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Roses (Full)

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Roses

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Happy Pride Month!! ♥♥♥♥

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Avengers: Infinity War aka The Bachelor: Tony Stark Edition

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Fun Vampire Fact; the reason that Vampires traditionally cannot see their reflections in a mirror is because mirrors used to be backed with a reflective layer of silver — which, as the metal of purity, would not ‘interact’ with Vampires, who are the Devil’s work.

However, modern mirrors have used aluminum as their reflective backing for many years now — and aluminum is not a ‘picky’ metal at all. So Vampires are able to see their reflections in modern mirrors.

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Hannibal Halloween - 6 Weeks of Creation

So halloween is SUPER DUPER CLOSE LIKE TOMORROW, so after a conversation with @hanni-bunny-lecter we decided prompts must happen. Halloween after all is basically Fannibal christmas.

However, we decided to do something different as we both struggle with prompt-a-day calenders, so you have two options…

Weekly Prompts- Each of the 6 weeks listed here has it’s own prompt, Fairytales, Costumes and Parties, Sci Fi and Fantasy, The Undead, Classic Horror and Autumn Dreams, you can use this whole week to create one thing based on that. You could do one big multichaptered fic over the 7 days, take 7 days to create an art piece, whatever you’d like. Also, feel free to do crafts, or whatever do fulfil them!

Daily Prompts - Each day of these 6 weeks also has an individual prompt, which you’re more than welcome to do as usual if you have little daily ideas.

This makes the event slightly more flexible, feel free to participate in any way you’d like! 

Furthermore, if you want to use these as prompts to recommend your favourite pieces, feel free to do that! Recs are invaluable!

Please TAG YOUR WONDERFUL WORK with #HANNIBALHALLOW on Tumblr/Twitter/AO3

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30 day AU challenge: 7. Steampunk Whalepunk

“ Hello, Eggsy. Your life has taken a turn, has it not?”

It’s cheating I know, but I love Dishonored and whalepunk is awesome :D It’s such a great game A+

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thoughts on the friendzone

when i was 5 years old my best friend was a boy named kyle who didn’t know how to knock on doors so he made dinosaur noises outside my window to wake me up in the summer until i demonstrated how to ball his fists and slam them against my doors.  we collected caterpillars in my trailer park and built them houses while we traded pokemon cards.  he wasn’t the only one.  there was ben, and mitch, and noah—but kyle’s the only one who hurt me, because when he tried to kiss me and i asked him why, he told me “because you’re a girl and i’m a boy, shouldn’t we like each other?”

i missed him so much and i wondered why he couldn’t just be my friend like he always was

in the first grade there was rich and joseph and i got sent to detention with them almost every day with a smile on my face.  we built block towers and sang to my teacher’s lion king soundtracks when she’d turn the lights off during lunch time.  one day they got in a fist fight over me at recess, and i wondered why they felt they needed to share my friendship, like it was something they owned.

in the second grade zach and i played yu gi oh under our desks during free time and i got moved for talking to him constantly.  everyone in the class would tease him and i for talking, asking when we were going to date already, asking him if he’d kissed me, and he stopped being my friend.

when i was 11 i met a chubby boy with the name of a colour who wore puffy vests and unwashed t-shirts, with greasy hair and bright blue eyes and a smile that hid hurt behind it.  people didn’t like him because he was silly, but i liked him, because i was also silly.  he became my friend the day he bought me 5 giant roses and asked me to be his girlfriend, and i politely declined but promised him i’d be his best friend because i’d always wanted a best guy friend that stuck around. we burnt our feet on the concrete during the summer and walked home with the sunset silhouetting us.  he talked often about how he loved me, but never blamed me for being me, even though he refused to move on. that boy dyed his hair jet black and sat on the end of my bed playing songs to me on guitar, and all that pent up rage from before didn’t show until the first time he slapped me across the face and called me a dumb cunt.

