but i would never get something that big

anonymous asked:

Hya there could I get a headcanon in which Tfa Starscream , Lugnut and Blitzwing would react to there human s/o who is sad and depressed and is need of comfort ? Keep up the good work !

Starscream (TFA): Ok look, Starscream is just really bad at this. Like, the worst. He’s never really had to do it before so he doesn’t know what to do. He’ll awkwardly pat your back or something like, “There…there”.

Lugnut (TFA): Look out, here come the big guns! He’s ready to do anything to get you feeling better. Want some blankets? He just raided a Bed Bath and Beyond. Want some snuggles? He’ll hold you tight and never let go.

Blitzwing (TFA): Oh no no no no no, don’t be sad! Look at this funny face! He’s almost desperate to get you feeling better and Random’s in command the whole time. At least one candy shop is looted that day.

dating advice: the “captain america” rule

Context: I grew up in a family of nerds, and superheroes were always a really big part of my childhood. Captain America was a favorite, and he kind of became my family’s standard for good behavior and just generally being a Nice Person. (If one of the kids started a fight they’d get hit with, “What would Captain America think of how you’re acting?”, stuff like that.)

So when I got to high school and started dating, my mom told me something that sounds funny but in retrospect actually turned out to be really good advice:

“Date someone who treats you the way Captain America would. Never settle for less.” 

And this has actually helped me so much in my dating life, through high school and into my adult years, because even if it’s a little silly, it’s been really helpful to have that standard in the back of my mind when I’m first going into a relationship. 

Would Captain America ignore my calls? Would Captain America forget my birthday? Would Captain America get mad at me for cancelling a date because a family emergency came up? If the answer is no, then I know that the person I’m currently dating does not meet my standards, and that I need to break things off before they get too serious.

And your standard absolutely does not have to be Captain America, specifically. It can be any person, male or female, real or fictional, who is known for being respectful and considerate. It can even be an imaginary “soulmate” that you make up yourself. The point is to have a specific idea of how you expect to be treated by your romantic partners, and to refuse to compromise or settle for less. (Just make sure you’re holding yourself to the same standards – you can’t expect to date superheroes if you’re going to treat your partners the way a supervillain would.) This is a really good way to keep yourself from falling into bad relationships where you aren’t treated with the respect and care you deserve.

TL;DR: You deserve to date people who are respectful and considerate of you. You deserve a Captain America. Don’t settle for less. 

10

#two very different relationships for shaw yet both so important #they both loved her so much but in different ways (one platonically and the other romantically) and its big because for someone that always thought something was wrong with her and no one would ever take the time to GET her #she ended up gaining two people that legit would’ve died for her and vice versa #they BOTH understood her and never judged her and loved her exactly the way she was #not to mention root and reese’s love for her even helped THEM bond in a way that made them start to care about each other #i just have a lot of feelings about these three tbh

Will Alec be giving Magnus some pretty flowers? Come on, look. Alec is… although he’s trying to be a romantic type… you know, in whatever version of that he can figure out… he's–he’s not. And he’s never gonna get it, you know? The charm from Alec doesn’t come from the flowers that he brings. One day, he would bring flowers, like because he saw that that was something he should do. And he brings flowers, and then it’s like kind of not really delivered right and he feels a little weird about it. He delivers the flowers and then they say – and then Magnus says, “Oh these are really sweet.“ And he goes, “Yeah, yeah, they’re pretty sweet. I found them. I found them on the side of the road. Whatever. It’s not a big deal.” Cause he wants to be humble about it but he doesn’t know how. And then Magnus is like, “Okay, well that’s sweet – you found road flowers for me?” He goes, “No, actually, I bought them.” He says, “Why’d you lie?” and then it becomes a whole thing, and it’s like, "Well, flowers. Here.” “Okay.
—  Matt Daddario and his impromptu Malec fic x
We’ll Be Blind And Dumb

Pairing: Keith/Lance (Voltron Legendary Defender)

Rating: T

Warnings/Tags: blind!Lance AU, one shot, angst, lots of angst, langst, Lance’s family, character study

Words: 4492


The air in space is different - it’s thicker, dryer, and most importantly, carries sound differently. It takes him a while to learn to navigate the castle, since the light is different too.

His vision started declining when he was eight years old. From the week after Easter and forward, Lance’s vision got steadily worse. It started with blurring of his peripheral, then moved to the rest of his eyes - like someone was glazing them over, covering his corneas with a layer of matte paint. It got worse and worse, until all he saw were shadows and highlights. Lance has been living with this disability for years now, so he knows how to handle it.

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Hit Me Like A Ray Of Sun

“Bitty. Holy fuck.”

Bitty’s eyes fly open.

Ransom is only an inch from his face.

“Wake up, Bits.”

Bitty groans and holds onto the blankets but Ransom gets a good grip on them and rips them all off at once.

“Justin Oluransi I swear if you don’t let me sleep I’m never making pie for you again. I mean it. I need my rest. I was up late studying.”

Ransom snorts.

“I was to studying.” He only talked to Jack for ten minutes. Fifteen tops. “And if you don’t let me sleep for the remaining 25 minutes that I am allowed I am taking every single piece of dessert that I make here and bringing it to the LAX house. You’re going to ruin it for everyone.”

“Jeeze,” Ransom says with a roll of his eyes. “So dramatic. Just like your boyfriend.”

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A white guy’s thoughts on “Get Out” and racism

This weekend, I went to see a horror movie. It got stuck in my head, and now I can’t stop thinking about it—but not for any of the reasons you might think.

The movie was Jordan Peele’s new hit Get Out, which has gotten rave reviews from critics—an incredible 99% on Rotten Tomatoes—and has a lot of people talking about its themes.

First of all, I should tell you that I hate horror movies. As a general rule, I stay far, far away from them, but after everything I’d read, I felt like this was an important film for me to see. This trailer might give you some inkling as to why:

Creepy, huh? You might know writer/director Jordan Peele as part of the comedy duo Key & Peele, known for smartly tackling societal issues through sketch comedy. Get Out is a horror movie, but it’s also a film about race in America, and it’s impressively multilayered.

I left the theater feeling deeply disturbed but glad this movie was made. I can’t say any more without revealing spoilers, so if you haven’t seen the movie yet and you don’t want to have the plot spoiled for you, stop reading now and come back later.

Seriously, this is your last chance before I give away what happens.

Okay, you were warned. Here we go.

Our protagonist is Chris Washington, a young black man who has been dating Rose Armitage, a young white woman, for the last four months. She wants him to meet her family, but he’s hesitant. She acknowledges that her dad can be a little awkward on the subject of race, but assures Chris that he means well.

After unnerving encounters with a deer (echoes of The Invitation) and a racist cop, Chris and Rose arrive at the Armitages’ estate. On the surface, the Armitages are very friendly, but the conversation (brilliantly scripted by Peele) includes a lot of the little, everyday, get-under-your-skin moments of racism that people of color have to contend with: Rose’s dad going on about how he voted for Obama, for instance, and asking how long “this thang” has been going on. Chris laughs it off to be polite, though he clearly feels uncomfortable.

There’s a fantastic moment here, by the way, when Rose’s dad offhandedly mentions that they had to close off the basement because of “black mold.” In the midst of the racially charged atmosphere of the conversation, it’s nearly impossible not to take this as a racial remark, and Chris certainly notices, but what could he possibly say about it? Black mold is a real thing; his girlfriend would surely think he was crazy and oversensitive if he said it sounded racist. Chris never reacts to the remark, but that one tiny moment is a reminder to the audience of a real problem people of color often face, when racism can’t be called out without being accused of “playing the race card” or seeing things that aren’t there. (Incidentally, it turns out that the basement is actually used for molding of a different sort.)

