after all the trouble i went through to get the first one

If you have a lucid dream, do not commit any acts of violence against the things you meet

by reddit user professionalsuccubus

I had my first lucid dream at age nine.

I was in a decrepit neighborhood – rotting porches, peeling paint, Spanish moss hanging off dormers, the works. Mist swirled around my ankles as I walked slowly through the streets. Like an old video game, the horizon was both unchanging and unreachable.

I wandered around, in and out of the cobwebby houses. Although the streets were empty, the houses usually had a few ghosts floating around. There were a few children, but they were mostly old people, in various stages of decay. They never hurt me, nor did they speak. They just floated. Sometimes they’d follow me, but I never felt threatened.

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anonymous asked:

I need the story of the Underground Shakespearian Ring

Okay, so the school I went to for 9th grade had this really bizarre grading setup that I still don’t understand- for some reason, instead of the teachers writing up and grading tests and exams and the like, all the work was sent to an unknown third party for them to grade??? It made no sense.

Now, for the most part, the school had decent teachers, and they would just teach the curriculum correctly and then you wouldn’t run into problems with the grading. My English teacher was not one of those teachers.

So like, she hated me pretty early on- she was my homeroom teacher and thought it was disrespectful that I slept in homeroom in the mornings (I was on sleeping pills and they never wore off completely until around 10am), I never had the vocab homework in on time (someone kept breaking into my locker and stealing my vocab books I had to buy a new one like five times), she thought it was “inherently pessimistic and stuck up” when she caught me reading a book called ‘Ninth Grade Slays’ (it was about vampires, not her?), and during our Greek Mythology unit I kept correcting her about the name pronunciations of the gods (she pronounced Hephaestus as Hepatitis one time holy shit). 

Anyway, her feelings on me aside, her teaching skills were shoddy at best. But I had had way worse teachers, so had the rest of the class, and Greek myths are pretty straight-up in what’s going on, so no one really had trouble with the third-party tests.

Then we get to the Romeo and Juliet unit.

Now, fun fact: Shakespeare has always come pretty easily to me. Like, to the point where I sometimes forget/fail to understand that other people have an incredibly hard time translating his works. (I told this whole story to my friends in the school I went to for 10th/11th/12th grade and when the drama department put on ‘Midsummers Night Dream’ one year, more than half the cast tried to get me to translate their scripts and monologues for them lmao).

So, anyway, I’m just a girl, reading Romeo and Juliet and digging how it’s going…and then the teacher starts ‘translating’ it.

Um.

I cannot sift through all the bullshit this woman was spewing, but let’s just say that my favorite part is during Romeo’s spew about Rosaline, there’s one part where he says something like ‘with cupid’s arrow/she hath diane’s will’, and the teacher was taking this to mean Rosaline was a Super Lesbian who was breaking the law or something and running away with her lover Diane, which would be a rad storyline, sure, but like…I’m just raising my hand like “Um Ma’am, Diana is the Roman goddess of chastity. What Romeo meant is that she told him she’s sworn off love and is probably becoming a nun?” and this woman just got. So angry. Like, excuse me, you are a student, you’re here to learn, so you clearly don’t know anything about this (I read Romeo and Juliet for the first time in like preschool whoops). Anyway, she continues on making up her own plot to the play, and I…well I was basically Hermione Fucking Granger at this point I couldn’t just sit there and listen to someone be this wrong about something omfg??? She just got angrier and angrier and stopped calling on me after a while.

So for a couple lessons I’m just left to seethe quietly, but one day after class this girl I knew since grade school came up to me and was like “Could you…? Tell me what the hell we’re supposed to be learning?” and I didn’t even like her but I liked the validation of being someone’s Chosen Teacher so I wrote out a summary for her of everything we had covered so far so she could actually write a comprehendible essay for our homework that night.

But THEN the during the class when we got our essays back, she made a HUGE DEAL, like ‘oh Molly, it wasn’t bad enough that you’ve been failing this course material, now you have to drag your friends into it by trying to re-write the play?’ (l m a o). Like this bitch had literally tried to fight me on ‘Paris is the guy Juliet’s father wants her to marry’ and she didn’t even put a grade on my essay where I said the play only ended in tragedy because of how young and naïve the kids were, that if they had taken a breather and thought things through it probably would’ve been fine (it was a damn good essay and I stand by it). But anyway, she’s trying to make me out to my classmate’s as someone who’s trying to sabotage their education for laughs.

This backfired on her.

See, it dawned on people one by one, that she was only teaching the wrong material -> so they wouldn’t know the right material -> so when they eventually would take the exams they would only have her crazy answers -> which the third party graders wouldn’t know about -> everyone fails this course that’s like half the overall grade of the year.

Most students consider that a problem.

So suddenly the class has decided I’m the fucking Shakespeare Whisperer or something, and one by one start begging me for help. At first I was confused, because as I said, it’s so easy for me that I didn’t realize literally the entire class was lost out of their asses here. omfg. So I was really getting hassled here but I didn’t want my entire class to fail you know???? So I started meeting with people during study halls or texting them after school so they knew what was going on. And then they started telling people in this teacher’s other classes, including upperclassmen who were lost as fuck, so this was quickly spiraling out of control on my end, but overall people were really starting to understand the plays better!! So I was feeling really great.

But then, the teacher noticed that none of the homework getting handed in to her matched up with her crazy translations, and knew I was the sole person to blame (naturally). She literally tried to get me suspended over this, she went to the school’s disciplinarian!

Note: This guy, Mr. C, knew I was a God damn angel- my science class was off the charts, inappropriately awful, so every time one of our science teacher’s wanted to give the entire class detention, instead of calling Mr. C up to the class room as was the rule, they’d send me down to get him so he’d know to write up every student except for me. So when my English teacher dragged me in there he was looking her like “What on Earth could this girl have possibly done to piss you off?” 😂😂

And when she explained he looked at her for a very long moment, glanced at me with a signature ‘Office’ Reaction Face™ , turned back to her and was like “You want her suspended…for starting a study group?” and I was CHOKING.

So that really pissed her off and they started fighting and this was a very overworked and Done man so at some point he gave up and was like “I’m not suspending her but fine we can put a ban on the study group if you leave my office” omfg. So all the other students get notified and now they’re back to freaking out about the upcoming exams.

So like two days later, I’m at lunch, complaining about this to one of my friends who had a different English teacher and thus no problem, and I’m on this whole angry rant (Because I’m pissed, a bunch of kid’s grades are gonna get fucked up because of this! They just wanted to do well! I just wanted to help them!) and my friends staring at me quietly the whole time and when I finish I’m like “What?” and she’s just like “…Molly did you literally start up Dumbledore’s Army in our fucking school?” and I died on scene.