in the 7th grade there was a boy named ryan who sat next to me on the bus and talked to me about manga.  he’d ask me personal invasive questions but i didn’t mind because it was attention and i liked attention.  i was dating another guitarist with curly brown hair, one who was much more kind-tempered than the other, and ryan mentioned how much of an asshole he was every day.  i wondered, why, why does he think the love of my life is an asshole?  but whenever i asked him, he just told me, “girls only date assholes.  there’s no room for nice guys like me.”

i wondered, if he was so nice, why did he say such mean things?

he never stopped with me, taking me to movies, hanging out with me, you know.  being friendly.  i thought we were friends.  but then, how many times had i thought that before?

how many times had i bonded with a boy, thought they got me, only for them to ask me if i wanted to make out?

how come when i told ryan i was coming out as a lesbian, he stopped being my friend, and said “damnit, the one girl i really want to pound into a mattress, and she’s only interested in chicks!”

there was a boy my junior year who stayed up all night with me until the sun rose, talking about life, past loves, hopes, dreams.  beneath a million twinkling stars spanning forever, he brushed long brown hair out of his eyes and listened to me talk about the history that made me. then he asked me if i’d ever consider dating a guy, and complained about how he’d never get laid.

when i told him no a couple hundred times, he found new girls to listen to.

i would sit on the couch and play zelda with dakota, and he’d talk about all my favourite games with me.  he was the closest thing to support i had, and the letters and poems he wrote me were always so kind and friendly.  but he’d put his arms around me on the couch, and no matter how many times i told him i was uncomfortable, he’d still come over every day and do it.

“don’t you know how it feels to love someone and not have them love you back?  don’t you know what it feels like to be friendzoned?”

when i meet guys who talk about the friendzone, who talk about the girls who don’t give “nice guys” like them i chance, i always want to just say

when i was 10 years old i met a girl whose brown hair fell across her shoulders and whos eyes sparkled when the sunlight hit them, whose voice was like velvet and whose scent was like mountain smoke, who made me dizzier than a fly climbing a sugar hill.  and i’m 18 years old, and i still love her, and she knows, and she doesn’t love me.

but my first thoughts upon hearing her rejection were not “what a bitch,” were not “she just wants a douchebag and not a nice girl like me!” were not “im going to keep pushing her until she dates me,”

they were

“she is the best friend i have ever had, and i am the best she’s ever had, and i would hate to take that away from her.”

so before you play the victim, mr. Nice Guy, before you angrily throw your fedora on the ground and blame the girl you claim to adore so much:

put yourself in the shoes of a girl who thought she made a wonderful friend, only to find out that he just wanted her for sex.  that he just wanted her for a relationship.  a girl who was just an object to win, a prize.  a girl who’s trust you’ve just shattered.

maybe she friendzoned you.  but you girlfriendzoned her, first.

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Awwwww This fic is my coffee for this morning! It made my day

Hot for Teacher

Eggsy would really like to leave his office right now.

There are three sniffling university students outside his door waiting to talk to him though, which is his primary dilemma.

The secondary dilemma is that they’re all here to talk about the same issue.

“He’s as old as my dad,” Amelia sobs, using her skirt to dab at her tears, “that can’t be normal to be attracted to him. But Professor Hart just looks so good in those suits he wears to class, and I can’t focus and my grade is falling but he’s so nice and offers extra credit if you’re trying.”

“It’s plenty normal,” Eggsy says gently, offering Amelia another cup of tea. “Many people are attracted to Robert Downey Jr., and he’s in his fifties.”

“But he’s a celebrity,” Amelia moans, “he’s a pipe dream. I see Professor Hart every day!”

“Amelia, I wouldn’t worry about your attraction to Professor Hart as long as you don’t act on it. I would, however, worry about how you’re letting it distract you from your work. If you can’t take notes and listen during class due to visual disruptions-“

“Visual disruptions?”

“The suit.”

“Oh.”

“I suggest you bring in an audio recorder, so that after class you can take notes from the recorded lecture. Does he use PowerPoints?”

“Yeah, he uploads them after class.”

“Download those in addition to the recordings, and hopefully you can get your grade back up.”