There are other reasons for Chris to be unsettled: The only other black people on the estate are two servants, Georgina and Walter (Rose’s dad says he knows how bad it looks, but that it’s not what it seems), and something is clearly “off” about them. Later, more white people show up—and one more black character, and he, too, feels “off.”

By the end of the film, we learn the horrible secret: Rose’s family is kidnapping and luring black people to their estate, where they’re being hypnotized and psychologically trapped inside themselves—Rose’s mom calls it “the sunken place”—so that old or disabled white people’s consciousnesses can be transplanted into their bodies. The white people are then able to move about, controlling their new black bodies, with the black person’s consciousness along for the ride as a mere “passenger.” In a shocking twist, it turns out that even apparently-sweet Rose is in on the plot, and Chris must fight her and the rest of her family to escape.

This isn’t a “white people are evil” film, although it may sound that way at first, but it is a film about racism. I know many of my friends of color will connect with this movie in a way I can’t, so I won’t try to say what I think they’ll get out of it. I do want to say how I connected with it, though, because I think what Jordan Peele has done here is really important for white audiences. 

If you look beyond the surface horror-movie plot, this film actually gives white people a tiny peek at the reality of racism—not the epithet-shouting neo-Nazi kind of racism that white people normally imagine when we hear “racism,” but the “Oh it’s so nice to meet you; I voted for Obama” kind of racism, the subtle othering that expects people of color to smile and get along and adopt white culture as their own whenever they’re around white people.

So many of the moments in Get Out are clearly intended to work on multiple levels. When Chris confronts Georgina about something being wrong and she smiles and says, “No, no no no no no,” with tears streaming down her cheeks, the symbolism is blatant. How often do people of color have to ignore the subtle indignities they face and hide their true emotions in order to avoid coming across as, for example, “the angry black woman/man”? How many times do they find themselves in social situations—even with their closest white friends!—where people make little comments tying them to an “exotic,” supposedly monolithic culture, where they have to respond with a smile and a laugh instead of telling people how stupid and offensive they’re being? 

I can’t tell you the number of these stories I’ve heard from my friends, and I’m quite sure that the stories I’ve heard are only a tiny fraction of the stories that could be told. So there’s something in that moment that speaks volumes about the experiences of people of color in America.

The same is true for so many other moments. The black characters Chris meets at the Armitages’ have all symbolically given up their identities and conformed to white culture; when Chris meets one character, he turns out to be going under a new name, with new clothes and new mannerisms; when Chris offers him a fist bump, he tries to shake Chris’s fist. Again, within the story, there’s an explanation for all this, but every moment here is also about assimilation and culture differences. 

For me as a white audience member, all of these moments did something remarkable: They showed me my own culture—a culture I’m often blissfully unaware of because it’s all around me—as something alien. They reminded me that I, too, have a culture, and that expecting everyone else to assimilate to my culture is just as much an erasing of their identities as it would be to expect me to assimilate to someone else’s culture.

And that’s a big part of what Get Out is about—the erasing of identities, and the power of racism to destroy people. I think it’s really significant that racism is portrayed here very differently from how it’s normally portrayed in movies written by white people. In most Hollywood movies, you know a character is racist because they shout racial epithets or make blatant statements about a certain race’s inferiority. That allows white audiences to say, “I would never do/say that, so I’m not racist!” We really don’t want to think we are.

But notice something important about Get Out’s treatment of racism: This is a film about the literal enslavement of black people—racism doesn’t get more extreme than that—and yet Peele doesn’t go for the obvious by having the white characters admit that they think black people are inferior; instead, they subjugate and dehumanize people by claiming to admire things about them. They turn them into fashion accessories. 

When Chris asks why only black people are being targeted for this procedure, the response is telling: It’s not (supposedly) because the white characters think African Americans are bad, but rather, because they like certain things about them and they want “a change” for themselves. They want to become black—it’s trendy, we’re told!—but without having had any of the actual life experiences or history of African Americans. White people need to see this: to experience the ways in which Chris is othered by people who tell him all the things they like about him—isn’t he strong? Look at those muscles! Does he play golf like Tiger Woods? And he must be well-endowed and have such sexual prowess, right, Rose?

The white people in the audience need to be reminded that just because you’re saying positive things about someone doesn’t mean you’re not being racist, that turning someone into an exotic “other” may not be the same as shouting an epithet, but it’s still taking away someone’s identity and treating them as a commodity.

The film is filled with these kinds of moments. When we realize that Rose’s white grandmother has inhabited the body of Georgina, the fact that she keeps touching her own hair and admiring herself in the mirror takes on a whole new level of significance. (White people, please don’t ask to touch your black friends’ hair.) When Chris connects with a dying deer on the side of the road and later sees a deer head mounted on the wall at the Armitages’ estate, the symbolism is hard to miss. Black people are being turned into trophies in this house. And, oh yeah, they’re being literally auctioned off—as they were in real life in the not-too-distant past.

One day, I’d like to see the film again to pick up on all the ways things read differently the second time through. I noticed several things in retrospect that gain new significance once you know the ending, and I’m sure there’s a lot I didn’t notice. For example, Rose’s dad says he hired Walter and Georgina to care for his parents, and when his parents died, “I couldn’t bear to let them go.” The first time you see the film, it sounds like the “them” is Walter and Georgina. But in retrospect, it’s clear the “them” he couldn’t bear to let go was his parents, so he sacrificed Walter and Georgina for them. Which, again, is an example of how the supposed care of the white characters for the black characters (his care for Walter and Georgina, Rose’s care for Chris) is really all about caring for themselves and treating the black characters as completely interchangeable objects.

The message of the film isn’t simply that the black characters are “good” and the white characters are “bad.” There are presumably—hopefully—many good white people in the world of this film, and many others who wouldn’t do what the Armitages are doing but also probably wouldn’t believe Chris or make the effort to stop it. Peele’s mother and wife are both white, so he’s clearly not trying to paint all white people as villains. 

But I admit, as a white guy, I really, really wanted Rose to be good. I’ve been the white person in an interracial relationship introducing my black boyfriend to my family. I’ve been that. So I related to Rose, and I really wanted to believe that she was well-intentioned and just oblivious; even though she misses the mark on several occasions, there are times that she seems like she gets it and she really does listen to Chris. When a cop asks to see Chris’s ID early in the film even though he wasn’t driving, Rose stands up against the obvious racism, showing us all what it looks like for white people to do the right thing. “That was hot,” Chris says to her later, and I thought, yeah, that’s who I want to be.

So I have to admit, it was really upsetting to me to see Rose, the only good white character left in the film, turn out to be evil. But I realized that part of that is that I really wanted her to represent me, and that’s really the point. Just think how often horror films have only one black character who dies early on, and how many films of all genres have no significant black characters for audience members to look up to or identify with. I think it’s really important for white audiences to experience that.

As I’ve reflected on the film, it seems to me like there are three kinds of popular movies about people of color. There are those that feature POC characters that are essentially indistinguishable from the white characters—as if they just decided to cast Morgan Freeman instead of Tom Hanks without giving any thought to the character’s race. Then there are the movies that deal with racism, but in a way that allows white people to feel good about ourselves, because we’re not like the characters in the film. (This is especially true for movies about racism in the past; some of them are very important films, like Hidden Figures, which I loved, but we need to be aware that it’s still easy for white America to treat it as a feel-good film and think that we’re off the hook because we no longer have separate restrooms.) And finally, there are movies that focus more directly on the lives of people of color but tend to draw largely audiences of color; not many white people go see them, because we think they’re not “for us” (even though we assume films about white people are for everyone).

