and now i will proceed to be awake for three more hours

Small Bump | 01

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader.

Words: 1,897.

Genre: Angst, fluff(?).

Summary: “Things you said when you were scared.”

A/N: I’ve decided to jump on the train and write these small drabbles based on various prompts as a way to take a break from my super long fics and have a different creative outlet. ALSO, highkey based on the song Small Bump by Ed Sheeran.

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How to become a good student (again) 3: Yearn for friendship - not worship; not debasement

Hello, fellow ex-good student!

‘tis done! This beast just got longer and longer, so I decided to cut it down a bit for the sake of readability. But let me know if there’s something that was too vague - the nuance might have got lost in the editing process.

Alright, let’s get down to business (to defeat! The Huns!)! So, if you’re an ex-good student, I’m pretty sure that you know this static in your head, right? Whenever you really need to do something but you just can’t get up and do it, so you keep procrastinating even though you hate it and keep scrolling and scrolling or gaming and gaming and feel more and more guilty?

Well, it might not be the most immediate analogy, but for this post I want you to consider that what connects you and your subject of study is essentially a relationship and that this static is (among other things) an indicator of how screwed up your relationship is. Just like with real people, your relationships with subjects can either

  • prosper and bear fruit (me & Creative Writing)
  • become cold and distant (me & French)
  • or, worst of all, turn sour and actively harmful. (me & PE, back in school)

Now, nobody likes to hear that they’re relationship-ing wrong. And it is true that different approaches work for different people. But here are the counter-productive relationships that I’ve personally ended up in and I’m gonna show you how I got into and out of them, so you can try to do the same. Maybe it’ll help you lift that static from your head.

Side-Note: Always remember that, since your subjects are just that (subjects), and not real people, you are the only one who can actually mend these relationships and, conversely, you are the one who screwed them up in the first place (probably with good intentions, though).

So, we’ll take them in this order:

1) Overeager Debasement

2) Undereager Debasement

3) Worship


(Oh, and in case you wanna catch up:

Masterpost 

Part 1

Part 2)


1) Overeager Debasement

What is it?

The desire to do everything, perfectly, at the same time, right now. Not to limit yourself to just one field of study, but to master them all, to reign supreme above knowledge, to keep your mind wide open to new possibilities, similarities and contradictions.
You overvalue your own capacities and undervalue the needs and difficulties of your subject.
(also refer to the first post for this)

How did you get here?

(read picture from right to left)

So. Many. Possible. Reasons.

  • it’s a cage. The idea of doing just one thing for the rest of your life scares you and you feel imprisoned at the thought of it
  • you know that you could be outstanding if you applied yourself
  • you know that you could be even more outstanding if you became accomplished in multiple fields
  • you want to find connections between fields nobody’s ever considered before
  • you feel like you’ve wasted your last few years and need to catch up to others
  • you’re afraid that you’re not good enough
  • you’re afraid of being ignorant
  • you’re arrogant

No matter the reason (I’ve gone through them all), people caught in this state of mind shovel more and more onto their plate.
And then wonder why they can’t swallow it all.

What do you think you’re doing?

A labour of love, most likely. You think you love languages and sciences and athletics and programming and cooking and hanging out with friends and being alone and so you just want to do it all!
You don’t want to limit yourself! You don’t want to lose any time! But there’s just so much and you have so little energy and ugh, if only I wasn’t destined for greatness, then I could relax like other little people, but no, I need to keep pushing! In every! Direction! At the same! Time!

I know your delusion. I’ve been there. You imagine yourself to be that one perfect friend who gets up at 6am, watches the sun rise, does yoga, eats a healthy breakfast, goes for a quick run, comes back home, answers all correspondence, is artistic for a few hours, then scientific for a few hours, then social for a few hours and ends the day with tiny masterpieces in each area, goes out with friends or family to grab a healthy dinner and goes to sleep, happy and balanced :)

Well, you know what, my starry-eyed friend?

What are you actually doing?

You’re the mental equivalent of a social butterfly.
You’re being fucking disrespectful.

You’re always on the run and never able to really commit to anything, because you’ve already scheduled something else afterwards. You’re shallow, deluded, that one friend that always comes in running, screaming “Besties  ~ ♥” and everyone shifts uncomfortably in their seats and smiles a painful smile and humours you, because they know you mean well, but they also know that you know nothing about them. 
You’ve never been there for them ever, but always expect them to be there for you. Whenever they want to talk about themselves, you nod and then proceed to about yourself and your plans and “ohmygosh, this is so nice, we need to meet more often ~ ♥ “. But at least you mean well, so they’ve agreed to keep it simple and on the “The weather is nice today”-level with you. 

But here you are, wondering why you’re not making any progress.
Mysterious.

So what do I do?

Well, you need to go from this:

To this:

How? More on that below.


2) Undereager Debasement

What is it?

This stage is what happens when you notice that your lofty ideals from Overeager Debasement cannot be fulfilled. You turn bitter, hateful, cold. You think you’re a failure, you think you were too soft. Instead of wanting to be friends with everyone, you now want to rule over everyone, fuck what they want.

You’re burnt out. You’re done. You just want to get through these stupid classes and catch a goddamn break, goddamnit.

And you WILL get through. You’re too proud to do anything else. But you don’t really care about any of it.
You just want to make it.

How did you get here?

If you were a good student, you probably heard at some point or another that you were “different” and that your complex and mysterious ways were not understandable and definitely not achievable for your average classmate.

Most people who tell you this mean well. A few want to make fun of you, but most actually do mean it as a compliment. But they don’t know how dangerous it is to hear it again and again, because regardless of whether it’s true or not, you start to believe it.
You start to believe that somehow, you have a higher calling, a higher standard. And you start to long for that day when your high standards will be met - when you will go to that one mysterious class where everyone is just as eager as you are, where the “Oh, captain, my captain!”-teacher will spark a fire in your brain that will never go out and when your ominous “gifts” can finally be put to good use for the prosperous future of mankind.


And you work.

And work.

And the class never comes.

You feel the weight on your shoulders when teachers talk of “high expectations”, you feel it crush you a little bit every time your friends tease you about your genuine fear that you might not get an A, that you might lose it all, that your “gifts” could disappear and you’ll be stranded and useless and you put in the hours, you work your ass off to keep that high standard, all in the hope of having that one miraculous class that never comes.

I realized that that class would never come when I entered university.

University, I’d told myself, would be my Arcadia, my Eden, my academic paradise where all my hard work would be rewarded!
Instead, I only found more drudgery, more incompetent professors, more disinterested students and even more bureacracy. To say that I was “disappointed” would be putting it very lightly.

I became disoriented and disenchanted. I realized that I could get through most classes with half-assed effort, I was hardly ever challenged, I floated along and hated every second of it. I blamed my boring teachers, the imperfect system, the teachers who had given me hope only for me to watch it crash and go up in flames.

What do you think you’re doing?

Being badass, cool and detached, most likely.

You dream of yourself as a master and your subjects as slaves. They bow to your will, they dance to your tune, you command them with the snap of a finger.

“Look, you slave of the system”, you say, lying on a velvet sofa, “Look, at how it hardly takes any effort for me to pass these classes! Look at how I spend my time doing things I actually like and that are actually worth it, unlike these stupidly easy classes taught by stupidly incompetent professors in a stupidly screwed-up system! Look at me, being edgy and drowning in self-hatred because I can physically feel myself gliding off the rails that made me so “special” and becoming one of the average people in the masses, haha. Ha. Ha. Screw academia, but still give me good grades, amirite?”

I know your delusion. I’ve been there. You imagine yourself to be that one perfect friend that never studies for classes, comes for three lectures per semester and still manages to get perfect grades because everything you do in school is, like, so five years ago. That one friend who has read all the classics in their spare time, has conquered and enslaved all the knowledge actually worth knowing, will quote obscure Polish philosophers you’ve never heard of and plays the piano with a perfect pitch. They’re the wisest, most culture-non-conforming people you know - they’ve been up until 5am, wandering the streets and drinking vodka from a bottle while forcefully pentrating the mysteries of the universe all by themselves until they finally fall asleep on a park bench and awake with an epiphany about Klein bottles.
They’re “special”.

What are you actually doing?

Caring more about appearing “special” than actually trying to be “special”, that’s what you’re doing.

But, look, what made you so “special” and “different” in the first place was not a “calling” or “gifts” or the fact that you wrote good grades and were destined for greatness.

Here’s a handy chart I’ll use later - you were lucky enough to fall into the green zone, lucky enough to be born with an innate respect and a love for learning. That’s what made you “special”. That’s what made you succeed. Not pressure, not warped ideals and certainly not the fear of failure.


But somewhere along the way you forgot that and only focussed on the results. You started to believe yourself to be so special that everybody else should cater to you.
The fancy titles, the awe-struck looks, the “You’re so amazing”s and the “The genius of a decade”, the planned Nobel prize speech and the prestige, the dream others had lovingly created for you and you had slowly absorbed and warped as your own? It got to you. Hell, it got to me.
And it became more important than learning itself.
Somewhere along the way, you and I, we became an arrogant and lazy assholes.

You looked down on your easy courses and homework and instead of recognising how lucky you are, doing it in a minute and a half and then putting in the extra work on top to dig deeper and to maybe contribute something of value and fun, you threw it aside with a snide remark as beneath you.
Of course it wasn’t fun. Of course it wasn’t challenging. You never even tried to make it either.

(And don’t get me wrong: I honestly do think that the education system as it is right now needs MAJOR reforms. But right now? It is what it is. And instead of making the best of it and doing what you once loved so much, you succumbed to societal pressures you found yourself unable to fulfill and said “meh”.
You cared so much about the fame and the title that the relationship itself didn’t matter.)

But this isn’t the master-slave relationship you imagine it to be.
It’s a trophy-friendship. Once upon a time, you got on really well with this person and other people loved your friendship. You fell in love with the ideal, with their connections, their money, their prestige, their name on a CV, and you stuck around just for that.
You valiantly ignore the reality of the state of things between you two
and take them out only when absolutely needed, only when things are this close to falling apart and so you keep walking a fine, fine line.
Whenever a deadline approaches, you shower them with attention and love and, gingerly, they open up to you and you see a depth and complexity to them that astounds you and makes you think “Imagine! Imagine how much more I could have seen if only I’d started earlier?”
But the moment the crisis has passed, you toss them aside once again.

Because this is enough to make your name.
You may not remember much about these nights or about the person at all, but the only thing that counts is that it will fulfill your “special” prophecy and make you a legend, right?

Well, always remember this:
(read picture from right to left)

You’re not “special” if you made it to university. You’re not “special” if you’ve made your name. 
It comes down to a simple choice: do you value appearances over integrity or the other way round? Do you dare to look like a fumbling idiot again when you start something new? Is the “appearing like an idiot”-part more important to you than the “learning/creating something new”-part? 
Have a think about it.

