hands!”

“I will end you.” Yurio’s feet windmilled through the air as though that would magically provide him leverage.

“Awww, Yura, are you not enjoying the view?”

Keep reading

made manifest / 6.9k / canonverse trans!dean (read it on AO3)

wherein castiel defied god for dean before dean even knew his name.  

warning: slurs, gender/body dysphoria, some dubious consent

Dean’s twelve and bored in another health class. He’s staring at a pyramid in the margins of a textbook labeled The Hierarchy of Needs, only half-listening to the dull, muted monotone of the teacher’s lesson in the background. He’s confident he’s got this dumb thing down. After all, he’s seen it about three times this year, because they keep moving schools in the middle of the unit, and every junior high in the country apparently offsets their curriculum by one or two weeks with the sole intention of keeping Dean from getting to the really juicy bits of health.

Lecture complete, the teacher falls into his desk chair and dispassionately assigns a perky student in the front row to hand out worksheets. The promised land of goofy genitalia illustrations and condoms on bananas that lies in chapter seven is a distant dream to the depressing reality of this, a dumb photocopied doodle where he’s expected to write in where he stands on the pyramid. What he aspires to achieve in his life next. His stomach appreciates the irony of the whole situation and growls loudly as his hand hovers indecisively between the bottom tier labeled physiological needs and the next up, safety.

Are you eating? and Are you afraid for your life? Teachers usually assume the answer to that is a given for the kids in a junior high school class, but most the time but it really—isn’t. For Dean.

Keep reading

connect the dots [sirius black]

summary: it’s YOUR chair. regardless of the fact that you found him sleeping there, for merlin’s sake, it’s yours. neither he, nor james seems to understand that. remus is an accidental wingman, lily is there to help, and peter just wants everybody to be friends.

word count: ~2200

a/n: (thats pretty fuckin ironic peter pettigrew u stupid swine) ANYWAY KIDS WHATS UP I LOVE ALL THE MARAUDERS EQUALLY???? but i have an especially soft spot for sirius and remus and james…. hmm…. (especially ben barnes as sirius and andrew garfield as remus but shhh) anyway ik i have a shit ton of requests to do but here i am, master procrastinator, back with more procrastination works! i had an impulse okay. y’all should be thanking me for this insight on snogging sirius black bc i know i’m thanking myself tonight

Keep reading

If I Knew Then

Day 9 of @softkent‘s 14 Days of Love fic-a-thon: Falconers TV!

Bitty might have been the first Falconers TV fan on the team, followed closely by Ransom’s massive Tater obsession, but he’s far from the last. What had started out as a casual viewing at breakfast soon turns into a Haus-wide tradition, with half of the SMH gathering to watch every new video as avidly as they watched Jack’s games. And naturally, this being the SMH, they tear every video to shreds in the process.

“Tater’s right, his falcon looks like a diseased rabbit.”

“How do you draw that shitty a falcon when there’s a giant painting of the logo right on the wall?”

“Come on, boys, he tried his best,” Bitty normally intervenes, whether the ‘he’ he’s defending happens to be Tater or Jack or Thirdy.

“Yeah, you would say that, Bits.”

“’I wish I could bake a cake,’” Holster says, ‘”full of rainbows and smiles, and everyone would eat it and be happy.’”

Keep reading

tiredrain  asked:

Hi there, I felt inspired to create a tumblr account as I really, really wanted to message you. Firstly, thank you for how you've been dealing with being outed; you are so polite about it all! Although I am a MI fan, I have to admit, your section on Indian Laws struck me. I'm sorry for being naive (I'm a Brit and my worldly knowledge isn't great.!), but can you please explain why Indians (native) are treated so poorly? Stay strong and keep writing, M :)

You don’t have to apologize for being naive.  Or for asking questions.  To be honest, I’m not the best person to answer them because I’m very uneducated.  If you want some answers with real academic weight behind them, you should check out the writing of Dr. Adrienne Keene.

With that in mind, I personally think Indians are treated poorly because we’re kind of inconvenient.  No matter what settlers have done since arriving here, they haven’t been able to eradicate us.  If you are repeatedly trying and failing to exterminate an entire people, I would imagine that gets very frustrating.

In my experience, if America does something I don’t understand, the rationale usually turns out to be money.  So I’m going to guess that our tribes are sitting on top of resources America wants to exploit, but can’t because we’re in the way.

A part of me knows
I am incapable.

I have always been able to
cheat my way through.
But it can only take me so far.
At some point, my overconfidence
will no longer be able to
compensate for my shortcomings.

I am incapable of everything
when it comes to things like this.
I am no good when it comes to you.

A part of me knows why.
I hate to admit it.

—  “I am afraid” remnant-thoughts

Name: It is… a pleasure. Part 2
Pairing: Mycroft x reader
Summary: after the reader expresses her interest in Mycroft (rather subtly), there is some silence, as Mycroft prepares to make the next step, and he never is not serious enough about anythgin. This thing exists thanks to the people that said they wanted it, so thank you!

(Part 1)

“Sherlock, good afternoon,” your peaceful day was suddenly interrupted with the calm voice coming from the common room. You stoop in the kitchen, and Sherlock answers something, you can’t hear what. “Brother mine, I am here to talk to your roommate, not you. My sources informed me she is at home today,” Sherlock doesn’t even try to deny that, as everyone knows how good Mycroft’s sources are. A second later, Mycroft walks in the kitchen, looking just as perfect as before - perfectly ironed shirt, black suit, the tie that is casual enough to let you breathe but serious enough for you to remember who you are breathing next to. And the usual umbrella that he is holding his right hand. “Y/N.”

