#I got tired of having to scroll tumblr for 20 minutes to find a good reference for fanarts since without an account you can barely scroll!

[thatoneluckybee]

MORE ART FROM FREAKY'S INSTAGRAM

We got more sexualities confirmed and some fun new art for them!

As always please support her on her socials if possible but also Instagram sucks so it's perfectly reasonable if you don't use it

[circethegoblin]

STAYING ALIVE MASTERPOST, FROM A BROKE TEEN WITH ADHD

here you go. some down to earth tips on how to not die metally nor physically.

tired of those "drink three liters of water everyday uwu" and "wake up at 5 am" and "buy a bath bomb and a fec mask and some other things you don't have the money for" shit? i'm here for ya.

1. NOT DYING

eat at least three meals a day, one of which m u s t be warm and above 300 kcal (it can be istant ramen with an egg added if you have to)

you technically should shower everyday, but we know how it is. A change of clothes is sometimes enough.

DRY SHAMPOO AND BABY WIPES!!!

keep bottles with water everywhere. On your desk, near that spot on the floor you always end up sitting on, near your bed, basically whenever you know you spend a lot of time. No need to get up and go to the kitchen will help. Obviously change the water in the bottles as often as you can.

Get some form of physical activity. It doesn't have to be much, you can for example replace scrolling on tiktok by walking around your room and scrolling on tiktok! Brilliant, isn't it? Obviously, running or doing those 10 minutes workouts from youtube is better, but you are still getting like an hour of walking.

Buy blankets. Steal blankets. Summon blankets from other dimensions. Just make sure you have a lot of warm, soft blankets in your house. You will thank me when you won't have the anergy to wash your sheets (just take them off and throw some blankets on your bed), or when the power goes out.

If you have pets, ALWAYS keep spare food that'll last for a week for them.

things to always have in the kitchen: milk, eggs, flour, rice, pasta, yeast, cheese, oil, a leafy vegetable, onions, tomatoes, apples, patatoes, some flavourful sauce, sugar, salt, spices and an emergency chocolate bar. You can make a lot of food with those. Just make sure you won't eat the chocolate too fast.

Have a lot of spare batteries. A lot.

Get urself a flashlight, a lighter, and a pocket knife.

Remember the apples? eat one a day. if you don't like apples or you can't eat them for any other reason, you can take a kiwi, banana, orange, basically something that will give you vitamins and non processed sugar.

do the dishes before your sink starts developing it's own ecosystem

drugs from that one guy around the corner = very bad time

2. NOT DYING INSIDE

Open the damn window.

Don't watch so many commentary videos. You are probably not even checking the sources, so you can easily make unjust judgement, and like. did you even hear of half of those people before?

make a discord server just for yourself. get into the habit of writing little things that happened to you there. rant about the fanfics you read. or the movies. vent there if you don't have anyone you can vent to. write your ideas there, write e v e r y t h i n g. make a section for passwords, for quick ideas, for your to do lists. you won't lose it as you do with sticky notes or notebooks. there is no risk anyone will see it. oh, and when you'll have a strong impulse to tell emily that you hate her? write that message in your private server and list all ur arguments. look at tat the next day and decide if you really mean that.

life sucks. come to peace with it.

cuddle ur pets if you have them

1 hour a day without a lot of sensory input. if you have to, reduce to half an hour.

if you find yourself scrolling endlessly through social media, make sure it's pintrest (just don't compare urself to the people here; if you have issues with that, tumblr may be better)

delete. twitter. from. your. phone.

influencers are lying to you; maybe not even intentionally. remember when you were watching that cute-aesthetic-productive morning routine, and you were wondering why your life isn't that pretty? why your room is a mess? why you cannot for the life of god be aesthetic 24/7? its the filter. don't worry about it, their lifes arent that nice either.

realize there's actually nothing stopping you from screaming as loud as you can right now. like there is no physical barrier. think about it. realize there's no actual physical barierr to many other things.

your body is your body. you can decide how it looks like; just remember it's in your greatest interest to keep it healthy.

3. BEING A LITTLE BETTER THAN JUST ALIVE

If you wear make up, take it off before you go to sleep.

moisturize your body; everything is better when your skin doesn't feel dry

have a one brand of cosmetics that you love and buy things mainly from it. they often have sets of products that complete each other. i like ziaja. it's a polish brand, it's surprisingly cheap and has nice quality

cleanser, moisturizer, face mist

of you can, change your sheets once every two weeks

do the dishes before your sink starts developing it's own ecosystem

do a deep house clean once a month (don't beat yourself up when you don't tho)

keep your workspace organized (it doesn't have to look organized to other people, remember)

sunscreen

cook your own food

keep a calendar

no money for scented candles? got ya. make a simmer pot: throw some apple peel, a couple of cinnamon sticks and whatever spices that smell good you have into a pot, add some water and simmer. boom. your house smells good, and you haven't spend 20 dollars.

If you really like candles, buy scented wax melts. it's cheaper.

Buy urself scented mists. they're pretty cheap and will make you feel A LOT better.

keep your clothes clean. if you aren't sure if that shirt thats on your chair is dirty or not, throw it in the washing mashine anyway. better be sure.

if you can, make your bed right when you get up

wear clothes that make you feel good. put some effort into your outfits. really.

4. OTHER PEOPLE

be nice to essential workers.

if you have money, give tips.

remember, you do not owe anyone love; it is not something you can force. even if they saved your life. even when they helped you in your darkest time. if you don't love them, you don't.

you don't have to be in a romantic relationship to be happy.

if you want to, date! date everyone! date girls, date boys, date nonbinary people! date people completly different than you, date people from different countries, date them!!! just make sure they're kind and won't kill you. even if you don't end up in a relationship, you can learn a lot.

don't be afraid to piss off people that deserve it

smile to strangers :)

5. NOT FAILING SCHOOL

heard of dark academia? check it out

romanticize the heck out of studying

do not let your studying be just reading the same partagraph over and over again. it won't work. believe me.

seterra for geography, quizlet for everything else

try to make yourself intrestet in whatever you are studying (watch veritasium, listen to podcasts about weird history facts)

notes are for you and you only; don't worry about them looking pretty. doodle on margins, make weird metaphors, squeeze in as much info as you can.

when you're studying, listen to music without words/in a language you don't understand.

chew gum while you study

get the forest app, get attached to the trees, focus.

don't feel guilty for taking breaks

grades aren't everything, but they are important.

eat something in school

don't just use the cheapest pens. invest a couple dollars in something that will make writing enjoyable and smooth

those study with me videos? they're great

if you like to argue with the teachers, take care of your grades becouse. they may not like you afterwards.

be nice to your classmates and help them with homework. if you don't do your homework they'll help you

executive dysfunction won't let you study? been there. sometimes it's better to wake up ealier tommorow and do that homework then.

don't feel guilty for failing a test

go to the goddamn class

don't pull all nighters oh my god don't especially on weekdays

6. OTHER LIFEHACKS

don't get involved in the crime, and if you do always have a believable explanation why you were doing it

have different alarm sounds for every day of the week

set a daily limit of money that you spend

great hobbies that don't require a lot of money; urban exploration, writing, hiking and learning other languages

thrift stores

don't eat grapefruits while on meds

nail polish removers dissolve most strong glues.

if you have a cut on your skin, desinfect it. do it. please just do it.

always have pads with you. even if you don't get periods, at least one of your friends probably does

sign up in your local library. its free

[haechanniesunflowers]

Meeting the in-laws in Australia

Author's note(s): man I suck at writing, I have a really great story line in my head and I'm trying my best to write it like a decent quadrilingual (yes I speak 4 languages, no I'm not lying) human being but like I said I suck at it. I'm literally crying and reading such perfect fics written by people here, y'all are doing great. Also I put in some songs from my playlist pls enjoy.

Anyways, this is part 1 in honor of me reaching 500 followers (really appreciate you guys, even if we don't interact at all). Wait for part 2 and others okay bye.

Part 1

"have you packed your toothbrush?" you ask as you slumped on your bed, tired. You stare at the ceiling and tried to put your thoughts in place. Completely ignoring your husband's answer to your question.

"y/n? Hello?" Chris says, bringing you out of your trance.

"huh? Sorry I wasn't listening" you say.

"I said I packed my toothbrush but I can't find my razors and shaving cream" he said.

"where did you put it?"

"if I remembered, I wouldn't be asking you sweetheart" he smiled.

"it's your stuff, how would I know where it's supposed to be" you reply.

"spicy" he comments.

"and you can't handle spicy so stop this" you say, getting up from the bed and walking towards the closest.

He grabs your wrist and pulls you closer to him, staring lovingly into your eyes. You get shy and look away but he makes you face him again. You can see the love and desire in his eyes. Suddenly you feel conscious, he's staring at my imperfections. You weren't always confident about your looks. You didn't like your big eyes that weren't even the same size. You wished that your left eye was as big as the right one, or the right one could've been a bit smaller like the left one. And your nose? oh how you wished yours looked as good as Minho's. And your small pouty lips, why couldn't they be perfect like those kpop idol girls'. A million thoughts were running through your head and you try to free yourself from his grasp.

"look at me" he says, and you do. You look at the most important person in your life. He still gives your butterflies. His little deeds still make your heart flutter.

"what are you thinking about Chris?" your voive is barely above a whisper.

"how did I get so lucky" he swoons making you shy and you hide your face in the crook of his neck. He wraps his arms around you. In reality, even after dating him for 5 years and getting married recently, you never truly understood what he saw in you. He complimented your looks, your personality, your fashion sense, everything. But you didn't see what he saw. You thought of yourself as an average looking woman who got lucky by bumping into Chris at a party and stubbing his toe and apologizing profusely. And now here you were, almost 6 years later, in your shared apartment, Mrs. Bang.

"I love you so much Chris"

"I love you so much too sweetheart" he says and kisses the top of your head.

You caress his face and say "I'd prefer you not shave anymore, I like facial hair on you"

He grins in response "you know I can't, it won't match my hair and on top of that, I can't take care of it, it's a hassle"

In this moment, you decide to tell him about your worries. He's all ears right now and you can't help but share.

"Chris I'm nervous" you start, "I know I've met your family before but that was when we were dating. I was meeting them as your family back then. This time I'm meeting my in-laws. I don't know where it's coming from but there's this pressure and just thinking about it is making me nervous. What if they don't really like me, I mean we're staying at your parents' place for the first time together. I don't know, I fear they won't like me."

He takes you to the lounge and sits you down on the couch, him next to you.

"hey I completely understand and it's okay to feel this way. Your concern is valid. But I want you to know that my family adores you. Sure they were a bit skeptical when I told them you're from a different country, speak a whole different language and your culture is different, but after they met you, they had nothing but nice things to say about you, I always tell you that. Don't worry, they like you and just be yourself. They'll get to know you more and you will fit right in. Besides, 4 weeks is a lot of time for you to get along with them. Oh and Hannah is the most excited to have you over, she says she got a good vibe the last time and felt a 'sisterly connection' I don't know"

You smile but the worry doesn't fade away.

"okay we need to pack the final things, our flight is in 3 hours Chris, get up"

"I'm going to the convenience store to get my shaving stuff, you need anything?" he says.

"no, I'll get sick if I eat anything before the flight, get me some gum please" you shudder, you had motion sickness so you preferred to skip meals before travelling.

"okay I'll be back in a flash" he says.

You go back to your bedroom to do a final check of the suitcases. You hum songs to yourself to ease the tension, why am I nervous already? Chris is right, I should just be myself and try to fit in. You reassure yourself.

You pull your phone out and start scrolling through tumblr. but what if I don't fit in? what if me being myself isn't good enough and I'm a burden for them for 4 weeks? What if I let Hannah down and don't be the sister she wants me to be? Wait, I need to clear my head. This is just going to get worse if I keep thinking about it.

You play Sun&Moon by NCT 127 to calm yourself down while you wait for Chris to return and pack his final bag. He returns after 20 minutes and you two get ready to leave for the airport. He puts the luggages and bags in the lounge and heads to take a shower before getting dressed. You check your essentials in your purse and make sure the electronics are unplugged and only the main lights of the apartment are on, like your bedroom and the lounge.

You decide to wait on the couch for Chris to finish showering so you can take one yourself. Trying your best to push the tensions aside, you close your eyes and sing a song to yourself, a habit you developed during your time in university.

So I won't hesitate~No more, no more~It cannot wait~I'm yours~There's no need to complicate~Our time is short~This is our fate~I'm yours

You're so focused on your lowkey singing that you don't realize Chris coming out of the bathroom, getting dressed and standing next to the couch, just enjoying you singing.

"hey, I'm out, your can shower now" he says in a low voice, smiling towards you.

You get up and go to the bathroom, ridding yourself of your clothes and standing under the warm water. You wanted to stay like this for some time but time was short so you get going, not really rushing yourself. You come out in a towel to get dressed, singing Fly Me To The Moon to yourself. You walk to your husband, who's patiently waiting for you.

"let's get going" you say.

He takes the luggages to the car waiting outside while you make final checkings. windows locked? check. lights off? check. stove off? check. bed made? check. passports and visas? check. door locked? check.

You both get in the car and head towards the airport. After getting the necessary procedure done everyone starts boarding. You're sat next to your husband and listen to the hostess' announcement.

"Thank you and enjoy the flight"

With that, the plane takes off. You're still nervous about meeting your in-laws but being in a plane scares you more so you're kinda preoccupied.

You look over to Chris to see him sound asleep with headphones on. great, just great.

You decide it would be best to just forget that you are thousands of feet about the ground and listen to some music. (playing LAUV's i met you when I was 18 album). You pray for things to be in favour of you and close your eyes, it's gonna be a long flight so might as well catch up on some sleep.

to be continued...

[grenade-maid]

The thing about Tumblr is that sometimes everybody is reblogging news about daily atrocities and sometimes everybody is more or less reblogging the usual aesthetics and memes. So if you use the site to blow off steam, it's unpredictable whether the content will actually be there to facilitate that, and it's easy to start doom scrolling because you've only got 20 minutes for your break or you're tired from doing chores and just need to recuperate for a few minutes and you keep going down the dash to find that little bump of something nice to lift your spirits only to find out about more and more ways the world is fucked with no relief. Like, it's hard to believe that the site I've been seeing for the last 24 hours is the same one that was as fun and joyful as it was less than a week ago when destiel dropped. In that sense it's kind of like gambling, where I keep coming here for the rare payoff even though realistically most of the time it's either a total waste or actively detrimental to my mental health. But on the other hand I prefer being informed about the world from so many different viewpoints even though the news is always bad. Like my parents only watch corporate news and they end up getting wildly misinformed on a lot of issues, like Bolivia and Armenia and Biden. And I have made a lot of good friends here so it's not actually a waste I'm just overwhelmed. Anyway thanks for listening, smoke weed everyone I'm gonna work on my kanji flashcards.

[eternalstann]

Hey I just saw that's your anniversary on 5 days so happy birthday to you little thing! What your age will you be ? 😁 Plus for the prompt idea: what if Tom, your boyfriend, find a very old blog were u posted fanfic and all. But the imagines in there are steamy stuff about sebastian stan or Steve roger with rough sex and things like that. How do you think he will react ? Will he be jealous? Will he be angry even though it was a long ago ? Sorry for my bad English I'm French hehe ! Thanks u !

aww thank you my love! And I’m going to be 20❤️ I’m gonna write this like a continuation to the last oneeee, I love this idea xx

part 1

Tom would be super curious now to what else you did that he didn’t know about. He picked your phone up of the ground and navigated his way to your tumblr profile. You had fallen asleep on the couch, worn out from your orgasm. He scrolled and scrolled, everything recent was mostly just reblogs of things about him & the mcu. The occasional original post of yours and he had to give you props, they were pretty funny. He was really enjoying himself, he felt like he was discovering a new side of you.

Then he saw something you posted about a called a master list? What the hell was that. He clicked on the link and saw that it was a list of a bunch of other links and they were separated into categories. Sebastian Stan, Bucky Barnes, Thor, Steve Rogers, even Natasha Romanoff. But nothing about him. He decided to check out the Sebastian Stan one. He didn’t know what he expected. Maybe a collection of his movies, some pictures but definitely not this.

“Sebastians godlike shirtless frame stood above you, you’d never seen a more beautiful man” he scrolled down further - “his hard cock rammed into your soaking core, fucking you like no one else could” Tom was pissed. When had you written this? He’d known Sebastian Stan was your favorite actor but he couldn’t believe it. He didn’t know why he was so worked up, but he felt really hurt. Betrayed almost, and they were just words. He looked down at you sleeping, you were so gorgeous, the thought of you with someone else killed him inside. He looked through more- he even counted, you had written a whopping 27 pieces on Sebastian Stan. Not all of them were dirty, but if he was honest, the lovey dovey ones bothered him more.

