anyway i hope this gets attention because i've worked really hard on this??


“I know a place we could go
No one has been there, and no one will know
There it is quiet, forget the violence
You’ve tried so hard to ignore” 

anonymous asked:

About that post where Stiles is leaning up against the lockers, you mentioned in the tags that he looks like an 80's movie. It reminds me of the breakfast club where everyone is running up and down the corridor while the chick, the basket case, - I've forgotten her name sorry! - just stands there and watches. And then I thought about how she and the jock hooked up and then thought of jock!derek and basket case!stiles and it made me incredibly happy.

Referring to this: x

*screams* (genuinely)

Nonnie, you have no idea the height of my obsession with brat pack movies. The concept of jock!Derek and basket case!Stiles makes me very happy. I really like Molly Ringwald and Judd Nelson’s story in the film but I kind of always preferred Ally Sheedy and Emilio Estevez’s - I have a huge obsession with jock/loner story-lines and Ally Sheedy’s character is by far my favourite in The Breakfast Club. And you are right, Stiles really does look like her in that moment:

They both have that slightly judgy look about them. (I love it. I am weak. Take me now.)

I also think a Breakfast Club AU with Stiles as Allison would work - specifically on an angst level with the Sheriff as Allison’s main character arc (in terms of what each of them are battling with emotionally) is that she is ignored at home and subsequently shuts herself off from her peers. Imagine the Sheriff who, after Claudia’s death, found it very hard to look at Stiles because he looked so much like her and as the years went by he found it easier to shut him out. Imagine rebel!Stiles who does anything and everything to get his dad’s attention: smoking, drinking, skipping school, sleeping around. He wants everyone to think he’s weird, a special kind of bad news, but can’t quite pull off the bad boy act because in reality he’s a giant nerd and while he is very popular with the guys at Jungle, his heart is never quite in it. Mostly, he’s just fascinated with foreskin. (The fact he’s once or twice let himself wonder in the heat of the moment if Derek Hale has foreskin is none of anyone’s concern.)

On the other hand, you have Derek in the role of Andrew whose main arc is about the guilt he feels over bullying a guy in his year because he wanted to make his dad proud and show him he isn’t weak. Personally, no matter what universe, I could never see any version of Derek humiliating someone to the level Andrew does (the whole point of Derek’s arc is that he chooses to be kind when dealt shitty hands, even if that kindness is sometimes ill thought out). However, I could see Derek snapping under the pressure he faces at home and beating up someone like Jackson for bullying Erica and going too far. Maybe it’s a werewolf AU where Derek is finding it hard to deal with the pressures of becoming the next Alpha after Laura dying (shit, oh god no, I’m hurting myself big time with this one). Maybe you have Derek who is trying to be the perfect everything: top of his class, captain of the basketball team and straight, straight, straight (dates all the girls in his year) because he’s desperate to prove to his parents that he can be everything they had hoped Laura would be. Secretly though, while Derek likes working for his grades and enjoys basketball, dating is hell for him. Objectively, he likes the idea of sex and kissing but he’s never been in a relationship with anyone that that has been remotely appealing with. All he actually wants is to open his own bookshop one day, and perhaps talk to that strange boy he sometimes sees cutting class with books on the male circumcision and satanic rituals.

Now, I know make over scenes are overrated and overdone but I am a sucker for them and all I want to see is that moment where Lydia (because of course Lydia is prom queen) takes Stiles to the bathroom and gels over his hair and gets him to take off some of his layers - “three plaid shirts, Stiles? Really?” I want that moment where Derek - already completely smitten with Stiles’ unique style of fucked up-ness (because c’mon, you know Derek probably already had a crush on Stiles before detention) - can’t breathe the moment Stiles steps out of that bathroom and he can see his face. And Derek will do the whole awkward woah thing Emilio Estevez does and Stiles will get all defensive and snarky about it, all the while being unable to stop from smiling like an idiot when Derek can’t stop staring.

Anyway, long story short, nonnie - YES. Yes, I love this idea. I want this idea. I need this idea. I have read two Breakfast Club AUs for the Sterek fandom but I must have more. It’s important. So very important. For health reasons.

The Nth Time Katara Saves Zuko From A Date

Written for day five: modern day for @zutaraweek 2017! Late submission, but it’s never too late to write Zutara fanfiction. 

Many thanks to @theadamantdaughter and @themomentofdavyprentiss on tumblr for helping me characterize jealous!Katara!

Read on AO3

Summary: It is late afternoon, and more customers begin to come in. The noise of chatter, combined with the sound of rain, gets louder, but still comfortable enough for Katara to not need earphones to block out the din. A few minutes later, she notices a woman enter the establishment, struggling to close her wet umbrella. She is tall and slender, with the kind of body one would only see on magazines. Her skin is light, especially against the maroon of her dress, and her slightly damp brown hair reaches her waist. She’s pretty, Katara thinks, but she changes her mind when she sees Zuko approaching to assist the woman.

(Just another coffee shop AU featuring a jealous Katara)

A warm hand squeezes Katara’s shoulder from behind. “You know, it’s distracting that you’re always here.”

Without yet looking up from her book, Katara chuckles. She turns in her chair and finds Zuko standing behind her, the corners of his mouth drawn into a small smile. “I’m just quietly studying here,” she says, feigning an innocence betrayed by the mischief in her eyes. “You lose today. You owe me a latte.”

“How terrible,” Zuko says without a semblance of an attempt to fake dismay. He leans down swiftly, giving Katara a peck on the cheek. “It’s not like I don’t buy you coffee all the time, anyway.”

“Hey, you do that on your own, Mr. Manager,” Katara says, absentmindedly smoothing the front of Zuko’s black button-down. “But I appreciate it a lot.”

“You’re bad for business, you know that?” Zuko jokes in a low voice. She hopes Zuko doesn’t notice her blush after he says that, but his grin tells her otherwise. “Anyway, I’ll be going back to work now. I’ll have to pretend that you’re not taking up my attention again. Talk to you later.” Giving her shoulder one final squeeze, Zuko leaves for the counter, leaving Katara feeling warm and distracted.

As a law student, Katara often finds herself studying in coffee shops and small restaurants for hours. Her apartment, which she shares with her batchmate Suki, isn’t far, but she struggles to concentrate with her bed so close to her desk. It just so happens that a café she frequents for its good coffee and cheap meals is owned by a man she finds herself strongly attracted to. It’s difficult not to notice him, really, Katara remembers. The pale skin of his face is contrasted by a faded red scar around his left eye, giving him an intimidating yet arresting appearance. Along with that, even from afar, his amber irises can be seen catching light. The starker contrast, however, lies between that impression and his actual demeanor: he greets the customers with a genuine politeness, greatly tempering the fear one would experience from seeing a man with such a scar. Up close, his bright eyes seem almost molten from the softness of his expression. When Katara mustered up the courage to finally ask him out a few months ago, she learned how deeply his kindness goes, and that along with it runs a sharp wit and sense of humor similar to her own. Two months in and she admitted to herself that she’d fallen in love with Zuko, and to her surprise, she found out that he had been in love with her for a while now.

The months passed like a soft breeze, and the two fell into a comfortable, steady relationship punctuated with moments of intensity. With both of them often occupied with work or school, they would excitedly catch up with each other during their vacant periods, going on all kinds of dates. He’s an adoring boyfriend, always trying to surprise Katara with presents as small as a blue hairpin she didn’t have  enough cents to buy, or as big as an overnight getaway at the beach during her weekend. They do see each other often at Zuko’s café because Katara now basically only ever goes there unless she had to be elsewhere out of necessity, but they agreed to interact minimally during his shifts. Zuko would focus on work, and Katara would focus on hers. It also gives them something to look forward to at the end of the day.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Katara then composes herself, shifting her focus back onto her readings. She smooths the page in front of her, uncaps her blue highlighter, and resumes her reading. It starts to rain outside, and Katara sighs relaxedly. The sound of pouring rain helps her concentrate.