But then I started thinking about the comparison and I was like? You know fucking what? If Harry Potter can get those kids to pass their fucking DADA test I can help kids pass their fucking English Exam. Bring it the fuck on, Umbridge.

So I started Spreading The Word that anyone who needs help with their Shakespeare course can still get help, we just all need to meet up once to hash out the details. After some back and forth notes and deliberations, we ended up meeting in the school library, which was hilarious for a few reasons:

1) It was directly across the hall from this teacher’s classroom.

2) It was actually a converted janitors closet, way smaller than all the other classrooms, and there were like 50 people shoved in there; Not exactly an ideal Room of Requirement

3) The library carried no Shakespeare texts, but had the entire Harry Potter series on display to see when you first walked in

But anyway, despite the fact that we were literally three feet away from her door while we were doing this, our teacher was none the wiser of the meeting. We worked out a game plan- everyone writes out bullshit essays that align with what the teacher’s expecting. After she grades those and gives them back, they get them to me- slipping them in my locker, handing it to me discreetly in the halls or in another class, what have you. I then try to power through the dizzying amount of confusion radiating out of the teacher’s mouth and onto these papers, and more or less write out better translation of what was going on in whatever scene they covered, what the highlights they needed to know were, stuff like that, and then slip it back to them in similar discreet fashion (so the teacher/disciplinarian wouldn’t see me and get suspicious ; also because I was like 15 and wanted to feel like a super cool secret agent). They would then keep my copies and use them as study guides for the upcoming exams, where they would then answer all the questions correctly, the way the third party graders would mark correctly, and pass the exams + the bullshit essays would get them high marks in the teacher’s homework grades. The teacher never caught on to what was happening, just thought her students finally started paying attention to her.

All in all, it was a complicated mess, but it fucking worked. I don’t think anyone failed their exams that year. Will I ever be cooler? No. I think I fucking peaked when I was 15.

anonymous asked:

i have a prompt for you: what if snape hadn't called lily 'mudblood' that day. what if their friendship had stayed strong, unbreakable. would he have grown to be a better person? would lily have loved him, rather than james? would harry just have another godfather? would james and lily have survived?

Okay you have successfully convinced me to write a Snape thing, which is a possibility I have audibly forsworn many times to my loved ones. But I’m a sucker for concepts like “Harry gets another godfather,” so, here we go.


When Severus was seven, he fell in love with the girl down the street. She had long red hair and dirty knees and she offered him half her candy bar one drizzly afternoon, waiting outside the school for her parents to come pick her up.

His parents weren’t coming— dad working late and mum at the pub recounting old Hogwarts glory stories, talking of years when her life was magical– but he didn’t tell Lily that. He was just waiting for the older bully boys who lurked in the empty lot on his way home to get bored and leave.

He ate the candy slowly in neat little bites while she grinned and told him about her big sister’s feud with the science teacher, like her Tuney was some sort of hero in a political espionage drama. She talked with her hands, narrow little things with freckled backs. He watched her wave from the back window of her mother’s car and then he started the long walk home.

When Severus was fifteen, James Potter dangled him upside down in the quad and laughed. Severus landed on elbows and knees. The bruises would stay for a week. The memories would not die with them— James’s cocky grin, the laughter in the spring air, the long whip of Lily’s red hair.

He felt small, bug-like, his knees pressing into the grass. His mother would come home some nights, kick the threadbare carpet, rattle the battered old pans in the cupboard, curse a Ministry that hated purebloods, that sucked up to halfbreeds and Mudbloods, that left the true wizards to rot in filth. He would curl up, make himself small, bug-like, imagine a chitinous shield growing over his shoulders, his spine, the softness of his kidneys. Some days, his father slept through this. Some days he screamed back.

After Severus met Lily, he would curl up under his covers, small, bug-like, and read through the comics she’d lent him with his hands pressed up over his ears. He wanted Professor X to come take him away. He wanted to be someone special, someone saved. He wanted a giant to burst through his door and frighten his mother and offer him a squashed birthday cake and a way out.

When Severus was fifteen, he slammed to his knees on the green Hogwarts quad. Laughter burrowed into his ears, like curses, like the nights his father screamed back, and when Lily stepped toward him he snapped, “I don’t need help from a Mudblood.”

When Severus slouched up to her door that summer, Lily didn’t invite him in. She leaned on the open frame of the door, arms crossed. He had so rarely seen Lily neither smiling or incandescent with rage, but she watched him with snakeskin eyes and a set mouth, still.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t–”

She twitched a strand of hair over her shoulder, the irritation the closest thing to an emotion he could spot on her. He was watching, desperate– this was Lily, she gave things away. She talked with her hands. He never felt lost, with her. “But why,” said Lily. “Why are you sorry? Because I’m upset, or because what you did was wrong?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You did, and it’s not the point. I don’t care if it’s the part you care about, Sev, it’s not the part that matters. That was an awful thing to say– to say to anyone. You were cruel because you were scared and embarrassed, but Sev I could really care less. You were cruel.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Sorry’s not enough, Sev. Be fucking better.”

He jerked back and tried to turn it into some kind of laugh. “Language, careful, your mum might hear.”

She shrugged, and stepped back through the open door, and shut it in his face.

He spent the summer reading comic books, haunting the local library, then the local park once it’d closed, and then sneaking home when he was hopeful his parents would be asleep. He tried to think about bravery, but sometimes he just thought about Lily’s hair, the way it went more golden in summer. He tried to think about nobility, ethics and grace, but the clouds chased each other, fat and white, across the sky and he wasn’t sure what any of this had to do with him.

His father took him fishing by a dreary brown creek and they sat in silence. Severus could hear every creak of the rods, every lap of the water, every inhale and movement his father made. He thought maybe if he just said nothing, nothing ever, he’d never say anything again that made Lily’s face go so flat and distant. If he said nothing, maybe nothing would hurt.

His father reached back for a beer can in a swift movement and Severus froze himself unflinching. He sat in that silence afterward, slowing his heartbeat, picking apart the sudden rigid shell of his shoulders. His father hummed, cracking the can open like a gunshot.

He sat alone on the Hogwarts Express that year, stuffed in a compartment with a handful of second years who gave him half the seats while they giggled among themselves about the haircut of someone named Gertrude. Every summer’s end, for five years, he and Lily had boarded the train together, pressed their noses to the window glass, and watched the land rush by.

For the first month of school, Severus practiced pausing before he spoke, for seconds, minutes if he needed them. Sometimes he’d add an answer after the conversation had already moved on, bent over his mashed potatoes, weighing words as carefully as he weighed salamander eyes and mandrake root.