3) Worship

“Alright”, you’ll say, “Alright. I get it. So I’ll treat my “friends”/subjects with respect and integrity and I’ll take all the time and concentration I can bestow upon them, just as I would upon real friends. But do you want me to be like, uh - like…

What is it?

“…like one of those anime characters that lives only for their dream and gets up at like 6am, does the thing, talks about the thing, breathes the thing, goes to bed, dreams of the thing and then wakes up at 6am to do the thing?”

(Google: Did you mean Hinata Shouyou?

Yes, yes, I did, google.)

Well, no, I don’t want you to do that. See, that’s the other extreme and unless you’re an anime character, chances are that it won’t work out for you. 

How did you get here?

Personally, I was caught in this trap for a loooooong time. Anime offered me a new way of relating to my passions that neither my family nor my school had ever shown me: unabashed obsession.
I wanted to be perfect. I wanted to be obsessed. I wanted to give myself up to a higher ideal, something above human consciousness, something that would endure. I wanted to, well, get up at 6am, do the thing, talk about the thing, breathe the thing and so on - “the thing” in question being, of course, studying. I made elaborate plans, complicated lists, study-plans that shift on a daily basis and cover all grounds, I wanted to study for two hours before school, wanted to repeat lessons, wanted to give myself up to knowledge, made cool covers for my notebooks, made mock exams for my friends to use, planned to focus on each continent for a month and study it, planned to listen to one new composer each day, planned to go to the museum every week, planned to analyze Sherlock Holmes and think just like him, planned to - you get the idea.

I wanted to be like this:

What do you think you’re doing?

Being but a humble servant to the eternal workings of truth. Knowing thou art unworthy, yet suffering the perfection of study.

I wanted to go from 0 to 100, I wanted knowledge and wisdom to transform and deliver me, I wanted to feel enlightened, I wanted to feel my brain burning, pushing frontiers and breaking through to new horizons, I wanted to elevate myself to touch even the lowest levels of truth.
I wanted to do something noble, something worthwhile, something that could never be critisized and would always be valued, something with eternal meaning that would echo through the ages and I wanted to be even the tiniest cog in the machinery of mind.

What are you actually doing?

Being, quite simply, an idiot.

This is one of my favourite quotes (David Wong):

“There are two ways to dehumanize someone: by dismissing them, and by idolizing them.” 

The same goes for studying. As shown above, studying won’t work out if you do not treat your subjects with respect. Conversely, studying also won’t work if you continue to idolize it as work beyond all work and reproach, as the only true calling, as the realm of the genii and by self-flagellating yourself and repeating “I’m but a humble servant in your kingdom of reason and will never reach where you are, but will spend all my time trying to reach you.” 

Why? Because by saying “I’ll never reach you or be worthy of you”, you’ve already sealed your fate. Some students (no matter how well they actually perform) are stuck thinking that they are stupid and incapable of doing well. Others think that the trick is in the preparation and they undergo complicated rituals of finding exactly the right study spot, exactly the right study drink, exactly the right study time, etc. in the hope of channeling the connection between their godly subject and themselves, but it never turns out quite as glamorous as they’d hoped (once again, speaking from experience).

This is because you cannot force a true friendship if you think yourself unworthy of it. It will always be worship. 

And why are you worshipping?
Because it takes the pressure right off of you
. This always annoyed me about some of my fellow students. They treated becoming a good student as this miraculous and unlikely event that only happens to the #blessed.
I insisted that “no”, it could be done. “Yes”, it was hard work, but ultimately absolutely doable. But now that I’ve been in their shoes? I understand.
Admitting that you could have done it anytime implies failure on your part for not having done it. By saying “Oh no, it is so very complex and divine and a lowly worm like me could never hope to crawl in its shadows”, you shift the focus away from yourself and onto the thing itself. 

But this is a synthetic, manufactured relationship with a partner that does not even exist. It is, at its heart, a kyaa  ~ I hope senpai notices me! (๑♡⌓♡๑) - kind of relationship. It’s idolizing not a person’s true character, but their appearance, their aesthetic and the values that they represent for you. It’s not really listening to what they’re saying, but warping their words so they fit into your perfect idea of them.
Just, unlike with undereage debasement, you do not play pretend that everything’s fine and secretly hate the other person deep down - you honestly idolize them to heaven and back, so you could never possible reach them.
You’re using them to fill in the holes in your own personality.

And that … just isn’t fun? I dunno about you, but treating studying as something that must be done perfectly with exactly the right pen and the perfect face-mask after the right smoothie and in the right lighting by a window overgrown with ivy and with perfect concentration from the first moment and unwavering, knightly passion and exact planning from 6am to bedtime all because I know deep down that I will not be able to fulfill these ideals and thus don’t have to feel bad about not reaching them just … isn’t for me. I don’t like my relationships to be all overstructured and “perfect” and high maintenance like that.

I want my friendships and my studying to be authentic. And that means that sometimes it’s messy and sometimes it’s hard and sometimes it’s quoting Keats while lying on the floor at 2am in the morning and chugging milk out of a carton, but it’s real.
I truly do understand this longing to make studying look pretty and like a magical realm, because when you’re in the flow that’s really what it feels like. But the beauty comes along with the practice, not the other way round.

No, but honestly - what do I DO then?


Y’remember Hippogriffs from Harry Potter? That’s how I imagine my subjects. Approach them carefully, honestly, maintaining eye contact and as equals and they will respect you. This scene:

This scene is what I’m talking about. 
If you were in a worship-state, you would only admire them from afar, gushing over how beautiful they are, but sad that they would never deign to even look in your general direction. (think of all the subjects you thought would be way too difficult for you)
If you were in a debasement-state, you’d either try to make friends with all the hippogriffs, hopping from one to the other and forming no bond with either or you’d “tsk” disdainfully and try to force them to obey you against their will. (*cough* Malfoy *cough*)

If, however, you’re in the green, there will be mutual respect between you and you will be able to fly.

So what does it mean to be in the green? 
It means not to do any of the above, obviously, so 

  • take your time for and invest brainpower into each and every one of your subjects - be a good friend. Be there. Listen. Even if they have crazy ideas at 4am in the morning. 
  • appreciate your subjects and know that they are more than the teacher who tries to get you to know them. Sometimes, some people just have a really shitty PR department (especially maths)
  • don’t think too much or too little of yourself. You can do amazing things, but that does not give you the license not to do amazing things anymore, rest on your laurels and expect others to applaud you for it. 

  • some relationships take longer than others to build, but getting to understand someone who puzzled you from the first moment and challenged your beliefs will improve your own personality as well
    (side-eye at PE. Yes, I love you now, you crazy athletic bastard)
  • do it for the sake of the relationship itself, because you enjoy their company. Results are presents which, although very much appreciated, should not be the main motivator to keep you going.
    This essentially means that you should think of studying as hanging out with a friend - already makes it seem so much more inviting and way less daunting, does it not?

    (Logic and I, being saltmates. Real friends judge other people together)
  • be aware that all friendships go through rocky patches and some subjects might take a while to warm up to you or you to them. But if you think that it’s worth it, then you gotta power through that. If you don’t think it’s worth it, you gotta be brave enough to say good-bye. 


Look, what I’m actually saying is … be Souma Yukihira from Food Wars.

Food Wars is a crazy and at times pretty pervy manga/anime, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t also one of the best pieces of fiction I’ve ever consumed and if Souma isn’t one of the most admirable main characters I’ve ever encountered.  

The relationship between him and cooking is filled with trust, love and equality. He trusts his cooking skills, because he knows that they have spent a long time together - cooking won’t let him down and he won’t ever let cooking down by stopping to look for ways to improve.

That doesn’t mean, however, that he’s always deadly serious - he loves to play around with cooking and to try ridiculous new things. He never forgets the joy that even the simplest form of cooking brings him. 

There’s one great episode where he puts his life as a chef on the line and someone fearfully asks him what he’d do if he lost. He shrugs and says he could become a lawyer or a teacher or something. So while he loves cooking profoundly, he does not worship it and he knows that there are other relationships he could build up if he had to. He just …doesn’t want to, because cooking is his bff. 

He loves to take on challenges to see how far he and cooking have come -

- and he takes challenges very seriously -


- but takes it even more seriously if he loses -

- and nonetheless knows that they are stronger for the challenges they have faced together. 

So, yes, this is what it means to be in the green. Cherish your friendships, hang out together, be honest, funny, clever, curious and you. 

You’ll be surprised at how much fun the two of you will have, now that all the pretensions and pressures are gone. 

Just …hang out and have fun.

(and maybe watch Food Wars!, because damn, Souma is the MVP of my inspirational heroes)

Have a great day and I’ll see you in the next (and hopefully shorter) part 4 :)

MC Falls Asleep

MC is tired and falls asleep on the RFA + V and Saeran, I hope you like and sorry for being gone.

Zen

  • You guys were in a park, walking around and looking at all the animals that were just coming out of their hideouts and hibernation.
  • It was so cute, but Zen was staring more at you than the little squirrels and robins
  • Eventually you find your way to a park bench to watch the ducks coming back
  • The sound of the water fountain, the ducks splashing around and looking for food, it’s all so calming
  • And Zen’s shoulder is so soft…and warm….and…..
  • Boom asleep!
  • Zen of course notices almost immediately
  • Unfortunately it’s a good three block walk to the apartment
  • Fortunately  there aren’t a lot of people there
  • Zen strokes your hair a bit, and eventually kisses you on the forehead
  • You wake up in his arms, and smile brightly at him
  • He feels his heart swell
  • You being here with him, smiling at him in that special way and looking only at him when he doesn’t even feel like he deserves it
  • He gives you a huge hug, and begin to walk home for another round of cuddling

Yoosung

  • Okay, he just stopped
  • You were adamant on staying up late while he was playing LOLOL
  • Snuggling up next to him
  • He was fighting a major boss with his team, and honestly didn’t notice you nodding off
  • Eventually your head hit the middle of his chest, and to the tune of his heartbeat you fell asleep
  • He finally gave up the game at about two o’clock in the morning
  • And he felt so lucky
  • You were there, you trusted him enough to fall asleep on him, to allow him to see you when you’re your most calm and peaceful
  • He wants to cry
  • Instead he scoops you up, pressing you against his chest, and take you to the bedroom, happy to be you knight in shining armor for once
  • Even if you are asleep T_T

Jaehee

  • You guys decide to go to a late night movie
  • After much debating you guys decided to allow your inner child to win and agree on Moana
  • It’s around 23 PM so you are dead tired
  • You try to stay awake, you were so excited to go see this
  • But about halfway through, at a soft point in the movie, you accept defeat and drift off to sleep
  • Unfortunately you flop right onto Jaehee’s lap
  • There’s no way she doesn’t notice
  • She tries to continue watching the movie, so she can tell you what happens
  • But eventually her attention wanders from Moana, as much as it’s a great movie, to the person asleep on her lap
  • Strokes your hair, kisses your face softly
  • Even if movie night didn’t go as planned it was still good for both of you

Jumin

  • You guys were going to a party and boy was it long!
  • You were fighting sleep through the social interactions you had to participate in
  • It was a long and hard battle
  • You eventually down a cup of coffee with a high sugar quantity
  • And proceed to fight the coffee buzz that you now also have to regulate
  • Eventually you give up and hang around in the corner, mumbling random things in the haze of coffee and fatigue
  • Eventually Jumin gets the idea of how tired you are and asks if you want to go home, it’s almost done anyway
  • You happily agree and he says goodbye to a few friends before you guys get into the car and go back home
  • On the way in the car you mumble more random things, leaning against the frame of the car
  • “Jumin, I, I love you, I’m tired…. Elly… so cute.”
  • He just kinda snorts, smiling at you softly
  • You managed to get out the car and into the apartment
  • But while Jumin’s petting Elizabeth you slump onto his shoulder
  • You’re just kinda dead by now
  • And unfortunately you’re in a really awkward position and Jumin can’t move with Elizabeth on his lap
  • So he just falls asleep there
  • Probably a bit grumbly in the morning, but he doesn’t really mind that much
  • But the crick in his back is killing him, so he goes to take a bath
  • And when he’s done there’s cat-shaped pancakes waiting for him!