It is late afternoon, and more customers begin to come in. The noise of chatter, combined with the sound of rain, gets louder, but still comfortable enough for Katara to not need earphones to block out the din. A few minutes later, she notices a woman enter the establishment, struggling to close her wet umbrella. She is tall and slender, with the kind of body one would only see on magazines. Her skin is light, especially against the maroon of her dress, and her slightly damp brown hair reaches her waist. She’s pretty, Katara thinks, but she changes her mind when she sees Zuko approaching to assist the woman. He closes her umbrella for her, and deposits it in the container by the door. Katara tries to avert her gaze back to her table, but she continues to watch as he escorts her to a single table a few feet from Katara. The woman gives a tight-lipped smile, drawing attention to the fullness of her red-painted lips. Zuko bows after the woman seats herself, and walks back to the counter. Katara, grasping her highlighter tightly in her hand, exhales heavily. Spirits, Katara, she’s just a customer, she reprimands herself. Who happens to be very pretty.

Despite her attempts to let the matter go, Katara observes the following: the woman asks for soy milk for her macchiato, she is almost as tall as Zuko, and she engages in small talk with the cashier. She is also ridiculously pretty with her silvery-blue eyes under thick, long lashes. Katara starts to calm down, but then she sees her calling Zuko, who, as manager, Katara convinces herself, would be happy to assist her in anyway. Her ears perked, Katara overhears the girl asking something that isn’t what’s on the menu or how are you today . She’s asking him what time his shift ends. He’s closing up tonight, he says, and so the girl asks if maybe he could spare a minute to chat with her because she’s new in town. It is still raining outside, Katara notices, so she directs her attention to the sound of rain to help her study. Katara tries to concentrate on the Constitution but the girl’s giggling keeps breaking through her focus. Sneaking a glance in their direction, she finds Zuko now seated across her, and the girl leaning forward with her elbows on the round table. He’s not even looking at me!

“Fine,” she mutters to herself. She loudly shuts her book and shoves it into her satchel along with her other reading materials. She drops her pens and highlighters into the bag, not even bothering to return her pens in their case. Pushing her chair back sharply against the wooden floor, Katara stands up and walks over to the table where Zuko is at. The girl notices her presence first, eyebrows raised subtly but inquisitively at Katara. She tries to maintain her composure despite the seething in her chest, but one look from Zuko’s bright face immediately soothes her.

“Hey, Zuko,” Katara says, moving her weight to one leg to emphasize her hips. In the woman’s presence she starts to feel conscious about her faded blue top and black jeans, but she shoves this embarrassment to the back of her mind. “I’ll have to go home early today. Turns out Suki left her keys in our apartment, so I’ll have to open up for her.” Suki did actually call this morning to ask Katara to wait up for her because she left her keys. But Katara knew Suki won’t be home earlier than 9 in the evening, and it was only five minutes past six. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Her heart leaps a bit when Zuko’s eyes widen, visibly dimming with disappointment and worry. “Now? But it’s still raining. Why don’t you wait it out?”

“Oh,” Katara shrugs. “It’s pretty much just drizzling at this point, I’ll be fine.” She looks away, upset and nervous about the whole situation.

“No, Katara, it’s pouring really hard. I know you like the rain,” he insists, standing up. Katara tries not to smirk as Zuko is now completely facing her, his hands on either sides of her face, the nameless girl completely forgotten. In her periphery she could see the girl staring at them, her perfect eyebrows scrunched together. “But you’re going to get sick out there. If you really need to go, I’ll drive you, I’ll just have to let the staff know I’ll be going out for a while. It won’t take long, anyway.” He kisses her forehead. “Okay?”

“Oh, Zuko, you don’t have to.“ Katara freezes—she just wants to kiss him goodbye in front the girl, not pull him from his work out of her pettiness!

“It’s not a problem, Katara.” He assures her with a warm smile and a squeeze on her hand, loosening the tension in her spine.

Before he manages to walk away, Katara gently pulls him by the hand, making him turn back towards her. She stares at his lips, gesturing her desire to kiss him, and she glances slowly at his eyes for approval. Zuko lets out a small chuckle before kissing her right there in the middle of his shop, right in front of the light-skinned girl. His kiss is warm and electric, as always, and as gentle as a falling into place. She hears a soft, deep sigh from Zuko as she tongues his lips open, making her way into the warmth of his mouth. Satisfaction and desire settle in Katara’s belly, and she starts to think that she might have been cruel. For a moment she feels almost embarrassed by her possessiveness, by allowing it to drive her to do such an act in the middle of Zuko’s café, but she couldn’t stand seeing Zuko cluelessly responding to others’ romantic and sexual advances. She finds Zuko’s obliviousness to flirting adorable, but maddening because she’d always have to step in and keep Zuko from unwittingly agreeing to a date. Katara knows she’s not gorgeous, and it doesn’t help that she’s always just bare-faced and plainly dressed. She often doesn’t mind this, but when someone who looks like a runway model shows interest in Zuko, Katara can’t help but suddenly feel insecure and defensive. And Zuko is beautiful, of course people would express interest! Katara has to remind herself, he chose me, he continues to choose me. And when the mental exercise doesn’t work—and it often doesn’t—she has to resort to making sure, in whatever manner necessary, that the other party knows that yes, Zuko chose her.

When they finally pull away, Zuko appears obviously flushed, his gaze fixed on Katara’s face. Her lips, still parted, tingle in the absence of Zuko’s kiss. He lets out another quiet laugh, as he often does in awkwardness, and seals their kiss with another on her forehead. Katara’s jealousy dissolves into tenderness at Zuko’s affections. Shaking his head, he whispers almost seductively, “Bad for business.” She thinks herself silly for being jealous for a moment when Zuko has done nothing but demonstrate how smitten he is by her. It had to be done, she thinks to herself anyway, letting out a breath in relief. Then, turning towards the stranger, Zuko bows lightly. Politely he says, “Thank you for your company. It was pleasant chatting with you, but I’d have to excuse myself now. Enjoy your coffee.” Saying nothing further, Zuko then leaves for the staff area. Katara, herself breathless, holding onto the strap of her satchel with one hand, eyes the obviously upset girl and smiles. “He’s the sweetest.”

anonymous asked:

god yep sometimes words just aren't enough, that's why i've taken to spamming hearts lmao :') anyway uhhhh prompts!? ...... enjolras getting a recurring kind anon on his ridiculously hard-to-find venting blog (bc Of Course he has a venting blog, but none if his irl friends know about it) but the anon is like weirdly specific so he knows it's someone from irl and so he embarks on his own secret adventure trying to find out who it is, while not letting anyone else know about it??

oh this sounds fun! let’s begin shall we? I haven’t been to a vent blog before so this is just my idea of what it’s like. also this got really long so i will be dividing it up into multiple parts as i work, mainly because it’s late here and i’m tired from crying

Enjolras sighed, taking his computer out. It had been a long day at the Musain. It seemed that summer break meant that all his friends had gone completely insane. Even Combeferre seemed to be a bit more reckless than his normal professional self. 

That’s what Enjolras liked about the internet. It was a place that you could be rash and impractical while still keeping up you personal life as balanced as possible. Enjolras didn’t like being hasty, even on the internet. He personally didn’t believe in being reckless or wild, he preferred to be practical and collected. His speeches, though seeming passionate and full of emotion, had gone through stages of editing before they were brought out into the world.

That was how he started a vent blog on Tumblr. He had started the blog to create a conversation about issues, but the internet was not one for a rational debate. He turned his blog into a vent blog when an anon started ranting about a current political issue. Enjolras relished in learning the other side of the story, not just the view he had. At first, it was mainly political anons, but then some would come talking about their personal lives.

Day in and day out, Enjolras would listen to people’s problems. It wasn’t what anyone expected of him, no sir, but there was something comforting about it. Enjolras would look at the anons and see that even people who seem to have their life together could be at a place of despair. 