“Mister Holmes!” and there you are, sitting in front of the British Government (you asked Sherlock to tell you more about his brother) in the most casual clothes you ever owned. And the mess on your head. Definitely the worst way to meet such a… well, he is not even a human being, as far as you know.

“Y/N, it is Mycroft,” he corrects you again. “How are you doing?”

“Very embarrassed at the moment,” you answer honestly and try to fix whatever it is on your head. Seriously, you look like his intern that is too messy to deal with anything than a person that the Holmes would willingly come to see. “And how are you?”

“A bit worried about France,” he sits down on one of the chairs next to you (you honestly hope it’s not the one Sherlock tried to destroy a few days ago) and smiles. “I am sorry for barging in like that, I probably should have called.”

“Yeah, it would help us with that,” you wave your hand in the air, meaning the differences in your status. “However, this must be exactly how your kind of people see my kind of people, so…”

“My kind of people?” he sighs. “What did Sherlock tell you?”

“Only that I was stupid enough to try and awkwardly flirt with the British Government?” you ask quietly, blushing like a tomato. “And given that I am terribly bad at that, I would really appreciate if you just forgot it ever happened.”

The silence just hangs in the air. It gets rather uncomfortable, but neither one of you says anything, until you finally find the courage to look at Mycroft’s face.

“Why… Why are you smiling?” on yes, not only are his lips doing the movement of ‘smiling’, but you can see that happy expression in his eyes and the very wrinkles around them.

“Because I came here to ask you to have dinner with me. Forgetting about it is definitely not part of my plans, and you are… I find it amusing to see you blush,” he answers simply. 

“People just text to ask someone out,” you find that you lost your voice at a very bad moment.

“Mycroft Holmes is not like all people,” you are pretty sure that Mycroft is enjoying your confusion and surprise, as he hands you an actual letter on an actual paper with an actual wax seal with an imprinted emblem of (as you think) the Holmes family. Or, more probably, just Mycroft Holmes. “If you open it, the time will be used more efficiently.”

“Yes, sir,” you obediently open the seal and take out the paper with golden letters extruded on it. The writing is elegant and a bit hard to read, but you quickly skim the lines. 

Mycroft Holmes would be honored if you, miss Y/N, agreed to spend an evening in his company next Sunday at 7 pm. 

Sir Mycroft Holmes

“I tried to make it sound less old-fashioned,” Mycroft admits quietly.

“I didn’t know you are also a sir,” you answers just as quietly, only now understanding that not only you flirted with the British government, but you were seen as a worthy option for him. For some weird reason.

“I am also a lord, I just thought you would then get way too scared if I write that,” you nod quickly. “So, what will your answer be?”


“I delivered it myself because I wanted to see your face when you opened it,” Mycroft smiles. “It was worth it.”

“No, why are you inviting me somewhere? I mean, I am so much younger, I am so much more childish, I am so messy…”

“I know all of that, I had you followed.”

“I am… You what?”

“I had you followed to make sure you are exactly who you say you are,” Mycroft folds tips of his fingers together in front of his face, just like Sherlock does. “You are. And that is why I am here and not in a meeting. You are absolutely spontaneous and natural, and I haven’t had a lunch with such a real person in a very long time, that’s all.”

“So you want me to…”

“It is just a dinner,” something in Mycroft’s eyes is telling you that it is not - he is too serious, and he looks just weirdly, especially the way he looks at the every feature of your face. “I want to learn more about you.”

“You probably have cameras in my room, don’t you?” he doesn’t answer, and you literally crush your head on the table. “And why say you want to learn more about me if you already know more than I do?”

“I want to see who you are as a person.”

“I am just a usual person.”

“No, Y/N, not any more,” he sighs. “I had a full background check ran on you. I had you checked and re-checked,” you raise an eyebrow. “Because you are perfect.”

“I am what now?”

“You are perfect,” Mycroft repeats calmly. “Absolutely perfect, I could not wish to meet a better person. I do not care that you are younger. Or that you are naive. Or that you are messy. Or that you watch TV series, while I am working. Or anything from what I got from my sources. You are special.”

“That sounded almost like a declaration of love, Mycroft Holmes. Be careful,” you try to turn it into a joke. He smiles.

“Just have dinner with me. Get to know me. I know you want to, you told me so.”

“That was before I learned I tried to flirt with the British government!”

“And that is what makes you so special,” he slowly raises his hand and gently touches your cheek, then tucks a curl behind your ear. “You want to know me… for me.”

“That is because you look so damn well,” you answer quickly.

“We both know it’s not true.”

“Oh, come on! You know you look perfect,” you murmur, slowly realizing that Mycroft never removed the fingers from your face, so he is simply playing with your stupid curl that doesn’t want to stay calm. “Mister Holmes…”

“It is Mycroft.”

“It’s Lord Holmes because your brother said you are not a type of person that desires romantic relationship, and my dreams include being with a person that likes me and not just… finds my history clean enough to deal with me.”

“I forgot how difficult relationship is,” Mycroft sighs. “I do like you. Now just stop being stubborn and have the dinner with me. If you don’t like it, you will be back here in no time.”

“Do I even have choice?” he smiles softly. “Fine. Yes, I will have dinner with you.”

“I am glad,” he gently takes your hand and holds it for a few seconds before softly kissing your fingertips. “I will see you next Sunday then. Thank you.”



“I am a really weird person.”

“I know,” he nods and smiles. “It does not scare me off, if that is what you were hoping to do.”

Does anyone want part 3? I am not sure if this one is as good as part 1, but I really like the way it goes… So, yeah. Part 3, anyone?