Saeyoung

  • You guys were binge watching old movies
  • Who knew Saeyoung was obsessed with old American 50s films like “Singing in the Rain”?
  • It the scene right after Gene Kelly dances around in the rain, almost getting in trouble with the police
  • And the sound of rain in the tv, the humming of the song
  • It’s the perfect setting to take a nap
  • You’re pressed against Saeyoung’s chest, and the steady heartbeat in his chest is relaxing
  • You’re happy for the constant company of him, and the way you two are so trusting in each other
  • You keep thinking these thoughts of happiness and contentment, and slowly nod off to the troubles of Debbie Reynolds and Jean Hagen
  • Saeyoung was focused on the movie, but when he feels your breathing slow down he looks down and sees you smiling softly, in a shallow sleep
  • He knows that it’ll be easy to wake you up, so he puts the volume down a bit lower, and strokes your hair
  • The movie eventually ends, and he turns off the television, and carries you two bed
  • It was a peaceful night

V

  • He ended up having the surgery
  • And you were staying up all night waiting for him
  • He returned to the hospital room he was going to stay in for at least 24 hours after, and you were still waiting there, fighting sleep
  • You smile softly, his eyes are bandaged as part of the treatment, so you help lead him to the bed and lay down
  • You talk softly about a bunch of different things, about nature, and skies, and stories that you make up in your head
  • But slowly your voice slows down and you begin to forget your stories
  • Eventually you nod off on his lap
  • He feels the sudden weight and hears the flop of the bedsheets
  • Smiles happily and strokes your hair slightly
  • Is excited to regain sight so he can see your peaceful face
Saeran
  • It took you two forever and a million years to have any sort of intimacy
  • When you guys slept in the same bed it was back to back, opposite side of bed
  • So when he asks to go out for ice cream with you and then go see some animals at a shelter you want to scream with happiness
  • It’s an amazing date, and seeing Saeran smile over ice cream, and sww over animals happily your heart just melts
  • He also holds your hand and arm throughout the whole things which makes you want to cry
  • But fatigue catches up to you, and you almost fall asleep in the middle of a bunch of wriggling puppies
  • But you keep up your spirits, because it’s definitely worth it
  • The date ends up being longer than planned, because when you get to your apartment Saeran remembers that he wants to watch some Game of Thrones so you watch about five episodes
  • You go to get some food for you both that’s not ice cream
  • It ends up being some chicken and soup
  • He’s wrapped up like a burrito and doesn’t want to get out
  • “Saeran I swear to god you have to eat something!!”
  • “No, I’m comfy!”
  • “Then, then, I-I’LL FEED YOU IF I HAVE TO, EAT SOMETHING!!!!”
  • He gets really red in the face, but refuses
  • After some bickering you get too tired
  • You put the food on the counter and sit down next to him again, defeated
  • Listening to Game of Thrones, leaning on a fuzzy blanket person, you feel yourself drifting off
  • Eventually you fall asleep
  • Saeran notices, and he immediately blushes heavily
  • But slowly wriggles his way out of his blanket fortress to carry you to bed
  • For the first time he sleeps holding onto you
  • It was a great day

Hope you like!! I have a request I’m working on, but I wanted to post this before I forgot about it!! I’ll have the request posted either in a few hours, or tomorrow, I promise!

So if you were the one who submitted it don’t despair I got it!!

anonymous asked:

What would the chocobros do if their crush called them in the middle of the night saying that they were missing them and just wanted to hear their voice? (needing fluff in my life :3)

So cute! I can definitely relate nonnie, we all need a bit of fluffiness! I hope this suits your fluffy needs ☺

Noctis:

- This boy as we all know, is one hell of a heavy sleeper.
- His s/o would have to ring more than once. Or twice. Maybe even three times.
- Finally Noctis rouses from his sleep in the middle of the night, his hair an absolute mess and his eyes still pretty much shut.
- His hands would be groping all over his bed and nightstand trying to find his phone. Where did he put it?
- And who the heck would call him at this ungodly hour?
- At last his hands close around his phone and he answers it, groggy as fuck.
- “Uh…what?”
- His eyes suddenly snap open as he hears who it is on the other side of the phone!
- He would sit up in bed properly, suddenly really eager to hear what they have to say.
- “Hey.”
- For some reason he would whisper back to his s/o like they were whispering to him, despite the fact that no one would actually be able to hear him.
- It makes it feel more secret and intimate.
- “Are you okay?” worry wart.
- “Yeah I just… I’m missing you right now.”
- His grip would tighten on the phone and his heart would pick up in speed at the hushed voice on the other end of the phone.
- How can they sound so cute through a god damn phone?
- “You are?” Heart rate is actually getting faster.
- This boy is wide awake now!
- “Yeah, I wanted to hear your voice.”
- Que his stomach turning somersaults. He is usually terrible at phone calls, but his lover’s voice was just so sweet, quietly telling him how much they missed him that he just had to say something.
- C’mon Noctis.
- “Is… is this working for you?” Gulp.
- “Absolutely, your voice is so calming Noct.”
- His heart is hammering now. Just say something romantic damn it!
- Blurts it out in a huge hurry.
- “I love you!”
- Instantly hangs up. He can’t believe he just blurted that out!
- PANIC. What the fuck that’s not what I meant by romantic! What if it’s too soon?
- Yep, he was still terrible at phone calls.
- His phone buzzes with a text; ‘I love you too.’
- Instant relief, followed by a rush. They had said it back. He can’t help but smile at his phone.
- Falls asleep with it in his hand, clutched to his chest.

Prompto:

- Prompto picks up almost straight away, he was actually just on his phone at that time playing some King’s Knight.
- He sees the caller ID and is instantly happy.
- “Hey!” Even in the middle of the night this boy is so happy to talk to his s/o he’s all energetic.
- “Hey Prom, are you okay to chat?”
- “Of course, I always am for you.”
- He listens as his s/o tells him how they woke up from a nightmare, and they wanted to call because they were really missing having him around. When they spent the night together he would always pull them in a tight hug if they had nightmares.
- Prompto would feel bad, wishing so hard that he could be there with his lover right then and there. He’d want nothing more to make them feel better.
- He would tell his s/o what he would be doing if he could, picturing it in his own head.
- “If I was there, I would wrap you in my arms and hold you so tight. I’d run my fingers through your hair in that way that you like, trace patterns on your back with my fingertips, kiss your forehead…”
- He would do his best to calm his s/o, and would go over everything he usually does for them before they go to sleep.
- He wouldn’t put the phone down until he knew that they were going to go back to sleep, and would stay talking to his lover for hours.
- Half way through their chat his s/o would stop talking and ask “Prom, what are you doing?”
- “Huh? What do you mean?”
- “I heard a noise…”
- “It’s nothing!” And he would launch straight back into describing what he would do with as much detail as he could.
- His s/o would forget about the noise after a while, and return to the conversation until-
- There’s a knock on their front door.
- “Uh… Prom, is that-”
- “Hurry up and open the door, it’s freezing out here!”
- They’d open the door and there he would be, smiling his cute smile, looking slightly red in the face from his speed walking.
-“So that noise…”
- “Yep, it was me walking, though I really tried to be quiet! Surprise! …. Now let me in it’s cold.”
- He would then proceed to do exactly as he had described only ten minutes earlier, starting with the biggest hug where he would bury his face into the crook of their neck.

Gladiolus:

- Gladio would roll over at the sound of his phone ringing, probably not fully asleep himself yet.
- Like Prompto he would be able to see who is calling and answer in his deep but happy voice to his lover.
- “Hey, what are you still doing up?” Already he would have the biggest cheeky smile on his face, one arm behind his head while the other pressed his phone to his ear.
- “I woke up a bit early.”
- “I’ll say.”
- “And I wanted to call because… because I’ve been missing you a lot lately.”
- There’d be a quiet intake of breath as he listened to their words, knowing that he felt the same.
- He would also feel quite bad, knowing how demanding of his time his job was as shield to the prince. The quiet sound of his s/o’s words would make him feel worse.
- “I’m sorry baby, I’m missing you too.”
- He would use his pet names for them a lot, as he usually does when he feels guilty.
- “But you can have me for as long as you’d like right now.”
- He’d settle himself out on the bed comfortably, closing his eyes and relaxing, listening to everything his partner wanted to say.
- His deep voice would be so comforting to his s/o, after not hearing it in person for a while it would sound so delicious pouring into their ear.
- The call would be such a huge comfort to him as well, after the weeks of rushing around fighting and protecting Noct, he relished this time with his s/o and how the night seemed to make it more relaxed, as if time was at a stand still.
- Hearing them talk would just fill his heart, and he resolved to find sometime very soon to set aside a day where he could just devote himself to his s/o.
- He told them this, as if speaking it aloud made it all the more binding. He’d love hearing how happy his s/o would sound at the prospect.
- Gladio would go on to describe what they would do for their date, and how he would hold their hand all the time unless they had to let go of each other, and how he’d do as many things as they possibly could to make up for all the time spent apart from each other. Who said the big guy can’t be cutesy!
- They would both spend the next few hours talking about their date and what to do on it, feeling like there wasn’t any space between them at all at that particular moment.
- Neither would realise how long they had spent talking, or that the sun was actually beginning to rise.
- But neither would care, they both just needed to spend that time together. Gladio would face the day feeling a lot happier than usual!