He knew he shouldn’t, but his emotions got the best of him. He reached down and shook you awake. “What’s wrong baby?” You ask sweetly. Normally you’d be angry at him for waking you but after how good he’d finger fucked you earlier you couldn’t even be mad. “Do you want to fuck Sebastian Stan?” He asked and your eyes got wide. “Tom what the hell, no!” You exclaim, sitting up. “Then what is this?” He asks, showing you your phone. Your eyes skim over the screen and you realize it’s one of your old smut posts. “Tom that was from like 3 years ago- look at the authors note at the bottom, ‘I’m so excited for civil war’ you fucking dickhead” You shout at him, standing up and walking away. He feels beyond foolish now- he knows he fucked up.

“Baby, I’m so sorry” he whispered grabbing your arm but you shook out of his grip. “Don’t baby me” you answer sourly. You go to the kitchen and grab wine cooler, you need a drink to calm yourself down before you snap on him. “Y/N baby I know you don’t want to fuck him- I Just - I was so overwhelmed when I saw it, and you always talk about how he’s your favorite actor, I was just jealous and I’m sorry. I love you so so much-” you got tired of his rambling. “Shut up Tom, it’s okay. But it really hurt my feelings that you asked me that. You’re the only man for me” you tell him and Tom feels his heart swell. How did he get so lucky?

“I love you too. But who’s better baby, me or Sebastian?” He asks, lifting you up and sitting you on the kitchen counter. “What?” You ask, not sure what to say. He pulls off your clothing until you’re naked. He crouches down so he’s level with your pussy, “who’s better?” He asks again; this time he kisses the insides of your thighs. “You are Tom, always you” you coo, looking down at him. You feel yourself getting wetter with each second. How could he make you so angry and then so horny in a matter of minutes? “Good” he replies before placing his mouth on your core. Your head falls back and you moan as he tastes your juices.

He gives new meaning to the term, “eating out” . You were sure it was impossible for him to be making you feel so good. His tongue touched every corner of you before he began focusing on your clit. “Tom!” You nearly scream his name while he works. You can feel yourself getting close and you can barely breathe. Your legs begin to close around his head and he pushes them back open. “You gonna cum on my face?” He asks, looking up at you and you nod. Your hands grip his shoulders, holding on tight because you felt like you were gonna fall off the face of the earth. He licks long strips up your pussy, applying pressure on your bundle of nerves and you’re unraveling. You dig your nails into his skin as you cum.

You barely have a chance to process your orgasm before Tom pulls you down and flips you so your bent over the counter. “oh fuck!” You cry out when he shoves his dick into you. “You’re fucking soaked” Tom whispers, wrapping your hair into a ponytail around his fist and tugging you back onto his cock. You’re on your tip toes, head tilted back as far as it can go. Your eyes roll back when he pulls out and pushes back into you. “Tom, oh my god, tom” moans tumble from your lips as he fucks you. He’s rough, your hips bumping the edge of the counter which each thrust but you don’t care. “You’re taking my dick so good baby” he mutters, using his free hand to smack your ass.

You push back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust and all that can be heard in the kitchen is the obscene sound of him entering you and both of your moans. “Tom, please don’t stop, I’m gonna fucking cum!” You tell him and he goes even harder. “Cum for me babygirl!” He commands and you obey. Youre orgasm is more intense than the first, and second one. “Tom!” You chant his name over and over as he chases his own release. He grunts as when finally does, cumming inside of you.

“Fuck, lets just get married now” Tom jokes, pulling you into his embrace. “Gotta lock you down before Sebastian finds your little stories and wants to try the real thing” he kisses your forehead and you roll your eyes. “Shut up you goof”

[codyfernmorelikedaddyfern]

Romeo & Juliet - Duncan x fem!reader

Apparently, I can’t write about anyone else by Duncan Shepherd but I’m not even mad about it.

It is inspired by Romeo & Juliet by Dire Straits.

Description: When Duncan bumps into (Y/N), the young woman he madly fell in love with and dated throughout high school and university, he desperately try to fill in the blanks and reconnect with this woman from his past.

Warnings: Mention of smut and past relationships, domestic abuse, cliffhanger.

Word count: 7349.

Duncan dropped his empty paper cup in the bin on his way out from the coffee shop, his coat closely tucking him in his own body warmth in the gentle sway of the snow falling to the floor. The gentle puffs of vapour escaping his mouth reminded him how much he loved the cold weather and in his absent minded trance of watching the snowflakes dance their way to the ground, his confident steps were stopped as he bumped into the shorter frame of a woman, her nose stuck on her phone, scrolling through what looks like to be Twitter or Tumblr.

“Terribly sorry about that!” he managed to mumble at the sight of the young woman dropping her phone to the ground. They both reached for the device that bounced on the frozen ground, watching the shatters the fall had caused to the screen.

It’s only a few seconds after that his face read the features plastered on the visage of the girl in front of him. “Duncan?” her voice whispered, unbothered by the state of her phone. His eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Y/N? Oh god, it’s been a hot minute” he tried scoffing off the awkwardness from his shoulders. His blue gaze fell on the shattered screen “I’m really sorry about that, could I… Make it up to you?” he attempted, trying to push the tremor in his voice.

It was like their heart had remained dormant for all of these years apart and finally, the sight of each other’s slightly aged features kick-started the pumping of their blood to their faces. Her hair were devoid of coloured dye from their teenage years and back to their (Y/H/C) roots and a few wrinkles marked her forehead. He, however, did not change his hair, instead deciding on letting his facial hair grow to a well-kept stubble, the gap between his eyebrows now marked with the years as well.

Damn he had no idea how much he had missed her until she was now standing in front of him. And the years that had gone by since he had last seen her had only made his heart swell some more like it used to. “It’s fine, Duncan, I’ll just get it fixed” he had even missed the way her voice sounded. The young man nodded, reminiscing on the past he had shared with the young woman and trying to find his footing once more. “Let me at least take you for a coffee at some point?” Duncan attempted.

“Just, you know, to catch up?” the young man pushed further, raising his eyebrows in hope. A large puff escaped (Y/N)’s lips and she lightly screwed her beanie back on her head. “I’m in a bit of a hurry right now” her eyes darted out of his gaze, only to find a focal point in the near vicinity. “Not right now” she sighed before starting to push past him “maybe next time” her voice rang again as he watched her run away from him.

Duncan didn’t know how long it took but somewhat he ended up waiting in front of the cafe nearly every day, always at the same time. Until one day, he woke up earlier and made his way to the shop before he would usually show up and he saw (Y/N), nursing a cup of coffee while typing away at her laptop. Unwrapped from her heavy coat, scarf and beanie, he was silently reminded that the years had definitely gone by. It was like he was 17 and falling in love all over again.

When (Y/N) looked up from her laptop, her gaze fell into Duncan’s who offered her a small wave. It took him a couple of seconds to ponder his next moves while she returned the gesture, the indecisive throbbing of her heart making it near impossible for her to look at anything but the tall frame of the one she loved so dearly. The young man made his way to the table next to hers, taking the spot on the wooden chair. The young girl hoped he would just keep his nose in his drink, she hoped he would just leave her to her own device but he obviously thought otherwise, greeting het with a careful “good morning”.

“Good morning, Duncan” her voice whispered back as he sat down next to her. “How are you?” Duncan replied with a genuine smile, peeling off his own coat. “I’m alright, how are you?” she tried her hardest to smile but something in her stomach turned. It had been years but the lingering feeling was still here.

First loves as well as fist mistakes. She promised him he would always be special but right now, she couldn’t help but remind herself they were over for a reason. She reminded herself that, despite the 5 years it took for them to bump into one another, she should not fall in love all over again. But (Y/N) couldn’t help but melt at the soft honey like tones of his voice or the heavenly shades of blue dripping from his gaze. Small talk lead to slight giggles and reminiscing of the happier memories they had shared.

From new jobs to new life experiences, the 20 minutes they had spent talking flashed within seconds. She had settled for a small office position down the road from her apartment, she had moved after important events came and thrashed her life around and he drank her words, eager to learn more and more about the last few years of her life she had spent away from him. “If you’re ever tired of working there, I’m sure I can find a position for you” Duncan even offered.

They were not as young as they used to be, but the maturity that had bloomed through the years made them more calmed and composed. Adults. 27 years old adults. Duncan couldn’t help his heart from fluttering at every laugh his remarks would pull from the woman sitting next to him. How silly he had been to let her go the way he did.

“I see you got your phone fixed” his smile was bright, as if no time had passed, as if they had never been apart. “Yeah, thank you for offering, though, I appreciate it” her voice replied. Duncan fished for a pen in his coat pocket and went to scribble on a napkin. “Here, that’s my phone number, I think I changed it since the last time we talked” he handed her the piece of tissue. (Y/N)’s cheeks ignited again with pools of pinks and reds as she grabbed onto it, unsure on what to do. “I would very much like to take you on a date, could go to that Chinese you loved?” his eyes reached hers, hopeful to rekindle some sort of link with the young girl he fell in love with so many years ago and for who his heart seemed to still beat for.

But her gaze left his to look at the scribble once more. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Duncan” she breathed, her eyes falling on the door opening to a tall frame holding up a little boy. Her fingers stuffed the napkin in her pocket as Duncan looked in the direction of her gaze. His heart seemed to shatter while she watched her stand up, pressing a kiss to the cheek of the man and peeling the toddler out of his arms.

“Duncan, this is Sam, my partner, and this is Liam, my son” she sheepishly introduced her ex-lover to both of the figures. Sam’s hand reached forward to shake Duncan’s while she spoke again. “Sam, this is Duncan, we used to see each other a while back” (Y/N) blushed as she cradled the sleepy boy in her arms.

The sad blue gaze of Duncan’s fell into hers and he forced a smile to the three of them. Taking the last gulp of his drink, he excused himself to (Y/N) as he slipped his coat back on his shoulders, biting back the venom of jealousy coursing through his veins. “It was great to catch up, have a lovely day” Duncan dropped as he waved at her before slipping away from her view.

When she looked up to her boyfriend, the anger burning in his eyes made her aware she would be in for a ‘treat’. Silently pleading for him to keep it in. Sitting back on her chair, she gently stroked the chubby cheeks of her little boy, still half asleep in his mother’s arms. “Was it… His father?” his voice spoke in anger once more. (Y/N)’s eyebrows furrowed in annoyance and she bit on her bottom lip. “Why would it matter?” her voice spat as she gently stroked her son’s hair.

“Does he know?” Sam continued, crossing his arms around his chest and leaning back on his chair. Her eyes rolled at his comment and he smacked his hand on the table, making both (Y/N) and Liam jolt up. “I asked you a question, (Y/N)” his voice dripped once more, cutting old wounds open. “Do you think I’m that much of an idiot? I know who he is” Sam’s face pushed further across the table, anger exuding from his pores.

“He is Duncan fucking Shepherd. If anything, the child support he can provide would help you get out of that shithole you call you home”. His words cut through her like she was made of clay and he spoke daggers. “So I’m going to ask you one more time. Does he know?!” The young woman stood up after sitting her son on the chair, wrapping herself in her coat and tucking her (Y/H/C) locks under her beanie before pulling the child back in her arms.

“And I asked you ‘why does it matter’ if he is the father or not?” she spat right back at him, her face inches from him. “I’m done with your shit, Sam. If I wanted to be under surveillance 24/7, I would have dated a cop, not a banker” she finished, dangling her scarf around a neck before making her way out of the coffee shop and leaving him to sear in his own anger and jealousy.

Her feet carried her through the busy streets of DC as she held her little boy in her arms, letting him distract her from the harsh conversation that had transpired and what more was to come. His candid speech had the mother even forget about the interaction as she dropped the little boy to day-care and quickly made her way to work.

It’s only when she made it back home with her toddler and her fingers grazed against the napkin Duncan had scribbled his phone number on that she was reminded of the events of the morning. Looking at the digits penned on the tissue, she pondered on just throwing it in the bin. But the look he had given her before he left was convincing her otherwise. She had to, at least, apologies.

Well, she didn’t have to. She wanted to. So she did, keying in the number she read on the napkin, she typed in the shortest apology she couldn’t muster.

(Y/N): Hi Duncan, I would like to apologies for this morning. I would be happy to have a proper chat over a cup of coffee if the offer still stands. Best of luck, (Y/N).

Sent. Receipt. Read. Her heart stopped and she quickly locked her phone and placed it on the kitchen counter before joining her little boy on the couch. As Duncan tried his hardest to find the words to refuse. She had a whole new life now and his selfish desire to try and pick up the pieces he had broken half a decade ago. But he had so many questions burning his lips and begging to escape his lungs.

Sitting on the chair of his office, he played with his phone, twirling in between his fingers as he tried to formulate an answer to her text. The buzzing of her phone pulled her nose out of the colouring book she was working on filling in with Liam. (Y/N) rose to her feet and gingerly grasped her phone, turning it to see a text from Sam. It was his turn to apologies and without even asking for her piece of mind, he had texted her that he was on his way. Her eyes rolled and her heart stopped when another notification came through.

Duncan: Hi (Y/N)! No worries, it was bold of me to assume you would be free J. Would you rather make it a breakfast or a dinner?

(Y/N): Either sounds good to me, should we see how things are on Friday?

Duncan: Sure thing! I’ll check on you then. Great to speak to you again.

He was trying his hardest to hold back. He couldn’t be the needy teenager he was when she met him. A decade had passed since then and he could not allow his need take the better of him. Duncan was a man, not a boy anymore. However, she brought it back to him. The giddiness and the eager need to keep on texting her. It’s like they were back in high school, when they first met. Before the ever growing love that spurted from them. Before life got the best of them.

A sigh rumbled through her chest while she made her way back to her boy, her phone half-hazardly tossed on the couch while she praised Liam for his beautiful selection of colours he had picked for his butterfly. (Y/N) only left the company of her little boy to start cooking dinner. Looking through the half empty cupboards, she swore under her breath.

A knocking pulled her attention to the door. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion before she remembered the text Sam had sent her. (Y/N) went to open the door, the frame of the man standing there with a small bouquet of flowers. He made his way in the small apartment, his body language still exuding anger and discomfort.

As Liam heard the door, he quickly ran to hide against his mother, earning a small giggle from the young woman. But her smile dropped when Sam threw something else on the counter. “What is that?” she curiously looked at the large white box sitting on her kitchen counter.

“A paternity test for your new friend” Sam grinned at his girlfriend while she pulled Liam in her arms. “What do you mean?” her voice answered, laced with confusion and some tones of fear when her eyes dropped to his. “Buddy, how about you go and play in your room? Mom and I need to talk a little bit, okay?” the man went to stroke the cheek of the child who nodded, escaping from his mother’s clammy hands and scampering to his bedroom.

“Is Duncan Shepherd the father of your fucking son?!” his voice has hoarse and dry, a hint of alcohol making (Y/N)’s nostrils flare. She squinted her eyes, turning her face to the side as if she could avoid the smell of booze on his tongue. “I don’t want to talk about this, Sam” she whispered, stepping back from him, weary of what was to come. “Because I’m right, isn’t it?”

A few seconds went by with silence, only interrupted by the sharp blow Sam had just delivered across his girlfriend’s cheek. She didn’t budge though. She opened her eyes, tears welling and threatening to spill as the stinging handprint on her face turned into a throbbing pain. That is definitely going to bruise as he allowed himself to smack the spot once more at the lack of an answer.

“You are a coward. Hitting a woman” she spat at him while her tears streamed down her face. A third slap. The last one. “Sam. I need you to leave my house right now” she breathed between her tears as the ache did nothing but throb. The sudden realisation seemed to hit him. “I told you I was done with your shit. Get whatever leftover of decency and clarity of mind you have and leave” her voice trembled. His eyes were wide in shock as he tried to plead for her to forget him. But the only thing she did was to call the police as he cried.

The only way she got him to leave was manacled by the police officer escorting him out of (Y/N)’s apartment. “Ma’am, if you would like to press charges, I will need you to come to the station with me”. Her mind was pleading for her to follow him but all she could think about was the soft cries of her son in her arms. “I can’t leave my son alone, do I have to do it right now?” she asked and the officer shook his head.

“Come to the station when you are ready, but I would advise you to have someone over to discuss it. Domestic violence is very hard to go through and it might be best for you to not do it alone”. (Y/N) simply nodded while she swayed the little boy around. With a bang, the door was closed and the only thing left in the apartment was his little tired cries. The officer’s words rang in her head once more and she pulled her from the counter, considering the choices she had to avoid being alone. The gentle wails of her boy stopped before she could properly think.

(Y/N): Hey, I know this is last minute but could we make it a dinner? Tonight?

Duncan: Sure! Do you want me to cover it? I’ll meet you at wherever! J

A tinge of regret bit her gut when she texted him back with her address. But there was no ounce in her action as she just curled with her boy on the couch, the exhaustion having taken him to sleep. Another knock pulled her to her feet and she found herself checking her reflection. The impact had left a small bruise right on her cheekbone and she tried to hide it by fanning out her hair. When she opened the door, the large smile of Duncan quickly faded at the sight of the dried tears and the not well hidden bruise.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern dripping off of his tongue. All (Y/N) could do was nod and mention for him to come in. “I had an eventful evening to say the least” she glanced at the clock while closing her apartment door behind Duncan. “And it’s not even 8pm yet” she scoffed before inviting him in the living room. He watched her gently lean over the couch, covering her little boy’s face with tender kisses to wake him up.