I don’t understand you. Dear my– what are we? I can’t call you my lover because I am not in love with you, but you’re in love with me. Is it because of the flowers? I just wanted you to feel pretty. I guess I’m not looking for commitment. I admit it. You are right. I am afraid to open up. Scared to take chances. The irony, right? Love is all I write about, but I run from it. Why did you have to fall for me? Conversations under the stars, it was perfect. Feelings fuck everything up! It complicates things. We are drifting apart and I am sorry. I guess a big part of my identity is just not ready for love. The good ole’ it’s not you, it’s me type of thing. Fucked up, right? I think you’re attached to me, the last time I felt that way– it broke me. I’m not ready for that. There’s too much earth out there. Too much of the unknown. I want to see myself happy by myself before I’m ever in love with anyone again– baby, won’t you forgive me? No always and forever this time. No more hurting. Just a coward trying to be brave.

Sherlock - PSA

Since S4 ended I have gone through various stages of dealing with what once was my favourite show. I have to admit that I only rewatched The Lying Detective once and I can’t bring myself to rewatch the other two episodes because I am still so angry… (I am straight) and I am/ was always fascinated by John and Sherlock’s relationship, the love they have for each other and of course, I am well aware what it would have meant if this love had been openly acknowledged … and that’s just one of the (many) reasons why I am still deeply irritated by the way Moftiss et al chose to write this fourth series. I mean, what the heck? Anyway, this has been said a thousand times before and so much better as well, but as a consequence I wanted nothing to do with Sherlock for a while, stepped away from tumblr, lost hundreds of followers… and it’s only in the last weeks that I found pleasure again in coming back here sometimes and to look at and reblog all the great Sherlock and especially Johnlock fanart. Well, yes, that’s what I wanted to say, even though it’s not that much… ;) … and I’m glad that a lot of my followers are still here! Thank you for that xx

Originally posted by whenisayrunrun

So after seeing these posts by @owldart for @doodledrawsthings‘ Hell’s Studio Au, I realized I needed to write something for it! Because I am a HUGE sucker for body swap stories. This was a lot of fun to write, but it came out… Quite a lot larger than I had anticipated! I hope you enjoy!

Word Count:  8,489

The feeling of ink-covered hair on his own head was a surreal one. To the point where Bendy had a hard time grasping what exactly he was touching. On top of that, his hand felt weird. Why was that? Having gallons of ink dumped on him was something that he didn’t want to admit he was used to, but this time seemed to have messed with his senses something fierce. If Sammy hadn’t turned back into an ink monster, had Bendy gone off model again? Gracious, he hoped not.

“Aw man, what a trip…” he moaned. Was there ink in his ears, or did he sound a little different? He rubbed his hand along his head, shuddering slightly as the stringy texture passed between his fingers, “Hey Sammy, am I meltin’ or just–” he stopped when he reached the top of his head. Where he would have normally found the dip between his horns, he didn’t feel… Well, anything. Just more head.

“Drippin’?” he croaked. At that point he realized that the voice he was using was certainly not his. He couldn’t pin whose it was, but it did sound familiar… His eyes popped open, and he was met with a pale, five-fingered hand.

Sammy was quickly catching on himself. He had kept his eyes closed for a while now, a surge of dread washing over him like a devastating tidal wave. He didn’t feel like himself; he felt cold and unnatural. Defined in shape, but able to melt and sink into the surrounding ink at any moment–and he knew that only meant one thing: he was an ink monster yet again. He grit his teeth and dared himself to open his eyes as Bendy spoke, though… Wait a moment. That was his voice that he was hearing. Why was he hearing his own voice, and with Bendy’s accent of all things?

Keep reading

Confessions ❦ Daniel Seavey

requested? • yes, by @avanunez13 (THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING!)

prompts • “It’s not like I like you or anything! … Okay, well - maybe I do.”

warnings? • perhaps some tears lost and maybe (maybe) some fluff

summary • You and your crush, Daniel Seavey, are hanging out with the other boys when they all start teasing you.

word count • 694 words

“You five think you’re so cool,” you teased. “Probably because you guys are in a band, with girls chasing after you all day.”

You would never admit to anyone that you were insecure about your friendship with the Why Don’t We boys. They were famous and you were not, and the thought that they might leave you behind often haunted your mind. Your friendship with the boys were amazing and wonderful - and it was definitely not unknown that you and Daniel were closer than you were to the others.

Daniel Seavey was someone you never would want to leave you in life. He is kind, caring, and has made you laugh through situations you normally would cry through. And with time, you realized you had a crush on him. You liked Daniel Seavey, just as many other girls who were fans of Why Don’t We, did. And it was extremely hard hiding it.

“I think that automatically makes us cool, Y/N,” Daniel shot back, a laugh escaping from his perfect lips. “What have you done that makes you cool?”

You smirked at the boys, quickly replying, “I didn’t think that the yolk of deviled eggs was mustard.”

Zach immediately turned a bright red, remembering an interview when they were asked their favorite Thanksgiving foods. “I’m still in high school, okay? I’m a baby,” Zach defended as everyone around him laughed.

“We all know you are, Zachy,” you cooed in that voice you use to talk to babies, trying to ruffle his hair. “You are two years younger than us, at the least.”

Jack, Corbyn, and Jonah all followed in suit, all three of them trying to cuddle and spoil Zachy. You didn’t notice Daniel wasn’t participating at first - you were too busy laughing at Zach as he tried to run away from the others.

Once Zach did manage to escape the living room of the Why Don’t We residence, you noticed Daniel sulking on the far end of the couch. With his arms crossed and his bottom lip sticking out, butterflies flew around in your stomach as you walked over to him. A huge, goofy smile was stuck on your face as you plopped down next to him. “Why are you in a grumpy mood, Dani?”