It was this fateful day when someone came to Enjoras that seemed awfully familiar. He opened his inbox and read through the messages. There weren’t many, Enjolras never expected more than three a day, but there was one that caught his eye and he knew he would have to post it first. 

oh my god this guy that i see almost everyday is both infuriating and wonderful. he’s very passionate but it seems like he doesn’t have any emotions. like, the only thing that matters is his end goal and not anyone who is helping him. like god, let us have some fun for once. don’t get me wrong, he’s amazing and i do love him, but sometimes i just want him to shut up. i know ways i can get him to shut up too ;)

Enjolras frowned, reading the ask. It just sounded so… relatable? He felt like he understood the person that this anon was talking about. Enjolras sighed and posted the ask. He read the others, posting them in turn and closed his computer, thoughts racing.

The next day played out in a similar fashion. Enjolras payed extra attention in the meeting, looking for any wandering eyes. He also tried to be more empathetic to his friends. Part of Enjolras scolded himself for letting an anonymous user, that he didn’t even know for certain was one of his friends, get to him. The other part hoped for a reaction. 

He couldn’t stop thinking of the mix of anger and lust tied to the words. The user seemed to be spiteful and enraptured at the same time. Enjolras sighed slightly, unsure how two clashing emotions could be contained in one person’s mind. 

As soon as he got home, Enjolras opened his computer. There were only two messages today, and one was from the user from the day before. Enjolras leaned forward, even though he knew it wouldn’t help his vision, preparing himself to read the comment. 

(anon from yesterday about the passionate guy) i don’t know what was going on today, he seemed off. i can’t place my finger on it and it’s driving me crazy. i had to spend the entire meeting restraining myself from going up and asking him what the fuck was happening. i swear, he’s making me go insane. one day he’s all stoic and the next he’s trying to be some sweet guy. what the fuck

Enjolras stood stalk still, trying to take in all the information. So it was someone he knew. Enjolras posted the two messages, and closed his computer once more and took out some paper. He wrote down all his friend’s names, leaving some space in between each name. He knew he couldn’t contact this anon personally, so he would have to take matters into his own hands. 

The next part will be posted tomorrow! stay tuned and thank you so much

part two     part three

anonymous asked:

★ So, basically, I've read a lot of A/B/O fics where Omegas are treated really horribly, and have just been wanting to read something about Dick being a Beta instead of Omega, in a universe where the Beta's are treated like shit bc they don't "react properly to Alpha's" or w/e and Omega's are treated like gold. And basically the Batfam being super protective over Dick. I really love your stories and just realized you took prompts so I figured I'd send this in to you, to see if you wanted to

★( cont. 2/2 ) write this. Can be Jay/Dick if you want. Emotionally hurt!Dick. Maybe Dick gets physically hurt because of the prejudice and hatred towards Beta’s or something. Up to you! I really just want to see a fic where Dick handles being a Beta in that kind of world plus emotional hurt/comfort + angst yes pls. + protective batfam bc protective batfam over Dick is my guilty pleasure. I hope you’ll think about writing this prompt. If not, that’s okay! Either way, I hope you have a great day!

So sorry this took a while to get out! I didn’t have any inspiration until now. Anyways, I hope this is what you were looking for! I would have written more but I tried to keep it at a good length. It was a fun take and I enjoyed writing it! Thanks!

There wasn’t anything Dick hated more than attending a Gala—a Wayne Gala. Okay, he lied. He actually getting into arguments with Bruce over stupid matters or when the Bat was being a stubborn fool. But this had to be one of his top.

Why? Well one, it was boring. And two, he hated the attention he garnered. Not even good attention, like ones where people fawned over him. No. Not in this type of society. What he received instead were glares, judging looks and eyes filled with hatred and disgust.

That was the luck of being a beta in this world where alphas were praised upon and omegas were treated like gold. Where being a beta was less respected due to the fact that they brought no benefit to either caste. They have no worth and can’t satisfy an alpha or an omega in any shape or form.

It wasn’t as if Dick hated being a beta. Really, he didn’t. It was just hard on him, having to go through life being hated when all he wanted to do was get along with people. Of course there were those that accepted him nonetheless, like his family and friends, but there were others who ill-treated them solely because he was a beta.

And this situation that he was in right now was basically him being tossed into a den full of wolves. Bruce did tell him he didn’t need to come if he didn’t want to. He knew how much Dick hated it and it was his own silly way of protecting him from the public. And yet, even if he didn’t show his face, he would still be talked about. Written as the disobedient child of the Wayne family, or a shameless beta who wouldn’t even spare the time to show at his adoptive father’s gala.

Which was why either way, he couldn’t win. Better to suck it up and go rather than having the Wayne reputation being tarnished by his own reluctance. Even though it was already being ridiculed just because he was a beta.

He couldn’t do much about the issue so, Dick tried not to think too deeply about it. Tried his very best to not let it get to him because the few times (or many times) that it had, it fucked with his emotions really badly. Fucked him up so much that he’d ruined a few of his past relationships with those he dated, mainly alphas.

Dick hid within the shadows of the room, pressed up close to a wall where the light was the dimmest. He wanted to stay out of sight, so those lingering eyes fueled with disgust wouldn’t be gazing at him. Gawking at him like he was a creature that couldn’t fit in with them.

Even though he was trying his best to stay hidden, it didn’t exactly work like a charm. The place was large and filled with an abundance of people adorned with fancy clothing. Those who surrounded him where engaged in conversations, but every so often, they toss a glance back his way, eyes full of mockery. Lips pulled into a smirk, like they were better than him.

It made him want to puke. Dick pulled his gaze away from the people and stared at his hands instead, but he couldn’t still feel their intense stare burning a hole onto his body.

He just prayed that the gala would end soon, although unlikely because it just started about an hour ago.

Dick was just minding his own business, hoping no one would bother him, but that was never the case when it came to betas. Especially a beta of high society. Even that couldn’t do anything about the constant harassment and shun he received from others. Honestly, he just wished they would leave him be. Insult him from afar or behind their backs instead of to his face.

So when a small group of three alphas approached him, Dick couldn’t help but scoff loudly, ready to turn around and leave. Unfortunately, they caught him before he could escape. The three spread out, cornering him against the wall as they crossed their arms and stared him down with wide grins.

“I can’t believe you have the confidence to show your face in public,” one of them sneered while the other standing beside him, tall with brown hair, laughed and nudged him on the side playfully.

Dick drew in a long breath and arched a brow at them, putting on a smirk, showing that whatever they were about to do wouldn’t bother him at all. “It is my fathers’ gala after all.”

The tall one’s laugh grew even louder, attracting stares from nearby as the people glanced at them, staring in interest. “Sure. If that’s what you believe. You were just a pity that Bruce Wayne brought in.”

Bright blue eyes blinked at him before they fell into a look of irritation. That wasn’t one he hadn’t already heard, but no matter how many times they said it to him, it always hurt. Not that he believed it was true. It was just the thought of it that bothered him.

“I bet you’re just his boy toy anyways,” another commented, the one who hadn’t said anything. “But oh, I bet you’re not even that good because you’re a beta.” The other two started snickering and Dick rolled his eyes so hard, there was no way they would have missed his look of disinterest.

“And Alphas are so much better?” Dick challenged, his anger getting the best of him. “You guys ravage like animals. Worse than animals.”

And that got the three to shut up real quick, the laughter disappearing within seconds, grins being wiped off just from that mere insult.

“What the fuck did you say?” One of them growled, hissing at Dick, trying to reveal his domination. His pride as an alpha to make those submit to him. But guess what? It didn’t work on Dick and that wasn’t because he was a beta, it was because he himself didn’t submit to others easily.

When Dick showed no signs of backing off, no signs of showing respect to the alpha, he got furious and took a step forward, reaching out a hand to grab at Dick’s shirt. Dick was prepared for it, was going to let him do it anyways, but a hand flew out, catching his attacker’s wrist.

“I don’t think punching your hosts’ son is such a good idea,” a familiar voice was heard, filtering into the mix of whispers surrounding him and when Dick looked up, he spotted Jason standing beside him. He’d forgotten that Jason was around, having not seen him for a while. And might he add, Jason looked stunningly handsome tonight. With his hair slicked back, looking clean cut and dressed in black slacks and a loosely tucked in white dress shirt, two buttons undone, sleeves rolled up a third of the way and not tie in sight.