His confused state brought some sort of qualm to her mother as he snaked his little arms around her neck, returning her kisses to her in a few blabbers. “Buddy, do you remember Duncan from this morning?” she softly whispered as he nestled close to her. His little head nodded and his tired face left the comfort of (Y/N)’s neck to look at the man. “Do you want to say hello to him?” she pepper his temple with kisses, gentle rocking him in her arms.

He whispered a little hello while rubbing his sleepy eyes before yawning and snuggling closer to his mother who quickly praised his politeness. “Sorry, Duncan, I guess this is a bit much to wrap your head around” (Y/N) chuckled. He reassured her, he surely wasn’t expecting his high school sweetheart to be a mother now but he wasn’t surprised about it either.

“Do you want to help mommy cook?” she looked at the little man who eagerly nodded before climbing down from his mother before scampering to his bedroom. “What happened?” Duncan attempted as he took a step closer to his hostess. “Sam got a little handsy and… Jealous, I guess” she rolled her eyes. “He convinces himself that any man around me is Liam’s father” she whispered, placing her cold hand on the swollen lump on her cheek.

Duncan seemed to freeze, her gaze averting his as much as she could but it pulled her right back in. “Your boy’s not his?” the young man wondered, slowly following his ex-lover to the kitchen where she started to pull together what could make a dinner. “No, to be fair, he barely was a boyfriend” she chuckled a bit, trying to relieve some of the growing tension caused by the conversation.

His blue gaze fell into the empty cupboards. “He didn’t particularly like the fact that I didn’t want to tell him who is” she carried on gently, “It’s not a conversation I enjoy having so I usually don’t answer when he asks”. Duncan seemed to piece together some dots. The worry stirred in Duncan’s stomach. “Did he ask if I was?” he finally asked after swallowing the growing lump in his throat.

(Y/N) nodded, pulling a large pot and filling it with water before pushing it on the stove. Duncan walked closer after a couple of minutes of silence fell between the two of them. “He even bought a paternity test to prove it” she scoffed again.

This was wrong, Duncan thought. He shouldn’t wrap his arms around her waist like he did. He shouldn’t rest his head on her shoulder. It didn’t matter if he had been hopelessly in love with her for nearly half of his life. “Am I?” he whispered as he felt her melt into his embrace. She really shouldn’t let her heart flutter the way it was when his breath fanned against her skin.

Her hands went to rest on his arms as if she was giving him a queue to hold her tighter against his chest. “Would you like to be?” she gingerly breathed once the thrumming of her heart got louder. “Why have you never told me?” Duncan pulled out of the embrace and for a second, he thought he might tear up. “Because I never needed to” she span on her heels, a comforting smile on features as she looked up to him.

“So… I’m the father?” his words fell out of his mouth, more as a statement than a question, with a rumble and she went to look at the floor. “No, Duncan, you’re not. Liam has just turned 3” she looked up at him. A heavy sigh left his chest but he wasn’t sure if it was in relief or disappointment. After releasing her own sigh and brushing her (Y/H/C) off of her face, she made eye contact. “His father was… a mistake” she admitted with a whisper.

“I never had the balls to tell him and he fell off the radar anyways.” Her arms crossed across her chest. “Are you… Doing okay?” he wondered as he looked around at the small apartment reminiscing of the empty cupboards. “The offer still stands from this morning, my mom would be happy to have you in the team” Duncan continued.

The rustling of feet came to the kitchen, bringing a happy smile across (Y/N)’s face. Skittish and shy, Liam quickly ran to his mother and asked if he could play in the living room instead of helping, his little heart filling up with happiness when the young woman gave him a nod. “I’m really sorry this happened” Duncan said when the sound of cartoons on TV rang from the living room. “Please let me order dinner, it’s not much but it’s some help, right?”

The slow sound of her whimpers snapped his attention to her and he quickly rushed to pull her in another embrace. His lips hastily found her forehead, covering it with tender kisses while she let herself cry in Duncan’s arms. “I should have never let you go on your own, I should have jumped in the car and followed you. It should be me fathering your children. It should be me filling your pantry with food and providing for the both of you” he whispered in her hair, her hold on him tightening as she clutched on his shoulder for dear life.

“If only you knew how much regret I felt the day we ended it” he breathed in the shell of her ear. Her hand left her grip on his back to reward him with weak little punches against his chest. But his grip on her never loosened.

“I had so much to give you, Duncan. I was so in love with you” she nestled her face in his neck, wetting the collar of his shirt with salty tears. “I still am” he gently whispered, dropping a soft kiss to her temple. “I promised you thick and thin, it was just such an awful timing and I am so very sorry” his voice trembled in his throat as her quiet sobs calmed down with his soothing embrace.

“You still love me?” (Y/N) quietly whimpered, pulling her face out of it’s perch to drown in the ocean blue of his eyes. The sight of her tearful eyes rid him from his speech, all he could do was nod. “I love you like the stars above” he breathed, losing himself in her eyes. “I’ll love you ‘till I die” he carried on before she gingerly pushed her lips against his, a gentle sigh escaping the both of them at the simple touch they had missed and craved for so long.

“Would you give us another chance?” Duncan’s lips quivered as he pulled from her lips and she nodded eagerly before joining their mouths again in a passionate kiss, his hands resting carefully on the small of her back while hers found purchase on his neck.

“Mommy?” pulled them away from one another, Duncan quickly turning away to hide his blushing cheeks. Tears welled up in the little boy’s eyes as he ran to his mother who quickly pulled him up in her arms. “Is your friend going to be mean to you too?” he softly whimpered against (Y/N), trying to give Duncan the meanest pair of eyes he could muster. “No buddy, we’ve been friends for a very, very long time, my friend isn’t mean” she shushed his tears by softly rocking him, her eyes catching the expression plastered on Duncan’s face.

“To prove I’m not mean, I’m going to let you chose whatever we eat tonight, how does that sound, little one?” he leaned closer to the little boy. Liam’s sad eyes turned mischievous in half of a heartbeat, looking back at his mother. “Really?” he asked her and after she gave another look to Duncan, she nodded. “Anything you’d like, honey” she kissed his chubby cheek, turned off the fire under the pot of water and went to crash on the couch with her boy in her arms and her man at her hips.

Hesitantly, Duncan perched his arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders, pulling her closer while little Liam snuggled closer to his mom. “So, what do you want to eat?” the man asked before watching the toddler stand tall, excitedly throwing his arms up and chanting “chicken nuggets” at the top of his lungs.

His mother looked fondly at him, not able to hold back a laugh before going straight under his tee-shirt to blow heavy raspberries on his tummy, having the boy crumble in heavy laughers against his mother. Fishing for his phone, Duncan quickly scrolled through his apps to find Postmates, quickly working through his own order before passing it over to the woman by his side. When she looked at it, she noticed he had already entered her usual “go-to” menu.

“You expected me to forget your McDonald’s order?” he chuckled while she picked Liam’s Happy Meal before giving him his phone back, a light blush on her cheeks. Her son’s face suddenly twisted and she didn’t even need a word to understand what went through his mind. “Potty?” she raised an eyebrow to him as a confirmation and he nodded before sliding off of her laps. “Do you need me to come?” she asked again as he shook his head, running for the bathroom.

They both could hear the scrapping of his stepping stool on the floor and a gentle chuckle shook (Y/N). “Does it hurt?” Duncan enquired as he looked at the angry shades of purples on her cheekbones. “No, not anymore” she went to poke it a couple of times. “You should put some ice on it” he replies as he stood up. “I’ll bring you some from the freezer” the young man said once more before navigating to the kitchen.

A heavy sigh left (Y/N) and for a moment, she enjoyed the silence surrounding her. It only lasted a few seconds before Liam’s voice rang from the bathroom. “Mooooooom! Heeeeelp!” the little boy whimpered and the young woman quickly rose to her feet to reach the bathroom door. “Can I come in?” she gently asked, pushing the door ajar. The little boy hummed as he tried reaching for the handle of the toilet. “Can’t flush” Liam whimpered as before watching his mother’s hand press on the handle for him. “Let’s go wash your hands now, you dirty boy” she teased, lifting her son up in the air as he giggled to the sink.

Following the gentle laughs, Duncan made his way to gentle laugh of (Y/N)’s boy while holding a flannel holding a few shards of ice. “Here” his voice softly whispered as he lowered the cold pack to her cheek. His hand landed on the small of her back while she watched him through the reflection of the mirror in front of them.

Liam broke the tension as he shouted a happy “Done!” by shaking his wet hands before being placed to the ground by (Y/N). Her body twisted gently, her hand resting on top of Duncan’s as he held the ice on her cheek and then, her eyes met his. Then his lips went to rest against hers with a gentle sigh, grazing the edge of her jaw with his knuckles.

But the tender gesture was interrupted by a loud knocking. Panic quickly pumped in (Y/N)’s veins. Her fearful eyes met Duncan’s once more before he went and fished for his phone. “Must be PostMate. I’ll get it” he pressed a protective kiss on her forehead before making his way to the front door to meet whoever was delivering their dinner.

The smell of fried food quickly filled the space and Liam jumped on the couch, chanting his praise for the fast food carried by Duncan. The young man chuckled at the little boy’s enthusiasm as (Y/N) joined the two men and helped unpack the content of the paper bags. The air filled with the gentle conversation Duncan started with Liam, taking an interest about the boy’s day care program.

Fondly looking at the pair, (Y/N) could not help but feel her heart swell. She, too, had never been able to dampen the quickening of her heart when she so much thought about the Shepherd’s son. She was just about 16 years old when she found herself falling for him. He had the typical bad boy demeanour and when he would take her out in his car to a shady alleyway to get high, she knew he was trouble. Even when after getting arrested and narrowly escaping juve, she couldn’t help but get drawn to Duncan.

While she watched them start to bond, she realised how much she had missed him and how much she loved watching his interaction with the toddler. She wished he had been the one to father the boy. She wished they had never been apart.

Duncan held the body of his girlfriend closer, the pad of his thumb ran across her cheek, wiping away tears that had spilled as while he made love to her. His heart sank in his chest as he watched (Y/N) burry her face in the crook of his neck. His grasp tightened and he finally spoke. “Why were you crying?” he peppered gentle kisses to her temple, another sigh shaking her frame as she held a sob.

“It might be the last time we see each other” she breathed out, her tears staining his skin once more. “I just love you so much, Duncan” (Y/N) propped herself against his chest to crash her quivering lips against her boyfriend’s. “And I love you just as much, babe” his voice trembled as the kiss broke off. “Someway, somehow, once you finish your degree, I’ll be here and I’ll woo you off of your feet and we’ll run away from DC” he reassured her tears away.

 Duncan knew he meant every single words that rolled off of his tongue. The only thing he needed was his girl and he would do anything for her. Even if it meant to let her go so she could bloom and focus on her studies far from him. (Y/N) stirred out of consciousness, falling asleep in the arms of the one she was so desperately in love. She hoped she wouldn’t wake up because it would mean that, in the morning, she would have to jump in her car and drive away from him.

But she did wake up and the pair of arms holding onto her were a cruel reminder of what was about to happen. Slinking out of his sleeping grasp, she reluctantly snuck in his kitchen, cooking what was their last breakfast together possibly forever. The feeling of the warmth of his arms clutched at her heart. But there was just silence between the both of them. They ate in silence, held each other in silence, and got dressed in silence.

 One last look at the clock made the nightmare a reality and with a sigh, (Y/N) sheepishly told Duncan she had to be on her way now. The young man nodded sadly, holding her heavy suitcase on their way down to their car. It was just silence until he loaded her belongings into the trunk of her car. She stood by the driver door of her car, tears flowing again on her face.

Duncan gingerly cupped her cheeks, tilting her head to kiss her once more as he held her tightly, holding back a sob of his own. “So, that’s it?” he whispered, his eyes looking far in the horizon of DC as he quickly blinked his tears away. He felt (Y/N) nod against his chest before their embrace was cut short.

She climbed in her car, lowering her window for him to prop himself on it, stealing a last handful of kisses, each more and more desperate as he felt his heart breaking. “We can do this” he whispered before crashing his lips against hers once last time. “I’ll never stop being in love with you, I swear it on my life” Duncan sobbed in front of her.

 He rarely showed his emotions in public, afraid it would give his surrounding the idea that he was weak but, when he was with (Y/N), his façade melted away. She looked at him in the eyes one more time as she turned on the ignition of her car. “Seatbelt on. And call me when you get there, we can make it work” Duncan said, grazing her jaw with his knuckles. She nodded before finally speaking, “Don’t wait for me, Duncan” she whimpered before closing her window as her heart shattered.

The young man watching his lover drive away, convinced that the distance wouldn’t get between them, convinced that his family wouldn’t get between them, convinced that nothing could take away what they had. But when his mother’s reaction to his heartbreak was a cold “At least now, you don’t have anything holding you back anymore. No more dead weight”, he could only realise how wrong he was to believe this could have worked.

“(Y/N)?” His voice whispered, pulling her out of her daydream. When she shook her head, she realised why his voice was so low, the upper half of her son sprawled across Duncan’s laps, a gentle snore escaping his tired body. She bit back a laugh when she watched the man’s uncomfortable position. “You can move, he’s not a cat” she chuckled before reaching back for the boy.

“I’m going to put him to bed” her voice made Duncan nod, slowly lifting the sleeping child in her arm, carefully cradling him. “Can I come with?” he whispered, smiling softly at the vision in front of him. After watching the young woman nod, he jumped to his feet and followed her as she walked to the boy’s bedroom.

He went to lean against the frame of the door, fondly looking at (Y/N) as she laid her son in his bed, quickly changing him into his pyjamas before tucking him between the folds of his dinosaur print blanket. As she bent over to drop a handful of kisses on Liam’s face, her eyes met Duncan’s adoring gaze, a wave of crimson staining her cheeks.

Her feet carried her to him and they made their way back in the living room. Her frame dropped on the couch, releasing a sigh of relief before she started to gather all of the garbage on the table, silently helped by Duncan. He sat next to her, looking at the woman she became. “I’m sorry I never called” she broke the silence, trying to dismiss the tight knot in her throat. “I’m sorry I never tried to reach out for you” she closed her eyes as if it would prevent the tears threatening to spill from breaking free. “I’m sorry I was always too busy and never tried hard enough to make us work”.

His arms linked around her and he pulled her close to his chest as she kept of pushing apologies past her lips, sobs shaking her body. Duncan ran his hands through her (Y/H/C) locks while drawing soothing circles on her back as she grew silent. “I’m sorry I never visited” he softly whispered, his hand landing on her cheek to caress her skin softly. “I guess I convinced myself that, if it was meant to be, we would end up together no matter what” he stroked her hair once more, his gaze looking for her teary one.

“Look” Duncan caught her eyes in his, “I have never been able to be with anyone else than you and I don’t think I ever will be able to” he shifted on the couch to sit up. “I think you’re the love of my life and if we were the right people at the wrong time, so be it. But I’m here right now and I have not been this happy since you left” her lips caught his in a soft kiss after he spoke. His words resonated with him, she had never been able to get over her passionate love for him no matter how hard she tried. (Y/N) unsuccessfully dated a few men and even a woman at one point, but no matter how much she liked them, no one could quench the ache that her heat suffered from her separation with Duncan.

“Let’s take this chance. Build off of what we left. I want you to be The One” his voice was desperate as he pulled her on his laps, his face now lost against the gentle skin of her neck. “We could be a family” he whispered, his hands flat against her back while she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, allowing one of her hand to lose itself in the brown of his locks.

“What would people think?” her voice shook through her throat while she closed her eyes at the gentle contact of Duncan’s breath fanning out against her flesh. Goose bumps ignited her skin. “Fuck them” he said blankly before pecking her neck. “Life has given me another chance at being with you and I’m not wasting it” his lips pressed on her throat once more and (Y/N) sighed. “I had no idea exactly how much I missed you until I saw you” she admitted, giving his chocolate locks a gentle tug at the sensation. Their heartbeat synchronised in a heavy and fast harmony as if they had never been apart. “Are we really doing this?” she whispered right as Duncan laid her down on her couch, his kisses becoming hungrier and sloppier as he hummed against her skin.

As crimson flushed against her cheeks while his lips stained her collarbones with wet trails, she clutched his arms tightly, her eyes opening in shock. “No, we can’t, not right here” she whimpered as he propped himself up above her. Duncan captured his bottom lip at the alluring sight laying upon him. His eyes, dilated and darken with arousal, captured her figure before pushing himself off of her, clutching her hands to help her sit up. “Feel free to stay the night, though” she softly whispered while jumping up to her feet.