(If you crushed firedrake seeds with the flat of your blade, instead of cutting them, they made a more potent potion. The textbooks told you to stir six times counterclockwise to make Sleeping Draught, but he knew–because he had thought, and tried, and tried again–that if you did five counterclockwise and two clockwise the draught would turn that perfect turquoise and the sleep would be dreamless and sweet and deep. He kept notes in his textbook’s margins, because it helped to remember.)

In the second month, he tried to listen. People were starting to think about life after school, a big yawning chasm they were supposed to fill with themselves. People were starting to fall in love, puppyish and petty. People were starting to believe in the war, whispering, dreaming, fearing.

In the common room, one of the kids said something about Mudbloods and Severus’s head snapped up. He tried to imagine a shell growing into his shoulders, over his spine, covering all the soft parts of him. He wanted his covers, he wanted to shrink, he wanted Lily’s boxfuls of comics, but he rose to his feet and snapped back. Sometimes saying nothing hurt people, too. A small Muggleborn in green and silver ducked away to her dorm, clutching quietly at her sleeves.

For the third month, he tried to watch– not for warning sneers or cocky grins, clenched fists and broad shoulders, all the things he’d been watching for since before he could name them– but for the way shoulders might go rigid, the way fists might clench but hide, wishing for something to shield every soft part of them.

Severus was bony and pimply, sixteen years old and graceless in it, but he could be an interruption. He could mock with the best of them, flicking his brows and twisting his nose, and asking pointed questions. He could talk, smart-mouthed and snide, until the focus turned to him, and then he could survive anything they handed out. He could give as good as he got. The pauses were shorter, these days, before he spoke, but they would always be there, an echo offset from the shout, an avalanche that struck late and terrible.

When kids cried in bathrooms or empty classrooms or the library, he didn’t move to comfort them, though he heard them. He didn’t know how. He wrote his own curses, out in the forest where he could scar the trees in experiment, and they all turned out bloody. He loved few things, even Lily, as much as he loved pouring all of himself into his work, until something new and his own grew out of it. He wasn’t sure he’d ever invented something kind.

He didn’t try to find Lily, but he came back from the Forest once and almost tripped over her, half-napping in Hagrid’s pumpkin patch. He stumbled back into a gargantuan gourd while she pushed hair out of her face and peered up at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, after a pause that rumbled and roiled in his gut, that he clung to with both hands, breathing into it and letting his shoulders go soft. “I’m sorry I said it. I’m sorry I made you feel small because I was feeling– small.”

Lily sat up a bit, in the little semi circle she’d built herself of books and scrolls and gobstones and snacks. She had built fairy circles like that, when they were children, of the flowers he’d transfigured for her.

“I’m sorry anyone has to feel that way, ever,” he said. “They shouldn’t. I’m angry anyone has to feel that way.”

“Me, too,” she said, and, fishing around in the detritus that surrounded her, handed him half a candy bar. “C'mon, you want some tea? Hagrid said he’d put a kettle on for me if I finished my Arithmancy.”

When Severus was in sixth year, Remus Lupin almost killed him on a moonlit night.

Severus had wanted answers, had wanted to get them in trouble, had wanted something a bit like vengeance, and Sirius had told him about the Whomping Willow. Sirius had grinned when he’d done it, small and bitter, and Severus had wondered if he was fighting with James again, wondering why else he’d sell out his friends.

“I didn’t think–” Sirius tried, the morning after, watching Remus across dry toast and cocoa, big juicy bowls of melon.

“You never do,” Remus snapped. (A bare handful of years later, standing in the smoldering ruins of James and Lily’s house, Remus would think about Sirius’s erratic gaze, the sharp edge of his voice, his last name, and wonder if he should have seen it coming. What here was premeditated? What was mischief? Sirius had once almost painted Remus’s own hands with red blood.)

But for now, Remus was sixteen and angry; he was sixteen and guilty of things that might have happened. He didn’t speak to Sirius for a month.

James refused to speak with Sirius, too, but he only lasted a week. Moony was sulking and Peter was busy studying his little heart out, and James got twitchy without proper and regular socialization.

“I’ll punch him in the nose,” said Lily, when Severus told her. She shifted where she sat cross-legged on the library table, like she might go off and hunt him down that second.

“Black doesn’t deserve the attention,” said Severus.

“Getting his ass kicked by a girl? That type of attention?”

“Getting his ass kicked by Lily Evans,” Severus said. “It’d be an honor and you know it.”

Reports of violence outside Hogwarts got worse. People were disappearing. People were whispering, fearing. The papers were ignoring the important things, and feeding off the fearmongering, or so Lily announced in the library while Severus was trying to study.

Alice and Lily had spent years sharing hissed rants in humid greenhouses. Over an undulating bed of luminescent deadly nightshade, Alice bent her head close to Lily’s and asked, “Have you heard of the Order of the Phoenix?”

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@cheshirerabit said: Shit, your teacher Bakugou idea is something I never considered but now think would be really cool. Cuz he would not stop being a hero but he wouldn’t half-ass being a teacher so it would be like how All Might attempted to hero and teach but could actually work. Plus, I’m all for Bakugou’s role model switching with time to Aizawa. 10/10 idea.

Anon said: OMG Fran now i want to see Teacher or Older Bakugou or or Bakugou with Aizawa

Bless both of you for giving me a reason to talk about this cause honestly I love this idea way more than striktly necessary - this!!! is how I like to think it would go down:

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Hot Off The Press

Another AU where Jacky-Boy is a hockey player and Bitty has a job that involves hockey bc that’s my aesthetic. Anyway, I really know nothing about how the world of sports journalism works so there is probably some inaccuracies in here, but it’s an AU so who cares. Artistic license and all that. Very slightly NSFW (i just wanted to get all the warnings out there). 

***

“Are you into men?”

Jack has been asked this question before, but in such a subtle way (and typically involving Parson) that it’s easy to avoid. No reporter has ever straight out asked him. Besides, he’s not gay. He’s bisexual. So when Jack usually tells them, “No.” it’s not a lie. However, this time it feels different. Maybe it wasn’t just this particular time, but all the times added onto each other that’s finally causing him to really think about what hole he’s digging himself into.

The blunt question has him feeling panicky and the other presser notice his reaction too. Jack can’t say no, because that’s not true. He is into men. Jack’s panic quickly shifts, and now he just feels like shoving the microphones away and storming out, because this is hockey goddammit. Not E! news.

“Excuse me?” Jack clears his throat, trying to buy himself some time to think of a properly crafted response. Over the years, he’s developed a talent for that.

But everything is on overdrive and he feels his breath start to quicken again–

“Are you into men?” Another reporter asks, and it takes Jack a moment to realize that the reporter isn’t asking him. He’s asking the man who popped the question in the first place.

 All attention, including Jack’s, turns to the small blonde that got lost in the bundle of people. He holds up his mic towards the reporter who popped the question in the first place. 