Daniel glanced over at you, noticing Jack, Corbyn, and Jonah in the background, all three boys wiggling their eyebrows at him. He turned away from you, bright red in the face, muttering, “No reason.”

Your smile quickly faded as Daniel scooted away from your place on the couch. You didn’t understand what was happening or why Daniel was acting the way he was. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d done something to make him mad or if he was pushing you out of his life on purpose. 

With the rest of the boys (minus Zach, as he was still hiding) snickering behind both you and Daniel, you reached out to touch Daniel’s shoulder. “You’re acting strange,” you whispered, the fear building up inside you.

“I’m okay,” Daniel snapped, avoiding looking at you in anyway. “Why don’t you go take care of Zachy instead of worrying about me?”

His jealousy didn’t go completely unnoticed, as Jack, Corbyn, and Jonah were loudly whispering about it. But, it confused you because what was Daniel jealous about?

You currently had more things to worry about. What if he didn’t want to be your friend anymore? Then he wouldn’t tell you why he’s jealous of whatever it is. As it was, him not wanting to be your friend didn’t make any sense. The two of you were fine before you started to tease Zach -


“Are you jealous because I was teasing Zach?” you asked, disbelief etched into your voice.

Daniel immediately turned around to face you, his eyes completely wide. “What?” he squeaked. 

“Are you jealous of Zach?” you repeated, that goofy smile building up again.

“It’s not like I like you or anything! … Okay, well - maybe I do,” Daniel admitted, sounding nervous. 

“No, he does,” Corbyn interrupted. “A lot.”

You turned to Daniel, who was turning red in the face.

“I like you too, Dani.”

hello, I am still kind of meh about my writing, but if you like this, request for one of the WDW boys! I have multiple lists of prompts reblogged on my blog, you just have to scroll down a little bit. :) please, request away!

BTS when their girlfriend likes the feels.


When you first started running your hands up his shirt it startled the crap out of him. He was not expecting it but when he saw you listening and laughing to the story Namjoon was excitedly telling he realized you didn’t even realize you were doing it. He calmly retracted your hand from under his shirt and gripped it so it looked like you were just holding hands. It has now become your thing to feel along his back when you two are cuddling but only when you’re alone. This is yours and his time. You make do with just running your fingers over his forearm when in public and because he finds it endearing he always tries to wear short sleeves or a shirt that can be pushed up along the sleeves.

Originally posted by leojuseyo


Yoongi does not do PDA. He prefers to keeps his private life just that. Private. But he knows that what you do is habit and you really only do it to him. He has learned to not mind it so much when it is just the boys but anytime there is someone he doesn’t know that well is within viewing distance he will gently remove your hand from under his shirt and try and find something for you to hold. Most of the time it is Holly because Yoongi reasons that if it is because you like something warm to pet then you might as well pet the best dog in the world right?

Originally posted by notjustaphase

*Quietly picks up Holly and deposits him in your lap*

“Holly looks lonely.”


He loves it. He loves it so much. When ever you are out and about, when you are just chilling at home, when you are with friends he loves it 100% of the time. In fact it is now so normal for him to have your hand on his stomach when you are back hugging him that if it’s not there he will put it there.

Originally posted by chokemejimin

”Jaaaaagiya…. my stomach misses your hand.”


To be honest I think he was a little unconformable with it at first. Just at first though. He can tell that this is not something you are doing on purpose so he tries to ignore the butterflies he gets each time he feels the cold air on his side. Because he knows that it will be followed by your hand. It took him awhile but he can now feel your hand rubbing his side without blushing. 

Originally posted by choke-me-namjoon

“Why am I so red? Um… I have a fever.”


This shy tiny mochi… Can not get enough of you always having your hand on his skin somewhere. Because each time he feels it, it is almost like you are proudly staking your claim on him. He knows that it is not why you do it because he brought it up after the first times you did. After explaining that it was a habit and you just like the feel of his skin he couldn’t help but smile. Even though he knows better he can’t keep the smug look off his face. 

Originally posted by c-stress

*Sigh* “Jimin-ah… You are doing it again.”

*Tries to wipe the smirk off his face* “What? No Jagi I am just smiling like I normally do. I swear.”

*Smirk comes right back when your hand moves from his side to his stomach*


This boy. This boy has no problem with you keeping your hand on the small of his back all of the time because every chance he get he has a hand on your inner thigh. It isn’t sexual, most of the time, it is just something he does so when you do it back he doesn’t think anything of it. 

Originally posted by maidxsama


It is not commonly known that Jungkook is ticklish so when you two were hanging out and you running your had down his side in a petting motion… He nearly fell off the couch. You were baffled as to why he was so startled and it took a minute before he could finally explain that he was ticklish on his side and to please not do it. Then it was his turn to be baffled when you admitted that you didn’t even mean to do it. But after a bit of trial and error you two finally decided his stomach was oddly enough tickle free. 

Originally posted by kookielife

“Okay so my side, the inside of my arm, are “nope zones” but my stomach is okay to pet… I think I am going to go die of embarrassment now.” 

I really enjoyed writing this react! I hope you liked it too!

Requests are open so please feel free to send in an ask! 


27kra analysis frame by frame, turns out fake + turns out a footage taken from a horror movie - ???