Duncan scratched the back of his neck while looking up to her. “You can crash on the couch or… We can carry this on to the bedroom?” the blush on her face seemed to spread further across her cheeks. The young man stood up, his body dangerously close to hers while his lips worked their way across her shoulder some more before playing with her own mouth, his tongue reaching to find it’s long lost mate. His finger slide underneath her thighs as he pulled her up against his chest.

The only thing breaking the fiery dance of their mouths consuming one another was the short whispers she released, directing their intertwined bodies to her bedroom. Duncan gingerly kicked the door shut, satisfied once it clicked into place, he then stepped further in until clumsily bumped on the frame of her bed, having them both tumble on the soft mattress with a few giggles.

It was like they were 17 again and exploring each other for the first time, learning how to love and worship the other’s body. A task they both mastered.

His lips explored the supple flesh of her neck with a soft array of sighs and quiet moans from his lover. A couple of tears prickled her eyes and silently glided against her cheeks and the heaving of her chest pulled Duncan’s out of his worship to look at her teary face. “Honey, why are you crying?” he whispered, shuffling to lay besides her instead of resting between her thighs. His hand reached up to wipe away the salty drops unfurling on her soft features, a concerned frown pinching his face together.

“I just… I’m so in love with you, Duncan” she whimpered as her hand reached to rest of the stubble of his jaw.  “I want you forever and ever” her voice trembled so more and she bit down on her lip to stop it from quivering. “I’ve always said I was going to marry you one day” his face melted into a gentle smile as he pecked her lips. “And I’ve missed you so, so much” she finished in a breath as it fanned against his face, his eyes locked into hers.

His hips shifted to rest on hers once again and as his lips retrieved that sweet little spot he would suck on to drive her crazy, he released a raspy whisper to the shell of her ear. “Honey, remember that time we had to be extra quiet because my mom was sleeping across from us in that chalet in France?”. She eagerly nodded, her legs quivering while his tongue licked a wet and hot strip along she length of her ear. “Well, you’re going to have to make more of an effort to not wake up your son” he withdrew his face from it’s hiding spot against her neck and watched her bite her lips once more. Another nod rattled her face, this time more shy and reserved.

“Good. Because I’m about to make you feel how much I’ve missed you”

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Tagging the Killer Queen squad : @shenevertricks, @wroteclassicaly, @idespac, @psychobitchtess, @hplotrfan, @tea-party-at-wonderland, @langdxn, @hecohansen31 & @blakewaterxx

Just let me know if you would like to be tagged whenever I post a piece!

[qem-chibati]

So like. I was on my app, scrolling down Tumblr, while in bed, as you do; and I saw some posted some advice for when you were feeling down as some photographs. And I saw that someone wished that someone would transcribe it.

And I thought; the person who can transcribe it, is definitely not me because I can’t read much more than the headings.

But I bet I can find it. I thought. And I did - I google the article name and author, found it in the web archive and found the text version in addition to the full PDF of the original magazine.

Alas. I forgot to put it in my drafts to come back to, I have no idea where I was in my scroll, who was after it etc.

So to the void, here’s the article in question. Hope it finds it’s way to someone who also finds good things from it.

20 Ideas for Darker Days - Daniel Sinker

Punk Planet 21 (1997 Nov-Dec)

https://archive.org/details/punk_planet_21?q=“20+ideas+for+darker+days”+Daniel+sinker Image

A little Promade swept gracefully over your hair makes everything alright sometimes. It’s nice to know that when the world crashes down around you and it seems like nothing you do is right and that all the news you hear is bad and there's a hole in the ground just waiting for your foot to find it, that your hair looks beautiful. It’s not much, but it’s something.

It’s reassuring to remember that when you feel like the cards are stacked against you, there’s a pair of rollerskates at the thrift shop that’s just your size, waiting to be filled with you feet and taken for a spin.

It always amazes me that when things feel like they will never get better, grabbing a samosa from the Indian fast food joint always gives just a little bit of hope that they will.

When your ears feel like they can’t listen to another person tell you that your dreams are meaningless and that you will amount to nothing, it’s good to know that the volume knob on the stereo will never let you down.

Let the music wash over you so loudly that the neighbors from the building next door yell at you to turn it down. Just turn it up louder.

When waves of pain crash against your soul, it’s good to know that you can fight back the tide with a really nice pair of pants. Or a really hot shirt.

Or a slick pair of shoes. Or a punk rock belt (always double stud, always fashionable).

On those days when you just need to shut off and not let another bad thought doublecross your mind, it’s good to know that the TV is always broadcasting something inane. Sit down, shut up, shut off. It may be bullshit like Full House , it may be the Electric Company, if you're lucky it may be Xena Warrior Princess, but whatever it is, you almost always feel better when it’s over.

When the phone rings and rings and rings but still no one picks up, it’s good to know that your watch is still running. Still counting down the hours and minutes and seconds. Because as long as your watch runs, so does time. And it never runs out.

It’s good to know that when you feel completely alone, no matter how hard, no matter how long, no matter how loud—when you scream, your voice can never, ever be taken away from you.

There are days that it seems like everything is conspiring against you. Days when everything you touch turns to shit. Days that you just wish could end that very second. And on days like that keep in mind that that you have a place you can sleep, and when you wake up, you can take a shower and put on clean clothes and pretend it's a completely new day.

Always remember that the people who tell you to “smile, it will make you feel better,” are completely full of shit. It will probably make you feel worse.

At work when the boss is breathing down your neck because the phone won’t stop ringing or the printer won’t print or the shelves always need stocking or the customers keep having stupid customer problems, always remember that there’s an entire ream of paper and a whole case of white out and a really excellent stapler and a box of pens somewhere nearby and that all those things will fit perfectly into a backpack.

When both bike tires are flat and the car won’t start and it start to rain on your walk to the train, it’s so wonderful that the words “fuck you” can still elicit such shocked reactions from anyone you say it to.

And on days when the library doesn’t have the book you want and the record store doesn’t have the record you want, and the zine store doesn't have that zine you’ve been looking for, it’s important to remember that you’ve got all those things in your room and you probably haven’t checked them out in a while.

When you feel emptiest inside, you can usually fill that void up a little with a couple slices of toast. You’re not gonna feel better, but at least you’ll be full.

Even on days when your wallet is empty and the ATM machine rejects your card and you can’t go home because the credit card people keep calling and you don’t get paid for two weeks, the air and sun and the moon and the stars and the lake and the trees are always free.

On days when you feel like your eyes just can’t look at another person and can’t read another word, close them and press really hard until you see fireworks and the pain shoots straight through to the back of your head and you have to open them again, blinking back tears in disbelief that something so simple can hurt so intensely. Now do it again.

Giving the finger with both hands works so nicely to combat the feeling that everyone else in the room can do everything better than you, has more money than you, has better lovers than you (or a lover at all), and is smarter than you. The double bird is always so reliable for that. It’s even better if you do it under the table or behind your desk or in your pants pockets. Then it’s your little secret so fuck them all.

Running as fast as you can until you feel like your lungs are going to collapse and you fall on the ground, cutting the fuck out of your knee, gasping for air and yelling swear words at the top of your lungs is brilliant for making you forget about that broken heart.

For those times that you want nothing more than to be left alone, taking the phone off the hook will always mean that no one can get through.

On days that your feet ache from walking and your brain aches from thinking and your hands ache from working and your back aches from living and your heart aches from breaking, sometimes there really is nothing you can do to make yourself feel better. And sometimes, that’s enough.

[justanalto]

it’s q&a time!

tagged by the lovely @besidemethewholedamntime! 

1. What is the color of your hairbrush? light blue or red, depending on whether my hair is wet or dry

2. Name a food you never eat. there isn’t much I don’t eat, but if I had to choose, a very specific melon candy that just tastes nasty.

3. Are you typically too cold or too warm? too cold! I got too used to university heating and now I’m cold all the time

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago? willing myself to start my friend’s profile so I can build up my portfolio before deciding to get on Tumblr. or i was scrolling through Tumblr. i’m not sure. 

5. What is your favorite candy bar? i’m pretty partial to a good kit kat bar, especially because they come in so many flavors! 

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports event? how do we define professional? because I’ve been to a baseball game, but i don’t know if we’d call college sports games ‘professional’. 

7. What is the last thing you said out loud? one of the lyrics i was harmonizing along to absentmindedly. couldn’t tell you which song it was, though...

8. What is your favorite ice cream? mint chocolate chip! 

9. What was the last thing you had to drink? tea! leftover from this morning and kind of cold unfortunately

10. Do you like your wallet? yes! i bought it at camden market when i was in London last year. it’s made completely of cork and i call it my adult wallet because i spent my college career wandering around with my wallet on a lanyard/attached to my phone case. 

11. What was the last thing you ate? ....a salad

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? lol no

13. The last sporting event you watched? the super bowl, I think? after that they sort of cancelled sports

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn? either cheesy or caramel. no in between. 

15. Who is last person you sent a text message to? one of my friends, because we were discussing her diet coke intake

16. Ever go camping? i have! not for a long time, though. 

17. Do you take vitamins? i’m trying to on a regular basis, LOL. when i do i literally have to take a whole mouthful of ‘em. 

18. Do you go to church every Sunday? nope! 

19. Do you have a tan? i haven’t had a proper tan since July 2018 because i spent last summer in the north of england/interning in an office environment. and now of course we’re all stuck at home

20. Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza? Chinese food, because i can guarantee it won’t make me sick! 

21. Do you drink soda with a straw? it depends. is it out of a can or a cup? or a mug? where am I? if it’s a can, no, I’ll just chug it straight out. if it’s in a cup, probably. in a mug, i’m probably at home, so no again.

22. What color socks do you usually wear? white ones....

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit? i live by the motto that you can speed to exactly 5 miles per hour above the speed limit.

24. What terrifies you? heights, this goddamn pandemic and turning out to be worthless

25. Look to your left, what do you see? my door with my honors college hat hanging on the doorknob

26. What chore do you hate? washing the goddamn bathtub. i HATE cleaning tile grout.

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? the Australian students I met while I was on exchange. either that or finding nemo

28. What’s your favorite soda? ginger ale. is that a soda? if not then Pepsi. I do miss vimto tho

29. Do you go into a fast food place or just hit the drive-thru? usually i go in, but I can be convinced to use the drive-thru.

30. Who’s the last person you talked to? my dad. I asked him if he wanted me to make him a salad for lunch.

31. Favorite cut of beef? ribeye, probably. 

32. Last song you listened to? ‘Grow As We Go’ by Ben Platt

33. Last book you read? I’ve been stuck on the same book for weeks -- “Into the Interior’ by Michelle Cliff.

34. Favorite day of the week? it’s quarantine, what are days anymore. jk i’d probably have to say either Mondays or Wednesdays, mainly because I know what day it is due to the fact that there’s new try guys content. 

35. Can you say the alphabet backwards? ...no. but maybe i’ll learn to?

36. How do you like your coffee? past coffee and straight into espresso, and at that point, i take it only with the following dunkin’ syrups: thin mint, heath bar or red velvet. and then with a ton of almond milk. iced. 

37. Favorite pair of shoes? either a pair of gray ankle boots I got two years ago or my black flower-patterned sneakers! 

38. The time you normally go to sleep? 2-2:30ish? I’m trying. 

39. The time you normally get up? 9, but whenever on the weekends. 

40. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? sunsets for the sole reason that I’ve been awake to see the sunrise only a handful of times, one of them voluntary. 

41. How many blankets on your bed? three, although I have accidentally kicked one to the floor.

42. Describe your kitchen plates. they’re round and white with a floral pattern around the edges. it’s nice and pastel, and I’m pretty sure we’ve had these plates since before I was born. there are some newer ones, but they’re kind of the same. 

43. Do you have a favorite alcoholic beverage? anyone who knows me will know that i am an ABSOLUTE lightweight. i drink like a fresher, which is to say i drink mikes, Smirnoff ices, twisted teas, angry orchard and rekorderligs (rip rekorderligs, i haven’t had them since i got back from Europe and they’re fantastic). i also like pink moscato LOL. 

44. Do you play cards? not in the way of poker or blackjack? I play the kids’ games, like 21 and Big 2. 

45. What color is your car? silver

46. Can you change a tire? ooh, no...although I should probably try to learn...

47. Your favorite province? Tuscany province, because Florence is literally the only place I’ve been to that’s located within a province. other than Quebec, but I really liked Florence. 

48. Favorite job you’ve ever had? i’ve had maybe 3 in my life and while being a temp was enriching, i worked at a dunks for a spell and kind of found a family there! so that was nice. 

49. How did you get your biggest scar? went down a hill on a scooter, wiped out and almost got hit by a truck. it’s on my ankle. 

50. What did you do today that made someone else happy? ha....nothing? although I hope my family appreciates that i did the dishes. 

i tag: @swifteforeverandalways @crazyrichfilipinos @peacequack @coffee-esque and anyone else that wants to do it! 

[winchester-with-wings]

Best $20 Ever Spent (Peter Parker x Reader)

Requested on Tumblr by @book-loving--anime-chick with the prompts:  

Catch me if you can!

Stop texting me weird stuff so late at night

Give it back!

Word Count: 1500ish

Summary: You and Peter work at the local movie theater but sometimes have a little too much fun so you don't get scheduled together very often.

Posted this on my Patreon back on the 15th! If you want teasers and early access to my fanfics, consider becoming a Patron! I have 3 tiers at 3, 5, and 10

The managers were seriously considering no longer scheduling you two together.

Even if you asked to work on a Wednesday night for a completely different reason, they were inclined to reject it.

“Peter works that night.”

“So?”

“You distract him from his work,” they’d say.

Sure, you two were best friends and had fun working at the local movie theater but you didn’t really see it that way. The closing duties always got done properly. What does it matter if you had a few laughs and breaks to talk while doing it?

Maybe they saw something you didn’t? Maybe they were listening to you and your best friend Cali gossip about the crew and the rumors about who had crushes on who. You’d hoped that the managers were smart enough to keep the gossip to themselves too. Hopefully, they wouldn’t tell Peter that you had a crush on him.

No. If anything, they were inclined to keep you apart for efficiency. They had to do that with a lot of people too, schedule those who work best together and those that don’t get along or perhaps get along too well…

But they hadn’t officially said no to you and Peter working together all the time. If they had, they wouldn’t have allowed Peter to swap shifts with Ned on Sunday night.

Peter was a tease. He loved riling you up and messing with you. His proudest accomplishment was hiding in an auditorium, waiting in the dark for a solid 5 minutes until he could jump out and scare you. The boy was actually laying on the carpeted ground hiding behind the reclining chairs!

This is probably the perfect example of how you two didn’t work well together.

He probably should’ve been somewhere else doing his job but instead he’d disappeared and gone radio silent, the managers were literally calling for him over the radio and he wasn’t answering.

You were actually doing your job! Ushering the auditorium and picking up trash.

“Y/N!” He jumps out and shouts your name.

“AHH! Peter!” You shout right back at him, throwing an empty cup at his face before collapsing to the ground and covering your face. Your fight or flight complex was actually fight, flight, or fall. “Peter!” You squeal rolling on the ground and laughing. “You almost scared the pee out of me!” Peter hops over the reclining chairs with ease and tries to help you up.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps between his own laughing.

“No, you’re not.”

“You should’ve seen your face!” His laughing is renewed while you get back to work, finishing the auditorium. He’s kind--or perhaps guilty enough--that he helps you by wiping down the recliners.

Later in your shift, you’re texting Cali and telling her about Peter’s latest shenanigans.

“I think he likes you,” she suggests for the thousandth time.

“Nooo he’s just a pain in the ass. He annoys everyone. He’s like that with everyone. It has nothing to do with me,” you respond.

“Don’t put yourself down like that! I really think Peter likes you! You should tell him how you feel!”

“I can’t tell Peter that I like him like that! Then it really will be impossible to work with him. It’ll make it hard to work here and then I’ll have to quit…”

In his typical, annoying fashion, Peter grabs your phone the moment you’re about to set it down. No one’s phone is safe around him. But you hadn’t locked your phone in time either!

“Pete! No!”

“Give it back Peter,” the manager says from their position at Guest Services. He doesn’t listen to them. It was all part of the routine.

“Whoya textin?” he asks, getting ready to scroll through your messages. “Cali?”

“No! Peter, give it back!”

It’s probably a good thing that the theater is absolutely dead on a Sunday night.

“Who does Cali have a crush on? You guys talking about boys?” He wiggles his shoulders and smirks at you. You lunge at him, trying to get your phone back. He dodges you.

“Catch me if you can!”

You engage in a game of cat and mouse running around the theater lobby. He holds it high above his head. You can’t reach it. You pinch his sides and he giggles. Catching him off balance, you two become tangled on the floor in front of your coworkers and manager. Everyone seems to be getting a laugh out of it, including the two of you. But the fact that he still has your phone unlocked and is still trying to read your text messages has your heart racing for a completely different reason. He can’t see those texts! He can’t find out like this!