Get Out isn’t any of those. It’s drawing a broad audience but it’s not afraid to make white people uncomfortable. And if you can give me, a white guy, a chance to have even a momentary fraction of an experience of the real-life, modern-day, casual racism facing people of color in America, I think that’s a very good thing.

In Regards to Hate: On Victuuri

I don’t know what suddenly happened again but there’s a shitton of hate for Victuuri/Viktuuri(/etc) in the tags lately. People are welcome to feel however they want for a particular ship, but I just wanted to give my two cents by tackling the common complaints I’ve seen. I’ll start from the beginning so I’ll be addressing basically all the arguments against this ship I’ve seen so far. I’ve tried to maintain some sort of order for these, but honestly I just winged it at some point.  A lot of these arguments are also heavily character-based, so keep in mind that I’ll be deconstructing several scenes as well as character motivations as I go.  (As a note, this assumes you’ve seen the whole show. Also, I’m only using canon evidence from the show itself.)

This is like an informal follow-up to my super old post but also not really.

No I’m not avoiding work why would you say that.

WARNING: This is a massive post/wall of text. Grab popcorn.

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Lie to me? Steal my work? Have fun going from 52K a year to minimum wages.

(warning: long story)

Takes place back in 2014, long read with a lot of buildup to revenge. I was about a year into my job and was being recognized for my talents and promoted pretty regularly. I was constantly being used as the liaison between my company and the client companies we had business and contracts with, and literally have saved our contract companies hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Then I was approached by Amy, who was in another department, for a job opportunity in the next month or so. She was going out on medical leave and was going to train me to take over her position in the interim and then fully take it over once she came back and moved into a new role. I was ecstatic because I knew she had a salary position and that’s what I really wanted. Most of the salaried positions in the company were the kind you had direct reports and in my industry there is a lot of stupid and handholding so I was not looking forward to have to deal with that stuff, but here was this angel offering me the salary I wanted and the stepping stone I wanted to get further in the company, all without having to deal with stupidity on a daily basis! So for the next 3 weeks I’m pulled from my current duties about twice a week to train in her position. In the beginning it was really menial stuff to get aquatinted with her department but then we started getting into the bigger Excel stuff. Now her job was 90% Excel based, but in having her teach me her job and the duties and deadlines for certain things I realized she was basically flying by with basic Excel knowledge (I’m taking formulas to do math and VLOOKUPs were the majority of what she used in EVERYTHING). Now I was really okay with it and knew I could bring a lot more to the position with my knowledge and really help out the management team and showcase my expertise to them.

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anonymous asked:

buck if the avengers were animals what animals would they be???? thank you

i assume you mean based on personality, and not which avengers have been turned into which animals lately.
what has happened to my life that that is even a question i have to ask??

anyway, steve would be a dog. everyone is right on the money on that one; hed be big, fluffy, loyal as hell, appetite the size of rhode island and love to play fetch. and also have the bite power to sever a mans hand if he was so inclined. you would trust him with a baby but also to eat the face off anyone who threatened that baby. well. maybe not EAT. he does have SOME standards. theoretically.

tony would be a raven. reputation associated with death, but personality of a class clown–likes pranks, messing with people, and trying new stuff. dedicated to family and intelligent as hell. chatty. tool user. did you know ravens can people-talk? if they couldnt, im sure tony would figure out how anyways.

nat would be a swan. beautiful, graceful, but at the top of the do-not-fuck-with list in most animals books. mates for life and more loyal than you would think, with a take no shit and no prisoners attitude. i have a healthy terror of swans, as does any sane human being.

clint would also be a dog, but not like steve. hed be one of those scrappy little terrier mutts that descend from a working breed that are supposed to do things like kill rats. just as loyal and smart and fun-loving as the big guys, but makes up for lack of size with pure tenacity. and so scruffy its cute.

bruce would be an elephant. smart and social, with strong emotional bonds, generally calm and compassionate, but never something you want to be standing in front of when it gets pissed. also really enjoys peanuts?

thor would be a lion. content to chill out most of the time, and more social than most cats, but also totally down to throw down on a moment’s notice. pretty smart but not somebody you ever wanna cross. majestic as anything. 

i would be a bear. likes a lot of food in large quantities, and i would love to sit in a river and let dinner fling itself into my mouth. asleep like half of the time. big and badass but generally pretty chill, and smarter than you might think. also a faster runner than you might expect (that’s not really about me, bears can just run at like 35 mph which is a thought to keep you up at night.) and if theres one thing everyone knows about bears, it is that you do not mess with what they are protecting.
also they are opposed to forest fires?? not sure what that has to do with anything, but i guess i can get behind it

2

Remember that time Goku rejected food cause he wanted to get rid of the fire that was destroying his fiance’s castle and trapping his father in law. That’s love man. 😘 When it comes to family/ wife he don’t mess around 

8

Remind me again when your faves got an entire themed press day on Valentine’s Day dedicated to their fictional same sex soap wedding filled with tacky but incredible heart decorations, food, cake, cocktails named after them and their life, and a game of Mr and Mr????

Emmerdale making Danny and Ryan sit with the media surrounded by the cringiest yet cutest and most bizarre celebrations; having to look at their own faces and watch themselves get married… I just can’t believe this was actually a thing lmao. This team are my absolute heroes. They’ve never been so extra but to have this much fuss and to create such big hype for something that was once shamed upon is amazing. HOW ICONIC, HOW SURREAL, I’M WEIRDLY SUPER PROUD.

I was thinking about how sea salt that you boil in to crystals yourself is so much more potent….and I was writing about maple wine, so it all got me thinking about maple syrup/maple sugar. In some ways, maple sugar and sea salt are perfect opposites – what appears to be clear, pure water, boiled unrecognizable, emerging crystalline, the only difference salty or sweet. And making maple syrup/sugar is a PROCESS: gathering buckets of sap from around the woods, stumbling over snow banks and bushes to bring it to the sugar shack, boiling the sap and constantly feeding the fire for hours and days, going through more wood than you could imagine and watching a gradient of amber spread through the pans, darkening in to rich sweet syrup. If you want to make sugar, you take it boil it even more, evaporating the last of the water in it, the last memory of how it used to flow in a forests’ veins. It takes some 40-80 gallons of sap to make a gallon of syrup, more to make sugar. And making syrup with someone gets real…for a time, you’re popping in and out to go collect the rest of the buckets, but after a while it’s just you and them in a small, maple steam filled shed, usually drinking something homemade and of questionable alcohol content, talking through the day and the night. Or by yourself, with your thoughts and your wishes and your ghosts, though I’ve never done this for long, just fractions of an hour, unlike friends who have spent days there boiling away heart break or trying to get their head and pans level. 

If you need something strong to protect you, you can’t do much better than homemade sea salt. But if you need to barter something, to trade for something big and important and true, I wonder if a homemade maple sugar candy might get you what you’re looking for. 