Dick had to take a moment to catch his breath from the gorgeous view before him and fluttered his eyes briefly for a moment before he opened them back up. Now, he could see the dangerous look in Jason’s expression, how his eyes were narrowed, and staring straight at the alphas. He was smiling, lips curved upwards, but that was definitely not a nice smile. It was the “do it again I’ll fuck you up,” look that he was giving to them.

He could just feel Jason’s dominance oozing, his top tier alpha pheromones permeating the air, affecting those around him. He was showing that he meant what he said and that it probably wasn’t a good idea to challenge him.

The three alphas quickly backed off though the one caught by Jason lingered for a bit, engaged in a staring contest, trying to see who would prevail. Well, he foiled first when Jason tightened his grip around his wrist, quickly shaking Jason off and took a few steps back.

“Whatever,” he grumbled. “Suit yourself with that worthless beta,” he tossed out and the three fled with their tails tucked between their legs.

A breadth of relief washed over Dick and he sighed heavily, less anxious and uptight. He leaned back against the wall and took a moment to recover from those insults. Even though none of what they were saying was true, it still got to him slightly. It bothered him and did a number on his mental psyche. It wasn’t a rare occurrence, so it didn’t hurt as much as when it started, but the numbers stack and it grows as Dick wasn’t the type to release his stress. He was the type to keep it into himself until he burst.

He was so deep in thought he’d forgotten that Jason was with him and startled slightly when he started talking.

“Assholes,” Jason muttered and turned his attention to Dick, settling his eyes on the man. “Can’t believe you didn’t just punch them.”

“That would be no good.”

“Yeah, but they completely deserve it. Besides, you typically shove them aside when these things happen,” Jason commented and Dick just sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“I guess,” Dick murmured softly and Jason eyed him, suspicious. He was staring, watching him, reading him, and trying to analyze him, making Dick squirm. He didn’t want to talk about it and hoped Jason wouldn’t ask.

“Hey, are you—“ he started, but thankfully for Dick, Jason was interrupted when Damian crashed into them, knocking Jason off to the side so he could have direct contact with the man.

“Grayson,” Damian said and Dick shook away the emotions coiling around him, putting on a smile for his little brother.

“Damian, hey.”

There was a moment of brief silence as Damian stared at him before he reached out a hand and tugged at his shirt sleeve. “I am quite famished.”


Damian nodded.

“Okay, we can get some food over there,” Dick said and glanced around the room, quickly locating the table of refreshments. Now that he thought about it, his stomach was grumbling and he realized he hadn’t had a single bite to eat this evening.

“Hey, wait a minute. I wasn’t finished yet,” Jason retorted and glared at the young teen. Damian just clicked his tongue and folded his arms across his chest.

“Tt. It can wait.”

“Uh no it can’t. And you can just get your own food,” Jason started, ready to pick a fight with Damian. Dick wasn’t about to let this happen and inserted himself between the two, giving them both a look of disapproval.

“No fighting. We’re in public,” Dick said. “Damian first because I’m also hungry. Then we can…talk later if you want.”

Jason just scowled, pissed that he was put on reserve while Damian just smiled in triumph. Dick could only sigh and shake his head at the two, always having to give him a difficult time. Either way, he escaped Jason’s wrath and went to satiate his hunger.

The evening continued on fine for the most part, at least that’s what Dick thought. The gala was almost over and Dick just really wanted to retire to his room. It’d been dragging all night for him and he was just so done with everything.

He went to use the public restroom that Bruce had specifically built for his social events. Dick dipped his hands underneath the faucet and started scrubbing away the dirt and grime off his skin. While he was doing so, he heard the door swing open and the sounds of people shuffling in. It sounded like a few and reflexively, he looked through the mirror to see who it was and found those assholes that had bothered him earlier. A heavy sigh flew from his lips as he finished washing his hands and shook off the excess water.

“Well, look what we found here,” the tall bastard spoke and the way he said it, it didn’t seem like it was a coincidence.

Dick turned around to face the three and leveled his eyes at them, not at all smiling or happy to see them. As he took in their features, he found that all three of them were still holding their flutes of champagnes.

“What do you want?” Dick prompted and glanced at the door, looking for a way to escape. If he could just swing around the real quick, he could make it, but it didn’t look like that was happening as they shuffled closer towards the doorway.

“Just looking to put you in your place,” the smug one, who had first spoke to him, said.

“Wha—“ And before Dick could react, they tossed their drinks at him, the sweet liquor splashing onto his face, drenching him. Drips of liquid rolled down his face, dripping off the edges of his jaws and chin and all Dick could do was suck in a frustrated breath, curl his hands into tight fits. He was tempted, really tempted to show what it meant to put them in their place, but he could not. It would reflect poorly on him and it wasn’t something he would do either. It was just, in a moment of irritation, he wanted to.

“Serves you fucking right for disobeying us. Betas should know their place. You’re nothing but bottom trash,” he sneered and then the three of them threw their flutes to the ground, aiming directly for Dick’s feet as the glass shattered into a million pieces.

Laughter escaped from their grinning lips and filled the air as they laughed and filtered out of the room. Even though they were gone, Dick could still hear them mocking him.

It took him a while to finally find his breath again when the rage within him finally dissipated. He was so angry, so pissed at the treatment he received, but he tried to not let it get to him. Let it compress into his growing ball of stress.

He breathed in and out and finally looked at the ground, gazing at all the tiny shards littered around the floor. Alfred’s going to hate this.

Drained of energy, Dick sighed and collapsed to the ground, felt the glass pieces digging through his clothes, piercing through as they poked at his skin. It hurt, but he didn’t care.

“That was a stupid way for getting revenge. Like champagne would even hurt me,” Dick huffed, grumbling to no one but himself.

And although it didn’t physically hurt him, well, the glass sort of it, it did mentally scar him. And while everything they said was false, everything they claimed towards him was just their own warped reasoning, it still hurt.

Dick just couldn’t understand why being a beta was bad. Why being a beta was frowned upon just because he wasn’t the best of the best? Because he wasn’t born as an inferior alpha or a prized omega. Why was it so bad being an ordinary beta? It didn’t make any sense and no matter how much he tried to understand the world’s mind, he never understood it. Their prejudice was what it was and there was hardly anything that he could do to change it.

So at most, he learned to embrace it. To love himself unconditionally even though some things would sneak beneath that bubble he’d built around himself. And from time to time, it happened and there wasn’t anything he could do about it besides mope.

Time passed, how much? Dick didn’t know, but he was lost in thought, wrapped up in his own mind and didn’t notice someone coming in. But there was a hand to his arm, large and tender before he felt long fingers curl around his biceps and suddenly, he was being pulled to his feet. When his eyes met the gaze of his helper, he was met with familiar turquoise ones.

Jason, his savior once again for the night.

“Helping me out again?”

“You know it. You’re just a magnet for trouble,” Jason murmured and stared down at his pants, grimacing at all the glass shards sticking to the fabric. He quirked his lips in ponder and then grabbed a towel from off the rack (one used for decoration) and quickly wiped away all the glass as best as he could.

Dick was just waiting for Jason to say something to him, to ask him what happened, but he said nothing and just continued cleaning meticulously, carefully sweeping up the broken glass into a pile as best as he could.

“How’d you find me?” Dick questioned.

Without looking at him, Jason answered. “I overheard those shit-heads talking.”


And then there was silence once more. Jason was quick and gathered up however much glass he could and dumped it in the trash. “I’ll have to tell Alfred,” he muttered softly to himself. “Okay, let’s get you cleaned up.” Jason then returned to Dick’s side, holding onto his arm once more, gently this time, and then led him out of the bathroom. As they ventured down the hall, they ran into Damian and Tim who looked appalled by Dick’s appearance.

“What happened?” Tim asked and pointed at his oldest brother.

“Assholes. Three.”

“I know which ones,” Damian growled, a look of fury filling his eyes.

“Alright, I’ll let you two take care of them then.” Which the two nodded in agreement, Damian already cracking his knuckles in preparation.