Hello TJLC conspirators and all people still digging to find some explanation for all that season 4 mess. Although I checked out your blogs and read metas from a long time, I didn’t have my own account, and the reason I decided to start one is something I recently noticed, which may or may not give some clues about something, i don’t know. I may be right, I may be terribly wrong, whatever, but the whole conspiracy itself is already one big madness, so I might as well drop something which may seem crazy or irrelevant to me…

People probably already analyzed it a hundred times, but I’d like to come back to the subject of thelostspecial.com and the whole 27kra thing. It’s unknow whether it’s a real official site established to mess with our minds, or an incredibly well done and entertaining fan made, but I think there’s something weird going on and the site’s content is definitely worth checking out. When you type thelostspecial.com/27kra/ you get a rather spooky, The Lost Highway-ish kind of gif which consists mainly of VHS-type glitches. Since I’m a huge fan of VHS, super 8, analog formats and all those glitches and deformations related them, I decided to split the gif into frames and look at them closer. Here I’m going to analyze what is visible on those frames (or maybe, what I can see). I won’t go on with guessing 27kra name, I’ll concern strictly on the gif’s content. There’s something that I noticed that I didn’t see mentioned anywhere on Tumblr (though I may be wrong and it could have been written already, and then I’m sorry for making sensations over old news). Okay, here it goes.

I’m going to post the frames in order. I’m going to write what I see on those pictures, which of course doesnt mean it’s right or anything cause other ones might see it completely different, and of course we cannot be sure of anything at all.

First off, we see something that looks like an entrance, or an exit, and a chunk of the corridor behind the “door”. That’s the first thing that came to my mind. It somehow made me think of Sherrinford, all that simple architecture, corridors and portals, etc., probably because of those numbers visible on the top and the bottom of the footage, it all reminds me of some sort of CCTV footage.

Next frame is just glitches… or maybe something more? If you look closer it seems like some very blurry footage of some room. You can see the black doors in the right corner of the photo, and just next to doors (or maybe a window?) on the left you can see a dark rectangle which might be a tv screen. Then there’s something dark on the left side, and on the bottom there’s something like a… white bottle??? Or just a bottle-looking glitch, which seems more probable. I swear at first I considered it just a composion of glitches, but now I see it as a room.

Then there’s THIS WEIRD SHIT. It appears at least four times in different variations, so I’m going to discuss it later. To see description scroll this writing. Now I’ll pass onto the next frame.

Glitches… anyone can see something in there?

“TV room” comes back again.

What the hell is that. A table with some books/CDs/packages (with some metal holders?)? And with something round? And on the left side there’s something like a floor and the wall? It seems as if someone took a photo of table (or whatever it is) standing just by this table. Table. Why am I even calling it a table? What the fuck is that? SOmEBODY HELP

Beautiful colorful smear of I don’t know what. Althought some people claim to see something in there.

A more blurry version of the “table”. I know it’s not a table - I hope someone enlighten me wtf it is.


And then there’s something that probably everyone already noticed. An eye. Or THE eye. I’ve seen people writing it’s Moriarty, well, that’s also the the first thing that came to my mind. I tried to find some photo of Moriarty looking down (sort of) so I could compare those pictures - I admit you guys are better at finding needed photos/screencaps, here’s the best I could find:

I cut it just to have an eye in the center. Not exactly the same position, but it doesn’t matter. I think they didn’t show him with eyebrows cause it wouldn’t be easier to see the similarity (IF there are some THEY, IF it is who we think it is.) Containing Moriarty in the footage would be a real sign that something wicked this way comes.
But, I don’t know. Someone told me it might be John Watson’s eye, which would fit the shot-in-the-eye theory. What do you think about it?

Another (or the very same room). A kind of cluttered room…

This one seems like a look at the room from above, maybe another CCTV angle. I think it’s the more visible version of the previous.What the fuck is that? A sofa? A coffeetable? Why am I seeing tables everywhere? And what’s that purple thing?


Please let me paste the frame which I passed
Here’s what follows just after the CCTV-looking frame

I may be going mad but ISN’T IT A FUCKING FACE IN HERE?! I mean-

That’s how i see it. The face seems to be tilted back. If you look at the higher resolution screen you can see it seems nose-like and eye-like. The “hair” seem to be long and straight, so it’s a woman? Not a woman? Eurus? Not Eurus? Whoever? Or is it just glitches? But if you look at other frames by the end of the gif you can see “the face” sort of MOVES:

It’s tilted back a little bit more and turned in its left a little. Here’s the same thing in negative:

The things that follow:

BUT! I just now got this one idea… a crazy, fucked up idea, it definitely is insane and probably wrong, but…

Of course, of course I know it might me fake, something put together by some Sherlock fan, or whatever the fuck else. But something tells me it’s not. This COULD be the real thing, right? So, what does it tell us, fans/The Great Game players? At best: something’s coming, something’s happening, you’re on the right path. At worst: someone’s mocking us and though to me it’s highly enjoyable, it’s not Mofftis and we’re seeing things (IT’S JUST THAT THERE’S TOO MUCH OF THOSE SUPPOSEDLY NONEXISTENT THINGS TO SEE, COUGH COUGH). Either way, we’re being experimented on. I don’t know about you, but either way it’s awesome. For the first time from a long time i’m having real fun, and trust me, that’s a lot.
But, for real. If it’s just a fake and we’re all wrong, I would be highly disappointed. THIS ALL IS TOO GREAT, TO GENIUS, TOO ENJOYABLE TO RESULT IN NOTHING. And it means I’ve spent four hours on putting together a writing about something that doesn’t exist. To be honest, I’ve spent too much time on analyzing unreal things and searching for subliminal satanic messages in something very fucked up just to aknowledge it was all in vain. And now I’m just too mindfucked over this and other things that all of you post every day…
Maybe I got excited over something not relevant or already discussed, i don’t know, you decide. But i needed to throw it out somewhere. Please tell me what you think about it, and if you have something new to add about it or ask me about anything don’t be afraid to do it. I’m more than eager to discuss with you guys. Maybe I sound like a crazy person but it’s their fault, not ours, right?