I imagine you bring it to the edge of the forest. Or more likely, that corner of the dining hall where no matter what hour of the day someone is drinking coffee and almost done a paper they never seem to finish. All the right words… “if it would please you,” what you seek, and their reply, “and in exchange?” So you make your offer: the blood of a forest’s platoon impervious to their wounds, a fire tended, a confession you would never have made otherwise, a week of your life. They are delighted, to get so much for what now seems like so little, and greedily they reach towards you, ready to take what you have promised, and before their hands, or not exactly hands anymore, can find you – you place it on the table. A small maple sugar candy. You’ve pressed it in to a maple leaf mold because hell, if you’re gonna do this you may as well do it right. The air freezes for a second, and you feel your blood still as you wonder if you have misjudged…and then you feel it begin to thaw, the sap to run again. It smiles at you. It doesn’t mind clever, and fortunately for you, it’s a fan of sweet.

[x]

Can I ask you something?

You looked up from your research to see your little brother stood at the other end of the table.

The kid was only nine, but you hadn’t heard him coming until he’d asked you a question. The stealth he had at such a young age was borderline terrifying.

“What?” you asked, closing your father’s journal that you were copying new information down into in order to give him your full focus.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked again, the hand-me-down flannel from you and then Dean too big on his skinny frame.

“About what?” you questioned, kicking out the chair next to you so that he knew it was okay to sit down.

Sam walked over slowly, carefully taking a seat.

“Something… about Mom,” he clarified, and you sighed.

You were his age when your mother had died in the fire.

You had fond memories of home - of your mom and dad being an ‘ordinary’ mom and dad - that Sam would never get to experience and every time you thought about it, your heart began to hurt.

“I’m sorry, I’ll- I’ll go,” Sam mumbled, pushing his chair back from the table with a loud scrape. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

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Chapter 6

║ch1║ ║ch2║ ║ch3║║ch4║║ch5║

Mystic Messenger High School AU

Word Count: 1,312

~Yep, that’s right. Another chapter. I told you I’d write more! Hm? Didn’t believe me? Well…I guess I don’t blame you. It’s been forever, after all. Haha. Anyway, I hope that you guys enjoy. I think from here on out I can go one of two ways. I can keep the ending how I originally planned…OR I can kinda experiment a bit….with something I’ve been testing recently. I haven’t quite decided yet. Regardless, stay tuned! I really hope you guys like this chapter^^ 


Your hands grasped the fabric of the hoodie as you smiled. Saeyoung took the seat in front of you, the moonlight reflecting off of his glasses.

“It’s a beautiful night,” you finally spoke up in an effort to break the silence.

“Ya,” he smiled momentarily before turning back to the sky, “these are some of my favorite nights. You can really see the stars.”

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system that had you feeling so bold, or the feeling of happiness flowing through you? You couldn’t remember the last time you had a night as fun as this. Being away from home, surrounded by people who all seemed to be having a good time, really filled you with a strange sense of warmth and comfort. And of course…being around people you had started to feel close to. People like Saeran…and Saeyoung…

“Do you like Astronomy?” you took another sip of your wine, not wanting to slow down despite that dizzy feeling.

“Mmhm,” he nodded, “always have. When we were younger…well, Saeran and I could never afford telescopes. So, we would use the rolls from paper towels and pretend that it helped us see closer. We’d look out of our bedroom window and try to identify the constellations.”

He seemed to look away with this sudden admission, was he blushing? It was hard to imagine him and Saeran as small children, peering out of their windows in hopes of a glimpse of something greater.

“So, you know a lot of constellations, then?” you asked.

“Of course,” he chuckled lightly.

He urged you to the side of the yacht, his hand lightly pressing at your back to guide you. For some reason your heart was racing at his touch. This was different than working with him at the ice cream shop. His long arm pointed up to a series of stars above you.

“See that? It’s Ursa Major,” he says proudly.

You’re extremely aware of how close he has gotten to you. For the rest of the night, despite the noise and uproar of the party behind you, you spend the majority of the evening quietly looking at the sky between Saeyoung’s refills of your glass. You just listen to him talk as he points out various things. It’s pretty obvious that he likes to show off his knowledge and this makes your smile beam for him. It reminded you of Saeran when he talked about art. They were both passionate in their own way. What a pair they made…Before you knew it, you were starting to teeter backwards on your heels.  

“Woah, there!” Saeyoung grabbed you to hold you steady, “maybe we should sit down?”

“I’m sorry, I guess I’ve had a little more than I anticipated,” you say as he helps you into your seat again, “hey! I wanted to ask you though…”

“Hm? What about?”

It felt like the right time of the night to bring it up. You clumsily set your glass down and looked at him as you spoke.

“Is Yoosung always so careless like that?” you asked.

“Says the girl who almost just fell on her ass, drunk,” he let out a deep laugh.

“I’m serious!” you tried to be mad but ended up laughing along with him, he was right…after all.

“For real, though…” he got more serious, “he’s been a little more reckless lately.”

You leaned in a bit…eager to hear more out of concern. Saeyoung let out a sigh, pushing up his glasses onto the bridge of his nose as he thought about what to say next.

“He was really close to his cousin and…she passed away not too long ago,” he continues, “Yoosung has been a bit of a mess ever since. Saeran and I take turns kinda watching over him. But, the old Yoosung would have never acted like he did tonight,” Saeyoung looked away with a hint of sadness in his eyes. “He’ll go back to his old self one day though. I know it. He just needs to get passed this,” he said brightly.

“He mentioned something like that to me the other day,” you replied, “not about his cousin though…that’s so sad. Anyway, it’s why I asked. I’m sorry if it seemed like I was prying.”

“Nah, don’t worry,” he waved it off like it wasn’t a big deal, “anyway, we know how to deal with him. So don’t worry, okay?” he smiled.

You nodded back and continued talking about work and your various school projects you both had coming up. It was really nice to get to know him better, and to know more about Yoosung, too. You never would have guessed.

Picking up your wine glass and bringing it to your lips, you made an effort to drink what was left in the glass.

“Okay…I think that’s enough,” Saeyoung laughed.

“What? Why?” you asked as he pulled the stemware out of your hand.

“Because half of that sip ended up on your shirt,” he replied while taking a photo with his phone.

He was right. Shit. As you looked down you saw a bright red stain on your shirt. Wiping your face in embarrassment you tried to fight him for his phone.

“Erase it!” you yelled as your hands grabbed at his cell.

No matter how hard you tried, he was beating you with ease. Your every move was batted away with one of his hands, all the while he had a shit-eating grin on his face, enjoying every second.

“I’ll delete it if you let me take you home. It’s a school night and it’s already pretty late.”

All you could muster was a nod.

“Are…you okay to drive?” you asked.

“I haven’t had anything but water and some soda,” he replied.

Helping you to the car, he was careful not to drive too fast.

“If you throw up in here, V is going to kill me,” Saeyoung nudged you.

“I’m not THAT drunk,” you slapped his hand away, “just sleepy…”

Saeyoung watched you nod off in the passengers seat. The street lights flashed over your face rhythmically. Every now and again he would glance over, reveling in your soft features and peaceful disposition.

He hadn’t even opened the passengers side door from the curb when he heard your parents arguing inside. Their shouts were clear as if they were on the lawn. His heart was stuck in his throat. He knew all too well what it felt like to live in a household like this. His eyes peered down with sadness as you slept.

“Hey…” he tried to wake you up,” your parents sound like they’re fighting?”

“What else is new,” you said in your sleep.

‘Hah, sarcastic as ever’, he thought. 

He couldn’t let you go home like this. Not with them arguing…And Saeran’s room would be free since he was staying with Yoosung…

He knew his mom would be passed out by now, so she wouldn’t even notice.

