and your vest

Imagine Newt comforting you after a panic attack...

Originally posted by sweetly87

Soft sobs and hiccups could be heard, echoing through the house. Newt called your name, racing from room to room. 

“Good Lord, (Y/N)! Ar-Are you hurt? What’s the matter?”

He dropped to your side, holding you close to his chest, rubbing his thumb along the blade of your shoulder. Nuzzling your face into his brown vest, your tears continued.

“Shh- Shh… It’s okay… Everything will be okay- I’m here,” he rested his chin on the top of your head, “Just let it out.”

It took you a good ten minutes before you were able to talk, or control your breathing. “I’m a mess,” you laugh-sobbed into his chest, “Sorry for having you worry, Newt.”

“Apologies aren’t necessary, dear,” he said, pulling you into him tighter, “I’m just happy you’re safe.”

***I’m not attempting to romanticize anxiety, or panic attacks. I only wrote this to cope with my own anxiety***

To all the guys binding this summer

-Jean vests are your best friend they keep you cool and cover your chest.

-Drink large amounts of water. Layers means heat and dehydration.

-If your binder is showing under your tank top, nobody cares. They’ll probably assume its an undershirt or none of their business.

-This wont be forever. One day you will never have to bind again and you’ll be able to swim, run, and wear what ever you want. Keep on keeping on.


Gif source:  Daryl

Imagine having been Daryl’s girlfriend before the outbreak, but having been separated before he met up with the group. All these years later he’s believed you to be dead and vice versa, until you run into each other in the woods and everyone in the group is confused because Daryl never talking about you since it was too painful for him.

——— Request for kristalulah ———

Upon hearing footsteps, you’d hid, having learned over the course of the apocalypse that other people are more dangerous than the dead were, in some cases. It was only as they got closer into view that you got a good look at them, but they had passed your hiding spot before you caught a glimpse of that familiar vest.

Your heart stuttered in your chest, and before you’d thought, you gasped out, “Daryl?” He turned his head at the sound of his name, the others of his group drawing their weapons at the sight of a stranger, but wavering in their defensive stances when Daryl rushed to you, wrapping you in his arms and knocking what was left of your breath out of you. “Oh, god. Oh, god,” you repeated, relief and shock rushing through you as you grip onto him as if it were the only thing keeping you alive, “Daryl.” Seeing him was like a ghost of your life before the world had gone to shit, and you embraced the hauntingly unreal feeling as he buried his nose into your neck like he used to.

His voice comes out muffled as his shoulders shake with the same electrifying shock of finding you again, after all these years, “I was sure ya’ were dead.”

Wynne: Varric, who does the embroidery on your vests? You have so many lovely pieces.

Varric: Why Enchanter, I never would have pegged you for someone who cares about fashion. Are you looking to improve your wardrobe?

Wynne: Fashion I could take or leave. But fine embroidery is something to appreciate. It takes a delicate hand and an eye for beauty.

Varric: ‘Delicate hand and an eye for beauty.’ Oh I like that. Do you think I could borrow that for the next installment Swords and Shields?

Wynne: Only if you credit me.

Varric: Wonderful, I’ll write you into the acknowledgements.

Wynne: That’s nice dear, but I meant monetary credit. But I look forward to seeing my name in print as well.

Varric: You’re slyer than you look, Wynne.

Wynne: Ah, and now you know my secret.

Another One Bites the Dust

So I’m working on the last three prompts on my list, but it’s taking a bit longer than what I want. So, I thought I would post something I had archived on my personal blog to act as a tiny tide over. I hope you all enjoy! 

Warnings: Swearing, Blood Mention 

Word Count: 575  

~Mod Jaybird 

You adjust the straps on your boots and move up to latch the final buckle on your vest. Jason is standing beside you, examining the gun he just pulled out of his holster.  

“Do you remember the rules? I don’t want what happened last time to happen again,” you say putting your hand on your hip.

“Yeah sure,” he replies twirling the gun around his finger and sticking it back into the holster.

“Show off,” you mutter under your breath.

Three beeps and a green light signal that it’s time to get going. Jason pulls his gun back out.

“Let’s go fuck some shit up doll face,” Jason says with a laugh and setting out in a run.

“JAY! Swearing was rule number three!” You yell dashing after him.

You run through the dark, chasing after your boyfriend. It doesn’t take long to lose him since the buddy system was never his style. You stand in a corner thinking about what to do when an odd sensation starts across your midriff.

“Shit,” you mutter as you take off at a sprint.

You spend the next twenty minutes freely running from obstacle to obstacle, dodging attackers and firing rounds from the gun in your hand.

“Jason Peter Todd, I swear to the good Lord when I find you, I will kill you for leaving me alone in this mess,” you whisper into your comms while you hide from sight.

“Been there, done that, sweet cheeks. You’re going to have to come up with a better threat than that.”

Before you can reply, the sounds of people running towards you hits your ears. You quickly slide out of your hiding spot.  “Fine, if death doesn’t scare you, maybe sending that picture to all of your brothers will do the trick.”

“What picture? Wait…you don’t mean feathers do you?”

“Indeed, I do.”

“You said you deleted that, Y/N!”

“People lie, Jaybird. Especially when things can be used for blackmail,” you say, the smirk on your face evident in your tone. You are so busy hanging the blackmail over your boyfriend’s head that you don’t notice the dead end swiftly approaching until you collide with it.

“Y/N? You okay? I heard a loud noise through the comms,” Jason says.




“Y/N!?!” Jason says, worry now evident in his tone.

“Ow,” you say slowly sitting up from the ground.

“Oh, thank God. What happened?”

“I hit a wall at full sprint. I think my nose is bleeding, I may bleed out. If I don’t make it, I want you to know that I love you,” you said with your voice getting more dramatic with every word.

“Why, thank you. I love me, too.”

“Asshole. In all seriousness my shirt is ripped and it’s one of my favorites. I swear this is like the third one this month.”

“What can I say… karma’s a bitch,” Jason said with a chuckle. “I’ll meet up with you when we’re done.”

When the fight finally calms down enough to finish, you are out of breath and can’t wait to find a place to sit down.  You shed your gear and head towards where Jason should be waiting.

You see him leaning on a wall with a smug look on his face.

“I can’t believe you made a kid cry, Jason,” you say as you walk out the door in front of him.

“All’s fair in love and laser tag, babe,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and leading you towards the car.

If someone says your jacket is bad/ugly/wrong because:

studs aren’t spaced perfectly
it doesn’t have the right bands
it’s themed
it has patterned fabric
it has the “wrong” kind of studs
it has political stuff on it
it has feminism on it

Tell them you don’t care if they don’t like it, it’s your jacket, not theirs.

Put whatever you want on your vest/jacket!