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fake dating! zimbits

It was only by a stroke of luck that Jack happened to look at his phone just as he exits the lecture hall. The group chat was blowing up – the group chat was always blowing up these days – but the lack of all-caps or exclamation marks caught his attention right away.

Eric Bittle: Guys, I wouldn’t ask this of y’all if I really didn’t need this, but I have to ask a HUGE favor of one of you.

Shitty Knight: brah are you dying

Justin Oluransi: You can have my kidney, Bits.

Adam Birkholtz: u aren’t gonna save that for me just in CASE, JUSTIN?

Larissa Duan: shit, bitty, r u ok

Eric Bittle: Um, yeah, mostly, I just…..need someone to pretend to be my boyfriend.

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She Never Stopped Smiling

by reddit user Pippinacious

Fly was an odd kid, even by odd kid standards. I met her in sixth grade, when our alphabetically ordered last names landed us in adjacent seats, and she turned to look at me with a cheerful, gap toothed smile.

“Hi!” She said.

“Hi.” I replied quietly.

I was shy and intimidated by my first day in middle school, but she wasn’t the least bit nervous.

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whatever you do, don’t think about the possibility that lup, in the umbrastaff, went into the white space with taako in the eleventh hour and saw everything he saw.

don’t think about her watching as the chalice rewinds through his past and seeing nothing but static where she should be. all those memories of growing up together, life on the road, hopping from caravan to caravan, watching each other’s backs, teaching each other spells - all those memories that she treasures, memories that sustained her over ten lonely years in wave echo cave, memories that kept her sane and grounded and herself because they were so important to her…. all of them, just gone. staticked over like it’s nothing.

and she knows by know that taako’s forgotten her. she knows lucretia must have pulled some bullshit with fisher and the mission logs and that’s why no one remembers, she knows all that and understands it’s not their fault, not his fault for forgetting her - but that doesn’t stop it from hurting. it doesn’t take the sting out of seeing the most important person in her life unable to even acknowledge her existence. 

and then she gets to watch the years he spent alone - actually, properly alone for the first time in his life, and how terribly he took it, to the point where he latched on to the first person who would have him despite the fact that their working relationship was unhealthy and unbalanced right from the start. she watches his pride and vanity get the better of him without her there to help keep it in check, she watches sazed’s hero worship turn to jealousy turn to resentment turn to murderous intent and she’s fucking terrified at how close he came to actually taking out his intended target. taako could have died in glamour springs with the others - died for good, with no lich powers or starblaster to bring him back - and she never would have known. out of everything she sees in the white space, that scares her the most of all. 

and then after all that, just to put the cherry on top of this sundae of misery, the chalice decides to give thb one parting “fuck you” and shows them phandalin burning in glorious hi-def slow mo cuz it’s a vindictive little shit of a relic. meaning that, not only does lup - the same gal who values the fuck out of sentient life to the point where she was willing to fight her crewmates in order to protect a bunch of robots - get to watch the relic she created burn up thousands and thousands of innocent civilians…. oh no, that’s not enough. she also gets to see her creation kill one barold j bluejeans, the love of her fucking life. so that’s fun too. 

(which is not even to mention thb encountering barry outside of refuge and his helpless little “they don’t trust me, lup” and she’s RIGHT FUCKING THERE but can’t do anything to make him feel better and just guhhh. cut our poor girl some fucking slack, griffin, she’s had a shitty enough day as it is)

i just, i dunno man. the more i think about the end of that arc in the context of what we know now, the more upsetting it is. lup deserves a fucking break after all she went through in eleventh hour. and her body back. and $15. with 110 years worth of interest for her troubles.

{Final Chapter: PART 30} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; N/A.

“And in the end, he had everything he had only ever hoped of having; her, only her - for the rest of time.”

Warning: Although this chapter doesn’t have an M rating, there are some scenes of slight mature/sexual content.

This is the final chapter to this series! If you would like to read my author’s note, I have placed it at the end of this post after the chapter for those who wish to see it~ Thank you, and I hope you enjoy IWSY’s final chapter ^^

{Part 1} // {Part 29} {Final Chapter: Part 30}

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deal | pt 1 (m)

Originally posted by sugamysavagebaby

summary: the years spent working hard had really paid off and was it so wrong to want to rub that in a few faces? The cliché mean girls that often teased you for not doing anything with your hair or clothing, wouldn’t it be great to show off someone like Jungkook? High school reunion au + ceo!jeon

word count: 6,366 

part two | part three 


Eyes like ice, cold and calculating narrow over the rim of a wine glass. Soft lips press to the polished glass, the crimson complimenting tan skin. If it weren’t for the soft dent between his brows you would have assumed he had not heard you. He takes his time allowing the wine to caress his palate, eyes closed as he savors the taste.  As always, he makes you wait until the wine glass is drained of it’s dark contents. You ponder on the taste, if it is bitter upon his tongue much like his words.

