because others laugh and i laugh too and i can think of several factors why


Alpha!Brett x Reader

~ Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Word count: 1 462


It was with doubt and a slight ounce of regret you walked through the main entrance at the Animal Clinic. You and Brett had been asked to meet up with both of your old packs to discuss the future and Deaton had offered the clinic as a safe space for you to talk.

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Fic: Walking in the deep blue night

Part three of my Heartlines AU.

Part 1 Whiskey on a Pink Dress

Part 2 - Breathing in the Half Light


Originally posted by undertheinfinite

He arrived outside Taps for the third time and checked his watch. 6.45. He’d been round the block three times and it was still far too early. Should he go in and wait? Or should he wait outside? Or should he walk around a while longer to avoid looking too over eager?

“Jesus, Jamie. Getting a bloody grip on yerself man. She’s only a woman”

But what a woman. He hadn’t been able to get the image of her out of his head. He’d spent the whole day languishing around his apartment like a lovesick teenager, thinking about her. The soft curl of her hair on her shoulder. The way she looked at him when she’d run her finger down his cheek. He’d also fielded several angry calls and text messages from his friends wondering where he’d run off to.

“Ye’re no Cinderella, ye know’ grumbled Rupert “Ya didna need to be running off before the clock struck midnight.”

“Ah, but my work there was done, Rupe. I’d already been swept off my feet” He recounted his meeting with Claire and his plans to see her that evening.

“Ye were cramping our style there anyway.” laughed back Rupert.

“Aye, I can see how 4 married men in their thirties and forties would have been the toast of the club” Despite his big talk, Rupert had been happily married to his childhood sweetheart for 15 years and was as blissfully happy now as he had been the day he married Gina.

Rupert laughed again. “Aye, well. Gina asks are ya coming to dinner on Wednesday, she’ll likely grill you about the lassie but the kids have been asking for their Uncle Jamie.”

“I’ll be there, wouldn’t want to disappoint the bairns. Or Gina.” he added wryly.

He’d then spent an inordinate amount of time picking out clothes and trying to decide if the fact he had his knickers in a knot about going out for a drink with a woman he had spoken to for probably no more than 7 minutes meant he had severe emotional problems. Why was he so uptight? Whilst he’d not exactly been Glasgow’s version of Casanova, he had been on dates in the last few years. There had been the nice dentist that he met in the supermarket and gotten to talking to over a discussion on the merits of Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc versus Napier. They’d had dinner a few times. He’d even kissed her, but he felt no desire to pursue her and when she text him to let her know she’d been asked out by someone else, he’d wished her joy and simply never thought of her again. He vaguely realised now that probably hadn’t been her main motivation is revealing that tit bit to him.  Then there was F&B journalist he’d met at a craft beer fair when he’d first started diversifying the farm. They’d gone out once she’d spent the entire night talking about her ex, who was a musician before puking in his car on the way home. He’d seen her at a few events since but she’s given him a wide berth. His car still smelt a bit on hot days.

But this, he knew, was different. He wanted to see her, to be in her company, to breath the same air as her. The thought of hearing her laugh, of maybe being the one who made her laugh…

After his fourth lap of the block he arrived back outside the bar. 6.55. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open. It was quiet, being Sunday night and the bar contained about a dozen people. A small group of men in the corner drinking stout and discussing the different brews, a couple at the bar, and Claire.

She sat at a table near the window, staring out at the street. There was a book of poetry spine up in front of her and she had glass and bottle in front of her. Her hair was pulled back slightly, but was starting to escape near the front. She wore black jeans and a black shirt.Her pale skin seemed to glow.  She was lovelier than he had remembered.

“I promise to try not to spill that one down you” he said with a smile. She looked up at him and he motioned to the drink in front of her. “I’m not saying I won’t, but I promise I’ll try”

She smiled back and stood. There was an awkward moment when neither of them seemed to really know what to do. He wanted to touch her, but a hug seemed too familiar, a handshake too formal. Claire solved the dilemma by putting her hand on his arm.

“It’s lovely to see you, Jamie” she said sincerely and he felt the heat rise in his face slightly.

“Oh great” he thought, “now I’m blushing” Claire sat, not seeming to notice the colour which had flooded his cheeks. She gestured for him to do the same. “I’ll just get a drink, can I get you another? A whiskey this time?”

“Oh, no, a little early in proceedings for whiskey yet. I’ll have another of these.” She tipped the bottle towards him. Lady Broch Taurach pale ale. He grinned at her. “You like that do you?”

 “oh yes, my friend Joe at work introduced me to craft beers and he’s a big fan of a little brewery near Inverness, Lallybroch, I think they’re called. I’ve developed a taste for this one”

He nodded and headed to the bar. Lallybroch microbrewery was the most recent expansion he had made to his family business. Lallybroch had been in his family since forever and was a the main factor in his decision to leave oil and gas and come home to Scotland. He was strangely chuffed that she was drinking his beer, brewed on his farm and although he knew it to be simple coincidence, he could not help but feel the same jolt of serendipitous good fortune that he’d felt when he had, quite literally, bumped into her the night before.

He returned with the drinks and sat down next to her so they could both look out of the window. Its started to rain. Because of course it had. It was Scotland. They chatted aimlessly and easily and Jamie’s nerves dissipated slightly. He was still incredibly aware of her, but she was so unassuming, so funny. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun. She told him about her job at the hospital. She’s a surgeon. He told her about Lallybroch. She picked up the bottle in front of her. “I’m impressed. And who or what, exactly is a Lady Broch Taurach?”

“Well,” he settled in to tell a much loved story. “Lallybroch has been in my family since the eighteenth century. Back then we owned the whole estate, and our family were Lairds. The estate was called Broch Taurach, the Laird and his Lady were named for the estate. We just have the farm now, but it’s plenty.  The farm itself is a proper working hill sheep farm and we have some highland cattle as well. We have a tourist bit, with a gift shop and a restaurant and the such. And then about 18 months ago I opened the brewery. We sell to quite a few places. ‘The Laird’s bedroom’, which is a stout and the pale ale” he gestured to Claire’s drink “are probably our top sellers. I live in Glasgow most of the time, running the business side of things and my sister and her husband run the farm day to day”

“A brewer, my dream man” she said with a giggle taking a swig. By this point they’d both had more than was probably sensible or wise on a Sunday night and were both finding life and each other hilarious.

“So how did you end up in Scotland? A wee Sassenach lassie like yer self?” he deliberately thickened his highland accent  in the second half of the question and once again felt a warmth in the pit of his stomach at the sheer pleasure of making her laugh.

“Oh, well” her face darkened a bit “Well, it was my husband. Frank.”

“Your, your husband?” he swallowed audibly.

“Oh we’re divorced now. That tends to happen when your wife finds you in bed with your Phd student” She said this flippantly enough, but her jaw was set and her eyes had dulled.

“I’m sorry t’hear that, Claire”

“It’s fine, really, it’s just, well” She gestured vaguely into the air in a manner that conveyed that whilst things might be fine now, at some point in the not very distant past they had been a long way from fine. “It probably wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t just lost the baby” Tears welled in her eyes and he could see her trying to master herself. He reached forward and took her hand.

“You don’t have to tell me. You don’t owe me anything, but if you want to talk. Well, I’ll do what I can to listen”  She gave him a watery half smile at that.

“Thank you, but really. It’s in the past. It was very hard at the time. I had to do a lot to move past it, but I did and I try not to look back.”

She squeezed his hand.

“I think I might let you buy me that whiskey now”

Several very good whiskeys later he had in turn told her all about Geneva, his terrible relationship history and the real reason for his being in the nightclub on the previous night.

Claire was doubled over with laughter as he reenacted the various conversations he had with people in the run up to the night itself.

“Why everyone seemed so sure I was gonna meet the love of my life in a dodgy Glasgow disco with sticky carpets and one pound shots I’ll never know? They must have really thought I was a hopeless case”

“I’m fairly certain that was why we ended up there as well. Glenna, one of the nurses I work with, has been trying to set me up for the past year. I know that Altered Images is definitely not poor Mary’s scene and from the way Geillie and Glenna were literally trying to throw me in the path of every man that came by, I suspect this was another attempt at finding me ‘a braw laddie’” She did a truly awful Scottish accent and they both laughed again.