A guest walks up to box office. You coworker goes back to their position. The manager leaves guest services to come mediate and separate the two of you before making a scene in front of the customers.

“Peter, give it back,” the manager says in their authoritative tone. The managers are usually fun and happy but they’re willing to lay down the law when things get out of hand. Just in time too. Peter scrolls for .5 seconds and then hands over your phone. You lock it right away but you also have no idea what he’s seen.

Your shift ends at midnight. The rest of the night was nice and uneventful with less hijinks from Peter but still fun conversations about friends, school, and summer plans.

Peter has your number. You text quite often too. But never at 2 am when you’re both so obviously tired from working late.

Your phone screen lights up and the vibrations of it on your nightstand wakes you up.

“What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever spent $20 on?”

“Well hello to you too,” you text back.

“...” He actually took the time to send those three dots. “So what is it? Or better yet, what’s the best $20 you ever spent?”

“Uh...my iridescent hombre metal water bottle…” It’s probably not the right answer but it’s all you can think of. You and Cali both bought one on a day off at the mall and kept getting them mixed up so they have stickers on them now to tell them apart. “Now stop texting me weird things so late at night. Lol.”

“Don’t you wanna know my answer?”

“Uh sure.”

“Tonight.”

“??”

“I paid Ned $20 to swap shifts with me so I could work with you.”

That stumps you. What does that mean? Why would he do that? Yeah, you guys had fun working together but you could hang outside of work too. You saw each other at school too. So...why would he do that?

“Lol wtf why?” you send that after realizing you’d left him on “read” for about two minutes when normally you guys respond within seconds.

“Because I wanted to work with you tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to see you…”

“Why?”

Then your phone rings. It scares you. Enough that you drop your phone on your face.

“Hello?” you whisper, rubbing your nose. You fluff up your pillow so you’re sitting up in bed, fully awake now. It’s quiet on the other end. “Peter, I swear to god if you’re outside my window and are going to scare me, please don’t,” you beg. You chuckle when you finally hear Peter on the other end chuckling too. “Why are you calling me? What is this all about?”

“Y/N,” he says you name.

“Peter?” you say his name with the intent to make it sound awkward.

“What if I told you that I liked you?”

“Wh--” he cuts you off.

“That I bribed Ned to switch shifts with me so that I could work with you. So I could see you. So I could spend time with you. Because I…” he sighs, “because I like you, ya’know, like that?”

“Um...Peter…” you’re pretty sure your heart has stopped. You’re praying this isn’t one of his pranks. Peter is an annoying dweeb but he wouldn’t do that, right? That’d just be cruel.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Um...I might’ve read your texts to Cali.”

“Oh.”

“Do you really like me?” he asks. You don’t answer him right away, making him stew in the uncomfortable silence. “Y/N?”

“I mean, yeah, Pete. I like you. We’re friends.”

“But do you like me? Like enough to date me?”

“Oh um...yeah...I guess.” Peter sighs. Relieved? Happy? You’re not sure. Peter chuckles. You can imagine him running his fingers through his curly brown hair, the same way he does it when he finds that he’s passed a spanish test.

“So,” he sounds smug all of the sudden like he’s smirking at the phone. “Do you wanna go out sometime?”

“Pretty sure I just answered that.”

“But I wanna hear you say it,” Peter teases. You roll your eyes.

“Yes, Peter, I would like to go out with you. But first you have to answer one question.”

“Shoot.”

“How long have you liked me?”

“Oh, yeah...um...it’s gonna sound bad. But, uh, I kinda called dibs the first day you ever worked at the theater. And I’ve been bribing Ned for shifts every couple of weeks too.”

“Oh my god,” you giggle.

“Yeah, pretty silly huh?”

“No. It makes sense. But you know...once we’re dating, management is definitely not going to let us work together anymore.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to go on a bunch of dates.”

tagging: @faithtrustandpixiedust95 @thinkwritexpress-official @autoblocked @book-loving--anime-chick @abbessolute @overlyobsethed @bookworm4ever99 @whoopxd @therealcap @geeksareunique @potterwolf16 @frankie2902 @ravenhaviland @starksparker @gracehappyfeet @softdudebro @blckthrns 

[penetrashion-blog]

It depends on the profile

It depends on the profile that you set up because when you make a profile, you write a little bio about yourself, and my bio might be seen as a little more ‘out there'. I'm open to anything, like roleplay, so a lot of the time I get roleplay requests, more just because I find them fun no matter how unusual or bizarre they are. What excites me are uncommon and unusual requests that you wouldn't really come across. Life's too boring otherwise”I made $20AUD in ‘tokens’ (how payments were recorded via the site) my first night. 20 bucks for six hours of sitting around in my underwear, net­flirting with dudes. It wasn’t much, but it was more than I’d make scrolling through Tinder looking for someone I actually wanted to bone IRL. I knew the way to make real money was either by going ‘private’ (opening a private show chatroom that costs the user a certain amount per minute) or by spending many months on the site building up a following,­ just like any other chaser of internet work/fame!Being a cam girl, specifically, can be a great option for sex workers because it’s a lot safer than when you are with a client in person. Cam girls still have to protect themselves, of course; making sure people can’t find out their addresses or real names. Those are things that workers in all facets of the sex industry have to worry about, whether you’re a stripper or an escort. But cam girls have the privilege of working from their homes or a studio, where they don't have that threat of violence or diseases. Or they just don’t have to deal with a client having bad breath.Andra Chirnogeanu, Studio 20's PR Manager, also rejects the idea that this is risky or psychologically damaging work.

"It's psychologically damaging to stay 12 hours in an office getting paid a minimum wage," she says.Are there misconceptions about webcamming that you want to bust?Lana is a graduate who worked in real estate until the global economic crash of 2008 plunged Romania into recession. That is when she first took up video-chat. Her first day in front of the camera has stayed with her."Mostly they're nice guys, not crazy men," she says. "There are a lot of members looking for love. They want the connection. Some members want you to call their name. Or to talk to them while you dance and strip. I'm very honest with them - they know I have a boyfriend, and they know we are not going to have sex in real life."

Some of the girls broadcast risqué photos of themselves for free using sites like Instagram and Tumblr while others only use sites which require payment before viewing. When the clothes do come off, it can be damn lucrative: Domino estimates she hauls in around $US300 on a good day — although a bad day is zero dollars, and hours wasted. But it's enough for her to be completely self-sufficient, albeit weary of the whole thing sometimes. More concerning though are the handful of "true creeps" she runs into — the gents who aren't just pervs, but sexual threats. That's never OK, but the rest of the time, occasional criminals aside, the job sounds downright leisurely.I am angry and I am allowed to be, because I am tired of being put in a box. But what is most important is that I do not have regrets because I know what I am.Even so, it’s clear that Ona Artist really likes her job. People get into sex work for various reasons, but I think that what’s left out of the conversation around sex work a lot of the time is that some girls get into sex work autonomously because they want to, because they enjoy it, and because the money is good. Ona Artist got into camming because a photo of her butt went viral and she realized she could capitalize off of it. CONTINUED BELOW...

[magicalspacepanunicorn]

Fantasy High School Sanders Sides

Warnings- mention of violence. I think that’s it, anything else please let me know.

word count-1115

Summery- A fantasy high school where people go to hone their powers and learn how to control their different forms.

“Roman apologize to Virgil.”

“Why should I?”

“Cause you hit him. Now say sorry.” Patton put on their best mean dad face. “Fiiiine. Demon dude, I’m sorry.” Virgil nodded, too afraid to speak. “So, what’s your name kiddo?” Virgil didn’t respond. “Is he a mute or something. They asked your name.”

“Sorry- sorry, I just-just. I’m Virg-Virgil.”

“I’m Patton, this is Logan and he is Roman.”

“Salutations, apologies, I don’t normally look like this.”

“Yeah, he normally doesn’t have wings and he’s a huge nerd.”

“I’ve always considered myself more of a gee-”

“Nerd. You like stars and stuff, which means you are a nerd.”

“Sorry about them, they're always arguing.”

“I don’t mind. You said you like stars?”

“Yes, I find the patterns and constellations quite interesting. Why?”

“Oh, I like stars too. I watch them every night.” Logan smiled finally someone to share my knowledge with. “May I join you stargazing soon? I would love to share my knowledge with someone who will understand it.”

“Oh, um sure.” Virgil wasn’t used to being treated so kindly. The bell rang loudly just as a small snake came slithering onto Virgil, climbing its way onto his arm.

“Stay still, there’s a snake on you.” Roman whispered.

“Dee, you’re scaring them and while it’s great to see them not fighting each other, I kinda don’t want you to die.”

“Fiiiine.” Suddenly a boy appeared jumping off of Virgil, landing by Roman. Remy entered running, “Why am I so slow?!”

“Hey Rem, you good their buddy?” Virgil put a hand on Remy and helped him up from the fallen mess she’d become.

“Yeah, just give me a minute…. So, who’re these?” Remy peered up over Virgils shoulder to see the 2 people in phoenix-like forms and a little pixie.

“I think V said they were Roman, Logan and Patton.”

“Cool. Now, Virge, I heard on the way here that there was a ball of darkness involving a certain demon. Are you ok? Why didn’t you text me or Dee?”

“I’m fine and I didn’t have my phone on me, idiot. This is flying practice not drop-your-phone-from-a-20-foot-height-so-it-can- break class.” Remy looked serious. “I’m fine, promise.”

“Leave him alone Rem. He says he’s fine.” Damason walked over to Remy holding out his hand. Remy slipped a fiver onto it. “I bet him that I would beat him here and I did.”

“By cheating.”

“I never said we couldn’t change forms.”

“Whatever.”

“Excuse us but we need to get changed and I would prefer not to be a bird for the rest of the day.”

“Oh yeah. See you guys back at the room?” Remy and Damason nodded and started walking away. The others headed to the changing room. It only took a few minutes before they were all ready and heading home. Patton was waving Virgil off while Roman and Logan fought over the fact that Roman had stolen Logan’s tie.

“Hey Dee, Rem. I’m back.”

“Hi, Virge. Can you make dinner?”

“Nah, I’m too tired.” He let out a yawn to exaggerate his point. “And I’m not eating your or Dee’s food. Let’s just order a pizza.”

“Yes!” Damason called as he entered the room.

“I’ll order it, What do y'all want?”

“I’ll have a meat lovers pizza.”

“My usual.” Virgil sat on the arm of the sofa and started scrolling through Tumblr as Remy ordered pizza and Damason turned on the tv, making sure to turn the volume down until Remy had finished on the phone. “Pizzas will be here at six. It’s currently five-thirty.”

“I’m going to my room then, get me when they come.” Damason nodded. Virgils room was sparsely decorated, a few posters were on black walls and clothes were covering the floor. Virgil heaved a sigh as he collapsed onto the bed. He pulled a laptop out from under the bed and started watching make-up youtube videos.

“VIIIIIRRRGE! The pizza here.”

“Gosh. I’m right here!”

“I’ll eat your pizza if you don’t hurry.” Virgil got up and went to the lounge. “Gimme my food.”

“Here you go, one sausage pizza for a Virgil Ruby.”

“Thanks, Remy Yale.” Virgil stuck his tongue out after snatching his pizza from Remy’s hand. They all dug in while staring at what Damason had put on the tv, it was just a documentary but Damason seemed to be enjoying it. After the pizza was finished

Virgil got his black backpack from his room. “I’m going out, see you later.”

“K be safe.” Remy waved back to Virgil.

“I will be. Bye.”

Once Virgil was outside he took off his jacket. He spread his wings and took off holding the bag with his hands. He flew off to the tallest roof nearby and just laid there for the next few hours with a blanket and some crisps, for if he got hungry, that had been stuffed into his bag.

When he finally went back home he saw Dee and Remy snuggled together on the sofa with the tv. Virgil smiled and went to turn off the tv. He got the blanket from the back of the sofa and tucked them in. “Goodnight.” Virgil walked to his room and went to sleep.

Virgil had to be woken up by Damason after having ignored all the alarms he’d set. “Hurry up, we’re going to be late.”

“Slight change of plans, get on my back.” Virgil took off his jacket and lowered down, just outside the house, so Remy and Damason could get on. He flew them quickly to the school in less than ten minutes. “You never cease to amaze me.” Remy said getting off Virgils back after Dee. “No time to talk we need to run to our class, we’ve only got two mins.” They all ran down the halls to reach their double English class before the bell went. “Remy hurry up!” They reached the class Virgil shepherding them in before the bell went. “That was too close.”

“It’s your fault, you wouldn’t get out of bed. How late were you up last night?” Dee asked.

“Hehe” Virgil scratched the back of his neck nervously, “Like until 3 am.” Both Remy and Damason looked disapprovingly at Virgil. Virgil turned away and went to sit at his seat, the other two following suit. The class went ok, they were doing something Damason enjoyed so it was nice to see him putting his hand up for every question and getting all the answers correct.

After class Virgil was heading back to the training grounds, he often went there during breaks so he could breath and fly for a bit, it was the only place anyone was allowed to fly at school.

[ailithnight]

Heyo! Another fic for ya’ll. This one was inspired by two other posts. This by @all-da-fandoms and this one from @pirate-patton. Been working on this for a while now. Felt like Virgil’s Birthday would be a good day to drop this on you.

Title: Gifts from the Dark Side Words: 2945 CW: Angst. Lots of angst. Mostly angst. Kind of teeters on the edge of a panic attack but never actually becomes one. Some self-deprecation. Tell me if I need to add anything.

Tags: @moose-squirrel05, @didsomeonesayprince, @readeatfightlove13

They appeared every year without fail, for as long as the three sides could remember. Patton, Roman, and even Logan had long since stopped trying to stay awake to see where they came from. It had taken a lot of the mind to shrug it off as one of the idiosyncrasies of the mindscape. Of course, just as Thomas had, the sides had long since stopped believing in Santa Claus. Yet every year, without fail, 3 mysterious presents would appear under the tree without so much as a tag to say who its for or who its from. It was obvious to tell based on the wrapping whose was whose. Patton’s was always wrapped in light blue paper with the same print of puppies and kittens in Santa hats. Logan’s was sleek, blue and black in a plaid pattern, methodically wrapped. Roman’s always came wrapped in a shimmering gold paper that could easily be mistaken for polished metal, each time with a bright red ribbon tied around it in a perfect bow. Every year, the gifts inside were different, but no less thought out than all the years prior.

In years past, Patton had received a coloring kit, a light blue apron with white embroidery saying ‘My Cooking is Eggcellent,’ a photo album with a picture a day from that year, and even the Heart’s infamous cat onesie had been gifted by “Santa” last year. Logan’s onesie had also come from the mysterious gifts that year and years before had provided him with an astronomically correct poster of the constellations of both the northern and southern hemispheres, plenty of books of poetry and other literary works, and one year a scale model of a space shuttle in a bottle. The play on words there was not lost on the logical side. Roman had not been gifted a onesie last year, a fact that was a slightly sore subject to the creative one. But he had received a wonderful painting of a fantasy kingdom where a princely looking figure stood atop his castle, bravely facing a massive dragon. Before, he had been gifted the collective works of William Shakespeare and one year a massive, three-foot pen designed to look like a sword. Logan had taken pleasure in teaching the Prince of the old saying “The pen is mightier than the sword.”

The presents appeared every year without fail. In turn, there would always be cookies and milk left out and space left under the tree for the anticipated gifts. Those three would be left for last and after each recipient opened his, and in some cases regained enough composure from giddy glee, they would speak aloud, thanking Santa for the generous and thoughtful gifts. For more than 20 years, this was tradition. But around year 27, something changed.

Just a little longer. I just have to stay awake a little longer. Everyone should be asleep within the hour. Then I can drop them off and fall asleep. Just a little…bit…longer. Virgil stared dully at the computer screen, not even seeing the Tumblr posts he was scrolling past. He was dead tired after the last week and a half. First, Roman had approached him saying he was going to be in a video and Virgil had dared to have hope. It was instantly dashed when he had been showed the script. The script that portrayed him as a villain Thomas had to defeat. And of course, who better to help than Roman, Creativity, The Prince. And sure, the script was all like things he had said and done before, but he’d never been this heavy handed with it. Still, Virgil had played his role, the same role he had been playing for years now, and tried not to let the knowledge that there would now be 2 million more people in the world knowing of and hating him hurt. He didn’t really succeed with that. But that’s okay. That’s his job. Anxiety.

Between filming and editing and posting the video on the 19th and monitoring its reception and trying not to let all the “thank you for helping me with my anxiety” and “anxiety sucks, I’m sorry you have to suffer it too” leave stinging gashes in his heart, Virgil had hardly found the chance to finish his projects in time. Logan’s had been easy. The book all about Native American constellations had arrived weeks ago. Even Patton’s stuffed kitten, matching his onesie, had been completed a week ago. But Roman’s had taken a lot of work. The Prince had sulked after not getting a onesie last year, but Virgil just couldn’t seem to find the right one. Finally, he had settled for painting him something and he would learn to sew and make Roman the perfect onesie this year. The pjs closely resembled Roman’s normal garb, from the shirt and sash to the boot slippers and even a stuffed crown sewn onto the hood. Virgil was immensely proud of that creation, despite having only finished it a few short hours ago. Now it was carefully wrapped in the traditional gold wrapping, sitting by his door with the other two gifts, and waiting for the moment the others would go to bed so Virgil could sneak them downstairs.