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Patronus
  • So the patronus isn’t straight up taught in Hogwarts, as a wise professor once said, it’s a ‘highly advanced spell, well beyond O.W.L level’
  • But you know, this is the marauders, the rebellious little nerds that we all know and love.
  • So James got hold of a book from  the library one day about how to do the patronus and it seemed very cool. Not the whole fighting dementors part, but the distant and simple communication? priceless for a marauder.
  • And so they all stayed up one night trying to learn how to do it.
  • Sirius was actually the first to successfully do the spell. He had spent the last hour lavishly flinging his wand in the air shouting ‘Expecto Patronum!’ to no avail. Them Remus told him he should try to think of a happier memory.
  • He thought of the first time he had called Euphemia Potter ‘mum’. It had been an accident and had really just slipped out. He had been so embarrassed. But none of the Potter’s seemed to have noticed. A few moments later James had turned over to Sirius and said.’Could you pass your brother the salt then?’
  • And Sirius had never felt more part of a family in his life.
  • He was so engrossed in the memory he didn’t even notice the frantic black dog shoot out to his wand and knock Peter onto his backside.
  • Peter was next, he was thinking of the moment when some of the Slytherins had been bullying him earlier one day in first year and he had been crying down by the lake all afternoon, only to have Remus come up and sit behind him, rubbing his back and comforting him. Then Sirius and James had pushed the Slytherins into the Black lake right in front of him. How they had laughed. Real friends.
  • The small rat that scurried out of Peter’s wand that night was the first and last one Peter could ever produce. This was 6th year and soon the war became to much for the young boy.
  • Standing next to a struggling James, Remus was viciously whispering and flicking his wrists over and over again. ‘Expecto Patronum. Expecto Patronum. Expecto f’fucks sake. This is hopeless.’
  • ‘You can do it Moony.’ Sirius smiled.
  • Remus thought about the first time he had kissed the stupid black haired Gryffindor in front of him. Sirius had been stealing something out of one of the cupboards along the school corridors when Remus had caught him on prefect rounds.
  • Looking back on it Remus couldn’t help but laugh at how unsubtle Sirius had been about the whole thing. ‘Oh, we seem to have bumped into each other Moons’ ‘What a coincidence.’ Remus of course had just assumed Sirius was trying to tease him into giving him detention, something Remus would never do, and had ended up getting pretty annoyed and flustered about being this close to Sirius in a small space and omg he could feel the heat of his skin and ah this was too much and he couldn’t stop talking.
  • Until Sirius closed that little gap between them to shut him up.
  • And Remus had never been happier. And he had never looked back.
  • And then a large animal came running out of the end of his wand, and Remus thought to himself.
  • ‘It’s a dog! Sirius and I have the same Patronus!’
  • Only Remus’ was much bigger than Sirius’ dog… and it’s tail was bushier.. and did it just howl?
  • No. This wasn’t fair. Not this. That wasn’t how this was supposed t be. It was meant to be a happy memory. This wasn’t fair, after all this time, the one thing he thought he could share with his boyfriend.. and this was what he gets… another reminder about how imperfect and unworthy and unwanted…
  • And then there was Sirius standing next to him, sliding his arm around his back and kissing him gently on the cheek.
  • ‘I love it.’ He whispered.
  • ‘ ‘s not fair.’ Remus mumbled.
  • ‘Remus look.’ Sirius replied. ‘it’s not that. It’s a wolf. A normal wolf. A loyal and pack having, friendly wolf.’
  • And Sirius was grinning.
  • But Remus just shrugged.
  • James was having the most trouble of them all.
  • Something was wrong, he just couldn’t seem to do it. He kept thinking of happy memories, first time he rode a broom, first time Sirius came to stay, first time he transformed into a stag.
  • And still nothing.
  • Tiny wisps of silver.
  • And then nothing.
  • ‘It’s fine James, we already know what it’s going to be.’
  • ‘I know,’ James replied through gritted teeth. ‘I just want to see it.’
  • And he was so fustrated.
  • And making a crap load of noise about it too.
  • So much noise in fact, that he started to wake the other residents of the Gryffindor tower up from their slumber.
  • And so a very grumpy and tired Lily Evans came storming down the staircase.
  • ‘What in Merlin’s name are you twats doing now!’
  • ‘Ah Evans.’ Sirius grinned. ‘care to join us?’
  • ‘It’s three in the fucking morning Black! I’m supposed to be sleeping, except someone has been screaming for the past half hour about how hard this is and he trying but it’s not working, and I can’t tell if James is finally losing his virginity or doing his homework for once, but what I do know is that it’s stopping me from being able to enjoy the few hours of the day that I don’t have to be around you lot.’
  • A rather deeply embarrassed James pushed past a bent-over-with-laughter Sirius.
  • ‘Actually Lily,’ he said, trying to act suave and like he hand’t just heard the last bit. ‘We are trying to do the patronus charm.’
  • This had peaked Lily’s interest, and although she knew better, she asked. ‘Really? The patronus charm? Wow. A proper one?’
  • ‘Yepp.’ peter chimed in. ‘And we’ve all been able to do it, except for James.’
  • Lily cocked her eyebrow.
  • ‘Oh.’ She smiled. ‘Let me try then.’
  • James, not wanting to be shown up any more by the fiery red head who was hopelessly in love with, quickly butted in. ‘No no. I mean, you can try.. but its really hard and took everyone ages to master and you’ll be up all night trying and-’
  • ‘Potter.’ She replied sternly.
  • It only took her three attempts.
  • And there it was.
  • A beautiful silver shimmering doe burst through the tip of her wand and gracefully ran across the common room, galloping past it occupants before turning and vanishing as Lily dropped her arm. She grinned.
  • ‘See? Not so hard then.’
  • James just stared. Open mouthed. Like the rest of the marauders. Dumb-founded in total and complete shock, until Lily just gave up on them and went back off to bed.
  • James didn’t have any trouble producing a Patronus after that.
Bet On Me

Reggie x Reader

A/N: This is my first ever fic and I hope you all like it!! Requests for all other Riverdale characters are open!! (This is my first fic because Reggie is bae)

Word Count: 3369

Warnings: Swearing, slight angst, violence, heavy make-out session (is that even a warning?)

Summary: Reggie is dared to date Y/N, the sweet and popular untouched cheerleader. He does so, although not expecting to fall for her in the process.

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Putting Lipstick On A Pig

by reddit user Pippinacious

Except for the whole murder thing, Courtney James seemed like a lovely young woman. She was bright, articulate, a dedicated college student and well liked waitress at a popular restaurant.

I met her when she was sitting in an interrogation room at the precinct. She was a bit on the larger side, dressed conservatively in pastel colors and minimal makeup, and when I came in, she introduced herself with a polite smile, as if we were meeting for a job interview as opposed to a police investigation. She had declined to have an attorney present, so I got right to business.

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Say That Again

Summary: Soulmate AU. Everyone hears a key word or phrase in their head from their soulmate, something only heard in person when the moment is right.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,543

Warnings: language, self-consciousness, fluff, that’s basically it

A/N: This is my submission for the lovely wonderful talented @bladebarnes’ 2k Celebration Challenge. My prompt was 35. quote: “Say that again.” I saw Baby Driver recently and couldn’t get the diner thing out of my head.

Originally posted by coporolight

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sad boy + justin foley

plot : after his mum’s new boyfriend kicks him out, Justin only has one thing to do

word count : 1403

notes : for two people who wanted Justin Foley but I forgot their accounts so I’m sorry for not tagging

+++

Running out of his house, bag slung over his shoulder, Justin wiped his wet eyes on the sleeve of his varsity jacket, only for the tears to be replaced with new ones. He didn’t stop until he couldn’t run anymore, legs aching, throat burning. He had no idea where he was, he couldn’t tell with his blurry vision. It was almost nightfall, not a person In sight. He fell to his knees, bag dropping with a loud thump, as a quiet sob passed his lips.

There was one thing Justin could think of doing. One person he wanted to talk to now, he needed to talk to right now. He reached into his pocket, hands trembling as he did so, retrieving his phone. He somehow found your contact, a picture of your beaming face on his screen, the image alone calming him down the tiniest bit. He shakily pressed the dial button, holding his breath while waiting for you to pick up. Begging you to answer.

One ring. Two ring.

More tears gathered in his eyes.

Three ring.

You were probably busy. You didn’t need him as a burden.

Four ring.

More and more tears fell as another sob racked his body.

“Hey”

The world stopped. Justin’s voice was caught in his throat, no words forming.