“Ya know what, Claire?” he asked as he regained his composure, “I don’t think I’ve ever laughed as much as I have tonight, with you” Her colour heightened slightly at the compliment and she looked him in the eye.

Her eyes are the same colour as the whiskey he noted abstractly. Warm and golden, and so deep and rich you could lose yourself in them.

The moment was broken by the bar man coming over and asking them to drink up. Glancing around Jamie realised they were alone in the bar. He glanced at his watch.

“I er, well” He stuttered trying to find his thoughts. He did not want the night to end, but given that it was a Sunday night could think of no way to extend it.

“Would you like to come back to my place?” Claire asked outright with no hint of nervousness. “I have whiskey” she added teasingly, seeing him hesitate.

“Aye, why not?” He suddenly felt very alive and not a small bit reckless. He had no expectations of her, but the idea of irresponsibly drinking Scapa Glansa on a Sunday night with the woman of his dreams seemed like too good a chance to pass up.

“I only live around the corner, we can walk” Gathering up her book, which lay discarded on the table, and bag she held out a hand to him. He took it and together they walked out into the rainy night

Freddie Andersen- lost connections

Request:  I love your writing! I was wondering if you could write one with Freddie Anderson and like you knew him from when he played for the Ducks cause your one of the players little sister and you always got along and liked each other but lost touch when he went to to Toronto. Then you get into a ma/phd program at Toronto university and contact him so you’ll have a friend and like you end up together. Maybe some of the leafs in it too lol sorry it’s so long! I’ve just had this idea in my head 🙈

Author’s note: I was so excited about this but then my brain refused to let me write! lol. Anyways pretty sure I’ll be adding a part 2 to this…

Warnings: I think a few cuss words? Just assume that’s always a given with my writing. I cuss like a hockey player in real life too.

Up next:  Mikko Rantanen

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That Would Be Enough (Steve Rogers x Reader)

A/N: This has been in my google docs for months and I found it again this morning lol. It was like two paragraphs away from being finished. Sooo, I finished it. Originally this was going to follow the song more closely but it kind of got away from me once I started lol. But yeah, this fic is vaguely inspired by “That Would Be Enough” from Hamilton. Also, I’ve never been pregnant or had a baby before so most of my knowledge comes from seeing other people I know do all this lol. So, I’m sorry if there are parts that are inaccurate.

Word Count: ~2871

Warning(s): Mentions of canon typical violence (this is post-fight), Pregnant!Reader, Enhanced!Reader (accelerated healing, healing abilities, high endurance), Vague Medical Stuff, Slight Angst, Fluff, and I think that’s all?

Originally posted by stevies

I was on top of an empty medical supply crate, I think, nursing a nasty cut on my arm and intermittently looking out over what was left of the city. Mostly I was just staunching the bleeding as I waited for the cut to seal itself, I was pretty lacking in the energy department after the fight so my healing factor was a little slower than normal. I was a few blocks away from the Tower, too tired to head back just yet. Another world-ending battle over New York City, I mean, what else is new? We took a heavy hit, of course, but thankfully it seems like the city is mostly intact. The team, on the other hand, had seen better days. Everyone was alive but clearly more than a little shaken up. They had just gotten back from a month-long mission when the attack started and I had wanted to tell him then but I didn’t get the chance.

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anonymous asked:

How do people respond emotionally while being physically tortured? I'm wondering for my male character who will be waterboarded whether it would be more realistic if he breaks down and cries and begs for it to stop or if he's all tough and laughs like a crazy person like they do in movies/TV shows sometimes. I mean obviously the laughing and acting crazy would be more interesting to write but is it too unrealistic and overdone in fiction?

You might want to start by looking at this post here where I summarise some of the most common emotional and psychological effects of torture.

Laughter in response to pain isn’t that uncommon. I laugh in response to certain sorts of pain especially muscular pain and it does freak people out.

But I don’t think it’s a possible response to waterboarding because laughter requires air. Your character might well want to laugh, but he probably won’t have the breath to actually do it.

The truth is that there isn’t one set ‘normal’ emotional response to torture, in the same way there isn’t one ‘normal’ response to any trauma. There isn’t a right or wrong response.

Personally I think it’s wrong to tie a character’s emotional response to how ‘strong’ they are or to connect their morality to their emotional response. Being more resistant to certain kinds of pain, or responding to them in more socially acceptable ways, doesn’t make someone inherently better.

An important factor to consider is how the torturers respond to the victim’s perceived emotions. If the torturer interprets their victim’s response as….not distressed enough, they’ll do everything they can to make the experience more painful. If the victim laughs, ignores questions, talks back, the torturers will probably double down.

It’s also worth distinguishing actual emotional responses and acting. Torture victims oftenlie and act. Crying because it’s expected, begging because it makes a lie look more convincing or because it will make the torture stop- those are common responses.

If you’re writing from the victim’s perspective this works particularly well because it’s easy to show the reader that this is an act. The contrast between the way the victim is acting and what they’re actually thinking and feeling would be an interesting thing to explore. You could use that to show what your character thinks of these torturers, which could be fear or could be utter contempt that they’re falling for such a dumb trick.

Getting back to the main topic: emotional responses to torture run the whole gambit of responses to negative stimuli. They depend on the individual, the type of torture and a whole host of other things like whether the victim thinks they’re likely to be killed, how likely they are to be rescued, whether they’re suffering for a cause etc.

People can remain stoic throughout torture. People can cry or swear or threaten or scream. Extreme fear is a common response but so is anger. A lot of victims report being surprised at how high their pain tolerance was and that torture made them feel contempt towards their torturers and more confidence in their own convictions.

I would think taunting a torturer was an unusual response but it is plausible and does happen. A response like that might also be a ploy, attempting to force the torturer to ‘go too far’ and knock the victim unconscious.

Your character might also go through several distinct emotional responses as the torture progresses.

With waterboarding in particular I think you need to keep in mind how little air your character has. The torturers will be pausing in order to keep him alive and perhaps give him an opportunity to speak (depending on the context of torture). But he still might not have enough air to laugh or get through his witty one-liners.

Try taking a deep breath and holding it for as long as you can. Then breathe out and hold that for as long as you can. That’s where your character is at best. So unless the torturers are pausing to let him speak he’ll find it difficult to talk. Keep that in mind when you write his dialogue.

I think the best thing you can do is try to tie the emotional response to your character. It’s not so much that any one emotional response to torture is over-used, it’s more that those responses are usually given moral weight or implied to be the only ‘realistic’ response.  

If you’re writing it from your character’s point of view then show why he’s responding the way he is. If you’re writing from a different perspective then try and work in some way of showing why he as an individual responded in that way. It would be brilliant if you could show different emotional responses to torture in different characters.

Firefly did that quite well, showing two characters going through the same thing but responding in different ways.

If this character has been tortured or abused before using a different method then you could show different emotional responses to different tortures. A character who shrugs off and dismisses a beating might have a much more extreme response to waterboarding.

Especially if this character is Western and might associate something like waterboarding with terrorism. Those sorts of cultural connections and baggage really do make a difference to how a character would respond emotionally to torture.

So to summarise: neither of the emotional responses you suggested are unrealistic and neither by themselves are problematic. They’re only problematic when they’re shown as the only ‘correct’ response or the only ‘realistic’ response. People are nuanced and in any complex, extreme, emotional situation different characters should respond differently.

I hope that helps. It’s a complex question so there isn’t any one definitive answer but I think this covers the main factors you should consider for your character and story. :)


Birthdays, First Times, and Letters from Princeton Pt. 1 (Riarkle Future Two Shot)

Fandom: Girl Meets World

Pairing(s): Riarkle

Characters: (Main) Riley Matthews and Farkle Minkus, (Supporting) Maya Hart-Hunter, Lucas Friar, Zay Babineaux, and Isadora Smackle, (Minor/Mentioned) Cory Matthews, Topanga Lawrence-Matthews, Stuart Minkus, and Jennifer Bassett-Minkus

Rating: Honestly, I’m gonna go ahead and go M with view discretion advised. It’s not graphic but it’s right the title, folks, this is Riarkle’s first time.