While waiting and nearly drugged by exhaustion, Virgil’s mind wandered over the Christmas’s past. He could remember sneaking down every year, starting since before any of them could read or write, hence the lack of name tags. Despite never inviting him to join in the festivities, Patton always hung a stocking for him and filled it with little treats. Someone, Roman probably, would always top it off with those chocolate coal nuggets and one year, when the Prince had discovered his summoning prowess, actually coal nuggets. Patton had told him off for that when he discovered the black powder on the white fur, so it hadn’t been real again. Still, it was a harsh reminder each year that even though Patton was too kind to give him nothing, Virgil was still naughty and naught people got coal for Christmas. But Virgil would always ignore the stockings. He’d come down later to claim it before the treats were simply stolen from him. Instead, Virgil would set up the presents first, taking extra care to arrange them in just the right way. Then he would turn to the cookies and milk.

As much as he may want to just eat them all, seeing as they were the only Christmas cookies he got, Virgil would restrain himself. He drank half the milk and ate two and a half of the five cookies. While he reveled in the sugary sweet, he’d let himself pretend, for just a moment, that they weren’t for an imaginary Santa. He let himself imagine that the treat had been left as a thank you specifically for him. For three minutes every year, early in the morning on Christmas Day, Virgil let himself believe that the other’s appreciated his efforts, that they cared about him, maybe even loved him. But inevitable, someone would shift in their sleep upstairs and the illusion would be broken. This wasn’t for him. This was for Santa. And even if Santa was fake, even if for all intents and purposes Virgil was Santa, it just wasn’t the same. At the end of the day, his companions still cared more for a fairy tail than their real, living counter-part. The cookies would become bitter on Virgil’s tongue, the milk would spoil in his stomach. With heavy heart and light footsteps, Virgil would sneak back to his room. He’d close the door and climb in bed and try not to cry (loudly) as he fell asleep.

“But WHY?!?” Virgil jerked into consciousness at the sudden exclamation heard from the creative side. Confused, he peeled his face off of his keyboard, rubbing at the indents left on his cheek from the pressing plastic. He distantly heard a muffled conversation as bleary eyes tried to see and a tired mind worked to figure out where he was. As he looked around, his eyes landed on the colorful stack still sitting by his door. His eyes widened and horrified panic filled his veins as Virgil realized his mistake.

“I fell asleep. I fell asleep! HOW IN THE HELL COULD I FALL ASLEEP!?!” He whispered to himself. Virgil tried to breathe through his fear, not really wanting to have Thomas start the day with a panic attack. With great difficulty, he managed to put a lid on his own terror. “Okay. Okay. I can fix this. I can… fuck how do I fix this? I can’t. I screwed up. I’m a failure. Pointless, pathetic, No. Stop. Not helpful. Just. Breathe. Think.” Virgil continued to fight off his panic. After a few moments of calm breathing, an idea occurred to Virgil. A wonderful, beautiful idea. He concentrated on Thomas, sensing the hosts current placement. He was still in his bedroom, searching for something warm and festive to wear. A wry smile appeared on Virgil’s face. He scrambled out of his chair on over to the gifts. He grabbed the three boxes and sank out of his room, appearing in his new place on the stairs. He marched over to Thomas’s tree were a small group of presents sat addressed to various friends and family members. Virgil carefully cleared a space under the tree and added the gifts to the mix. He stepped back to inspect his placing, pleased by the way his custom wrapping seemed to shine out of the amalgamation of festive paper. He was about to leave when a thought struck him and he nearly facepalmed himself. “How would they know they’re here? How would Thomas know who they belong to?” He groaned. After a moment of deliberation, he darted into Thomas’s kitchen, finding the nearly empty pack of tags and a pen. He went back to the gifts, slightly upset about having to mar his wrapping with the gaudy stickers, but it was necessary now since I fucked up. He hastily scrawled names on the tags. Or, titles really, seeing as Thomas didn’t know their names yet and Virgil wasn’t looking to screw up any worse today. Once he was done, he stepped back again to appreciate his work. For half a moment, his hand reached towards the table where the cookies and milk would usually sit. Realizing his mistake, he scolded himself. “Stupid. Whatever. Now they’ll never know. They’ll never know…” Virgil quickly sank out, oblivious to the eyes that had been watching him from the top of the stairs.

Thomas had no idea what to make of the situation. Coming downstairs to find one of his sides there without him was strange in and of itself. For that side to be his Anxiety was even weirder. He had noticed the spike of anxious energy that had hit him 15 minutes ago, but it had vanished and he’d dismissed it. Then, for Anxiety to be messing with the Christmas presents was absolutely baffling. Surely, he wouldn’t be so bitter as to try and ruin the gifts he had gotten for his friends? Thomas was about to call down, questioning the dark figure when he abruptly stood. Thomas froze, watching him a little longer. Anxiety nodded to himself. He seemed to reach to grab something off the table, but stopped mid-way. “Stupid.” The bitterness there made Thomas wary and once again he almost called down. “Whatever.” Thomas was once more paused. “Now they’ll never know. They’ll never know…” The defeated tone was the last thing Thomas would have anticipated from his malicious, cocky Anxiety. He watched the side sink away and only once he was gone did Thomas come down the stairs and inspect the tree. The three new gifts were impossible to miss. He glanced at them, noting the names on the labels. Logic. Creativity. Morality. His other three sides. Gifts for his other three sides. From, Anxiety? That didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense. Thomas decided to summon the three.

“Creativity, Morality, Logic!” He called, the summoned sides appearing in their normal spots. Thomas didn’t miss the tear tacks on Morality’s face, the confusion on Logic’s, or the anger on Princey’s. He gestured to the three boxes. “Know anything about this?” Morality gasped.

“Our Santa gifts!” He wiped his eyes, tears drying instantly. “Why are they out here?”

“Santa gifts?” Thomas queried. Logic cleared his throat.

“I can explain, Thomas. We celebrate Christmas just as you do. Each year, on Christmas day, we have come to find a gift for each of us in that exact wrapping, sans labels, under our tree. We have all agreed they do not come from one of us, so it has been chalked up to the strangeness that comes of living in a mind. It is possible that, within the mind at least, Santa is real enough for the subconscious to generate these presents each year.”

“Oh. But, I saw Anxiety-”

“Aha!” Princey shouted, startling the other three. “I bet this has been some cruel prank on his part!” Morality frowned.

“Do you really think he would…?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him. He has been sulking an awful lot since the video. He probably wanted some sense of revenge for being bested.” Morality still looked uncertain and Thomas wasn’t too sure himself. Even though nothing else made sense in his mind, this still didn’t seem right.

“I don’t know, Princey. Don’t you think you might be jump-”

“ANXIETY!” The Prince roared, the summoned side suddenly appearing on the staircase, stumbling slightly at the sudden teleportation.

“JESUS Princey! The hell is wrong with you! I could have been asleep. What would you have done if you dropped me unconscious down the stairs?” Probably laugh at you, Virgil.

“Did you put these out here?” Roman gestured to the gifts and Virgil felt his throat close up.

“Wh-” He had to clear his throat around the forming lump. “What makes you say that?”

“Thomas saw you.” Virgil looked at the host, who was just watching the situation unfold. Virgil dropped his head, shame at having been caught, fear at having his weakness preyed upon, and maybe just a tiny bit of hope that if they knew it was him all along, they might actually warm up to him.

“I- yeah. I did it.”

“I knew it! You stole them!” Virgil looked up startled and suddenly there was a sword pointed at his throat, a seething Prince on the other end. He tried not to imagine that blade piercing his neck, pretending he wouldn’t be at least a little relieved to die. “What else did you do? Did you tamper with them?” Virgil didn’t know how to respond. It took a moment for the word’s meaning to sink in. He thinks I stole them. THEY think I stole them. They haven’t realized…Virgil refused to feel wounded, despite the ever-present hollow ache in his heart spazzing painfully. No. This is good. They don’t know. They think I’m just being a dick, but how is that any different than normal? Virgil forced a sneer on his features, convincing seeing as it’s the same one he always used.

“Why don’t you open them up and find out? Unless you’re scared.” He taunted. The thought of actually being able to see their reactions to his gifts was definitely not a motivator to his statement at all. Certainly not. Nope. Not at all. (Yes.) Roman’s seething intensified. He pressed the blade closer to Virgil’s neck, making the anxious one shudder, whether in fear or anticipation, he himself knew not.

“If this is a trap, I’ll run you through.” He ground out. None of the others said a word. Virgil took this to mean their agreement to Roman’s threat and Virgil once more shuddered. Roman held his gaze as he reached down to pick up the gold gift. The sword vanished from his hands, but Virgil was well aware that he could summon it back in half a heartbeat. The ribbon was removed, then the wrapped, and finally the box opened. When nothing sprang out, Roman glanced inside. Virgil felt a tiny sliver of pride when he saw the way Roman’s eyes lit up looking in the box. He quelled it quickly, not wanting to reveal himself after all this trouble. Roman’s eyes came back to Virgil’s, squinting suspiciously.

“There, not a trap. Can I go now?”

“If it wasn’t a trap, why didn’t you say so in the first place, Kiddo?” Virgil turned to Patton, noticing the shocked silence that seemed to cover Logan and Thomas.

“Would he have believed me if I did?” Virgil caught from the corner of his eye the way Roman’s grip tightened on the gift. “Now, if we’re done wasting each other’s time, I’m going back to my room.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t stolen them in the first place.” Roman grumbled. Virgil sent him a wry smirk.

“My mistake. Next year, I’ll leave your presents alone. Maybe I’ll just incinerate the tree instead.” Before anyone could respond to that, Virgil sunk out. The second he was back in his room, he collapsed on his bed. The computer had hardly made for a very restful sleeping place. Virgil was still tired and now with the familiar Christmas day heartbreak setting in, he wanted nothing more than to hide under the covers until the sun went away. And if that meant that by the time he went back to the commons, his stocking had been emptied… well, that was just part of the consequence for screwing up. It wouldn’t happen next year.

[shireness-says]

Lullaby

Summary:  The house is quiet. There’s a good reason for that, however - a very small, still fragile reason who they’re all loath to disturb in any way. ~2.2K. Also on AO3.

A/N: Here’s another little snippet from my rockstar!Emma/bartender!Killian AU. After my last piece in this verse, several people wanted to know if there’d be a follow up with little Wiley. Ask, and you shall receive! Previous installments can be found on tumblr here and here and on AO3 here; I’d definitely recommend you check those out first so you get the background information. Unbeta’d, in the true spirit of the original, and rated G. Title and the lyrics at the beginning and end come from yet another Dixie Chicks song. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

How long do you want to be loved?

The little house is quiet, which is notable in and of itself. Any place Killian Jones and Emma Swan (Emma Swan-Jones, really, according to the paperwork, if not public memory) is typically notable for the sound reverberating through it, between her music and his penchant for chatter and their shared love for their stereo system. But it’s quiet now, even if it’s only three in the afternoon.

There’s a good reason for that, however - a very small, still fragile reason who they’re all loath to disturb in any way.

Wiley David Jones is a mere eight days old, but he’s already become Killian’s entire world - a sentence that feels entirely melodramatic, and yet is entirely true. Meeting Emma, falling in love with Emma, had felt like a missing piece being found and slotted into his soul - a feeling of contentment and completeness he wouldn’t trade for the world - but holding his son for the first time is a different thing altogether: feelings of pride and fear mixed together with the sense that his world has suddenly been blown wide open and become larger than he could ever have fathomed. It’s awe-inspiring, really, and especially amazing that those feelings can be caused by something so small.

Killian’s been assured that his son is a perfectly normal size multiple times - 6 pounds, 11 ounces and 20 inches at birth - but that doesn’t keep him from thinking that Wiley is unutterably tiny, all his features miniscule and appearing unimaginably delicate. He’s a handsome lad, though Killian may be biased on that front, with soft wisps of dark hair and the cutest little nose. Killian sees a lot of Emma in their boy, in his chin and the shape of his mouth and the way Wiley is always moving when he’s awake (and often when he’s not) - not unhappy, just determined to be in motion, like he’s trying to find where the action is. Emma, bless her, swears the exact opposite, that their boy is clearly taking after his papa (“Just look at those ears, for God sake”). Regardless of which parent little Wiley currently takes after, Killian finds a certain amount of wonder in knowing that as the years pass, their little one will grow into his own person, a mix of the two of them that he’ll make entirely his own.

Technically, Wiley is supposed to be napping. Technically, they both are - sleep when the baby does and all that - and Emma, at least, is wise enough to actually take that advice. But Killian had caught some of the little newborn gurgles coming through the baby monitor as he finished tidying up the kitchen, and the noise had called to him like its own kind of siren song. Creeping into the nursery he and Emma had so carefully set up and decorated with pictures of cartoon zoo animals, he can see the little lad wide awake in his crib, pedalling his arms and legs like he’s attempting to run a race no one can see. And honestly, as long as they’re both awake, what’s the harm of having a little cuddle?

There’s an art to picking up a baby, he’s learned in the last week, a series of careful maneuvers to ensure that one’s infant is safe and secure and supported in one’s arms. But after eight days, it’s starting to become instinctual, all the intricacies of weaseling a hand under Wiley’s little neck and bum before lifting him fully into the air and into his arms, and Killian is confident is will soon become an unconscious motion.

“Hello there, little one,” he coos, and God, when did he become a man who coos? “Are you not sleepy yet?”

It seems ridiculous to Killian that Wiley isn’t tired, considering the very eventful week he’s had. Being born ought to be stressful enough, suddenly facing a wide, wide world with only the comfort of a few familiar voices to know everything will be alright, but he’s had a steady stream of visitors ever since. Liam and Elsa seem to be over at the little house on some excuse or other every day, though they do bring various casseroles and other meals, so that’s ultimately welcomed (even if Killian would like a day with just his wife and son sometime in the near future, thank you very much). There’s been a steady stream of quasi aunts and uncles parading through as well, only increasing the chaos. Ruby had dropped by the hospital, promising the newborn she’d teach him everything his parents forbade (a declaration neither Emma or Killian is particularly surprised by, but will try to remember as Wiley gets older). Robin and Regina brought over flowers and a lasagna the day after everyone got settled in together at home, fussing over the baby in a way that Killian thinks suggests they may try for their own addition in the near future. Belle and Will had generously donated some of their more gender-neutral hand-me-downs to the cause of clothing the little lad, and stopped by both the hospital and the house a few days later to introduce their own little girl to Wiley.

(“We’re going to have our hands full, won’t we?” laughs Will, gently and confidently bouncing the tiny lad in his arms like the more experienced parent he is. He’s probably thinking of one child leading the other into trouble some day and how much of a pain that will prove to be, but Killian is struck with a silly grin at the thought of two dark heads hiding behind the sofa or giggling as they run up and down the length of the bar on an evening one of their parents’ bands play at the Jolly Roger.

They’ll certainly have their hands full, and Killian can’t wait.)

The parade of loved ones isn’t likely to stop anytime soon; Mulan will be in town to talk business at the end of the month, having been sent plenty of photos in the meantime, and Emma’s family is expected at the end of the week, graciously granting the new parents a chance to settle in before they fly over from the States and stage a well-meaning and affectionate invasion. Killian is grateful for all the support; he really is. It’s been heartwarming to witness the collection of people who already love his son. But he’s just as pleased for these small moments to themselves, just him and Emma and Wiley.

In all seriousness, Killian is exhausted, and had planned to join Emma in bed for that nap. But as long as Wiley is awake, it seems criminal not to take advantage of every single moment. His one concession is to lower himself into the nursery’s cushioned rocker with the lad and at least get off his feet for a few minutes. Even better, the rocking might put both of them to sleep.

Not right now, though. Right now, Wiley is reaching up at Killian with tiny fingers from the cradle of his arms, and really, it’s enough to make any man melt.

“Whatever shall we do, my little one?” he questions softly. “You and I will need to pass the time somehow.”

Wiley just stares back at him, jaw dropped open in a little O, that adorable infant expression probably born of lack of muscle control that always looks like he’s in a state of open-mouthed wonder over his papa’s words. Killian would be perfect happy just to trace that expression with gentle fingers all day, revelling in the idea that his boy loves his voice, when he’s struck with an idea. A terribly silly, totally delightful idea.

“You don’t know this yet, little love, but your mama is a bit of a rock star,” he whispers conspiratorily, hauling himself back out of the comfortable chair to cross the room and turn on the sound system that is definitely way too elaborate for a baby’s room. Scrolling through his phone on his way back to seated comfort, he finds the song he’s looking for easily. “And even though she’s a rock star, she loves me very much. She even wrote me a song. Do you want to hear it, my lad? Want to hear Mama sing?”