Ignis:

- Ignis is only a light sleeper, so he would wake up instantly at hearing his phone vibrate on his bedside table.
- Without his glasses (and after just waking up) he wouldn’t be able to see the caller ID with him being far sighted.*
- Sighing, he’d answer it assuming it was Noctis needing something.
- He would be very pleasantly surprised to hear the voice of his lover on the other end, and his heart would give an excited flutter.
- Of course he would worry straight away that something was wrong.
- “Are you alright my love?”
- “I’m fine, I just can’t really sleep.”
- Like Noct, he’d sit up and put his glasses on so his s/o could have his full attention.
- “I’ll stay up with you then.” And he’d do just that.
- His voice would be so soft and smooth and silky down the receiver.
- His s/o would tell him this, and he’d pause with a pleasant shock.
- “Thank you, I’ll talk with you for as long as you want me to.”
- He may sound suave down the phone, but his s/o can’t see the tinge of red showing in his cheeks at their compliment, or the way he runs his fingers through his hair in a cute embarrassment. And they definitely can’t see the sweet little grin he’s hiding in the receiver.  
- Just listening to his lover talk makes him wish they were there with him.
- “I miss you.”
- His heart stutters at their words, loving that they were both feeling the same way.
- “I miss you too, kitten.” And this time he can’t hide his voice that’s thick with emotion.
- Damn it we’re in a proper relationship, we shouldn’t be apart for so long like this. Iggy with his traditional, devoted views would love to spend more time staying over together.
- He instantly makes a resolve to go over the following morning, with some ebony coffee of course.
- “For now though, we should sleep.”
- He would offer to read some of the book he currently had on his nightstand to his s/o to help, and with his soothing voice they would drop off in no time.
- He would read until he heard their soft, sleeping breaths from the other side, and then finally put the phone down smiling fondly.
- He’d be really looking forward to the morning and seeing his lover.

[*This is coming from in the game when he says without his glasses he wouldn’t be able to see Noct’s face, but earlier they said that he doesn’t really need them that much, only to clarify his vision properly. So I reached the conclusion that he must be far sighted, and that when things are close that’s when they blur. I suppose that’s my own headcanon though! :’)]

Writer’s Block 4.1

So I’m taking a different approach to finishing this story. Instead of writing a monster chapter, it’s easier for me to do chunks of it at the moment. I’ll post every 2000 words here, and when it’s complete I’ll post it as one continuous chapter on the archives. Just seems easier for me. Hope you like this one! 4.2 isn’t far behind… Let me know what you think!


Originally posted by couplenotes

What the fuck am I reading? I toss the book aside and try to forget about the alien species commingling with human women as they take over the world with their disappearing magic lube, never-ending sexual appetite and nanocytes that heal the bruises they leave behind from their love-making. If it can be called that.

None of that garbage is going to help me write the next scene. The scene. The one I have zero experience with. Every time I sit down to write it I get nervous and edgy. But I need something written down that at least Peeta can make changes to. He won’t be much help to me this week since he’s busy finishing up an art project that’s due at the same time. I told him not to worry, that I would wrap things up on this end so he could focus elsewhere.

Keep reading

took a nap and then suddenly remembered to erikar (◡‿◡) 

It’s different when it’s someone you love.

I just had the best and most terrible weekend all rolled into one. I’ll preface by saying that this was the first time I’ve had two days off in a row in 6 months. I have literally been looking forward to this weekend for the past two months. I like to work, but I was on the verge of loosing it on some poor unsuspecting soul. For my two days I decided to suck it up and make the 7 hour trip north to visit my mother and the rest of my family who live in the middle of nowhere. I had a great visit. We went hiking, I got to see the baby cows (four of them!), and most importantly I got to sleep in!!! Apart from being mothers day it was also my step-dads 50th birthday so we had a huge party planned. This is where things kind of fall apart.

Then there was a scream.

Someone pulled me away from my conversation. I turned and saw my uncle lying on the ground. One of my aunts was already next to him. His breathing was agonal. His face was cyanotic. My aunt checked the pulse and shouted to me that there wasn’t one. I checked the carotid and the radial.

Nothing.

I started compression’s. Shit. I started counting. “1,2,3….”

I could hear his wife screaming in the background. Someone else was crying. Someone else shouted to call 911, I could hear them on the phone talking.

“29, 30…two breaths!” I hear myself shout. I saw my aunt grimace a little before bending over to breathe life into her brother-in-law. Continue compression’s.

We live in the middle of nowhere. It is two hours to the nearest “big” city. Forty minutes to the nearest hospital. The volunteer fire department is three miles away but it will take longer for them to get to the department than to get to the house.

“28, 29, 30…two breaths!” I’m on my second round of compression’s. Shit, shit, shit. Hard and fast I tell myself taking a moment to appreciate the craziness of the situation.

Third round of compression’s. I can feel my arms start to burn. I’m going to need to switch out at the pulse check. My uncle is not small. I shout for my mother to take over at the pulse check.

Fourth round, “29, 30… pulse check.”

There’s a pulse.

We don’t roll him to the recovery position. He’s fallen four feet off of a bar stool onto his head. We hold c-spine. We wait. I try to piece together what happened. Someone notes that he was unconscious before he hit ground.

It’s ten minutes before the ambulance crew gets there and miraculously he’s starting to wake up. Crazy. Waking up. Waking up!!!!

I relay what was done and then stand up to let them work. I find that I’m shaking so bad that I have to sit down. One of my great-uncles who in his day was a volunteer EMT pulls me to the side. He then proceeds to reprimand me for doing CPR. I ignore him as they load my uncle into the ambulance. My great-uncle gets in with him. They’re all buddies.

They take him to the nearest ER. I wait with everyone else. He’s awake, he’s stable! The ER doctor wants to know what happened. I tell him. It turns out that NONE of the EMS providers told the physician that compression’s were performed. They transfer him to the bigger hospital.

My uncle is okay. He’s awake and he’s ALIVE!!!!!

I didn’t think much about what my great-uncle said but now I can’t stop replaying it in my head. Should I have done compression’s. Did I miss a pulse? Did we both miss it? Did we cause more harm than good? He’s alive you say, why does it matter? I keep seeing his face when I close my eyes. It’s blue and he’s gurgling. Yes, I did the right thing. But, that certainly doesn’t seem to be enough to stop me from thinking about it. It’s playing like video in my head on repeat. I can’t make it stop. I want it to go away.

It’s different when it’s someone you love.

Deduction.

Ignis is undergoing psychological training to further prepare him for the role of chief analyst and right hand to future King Noctis. This is very different from anything I’ve shared with you all! I honestly don’t know where it came from, I was reading another fic (who I’ll tag in a moment) stopped mid sentence- and feverishly began writing this. I hope you enjoy….? *gulps

TLDR; DAD HAS A HARD TIME OKAY ;A;

 TW: Mental torture (?) Thriller. 

 Today he was in his parents’ house. The house where he’d grown up in Insomnia. His mother and father were both aging beautifully, and they welcomed him with open arms, beaming with pride at their son. 

“I’m making your favorite, my dear!”, his mom said in her usual chipper tone. “Mother,” Ignis began to protest, yet knowing all the wiser. “All these years of making me things, why not let me make you something for a change, hm?” “Where do you think you got the love of cooking from young man” she playfully retorted.

 “Yeah, let the woman alone!” his father chimed in, cracking a smile. 

 His parents. The only people he’d humor enough to let take care of him even for an instant. He did it mostly out of respect. He wouldn’t dare put up a real fight with his mother (she’d raised him better than that). 

“Father”, he nodded, finally being able to greet him while his mother was in the kitchen, humming to herself as she prepped the kitchen. 

“Come sit with me, my boy”. He gestured to the seat next to him on the couch, his words, full of warmth. Ignis joined him, his chest tightening, swelling with love for the man he hoped to be half as great as one day. His father took his hand, simply beaming at his boy, and the man he’d become. It was softer than Ignis had remembered, his grasp lightened with age. 

“Ignis, i’m so very prou- 

 *BAM*

 Ignis’ heart shot out of his chest, the following scream he heard could only be that of his mother. He whipped his head around to reveal that she was trapped under part of the roof that’d come crashing down in the explosion. Shots rang out from overhead, and flying Niflheim tanks littered the sky. 

“We’re under attack!!” Ignis ran towards his mother who lay on the ground, oven mitt still on her hand. Another shot rung out crashing through the living room when he heard his father shout in agony. He was hit, and was bleeding from the gut. 

 “Ignis, sweetheart!” he heard his mom pleaded with him to help her. 

“I-ignis…” his father managed to mumble, blood spurting from his lips. After a moment’s hesitation, the cinematics slowed around him, waiting for him, allowing him time to make his choice. 

“I- I…” he looked down at his mother cradled in his arms. 

“STASIS”, he yelled. A wreck, and shaking. His mother disintegrated in his arms, and the room reset to it’s default of sickly white, with slightly flickering fluorescent lights that only added to the abysmal mood of the room. 

 “Mission objective: f a i l e d”, rang through the room. A different tri-tone voice came over the loud speaker, preceded only by the sound of a button being pressed, followed by a faint crackling silence. 

 “You’ve now exhausted your hault stasis for the month, Mr. Scientia.” 

“I know”, he said. Slumped on the ground where the image of his mother lay dying before him was, not only a minute prior. “I know”, he repeated. This time, defeat hung on his words. Anger building where fear had been, he began to kick himself internally for being too weak, too indecisive, and too slow to complete the mission. That was the third time he’d been unable to complete his Rapid Deduction test. He knew he needed work in this area. Hostage Negotiations VR had been relatively smooth, and gone without a hitch. Same goes for Strategic Planning VR, but his Rapid Deduction reasoning brought him to his knees every time. 

How was he to know which life he should save? His mother or his father. Who thinks about that kind of thing? Except, he knew the answer. It was him. He was expected to think of these things, to test him, and his mind. To make life changing decisions at a moment’s notice. 

 “That’s…enough, for one day” he finally said, bringing himself up to his feet. He heard the sssshhhhss sound of the air tight lock release on the sliding doors, and he left the virtual reality room without a second glance back. Tomorrow would be another day. Who knows what the scenario would be, but tomorrow, he’d be ready. 

Sometimes he wished his strength lie in the physical realm like Gladio. He has it so much easier. Physical labor- he’d take that any day, over his plot. Lift 1,000 lbs total, a day? Sure. Anything to escape an instant of the mental torture he’s put through. Similar to physical strength, he knows mental strength builds over time. “It’ll come”, he whispers to himself, walking to his car getting ready to drive home. “But i’m going to have to increase my stamina, and to do that i’ll need to be alert, awake, and at pique functioning capacity”.

 The next morning, he set out for his usual coffee place. “Ah, Mr. Scientia! Room for cream and sugar? Same as always?” chirped the cute barrister, brown ponytail bobbing.