Description: This isn’t how Riley thought they would end. Then again, she never thought that they would.

Author’s Note: Okay, for this being the first sex-ish scene I’ve ever published, I am very proud of it… So, I hope you guys like it or at least understand that I did my best as a blushing, stuttering virgin :D

It was a week until Farkle’s birthday on April 1st and Riley was in a downright panic.

It wasn’t that she didn’t have a gift for him.

She was his girlfriend, of course, she had a gift for him!

She’d gone to Barnes & Nobles weeks ago and purchased both Death by Black Hole and The Pluto Files by Neil deGrasse Tyson. She then proceeded to read both books herself, leaving notes and annotations throughout to lend a little bit of herself, of them, to the copies.

So, no, that wasn’t it.

It was something…else.

It was sex.

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Best Friend’s Sister I - The Perfect Woman

Pairing: Richard Speight Jr x Rob’s-sister!Reader

Summary: Ohmygod. Okay. The requester had anon-ed themselves, so I don’t know who it is, but their request took up 3 entire asks and if that doesn’t prove to you that this requester person is absolutely lovely then you’re totally wrong. Basically, Reader likes Richard, who is Rob’s best friend, and through the magic of Harry Potter, happy endings actually happen! 

Warnings: Harry Potter spoilers (in case you’re like Rob Benedict who actually hasn’t watched it apparently)

Originally posted by fearandleather13

(actually very accurate, totally 100% what happened)

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A Sisterly Chat

AN: This was just a silly idea based on a concept that probably has already been written about before but I wanted to give it a try. I hope you enjoy it. Ask box is open for prompts.

We have a situation – MH

Busy – SH

This is serious Sherlock! – MH

So is this – SH

I know you are microwaving marshmallows with Rosamund Watson to see if they explode. They don’t. Now will you listen? – MH

Actually, Brother Mine, they do explode if you spear them with metal skewers and put them in the microwave. – SH

An eye-roll emoji? Seriously Sherlock? Grow up. This is important – MH

Fine. What? – SH

Eurus has escaped. - MH

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Prompt: the reader dies protecting Allison and visits the pack a few months later as a ghost

Note: I had to wait and write this during the day because I am a very big chicken lol but this was hella fun to write

Warnings: it starts off really sad because the reader dies and then becomes a ghost. Ghosts freak me out so I figured I’d make this known in case anyone else gets freaked by them too.

Dying didn’t hurt all that much. If anything, it was peaceful. I was able to relax, knowing that Allison was okay. She was my best friend. She was practically my sister. I wouldn’t have wanted to die any other way than saving her life. I strongly believed that she deserved a happy ending. A sword through the stomach didn’t really sound all that happy, and I doubted that it would be featured in a Disney Princess film.

           There wasn’t much that I remembered because everything seemed incredibly out of focus. The edges of my vision were blurred, and I couldn’t pin-point where exactly all the yelling was coming from. It was an overwhelming crescendo that was somehow muffled at the same time.

           Allison’s sweet face appeared before my eyes, tears trailing down her cheeks. I found myself laughing. “Your mascara is going to run, dork.” I coughed. Her lips pulled up into a wide smile, but her chin still shook, and suddenly they parted to let out a cry.

           “Why did you do that?” She sobbed. Scott knelt beside her, and Isaac placed a hand on his shoulder. Kira hovered with a heart-broken expression. I didn’t know where Lydia and Stiles were, but I just hoped that they were safe because now there wasn’t anything I could do for them.

           “Because you’re my sister.” I told her, spitting blood on the ground. “And nobody hurts my sister.” One of Allison’s hands cupped her mouth, and she leaned heavily against Scott. “It’s okay; you’re going to be okay. Please don’t cry. You’re safe. You’re fine. It’s going to be okay.” I tried my hardest to appease her.

           Isaac sank to his knees. “No, it’s not.” He whispered hoarsely. “Y/N, you’re… you’re dying.”

           I gave him a smile. “I’m not scared.” Then I coughed and blood drippled down my chin. Definitely wasn’t helping the situation. “I’m going to be okay. I can’t even feel it.”

           Kira was suddenly sitting, trying to examine the wound. “Do you think… maybe if we put pressure on it… we can call Ms. McCall and Sheriff Stilinski…”

           Scott gasped, “I don’t think they’ll get here fast enough.”

           “The bite. Scott, we can give her the bite.” Isaac’s blue eyes danced nervously from my weak form to Scott’s tear-stained face.

           “Isaac, no. It’s okay.” Using all my strength, I brought my hand up to touch his arm.

           “No.” He argued, lower lip trembling.

           “It’ll be fine, I promise. You’re strong; you’re all strong. You guys can get through this. You’ll never be alone. I’ll always watch over you.”


Months passed. I watched as Isaac moved to Europe. Allison ended up visiting him quite often, so Mr. Argent decided to move there. Scott and Kira’s relationship progressed, although their hands were full with the whole dead pool drama. When you factor in the new Beta, Liam, Scott was constantly on his toes. He and Stiles didn’t spend as much time together as they used to. In fact, Stiles and Lydia had become very close friends. Lydia even helped Stiles ask Malia out. It was nice to see that my friends were safe and happy- for the most part.

           It was around the fifth month that I began to worry.

           Allison started to have nightmares. Vivid, gripping nightmares that left her gasping for breath and screaming. Isaac would run into her room and shake her awake. It would take hours to calm her down. I had never seen my best friend so broken. I couldn’t just sit by and let it keep happening. So one night, when she had started to whimper in her sleep, I called out to her.

           “Hey, sis, wake up. It’s just a bad dream. You’re alright. Allison, wake up!”

           She shot up in her bed, shaking, clutching the comforter to her chest. Allison sucked in several deep breaths. She shook her head and ran her fingers through her dark hair. Through night’s cover of the room, I could see tears on her face and the silver chain around her neck. It was one of my old necklaces. My parents had given it to her at my funeral.

           “You good?” I made the mistake of asking. Allison jumped, eyes wide as she stared at me. She was about to let out a scream, but I held my hands up. “Hey! You’re going to wake Isaac up! He needs his sleep; he’s got a test tomorrow, you know.”

           Allison turned her head, still eyeing me with suspicion as she crawled out of bed. She came around the side to stand directly across from me. “You’re…”

           “A ghost. I told you guys that I was going to be watching over you. Did you think I was lying, silly?” I smiled. It was so nice to be able to talk to her again. You know, despite her being completely and totally freaked out.

           “You’re a ghost. You’re here. Y/N, you’re a ghost.” She breathed. Then she lunged at me… and fell right to the floor.

           I couldn’t help but laugh at her sleepy stupor. “Yeah, I probably should’ve mentioned… I’m kind of transparent now… well, I mean, you can see me but you can also go through me. Would ‘transparent’ be the right word for it? I feel like there’s another word.”

           Allison managed a grin. “I’m so glad you’re back.”


I watched as Isaac shook his head firmly. “No, there’s no way. I’m sorry, Allison, but you were dreaming. Y/N is dead. She’s… gone.” He gulped. “And making up stories like this is just down-right cruel.”

           “But I’m not making it up!” Allison insisted. “Last night, I was starting to have a nightmare. I heard someone calling my name, and so I woke up. I looked around and she was there. I saw her.”

           Isaac slammed the carton of orange juice on the counter. “It’s not possible.”

           Alright, that was enough. Sometimes it was entertaining to watch Allison and Isaac fight like a married couple- mainly because I shipped them so much- but now it was starting to grate on my nerves. I shivered, and then I knew I was visible when Allison jumped, mouth dropping open. Isaac gave her a weird look before turning around, his nose going right through mine.

           “Boo.” I said, giggling as he stumbled back. “What were you saying, Isaac? That it wasn’t possible? Did you think Allison was crazy?”

           He grasped the side of the counter in one of his large hands, searching for support. “How long have you been there?” Isaac asked, breathing hard.

           I rolled my eyes. “I’ve been here the whole time. Like, not just now, but everything before, too. Damn, you guys don’t take my promises very seriously, do you?”


Isaac took it upon himself to call Scott immediately after my surprise-appearance at breakfast to tell him the news. It was pretty obvious that Scott didn’t believe him, so I decided a little trip back over to the U.S. was in order.