Getting back in the car he continued a bit further until he reached his house. Hopefully you wouldn’t freak too much when you woke up.

“Come on,” he encouraged you to get out of the car, “do you mind staying in Saeran’s room for the night?”

You shook your head ‘no’ and he helped you inside while carrying your bag. Luckily, Saeran’s room was pretty clean. He pulled the blanket up over you after you lay in bed.

“Thank you…I’m going to bed now,” you spoke in a soft voice.

He couldn’t help but caress your hair back a bit as you sighed in your sleep. He was used to taking care of Saeran. And now, even Yoosung…but this was different. He pulled his hand back, remembering Saeran’s feelings for you.

Damn it,” his hand balled into a fist.

Why did it have to be this way.

Just a bit fluff for today. AU where Sherlock finds a kitten and John is a veterinarian :)
I hope you like it!



One day Sherlock found a kitten.

Or the kitten found him.

It was a stormy day in April, and Sherlock was on his way home.
He ran down the street, his shoulders raised against the strong wind, and then he heard it.

A barely audible meowing coming from a car.

Frowning, he stopped and squinted, as he heard the sound again.

Hesitantly, he bent down and glanced under the car.

Out of the shadows, two wide open eyes flashed towards him, and he heard another, this time clearly frightened, moew. There was a small, shaggy kitten sitting there, huddled under the car.

“Oh,” Sherlock said quietly and went to his knees. “What are you doing down there?”

He cautiously reached out for the small bundle of fur. The kitten back a little, away from his fingers, and meowed miserably.

“It’s all fine,” whispered Sherlock. “I won’t hurt you.”

The kitten continued to gaze at him with wide-open eyes.

“Come here.” Sherlock stretched further under the car, and finally, the kitten cautiously sniffed his fingers. “That’s it, I’m not going to hurt you,” Sherlock said softly, stretching his second arm under the car too. When he took the kitten, it squealed, but didn’t try to run away. Sherlock pulled it out and frowned.

Bright, blue eyes looked at him from a dirty, grey face. The animal was very thin and ruffled. Sherlock could see blood on one leg. He sighed. “What am I going to do with you, huh?”

The kitten meowed softly and fidgeted with its paws.
“No, no, none of that,” Sherlock muttered, pressing the animal carefully against his chest. He got up and looked around the street, uncertain. The next moment he saw a sign with “veterinarian this way” and he sighed with relief.
“Let’s have you checked out, hm?" 

*

John Watson had just treated his last patient - a bulldog with a heavy cold - as his assistant pooped into the room.

"There’s another one, doctor.”

John frowned. “Wasn’t that the last appointment for today?”

“Yes, the young man in the waiting room says it’s an emergency. Found a kitten on the street. ”

“Oh,” John nodded. “Call him in.”

The man, who stormed into the treatment room a few seconds later, took John’s breath away.
He was tall and slim. Dark curls hung wildly into his pale face, from which bright blue - no silver - or green? - eyes beamed. He had prominent cheekbones and full lips.
In his arms, he had a gray bundle of fur, that he passed over to John immediately. “Here.”

John blinked, completely puzzled, and cleared his throat. “Uhm, good evening, Mister …”

“Sherlock Holmes,” said the man impatiently. “Sherlock is enough.”

“Sherlock. You found the kitten … ”

“It was under a car. I heard it meowing.”

“It was very nice of you to bring the kitten here,” John said as he gently took the small gray kitten from Sherlock. “Not everyone cares for a lonely, hurt animal on the street.”
Sherlock glared at him, then shrugged. He seemed a bit embarrassed. “I … well, I thought it was just the logical decision to bring it here. Because, if it dies down there, it might attract flies.” He wrinkled his nose. “And … other vermin.”

“Sure.” John nodded and smiled. He didn’t believe for a second that the man didn’t care about the life of the tiny creature.

He weighed the kitten and did some basic examinations. It was a girl. Unhealthy, a little chilled and an injured leg. Fortunately, the wound was not inflamed. John disinfected it and bandaged it carefully. He also gave the cat the basic vaccinations she surely didn’t have.Then he smiled at Sherlock, who had watched the whole procedure silently.

“She’s not that badly off. She desperately needs something to eat and drink. I’ll give you antibiotics for the wound. ”

“I … Wait a minute, I can’t …” Sherlock looked puzzled and shook his head hastily. “I can’t keep her,” he muttered, looking aside.

“Why not? She seems to like you very much,” said John, laughing as the kitten clumsily marched on Sherlock and meowed emphatically. “You see? It seems to me that you have been chosen.”

Sherlock looked down at the kitten and frowned. “I don’t know if … my landlady … and …”

John laughed and picked up the kitten. He placed it back into Sherlock’s arms, who looked down into the small bundle of fur, who was beginning to snuggle up and comfortably closed her eyes. He swallowed.

“I’ll give you a carrier,” John explained. “And at the front desk you can get the medication.”

“I … thank you.” Sherlock lowered his head and smiled crookedly as the kitten rubbed her head against his chest.

For a moment, it was quiet.

For a moment, they were just standing there.

Then, John suddenly felt that he had to say something before it was too late. Before he let a chance pass, which might never come back. That he had to do something.

Before he actually realized it, the words were already out of his mouth.

“Would you like to have dinner tomorrow? I know a good Chinese … ”

Sherlock looked at him. With big, astonished eyes.

John swallowed.
Great, Watson. Now you have screwed it up again …

“Yes.”

John was so puzzled that he squeezed out a “what?”.

“Yes,” Sherlock repeated. “I’d like to have dinner with you.” And he smiled gently.

The kitten began to purr.



Corrected by my wonderful beta @bakerstreet-irregular

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anonymous asked:

1/3 i love your clexa writing and ive got a topic that isnt the nicest but im hoping youll still discuss it. lets not gloss over clarkes faults just cause shes the other half of our ship. we all know shes manipulative, cunning and stubborn. she has manipulated and used lexa more than once. i think these incidents all happened early on tho? so ok not so bad i guess? i dont like how she acted so hypocritically later on(killing Emerson), even tho she did come around. still, she went there. but my

biggest issue is when she proposed blood must not have blood. i have no doubt lexa made the choice cause its something shes always wanted as well. but did clarke fully know that? did clarke even consider the further risk to the grounders(more villages attacked) and to lexas very life this would bring? she seemed to be having a one track mind and only considering the well being of her people, not the grounders, not lexa. when titus out right tells her lexas life is at risk, she doesnt offer up anything. doesnt ask if theres anything that can be done to lessen the risk, doesnt propose a new compromise, doesnt seem concerned with anything other than making sure not one of her ppl are harmed. ‘including’(one must assume) the killers as well. it bothers me that she didnt seem too concerned with the risks this huge thing lexa was doing(cause she seemed shocked when lexa agreed, i dont think she knew how much lexa also wanted peace) was going to bring about upon lexa and her people

Ok um. I wouldn’t say she ever “used” Lexa. Tried to manipulate, yeah, but she never downright used her. And you’re right, the most memorable incidents happen early on, see Clarke’s bluff about being able to cure the Reapers, twisting and omitting certain events in regards to Anya’s death, trying (and failing) to convince Lexa to spare Finn. Clarke is good with words, she’s always been. She’s extremely clever and her power of persuasion is impressive. Think about all the characters she convinced to do something she wanted at least once by using the right words, from Bellamy to Nia the list could be endless.