When Wiley doesn’t openly shriek in protest, Killian presses play, making sure to set the volume almost as low as it will go to protect little ears and not wake Emma up from her well deserved rest. The quiet strains of his song trickle through the nursery speakers - a recording he has of Emma singing it - and he could swear that his little boy perks up a little, hearing his mother’s voice over the sound system.

“Yeah, that’s Mama,” he coos, lifting Wiley to rest on his chest. God, he’ll never get over that newborn smell - baby powder and something new and fresh and pure. “Just think of all the songs she’s going to write you, my sweet boy.”

“Are you really trying to indoctrinate him this early, Jones? I think he’s a bit young to be a fan.”

Looking up at the interruption, he can see Emma in the door, barefooted and hair still tousled from her nap. With a soft smile on her face and an amused twinkle in her eye at her boys’ tableau, she looks beautiful, though she’d probably wave him off if he tried to tell her that.

“I think Wiley will be a fan of yours regardless, darling,” he smiles back. “After all, you’re his mum.”

It never fails to amaze Killian, that his compliments can still make Emma blush after all this time, but there’s a telltale red stain to her cheeks as she moves to take the baby from him and perch on Killian’s lap so that all three are curled in the rocking chair.

“He’ll be a fan of yours too, you know,” Emma tries to argue back in that adorable, stubborn way of hers that Killian loves.

“Well thank you darling, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re easily the more impressive of the two of us. I mean, bartender vs. famous musician? There’s a clear winner there.”

Emma shakes her head insistently, leaning back with the baby in her arms to more fully make eye contact. “Yeah, but you’re Dad. The other stuff isn’t going to matter.”

That thought alone is awe inspiring, and Killian finds himself tearing for the countless time this week. Because she’s right, isn’t she? Just like always. Their little boy isn’t going to particularly care about such trivial matters as their profession and whether or not they can sing or write him a song, as long as he grows up loved beyond all reason. And Wiley will be, as long as Killian has breath.

“Thank you, my love,” he smiles through teary eyes. He lets the moment sit for a bit longer, trading loving gazes with Emma as their son fights sleep between them, little eyelids fluttering to stay open. There’s a comfort to this, emotionally if not physically, holding the two most precious people in his life safe in the circle of his arms. Finally tightening his arms to draw them closer, the moment may have been effectively ended, but he relishes the chance anyways to hold his little family tighter and feel the weight of Emma’s head as it comes to rest on his shoulder.

“In any case,” he continues in a more light-hearted tone, “I wanted to introduce the little lad to one of my favorite bands. Their songwriter has an amazing voice, I’ve heard.”

Emma offers as much of a shove with her shoulder as she can without disturbing the almost-asleep Wiley in response to Killian’s teasing smirk, but her cheeks pink up again, which feels like its own kind of victory. “Shut up,” she mumbles, nestling closer into his body despite the words.

There’s so many things he could say - teasing comments and grand declarations and everything in between. He’s already lost count of the amount of times in the past week he’s thanked Emma for their son - needlessly, she claims, but Killian knows better. But the crux of the matter is this: when life is more perfect than you ever imagined possible, can words possibly express it? Is it even worth the effort of trying?

Maybe; maybe not. Killian decides that in this moment, it just doesn’t matter, and chooses instead to drop a kiss on the crown of her head. “As you wish, love,” he murmurs into the part of her hair, still happy to follow any command she gives him.

The song may finish, and the house may descend back into back into silence once again, but the little family remains cuddled together in the nursery for a while longer, even after Wiley finally falls asleep. After Emma lays the baby back in his crib and wanders back out to the main living space, Killian takes one final moment just to watch his son sleeping peacefully before joining her. It’s funny, the way one’s entire life can change in the course of a week; change infinitely and enormously and for the better.

The house may be quiet, but his heart sounds with joyful trumpets, ushering in years of roaring happiness to come.

Is forever enough? Is forever enough?

[peachgreenteelemonade]

happiest little doggo

a dan and phil phanfiction

Why had he decided running was a good idea?  Dan panted as he jogged very slowly around regents park.   Okay maybe it was good for his mental health, but without someone to keep him company his legs felt like they had heavy weights strapped to them and the crisp late summer air felt like gelatin.  At least he’d gotten some twitter content out of it, that little lego man had really sang to his dark, cynical soul, and he stopped for a a few minutes (fifteen was a few) to check the replies.

This giant, soft, noodle body wasn’t meant for any sort of exercise, Dan thought as he checked his phone for the two hundredth time, slowing to a power walk.  Why couldn’t running at least be interesting?  Dan wished he was talented enough to exercise and scroll through tumblr at the same time.

Phil had known this was gonna happen.  The his boyfriend had laughed when Dan mentioned going out to exercise without a buddy.  Dan had felt so affronted, he could run if he wanted too, sure maybe he usually needed some other incentive, but he could motivate himself just fine!  He was an adult!  He let his annoyance fuel him as he started to lopsidedly jogging again, his gigantic feet slapping on the pavement.  

To be completely honest, Phil hadn’t been discouraging.  He’d laughed a little, but it had been more amused than anything.

“You’re serious?” He’d asked as he poured himself his third cup of coffee, his blue eyes incredulous.

“Yes, what’s so strange about that?”  Dan had asked while he pulled his running shoes on his clown sized feet.  “I can run anytime I want to.”

“Of course you can,” Phil had agreed, walking over to his laptop.  “I’m honestly just surprised you’re going outside instead of doing aerobics in the gaming room.  No one even had to lure you with a dog this time.”

“Oh ha ha,” Dan grumbled as Phil laughed.  “You know, you could come with me.”

“Yeah I love you and I’m glad you’ve realized exercise is good for you, but that’s not happening,” Phil’s pink tongue peeked out of the side of his mouth as he sat down to edit and Dan tried to mask his fondness with an eye-roll.

Stupid Phil, he could do what he wanted.  Dan thought in time to the beat of his feet on the pavement.  But he was regretting it now, maybe he could have stayed inside and done jumping jacks while Phil laughed at him for shaking the house.  

Dan checked his phone again.  20 minutes was long enough right?  Dan disregarded the fact that most of that had been spent on his phone and he turned to head home.  He stopped in his tracks though as he saw something furry in the middle of the street.  

His eyes shot straight to the mangy dog as if he was a dog-finding-machine and he jogged toward the creature before he even thought about it.  

The big dog was darting in between cars as car horns honked and tires screeched, but luckily Dan  ran in front of the car and it skidded to a stop instead of hitting the animal.

“Hey!”  A big burly man hollered, honking his horn from his truck, “Don’t run out in the middle of the fucking street!”  Dan just flipped him the bird as he knelt down in front of the dog.

“Hey puppy,” he murmured, “let’s get out of the street why don’t we.”  The dog just panted as Dan scratched its chest and he could feel its little heart pumping with adrenaline.  Luckily, the dog followed the tall man out of the street and sat quietly as Dan sat on a bench and examined the animal for identification.  

But its neck was free of anything but matted fur and probably a couple of fleas.

“No owner, huh,” Dan said, looking into the dogs brown eyes and scratching its floppy ears.  Its tail tentatively started to wag.  “That must have been scary, I’m glad a saw you.”  The dog whined a little as if in response and pressed up against Dan’s bare, hairy knee.  “Oh no,” Dan hummed, “Phil’s gonna kill me.”

He was keeping this dog.

***

The dog seemed to be quite attached to Dan too if the way she (yes she was a girl, he’d checked) followed him as he walked briskly to the nearest pet store was any indication.

“Come on doggo,” Dan said as the dog looked up from where she trotted beside him and he reached down and gave her a little scratch on the back of her neck.  “Let’s get you cleaned up and pretty,” he looked into her adoring puppy eyes, “you’re gonna be such a pretty girl.  I can see it already.”  Her long pink tongue rolled out of her mouth and she almost looked like she was grinning.  Dan felt warmth spark in his chest and he smiled, not caring about his dimple.  Exercise really was better with someone to keep him company.

***

Fortunately, the pet shop was only a few blocks away and when he got there the cashier knew everything he needed to get.

“We also have a groomer attached if you want to get her cleaned up,” the cashier said, Kiersten, her name tag read.

“That would be amazing, thank you.”

When the dog came out she was fluffy and clean and he could see that her fur was wavy and yellow rather than the tangled brown it had been before.

“Come here Winnie,” burst out of his lips and the dog bounded into his arms.  Dan giggled as she licked his face and internally scoffed at himself, it seemed like he was naming her Winnie the Pooh.  How on brand.

She let out a happy bark and Dan gave in and sat on the floor of the pet shop letting her cover his face in slobber and cover his black clothes with hair.

“She’s adorable,” Kiersten said, smiling as she knelt down next to him.  “Do you think you’ve got everything?”

Dan stood back up, lifting his bags full of food and supplies.  “I think so,” He replied, still smiling at Winnie.  “Thank you for everything,”  his dimple winked and Kiersten blushed a little.

“O-of course!”  

She waved them out of the store as Dan clipped Winnies new black leash to her shiny black collar.  

“I’m gonna take such good care of you,” he said as he bent down on the pavement outside.  Her doggy eyes looked at him with complete trust and Dan almost felt like he could cry.  “You’re going to be the happiest dog in the world.”  Winnie licked his face in response and Dan laughed, his nose scrunching up as he pulled away a bit.  “Phil’s gonna love you.”

And he did, though he did put up a half-hearted argument for the name Susan.  

[cosmosogler]

hmm. i didn’t sleep well last night even with the podcast. maybe had the wrong volume. and i woke up for the last time at about 7 with a cramp in my leg and that was pretty bad. then i just laid there on my back for 25 minutes until my alarm went off and then i got up.

i was kinda hoping that biking for an hour would exhaust me. i guess i am an endless well of energy. trickle by trickle i always got what i need for physical stamina. sometimes.

that’s been true for a long time. mom and dad always complained that i had no pain tolerance. and i can’t sprint forever, sure. but this is basically the longest/hardest i’ve ever biked aside from that ride downhill along the glacier in alaska, but that really hurt my wrists for like a week afterward. i always feel tired, the whole time, but i never really... stop. i guess that’s a suitable metaphor for my life.

mom and dad complain about a lot of things about me that probably aren’t true. but... i don’t really have a standard to compare their comments to. i’ve talked about that before... i don’t have a good feel for my personality. i’m unsure of the decisions i might make when under pressure and i don’t like that. it’s not like i feel like i’m nothing. i feel like i’m everything.

and the comments about me, to my face? are also everything. and the comments about me when they think i’m not around. also everything.

but i never feel like i’m acting different than how i normally act!!! what gives? which is it? am i cold or warm? am i deeply intelligent or deeply stupid? i make some pretty stupid decisions. being a physicist doesn’t make me smart automatically.

am i honest or two-faced? am i egotistical and too good to interact with other people or do i have no self esteem? 

in some cases i can be both in different situations, sure, i accept that people act differently sometimes. but i can’t be everything all the time. some of these comments happen on the same day.

sometimes i’ll think i am being perfectly reasonable and people will laugh at me for getting so worked up and i don’t understand because i was using my normal voice. maybe i was annoyed? but not upset by any measure. i’m getting that a lot now... jennica always laughs and says “that sounded REALLY sarcastic” when i say stuff like “i think the fire brigade is cool, my brother wants to be a firefighter and i want to be supportive.” 

i don’t know what her game is there. i don’t know why she keeps saying that. sometimes she puts her hands over her mouth like i said something monstrous when i am having a conversation with another classmate. she doesn’t come across as doing it on purpose. but now she is introducing me to her family members as “this is sammie, i can never tell if she’s being sarcastic or not” and i either have to try to smile through the pain and say “nice to meet you” and hear jennica say “SEE!?” or make an openly sassy comment about the conversation i’m having with my classmates at the bar.

i guess there’s more than two options of course. there are infinite ways to follow up an introduction. 

man i haven’t even described the day i am having today. 

i got up and showered and had a bowl of cereal for breakfast. i waited for suzanne to leave home to get to the book convention, then i waited another ten minutes, then i biked over. it took like six minutes to get there so it wasn’t a big deal even though my butt cried every time i hit a crack in the sidewalk.

no bike lane on main street. that’s why i was on the sidewalk.

i got to the warehouse and asked where everyone was in the group chat. then i went inside and looked at some books. i picked five out fairly quickly- i was only allowing myself to get 4 or 5. i got a mark twain humor theory thing, a biography of mary poppins’ author, a compilation of african mythologies, a big collection of king arthur stories, and a compilation of southwestern native american fairy tales. 

i found jennica by the mythology shelf. i asked her why she didn’t tell me she was here when i asked where everyone was. she shrugged and then tried to convince me that the brothers grimm fairy tales were the originals and also the best thing ever because they were so dark and brutal. 

it occurs to me in retrospect that she probably doesn’t know very much about me or my interests or how many hours i’ve put into studying world mythology. 

(not as many as i’d like, but more than she thinks.)

i paid for my books and then found suzanne’s fiance jake in the parking-lot-turned-courtyard. he’s not in the group chat so i wasn’t mad or anything that time. he let me sit by him and we talked about the book he’d found- “beyond the human eye” i think it was called. it had microscopic and telescopic images and looked like it weighed 20 pounds. i know he’s super antisocial, but he seemed to not be bothered by the one-on-one conversation. maybe that’s mostly a “party with people he doesn’t know” situation. i don’t know him very well yet. we seem to have a lot in common though.

eventually he mentioned that he’d found a pokemon book and thought of me. he asked if i wanted to see it. before i could register the information i’d said “sure” so we were back in the entrance. i made finger guns at the security guard because i’d asked kind of dazed questions the first time i went in and he was reasonably patient with me. we left our backpacks by him at his request.

we didn’t find the book but that was ok. when we went back outside we found suzanne, who had brought rebika, adamya, and her brother alex. then ioannis showed up. jake told suzanne that we’d been looking for the pokemon book and i cut in with “i don’t even play it around you guys that much i don’t know why you associate pokemon with me.”

suzanne looked at me like i was high. she said i play it all the time. i play for 5-10 minutes a day to do the daily stuff, but this week i had been playing it more because i was stressed... i told her it was a good way to feel accomplished because it’s only a matter of “doing the thing a lot” in order to get the thing i want.

in retrospect i think i was resetting for that jolly marshadow for like 25 minutes while hanging out with them last saturday. but i do mostly play at home and not particularly at the office.

anyway i hung out for a while and then we went to get brunch at a cafe across town. i looked at jennica, who was driving me and ioannis, and i said “it’s way easier to appreciate how fast a car is once you’ve had to walk or bike the same distance.” we basically drove the same exact path i’d used to get home last night.

we were at the cafe until like 1:45... mostly talking about etymology. i was a little antsy about the time, just because i had a lot of things to do today (i was right to be worried). we ogled some vultures hanging out by a lake and i took a bunch of pictures because there were like 30 of them sitting around. then half of us went shopping while the other half either got driven home or back to the warehouse to grab our bikes. i was already exhausted.

i got back to the apartment just in time to grab my box from amazon before the office closed. snoopy’s cat walk-through brush was in there! i set it up and sprinkled some catnip on it like i was feeding some fish. within two minutes snoopy was rolling around under it so i watched her do that for a while. she really loves it. i can never quite get her chin the right way when i brush her so now she can do it however she wants.

instead of cleaning the apartment i watched youtube videos for a while. eventually i took a deep breath and called the crisis center. they can’t make recommendations and told me to ask my insurance, which is the opposite of what i wanted to do. i scrolled through google instead. there’s no one near me except one solitary therapist with no reviews or information. i did eventually find that she doesn’t take my insurance so i called a different one who is kind of nearby but also didn’t have any reviews or information except for a phone number. i left a message. if she’s not open on saturdays i might be in trouble though.

also the crisis center doesn’t do appointments on saturdays so that was out too.

i might have to just use my 12-ish allotted appointments with the on-campus counseling center... i didn’t really want to do that because it takes like 3 appointments to get established and then i’d just have to do this search all over again after the 12 meetings were up.

then i made myself some dinner. it wasn’t that great. it needed another dish to complement it but i really didn’t have the energy to make rice or anything.

after that i biked out to the grocery store... at like 6:30. i got everything i needed and i think i stayed within my budget? i got some halloween decorations for my window. and now it’s finally the time of year when it looks like i am being festive instead of having a random wooden skeleton hanging on my wall over the keyboard piano.

he keeps an eye on snoopy while i’m out.

biking home was a nightmare with the cat litter in the front basket throwing off the center of gravity. i had to carry TWO heavy bags on my shoulders instead of one and it was cutting off the blood supply to my arms. still kind of sore where the handle straps were digging into my skin.

after i got home i put everything away and STILL didn’t feel like cleaning the apartment so i...? not sure what i did. a bunch of different little insignificant things. looking through tumblr i guess.

i realized that none of my classmates know that i draw or write. it feels like it should be such a big part of me and yet... i just don’t talk about it. i don’t have much time to draw. i make time sometimes but i dunno. i don’t show them anything. i don’t think anyone even saw the “sunset” representation i drew during our lab introduction when the lecturer was describing how we use symbols and stuff. i talked about that several weeks ago. how she remembered mine and said it was unique i guess.

i started a short story that i was gonna write about someone else’s character, and i still have the general outline in my head, but... i guess the idea feels stupid. it’s really hard to write my characters these days. i don’t know how much emphasis to put on them when other people’s characters are also in the story. i always feel like they are stealing the spotlight. in stories that are written about them. yeah.

i wish... i had a better way to tell what people knew about me. like the pokemon thing genuinely surprised me. this has happened a lot. people say i talk about it constantly, all the time, but like... i dunno. i only remember bringing it up once a week at most in undergrad, just in little references. like “oh there’s an event this week.” 

i guess it might be because i’m not very self aware? am i? i sure feel self conscious. is that different from self aware? 

i make everything about myself. i have to remind myself that i write these for me first and that’s why they are long all-consuming black holes of talking about myself. because otherwise it feels like i’m the only thing i ever talk about. i can’t... share... most of the things i like or am interested in. it feels like. i know i talk about the things i like all the time. is that still talking about myself? i’m so confused.

i’m really struggling to figure out how to not talk about myself all the time. being stuck in a house with mom and dad for eight and a half months was probably not very good for my conversational ability. i don’t know how to talk about anything other than myself because i spent eight months doing nothing but living inside my own head and sometimes walking my dogs. i don’t have anything to talk about! i was my whole life for so long that i forget how to... not. i feel like i don’t focus on other people enough.

ha. that’s another thing. my old friends used to say that they thought their friendships with me were real one-sided because i would share my problems overwhelmingly and not listen to them. then i go to therapy and the therapist is like “people aren’t your friends because you don’t share anything about yourself and expect them to share everything.” 