           Scott was in his room. Stiles had spent the night, and was currently staring at his sleeping bag in confusion. Isaac was on speaker phone, and was very adamant. “It was Y/N, I swear. She came to see Allison last night, and then she popped up over my shoulder this morning. You’ve got to believe me.”

           Sighing, Scott ran his fingers through his hair. “Isaac, how much sleep did you get last night?” He asked. His tone was rather bored. I’ll admit, I was a little offended.

           Isaac scoffed. “You don’t believe me.”

           “I want to believe you, Isaac. But ghosts aren’t real.”

           Stiles looked up at Scott with squinted eyes. “Why not?”

           “What?” The two werewolves asked in unison.

           “We’ve been through this before, Scott, but I guess I’ll go through it again. You’re a freaking werewolf. Your eyes become stop lights to anyone messing with your pack of werewolves, a were-coyote, a banshee, and a kitsune. We have fought a Darach, took on a pack of other Alpha werewolves, and activated a Nemetan. A few months ago, I was possessed by a freaky Japanese spirit that made a duplicate of my body. After all of that, you’re telling me that you refuse to believe ghosts could be real? Are you stupid?”

           It was quiet for a moment. Then, Isaac muttered. “He’s right, you know. Thanks, Stiles.” Even though Isaac couldn’t see him, Stiles beamed and nodded. I snorted. Apparently he could hear me because he practically jumped a foot.

           “Scott, tell me you heard that. Tell me you heard that with your wacky werewolf hearing. You heard that, right? I’m not going crazy?” Stiles sputtered, suddenly examining his hands. Scott was frozen on the bed, eyes darting across his room.

           I was merciful, choosing not to hold them in suspense any longer. “Hello boys.” I drawled out, making myself known from my perch on the edge of Scott’s desk.

           Stiles ogled me with huge eyes before pumping his fist in the air. “Knew it! Told you, Scott.”          

catastrophic affairs, truly (chapter two)

ch 1 /  on ao3

hi everyone im back with chapter 2 & im sorry mari’s pov is short but later chapters will probably just be 1 pov(and longer)? like i originally wrote all of them with 2 povs and therefore 2 parts but i think im gonna split them after this. just watch the chapter titles bc they’ll tell you what chapter we’re on. ANYWAYS enjoy :D

part a

It takes approximately 10 seconds for Chat to show up at Marinette’s balcony after she de-transforms. She only has time to dust off her shirt before she hears him yell her name from 30 yards away, crash land on the roof, and perform a barrel roll. Show-off.

“Hey, Chat. Aren’t you supposed to be doing your superhero duties? Where’s Ladybug?” Chat (still lying on the ground after the barrel roll) groans at the sound of her name.

“I’m sure she’s taking care of it by herself. It’s noon on a Friday, the biggest problem right now are children that are upset because they can’t sleepover at their friend’s houses this weekend or something like that. Anyways, I just got myself into the biggest mess with her and I know this sounds really strange and sketchy considering I don’t know you that well, but I need your help.” Marinette tries to act as confused as possible.

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so like your guess is as good as mine when it comes to what this is. Again it’s kinda different, kinda ceo!Luke and I kinda don’t hate it.

You worked hard to keep your cool, eyes scanning the passing scenery, trying to let the occasional flash of bright light that cut through the darkness soothe you. You had to remain calm otherwise your father, sitting next to you in the back of the chauffeur driven car, would see through you in no time. And you couldn’t have that. As the car slowed to a smooth stop, you took a deep breath, getting your head in the right space for what you were about to do.

Years of being trained on how to exit cars gracefully came into play as you followed your Father, managing to keep your dignity from being stolen by the constant bright flashes, the press obviously having been alerted that two members of one of the most powerful families, and businesses, would be at the club belonging to another of the city’s most successful citizens tonight.

This one, however, was significantly younger than your CEO Father despite having power and wealth to rival his. Both men were smart, obviously given their status, and had met long ago - knowing how useful it was to keep your biggest competitors in your good graces. Not that this meant they were friends, every time they interacted there was an undercurrent of tension. Neither got to where they were today by being nice to everyone and that attitude ran so deep in them both you’d argue it was probably ingrained in their DNA. But tonight was just a friendly visit, for your Father - who also happened to be your boss at the multi-million family business - anyways. For a change it was you that had come with the agenda, having no issue with recommending you both pay Luke a visit, stressing the importance of nurturing valuable alliances.

The loud music washed over you as soon as you were ushered inside the club, not even bothering to glance in the direction of the queue that stretched along the block knowing no one would dare kick up a fuss about you gaining instant entry. People like you that carried weighty names like yours didn’t wait. Nor did they mix with those that weren’t on their level, again there being no question about where you were headed as two large men dressed in black led you up a staircase and away from the packed, sweaty sea of people below. This wasn’t your first visit to the club in any sense, you’d come here purely for pleasure on several occasions - Luke was no idiot and he hadn’t amassed his riches from owning half-assed hole in the walls, the place was dripping in exclusive luxury. And it rubbed off on everyone who entered, regardless of where they came from for the hours they spent there they were able to experience what it was like living as the other half. But you didn’t have to queue for hours and pay an extortionate fee to get in here, which was why you were being lead to the balcony reserved purely for the owner and his personal guests. That’s where you belonged.

His eyes were on you as soon as you took the last dainty step, trailing his gaze slowly from the tip of your sky-high shoes all the way up to where your hair sat in a sleek bun atop your head, drinking in every inch of you. He smirked from where he sat comfortably on a large couch, expensive bottles lining the table in front of him, associates and scantily clad girls crowded around him. However as you and your Dad approached he cleared them out with a wave of his hand, just his security remaining. You paid no attention to the jealous glares that were being shot at you from every angle from the ladies he’d just dismissed, walking as confidently as always, the fact that you knew they had nothing on you making him grin in approval. Equally he managed retain a cool exterior as he caught a few of his business friends rake their eyes over you - knowing exactly what companies he’d be pulling his investments from come tomorrow morning.

While his business relationship with your Dad had reaped countless benefits for him, they were nothing compared to the benefits he’d received from his secret relations with you. You’d met several times, you being the deputy at the company and so being at many of the meetings he was at, both of you finding it difficult to focus on the figures being thrown around, hyperaware of the other’s presence from the very first introduction. It was inevitable really. You were both similar ages, attractive and accustomed to the same kind of lifestyle with neither of you having time to be tied down in a relationship. Not to mention the possible blow his investments in the business world - and most likely his pretty face, too - would take if one of his most valuable friends found out he was banging his daughter. But the risks involved combined with all the aforementioned factors, plus a generous helping of the allure of two people in power in such a fast paced, cut throat profession made it far too enticing for either of you to resist. None of it was ever planned, no pressure being put on either of you to feel anything. They were merely secret trysts, spontaneously dragging the other into deserted offices or conference rooms and allowing the overpowering lust to take over.

And now you were here, wearing a dress that made his head spin and looking immaculate as always, on his turf for once. But this time accompanied by the one person that made your game that little bit more difficult, although he had to admit that he was excited for the challenge. Except you weren’t here for that this time. You were going to try something far riskier.

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If Walls Could Talk

Part 4: No More Nurses.

Summary: Nicole’s mission to set Jensen up fails over and over, and even their friendship is threatened. 

Word Count: 2305

Pairing: Jensen x Nicole

Warnings: None?

A/N: This is my entry for my own YouAU Challenge! It will be five parts total, and I’m having way too much fun writing this. Yet, here we are. Enjoy!


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anonymous asked:

Hi ! Just a random question but do you know why Yuzu is sooo loved ? I love him too, he's my favourite skater but I noticed a few days ago that people love him more than others skaters (for exemple, Shoma, Javi, Evgenia Scott/Moir, Papadakis/Cizeron, Duhamel/Radford, Satoko, etc) are really loved by the audience but with yuzuru, it's complety different, almost an obsessive fanatism and i just wanted to know why (I know already that he is incredible, talented and cute haha, but others reason ?)

Well that’s a tough question and to be honest I can’t really answer you that.  Different people have different reasons for liking him. There’s so many factors that play into his huge popularity. I will attempt but I’ll probably fail to give you an objective answer.