originally posted by allthesherlockgifs

I’m new here but I decided to tag people that I followed before I even made and account and that I consider awesome meta writers - I’m not asking for attention, I just want to get in touch with people interested in investigating this difficult and mysterious™ case. So here it goes:

the-7-percent-solution   tjlc    jenna221b   inevitably-johnlocked     waitedforgarridebs       marcespot   marcelock

Congratulations and thanks to those who got through it and are still with me. Don’t judge me too hard, I’m shy and confused but yeah, here’s all of that, maybe someone finds it interesting.
- Bloody


UPDATE: Guys it’s solved. There’s nothing in there. It turned out that most of those glitches
can be easily found on Youtube as free samples of vhs glitches, except for the supposed
“Moriarty’s eye”. I apologize for raising hopes and making some of you excited about the concept, but it all turned out absolutely fake. I’m sorry. So sorry.

To somehow not to leave you irritated/disappointed entirely, here’s one last thing that still could be relevant…  There still could be some spark of hope because of the “Moriarty’s eye”. I couldn’t find it anywhere in premade popular glitches so it still could be a thing, maybe they just decided to do it easier way and paste one important frame between some easily-found shit from Youtube. Though i would except more from them. But… isn’t it all about spreading confusion? Maybe it’s MEANT to be that way… It does make me wonder why is it just like that, and well, the aim of all this investigating is to make us wonder, so… you never know. Sometimes it’s all about finding ONE IMPORTANT THING between irrelevant pieces and chaos, so if you want to believe this theory, we have this one important thing, we have Moriarty. I don’t know what to think of it all, right now I’m a little upset, so i can’t tell anything else.

That was my more positive take on all of this, at least i tried to find some proof it wasn’t entirely fake/irrelevant, maybe you have something wiser to add here. But personally i’m disappointed. I feel like an idiot now. Seems I’m as bad wannabe-detective as Anderson. Or even worse. I apologize again. :(




  Unfortunately yes, I’ve seen it there. Even more frames. People on YT were guessing

it might be one of those cheap old idiotically-colored porn videos. Hmm.


  asked if it isn’t actually Mary’s eye. Here’s my answer:

Damn you might be right. The main recently reoccuring “secret” not secret villain is Mary, not

Moriarty, or Eurus, or Culverton. They seem to be almost minor compared to this hell that’s

currently going on with Mary. You know, the Murderous Mary, cofusion about “happy-housewife-Sherlock’s-best-friend-who-cares-i-shot-him” image presented in S4. She’s actually a most hated

character in fandom (aside from Irene Adler, lol) and her so called “development” in S4 is one of these things that make no sense.

This is all the logical and thinking part behind it. Now let’s have a look at photos for some comparision and, well…

I added the same sample of noise from the eye frame. The still is from Miss Me video message.

Glitches are confirmed fake but eye case is still open. What do you think?


Guys there’s something completely fucked up about this gif. It started from @memrysapendragon pointing out she found a short clip including vhs glitch stuff on twitter, this particular clip: https://twitter.com/secretcinema/status/793098416444375040  Then i found most of those trames on Youtube by searching “vhs glitches” tag. The video can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OUoA-dKQhtc

It doesn’t contain Moriarty/Mary eye and I think it doesn’t contain a frame with a “sofa and tables” from the CCTV angle above the room, which i compared earlier to Baker Street. Now i read the comment section again and i noticed some people claimed the footage was stolen from a movie called V/H/S/2. I googled it and it appears to be some shitty horror/gore movie made from a few separate stories, and one of them included someone finding old vhs tapes with “scary shit”.

A really shitty movie, i can tell from screens i’ve seen in graphics, and what i read about it in general, so i don’t recommend it, don’t waste your time if you’re not actually a fan of things like that. Couldn’t bring myself to watch this shit, so i can’t confim it’s true but some people wrote it’s from V/H/S/2. I don’t know. Others however didn’t even know the source of the footage and this youtube short is widely considered to be just a collection of samples which people download for their purposes. Hell, it’s been used in some promo video on this Twitter account, while this whole “Secret Cinema” account has nothing to do with horror movies.

Does it mean thelostspecial.com is fake? Or there is some purpose behind this confusion? It’s getting weirder and weirder tbh

No One Knows Part 6

Pairing: Eggsy X Reader

A/N: I mean… I really have no words



Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Originally posted by laquing

Eggsy called Roxy first, knowing she was most likely back from her mission in Brazil. She answered after exactly three rings, sounding completely fine and not at all like she had just spent a week toppling a rising warlord.

“Roxy!” He shouted as he jogged after JB who was most likely on Bean’s trail.

“Ow, hello Eggsy. No need to shout.”

“There is every fucking reason to shout! Tilde hit Bean! He fucking ran! He’s not in my house, Rox! I need your help!”

“I’m on my way,” She said before hanging up. Eggsy took a sharp turn to follow JB into a park. He was not going to call Y/N and tell her her son was missing. He was already going to have to tell her Tilde smacked the kid, the last thing she needed to worry about was her son disappearing.

JB stopped to sniff the ground before trotting away again. Eggsy slowed, following the pug closely, anxiety bubbling through him. He stopped suddenly when he heard a soft sob. He listened quietly for the sound again before looking around at a bush. Small shoes were peeking out from a small area between where the bushes met.

Eggsy moved closer and crouched down to next to the small area and there was Bean, hiding his face in his arms with his knees pulled to his chest. Relief flooded through him, but he still felt like his heart was breaking for the kid.