Amelia finishes her tea, smiling softly as she places the porcelain cup back on Eggsy’s desk.

“I think I can do that,” she agrees. “Thank you so much Mr. Unwin, for being so patient with me again.”

“I wouldn’t have this job if I didn’t want to help.” Eggsy gets up to walk Amelia out of his office, making sure she gets her class excuse note from his secretary before he turns to the next student waiting by his door. Digby follows him into his office morosely, slumping into the seat opposite Eggsy and sighing.

“How are you doing today Digby?”

“I’m having a sexual identity crisis,” Digby mutters, clenching the fabric of his trousers as Eggsy nods, shifting through his past sessions with Digby to figure out where this is going. “Professor Hart bent over today to pick up a book.”

Oh for fucks sake.

Keep reading

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Merwin....sweet

“Come on, where are we going?” Eggsy asked for the twentieth time.

“I’ll nae say - it’s a surprise.” Merlin said. He kept driving and ignored Eggsy’s pestering. Eventually they arrived to the coast to Ramsgate.

“Why are we here then?” Eggsy looked around a bit and smiled at the sight of the sea, he always did enjoy water.

“Do ye know the history of this location in World War II?” Merlin asked.

“Sure, little ships of Dunkirk. People were mental, fucking heroes.” Eggsy said. 

Merlin walked them down a narrow path. “There was a brother and sister, the Davis twins, who piloted one of those boats. They rescued 60 men and her brother went back out and she tended to them at the family cottage as well as she could. And life being what it is a soldier swore he fell in love instantly. She punched him for being cheeky.” Eggsy laughed out loud at that. “And of course she married him two years later and her last name became Unwin.” Eggsy stumbled over a phantom rock.

“She gave birth to twins, one of whom was your grandfather. He as you know passed a long time ago, but your great aunt, still lives in that cottage.” Merlin paused in front of a tiny building. “This cottage.” Merlin pulled Eggsy close and kissed him. “When we wed, ye said you had barely any family to give me, so I thought giving you a little more family would be a good anniversary gift.”

Eggsy was too choked up to do anything but nod.

Merlin nudged Eggsy and Eggsy opened the gate and walked towards the old woman waiting at the door.

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//Criesssssssss ~ It's so beautifully written!

Merwin, trust. :)

Every time Eggsy left on a mission he would go and kiss the top of Merlin’s head. He would then whisper in Merlin’s ear, “Trust me my love, I’ll come home to you.”

And one time Merlin was the one to go out on a mission while Eggsy stayed home and he kissed Eggsy’s head and whispered, “Trust me my love, I’ll come home to you.”

Eggsy stood over Merlin’s grave, all the other mourners gone, night falling in the sky. “Not what it is supposed to mean.” He began to cry.

He felt warmth envelope him and the rain that began to fall didn’t touch his head. “Trust me my love, I’ve come home to you,” was whispered in his ear. Eggsy swayed a little at the scent of Merlin behind him, though he knew no one was there.

And every mission where he was sure he was going to die, where he thought the end was there, he would hear, “Trust me,” whispered in his ear and something always gave him an advantage, gave him a way out.

When he was on his death bed he opened his eyes and there was Merlin who said, “Trust me.”

Eggsy smiled, “Been waiting 38 fucking years to tell you to piss off for stealing my line.” He closed his eyes. “Coming home to you babe.” 

Daisy buried Eggsy next to Merlin, his grave saying only his name and the word trust.

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Merlin appreciation post. I’m in love with this gorgeous man, and so are Eggsy and Harry.

This man looked like Merlin, but Eggsy was sure as hell that he had never seen this person before. 

No clipboard. Cunning smile with a tricky glance. A casual black suit. A black polo with few undone buttons. A polo, which fabric stretched across his chest each time he moved, widening the edges of its collar and showing even more of an outlined collarbone with each move. And, of course, the jawline of a hunting dog. 

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Too much love will kill you It’ll make your life a lie Yes, too much love will kill you And you won’t understand why

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but i stayed quiet instead.