“Justin? You there?”

He couldn’t help the cry he let out of his mouth.

“Justin?! Are you okay?”

The sound of your panicked voice, filled Justin’s heart. You cared, you were the only one who cared.

“Y-Y/N”

It was only a whisper, something you shouldn’t have caught but you did.

“Justin? What happened? What’s wrong? What did they do?”

“I- I can’t. I-”

The words wouldn’t come out, as much as Justin tried.

“Where are you? I’m coming to pick you up” you stated.

Justin heard the jingling of keys through the phone.

“I- I don’t know. There’s houses and- and a-” he stuttered, trying to speak through the suffocation he was feeling.

“Justin. Stop. Breathe in. Breathe out. Now tell me, can you see a street sign anywhere?”

He did as you instructed, following your smooth, familiar voice.

“Risely Avenue” he said after a while.

“Stay where you are, I’m coming. And Justin?”

He blinked back more tears as he listened to you talk.

“Yeah?”

“Everything will be okay”

It was a mere 10 minutes before your familiar car drove up the street, headlights illuminating the otherwise dark road. Justin looked at the ground as he stood, ashamed to look at you in his current state. He heard the click of the car door opening, followed the by the clicking of your shoes on the gravel road. He managed to look up, eyes meeting with your warm ones. You stood right in front of him, inches away. You held your arms out and in less than a second, Justin fell into your arms.

“Hey”

He swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat.

“Hey” he replied, his voice a tiny squeak.

You pulled away, much to Justin’s dismay. You picked up his bag from the floor and he didn’t have the energy to protest, taking his hand in yours, you walked back to your car, settling them in. And then you drove.

“Y/N”

You turned to look at your boyfriend of more than a year for a second before fixing your eyes back on the road.

“I- uhm I-”

“You don’t have to explain Justin. Not now anyway”

You pressed your lips together, gently placing a hand on his knee while keeping the other on the steering wheel. He flinched at the sudden contact, but your hand stayed where it was.

“I’m sorry, I just I-”

He immediately started to apologise, even though you thought nothing of it and completely understood.

“Sh, Justin. Just relax, you’re with me now” you assured, running a thumb across his jean clad knee.

He nodded, swallowing thickly, shutting his eyes and focusing on your soft touch. You flicked your eyes to him, watching his long eyelashes fall on his cheekbones. His eyes were red and puffy from crying, dried tears on his cheeks.

Soon enough, you reached your house, parking the car in the driveway. Justin opened his eyes, blinking a few times. You silently hopped out, grabbing his bag from the backseat before opening the passenger door.

“You don’t have to do all this” Justin mumbled.

“Come on” you urged, ignoring his statement.

The two of you walked into your house, the warmth engulfing you both. You took his hand in yours, leading him to the spare bedroom.

“Have you eaten yet?” you questioned.

Justin shook his head, like you expected.

“Well, you know where the showers are, I’m going to heat up dinner okay?”

He nodded, looking at the floor. You could tell he was on the verge of another round of tears. You frowned, walking up to him and wearing your arms around his neck, placing a kiss on his cheek. You felt him smile, even if it was a small one.

You stepped away, smiling at him softly, before leaving the room. You walked to your kitchen, getting the leftovers from Robert out to heat them up. Nobody should be treated how Justin is. Justin didn’t call you about this, usually going to Bryce’s house or Alex’s but not yours. He never wanted to bother you with his problems, thinking he would be a burden to you. It took Justin almost a year before he even told you about his condition at home and that was only after Zach accidentally mentioned it.

You took the food out of the microwave, placing it on the dinner table while waiting for him to arrive. Your parents were big business people, meaning they were out of town a lot of the time, so they bought you your own little house to stay in which they occasionally visited.

Ten minutes later, the sound of water running stopped, meaning Justin was out of the shower. Another ten minutes later, Justin padded into the dining room, where you were waiting for him. His hair was dripping wet, droplets trailing down the back of his neck. His eyes were redder, even puffier while his bottom lip quivered. What you noticed now was the significant bruises that had formed around his neck and the sight of all of this made you shatter a little on the inside. He tugged at his sleeves, still looking at the floor. He had changed into a pair of sweats and a t shirt.

You went to him, pressing a slight kiss on his shaking lips. You gripped his jaw with a feather-like touch, tilting it upwards to expose the purple and blue skin of his neck. You gingerly touched the large bruises that were vaguely in the shape of fingerprints. He gulped, Adam’s apple bobbing under your thumb. You sighed and pulled away.

“Sit, Justin”

He listened to your words, taking a seat next to you. He picked up his fork, staring at his food with no intention of eating it.

“I’m not that hungry right now Y/N, I’m sorry for making you go to all this trouble-”

“It’s fine Justin, I understand. Want to go to bed?” you offered.

He nodded, standing up from the table with you following suit. You put his plate back in the fridge before taking his hand and walking back to bed. You got in first, opening your arms and inviting him to lay with you. He complied immediately, putting his head on your shoulder, intertwining your legs.

“You have to report them Justin. Those bruises… they look bad. It’s the worse it’s gotten so far” you gulped, your own heart becoming heavy with the thought.

“I can’t Y/N, I’ll be shipped off to some foster home with people I don’t even know and I might even have to move away. I’m not risking that”

You nodded, it was a hard decision for anyone.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine”

As the words left his mouth, you felt wetness on your shoulder.

“Oh Justin, you don’t need to act strong now. It’s okay to be human” you whispered into his ear.

And those were all it took before he broke down for the third time that evening. His body shook violently as you held him tight.

“It’ll all be okay Justin. I promise”

And in that moment, Justin realised that the only real place he felt safe was with you.

Did you ever have a genuine psychic/medium experience?

Although many readings can be attributed to cold readings or sheer coincidence sometimes it’s uncanny how accurate psychics/mediums can be. Here’s a collection of supposedly genuine experiences from threads. If you have an experience feel free to tag me @sixpenceee!

by reddit user Jinuxxx

I never believe in palm /card readings. I don’t actually believe in it nowadays. BUT when I was in 9th grade, my friend took me with her to a fortune teller so she can have her future read. Surprisingly she mentioned about her love dilemma, a blonde guy and dark haired guy. She was completely convinced about her reading powers while I was meh… We’re teenagers, it’s natural we’ll find ourselves in situations like this. And then she predicted the scores she’ll get at the exams when you finish high school (in our country there are some mandatory subjects for the exams, thus multiple numbers) she guessed that right. If I think really hard about probabilities and stuff I can find a logic explanation to that as well. 

by reddit user GoobyBear22

About 5 years ago I saw a psychic that a family friend had told me was the real deal. I went in skeptical and came out a believer.