First and foremost he’s liked because he’s an incredibly mesmerizing skater. My first thought when I saw him for the very first time was that his skating is beautiful. I was stunned that he has such a charisma and confidence on the ice. I think this charisma is crucial in his popularity. His presence is automatically grabbing the attention of the audience. Charismatic people feel emotions very strongly and also invoke emotions in other people (at least that’s what I learnt in my psychology class at university). I’ve often heard commentators point out that Yuzu is an emotional skater. His passion for the sport really shows. The more emotions a person experiences the more invested you will be in the “cause” of those emotions (= Yuzu). But as you mentioned this emotional attachment can become more extreme and sometimes can be described as fanaticism.

By no means am I implying that other skaters don’t have charisma but it’s just not as prevalent or distinctive in each skater. But skaters like Javier and V/M are said to have a lot of charisma. That’s why the environment (where the popularity is measured) matters too. Of course people usually tend to cheer for their own nationality more than for others. In that sense Javier is clearly disadvantaged considering Spain’s (almost?) non-existent skating history but he’s still well liked in the figure skating fandom/community and it can have its advantages being a pioneer in his country and slowly spreading the sport there.

Long before Japan’s rise Canada had been very successful in the sport. But I don’t believe that any Canadian skater nowadays comes close to Yuzu’s popularity outside of the general figure skating audience. Only in the last 2-3 decades but especially in the early 2000’s figure skating in Japan arguably has shifted into a more mainstream popularity and is more prevalent in the media – especially Mao Asada was treated more as an idol than a “simple” athlete. And I’d say Yuzu did benefit from that. I have to mention that contrary to many beliefs figure skating is not as popular in Japan as the popularity of Mao and Yuzu might suggest. That’s what I meant by environment. Japan is giving athletes a much broader platform for a more widespread individual popularity (even if the sport itself isn’t as big). Just compare V/M and Yuzu. As far as medals are concerned V/M have the upper hand but Yuzu certainly is more popular at home.

Why Yuzu is very popular in Japan I can’t exactly pinpoint – it’s probably a mixture of several reasons. For example he’s like you mentioned the cutest thing living on earth. But he’s also very well spoken and intelligent, extremely humble and hard-working which are definitely valued especially in Eastern cultures. National pride is another thing. I’m sure he was plenty popular before Sochi but the honor he brought Japan to win gold at the Olympic Games was huge. On top of that it was the only gold medal for Japan - which might have put the spotlight even more on him alone. With success comes popularity and Yuzu continues to bring home gold medals and world records for Japan. There’s also empathy because of his personal experiences with the disaster in 2011. His continuous commitment to the victims is very well respected. Despite his own sufferings he gives hope to a lot of people.

His popularity outside Japan is growing by the day. It’s helpful that there’s already an existing and quite active fandom for Yuzu. Because there’s already much information and translations available and fans ready to share this information (which we shouldn’t take for granted!!) that it was easier for international fans to learn more about him. Connecting to the earlier mentioned argument that Japan gives Yuzu a platform by releasing many footages from competitions, shows or CM shoots as well as interviews, magazines etc. for fans to share. A constant stream of information keeps the fandom alive in hard times (the off-season and long breaks between competitions).

One aspect which I can’t dismiss here is his appearance. Seriously he is blessed with his beauty. Just recently I read Yuzu became relatively famous in China for his good looks. His skin and proportions are to die for. I remember a junior(!) girl expressed her envy over Yuzu’s waist xD Kidding aside but he is a looker and has that ethereal beauty to him which does help in his skating too. Because of his long limbs and slender body his jumps are very fast and straight (which makes them very beautiful to watch) but don’t forget that a good technique and enormous strength are fundamental in his jumping. He’s got good flexibility for his spins to boot. Some might complain that “he’s not a pretty face” but it does play a huge role in his popularity whether they want to admit it or not. However, he should NOT be reduced to his looks alone!

Many people are also awed about him fighting through any hardships. He’s so tenacious be it in his “fight” against asthma, natural disasters, losing his home rink or several severe injuries (though I’m still iffy about people glorifying him competing at CoC in 2014).

Surely other Japanese skaters like Shoma or Satoko aren’t as popular. Maybe it’s because of the fact that they are relatively new on the top senior level but (in my opinion) personality is the dividing factor here. Compared to Yuzu those two are more reserved off-ice and only recently started to break out of their shell. Yuzu is a very open and chatty person (which can sometimes be even overbearing lol). Maybe it’s also intriguing how he’s different from his “prince” image that he’s often portrait as. Of course he’s a thoughtful and considerate young man (to skaters, fans, reporters, cameramen etc.) but he can also be cheeky, he loves to tease his juniors and he says what he thinks straight-forward.

Comparisons with other skaters end here as I’m not familiar enough with their personality. I’ll just continue fawning over Yuzu and what I personally like about him:

- I love how he’s always grateful of his team and fans that are supporting him

- I love how he’s so supportive of other skaters and can see the good qualities of his competitors (he also doesn’t shy away from complimenting his competitors)

- I love his fierceness when he competes (How he’s ready to crush everyone – almost stand-offish^^)

- I love that you can see him having fun when he skates

- I love how he’s making the rink his “playground” and always engaging in his jump battles with Javi, Evgenia etc. (never admiting defeat)

- I love his strong desire for perfection  

- I love that he hasn’t really changed from when he was a kid

- I love that he’s a unique skater and stays true to himself

- I love how he can laugh about himself

- I love his animated expressions and antics

- I love how modest he is but isn’t at the same time?! (lol sounds contradicting)

- I love that he’s not afraid or hestitant to make mistakes but actually takes this as opportunity to learn and grow

- I love how he’s very self-critical and I’m always stunned at his self-awareness

- I love his smile and laughing

- I love how he always evolves his programs and how he’s constantly challenging himself

- I love his hot-bloodedness (at the same time I don’t because it’s killing me)

- I love his Pooh^^

Trust me this list goes on and on. I think I gave you tons of reasons why he’s so liked but on the contrary he’s by far not perfect and there are also people who don’t like him or aspects of him. But nonetheless, we all look beyond that and just see him for who he is. I think we all learnt so much from him. I feel blessed to go “this journey” along with him, seeing where he’s headed to and giving me inspiration for my own life. It’s not always easy to be his fan but he gives us moments where we think it’s worth it. I know it was an awfully long post but to put it short we like Yuzuru simply because he is Yuzuru. Nothing more and nothing less.

Excerpt from "An Eight Among Sevens"

Remember that weird idea I had about Sasuke needing to pass psych eval in order to be able to run for Hokage and Tsunade telling him to choose someone he could talk to to help with his emotional problems…this is an idea for one of their “sessions” in which Hinata inadvertently changes the course of the ninja world…

“I don’t know.”

Hinata frowned slightly at his repeated response, somewhat agitatedly stirring the sugar and cream into her teacup. She watched the concoction lighten into the softest of browns, looking invitingly sweet and warm. She closed her eyes, reminding herself that patience was the key to all locked doors.

Looking up at her “patient”, she smiled slightly at Sasuke.

“Uchiha-san, I cannot help you if you will not speak your thoughts.”

He glared at her, his anger and frustration palpable in the air between them. It mingled with the steam from their tea and writhed like a snake, wispy and tangible as it drifted around them. Hinata wondered if it was simply something both he and Naruto-kun had in common, that ability to make those around them feel exactly what their mood was simply by their fluctuating chakra.

“Listen Hyuuga.” He spat out, as if the very mention of her family tasted bitter to him. “I don’t want to go through this crap again. Just tell the old hag I’m fine and let’s get this over with.”

Hinata simply continued to stir her tea, the tinkling sound of the spoon against the mug seemed to make him all the more angry. She watched him amusedly, laughing inwardly as he smoothed his long shirt sleeves in consternation. She nearly giggled out loud when the vein in his neck pulsed noticeably, his anger rising.


“With all due respect Uchiha-san, were you not the one who chose me as your ‘person’?”

That quieted him for a bit, his mouth closing shut with an audible click. She stopped stirring, delicately tapping the spoon against the rim of her mug and setting the tiny spoon on her saucer.