Dick wanted to retort, but didn’t feel like arguing against them when his mind was in a weakened state and let himself be whisked away by Jason and his brothers. They’d taken the back way of the manor to get to the part of the home they lived in and Jason brought Dick to his room.

“Go clean up,” he instructed and pulled him over to his bathroom, pushing him inside before he disappeared for a minutes and reappeared with a stack of clothes. “I’ll be in your bedroom,” he said nonchalantly, like this was a typical thing they did. It wasn’t, but Dick nodded his head anyways.

Doing what he was told, Dick stripped down to his birthday suit and turned on the shower, putting it on hot. He jumped right in and dipped his entire body beneath the shower head, letting the water rain down on him, soaking him to the core. He stood still, just letting the heat of the water engulf him as his mind wandered about.

Thinking about those times he’d fucked up because of his insecurity. How he could have easily ignored them, not letting the words penetrate his heart and mind. And while he had a certain amount of protection he built around himself, it wasn’t as sturdy as he wanted it to be.

It was all so stupid too. Everything was stupid. What others says shouldn’t matter to him. None of it should matter because they didn’t have a say in his life. And yet, it still had an effect.

Dick’s mind was wandering, still going around in circles and circles, lost in thought. He just couldn’t control his feelings, his emotions. Couldn’t get a handle on them, reel it in and be himself again.

“Hey!” A voice called through, shocking him. The curtains of his shower was pulled back and there he was again. Jason staring at him with his arms propped against his hips, a look of annoyance reflected in his eyes.

“What the fuck Dick?” Jason grumbled. “You’ve been in here so long.” He reached over and turned off the water, tossed a towel at him. “Dry up.”

God, he really needed to snap out of it because Jason was treating him like a child now. Do this, do that. Ugh, he wasn’t a child though clearly, he was being one at the moment.

Dick dried his body quickly, shivering from the cold that blew past him and then draped the damp towel over his head.

“No,” Jason rejected and snatched the towel from him only to give him a new and dry one. He grabbed his hand and helped Dick out of the tub and then started handing him clothes for him to get dressed in.

“Need help?” he asked with a hint of playfulness in his tone as Dick was slipping on his briefs. The man just groaned and mumbled a no at him which just made Jason chuckle.

Once done, Jason guided him towards his bed like he was some sick child and tucked him in. Bundled up under the warmness of his blankets, Dick rolled to his side and stared up at Jason was sitting on the edge. Their eyes locked and they were just gazing at one another, neither saying a word nor making a single movement.

Honestly, Dick was waiting for Jason to say something first but it looked like he was instead waiting on Dick to be the one to break the barrier of silence. Well, Dick didn’t say anything and finally Jason cracked and took the initiative.

“What’s wrong?”


And that seriously annoyed the hell out of Jason. “Don’t say nothing. Something is up. You’re not your usually perky self.”

“I’m not that perky.”

Jason rolled his eyes at him. “Really?” And Dick curled his lips into a tiny frown.

“Come on. Just tell me what’s up. Was it those fuckers?”

Dick wiggled his nose at the mention of those alphas from earlier. “Sort of.”

“Go on,” Jason said and made hand gestures, making circular motions for him to continue on.

Dick didn’t want to dig too deeply into his sob story but he supposed he could brief him. “Being a beta is hard,” he admitted and wow, wasn’t that a relief to get off his chest. He was sure he’d never told anyone about that before. “I don’t hate it. Actually, I like it because I don’t have to deal with your bodily hardships. But the hate, it’s—“ he takes a moment to breath before continuing, “is heavy sometimes.”

He’d dig a little further, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood to do so. That was all the information he was willing to give up. Bright blue eyes watched carefully for a reaction of sorts, but there was none. Instead, Jason was just staring at him intently and then he sighed heavily. He got up from the bed and for a moment there, Dick thought he’d annoyed him with his pity story, but he was getting up to leave. No. He was doing something else.

Like getting into his bed.

Jason lifted the covers and slid right in, curling up close to Dick’s body, so close their bodies were flushed together.

“What are you doing?” Dick asked and before he could ask anymore, he was engulfed into a tight embrace, felt a hand curl around the back of his neck and warm lips pressing against his own.

Eyes widened in shock at the realization that he was being kissed, kissed by no one other than Jason himself. One of the least expected persons he’d be kissing. The kiss was short and only last for a few seconds. When Jason pulled away, the first word that flew from Dick’s lips was, “What?”

Jason shook his head at the man like he was an idiot. “I like you. Can we just date?”

Confused, Dick raised a brow at him questioningly. “Jason, I just told you some really deep things and this is how you react?”

Jason just shrugged his shoulders. “Honestly I don’t care. Beta, Alpha, Omega, really, who the fuck gives a shit about that?”

“The world.”

“Well I don’t.”

“…Your point?”

“My point is. Fuck it.

That confused Dick even further. Sure, Jason always went with his own agenda and that was fine and all, but that certainly wasn’t how Dick acted. It wasn’t easy for him to just ignore people in general.

“I don’t get it.”

And now Jason is groaning at him, exasperated. “Look Dick. Who cares what people say? They gonna hate each other and that’s that.”

“Yes but—“

“I don’t care if you’re a beta. I like you. You’re fucking awesome even if you’re annoying sometimes and you’re fucking hot.”



And Dick sighed at that, couldn’t believe how easy it was for Jason to just wash away all his worries by showering him with compliments. Or rather, words of truth that opinions shouldn’t matter.

“I don’t know,” Dick murmured and that was the honest truth. While he found Jason attractive, he wasn’t exactly sure of his feelings, but he never did quite consider Jason his ‘brother’ as they’ve never actually bonded when they were younger. More so, he was a terrible mentor and role model to him which he in turn worked to fix that part of him for Tim and Damian. “I’m not sure I can handle a relationship.” Not after all the other’s he’d messed up because of his self-consciousness and insecurities.

“Try me.”

“It’s not you if that’s what you’re thinking,” Dick said. “I’d love to date you,” and he could feel the corners of his lips tugging into a smile. “I’m not sure if I can make you happy.”

Jason cursed loudly at that comment and captured his lips in a bruising kiss, biting and nibbling to show how real his feelings were, how much he wanted him. “Stupid. Don’t doubt yourself,” he whispered, lips hovering above Dick’s, could feel Jason’s warm breath tickling his skin.

“But in the past—“

Is the past. The future is…us. Let’s give it a shot. I’ll just tell you if you’re being a Dickhead.”

Dick didn’t appreciate that nickname, but he let it slide since he knew it was his way of teasing him. Besides, Jason made a good point and it’d been so long since his last relationship. Maybe he could do it.

“You sure you want me? I’m not an omega.”

“Didn’t you fucking listen to what I just said?” Jason grumbled.

“Yes. I’m just confirming.”

“I don’t care what case you are, I just want you.

“But the people…”

Jason was about fed up with this constant back and forth. “Fuck it. If they try anything, I’ll spit on their faces and give them hell.”

Dick blinked at that comment and laughed at how serious Jason looked when he said that. “Yeah?”


Maybe trying dating again would be worth a shot. And maybe this time around with Jason, it’d be different.

“Okay. I’ll date you.”

“Yeah of course. You can’t deny me.”

Dick was appalled at that accusation. “Wha—“

I know Dick,” there was a grin on his face, an all knowing look that he had a piece of information that Dick didn’t know about. “You stare sometimes.”

At that remark, Dick just licked him in the shin and shoved him aside, while Jason just laughed his butt off and tried to coax him back into his arms.

Jason really did keep up his side of the bargain because the next time someone insulted Dick to his face, Jason immediately turned around, took a gulp of his drink and spit it in their faces. But that wasn’t all they had coming to him because Tim and Damian followed suit with a kick to the knee and a dumping of alcohol on their heads.

Much to say, their relationship was going quite fine and Dick was learning how to deal with the dislikes towards betas.

anonymous asked:

RE: the post about comments on fics -- how do you feel about bookmarks? I've always been shy about commenting on fic, but i always bookmark a fic i enjoy and leave a kudos if i don't. sometimes i worry about whether the authors pay attention to those things too.