She used tarot cards and knew things that could have been lucky guesses, like that I had just bought a house and was renovating it, but she also knew specific things that no one else could have known.

The most amazing part of the whole thing was that she knew that I had some complications with my hormones and had a surgery in the past that would make getting pregnant very difficult, but she told me Despite all this, I would have a baby later in life. Toward the end of the reading she hands me the tarot cards and tells me to shuffle them. Then tells me to ask three questions in my mind one at a time. I decided to really test her authenticity so the first question I decided to ask was am I going to have children, and halfway through laying the five cards down, she stops and looks at me and scolds me saying “I already told you that you were going to have one child!” hah this is when I knew.

by reddit user wobblerss

This was before I was born. My mom had a neighbor who was a grandpa who could see the future. He told my mom that my sister would be really sick when she became a preteen and not to worry because she’d be okay. When my sister was a preteen she was diagnosed with cancer and after a year and a half she was perfectly fine. My mom was pregnant with me when she met him again and he told her that I would be a c-section baby. My mom already knew this and said she had scheduled the c-section already since I was breach but he was adamant that she would have me on a certain day and that the c-section wouldn’t go on the planned day. I was born on the exact day he predicted.

Nothing too crazy but the fact that he knew that my sister would be sick and would be okay is crazy to me. He also didn’t want any money and approached my mom and asked if he could do a reading for her.

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On Camera

Or that one time Lance decided to live-stream when he really should’ve been resting. The (established) klance YouTuber AU that no one asked for, but you’re all getting. Domestic klance sharing an apartment is my jam, and throwing a little angst in there is a bonus.

I’m actually really happy with this, and if people like it I might do an actual long AU thing with this setting, so feedback is appreciated! For now though, just a one-shot. This is also proof that the best writing for me happens at 3 AM… oops. I hope you enjoy!!

Psst @taylor-tut this is that thing I not-so-discreetly mentioned in my tags, have a wonderful day.


Lance McClain was a rulebreaker in every way, except for one thing. He believed it was always necessary to have a routine, and never stray from it. If asked, he’d inform you that a steady routine was the foundation for a steady life.

Showering every morning, brushing his teeth every night, thinking of a cheesy one-liner for Keith each day without fail, the list went on. Little things.

One of his many routines was to live-stream, always on Sundays. Because who did anything besides sit at home, definitely not with a hangover, on Sunday?

New videos went up on Wednesdays, but the carefully edited ones on YouTube and his live-streams were very different. Many fans even preferred seeing him live, mainly because he couldn’t stop himself from making bad jokes, and was usually too lazy to straighten his bedhead.

And they would always ask him to go bother Keith in the next room, which Lance more often than not was obliged to do.

So when he woke up late one Sunday with a killer headache and a stuffy nose, Lance wasn’t about to let it get in the way of his routine.

He discovered a note from Keith on the kitchen table that said he’d be out running errands, and Lance lamented that he hadn’t been awake to tell Keith to get soup. After shooting him a quick text, the only response Lance got was “You don’t even like soup.”

Lance chuckled softly, which quickly led to a series of wet coughs. Clearing his throat, he began to set up his camera, wrapped himself up in blankets, and started the stream.

“Hey guys,” he said with a small wave, and winced at how raspy his voice sounded. He sniffled, and edged the off-screen box of tissues closer to him.

The chat was quickly flooded with “HELLO”’s and “LANCE!”’s. By now, all the fans knew when he went live. Lance was, however, surprised to see several inquiries about his health.

There were quite a few “Are you okay”’s, and even some “You seem sick”’s, with one of Lance’s personal favorites being “You look like shit.”

He read off the last comment with a short laugh. “Thanks, KeiththeKutie05.” Then, as an afterthought, he added, “Nice name.”

After a short pause of him continuing to scan the chat, he spoke again. “I’m fine though, just got a cold or something. Nothing could stop me from live-streaming!”

As the viewers seemed satisfied with this response, Lance wasn’t surprised to see the usual repetition of “Where’s Keith?” in the chat. He sighed.

“Mullet Boy is running errands,” Lance told them, rolling his eyes for effect. “Probably going out to buy a new pair of fingerless gloves.”

Keith and Lance had been sharing an apartment for some time now, and the Internet was very invested in their relationship, or so it seemed. Keith was annoyed by the whole thing at first, but Lance found it entertaining that his fans seemed to like Keith better than him. Lance could, admittedly, relate.

Eventually, the accidental publicity that came with dating a YouTuber inspired Lance to make a collab channel for them, though Keith never got his own. He insisted that he was too awkward to film anything by himself, which Lance secretly found adorable.

Numerous people began telling Lance to prank Keith when he came back, to which Lance grinned. Playing tricks on Keith during live-streams had become somewhat of a tradition in and of itself. “Maybe I will,” Lance tapped his chin thoughtfully. “You guys got any ideas?”

Lance read through some of the responses but saw nothing particularly appealing, then perked up at someone asking when he’d do a video with Hunk again.

“Actually, I got some good news for you guys,” Lance declared, sneezing into his elbow before continuing. “Hunk and I are going to be playing videogames on Pidge’s channel sometime next week, and Hunk has both of us coming over to his and Shay’s for a baking video. I haven’t decided what we should do for my part yet. Maybe a Q & A?”

Once again, Lance’s eyes scanned through the suggestions until his eyes snagged on one he liked. “Cards Against Humanity, huh? With YouTube’s shitty new rules it could get demonetized, but I do love that game, so why not? I’m positive Pidge owns it, and I can tell them to bring it over. Maybe I can even convince Keith to play with us.”

Lance couldn’t help but smile at the enthusiastic response that got.

“I think I’m going to get myself some more coffee,” Lance decided, looking down at the empty mug resting on a coaster. “Last night Keith made me watch this really scary movie, so I naturally had trouble falling asleep. Gotta have coffee to keep myself functioning. Do you guys prefer coffee or tea? Keith and I are both coffee people, but he likes his black. No sugar or anything, disgusting if you ask me.”

Lance almost regretted this comment as a war of opinions on black coffee slowly took over his computer screen.

“Well, anyway, I’m gonna go to the kitchen real quick. I’d bring my laptop but… I’d probably spill coffee on it, and we can’t have that.”

Lance stood, and was about to start towards the next room when his vision abruptly blurred and refocused. He knew immediately something was wrong.

His legs felt like jelly, and the room seemed to spin as he took a single step forward. Had he only been fine when he was sitting? Lance had half the mind to sit right back down, but his brain was growing muddled, and direction simply didn’t make sense.

Lance’s migraine flared abruptly in intensity, and then suddenly the wood floor was rushing up to meet him. Everything went dark.