“Besides…I did not go into this exactly willing. Tell me one thing Uchiha-san…”

He looked at her, his glare softening in confusion.

“Why me?” She asked, her tone gentle and questioning.

His chest lurched and he raged against this tiny person that dared question him, that dared to pry where no others had tried to before. There was no way he would admit that maybe it was because he had copied Naruto and Sakura and stolen their mutual confidante. There was no way he would tell her that it was because with her soft tone and dark long hair, she reminded him of his mother to whom he would tell anything and everything to.

He slammed his hands onto her pathetically fragile breakfast table, the silverware clattering with the force of his frustration.

“You…you have no right…” He bit out, choking on his emotion, rising out of his chair to loom over the Hyuuga.

She was not intimidated in the least. She simply tapped her nails on the side of her mug, maddeningly rhythmic and calm.


His name being said stopped him long enough to realize he was being stupid…uncharacteristically stupid. He sighed and sat back down, crossing his arms and looking for all the world like a petulant child.

“Sasuke-san…why is it that you want to be Hokage so badly?”

“Revolution.” He said simply, not missing a beat.

“I understand that you believe strongly in change. But killing the Kage was not exactly the most conducive or politically stable way of achieving your goal.”  She continued logically, probing the topic.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s this system that traps us all in a cycle of war.” He said wearily, having already explained his ideas countless times to those who asked, having tirelessly campaigned across Konoha and the Land of Fire to gain support.

She nodded, picking up her pen and scribbling down several notes. She looked up at him, pale eyes boring into his own and he felt laid bare, stripped of his shields. He shuddered to think that Hinata Hyuuga could read his mind, see all his thoughts, because then she would know about those embarrassing, horrifying dreams of his…dreams where her naked, supple form lay underneath his, clawing his bare back and screaming his name in pure ecs-

He stopped his thoughts, mentally beating up that side of him into a pulp, gagging it with tape and torturing it with images of Maito Guy in a speedo.

He was pulled from his thoughts as she spoke again.

“Do you think…” She hesitated slightly, as if scared to make any assumptions. “Do you think that maybe your need to compete with Naruto-kun might also be a factor in this goal of yours, Uchiha-san?”

He remained silent, not wanting to admit that she might be right.

She heaved a sigh, slim shoulders sagging with the weight of her task. Hinata gave him a look of earnest compassion, a reluctant smile pulling at her lips.

“Competition can be a good thing Sasuke-san, healthy even. But too much…” She pulled at a strand of hair tucked behind her ear, bringing it forth.

“Too much, and one can lose sight of themselves, leaving parts of themselves behind all in order to win. It can make you become the ugliest person and when you look in the mirror, you no longer recognize who it is or what is that you want to be.”

Sasuke watched as she tugged the indigo strands to the front, an errant sunbeam illuminating them. His eyes narrowed in confusion when he noticed that this section of her hair was at least ten inches shorter than the rest of them, barely reaching her chin.

She saw his unasked question in his expression and smiled sadly. “To compete for the heart of someone I loved, I almost became what I thought attracted him.”

Sasuke’s eyes widened when he understood.

“That’s…really stupid.”

She laughed lightly, pale eyes twinkling in mirth and surety. “So it is…but when I looked in the mirror and saw the hair that I had grown so patiently cut off so simply, I cried. I ran out of the hairdresser’s shop, part of my hair chopped off.”

She tucked the strands back behind her ear.

“And I realized that I did not like the person I saw in that mirror…that me with short hair and a misguided notion of what I needed.”

She paused thoughtfully, peering into the murky depths of her tea as if it could offer some sort of approval of her epiphany.

Sasuke gaped at the girl, finding his interest peaked by her thoughts and wise words.

“…He’s not with her yet, you know…you still have a chance.” He said quietly, the silly words coming out before he could stop them. He did not miss the strange pain that lanced through his chest as her expression brightened.

“Oh yes…I know.” She answered and tugged at the sleeves of her white cardigan. “But if I cannot win him over by being me, then it’s not worth losing myself over it…I love being me…”

He nodded towards the shorter parts of her hair. “Why keep that part like that then? It doesn’t look like it’s grown at all, if this happened months ago.”

The smiled at him and answered. “To remind me of what I almost did, and to keep me on track.”

“What if you want to cut your hair later?”

“Then I want to make sure it is because I want to…and not because I want to be like Sakura-chan.”

He frowned slightly because he imagined Hinata Hyuuga with pink hair and a violent super strength and a louder voice, and the image did not sit well with him. She was fine as she was, quiet and thoughtful.

Hinata mistook his frown for discontent at her comment and explained hastily.

“Please do not misunderstand. I adore Sakura-san. I admire her strength and her virtues, her tenacity and intelligence. She is one of my most precious friends and I treasure her company! But you see…the problem was with me…” She trailed off.

“You’re fine just the way you are, Hyuuga.” He said and he almost slapped himself then and there. But she surprised him further when she answered…

“I know.”

She sipped her tea contentedly, eyes drifting to the open window to her right and enjoying the sunbeams streaming in.

“…I don’t…” He muttered quickly, feelings bubbling to the surface like never before.

Hinata lowered her mug, softly placing it down and turned to him intently.

The silence stretched between them, his thoughts sorting themselves into coherent sentences and finally he said…

“I don’t know if I’m going to succeed.”

She blinked quickly, a bit startled at the vulnerability of his confession and she felt a warmth shoot through her, a want to embrace him and encourage him despite their differences in opinion and her unwavering wish that Naruto become Hokage.

“May I be honest with you, Uchiha-san?” She said quietly, fiddling with a loose thread on her sweater.

In a slight fit of humor, he asked…”It’s back to Uchiha-san now, is it?”

She looked up surprised at the silent laughter shining in the dark depths of his steady gaze and she smiled again, giggling.

“I apologize. It seemed the best way to get your attention at the time.”

“Well then, by all means, be honest with me…Hinata-san.” He drawled slightly, tilting his head and lifting a corner of his soft lips into his signature smirk.

She flushed slightly and looked back at the window. “I think…I think that you need to reach the people’s hearts first before you can have a revolution.”

He frowned, uncrossing his arms and leaning across the table towards her. His eyes burned black fire and she felt the small kitchen become much warmer than it had been.

“And how do I do that?”

“Sasuke-san…do you remember how when we were children, and we would all fight for the same shady lunch spot under the Jacaranda tree?”

He leaned back, amused. “You mean how you all fought…”

She laughed, remembering that Sasuke-san had been to “cool” to fight over something so stupid.

“And there were always other spots, but everyone always wanted that particular one because it was the most brightly colored one…you know, all the purple flowers and petals blooming in spring?”

He nodded for her to continue.

“I think…being Hokage isn’t the only shady spot in the world.”

“What do you mean? Are you telling me to give up becoming Hokage?” He asked flatly, the humor gone from his eyes and a heavy pressure began filling the room.

Hinata looked up at that, eyes wide and worried because she was never one to discourage someone’s dream. She waved her hands in front of her, flailing in her distress.

“N-no! You misunderstand. I meant that maybe becoming Hokage was not the only way to create the change you want…or that you don’t have to be like Naruto to become Hokage.”

The pressure wavered slightly, and she continued her thoughts, words nearly crashing into each other as they fell from her mouth. She clasped her hands together, desperate to make him understand because he needed this…to know that someone did believe in his dream, even when the rest of the world seemed to be against his ideas.

“Sometimes one just has to find their own way…or make it themselves if that is what they want…”

Sasuke stilled, his eyes narrowing and his thoughts racing.

‘Or make it themselves…’

He stood up, his chair falling to the ground with a loud clatter.

“Umm…Sasuke-san?” She asked nervously, gripping the edge of the table in her nervousness.

He rounded towards her, his strides sure and his face inscrutable.

“Are you ok-eeeeeeeeh!!!!”

She found herself being lifted by her shoulders, her feet dangling several inches above the floor. Her bunny slippers fell one by one as he looked up into her frightened gaze, his eyes bright and alive…he was brimming with energy, his face alight in a way she had never seen before.

“You’re a fucking GENIUS, Hinata!!” He exclaimed, twirling her slightly in his excitement.

“W-what do you meaaan?!” She nearly wailed, his sudden emotion head-spinning and frankly very much out of character for Sasuke Uchiha.