I feel a lot of complicated things about kudos, bookmarks, and commenting, and I’m going to be honest about it, but I want to assure you this is not directed at you personally, it’s just my general thoughts and feelings.

Up front, I can say that authors absolutely pay attention to all forms of reader interaction, from kudos to reblog tags to literally everything. We are starving for any amount of feedback and attention and scrap of praise because they are few and far between these days. Personally, I enjoy/crave all forms of interaction with readers, because it helps me to feel less like I am just shouting words into the Void.

That being said, my feelings on Kudos are that they are basically next to worthless. Literally the only value in a kudos is that if a writer manages to somehow collect enough of them, readers sorting on AO3 by number of kudos might find their fic closer to the top of the list. If that ability to sort was not an option, I think I honestly would rather not receive a kudos at all, because JUST a kudos (again, to me) says “you fic just barely didn’t suck enough that I managed to click 1 button in return.” So like… yeah, I guess I like to receive the notifications that people read my fic, but at the same time wow is it a blow to my self esteem to be reminded people read my fic and that’s all they felt it was worth. 1 click. And the longer the fic is, the more effort I’ve put into it (for instance, 2 years of my life and 200k+ words and a LOT of love), the harder that blow strikes. It feels like having written a 200k word love letter to the fandom and just getting the “X has read your message” notification at the bottom of a text convo. (Kudos have exactly 1 merit; when I receive a notification with 1 person’s name on a bunch of my fics at once, I love that. I love knowing someone liked one fic enough to go and read the rest. That’s… that is nice. That’s when I know a kudos is not just “I read it”).

Bookmarks are slightly better, in that it at least tells me that a reader wants to be able to find the work again, hopefully to reread it. Bookmarks with notations for why the fic was bookmarked or with notations regarding what the reader needs to read to remind themselves which fic it is, are even better. Those things tell me a reader not only wants to find the fic again, but enjoyed it for X reasons. I like that. Some of my favorite bookmarks have been ones where people just added quotes of their favorite lines to the bookmarks, with nothing else added, because that tells me they liked words I wrote. I guarantee you that I go through all the bookmarks on all my fics at least once a month to look for those kinds of bookmarks.

All of that being said… I miss comments. I am not ashamed to admit this- I miss them SO MUCH. I wrote in fandom maybe a good 15 years ago, when was the big name in fic and their commenting system sucked so much but so many more people left comments without the kudos button cop-out. I remember writing back at the ends of fics because there was no reply feature on comments. I literally formed two lifelong friendships with people who regularly commented on fics I wrote. I formed several other friendships that helped me through some of the most desperately lonely and hard years of my young adulthood, all because people just commented on fics.

And that kind of community is just… so lacking in many fandoms these days. I started writing for a new, small rarepair fandom community not long ago, and I’ve been blown away by how nice folks have been in comments, and I’ve started making friends with regulars again and oh, I cannot express how nice it feels to NOT feel like i’m shouting into the void anymore. I will literally stay here forever and write a million stories for this pairing if people continue to be so kind. And I know a lot of writers can relate to that feeling (because I know a lot of writers, and they tell me so). It doesn’t take a lot for a fandom to take care of its fanfiction writers, and yet… often it’s just not happening. And we notice that, too- we notice when people don’t respond.

So, like. Yeah. This went a lot of directions, I’m sorry, you’re just the first person to ever ask me. To answer you in short, trust me, we notice when you respond to our writing in literally any way, because we are starving for it. If you bookmark things, we definitely notice it.

fic: Hail to the Chief., 1/1. (AU; Captain Swan.)

presidential campaign AU, with speechwriter-Killian and volunteer-Emma!
9,882 words | adult | AO3

a/n: This came out of almost nowhere at lunchtime yesterday, and I was hellbent on getting it done, because it’s kind of timely. On the other hand, if you’re reading this, and you’re eligible and able to vote, but haven’t done so yet, please go do that instead. :D 

It’s not really altruism that led her here.

Or, well, not entirely altruism.

Because while you can be hungry, tired, and homeless and still want good things for the country, you have to prioritize, and finding yourself a place to sleep for the night beats finding a rich politician a place to sleep for the next four years.

It does turn out, however, that helping that politician often comes with free pizza and that sleeping in the campaign office — whether or not it’s because you don’t have anywhere else to go — is the mark of a dedicated volunteer.

Dedicated enough to accidentally end up on the payroll.

And that is what actually led her here.

To election night in New York City and Killian Jones’ hand on her breast in the moment after they call Nevada for Mills.

(Of course, a lot of stuff happened in between.)

Keep reading

ctenophores  asked:

Hi! I hope this isn't intrusive or I'm not missing anything, but do you have any specific resources on meditation that isn't just about sitting still/breathing slow? I really liked that post of yours and I've been searching for a method that works better for me but haven't found anything that really pings for me yet. Thank you for your time!

I actually do not have resources to link to since I am sort of in the same boat! I can say a few things have worked for me. DISCLAIMER: I don’t consider myself super good at meditation, but I am able to reach a calm thought-free state on purpose so here’s how I do that.

Activities to do while meditating:

  • Drawing or other artistic/creative pursuits that allow me to move and focus on something while not having to think about it. This really works with repetitive tasks like inking a large area with a repeating pattern in it or knitting. Adult coloring books are great for this IMO, you can draw a pattern in instead of coloring a flat area if that helps.
  • Manual labor tasks, either labor-intensive or not, which also involve repetition and not thinking too much. Weeding, digging a hole in the yard for gardening, plucking the leaves off the mint twigs I’ve harvested and crushing them before putting them away, etc. You’ll notice an earth trend there and I have found a lot of consistent returns in doing garden-focused work because that’s been how I’ve tapped into a lot of energy and growth as of late. But I also can get a lot of mileage via chores such as sweeping and dusting where I can kind of double my efforts and effect cleansing at the same time.
  • Exercise like jogging, cycling, basically aerobic stuff that’s also repetitive and not too brain-focused. Don’t do this where there’s traffic, you don’t want to get hit by a bus.
  • Adding music that you easily just sort of fade into and doesn’t call your attention to its lyrics and melodies when you zone into it. It doesn’t have to be soft music at all, just depends on what music you react to in what ways.
  • Shower meditation or bath meditation where you can focus on the feeling of the water and the sound of it and let that help you zone out.
  • Music visualizer animations or lava lamps, to get very stereotypical hippie. Just something not plot intensive that keeps your eyes’ attention over a long period of time.
  • I am so good at doing this during smooth airplane flights or while driving through areas with little traffic. Moving really helps, but it has to be when you don’t have to do a lot of attentive driving, because the brain won’t relax then at all of course.

Different people have all said the same thing about the goal of meditation, which is to produce a relaxed state where you’re not thinking about anything on purpose. If you start thinking about something, that’s fine, just ease away from it and let it go. Don’t fuss at yourself bc then you’re adding the narrative of fussing at yourself. Really, what you’re doing is escaping your usual narrative and taking a break from it so that other stuff has room to come in if it needs to come in.

And other stuff will probably come in! Just thoughts that show up, or even entities that want to say something. Just let the thoughts happen or the entities say what needs to be said, then let em go. Call this inactive listening time. It’s not time to converse right now, you want to be like “okay entity we will schedule an appointment if you want conversation, definitely making a mental post it note for you.” Entities tend to understand that sort of thing and usually just want a moment of your attention. Sometimes emotions want your attention and this is the only time they can find you alone. Listen and just give them witness, then let it go. This is like… the couch potato state for your brain.

Sometimes you will hit this state where you manage to just not think about anything for awhile, and you’ll likely be aware of it after it’s over, bc noticing it tends to make it end. The best way to keep it going is to get used to noticing things in a very detached way instead of making a big deal. Basically you react to stuff later after you review it all. Feel free to write stuff down if you can, or use an audio recorder to note it, if you think that helps. If it doesn’t then forget it. I totally get messed up by writing, it’s too purposeful of an action for me to meditate with because it’s harder for me to do the physical action than it is for most people. But drawing is easy for me and I typically can zone out while drawing some stuff coming in.