 He paused, deep in thought.

 “Just black- thank you”

 “Ohh, something new today, I see?” she giggled. “Alright-one ebony it is! You betchya- coming right up sir” and she bounced away to prepare his cup to go.

 ***

 The tri-tone voice came over the intercom again (if he ever found out which of the Kingsguard was behind the two way glass..he’d..he’d…. )

He was never able to really finish the thought, seeing as he couldn’t really do anything to the Kingsguard, but if he could..it woulda been something bad.

 “Shall we begin again, Mr. Scientia” the familiar tri-tone voice rung out through the intercom, filling the VR room. Ignis met the voice with silence.

Click.

 “Shall we begin again, Mr. Scientia.”

A bead of sweat dripped from his forehead, and landed on the ground. How long had he been watching his loved ones die at this point. Three? Four? Five hours? 

Click.

 The press of the button filled the room, followed by the predictable crackling white noise, and the tri tone voice once more.

“Shall we begin again Mr. Scientia.” Ignis exhaled sharply through his nose, his hair clinging to his forehead, matted with sweat. His shirt, soaked through, revealing the muscles of his lean torso, and his heaving chest.

 “Yes.” 

Noctis had been knocked unconscious. Gladio’s pelvis had been crushed by the red giant and he was now bleeding out from the massive wound. If Ignis could just get him the high elixer in time…but Prompto can’t survive against the giant foe for long on his own. He’s wasted too much time in thought. 

“Mission: F A I L E D”

 There had to be a way to save them both. There had to be. What was he missing, what clue was he missing. He knows he needs to move faster. No- think faster. Each time he tries to save them both he’s met with the same outcome. 

 “Mission: F A I L E D”

 Hot tears begin to cloud his vision, his eyes, feral, darting from one friend to the other. Wetness leaves his eyes having to watch his friends cry out for his aid and die over, and over. This simulation…it was becoming too much for him. He felt his mind begin to seer, and bubble underneath his skull.

 “I CAN’T”, his eyes going wild behind his glasses. “You bastards. I know you can hear me!”, demanding that someone from behind the double glass, covered by the running simulation have mercy on him.

 “Someone” he pleads. 

 Click. The tri-tone voice came over the intercom. 

 “Again.”

 Mustering all the composure he had, and speaking through gritted teeth, eyes fixed on the floor “If…I could only have a glass of wat-”

 “Shall we begin again, Mr.Scientia” the tri- tone voice rang out once more. He wished desperately he’d not used all his halt stasis for the month. Gods, did he need them now. A soft “yes” managed to escape his lips. The words heavy with defeat did not carry far, and were almost immediately lost to the vast space of the room. 

Click. “Shall we begin agai-” 

“YES!!” his fists slammed into his legs in a hot fury. “YES. For Gods sake, yes.” Click. “Composure, Mr Scientia” the trill tone voice rings out, monotonously. 

Ignis, takes his glasses off and rubs the bridge of his nose, clenching his jaw together. He unbuttons his shirt, sweat pooling in the nook of his collar bones. “Proceed” he says sternly. A newfound determination, forming within him. He could save Gladio, but would he be happy without his lower body? Would he be able to find new meaning in life, no longer being able to live up to his father’s legacy? His entire family’s legacy? No. Ignis decided, you just can’t be sure. You can’t make decisions by what people might do. To save Gladio would mean leaving Prompto, who was basically a civilian. Not just any civilian. He just so happened to be Noctis’ closest friend. Ignis thought back, his mind racing, deducing, cycling through possibilities and probable outcomes of his actions in his mind’s eye. When Prompto had joined them in training for fun, he’d needed help on ¾ of the missions. That’s a 75% chance that he can’t survive without the assistance of at least one other person. Ignis’ eyes were darting around from Prompto, to Gladio who was in desperate need of that high elixr, back to Prompto, who couldn’t last much longer on his own. How would the King survive without the company if the one person who keeps him grounded? Prompto’s friendship is paramount to Noctis’ mental stability. Amicitia is of nobility though. His family, and his purpose practically bred into his DNA to protect the king, to train him, make him stronger. Gladio is an indispensable resource just with knowledge of combat alone, Ignis thinks. Noctis needs Gladio’s knowledge to be able to protect himself. 

Friends come second to the will of what the burden of the throne commands. 

 “Iggy, man! Prompto’s needs help! Ngh-” Gladio’s eyes rolled back in pain. Ignis turned away from Prompto. 

“I-Iggy? Iggy, buddy! Iggy!” Prom screamed, desperately trying to bring his friend back to his aid. Ignis’ choice marked the point of no return. He could feel his heart, ripping in two while he administered the high elixr to Gladio, only to be met with, “What in the Gods name is wrong with you! I could have handled this pain! Prompto! Ignis-” Gladio yells through his tears, “Prompto is dying!”

Red Giant still at large, Prompto laid on the ground, having suffered a final rib crushing blow to the chest. His eyes glassed over, a vacant expression on his face, mouth slightly parted, a tear falling over his star dusted cheeks and Ignis broke.

 “Objective: c o m p l e t e” rang through the room as it reset to its standard sickly white walls, and flickering fluorescent lights. He’d watched the look of betrayal color his friend’s eyes as they died by his actions a thousand times. A thousand times he’d have to choose what life to save, and when. Calculating who survives and who doesn’t if the time came down to it, and weighing one against the other. 

 Regis or Luna.

 Luna or Noctis.

 Prompto or Luna.

 Gladio or Iris.

 Iris or Prompto.

Time after time he’s met with incomprehensible combinations of loved ones. His heart shredding apart with each simulation. He learned not to show emotional weakness, and keep up his prim and proper image in the presence of others. If he couldn’t keep himself in check, how would he ever be able to keep the affairs of a king in order? Before long, he’s mastering almost any scenario, achieving the best possible outcomes, despite seemingly insurmountable odds. His training served him well throughout his journey with Noctis, Prompto, and Gladio on their way to the wedding in Lestallum. Ignis managed to keep the group alive, through otherwise fatal encounters. “Iggy!”, the prince would say, having exhausted all his resources. “I’ve got just the thing!” he’d reply, coming up with the perfect remedy in the heat of battle to defeat whatever foe blocked their path. During the fall of Leviathian, he’d been tasked with evacuating the citizens as quickly as possible. In the stampede of people rushing through the flood gates, a mother and her three children were making their hasty escape, her arms already already tied with two infants, her 5 year old had no choice but to run by her side. However, the influx of people managed to separate her from her oldest child. What’s worse, is that Niff soldiers were descending on the crowd, and the child found himself face to face with a Magitek trooper in the chaos.

 Ignis protested against his automatic thoughts, that were saying self preservation over the lives of a civilian. No. This is wrong. He thought. This is wrong. He managed to force one leg in front of the other, bursting into a sprint, his nerves on fire in rebellion against his conditioning. Mission failed rang through his mind at a maddening pace growing louder in his mind the closer he got to the child, when soon his mind’s voice was screaming MISSION FAILED. He didn’t care, this wasn’t a VR mission. This was real life. 

He pushed through his thoughts as he pulled the child to safety, he felt the slice of white hot iron to eyes. He’d been struck. 

 “Thank you! Thank the gods for you!” the mother managed through her sobs, clinging to her child. “Thank the gods for you! Thank the gods for you!” she said to Ignis, while littering her son’s face with kisses. His knees gave way, and he was taken under by the searing pain as his body met the blackness of the asphalt. 

His final thought before succumbing to the pain- objective complete.

Glory


A/N: *Emerges from my cave and months of inactivity* Hey guys. I watched the new music video. so uh… yeah. Enjoy!


“Can I tell you a story?”

You snuggle closer to Dan, smiling at his words. “Of course you can.” You grab the bottle of liquor from him, taking a swig. The liquid burns down your throat, but you relish in the warmth that pools through you.

Dan looks up to the sky, a small smile on his face. “Once upon a time, there was a sweet, innocent boy, and a beautiful, incredible girl.”

You snort in derision. “There’s hardly anything innocent about that boy.”

A dark bar, the air heavy with the scent of old cigars, sweat, old love, lost love, new love. The strands of your pink wig whirl around as you laugh and dance, almost oblivious to the sudden disappearance of your car keys.

Almost.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the thief in the act as he swipes your keys from your table and hurries off outside. Eyes widening in panic and anger, you abandon your partner and wind through the bodies of people to run outside. 

“Hey!” The stranger stops in his tracks. “I saw what you did, bastard. Give them back, now.”

The stranger turns around, and you’re confronted with a lanky man with high cheekbones, wild, dark hair, a somewhat bashful grin, and the darkest, bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. They seem to pierce right through you.

“Oh, these are yours?” He gives an unconvincing laugh. Your scowl deepens, though you take note of the obviously British accent. “Sorry… I was only going to borrow it.” 

You quirk an eyebrow. “Really?” you deadpan, completely unconvinced.

The stranger nods, eyebrows drawing together into a pitiful, earnest look. “My friends and I are racing to see who can get to the Joshua Tree National Park. I… would’ve given it back, promise!”

You know his story is complete bullshit, but you can’t help but smirk all the same. There was something about this guy…

“I’ll drive you there, alright?”

The stranger looks up at you, surprise lighting up in his eyes. “Sorry?”

You cross your arms. Your smirk evens out into a full smile. “I’ll take you to the national park.”

“It’s a ways away.”

“Then let’s road trip. You pay for gas, I get to sleep in the backseat, and we’ll take turns driving. Deal?”

The stranger doesn’t move for a moment, clearly contemplating the plan, before he steps toward you and sticks out his hand. You shake it. 

“Deal.”

I was only going to borrow it…”

You laugh at Dan’s feeble attempt to defend himself.

“… besides, it’s a shit car anyway. Someone was bound to steal it. You’re lucky it was only me.”

You pout, patting the metal hood you and Dan are lying on. “Excuse me, it’s a classic.”

Dan shakes his head, relinquishing the argument to you. “Right.”

You poke his side. “And what happened, on that trip?”

Dan tilts his head, looking up at the inky black sky. “Oh, the boy and girl started off rocky. It was such a split decision, neither one knew how to act.” He intertwines his fingers with yours, gazing down at it reminiscently. “But then, the girl started talking. About her interests, her dreams, her view of the universe. And slowly, yet surely, the boy started to fall in love.”

You feel yourself start to redden, so you roll your eyes and nudge him playfully with your shoulders. “Really though, what fantastical adventures did these kids go on?”

Dan hums. “Well, there was that time the boy jumped into someone else’s pool with his clothes still on…”

The water is still, quiet and, above all else, cold. Your breath fogs up in front of you, a reminder of the childhood days when your imagination transformed you into a fearsome dragon. The stranger – Dan, his name is – tugs on your hand impatiently. “Come on, let’s jump in the water!”