“Bean?” Eggsy said softly. Bean peeked out from under his arm, tears still brimming in his eyes. “Hey, it’s okay… Come here.” Bean moved towards him and Eggsy wrapped the boy up in his arms, thankful he wasn’t gone for very long.

“She hit me,” Bean whimpered quietly. Eggsy stood, holding the boy close just as a car pulled up. Roxy immediately got out of the car, her poodle following close behind. Once she saw the boy was safe, she relaxed.

“I’m so glad you’re both okay,” Roxy said as she approached. Eggsy rubbed at Bean’s back as he made his way towards Roxy’s car.

“Can you take us back to my place?” he asked, opening the door for JB and Roxy’s poodle, which she named Armani. He got in the front with Bean hugged tightly to his chest. Roxy got into the driver’s seat and drove them back to Eggsy’s home. He carried the little boy inside while Roxy followed. He comforted him, gave him something sweet so eat and assured him that he would never ever ever see Princess Tilde again. Bean looked up at him with wide eyes, tears still ready to fall whenever the boy wanted.

“Are we gonna tell mum I ran away?” Bean asked quietly.

“Well… I probably should, but I think it’s more important we tell her Tilde hit you,” Eggsy said, looking nervously at Roxy. She nodded at them both, a grave look on her face.

“That would probably be best. Should I call her?” Roxy asked. Eggsy gave her a tight lipped smile and nodded. With that, she left the room, Armani right at her heels.

Eggsy sat next to Bean, the adult waiting for his impending doom in the form of a very angry mother and the kid sympathizing with him. They waited together in silence until Roxy came back inside. She only poked her head into the house.

“I’m going to go pick her up from the hospital,” She said before she disappeared again. Eggsy looked at Bean, making a funny face. The small boy smiled, but it still wasn’t big enough, so Eggsy continued to make faces until the boy had forgotten why he was sad in the first place. He gently ran a hand over Bean’s head, ruffling his hair affectionately. Eggsy wrapped an arm around the boy, lifting him up and bringing him up the stairs to his room. He set the boy on his bed before he showed him all his cool, relatively safe Kingsman gadgets. Though probably not a good idea, but Eggsy didn’t care. Bean looked happy to be seeing some cool secret agent shit.

“So, are you really a spy?” Bean asked, looking up at Eggsy excitedly.

“Yeah, but you can’t tell your mum.”

“What about Ms. Roxy?” he asked.

“Her too,” Eggsy said, moving to sit next to the child on the bed. Bean flinched when he heard the front door downstairs slam opened, but Eggsy just sighed. “Stay here okay?” Bean nodded and Eggsy left the kid, shutting the door behind him.


Y/N slammed the door open, fear coursing through her. She didn’t know what had happened, but when Roxy called saying things about they had an issue with Bean, she panicked. She looked around inside, not seeing her son before she moved forward, Roxy behind her. Eggsy came down the stairs then and she looked up at him, worry and panic in her eyes.

“He’s okay. He’s upstairs,” Eggsy said, shame clear on his face. Y/N looked him over, confused now.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Let’s… talk in my study,” Eggsy said, gesturing away from the stairs and back further into the house. Y/N followed him to a room overlooking the backyard. There was a large desk and a bookshelf. She looked at him confused. Eggsy sat at the edge of his desk, antsy and nervous and she was sure she had never seen him like that before.

“Eggsy?” she asked, but he didn’t answer.

“Tilde… Tilde smacked Bean on the wrist,” He said quietly, not looking her in the eye. It was like time stopped, Eggsy holding his breath and Y/N trying her hardest to process the words he had spoken to her. She blinked at him slowly before she felt it. Rage, pure red hot rage was coursing through her veins until all she saw was red.

“She did what?”

“She slapped his wrist for grabbing her ring,” Eggsy replied quietly.

“Where is she?” She demanded. Eggsy got off the desk, raising his hands up in a surrender motion.

“I told her to get out, love. Please, calm down. I took care of it,” Eggsy said quietly.

“Calm down? CALM DOWN? YOU WANT ME TO CALM DOWN WHEN SOME WOMAN YOU HAD HERE BROUGHT A HAND DOWN ON OUR CHILD?!” She shrieked, not even bothering to stop her voice from raising. Eggsy tried desperately to shush her, but she grabbed one of the books off the bookshelf and threw it at him. He smacked the book away from him with ease, which only made her angrier.

“How DARE YOU TELL ME TO CALM DOWN?!” She continued, grabbing another book to throw at him.

“Y/N, please. He’s just up the stairs-” He was cut off by her throwing a much thicker book his way. He ducked out of the way and it smashed through the window. Eggsy looked behind him at the broken window, surprised before looking back at her just in time to dodge another two books.


“You keep saying our child. What do you mean, our child?” he asked, looking confused.


“Hey! I did not let her hit him!” He defended, having to dodge some more books. It took him a second before what she was saying finally sunk in. “Are you fucking saying that Bean is actually mine?”

“OH MY GOD, YES EGGSY! HE’S YOUR FUCKING SON! HE LOOKS JUST FUCKING LIKE YOU!” She shrieked, tears starting to fall from her eyes.

“That entire fucking time you were talking about me? How I left you? How I was the reason you named him Gary? Are you fucking serious, Y/N?!” Eggsy said, voicing rising into a shout by the time he finished.

“You NEVER came back! You looked for me for maybe twenty minutes before you moved on to a FUCKING Princess, Eggsy!” She stepped back when he advanced on her.

“I searched for you before me and Tilde even started dating! I looked for you for months! No one was willing to fucking talk to me! Like I had the goddamn plague! I went to your fucking parents!” He shouted, backing her into the bookshelf. “They said you were fucking better off without me! That you had fucking moved on without ever even breaking up with me!”