Keith glanced at his phone as he moved around to the back of the car, where he’d stored the groceries, and had to repress a fond smile at the Twitter notification on the screen. Lance was, apparently, live-streaming. Keith thought he might actually miss his time-slot for once, but he figured by now he should be used to the Cuban boy’s dedication to routine.

Lance’s channel got some negative feedback from more ‘sophisticated’ YouTubers for being… all over the place. A dedicated beauty guru, or PrinceLotor as his channel was called, had dragged Lance on Twitter on more than one occasion.

Lance was anything but consistent when it came to videos. He did whatever he felt like doing that week, and the fans loved it. Sometimes he played songs on his guitar, sometimes he did prank-calls. He would film Q&A’s, or tell stories about all the interesting stuff that happened in his life— Lance’s bad luck was rather famous. He recommended TV shows, did hauls of what he got for holidays, vlogged on occasion when he went to stores, you name it.

But Lance’s favorite thing to do were collabs.

Hunk, an incredibly smart engineer, had a baking channel as a hobby, and Lance was his favorite assistant.

Pidge was a newer gaming channel, but their obsession with theorizing about the game’s lore while playing and busting other fan theories made them grow in popularity quickly. For two player games, Lance was ideal.

Allura was an extremely popular beauty channel, and Lance let her give him makeovers whenever she wanted to. Shiro could use extra actors in his short films.

And Keith… well, the two of them had a channel together that had no pattern whatsoever, much to Lance’s dislike. Absolutely spontaneous and random, usually doing things by popular fan request, like dancing or karaoke. And uploads were by no means regular.

Keith was surprised at how much he had started to enjoy it. Lance had been telling him he should start an art channel, with animations and speedpaints and the like, and Keith wasn’t… that opposed to the idea. It could be a useful source of income, to help with all the debt he would come into after graduating college. But he’d never tell Lance.

Without thinking too much of it, Keith swiped right across his screen, taking him to Lance’s tweet about the live-stream in order to like it. He was about to close his phone again and begin taking groceries up to their apartment when his eyes snagged on something odd.

Lots of the replies to Lance’s tweet mentioned him, particularly the recent ones, even tagging him in it. Keith couldn’t fathom why they would be talking about him if he wasn’t on the stream, unless Lance was complaining about him live again.

Keith bristled. Lance better not be still annoyed at him for the movie the last night. Signs wasn’t scary at all, and not even a real horror movie! Lance simply stated that ‘he didn’t mess with aliens.’

But when he looked at all the mentions, Keith felt his irritation give way to confusion, and then panic.

“KEITH GET TO UR APARTMENT”, “YOU BETTER GO CHECK ON LANCE”, “HOLY SHIT HES COLLAPSED KEITH HURRY YA ASS UP”, and the one that really sent Keith reeling “UH GUYS IS IT JUST ME OR DID WE WITNESS LANCE’S DEATH ON CAMERA?”

Keith slammed the trunk, all groceries forgotten as he sprinted into the apartment building and ran for the stairs. They only lived on the third floor, and he was not about to wait for the slow, crowded elevator.

He fumbled to fit his key in the lock and opened the door to the living room, only to spot the live-streaming set up, with no Lance. Keith rushed forward, but drew up short when he realized that Lance was in fact passed out on the floor in front of the couch.

“Oh my god— Lance!” Keith sank down beside him, turning his boyfriend over. “Lance, are you okay? Can you hear me?”

Lance’s eyes opened slowly, and Keith felt relief flood his system, despite the uncharacteristically pale skin. “K-Keith? Wha… I thought you were shopping?”

“I’m back,” Keith answered shortly, wincing as he pressed a hand onto Lance’s forehead. “Jeez, you’re on fire. Why didn’t you tell me you were this sick?!”

“Are you a fire?” Lance mumbled under his breath, and Keith furrowed his brows in confusion.

“What? No, Lance, I was saying you have a fever.”

“Because you’re hot and I want s'more,” Lance continued, as if he hadn’t heard him at all. Keith was suddenly painfully aware that the live-stream was still going, and that his face was even more flushed than Lance’s, and not because of a fever.

Keith glanced at the computer sitting on the coffee table briefly, noting that most of the chat was full of random keyboard smashing. He smiled apologetically. “At least he’s conscious,” he shrugged, hoisting Lance up off the floor and propping one of his arm’s around Keith’s shoulder. “I’m going to take this idiot to the hospital, he’s way too hot.”

“So you finally admitted it,” Lance’s voice was barely audible, and Keith glanced back down to see him grinning up at Keith tiredly.

“I meant your temperature, dumbass. Next time, tell me when you’re not feeling well.”

And with that, he shut off the stream.

Tantalizing: 07

Originally posted by jikookfantasy

Tantalizing: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08
Ship: Jungkook | Reader
Description: Back in high school, you were nothing more than a nerd Jungkook wanted to deflower, to get a good fuck from. When he sees you at the club, though, things have changed drastically, and his dominance starts to teeter on the edge.
Warning: Dom!Jungkook, Intercourse, Oral, Blowjob, Hair Pulling, Tons of Fucking Angst, Masturbating, Exhibitionism, Overstimulation, Slight Degrading Names?
Word Count: 6,631

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Jewel In The Crown (M)

florist!kihyun, 15.1k, he knows what beautiful is but he’s also a bit jealous and has shitty friends

warning: smut (kihyun is a virgin, his first time, oral for both, slightly dom!kihyun i guess??)

“You look really nice by the way…Ignore that. You look beautiful. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known.”

Originally posted by wonhontology

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Cold As Ice

Originally posted by v-writings

Peter Parker x Shy Reader

Request: Yes

Summary: After discovering their powers and wanting to save a troubled citizen, the Reader is left to dealt with the consequences, but ends up finding out a certain secret from a certain spiderling instead.

Word Count: 3,180 (omg)

Warnings: Language, cuteness, discovery of powers, fluff, fight scene, shy!Reader, *slight* assault scene, suck-ass ending (bc I’m trash and I suck at writing), (Please let me know if I missed anything).

A/N: For some reason, I had such a hard time making a summary for this ?? Hopefully the anon that requested this thinks it’s okay. :// I’m slowly moving through all my requests (I have a lot lol). Anyway, let me know what you think as always and enjoy reading!


Walking into Midtown High, you cautiously grudge towards your locker in order to get your books for today’s classes.

These past few days have been strange, to say the least.

Despite it being almost the end of the school year and the hot weather finally arriving, you somehow felt cold to your bones.

Instead of wearing short sleeves and shorts, you started dressing in sweatshirts and pants.

Maybe I’m getting sick…?

Maybe it’s just the chills…?

You kept making excuses like that, but the coldness never seemed to go away.

It’s been happening for a couple weeks now, but you didn’t know what to do.

You didn’t know what this was.

Well, not until today.

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