“Dan, you’re still dressed!” Your words are lost behind you as a string of giggles bursts from you. 

Dan looks back with that now-familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “Come on!”

Okay, okay,” you pant out, ripping your hand from his. You look uncertainly at the icy water. “Okay… on the count of three.”

Dan grins and nods. He looks at the water, obviously mentally bracing himself. “One…”

You bend your knees. “Two…”

“Three!” Dan leaps into the water with a yell. The sheet of still water shatters as Dan hits the surface.

Meanwhile, you’re still on dry land, laughing as Dan splutters to the surface, looks around for you, and proceeds to give you the finger when he realises you hadn’t jumped.

You smile fondly at the memory, except…

“It was a lake, not someone’s pool!”

Dan shrugs. “Either way, you lied to me about jumping in together.”

Rather than reply to his accusation, you take another swig of the bottle. “What about that time the guy dared the girl to run through some stranger’s house?”

“I’m getting to that part!” Dan grabs the bottle back indignantly. “Now where was I…”

The car comes to a sudden stop in the middle of a quaint, suburban neighbourhood. You jolt awake from your nap to find the vehicle sitting idle in front of a house. The front door is open, with only the screen door barring the way inside. 

Dan turns to you with a crooked, devilish smile. “I dare you to run through that house.”

You stare back at Dan for a heartbeat before bursting out laughing. “Yeah, sure. Lemme just solicit through and trespass on private property. I might even get lucky and get shot.”

“I’ll drive for the next twelve hours, and I’ll buy you dinner.”

You quirk your brow at that. Now that’s a more intriguing offer. “And I just have to run through, yeah?”

Dan nods.

You tap your chin. “Drop the 12-hour drive, but you have to come with me.”

Dan grins, sticking his hand out. You shake it hard. “Deal.”

You open the door and step out of the car, walking nervously up to the door. A part of you hopes that the handle won’t turn, or that the door would still be locked, but the door opens with ease. You step in, looking cautiously around. You glance back at Dan, beckoning him in before you sprint through the modern-looking house, Dan in tow. You give a squeal when you find two elderly couple on the couch, absolute confusion and panic written all over their faces. 

“Sorry, pardon me!” Dan shouts behind him as you make a beeline for the back door. You hear the old man shout behind you, but you and Dan are already out the door and running back to the front. 

You jump into driver’s seat. “Come on!” 

Dan wrenches the door open the ducks quickly into the passenger side. The wheels squeal loudly as you stomp on the accelerator. The car shoots forward and you glance at the rearview mirror to find the couple running outside. The old man raises his fist angrily at the car, and you and Dan laugh almost maniacally as the adrenaline rushes through you.

And the old man even had a gun!”

You throw your head back in a loud laugh. “What?!”

Dan looks at you with a serious expression, but you can see the mirth in his eyes. “Yeah, that definitely happened. We could’ve died!”

You scoff playfully. “Yeah, sure.” You snuggle closer to Dan, and you feel his arm hug you protectively. “Remember that dance class? You didn’t even want to try…”

Dan’s face, etched in embarrassment, as he looks at the groups of people in the dance studio milling around. “I’m not sure about this.”

You latch on to his arm, smiling encouragingly at him. “I am. And I’m always right.”

Dan rolls his eyes. “Right, I forgot.”

You grin as you pull Dan into the studio. “Come on!”

Dan hum in disagreement. “What are you on about? I totally outdanced you.”

Dan gives his full, toothy smile at you, his eyes practically sparkling despite the relative darkness of the studio. He’s drenched in sweat and his moves are still jerky and awkward, but you lean in to hug him regardless. 

“You were great, Dan,” you tell him. You don’t see his expression, but he gives you an extra squeeze before pulling back. His face has a strange expression on it, but you can’t pin down what it is.

“Thank you.”

“Right, that’s why you’re such a great dancer now.” You laugh as Dan shoves you. Had it not been for his arm, you probably would’ve gone sliding off.

Dan leans his head against yours. “And finally, when the boy and the girl, after so many miles and so many days, reached the national park, the boy revealed his big secret…”

“I actually didn’t have a crazy race with my friends here.”

You roll your eyes, leaning your head on Dan’s shoulders. Both your legs are hung over the edge, swinging carefree over the hundred-foot drop. “I figured when you didn’t even so much as talk about them during the entire trip.” You lift your head to look at Dan. The sunset, with the pink hues, strikes his face and accentuate all of his most special features. The curve of his cheekbones. Each long, sweeping eyelash. The freckles splashed over his nose and below his eyes. A faint breeze ruffles his wild hair. “But tell me. Why did you steal my keys in the first place?”

Dan smiles, looking down at your intertwined fingers. “Well… I wanted to grab your attention. Seeing you dance up on that table, with that bright wig, and those beautiful eyes… I knew I had to grab your attention somehow.”

You laugh, though you can feel yourself blushing. You know the sunset is highlighting your now-rosy cheeks. “That could’ve backfired so hard, though.”

Dan lifts his hand to your face, his thumb trace up and down your cheek as he leans forward. “Maybe, but this has surpassed even my wildest dreams.”

You smile softly back and let your eyes flutter closed. And in that darkness, in that silence, you feel his lips touch yours.

You open your eyes and pull away from Dan’s kiss at a large rumble in the sky. You and Dan look up just in time to see a large jet lift up from the ground. It soars through the air and into the inky night sky.

You snuggle back into Dan’s body. “You tell it differently every time,” you say softly.