One thing I’ve realized is that there’s a sort of way i aim my mind when meditating, and it’s very hard to describe so it’s been very hard to figure out. But basically it’s like, the feeling of pushing forward with my mind. Like my brain has a foot that I’m just shoving forward against resistance with, and it sticks out of my brain for about… a foot, actually. Think like a snail’s foot, though. Anyway, I sort of aim the pressure and focus it like I’m pushing in the same direction as my eye would be looking if I had a third eye in the middle of my forehead. I can feel a circuit or path or flow of energy there, and if I focus on it and push into it I sort of join it and just become part of that flow, and it’s super easy to hit the no-thought zone if I just concentrate and focus like that. I’m still experimenting with that. Basically try pushing your brain around to see if you can get it into a comfortable or useful position, and if none of that stuff made sense, just assume our heads work differently. Mind stuff is weird.

If you fall asleep you were tired and needed sleep and obviously hit a relaxation point! When you’re done you’re done. Like set a timer if you want but I just do it til something in me says “I’m done now, beep.” Try writing out what you experienced afterward to help address anything that came up that was important. try making it into a regular daily thing if you can. If you can’t, no pressure. I’m distractable and random as fuck and if I get meditation done it’s an achievement and that’s all that really matters. No chastising myself for ANYTHING, no fussing, no beating up. Just easy-going and steady and learning to treat myself nice. You can’t fuss yourself into relaxation or snap at yourself like you’re a toddler and expect good results from that. Meditation is basically patience with yourself.

I do not focus on breathing at all, it actually makes me feel more active and distracts my thoughts. Breathing is an autonomic function for me or an exercise thing or a thing I do very lightly on purpose while drawing. I don’t do the flow of ki or energy work. I am an experiential, narrative-focused person and so I just try to work with what I’m good at because the energy and breathing stuff has not made for something that’s been useful to me. Maybe later in life that will change! But for now I do what works for me.

Hope any of that helped!

hibiscus-hemorrhage  asked:

Forgot to add: I've been referring to myself as agender or NB mostly because I'm unsure, but it's a "tumblr gender" so it's not taken seriously. Which I understand based on current political stuff. But still.

Since I’ve now got permission to publish (sorry about the earlier slip-up), I’ll just go with this post to keep things simple (and in case you’d rather not have many people hearing the whole story):

I wouldn’t consider agender and non-binary to be “tumblr genders”.  They’ve actually been around for much longer (I know I had heard of them prior to tumblr, same with asexuality).  Unfortunately, they’ve been abused as terms to the point where people such as yourself find it harder to be taken seriously.  This is a hard concept to get through to these teens that are so eager to create superfluous labels for attention and popularity points.

As I’ve said before, your brain is who you really are: Everything else can be changed and rearranged in order to match (as much as possible, anyway).  Non-binary is indeed the correct term for your situation, as you don’t feel connected to any gender, and dislike sex-linked traits.  GLAAD has a site explaining the various terminologies here.

I did find a resource for guiding medical professionals in providing care for non-binary patients here, which may provide insight on how to interact with your doctor so that your visits are meaningful and mutually understanding.  There’s also, and this list which provides further info (some very interesting glimpses into terminology from around the world), and book recommendations on the subject.  Sadly, there don’t seem to be as many resources that are nation-wide as there are for specific states and campuses.

I would definitely think of it as a form of dysphoria by definition.  Unfortunately, I don’t have any personal experience with this, so it’s hard for me to say much more than what I already have.  If there are LGBT resource centers in your area, they may be able to hook you up with doctors that have experience with non-binary patients, and can help you work through your feelings, and fully understand who you are as a person.

I hope this helps!

“baby girl, you better stop.” michael growled while gripping your wrist which was rested on his hardening crotch. the two of you were in the middle of coming home from a black tie event and frustrating thoughts were clouding your judgement ever since he got ready with you hours earlier. you smirked at his comment before leaning your head in the crock of his neck and leaving long, wet kisses. 

you heard his breathing become slightly irregular by each kiss you left, which made you continue even further. by the time you reached his ear, you nipped at his earlobe before whispering, “why not? are you not enjoying this?” 

you didn’t need to look at him to know his eyes were darkening by the second. michael let out of low groan before letting go your wrist and resting it on your inner thigh, close to the place you needed him most. “are you trying to play games, baby girl? because we both know i’ll win.” he dared, making you squeeze your legs shut at the reminder of all of the sleepless nights of him pounding into you relentlessly. you saw him turn into the familiar drive way you parked your car in every day, meaning you were seconds away from what was about to happen. 

he smirked at your vulnerability before putting the car in park and turning the engine off. his hand remained in between your thighs even with you trying to press your thighs together. “what’s wrong, sweetheart?” michael cocked his head to the side, his hand moving its way towards your heat ever so slowly. your mind turned into mush as each second passed by, making you submissive and him more dominant just the way he likes it. 

the familiar smirk was plastered on michael’s face as he inched his hand higher to your core. “why don’t you change into that little lingerie i bought for you and wait for me on our bed. does that sound good, baby girl?” michael hushed, making you weakly nod and remove his hand from your thigh. “and don’t you even think about touching yourself,” he declared, “because you’re already in for a long night.” 

you rushed out of the car and quickly unlocked the door to your shared apartment before stripping off your dress and heels. michael walked in moments later to find your clothes hopelessly laying on the floor while you were patiently waiting on your queen sized bed. the sight of you fiddling with your fingers while your legs were crossed was enough to make michael cross his arms and lean against the door frame. 

“did you forget something?” michael questions while making his way towards you. your eyes widened at the realization that you forgot to put on his favorite lingerie set. he saw you mutter nonsense into your lap and shake your head which caused him to let out a slight chuckle. 

michael’s hand immediately landed on your knee as he sat down next to you on the bed. the feeling of him caressing your thigh all the way up to your chest made your breathing hitch, issuing michael to begin palming your breast.

“how’s my little girl?” he whispered into your ear, taking his hand off your breast to give more attention to the other.

you closed your eyes and bit your lip in pleasure as you leaned your head on his shoulder for support. your eyes opened when you felt you felt your nipple being tugged on, indicating michael wanted you to answer his question.

“wet, sir.” you replied, making eye contact with the blonde boy while reaching down to grab his very hard crouch. all you heard was a loud and low groan before michael straddled your hips and began grinding into your core.

“you really don’t want to play games with me, little girl.” he rasped, “not after tonight.”

you couldn’t help but moan at his words. nowadays, it was very hard for you to get michael worked up by your actions, but you had been teasing him the entire night and he had enough of it. and you didn’t mind one bit.

it took a few minutes for you to realize that michael was still fully clothed while you were completely naked. your hands ran up his sides, making him know you wanted his white button up off. the infamous smirk appeared back on michael’s face as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“do you want me naked, little girl?”

being a sucker for his words, you whined and nodded you head. his chest was no longer pressed against yours as he sat back up to grab your hands and place them on the white buttons of his shirt. a sense of frustration ran through your veins when you began to rip open his dress shirt.

each little white button began to bounce against the hardwood floors as you struggled due to the position you were in. you happily tossed the piece of soft fabric onto the floor when you successfully exposed michael’s torso. the grin on your face was wiped away once you saw his angered eyes staring you down.

“that shirt was expensive, y/n,” michael threatened, immediately removing his legs that were straddling you to turn you over onto your stomach. “and you just ruined it.”

a little whimper escaped your mouth at his aggressive tone. you turned your head to make sure your cheek was resting against the pillows. “what are you going to do about it, sir?” you dared, subtly wiggling your ass in the air.

michael took notice of your little movement which made his cock throb for attention. his frustration began to take over his self control as he saw you hopelessly laying on your stomach in front of him. he massaged your bare cheeks before leaning his head in the crook of your neck and whispering, “how about i spank you 30 times?”

anonymous asked:

Hi there, sorry if this is bothersome but you're my favorite rhink blog so I thought I'd ask you :) I've been having a hard time lately, so I was wondering if you have any cute headcanons? And maybe people can reblog and add their own? It would make me feel so much better <3 <3

Awww sweetheart! I hope I can make you feel a bit better, even though I’m not really the best at coming up with headcanons (usually they just come to me on rare random occasions) but…

I have been thinking about how we only see a fraction of the little touches Rhett and Link give each other. All those little shoulder taps to get the other’s attention, to show their excitement, that is just scratching the surface of what they do day-to-day. 