“I’ll make it myself!”

“What?!” She squirmed in his grip, and he put her down hastily.

“A new village where everyone has the freedom they deserve.” And with the biggest smile she had ever seen cross his face, he raced out the door, slamming it in the wake of his ardor.

Hinata was left standing in her kitchen, still in shock as she took in the spilled sugar and the toppled chair. She tugged at the short strand of hair tucked behind her ear and smiled.

“I know…you can do it, Sasuke.”

anonymous asked:

Why would you suggest ouija boards to people? I've seen nothing but bad experiences surrounding them, and there are so many stories around saying stay away. No one I've talked to has even seen one good story either... Not trying to sound rude but i was genuinely alarmed that you would recommend it as a means of communication. If there are good stories please let me know i would love to read about it!

Cleansing & Protecting are key. Also look at our Spirit Board tag

Ouija Boards are a form of communication like tarot cards, scrying, or pendulums. Most people may have bad experiences perhaps because they have not properly protected themselves, have been in bad locations, or a variety of other reasons not to the fault of the tool but rather the place, person, or other unforeseen possibilities.

My personal experience hasn’t been very exciting. I just keep getting trolled by whatever’s on the other side. I’ve gotten a spirit who spoke to me in Leet Speak, some friends of mine and I have recorded a session once and when we asked a specific friend to ask a question, we heard audibly on the recording “ah, shit” that didn’t come from any of us on playback, we’ve gotten a spirit that spelled out different laughs (hahaha, fufufu, the word “laugh”), and many other happenings that have not been all that horrible, just nothing really worth noting, in my opinion. 

Spirit work in general, be it with a spirit board or not, can be dangerous no matter what, but cleansing, protection, grounding, and other options are available to those who are cautious.

I’ve heard plenty of stories about how people get scratched, have bad spirits in their home, hearing/feeling things around them, and so on. My personal conclusion is either they weren’t well prepared or already had a not-very-nice spirit around. Of course, that’s not to say it’s their fault, sometimes spirit work can draw unwanted attention, but that’s no fault of the board as compared to just unfortunate circumstance.

Plenty of factors can come into having a bad experience with Ouija, but it’s of no fault to the tool when a bad experience comes down to misuse or unfortunate circumstances. But of course no one has to use a spirit board for anything if they feel uncomfortable regardless. 

Hope that helps.

Anyone else feel free to share their experience with a spirit or ouija board. 

~ Rose    

Ouija boards are not inherently evil. They are used as a communication tool, and if used responsibly are no more dangerous than any other way of trying to contact spirits.

I personally have never used an Ouija board, so I don’t have any tales for you, sorry. I do, however, want to point out some things that will help anyone interested in using an Ouija board to avoid the dreaded ‘horror story’ scenario:

Always banish the spirit the end of a session.

All to often, these horror stories end with ‘We got scared and threw the board straight in the bin!’  If things get too much, don’t freak out. Remain calm, and end the session properly. Move the planchette straight to GOODBYE and make it clear that the session has ended. Make sure you have extra banishing precautions on hand, such as salt, and you can pretty much eliminate the risk of anything nasty sticking around. 

If anything weird starts happening, end the session.

Repetitive movements on the board, eg, O, Z, O, Z, or other repeated circular motions in particular seem to be a trick that some malicious spirits use to make some kind of entry-way for themselves. No-one is really sure how it works, but there have been several similar cases of this happening. It’s not guaranteed to happen, but it’s something to be aware of. Likewise, if a spirit begins to act up, insult you, or make you uncomfortable, end the session and banish the spirit.

If you’re nervous, don’t use an Ouija board alone in the dark.

A lot of people seem to think that the above is the only way to use an Ouija board, when it’s really just a way to create a ‘spooky’ atmosphere. But remember that if you create a negative environment, you’ll be attracting a lot more negative entities. If you want to hold a serious communication session with an Ouija board, consider creating a more pleasant, welcoming atmosphere, and make sure you’re comfortable and confident. Bring a trusted friend and chocolate :)

> Smudge

And if anyone tells you a Ouija Board can acidently summon a demon they have literally 0 idea what they’re talking about. Demons are difficult as fuck to summon intentionally let alone on accident while using a Ouija board. Depending on your paradigm it could take multiple complex sigils, knowing the true name, an extensive and complicated ritual, or any mix of those plus other possible things. I agree with what was previously stated a Ouija board is perfectly fine and safe if you know what you’re doing and aren’t fucking around. Seriously don’t be stupid with it and take the standard Spirit communication steps for defense and you’ll be peachy.


before asking | faq+tags | resource blog

Jonnor’s First Make-Out

This is my first attempt at fan fiction, and is actually my first time posting anything on here at all. I have been reading a lot of stuff about Jonnor and this story was in my mind and practically wrote itself. The inspiration came from how much Connor and Daria would make out on the show. Since we now know Connor was never really into her, and he and Jude are actually together, it stands to reason that we would see them making out at some point during season 3. As progressive as the show is, I am curious to see if they would actually go that far. From a storytelling perspective, however, it makes perfect sense. The following is my attempt at portraying this part of the story just in case it never actually gets onto the show.

I would love feedback, since I have never done this before :)

Jude and Connor Make-out

Jude was sitting on the floor of his bedroom with his legs out straight and his back propped up on the side edge of the bed. He was holding a copy of “The Great Gatsby” and was somewhere in the middle of the book. Connor was sitting to Jude’s right in a similar position, only his right leg was crossed over his left leaving his foot close enough to Jude’s ankle to allow him to playfully nudge him every now and again. This didn’t seem to distract Jude at all, who was reading intently.

While Jude seemed to be enjoying his summer reading, Conner was having a harder time. It wasn’t that the book was bad or anything, it was just that he had other things on his mind. 

It had been a little over two months since Jude had stood up to Connor’s father and come to visit him in his hospital room. That was the same day they finally made their relationship official. Once Connor was released from the hospital there were only a few weeks left of the school year. They had decided to be discrete about their relationship, not advertising it but not denying it to anyone either. They knew that there weren’t many gay couples at school, none that they knew of actually, and there was no reason to go inviting trouble where it wasn’t necessary by having lots of public displays of affection. 

Once summer began, Jude and Connor became practically inseparable, spending as much time together as their parents would allow. This allowed their relationship to develop more fully as they were able to be together more openly, especially around the Adams-Foster house. Before the hospital, they had kissed twice, once in the tent long before it even seemed possible for them to actually be together, and once in the same room where they were presently. Since the hospital, they had kissed several more times and each one seemed to somehow be spectacularly unique and completely natural at the same time. It took a little while, but they eventually progressed to the point where they would kiss goodbye each evening when the other had to go home. Again, this would always be done as discretely as possible, but they had grown past the point where they would only kiss if they were completely alone.

Of course, if the opportunity presented itself, they would kiss at other times as well. Connor, in fact, would kiss Jude about as often as Jude would let him. That urge was actually what was keeping him from focusing on his reading right now; he just couldn’t get the idea of kissing Jude out of his mind. Their kisses up to this point had all been wonderful, but also brief. Even though Conned definitely wanted them to continue, maybe never stop, he also respected Jude enough to not push him too hard. Privacy was also an issue. No matter how open they could be around the Adams-Foster’s he didn’t think it would be appropriate to make out with Jude right there in their living room. Still, even when they were alone, Jude always seemed to pull away after a second or two. Connor accepted that Jude probably wasn’t ready, but that didn’t mean he was going to stop trying. 

“How’s the book?” asked Connor.
“Pretty good, actually” replied Jude without looking up “how about you?”
“I don’t know it’s pretty boring to me” said Connor.
Jude looked up from his book and over at Connor. “Well, it gets better once you get past the first ten pages you know” he said, referring to the fact that Connor had barely read anything in the last hour. “If you keep up that pace you won’t finish your summer reading until Christmas.”
“Ha ha, very funny. What can I say, you’re distracting me.”
“How am I distracting you? You’re the one that keeps trying to play footsie with me.”
“Oh, so you did notice that huh? I thought maybe your leg went numb.”
“Hey, don’t get mad at me just because you can’t read.”