You’re not the only one who has issues with how they handled “blood must not have blood”, so I’m not going to defend what happened 100%. But it’s pointless to criticize poor writing now, so I’m only going to focus on what we got in the show, not the what-ifs. Yes, Clarke definitely reflected on what to say to Lexa; as I said, she’s masterful at understanding what to say and how to say it depending on the circumstances. Her main concern when she first makes that proposition to Lexa is that her people survive. Clarke doesn’t want the people she loves and many other innocents to pay for the actions of a few. So she makes that shocking suggestion. But how shocking is it, really? How shocking is it for Lexa?

First, I want to focus on this brief exchange between Lexa and Indra. (x)

They are discussing about the best way to proceed, and as it’s clear from their grave voices and faces, the answer isn’t as simple as it appears. “In a day’s time we lay waste to Arkadia,” Lexa said right after finding out what happened. She was furious in that moment, and had the right to be. She found 300 of her people slaughtered for no reason, and Indra, one of her most trusted people, told her that Skaikru reject peace and demand land. So she calls for blood. But when her initial rage settles down and she starts thinking more logically about what her next move should be, we get this moment with Indra, and we see that she’s incredibly worried about what is supposed to be the obvious “solution” too. War. Because that’s not a simple solution at all, and the outcome is not at all certain. They have the numbers, sure, but Skaikru has guns. This never ending issue is even brought up again by Clarke in the latest ep of the show, when she’s negotiating with Roan.

It’s not as easy as it seems, Lexa knows that. That’s why she is so concerned. Not to mention that we have been told repeatedly in the show just how different Lexa is. It has been established that she is a visionary, that she doesn’t take joy in violence, that unlike her predecessors she doesn’t want war, she wants unity and peace.

Now, why am I saying all this? To show that Clarke’s proposition and Lexa’s subsequent decision don’t come out of the blue. Clarke doesn’t have to make her way in Lexa’s head and warp her thoughts: those thoughts are already there. I feel the need to bring up the script, because it makes what I’m trying to say even more evident.

See what I mean? Even if they come out on top, Lexa is well aware that there can be no winners in a clash of this kind. No matter who prevails, it will be a bloodbath anyway. And that’s when Clarke comes in. She gets there and suggests that Lexa changes things. Indra is quick to remind Clarke that blood must have blood, to which Clarke replies “Really? Because from where I stand the only way that ends is with everyone dead.” If you look at the script, that’s exactly what Lexa was thinking too, BEFORE Clarke said anything.

If we talk about attempts at manipulation, I actually would like to compare this scene to the conversation Clarke and Lexa have in 2x08, when Clarke is trying to convince Lexa to spare Finn. They start in a similar way.

  • 2x08

LEXA: You bleed for nothing. You can’t stop this.
CLARKE: No. Only you can.

  • 3x05

LEXA: Tell us, Clarke. How does this end? Have you come up with a way to save your people yet again?
CLARKE: No. Only you can do that.

Albeit extremely similar, note the difference there is already between these two exchanges. Yes, there is bitterness in Lexa’s voice, and maybe even the hint of sarcasm, but still, she is open to listening to what Clarke has to say, whereas in 2x08 she tells Clarke there’s no point in discussing (and bleeding). And then we get to the way Clarke tries to approach Lexa, which is strikingly different. (x)

Let’s focus on 2x08. Clarke goes for Lexa’s psyche. She takes that little information she received about Lexa, mixes it with her assumptions about how Grounders are, and she tries to use all that to influence Lexa and make her do what she wants, which is release Finn. What does she tell Lexa?

  1. To give a proof of her power. She is flattering Lexa, telling her she is powerful, hoping Lexa will be more easily convinced if she appreciates her strength.
  2. To show that she is merciful. She has already had proof of Lexa being a merciful person, and Lincoln confirmed it as well. So she shows Lexa she recognizes this characteristic that she has come to realize is important to Lexa, and encourages her to do something that will make other people consider her merciful too.
  3. To not act like a savage. She’s telling Lexa that that’s how her people will see her if she does this, not as the merciful leader, but as a barbarian basically. She is telling her to prove them wrong.

Clarke’s words fall flat, though. She is trying to influence Lexa’s decision, yes, with a speech that sounds very much like Clarke is saying Lexa can elevate herself from the “status” of savage that the Sky People have applied to the majority of the grounders. It all sounds too much like Lexa has to prove something to the Sky People, like it is important that Lexa impresses them positively, almost like she has to prove the good guys that she isn’t a bad guy. But Lexa doesn’t care about impressing them, definitely doesn’t care about the Sky People considering her a bad guy or a savage. “We are what we are.” She sees what Clarke is trying to do and she doesn’t fall for it. It’s not accidental that when Clarke stops trying to manipulate her and instead uses more personal arguments, Lexa doesn’t shut her down as coldly as she did at first but instead replies to her, “But Finn is guilty […] Then he dies for you.” and eventually even lets Clarke say goodbye.

So here you have the failed attempt at manipulation. Instead let’s look at 3x05 now.

There is no beating around the bush here. Clarke tells it like is. Her people did something horrible. And Clarke doesn’t even think about trying to justify them. She’s past that mentality of Sky People being better than Grounders that was still in place in 2x08 (even if progress had been made already). Here, she knows her people are in the wrong and what they did was awful. So no, I don’t think that she is trying to manipulate Lexa, even if only because she knows that Lexa is right in wanting justice. Of course Clarke is not going to say “Go ahead, kill them all.” There are people she loves in Arkadia, people she knows have nothing to do with what Pike and his group did. She talks to Lexa, she suggests an alternative to war (which we already saw it’s not what Lexa wants) and she argues her position with powerful words, because we’ve seen that Clarke is very good at doing that. But it’s all in Lexa’s hands really. Clarke never tries to insinuate her thoughts into Lexa’s mind. 

You know, I’m thinking about 2x08, about how Clarke told Lexa to prove herself, and I’m thinking about manipulation techniques. The events of Hakeldama take place a few days after Lexa bowed before Clarke and swore fealty to her. Now imagine if during her conversation with Lexa in 3x05, Clarke had said something like “Show me your words weren’t empty. Show me your vow is real.

THAT would have been a true attempt at manipulating Lexa. But it never happens. She doesn’t manipulate Lexa, she reasons with her. I think it’s important to notice that Clarke tried to reason with her people too in this same episode, and she failed. Her discussion with Bellamy was a complete disaster, and she couldn’t even get to Pike. Look at what she tells Lexa. (x)

Maybe it’s just me, but I’ve always considered this line right here pretty big. Clarke is placing her trust in Lexa here, she is trusting Lexa to do what her people didn’t, to be better than them. I don’t know, I’ve always found that a pretty huge deal. So no, I can’t really bring myself to say Clarke manipulated Lexa here.

As for what you said about not listening to Titus, I think it’s important to remember that their conversation takes place in 3x06, the episode that features the return of Emerson, who is the personification of Clarke’s demons. She is upset for the majority of the episode, she is so desperate to run away from what she did that she doesn’t think twice about agreeing with Titus that Emerson deserves death, basically going against everything she and Lexa discussed at the end of 3x05 and the beginning of 3x06. Is she being an hypocrite? Yes. And we’re supposed to see her as such, because we’re supposed to perceive how deeply her guilt is conditioning her. The narrative makes sure we see her hypocrisy, via Lexa’s words, “So blood must not have blood applies only when it is my people who bleed”, and Clarke’s reply to that sounds very much like a justification. So it’s not a surprise that she doesn’t listen to Titus when he comes talk to her in her room, she’s not in the right state of mind to do that. Also I would like to point out that this is Clarke’s face when Titus tells her Lexa’s life could be in danger. (x)

Even as upset as she is about Emerson, you can still see that she is worried for Lexa. Definitely not indifferent. 