Imagine how much Rhett jostles Link, and Link sidehugs Rhett, not to mention plenty of annoying pinches and pokes and constantly rubbing knees everywhere they sit. Link’s shoulder always brushing against Rhett’s chest as they stand amongst other people, always in each other’s intimate space while everyone else at the parties/award shows/casual gatherings give each other personal space. 

Accidentally brushing up against each other in ways they don’t even acknowledge, the back of a hand brushing a thigh or buttock, no words exchanged because they’re so comfortable with each other they don’t need to apologize anymore even though they used to be embarrassed when that would happen in public. Then the times they do apologize, because Link’s backed up onto Rhett’s foot or Rhett’s elbowed Link between the ribs, and the apologies are just met with smiles… It’s okay, brother, even if it did hurt, because it’s you.

Then the more meaningful touches, Rhett grabbing Link around the upper arm to stop him from tripping over something, gradually noticing that his giant hand can’t quite encircle Link’s growing bicep. Link gathering the courage (or foolishness) to brush his fingers through Rhett’s growing stubble, Rhett making a concerted effort to no longer jerk away from the hand near his face. Rhett gently removing Link’s glasses upon seeing him passed out at his desk or on the couch when he’s been working too hard. 

A quiet stolen moment where they stand unnoticed in a dimly lit corner, leaning into each other, Link nuzzling his face briefly into the spot just beneath Rhett’s collar bone. One night after a deep conversation, Rhett leaning down to touch his forehead and nose to Link’s, the tension palpable as they make eye contact at an unreasonably close proximity, causing Link’s eyes to cross and Rhett’s cheeks to bunch up as he tries to hold back laughter, which inevitably escapes to break the tension of the moment that could have easily led somewhere else.

Somewhere else like the space between two soft pairs of lips, one just beginning to be hidden by strands of blonde hair and the other surrounded by the roughest blue-black stubble. Does that hold them back or does some sense of loyalty, or some fear of germs, or is it merely that they both know it would be the point of no return? That if that inch was crossed, every other inch of their bodies would crave the same tender touch? There would be no turning back, just hands and lips and warm skin against skin, joining so that they would never be parted again. Because if any two people could accidentally fuse into one being it would surely be them.

tonkola  asked:


This is all human cause there are children involved.

When Rebekah had come to him at sixteen, pregnant and kicked out of the family home, Klaus had known there wasn’t much else for him to do but step up and become the brother that she needed. He had made it clear though that he expected her to finish school, to be an active parent and to make sure that her priorities were straight once she had told him she wanted to keep the baby. It wasn’t just to prove to their parents that they could make it just fine out in the world without them but the giant fuck you that the two of them being successful in business and family life was something neither of the siblings could pass up.

Rebekah had graduated high school and was currently in her second year of community college. Usually she was the one who participated in Luke’s preschool functions but it was finals week and there was no way she could make it to the annual field day that the school was having. Thankfully all Klaus had to do was ensure Luke had the required towel and was sufficiently dressed and sunscreened when he dropped him off in the morning and then pick him back up three hours later when the event was over. THAT he could do. He had no plans to stay and be a volunteer, Rebekah had done enough of that over the school year that they weren’t going to be expecting him to.

Which was why he showed up in his business attire with Luke in tow at the front of the school with the other ninety or so parents and children waiting to be signed in for the day. It was double the usual amount of children being there at the time but Klaus was impressed with the way that the teachers and aides seemed to be checking to make sure kids had everything they needed, got the kids signed in, put the volunteers to work and had the kids parcelled into groups for the day. It went far smoother than anything he remembered from his school days or even business functions he’d attended.

“Ms. Caroline!” Luke called out, waving frantically at someone and Klaus turned his attention toward where his nephew was looking. 

Thank god he was wearing sunglasses because there was no way he could stop himself from looking the young woman over who was currently bent down, adding some more water bottles into a cooler. It had to be illegal to wear those shorts with those legs because Klaus couldn’t seem to stop staring at them until she turned around at the mention of her name and he noted the fact that she was wearing one of the school’s t-shirts designating her as either one of the teachers or assistants. Was it his fault that she seemed to fill that out really well too?

“Hi Luke,” Caroline greeted with a bright smile and then a hug as the little boy practically crashed into her arms. “You must be the infamous uncle that we’re always hearing about.”

“Klaus Mikaelson.” He offered his hand, wanting nothing more than to be able to touch her, to feel her skin and considering the situation they were currently in a handshake was going to have to do. For the moment anyway.

“Caroline Forbes. Luke’s teacher.” Klaus didn’t think he had ever seen someone smile quite like she did before though the one she had offered him was nothing like the one she had directed toward his nephew. The genuineness wasn’t quite there that time, it was more polite than anything, and he felt himself wanting to earn one of the other ones. “I hope Rebekah isn’t stressing too much. I remember finals week but she’s been working hard all year. She’s got this.”

“It’s her last one today but I am sure she’ll be delighted to hear that you’ve said that.” Klaus followed her over to the clipboard sign in, Luke skipping at his side.

“She’ll do great. You just need to sign him in here,” Caroline handed him the board and took Luke’s towel from him. “And you guys have already written his name on it so you’re ahead of the game. And I see you’ve brought a Baymax one.”

“Oooh! Oooh! Watch what we can do, Ms. Caroline!” Luke pulled on Klaus’ shirt and the two proceeded to do the handshake from the movie, earning another of those coveted smiles from her.

“You can go join Max’s group for today, Luke,” Caroline told the little boy who happily took off toward his best friend, leaving the two adults to finish up. “Pick up is at 11 and I’ll have him and a few of the others at the gate ready to go.”

“I’ll be volunteering, love,” Klaus told her, trying not to show his shock when he realized what he’d just said.

“Are you sure?” Caroline looked him over, no doubt noting the suit he was wearing that really wasn’t field day attire.

“There’s absolutely nothing else that I’d like to do today,” Klaus told her, even more surprised at how much he meant it.

Caroline handed him another clipboard and had him sign up on it as well before the gate was finally closed. “I’ll show you to your station then.”

“How long have you been teaching?” Klaus asked, as they headed toward the field that was already set up for the day, the children sitting in rows and eager to start the day.

“It’s my first year,” Caroline told him before stopping at the slip’n’slide. “So this will be yours to monitor. Do I have to explain how it works to you?”

“I remember this from my childhood, sweetheart, but thank you.” Klaus removed his jacket and hung it up on the fence behind him, noting that she had been watching him rather intently do that before looking away.

“There’s water in the white ice chest and popsicles in the green one. The kids will be going to those as stations but feel free to get one whenever you need one. We’re doing seven minute rotations and you won’t have kids for two of them,” Caroline told him. “Just wave one of us down if you need help but me and the other teachers plus the assistants will be moving around to oversee everything.”

Klaus nodded and watched her walk away, still grateful for the sunglasses he was wearing.

The first group of kids arrived at his station and stared at the slip’n’slide before looking at him. “What do we gotta do?” one of the boys asked and Klaus tried to explain it but they simply stared at him, not really understanding.

He didn’t think his instructions were all that difficult but he could see Caroline watching and figured that this was definitely a way to make a decent impression on her. Even if his dignity might be taking a nose dive.

“Like this,” Klaus told them and proceeded to run and then slide across the grass on the wet slip’n’slide, completely wetting his suit. He stood up at the end, the children were laughing and lining up to do the same, but it was Caroline’s reaction that he was focused on the most.

She was smiling, one of those genuine, beautiful ones that had been directed at Luke and Klaus felt his heart squeeze tightly at that, wanting more of them.

Three hours later and Klaus was thoroughly exhausted. His suit was definitely ruined from how often he’d needed to show the damn station but when Caroline slid her number over to him on a scrap of paper when he signed Luke out it was definitely worth it.