“You went to my parents?” she asked, tears still falling down her face as she got quiet.

“Yes! They told me you fucking got married! That you hadn’t spared a second thought about me at all!” Eggsy was downright furious. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me I’m the father?”

“You weren’t around! I was doing just fucking fine on my own!”

“You work a damn strip club, Y/N! How the fuck is that doing fine?” Eggsy snapped. She shoved at his chest to get him away and moved towards the door.

“Fuck you! I didn’t have to tell you anything! And I still don’t! Because if you haven’t noticed! Bean has grown up without a father for five years and he certainly doesn’t need one now!” She shouted, wiping her eyes.

“Wait, you’re not fucking keeping him from me after telling me I’m the father!” Eggsy shouted, anger turning into fear.

“Yes I am! You don’t get a say!” With that, she exited the study to go upstairs and grab her child, but stopped when she found him on the stairs. His eyes were watery and she immediately knew he had heard everything. She wrapped her arms around him and lifted him on her hip. Roxy was standing in the living room, her eyes wide as Eggsy came up behind the two of them. Y/N turned to glare at him before she grabbed her purse and stormed out of the house, her son looking over her shoulder at his father’s heartbroken face.

“Mum, but…”

“No, Bean. I can’t… We have to get home…”

“Mum, you’re crying…” Bean said quickly as he turned to look at her face. She wiped her eyes and continued on walking silently.


Eggsy sat on his couch slowly, eyes flitting about the room, but not actually looking at anything. Roxy sat next to him carefully, face contorted in concern. She gently put a hand on Eggsy’s shoulder and he looked at her.

“Did you know?” he asked, knowing she was much better at deductive reasoning than he was.

“Yes…” Roxy admitted.

“How long?” he asked, dropping his head to his hands.

“Since we first met them, I had an idea. He looks like you, Eggsy. But I got her to admit it a week later.”

“Why am I only finding out now? It’s been two months…” Roxy gently rubbed at Eggsy’s back soothingly.

“We’ll fix this, Eggsy. She can’t stay mad at you forever. Even about this.”

“Okay…” he said, but he sounded defeated and Roxy couldn’t tell what was worse. The look of hopelessness on his face or the dead look in his eyes.

CS FF: Missed Connections

Summary:  Emma Swan doesn’t think she’ll ever see the handsome stranger she spilled coffee all over again.  Killian Jones doesn’t believe he’ll ever see the beautiful blonde who ruined his shirt.  So they couldn’t be more surprised when their paths keep crossing, only to find that something keeps standing in the way of them making a lasting connection.  But when you keep meeting the same person over and over again in a city of 8 million people, is it mere coincidence or fate?  

Rating: G

Note: Thank you for your responses to Dare to Love.  This is just a fun AU I wanted to write.   Hope you enjoy it!  ~Steph

…Missed Connections: Part 1/1…

Emma Swan sipped her coffee and rolled her eyes at her best friend and roommate. “For the last time, I am not signing up for online dating,” she said.

“Why not?” Mary Margaret asked.  "I can’t even tell you how many people I know who have found their significant other online, myself included.  David is amazing.“

"I’ll admit you got lucky, but I’ve told you why not a thousand times.  With my luck, I’ll end up matched with an ax murderer.”

“And who’s to say you won’t meet an ax murderer randomly?  This is New York City, after all.  You never know who you’ll bump into.  At least these dating sites do background checks on their guys.”

“And if I randomly meet a guy, I can run a background check too.  I’m a bounty hunter.  I have my ways.”

“Suit yourself.  Take your chances out in the world then,” Mary Margaret said, shrugging her shoulders and taking a sip of her coffee.

“I will,” Emma said, standing up.  “I’ve gotta run.  I have a lead on a jumper.  See you later.”

Emma picked up her coffee and rushed towards the door.  In her hurry, she didn’t see the man walking in at the same time.  They collided and the top of her coffee came flying off.  The contents spilled all over his blue button down shirt.  

Emma’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she said, looking up at the man.

Her gaze met the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen on the most handsome face she had ever encountered.  A grin spread across Killian Jones’ face as he looked at the gorgeous woman before him.

“It’s okay, love.  No harm done.”

Emma shook her head and awkwardly tried to swipe at his shirt with the napkin she held in her other hand.  She tried to ignore the feel of the hard muscles of his chest under her fingertips.  

“Definite harm done.  Your shirt is ruined and this coffee is really hot.  You might have suffered burns.”

Killian smiled at her and touched her hand, stopping her movements.  Emma felt goosebumps appear on her skin at his touch.  Killian felt like a wave of electricity swept through him at the same moment.

“I assure you I’m fine, love.”

Emma dug into her purse. “At least let me pay for your dry cleaning.”

“That’s really not necessary.  I have at minimum five other blue shirts exactly like this at home.  I can simply discard this one and I’ll never even notice.”

“Let me pay for a new shirt then.  Maybe one in a different color,” she offered, chuckling nervously.

Killian looked down at her coffee cup where the barista had scribbled her name.  

“Emma, is it?” She nodded. “Please don’t give it a second thought.  I’m fairly certain bumping into you is going to be the best part of my day.”

Emma’s mouth hung open for a long moment, as she got lost in the ocean that was his eyes.  She finally dropped her gaze to the ground.

“Okay, if you insist.  Sorry again.  Have a good day,” she mumbled.

She brushed past him, as he watched her go.  Killian sighed as he stared at the door long after she had left.  He had never felt such an instant connection with anyone before.  If only he had gotten more than her first name.

It wasn’t until Emma was a block away that she realized she didn’t even know his name.  And despite feeling an instant attraction and connection to him, she now had no way of contacting him.  

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