Dan returns with his special crooked grin. “Well, I like my version better.”

~~~~~ willyumfarquarson ~~~~~

weak link

Anonymous asked: Shit well now I gotta see that Lance throwing up thing as a fic

Anonymous asked: You should totally write the bit about Lance with the rlly bad stomach bug and the IV and all that ;w;

well, you convinced me. this was supposed to be a short drabble and ended being 6k words so i hope you enjoy

read on ao3


Lance isn’t sure what wakes him at first. His eyes open and he’s staring into the dark, because it’s still night—or what equates to night in the castle’s hours. His music is still playing, too, so what…

In the span of a few quick seconds, it hits him. He’s suddenly very hot—burning—and can’t get out of his blankets fast enough. But as soon as he sits up, nausea creeps into him like searching fingers and wrings his stomach. He leans forward and grits his teeth, feeling sweat bead on his back and forehead. Pressing a hand to his mouth, he takes several deep breaths in through the nose and begs the sudden feeling of sickness to go away.

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Broken Kind of Perfect (Yoongi X Female!reader)

(This is a little glimpse of how I write out ideas to remember for later. Thanks to my bestie for this plot idea.)*smutty smut smut* tag geekynerdiegirlie* jealous* make up sex*

“Yoongi. Come on. You’ve been at the studio all day. Can’t you just come home for a few hours. You need rest and I miss you,” You huff into your cellphone.

“You know I can’t babe. I have work to do. These songs aren’t going to produce themselves,” Yoongi replies.

“You need sleep! My god Yoongi you haven’t been home in a week! A fucking week! For gods sake we live together and I haven’t seen you in a week!”

“It’s always about you. I have a life too. A job.”

“Excuse me!? I’m not making this about me. I’m worried about you. This is unhealthy. You need sleep, you need to relax and take a break. You need to eat an actual meal. Christ you need to worry about yourself for once!”

“Fuck off Y/N.” He snaps and hangs up.

You try calling him back a few times, but then give up. Throwing your phone to the floor you get up with a huff. No way in hell were you going to sit here and wait for some half ass apology from Yoongi that you would accept then two weeks later go through the same shit again. No, this time you’re not going to just sit and wait. Something has to change. Someone has to change. And it sure as hell isn’t you.

You get up and lock the door and head to your bedroom. Yours. Not his. Not ours. Only you. This is your bed. Your nightstand.

¤¤¤¤¤

Knock knock knock knock … BAM BAM BAM.

“What the hell?” You hiss.

“Y/N! Y/N! Fucking hell Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m fucking sorry. Let me in. Please babe. I’m sorry.” You hear Yoongi shout through the door.

You throw yourself out of bed and shuffle to the door where Yoongi is still knocking and pleading.

“Please. I look like an idiot out here.” He whines.

“Good. You better look like a dick-faced idiot who can’t get his shit together. You better look like you made a huge mistake.”

“Babe. I’m seriously sorry. Let me in please.”

“No.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You already said that.”

“But I am.”

“You always say you are. Everytime. Every. Fucking. Time. I’m sick of it.” Then you start to mock him, “I’m so sorry, babe. I love you. Let me in.” You sneer. “Then the next day you’re screaming at me to fuck off and leave you alone.”

“I really am sorry, Y/N. I was just stressed.”

“Then you have a problem because being constantly stressed is a problem.”

“Please just let me in. We can work this out, I promise.”

“No, we can’t.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m done, Yoongi. It’s over. This is over.”

“No, Y/N please. Please I swear I’ll fix it.”

He starts to slam into the door, the whole frame shaking. You jump back as he keeps slamming into it.

“Yoongi stop! Just stop!” You scream but he doesn’t.

You know your neighbors must be awake by now, most likely looking to see what was going on. You finally decide to open the door, sending Yoongi stumbling into the apartment. He falls to the floor and slowly pushes himself up. He grabs onto your shirt as he stumbles and almost falls again. The thing you tend to forget about Yoongi is his ability to pronounce words so well, even after consuming massive amounts of alcohol, his only problem was standing and walking.

“Hands off,” You hiss.

He rolls his eyes and lets go of your shirt. You drag him to the couch and make him sit down. You then go to your room and throw all of his stuff, what little of it there is, into a bag and throw it at him. After that you grab you phone and call Namjoon, who doesn’t answer pissing you off more. Yes it’s two a.m. but you had a drunk ex-boyfriend who you want to murder sitting on your couch staring at your ass like nothing is wrong.

You try calling Jin, who doesn’t pick up the first time, but you try again because you know Jin always has the volume on his phone on incase anybody needs to reach him. The third time you call he picks up.

“This better be important, it’s two in the morning and I’m trying to sleep,” He groans.

“Would I have called you three times if it wasn’t important? Nevermind. I need you to come pick Yoongi up. He’s at my house throwing a tantrum.”

“Why would he-? Why can’t-? Wait. Did something happen between you two?”

“Yes. I’m going to deal with him until morning so I suggest you, or one of the guys, comes to get him.”

“Okay, yeah. I’m coming. Give me a a bit and I’ll get him.”

“Thanks Jin.”

“You’re explaining everything to me tomorrow.”

“Fine. Just get him out of here.”

Jin hangs up and you sit in a chair as far from Yoongi as possible.

“You look cute when you’re mad,” Yoongi tells you with a small laugh.

He sits on the couch wriggling around like he can’t get comfortable. And of course staring at you like you might dissappear.

“No I don’t,” You mumble, mostly to yourself.

“Don’t be like that I’m seriou-”

“No. Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear your crap. The cutesy lovey dovey comments are not going to help. I tell you I care about you and that I want you to be healthy, and you shut me down. You tell me to fuck off and hang up then come home hours later drunk and slamming on my door, begging for me to forgive you. You know what? Fuck you! Fuck you and your stupid games! I’m so sick of this! How many times do I have to say it before you ignolage the fact that I’m fucking done? We are over! And there is no way for you to fix it.”

His eyes glaze over and he stares at you in shock. Even with an alcohol clouded mind everything became clear and you can see it in his face. He reaches his arm toward you only to realize you’re too far away to touch. He doesn’t attempt to say anything. He now realizes it won’t help. No he just sits there with a sad look on his face his eyes pleading for you to take back what you had said. But you’re not going to do that.

¤¤¤¤¤

“I’m really sorry Y/N,” Jin tells you as he drags Yoongi down the hall. “He didn’t mean it, whatever he said.”

“Doesn’t matter. It keeps happening. He’ll get over me.”

Jin sighs and continues walking. You’re so done with all the bullshit. Done with all of it. You turn back and slam the door behind you. One reason. Fuck this. Fuck all of this. You don’t need it.

¤¤¤¤¤

“Give it a couple more days. It’ll stop hurting at some point.” You tell the bottle in front of you. “You said you were over him. But you obviously are not.”

Yes. You were in fact talking to a bottle of wine. But hey, you’re out of beer, what else are you going to spill your feelings to.

The sound of a loud bang makes you jump. Realizing it had come from the hall you get up and look through the peep hole. You couldn’t see anything in the hall, so being the smart drunk person you are you open your door. Min Yoongi stumbles into your apartment, hair tossed about his head, shirt wrinkled, and missing pants. The boy is laying on your floor in only a baggy shirt and boxers.

Half of you said it was just your brain playing tricks on you, the other half was screaming ‘holy shit this boy is hot like that’.

“Um. Yoongi?” You ask standing over him.

“Mhm.”

“What are you doing?”

“I came to see you. You wouldn’t answer my calls.”

“I know. It was on purpose.”

“I know.”

Yoongi slowly gets himself off the floor.

“The guys let you leave the house without your pants?” You ask him.

“No. I don’t think they know I left.”

“Gives us more time to talk, right?”

“Talk?”

“Yes, Yoongi. Talk.”

“You really want to talk?”

“We’re going to have to eventually.”

A wide smile appears on Yoongi’s face. It almost makes you smile. He then proceeds to move to the couch and sit in his usual spot. You move to sit beside him, he shifts slightly.

“I’m sorry.” He tells you.

“I figured as much.”

“I really am.”

“I know.”

“Do you forgive me?”

“Not sure yet. Keep talking.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

“Okay. I’m sorry for the way I treated you. That I was never there. That I fucked up do many times. I’m just sorry.”

“It wasn’t just about what you did to me, Yoongi. Look at what you were doing to yourself. You weren’t sleeping. You weren’t eating enough. You stressed too much. I just wanted you to be okay, but you just threw it back in my face.”

“I-I didn’t mean to.”

“I get it, Yoongz. You get caught up in your work and forget about everything else. I get it but that doesn’t make it okay.”

Yoongi made a sound that seemed like a mix of a squeal and a huff. You look over to see him staring at the floor, he seemed sad but also frustrated at the same time.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” He finally speaks.

“I don’t know either,” You tell him.

“Then what do I do?”

“How about not say anything?”

“That seems counter productive.”

“That’s a big word.”

“You used to use it all the time.”

“I’m drunk.”

“That makes more sense.”

“Does it?”

“It does.”

“How?”

“I thought you were acting strange. And not as stubborn.”

“I think I take offence to that.”

“Don’t.”

“Okay.”

When the silence set in you began to shift. It makes you uncomfortable when this happens. Neither of you have anything to say but you both want to say something.

Yoongi stands and starts to move toward the door but then stops. He turns back to you and before you could ask him what he was doing he sits back down right next to you and kisses you. You jump back at first but quickly kiss him back. You pull him into your lap and he groans in response. He the pushes you down into a laying position on the seat of the couch, leaving you feeling almost exposed.

Yoongi then shifts to position your hips between his legs. He kisses you again in a reassuring manner. You carefully lift his shirt over his head, throwing it to the side. He in turn pulls your shirt off and awkwardly shifts you to get it all the way off. He then trails sloppy kissed down your neck, down to your bra. He stops momentarily to take the bra off, kissing around your nipples a few times before continuing down your abdomen. You squirm a little when he reaches a ticklish spot on the bottom of your rib cage, he smiles against your skin and unbuttons your pants. In turn you slide his boxers down to his knees.

Your phone was buzzing somewhere on the floor, you deside to ignore it. Nothing beats this. Nothing beats make up sex with Yoongi, why stop to check your phone?

Yoongi slides his hand down your body, you moan as he sticks a finger into your pussy. He pumps his finger in and out before adding in another finger. He pumps a few more times before puking his fingers out and repositioning his cock to line up with your entrance.

Yoongi starts to finger your clit as he enters you causing you to wriggle underneath him. He starts his thrust slow, moving his hand over your clit at the same pace. His thrusts get faster as he moves his hand up to grope your breast. You become a moaning mess, the only sounds in the room were Yoongi’s grunts, your moans, and the sound of skin hitting skin.

“Yoongz,” You moan loudly.

“I know, baby, I know,” He says in huffs.

He stops moving and pulls out of you, grabbing your hair and bringing you to kneel in front of him.

“Suck me off, babe.”

You nod in response, bringing your lips to his cock. You circle your tongue around his head, playing with his slit the way you know he likes. You open your mouth and press it around his cock, licking it as you move your head down his shaft, lips never leaving his skin.

“Holy shit, holy fucking shit,” Yoongi moans.

You let out a laugh making Yoongi squirm. He grabbed onto your head, pulling your hair slightly. He pushes your head, forcing his cock against your throat, then down further. You choke slightly, letting him take control of how fast your head bobs. He pushes your head back and forth along his cock, you move your head faster and he let’s go of your head.

“Holy hell.”

You smile as little at that, grabbing the base of his cock where your mouth couldn’t reach. The faster you pumped the more rapid his breathing became.

“Babe.”

You nod in understanding, giving him permission to cum in your mouth. He grabs onto your shoulders as you slow down your movements. He groans  as he cums, filling your mouth. You pull your mouth away and Yoongi leans down to wipe off some cum that ran down your face.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you,” Yoongi whispers.

You nod and lay back down, spreading your legs wide. Yoongi leans down and licks across your pussy. You squeeze your eyes closed, completely engrossed in the pleasure. He laps his tongue around your clit and teasing around your entrance.

Damn rappers and their tongues

Licks and teases until you start to squirm, then he moves to lick around your entrance. You squirm more as he continues this. You buck your hips as you cum, Yoongi licks up your mess the best he could before moving to collapse and pass out beside you.

You get up, stumbling a bit. You make your way to the bathroom and grab a rag, wetting it and going back to Yoongi.

“Yoongz, Yoongi.” You say shaking the sleeping figure.

He let out a sad groan.

“I’m going to clean you up, okay?”

“Mhm,” came quietly from his lips.

You went to wipe him down, cleaning all the cum off of him before cleaning yourself, too tired yourself to take a shower. You pick up your phone from the floor, opening it and squint at how bright it is.

Eight missed calls.

Hm.

Two missed calls for Joonie and six from Jinnie.

That can’t be good.

I called Jin back knowing that Joonie most likely called to see if I was just ignoring Jin.

“Why haven’t you answered any of my calls!” Jin says as he answers the phone.

“I was busy, what’s up?”

“Yoongi left the house while we were out and we can’t find him. He left his phone here. Have you seen him?”

“Yeah. Yeah he’s right here.”

“Thank goodness. Is he okay? I’m sorry he’s bothering you. I can come and pick him up right-”

“No. No its fine, Jinnie. Really. He’s not bothering me.”

“But. I thought…”

“We’re talking things out.”

“You guys are talking?”

“Yeah. Well kinda. He fell asleep.”

“Are you sure you don’t need me to come get him?”

“No. I’m not mad anymore. We’ll figure things out in the morning. I bring him back when we finish talking.”

“As long as you’re okay with that.”

“I am, Jinnie. I am.”