“Now you’re asking for it!” Connor said as he playfully started to poke and jab at Jude playfully. Jude did his best to deflect Connors poke’s without dropping his book so he wouldn’t lose his place, but it wasn’t working very well. “Stop it, we’re supposed to be reading!” cried Jude. “That was before you insulted me” replied Connor after tossing his book to the side so he could tease Jude more freely “now you must pay the price!” 

The two continued to wrestle, Jude eventually discarding the book to try and fight back against Connor. Both were laughing, Jude occasionally a little harder when one of Connor’s pokes tickled him. Despite Jude’s struggles, Connor was able to get the upper hand and eventually had Jude pinned on his back with his wrists held firmly and Connors body weight pinning the rest of him. They had been in his position before. Conner remembered that moment well, how their eyes had met and they were both laughing. Jude had the most incredible smile and it had caught Connor off guard. He almost completely forgot where and who he was long enough to kiss Jude right there in the back yard. Then, Daria sent him a text and he was broken from Jude’s trance. Daria wouldn’t be a factor this time.

“Okay okay, you win I give up” cried Jude “What’s the price?”

“This” said Connor, bringing his lips down softly to meet Jude’s. He immediately felt that same warmth from deep inside that he always felt whenever they kissed. He broke the kiss but only brought his head up slightly. “And this” he went back down and kissed Jude again. “And this” he repeated the process, this time he held the kiss longer. After a few seconds he tried to move his lips a little, trying to get Jude to reciprocate. 

“Whoa there cowboy!” said Jude, his words muffled slightly by Connor’s mouth on his. Connor broke the kiss and came up, but did not release Jude. “What?” he asked.
“C’mon, I didn’t insult you that bad, how big of a price am I supposed to pay?” Jude said
“Seriously?” said Connor, sitting up. His expression betrayed a combined look of exasperation and hurt. “Sorry, I didn’t really think kissing me was a real punishment.”
“What? N, no that isn’t what I meant.” Said Jude, immediately realizing what he said had hurt Connor’s feelings. He sat up a bit, propping himself up on his elbows.
“Well then what is it Jude? Don’t you like kissing me?” asked Connor sincerely. The look on his face made Jude’s heart sink to the pit of his stomach. Jude sat up more and came closer to where Connor had retreated on the floor at the edge of his bed.
“Connor, kissing you is like… it’s like my favorite thing?”
“Then why did you pull away? Why do you always pull away?”
“I don’t… I don’t pull away.” Jude said, searching for a way to explain himself.
“What do you call what you just did then? I was trying to… you know… kiss you more. At first I figured we had just gotten together and were taking it slow, but we have been together for two months now and we haven’t made out once.”
“We… we kiss all the time…” began Jude
“Yes, and they are all incredible. Kissing you is my favorite thing too Jude, but, don’t you ever… you know… not want to stop.”
“Yeah, I mean, I… I want to…. It’s just…” stammered Jude
“Listen, I… I don’t want to pressure you to do anything you don’t want to do. It’s just that, sometimes I think that… if I’m the only one that wants to… that maybe… maybe you don’t like me the way I like you?” As Connor this last part he couldn’t help but look away from Jude toward the floor.
“What? No Connor, that isn’t it at all. I just…” Connor’s eyes had returned to Jude, now Jude was looking away. “I’ve just never done this before you and you have…”
“Why does that matter?” asked Connor.
“Well… what if I’m really bad at it? What if I’m a terrible kisser?”

A slight smile came over Connor’s face, and he let out a small laugh. Jude looked up horrified. “Really, your laughing at me, thanks a lot!” Jude stated, starting to get up. He was stopped by Connor grabbing his wrist and looking directly into his eyes. “No, Jude, I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you, I was laughing because I had the exact same fear when we first got together.”
Jude sat down again, “Really? But you…” Jude began

“What, made out with Daria?”
“Well, yeah.”

“That was nothing Jude. I never felt anything real for her. If anything, it was just awkward and uncomfortable, especially when we did it in front of you. I probably kissed Daria a hundred times while we were together, and all of those kisses combined never even came close to how I feel every time I kiss you.” Conner and Jude were staring directly into each other’s eyes now. Connor reached down and took Jude’s hand in his. “So, we’re both new at this. I don’t know what it is going to be like; I just know that I want to find out. I also know that there is absolutely no way that you, Jude Adams-Foster, could possibly be a bad kisser.” With that, Connor came in to kiss Jude again. This time, they both held the kiss. When Connor began to move his lips, Jude did the same.

Time seemed to stand still for both of them as they naturally fell in sync with each other. They might have stayed like this for hours, days, weeks, and time had stopped mattering to either of them. In reality, it was only about ten seconds before they were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat in the doorway to Jude’s room. Startled, they broke apart immediately, both heads snapping in the direction of the door.

“How’s the summer reading coming?” Asked Lena. Jude and Connor both looked at each other with a sideways glance, then back at Lena, their faces both turning into deep shades of crimson.

“I ah…” “we were…” Connor and Jude both stuttered, trying to find something to say.
“Don’t worry boys…” Lena interjected “you aren’t the first and won’t be the last ones that I have walked in on… studying. I just came up to tell you dinner would be ready in about 15 minutes, okay?”
“Yes!” “Sounds good.” Jude and Connor quickly replied at the exact same time.
“Okay, see you guys down there.” Lena began to walk away, then turned back “Just a reminder… this door stays open at all times right?”
Jude and Connor’s faces grew even redder. “Yes ma’am” they both said as Lena walked away. 

As soon as Lena was out of sight, both Connor and Jude bust out laughing. “Oh my God, that was the worst!” said Jude through his laughter.
“I don’t know… I thought it was pretty amazing actually.” Replied Connor, still chuckling a little as he leaned back on his arms while glancing back at Jude.
“You thought being caught making out by my mom was amazing?”

“I thought making out with you was amazing.” Connor had regained his composure and now had a look of total bliss as he looked toward Jude. His face was still a little flushed; especially his cheeks from the laughter, and his eyes seemed to twinkle with happiness. 

Jude returned Connor’s gaze, regaining some of his own composure as well. “Really, you thought it was amazing?”
“Jude Adams-Foster, as it turns out not only are you not a bad kisser… you’re the best I’ve ever had.”
“What, compared to Daria?”
“Oh suddenly my experience doesn’t matter.”
“Well, you’re pretty good yourself Mr. Stevens.”
“Pretty good! I’m definitely the best you’ve ever had!”
Jude and Connor started laughing again, this time their eyes stayed locked. “So um… we should probably get back to our summer reading.” Said Jude.
“Right, or…” Started Connor, moving his head in toward Jude’s again “I mean, how much can we actually read in 15 minutes?” He pushed Jude onto his back and slid up to meet his lips with this own again, planting gentle kisses.

Jude was trying to speak, but could only get a few words out between kisses. “Well…” *kiss* “I guess we could” *kiss* “but after dinner” *kiss* “we need to…” and that was as far as he got before their lips were once again locked and all other thoughts seemed to slip away. Just one seemed to linger… “maybe we should skip dinner…”

SK8TER BOI challenge: Cas was a punk, Sam did ballet

Author’s Note: This fic is part of a fun and friendly competition between myself and holydarkhallelujah and moderated by constellationsammy and demisexualsammy

Their fic is: HERE 

and below, you’ll find mine…


The loud clattering noise made Sam jump in his seat, losing the page in the book he was reading. With a sigh, he looked up and saw the clatter had been a lunch tray hitting the table and it belonged to a boy he’d seen around school but never talked to before.

It was the kid with the blue eyes and half of his hair shaved while the other half hung in blue and green locks over the right side of his head. He always wore baggy black pants with lots of chains and pockets and his t-shirts had sayings that were almost, but not quite, inappropriate for high school.

“Can I help you?” Sam asked. 

The colorful boy grinned and sat down directly across from Sam. Sam wrinkled his nose obvious distaste and wondered why this boy was intruding on his space.

“I’m Castiel." 

"I’ve seen you around school.”

“You’re Sam Winchester.”

“There are plenty of other tables where your company would be welcome.” Sam lifted his book back up to his face to block out the offending company only to have it pushed back down. Castiel was leaning forward with his hands on Sam’s book.

“But I want to spend time with you.”

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