Also, I would advise reading this analysis by @spacewalkeravenreyes in regards to the connection between 3x06 and 3x12, the episode in which Clarke kills Emerson, but what she did wasn’t hypocritical. Her killing him doesn’t deny the importance of her sparing him in 3x06.

Anyway, this got far too long. TL;DR I don’t think Clarke manipulated Lexa with “Blood Must Not Have Blood”. Clarke is smart and cunning and yes, she can be manipulative too when she wants to, but she is not the devious, evil snake sometimes the fandom takes her for. 

So, Prison Break will be back in a matter of hours.

And to a lot of you, that may mean nothing. 

But it means a hell of a lot to me.

Prison Break first aired when I was fourteen. I don’t remember much about the night itself, but what I do remember is kicking up a real fuss when my brothers outvoted me on the choice of programming, the two of them commandeering the TV remote and forcing me to watch the pilot of this new prison show instead of the episode of House that I had apparently very much wanted to watch at the time. After that night, though, House certainly never took precedence in my schedule ever again, because I had fallen hard for Prison Break in a way that I never had with a show before (or since), my soul already eagerly sold to it before the credits were even rolling on the first episode. 

For the next four years of my life, it was my obsession, my joy, my greatest love, the one thing I could talk endlessly about (particularly any part related to MiSa, my OTP of all OTPs), and the mere thought of which would always make me happy. It led me to my first fan forum, to amazing friends (who I am still in touch with to this day), and also brought me into the world of fanfiction, which in itself became (and remains) a hugely important part of my life. 

As it went on, the show not only taught me life lessons like sacrifice and making difficult decisions and taking responsibility for your actions; it also taught me about myself, and what I wanted and valued and believed. And, as with any show that truly pulls you in, the characters were always far more than just actors spouting lines– they were like family to me, and I celebrated and struggled and grieved with them through four incredible and traumatising seasons. I genuinely cried more tears for them and their pain than I ever did over anything else in my own (obviously very fortunate and privileged) life. 

The same year that Prison Break ended, I graduated high school and was accepted into medical school, a career that I had chosen for several very good reasons, not the least of which was because my still-forming teenage self had looked at Dr Sara Tancredi and had seen exactly the kind of woman I wanted to grow up to be. About five years after that, I was freshly graduated as a doctor, and finally got the chance to meet Went, Dom, and Sarah at my first Comic Con, and was able to thank them in person for the beautiful thing that they had helped create, and which– in Sarah’s case in particular, of course– had helped to create me. 

Today, I’m exactly a month shy of my twenty-sixth birthday, and have been a doctor for almost two and a half years, having even worked briefly in the prison system during that time, among many other things. I may not have the posters hanging on my wall anymore, and the cardboard box full of memorabilia and carefully folded cranes might be tucked away in a closet out of sight, but even still, this show has never left me. It’s in the “Be the change you want to see in the world” ring that I’ve worn every day for the last nine years. It’s in the tiny origami flower that has been tattooed on the back of my left ear since I was nineteen. It’s in the crane that was tattooed on my left wrist two years ago in Chicago, with those same old forum friends beside me, all coming together for the first time in our ten-year friendship to visit the city and the prison that had been the setting for the story that had brought us into each other’s lives. But even more than the marks on my skin, its mark is still inside me, a permanent building block in the foundation of who I am. 

In the last eight years, there’s only one thing about this show that I’ve always regretted, one thing that I have literally wished (on shooting stars, four-leaf clovers, birthday cakes, 11:11, dandelions– you name it, I’ve wished on it) that I could change. Of course, I know that happy endings don’t always exist; that reality is hard and cruel and whatever, so supposedly TV should be too. But that never stopped me from wishing that there could have been just one more happy ending out there to give to this story.

Then, about two years ago, something happened. Stars– both astronomical and celebrity– aligned. Whispers like ‘reboot’ and ‘season 5′ floated around, and then suddenly, startlingly, my dream had started looking like a possibility. A possibility that eventually turned into a miraculous definite, the confirmation followed by months of filming and promoting that I promptly did my very best to ignore or hide from, because I was convinced that if I thought about it too much– let myself hope too much– it would somehow all disappear again; would revert to being merely an elaborate fantasy that I’d concocted in my head, a silly fangirl’s headcanon to rectify her OTP’s heartbreak as well as her own.

But tonight, it’s all becoming real. Tonight, for the first time in eight years, I will turn on my TV and see my character-family again; will experience that old feeling afresh. And though there’s certainly always the chance that the new season will somehow be a disappointment, or will only add more pain, it’s a chance I’m so very willing to take.  

A chance that I’m so, so grateful even exists.

So, if you can, tune in tonight (9/8c on Fox). Even if you’ve never watched before, even if you think that frankly I’m probably just overhyping it and it’s actually nowhere near as great as I claim. Do it anyway, and show the network and showrunners that what they have done means something to the viewers out there– to the people like me, who got far more from this show than just a fascinating story, who might have been a very different person today if they’d managed to wrestle the TV remote off of their brothers on that one night a dozen years ago. And who knows; a success for Prison Break now, like with The X-Files and Gilmore Girls before it, could mean reboots– and therefore justice– for even more beloved shows down the line, and even more opportunities for other fans to re-experience the things that helped to shape them into who they are.

And, well, this moment may have been eight long years in the making– but whatever happens, it was worth it.

blue monday

Title: Blue Monday
Pairing: Josh Dun/Reader
Rating: Very Mature
Warnings: Dirty talk, spanking, choking, super kinky raunchy jealous Josh. There’s blindfolding, toys, handcuffs, aaaand name calling, because I don’t know how to be normal.
A/N: SURPRISE. I’m so terribly sorry I haven’t written any Josh stuff in a while, I’ve been working like a dog to get this one finished. Like I said, it’s pretty kinky and fun, so I really hope you guys like it. Also, blue haired Josh is tops, so that’s what I was imagining the whole time. Thanks to @bringbacktomdelonge​ for helping me stay focused.

Originally posted by dipperhamada

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Poker Face?

Reggie x Reader 

Warnings: SMUTTY like no joke, if you don’t like sexy time, don’t read!!!

Requested: Can you write a Reggie x reader where they’re dating and they  play strip poker (smut)

A/N: I’ve never played poker before, so I don’t really know how the game works I’ve read about it online to get the jist of it so I’m pretty much just guessing. 

Originally posted by zachdempsey

Friday Nights alone with Reggie Mantle were often the highlights of my week. It was always after the game that he would take me back to my place for a movie night, or something along those lines. My parents work night shifts so they don’t mind Reggie coming over to keep me company. 

Tonight was no different, we were celebrating a big win for the end of season game. I ran onto the pitch along side other students, and into the arms of Reggie. Other players ran past smacking him on the shoulders congratulating him on the game. He picks me up by the waist as I jump towards him and I nuzzle my face into his neck. Still holding his helmet in one hand he tightens his arms around me and lifts me further into the air with excitement. “Congrats,now how do we celebrate?” I enchant towards the caramel skinned boy in front of me. I reach up and place a kiss on his lips softly. I hear the other team mates whistling and cheering some chanting about Reggie being ‘whipped’. I just laugh and pull away. 