WHICH IS IT??? WHICH??????? NOT BOTH!!!!!!!!

GOD! I REALLY STRUGGLE WITH MY RELIGION, OK? I FEEL LIKE I SHOULD COMMIT MORE TO A BUDDHIST LIFESTYLE BUT I CAN’T SEEM TO FORCE MYSELF TO AND I WORRY THAT THAT MAKES IT CULTURAL APPROPRIATION OR SOMETHING BECAUSE OH I’M FAKE BUDDHIST, I JUST WEAR IT AS A FASHION STATEMENT, I DON’T ACTUALLY PRACTICE BUT BELIEVE ME I REALLY AM PART OF THAT RELIGION. BELIEVING IN GOD WAS SO HARD EVEN UP UNTIL HIGH SCHOOL. I FELT LIKE GOD HATED ME AND HAD TO TELL MYSELF EVERY DAY THAT HE WOULD UNDERSTAND EVERYONE HE MADE BECAUSE HE KNEW EVERYTHING. AND YET CONTINUOUSLY HORRIBLE THINGS WOULD HAPPEN TO ME AND PEOPLE I CARED ABOUT.

MY POLITICAL VIEWS ARE HARD TO DEFINE. I FEEL LIKE I DON’T HAVE A WORD FOR MY COLLECTION OF BELIEFS. I DON’T HAVE A GOOD IDEA OF WHAT FINANCIAL SYSTEM WOULD WORK BEST. ALL OF THEM SUCK!!!!!!!! AND I CAN’T FIX THAT PROBLEM!!!!!!!!! SO I DON’T THINK ABOUT IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BECAUSE OTHERWISE IT STRESSES ME OUT AND MAKES ME MISERABLE LITERALLY ALL DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I WORRY THAT ALL THIS “NICENESS” AND “KINDNESS” AND “SWEETNESS” THAT OTHER PEOPLE DESCRIBE ME AS HAVING IS FAKE. I’M NOT ACTUALLY KIND. ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT IS MYSELF AND HOW I WOULD FEEL IF I WAS IN THEIR SITUATION. WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO THINK ABOUT??? I’M NOT ACTUALLY KIND BECAUSE I’M NOT BRAVE. I CAN’T STAND UP FOR OTHER PEOPLE WHEN THERE’S TOO MUCH RISK I WILL GET HURT. I CAN’T STAND UP FOR MYSELF WHEN THERE’S TOO MUCH RISK I’LL GET HURT!!!!!!! IS THAT VIRTUE SIGNALLING? DO I JUST WANT THE ATTENTION WITHOUT ACTUALLY MAKING A COMMITMENT? I DON’T KNOW!

AM I EVEN CAPABLE OF MAKING A COMMITMENT? I DON’T EVEN PRACTICE POKEMON BATTLES BEFORE I ENTER COMPETITIONS AND THEN I GET BUMMED WHEN I DON’T WIN HALF THE TIME! WHAT DID I EXPECT?????? YOU HAVE TO PRACTICE TO BE ANY GOOD AT ANYTHING AND I DON’T PRACTICE ANYTHING BECAUSE I SPEND ALL MY TIME DOING NOTHING BECAUSE I’M AFRAID IF I MOVE I WON’T BE ABLE TO STOP MYSELF FROM HURTING MYSELF. BECAUSE I HATE MYSELF!

AND I THINK VIDEO GAMES AND CARTOONS ARE REALLY COOL AND I LIKE TONS OF CHARACTERS AND THEY SHOW UP IN MY DREAMS BUT IT’S WEIRD BECAUSE MY BRAIN JUST KIND OF PICKS OUT RANDOM FACES FOR ROLES AND PERSONALITIES IT MAKES UP FOR THE PURPOSE OF THE DREAM SO IT’S NOT REALLY THAT CHARACTER IT’S JUST GOT THEIR MASK ON.

I STILL THINK YOSHI IS REALLY CUTE AND I LIKE USING HIM IN SMASH BROS BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN PLAYING AS HIM FOR 20 YEARS AND IT’S WHAT I’M GOOD AT. BUT I’M ALSO REALLY GOOD AT BOWSER SO IT’S OK RIGHT??? IT’S NOT NERDY RIGHT???????????

LOOK AT HOW MUCH I DON’T KNOW ABOUT ANIME, WHICH I ACTUALLY DO KNOW ABOUT, I’M NOT A NERD RIGHT??????????????? YOU CAN’T TELL THAT I’M FAKING IGNORANCE RIGHT??????????????????

I REALLY LIKE UNDERTALE AND I WILL LISTEN TO THE SOUNDTRACK AS MANY TIMES AS I WANT AND YOU CAN’T MAKE ME STOP BUT I STILL DIE INSIDE IF SOMEONE SEES MY YOUTUBE RECOMMENDATIONS AND SEES “RUINS EXTENDED.”

DO YOU KNOW HOW FASCINATING FILM THEORY IS? I DO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THAT’S WHAT I THINK ABOUT! THERE! IT’S WRITTEN DOWN SOMEWHERE! BUT MAYBE YOU ALREADY KNEW ALL THIS BECAUSE I AM SUBCONSCIOUSLY TALKING ABOUT ALL OF THIS ALL THE TIME AND I DON’T ACTUALLY HAVE ANY SECRETS OR ANY CONTROL OVER WHAT I SAY OR DO OR WHAT PEOPLE THINK OR KNOW ABOUT ME! I DON’T HAVE ANY CONTROL OVER ANYTHING THAT HAPPENS AROUND ME OR TO ME! I’M JUST A REALLY NERDY LUMP WHO HAS NO SKILLS AND NO ACTUALLY GOOD QUALITIES! ONLY FAKE GOOD QUALITIES! I DON’T REMEMBER HOW TO CARE ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE AFTER I SPEND TIME AT HOME AND I HAVE TO AWKWARDLY RE-LEARN HOW TO BE CONCERNED IN FITS AND SURPRISED STARTS- OH! TAYLOR SEEMS TO ACTUALLY BE UPSET! MAYBE I SHOULD ASK IF HE’S OK??? IS THAT HOW YOU CARE ABOUT PEOPLE AGAIN??????????

I THINK I HAVE ALL THESE SECRETS BUT I DON’T! I DON’T HAVE ANYTHING! I CAN’T EVEN LIE RIGHT BECAUSE I CAN’T TELL IF I AM OR NOT ANY MORE!

[fanficcollection]

Tumblr-Girl (Part 2)

Tumblr – Girl (Series)

Part 1 Part 3 Masterlist 

Pairing: Misha Collins x reader Summary: the day after the first conversation Word Count: 1.913 Warnings: panic attack, angst, depression, mental illness, self doubt

Notes: it is my first ever fanfic and I am not a English native speaker so please don’t hate me, I hope you like the idea, there at least some more parts to come. :)  IMPORTANT: I’m looking for someone like a beta-reader (since I’m not an English-native-speaker there are (probably) loads of mistakes in my texts as well as some ideas seem better in my mind than in the text, so you know what a beta-reader does, don’t you? Just shoot me a message if you want to help me with my texts 

Now enjoy the second chapter ;)

Your POV

The next day you woke up, your body in pain and extremely tired, you swore you would never again trust a single human being who wants to help and certainly not some guy on tumblr. Yesterday you thought this guy really cared, that you have finally found someone to get this weight from your shoulders, but as everyone else he just let you down. Just wanted to play a knight until he read this few lines and recognized your unappealing character, until the game got boring, as it always does when you were involved. 

You decided to get a long, hot shower to please your body and after that you checked the cuts on your wrist, they weren’t very deep, it would just take a few days for them to heal, they probably wouldn’t even leave scars. Good. You hated the scars on your wrist, where too many people could see them, there were a lot more scars above your elbow and on your tights because hiding them there was a lot easier. You just cut on your wrist when you didn’t really think about what you did. When you just urged to feel your body, when your mind completely shuts down.

You put on your favourite hoodie and some jogging pants and thought about checking your tumblr inbox. No. You just promised yourself not to do this again, maybe you should just delete that app from your mobile phone. But you couldn’t get yourself to do it, not yet, so you just went to your phone settings and switched off the tumblr-notifications. You don’t want to hear anything of that guy anymore, you thought.

Mishas POV

As I woke up in the morning I wasn’t as tired as I thought I would be, I looked at the time and jumped out of my bed shocked. Shit. It was nearly 10, filming started at quarter to 10. I put on a pair of comfortable jeans and a simple T-shirt, then I rushed to the bathroom, brushed my teeth while fixing my messy hair. Why wasn’t there any alarm? Oh, my mobile was still off because of the lack of battery. Shit. In my car I plugged in the portable charger and instantly messages came in. I quickly looked at it and hoped for a message of the tumblr-girl from the night before but as I unlocked the screen there were just seven texts and two missed calls from Jensen.

Morning, I’m going a bit earlier today, want me to pick you up? -Jensen

I’m leaving in 10, if you want me to pick you up, tell me. –Jensen

Okay, I’m leaving now. I guess I’ll see you on set in 30 minutes. – J

Where are you, buddy? Late night yesterday? ;)

Hey Misha, where are you? They are looking for you, shooting starts in 20

Mish, where are you? Forgot your job, huh?

Misha?

I shook my head. Shit. They are gonna hate me. I quickly wrote a text to Jensen

Hey buddy, I overslept, I’m sorry will be there asap – Misha

I got on set just 20 minutes later, although everyone was ready and waiting for me, I was a bit embarrassed and tried to get ready very quickly so we could start filming. When I sat down at the make-up table, Sarah, the make-up artist looked at me shocked. “Is something wrong?” I asked her confused. She stared at me and pointed at my eyes “Did you stayed up the whole night?” she asked blankly. I looked at me in the mirror and recognized the dark shadows below my eyes. “I’m sorry.” I said “but you can fix this, can’t you?” I replied with a little smile. She sighed “It will be a lot of work, but I think I can.” I nodded and let her start applying loads of make-up to my face.

I was tired the whole day, every now and then my mind went off to the tumblr-girl which hasn’t responded since last night. I was messing up constantly and at some point Jensen talked to the director to get some time for a break. Then he came back and looked at me “Everything okay, buddy?” he asked and I nodded instantly “It’s just because you are absent the whole time, what’s going on?” he kept going. I sighed quietly, not sure if I should tell him about the situation going on but then you nodded “See, I was on tumblr yesterday-“ – “What?” he stared at my perplexed “You were on tumblr? What did you do, read fanfictions about us?” he laughed, but as he saw my concerned face he got serious again and just said “go on.”

“Yeah, I just like to see what people are doing to each other, there are incredible supporting and helpful people out there. I really love to see how they are a family just as we are.” I smiled but then I got back to the subject “but yesterday I met this girl on tumblr, she sounded really desperate and more or less asked the community for support.” I looked at him and he nodded slowly and I kept going. “I- I don’t know, there was nobody responding so I just shot her a message with some nice lines, you know. I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing.” I looked at my feet “She responded somewhere in the middle of the night, I was still awake, maybe because I was a bit worried about her, she sounded desperate, like she had nobody to talk, we wrote a short time, maybe two or three messages and then my phone battery went out, I had to look for my charger but didn’t find it so some minutes passed and when I finally sent her a message from my laptop she didn’t respond. I heard nothing from her since then. I- I’m just worried, Jensen.” I finished.

Jensen nodded again and gave me a gentle hug. “I understand.” He smiled “You are simply too precious for this world, buddy, but I understand. I hope she is responding soon, maybe she is just as tired as you are and overslept as well, or she needs just a little time, I’m sure she is okay.” He patted my shoulder and I gave him a weak smile. “I hope so.” I said “Okay, let’s get back to work and wrap the thing for today.”

Your POV

Since you had your day off every Friday you had no duties to do today, you just stayed at home and listened to some music, did your laundry, tried to keep yourself busy. But you couldn’t forget about this guy. Every now and then you started crying, your head felt like it would burst any second and you just couldn’t anymore. You thought a long time about killing yourself, you wouldn’t be a burden for anybody anymore, but you couldn’t get yourself to do it. Instead you took a pill against your headache and grabbed the bottle of white wine from the fridge. Of course you knew that medication and alcohol weren’t a good combination, but who cares, if you die you die. At least it would be over then. So you sipped at the bottle turned on the TV and started watching Supernatural, again.

Short time later the warm feeling of the alcohol in your blood helped you to relax a bit, you got more emotional and you started crying at some points of the TV-show. You really loved the characters, you loved the connection between the brothers and between Dean and Cass, how they did everything for another and you were sad that you had no friend, no family, to rely on just as they do.

When your thoughts beat you up again and you forced yourself to breathe slowly, when you tried to calm yourself down you took your mobile and opened the tumblr app without thinking. Your eyes focussed immediately on the little symbol above the inbox-sign. Two new messages. You were shivering as you opened your inbox and the chat with oldbonesgoingdown, you read the message, which arrived maybe half an hour after your message yesterday, when you were too freaked out to watch your phone.

“Don’t think like that, Y/N. I don’t know you that well (now), but I think you are an interesting person, you seem like there are a lot of interesting things to know about you and I would like to get to know them all. 

Oh my dear, I hope you are better now, I feel with you, I know this feeling when your head puts up some cruel ideas and you can’t do anything but believing it, I really know it, but it will pass, at least for a while. And remember, I am here, girl, I am.

Love, oldbonesgoingdown

PS.: And I don’t think Y/N is an normal, boring name, like you said, I think it sounds very light, adorable and lovely, I don’t know anybody who is called Y/N. I really like the sound of it. 

You had to read the message multiple times, tears rushing down your face, struggling for air, but then a soft smile reached your face. When you scrolled down to the second message, also from oldbonesgoingdown the smile vanished as fast as it appeared.

Hey Y/N,

I haven’t heard from you all day, so I decided to ask once again if you are okay. I hope I said nothing that could have intimidated you, if I did, I’m so sorry. I just need to know how you are doing.

Please, just shoot me a short message.

Love, oldbonesgoingdown

Ps. If I said something that annoyed you, or if you just want me to stop messaging, just say it, I don’t want to force you to anything, I just care about you.

There once was a person who cared and you managed to disappoint him in under a day, you aren’t worth getting the care of a person as nice as this guy seemed. In spite of you knowing you weren’t worth his attention you wrote a short message, to tell him you were still alive, because you couldn’t do the favour to the world and kill yourself.

Hey stranger – I still just know your tumblr-id?

I’m alive is maybe the best I can say after today. I’m far from alright although I’m drunk and crying while watching the boys kill monsters, but your message gave me a smile. I didn’t want to make you wait for my complaints and for sure I didn’t want to make you worry.

I know (no, I don’t understand it, but you told me) you care about me and you want to hear things about me and for the moment you know some things about me (My name is Y/N, I’m good at disappointing people, getting myself into trouble and being a burden for others and I’m a huge SPN fan as I’m in the family) but I just want to know some things about you, at least I name, please.

And of course I don’t want you to stop writing, but I know who I am, so if you want me to stop, yeah, just tell me, I guess.

Greetings, Y/N

The fact that you were drunk made you write things you hadn’t told anybody if you were sober, anybody. You wrote as you thought, don’t beat around the bush.

Part 3