You look down at the sleeping Yoongi and smile. This is what you wanted. You wanted to see him fall asleep after talking and paying attention to you. You wanted to see him happy and not as stressed. It almost seemed like a broken kind of perfect.

undiscovereduniverse  asked:

Writing prompt, number 15. Do it. Murder my ass with angst. <3

Sjuul I can’t believe you sent me the exact prompt I was waiting for. Anyway, you asked for this. Angst with happy ending, I hope it’s okay that I slipped some Silverflintmadi into it. If not, I’m sorry? I hope you like this anyway? This is set roughly after the battle in 4x03. Also it’s late and I proofread only once there may be some mistakes im sorry

Silverflint + 15. Don’t die on me– Please.

The noise from the rifles was just dying down when Silver heard a blood-curling scream. He whipped around to find Madi and Dooley hunched over a too familiar body. His breath caught in his throat as he hurriedly made his way to where they were lying Flint down, already pressing some cloth to the bullet wound in his side.

“No no no no” Silver murmured, casting the crutch aside as he fell to his knees, everyone else stepping back to allow him closer to the captain. Silver took over Dooley’s hands in pressing the cloth to Flint’s side, trying not to pay too much attention at how much blood he’d already lost.

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We are not alone in the universe...I found proof on the dark web.

“It’s said that evil prevails when good men do nothing.” Those were once words that comforted me.

I don’t know how much time I have left, all I know is that in the face of uncertainty, an even greater fear exists in knowing that I alone shoulder the weight of knowing the truth….

I’d like to tell you that these words come from a place of analytical stillness, instead of the harsh reality that scares me beyond words. now, The fear that plagues me is very real, justified by earth-shaking implications that accompany Its looming presence.

Keep reading

Debate - AI // Part One

So when @starwarsmashton sent me this gifs I promptly lost my shit and this series is a direct result of it. The next few parts I have written are very heavy in the smut department, so I’m v. excited to share them. 

Welcome to English Major! Ashton!

Warnings: Cursing, Implied smut 

PART TWO // PART THREE // PART FOUR


“You can’t honestly be serious! That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard come out of anyone’s mouth!”

“And everything that comes out of your mouth is such a gem?”

“Oh, bite me. At least I didn’t just defend a psychopath.”

“For the last time, I’m not defending him. I said I could understand his reasoning behind his actions!”

“He’s literally a parent. Not in the traditional sense before you even try to bite my head off, but he fucking created a living, breathing organism. And then he dumped it because it didn’t turn out the way he wanted.”

“We are not going back to the Nature vs Nurture argument again. Drop it!”

Enough!”  Your neck swivels so that you can stare at your professor; a nicely dressed, a too-young-to-look-thirty-one, underpaid and overstressed grad student. His face had been turning red for the past twenty minutes while your argument with a classmate had unfolded.

Honestly though, it was a more common occurrence than anyone would believe. You and the sandy haired boy with the messy curls and glasses had been at each other’s throats since the semester started. More often than not, your thoughts and opinions on the books you read for your lectures were polar opposites. And the both of you felt so strongly towards the material that it lead to the two of you monopolizing the discussions and cutting at each other with harsh words.

It was kind of ridiculous, now that you stopped to think about it. Especially when you realized you couldn’t even recall his name.

Your professor just looks tired at this point and drops his face into the open palms of his hands. He heaves a sigh and then cuts a glare towards the both of you. “Ashton,” So that was his name! “[Y/N]. Please, for the love of everything good in the world, shut up. Others have to get the chance to speak.” But the alarm on his phone rings right at that moment, signalling that your seventy-five minute english lecture has come to an end. “Oh, thank God. Everyone get out and do the reading for our next class on Monday.”

It’s a flurry of movements and everyone’s filing out of the small classroom. You’ve got another class right after, but the past few late nights of cramming and writing papers is catching up to you. You desperately need a nap and missing one class won’t hurt. After all, it’s Friday. You’re done caring for the week.

There’s no sign of your roommate when you make it back to your dorm so you just lock the door and flop onto your bed, sighing into your pillow. It feels so extraordinarily nice to just lay down for a bit and before you realize it, you’re out like a light.

Waking up isn’t as pleasant, though. It’s a harsh slap of the pillow to your face that has you lurching up, blanket pooling at your waist. “What the fuck?” A string of curses escaping your lips right after. You can’t help it–the rude awakening not helping your mood in the slightest.

“I need you to get out of the room.” You’re glancing at your roommate like she’s got three heads as you just settle back into bed. She’s going to have none, if she keeps you from sleeping through the night. She yanks the blanket from your legs and you snarl at her in response, tucking your head under the pillow she didn’t smack against your face. “Seriously, [Y/N]. I’ve got Ashton coming over and you need to disappear for an hour.”

You freeze. How many guys could there be with that same name? “Ashton wouldn’t happen to have dirty blonde curls and glasses and be an English major, would he?” The question slipping past your lips before you could stop it.

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Algophilist~ Dandy Mott (Requested)

(A/N: Hello loves! So this was requested to be long…. But I will try my best! It will probably be normal size so I apologize now. Also bonus points if anyone who can tell me what the title means ;) Anyways… enjoy and don’t let anyone treat you like this!)

*Your POV*

Two weeks.

14 days.

336 Hours.

20,160 Minutes.

1,209,600 Seconds.

That is how long Mr.Mott had kept me locked up in a room in his mansion. I lived in solitude besides the visits occurring every other hour from six in the morning to eight at night.

I had refused to eat, sleep, talk or even move from my spot. I just stared out the window, fighting every emotion that wanted convey, especially the tears that I hadn’t shed since I was stolen from my everyday life into the darkness where all I wanted to do was kill myself.

This morning, I woke up to a gentle pull on my arm and I moaned slightly in anger, pulling my arm away and looking blankly at the blurred figure of Mr.Mott, who now grabbed my arm, clearly attempting to shake me awake, slowly getting enraged at my lack of progress.

“Wake. Up. Now!” he spat coldly and I opened my eyes, blinking gently and his face brightened, “There you go. Look at how beautiful your eyes are. They brighten your face you know. Now, lets play.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was cold that night. Dark.

I really should’ve known better than to walk home alone. I could practically feel bad news in my veins. Still, I proceed to walk home alone, as my girlfriend had scrammed away with her date while I was in the bathroom.

Yes, it frightened me but I continued in determination to be home before ten and unfortunately for me that meant I had to walk through the ally’s.

Shivering as I was without a coat, I rubbed my hands gently on my arms as I peered behind me, feeling as though there was someone following my footsteps.

‘probably just a cat’ I thought to myself attempting to shake off my nerves, but my mind insisted on taking longer strides.

I continued my journey into the darkness until I heard the sound of footsteps that weren’t the noise of heels hitting the cement for certain, and turned around, finally realizing that my choice may not have been the best one. I took off running, but it wasn’t long until I got caught.

“Give me your purse little girl.”

“LET ME GO! SOMEONE HELP ME!”

“Shut it.” He spat with his alcoholic breath, pushing me against the bricks and pointing a knife at my neck, “Now you give me the damn cash or I’ll cut that pretty face of yours.”

“I…. I have none. I just came out here on a date. Please…. J-Just let me go.”

“Well then…. I’m gonna have to cut you, you little whore.”

The man laughed and I felt a slight pain as the cool blade slid against my cheek. Wincing slightly, I closed my eyes and stopped struggling, accepting my fate.

But to my surprise, it didn’t come and I fell to the ground, hitting me head on the cement.

Dizziness overcame me so I closed my eyes, but opening them quickly when I heard a holler and scream and I turned to see my captor on the ground, blood falling from his wound and a man standing in front of him, knife in hand. He turned, slowly, and I wrapped my arms around him as he dropped it.

“Oh my god…. I’m so so sorry! You… You just killed someone for me…. Shot should we call the cops? What do we-”

“You’re not scared?” He asked, his voice shaking slightly with what I guessed a mix of panic and fear, “You aren’t frightened?” I shook my head and smiled a small, sad smile.

“No. Of course not.” I looked down awkwardly, “I mean…. Yes it is sad. You took a life- we took a life. But you saved my life. At the price of another you chose me and I don’t know what I can do to repay you.”

“Just…. Just….”

I let go of him and looked in his eyes, grabbing his hand, “Just what?” My eyes widened in panic, “What’s going on?”

“For-Forgive me.”

“What do you-”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting there on the chair as Dandy plaster some kind of make-up on my face, I remained still and stiff, almost corpse like in hopes that if I tried long enough it may work, killing me. Slowly I could tell it was driving Dandy insane, however.

“I know you’re not dead Y/N.” He mumbled darkly while applying mascara to my eyelashes, “I kill people for sport. I think I would know what a corpse would look like.” He laughed the last bit off in a dark way, as if recalling his fond memories of strangling and stabbing and chopping others just cause he felt superior to them, but quickly got instantly serious moments afterwards. Caressing my cheek with rouge, he continued, “I could kill you too you know. Drain all the blood from your body and put it in bottles. Keep your corpse just to look at your beautiful face and in your crystal eyes.”

At this, I should’ve been trembling, finally breaking too his will. Instead I was beaming in my head, praying to God that he would just snap my neck now and send me safely into the afterlife.

“That’s what you want isn’t it Y/N? You want to be free-?”

Trying to move my tongue under my teeth to prevent myself from screaming in agreence was difficult but I succeed and in my head gave a mini victory cry. Little did I know that in that moment Dandy would slam my head onto the vanity in anger, causing my jaw to swinging harder on my tongue, allowing noise to leave my mouth in the form of a whimper.

Before he could react more, Dandy backed away as if he had forgotten what my voice had sounded like in my two weeks of quiet, giving me the chance to jump out of the seat and run towards the stairs.

Looking down from the ledge at the top of the stairs, I heard footsteps following my own and quickly hoisted myself up on top of the stairwell, closing my eyes and preparing to jump.

Just close your eyes and count to three…….

 

 

 

1………..

 

 

 

 

 

……………2

 

 

3…………

I leapt with all of my might, but still I only felt the flying sensation for less than a second when a force pulled me up and took me into their arms.

Dandy….. No

Tears streamed down my eyes and I began sobbing uncontrollably. With a small push and a small shhhh from his mouth he pushed me into his chest while he stroked my back.

“Little dove stop your crying.” He muttered gently, setting me on his bed and running his hand across my hair while the other stroked my cheek while I curled into a ball, “You are going to be happy here. You are going to be happy here with me. Okay?” I winced in response as his temper rose, “Okay?”

I shivered and nodded weakly and he embraced me tightly, completely  engulfing me in his embrace.

“Then I give you this promise” He said, kissing my cheek and whispering in my ear, “I will make sure you never hurt yourself or ever leave my side ever again.”

anonymous asked:

Do you have any Star Trek 2009 fanfic recs?

Where do I start? They’re all kinda old but so good.

My all-time favourite:

Atlas by Angel Baby1/distractedKat

Between what was and what will be stands James Tiberius Kirk, in all his fractured patchwork glory. Because saving the Federation was only the beginning.

And the rest in no particular order, all lovely reads:

West of the Moon by Angel Baby1/distractedKat

They meet Jim in phases, and through him find each other. Once the layers begin to peel back, though, the future bridge crew of the Enterprise finds more than they ever could have dreamed. When the fight to keep him starts in earnest, the cadets and officers of Starfleet begin to learn that not all wars can be won.

Because long before he had friends, Jim had Family, and the Scaretta crime syndicate didn’t survive to the 23rd century by letting go of its own.

Jim Kirk will always be a frustration to Spock–even when that’s not his name.

5 Times James Kirk Almost Died And One He Didn’t by Angel Baby1

You can take the daredevil out of Iowa, but you can’t ever take the driving-off-cliffs out of James T. Kirk, as the unfortunate crew of the Enterprise soon learns.

Illogical (√π233/hy7) by waldorph

If Kirk was a maths genius, and never took Pike up on the dare to do better, but still managed to get to Starfleet? This is what that would look like.

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Grand Mal

Dean x Reader

Request:  Hi my lovely, I dnt know if you take requests but thought I would try. Dean X reader- the boys and her have been best friend all their lives and hunt together. The reader has epilepsy and has a really bad seizure while with Dean. She stops breathing and Dean has to give her CPR. Lots of drama and angst. I have epilepsy and would mean a lot. Thank you xxx

A/N: Everything that’s written comes from what I’ve read about seizures, so I apologize for any possible inaccuracy. It’s not frequent that a seizure leads to respiratory and cardiac arrest, so the events described in this fic belong to a rare scenario. The story is set during season 2.

Warnings: Seizure, Respiratory arrest, Cardiac arrest, CPR, Epilepsy.

Tags:  @kbrand0 @mrswhozeewhatsis @why-do-you-want-my-user-name @getyourrocksalt @daydreamingintheimpala @driverpicksthemuusic @spnwriting1 @mysoul4dean @aprofoundbondwithdean @eeyore1988

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Everyone's A Hero

Originally posted by tallyiaboo

Title: Everyone’s a Hero

Author: locke-the-strength (Note: only my 2nd fic ever)

Pairing: Matt x Reader

Fandom: Daredevil

Based On: Finding Matt injured in 1x10 not Foggy.

Rating: T (Minor Language)

Word Count: 867

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