“There’s a party at Thorn-Hill tonight, everyone who’s anyone is going to be there, so your presence would be highly appreciated” Cheryl Bombshell added into the mix, turning towards me, giving me that sickly sweet smile of hers. “Actually y/n and I have plans tonight, right?” Reggie says looking towards me with wide eyes. I nod my head towards Cheryl directing my eyeline towards her “Right” and just like that I was whisked away, by the boy still wearing his football uniform. 


We get back to my place, and I realise this was going to be no different from our other Friday nights. “Why didn’t you want to go to the party,Reg?” I ask politely getting my keys out to unlock the door. The streets were dark and silent. It seemed as though the entire town had escaped to Thorn-Hill for the night and we were the only two people left gallivanting the streets. “I had something in my mind that I wanted to try out, and I didn’t think you would wanna play in front of bunch of people at Cheryl Blossom’s Mansion”Reggie replies with a sly grin contouring his face. His fingers fiddle with the end of my shirt as I unlock the door, pushing it open, I turn around to face him with a confused yet amused look on my face. “play?” I mutter and stumble slightly into the doorway of my own home. 

I walk into the living room and Reggie heads towards the bathroom,carrying his bag, presumably to change. He returns a few moments later wearing a pair of sweats, a t-shirt and a baseball cap, holding a deck of cards in his hands. He brings it up and waves it a little a smug smile plastered on his face. I look between him and the cards and tilt my head in confusion. “Strip poker” he states abruptly. I go wide eyed and stand up from my place on the sofa and walk towards him with a sultry  stare. “so this is what you meant  by play?” I ask lightly biting my lip, it didn’t go un-noticed.  

“Okay then” I nod and move the coffee table into the middle of the room, grabbing a couple of cushions for us each to sit on, either side of the table. He throws his jersey at me and I look at him blankly. “Just in-case you need the extra layer” he teases. “and what makes you think I’m gonna be the one needing the extra layer?” I whisper gently in his ear removing my shirt in front of his eyes and replacing it with his football jersey. He takes in a noticeable gulp before sitting down at the table,shuffling the cards. 


Many Items of clothes removed later, I was left in the Jersey and my underwear and Reggie was sat there in his boxers (Oh and his socks, we can’t forget his socks) “Your poker face really is awful Reggie Mantle” I state calling him out only to antagonise him more. To be truthful, Reggie hating losing, and he hating losing to me even more. He knew it would be something I would hold against him for weeks. I look at the cards in my hand and realise my shirt is probably coming next “turn” Reggie mumbles in concentration. He places his cards down to show, three queens and two tens, an otherwise perfect set. I shamefully place down my cards consisting of a jack, ten,four, six, and and an ace, he royally kicked my butt in this round. He looks at me with a smug expression. His tongue sticking out of his mouth. I clap my hands at his deal and stand up ready to take off the jersey but am stopped by a pair of hands reaching for mine.He pulls me round to his side of the table and tugs me down so I’m sitting in his lap. 

“Don’t take the Jersey off just yet, It looks good on you” He whispers brushing the hair out of my face. bringing his lips to meet mine. I lean forwards and instantly tangle my hands into his black hair.Tugging at the roots towards the back of his head. His hot plump lips meshed with mine,in sync moving in and out of rhythm.     

His hands reached down to my legs where he lifted me up and placed me down so I was straddling his waist. His rough calloused fingers ran up my legs and placed themselves on my hips where he held me still. He leaned back so he was leaning against the couch more comfortably and brought his lips back to mine deeply. The kisses were hard and fast and at times sloppy, but that was just the way I liked it. I gasped suddenly as I was picked up,Reggie standing to sit himself down on the couch rather than the floor, bringing me to sit straddling him once more. His lips move to my neck leaving hot open mouthed kisses on the skin. Leaving a trail down where he meets my jawline sucking on the delicate skin, making me gasp for air. 

His hands lift up the Jersey at either side of my hips where he holds the curves and pushes them forwards,encouraging me to rock my hips gently. I do so earning a satisfied groan fall from Reggie’s lips. I place my hands on his naked shoulders and lean in for another kiss, my mouth already thirsty for more attention. As our lips join again, I roll my hips once again a little harder to meet his and continue the action gaining more gasps and breathy reactions from the pair of us. 

The sloppy kisses and building friction between us was more of a celebration than any after party could ever master. Reggie swiftly flipped us so I was laying on my back on the couch, him above me,breathing heavily, a thin layer of sweat had built up from our actions. Not to mention he was already sweaty from the game. 

He raises the shirt up so it’s just above my belly button and kisses his way from under my chest to my pantie line. His eyes look up through his thick dark eyelashes to meet mine as his cold fingers loop themselves into my panties, I nod slowly and he places another kiss on each hip bone before pulling my panties down my legs and onto the floor beside us. He settles in between my legs again and wraps each leg over his shoulder, his strong hands holding onto the tops of my legs. “You okay beautiful?” he asks quietly and i sigh contently nodding my head,he doesn’t even have to do anything and I’m putty in his hands. “So much better than Thorn-Hill” he mutters more to himself as his face disappears in between my legs. 

His tongue swirls over the budding bundle of nerves,and he presses light kisses on it just to be a tease, before taking it in his mouth and sucking on it, I let out a gasp and my hands go straight for his hair, his locks damp from the sweat raised from both the game and our activities. One of his hands moves itself from its place on my hip and and follows his mouth down to where I needed him the most right now, His finger lightly teased my entrance before sliding all the way in and stilling. I let out a short gasp of his name when he began sliding his middle finger in and out, occasionally swirling it around. His mouth still proceeded too press kisses to my clit, adding to the knot tightening in my stomach. My grip in his hair becoming tighter as he moves his hand faster. 

“Reggie” I gasp getting his attention, his face comes up and I gesture for him to bring his face up to meet mine. His fingers still working inside of me, Reggie comes closer to me, pressing his lips hard against mine, I wrap my arms around the back of his shoulders holding him in hug. My back arches and I moan the knot tightening to the point of release. I pull his arm away from me and he looks at me with both confusion and concern. Only to be replaced by a smirk  when my dainty fingers reached for his boxers. I pulled them down as far I could get them being underneath him. His shaft hit his stomach, I took it in my hands gently and slid my hands down it a couple of times before directing towards my entrance. 

He took matters into his own hands, pulling my legs towards himself, I let out a shriek of excitement, he leaned down and kissed me softly, I felt him sliding in, stretching myself out I gasped for air once he had fully pushed all the way in. Many of the boys always made jokes about mine and Reggie’s sex life, saying things like how ‘he’s an animal’ and ‘he must tear you apart in the bedroom’ and when occasionally that can be true, for the most part. Reggie preferred  to make love, he liked taking it slow making it raw and passionate, that was just one of the things I loved about him. 

One of my hands wrapped around his bicep while the other went straight for his hair. Reggie placed both hands on my hips and gently rocked his hips back and forth setting a rhythm that was pleasing for the both of us. He groans out my name into the crook of my neck and scatters a few kisses in the area. I feel the knot tightening again and becoming loose as my release is coming on. I can tell Reggie is getting close due to the breathy-ness and his tired limbs. with a few more hard fast thrusts Reggie moans into my ear, his movements becoming slopping, my stomach tightens and I feel the knot untie a sense of relief washes over my body. 

Reggie collapses on top of me, pushing my fowards so he can slide in lay behind me on the couch. He presses a kiss under my ear and pulls the jersey down so its covering me up. 

“Well that’s one way to celebrate a football” Reggie smiles and I shake my head laughing and lean up to kiss him  again. 


I’M GOING TO HELL.