but the fact that they turned to each other to feel safe

just a few things straight* people need to never do again

since i’m feeling extra bitter tonight!

  • don’t call ppl gay as a joke/insult, this is 101 level shit friends!

  • DEFINITELY don’t call homophobes gay as a joke/insult. this goes TRIPLE for homophobic politicians etc who deliberately torture, or endanger/end the lives of, LGBT+ people. fuck your putin memes!!!

  • don’t suggest that violent homophobes are just closeted self-hating gay ppl or that “the worst ones are always secretly gay”. that places the blame on us for our own oppression which is a cruel move

  • don’t bring up the fact that “LGBT+ people aren’t all perfect, they can be abusers too!!” because we know, you paint us all that way in order to justify our oppression, and you literally cannot handle that conversation with nuance because of that history - so leave those discussions to us.

  • don’t say making a butch-coded character a lesbian would be “a stereotype” so it’s somehow more Progressive™ to have yet another straight character who just happens to take all her fashion cues from lesbian culture. we need rep more than you do, straight girls with short hair!

  • don’t insist that it’s somehow wrong to be LGBT+ and fulfil stereotypes, as though the negativity in those stereotypes doesn’t nearly always come directly from straight people being uncomfortable with people being visibly LGBT+ and having our own cultures and ways of identifying ourselves to each other

  • don’t act all offended when someone mistakes you for one of us. take some time to think about why you think they should know you’re straight, and why you think it’s so bad to be seen as one of us.

  • don’t make AIDS jokes. what the literal fuck. it was a fucking genocide you monster.

  • don’t defend the way we die on screen all the time. don’t write stories where we can’t be alive and happy and LGBT+ all at the same time without being punished for it by the narrative.

  • don’t go making or joining in on our jokes about how straight people are the worst. that’s you too, buddy, no matter how big your rainbow backpack is.

  • don’t talk about how there are straight people and Straight People™ and you’re better than those other Straight People™. that’s not your fucking call and if you think it is you’re definitely Straight People™

  • don’t assume that everyone in your life is straight. odds are a lot of people just aren’t out to you. it’s your job to learn to be a person they can feel safe being honest with, and to act like that person even when you think you’re only interacting w straight ppl.

  • don’t assume that all LGBT+ people are adults who always knew. be aware that in most groups of children, some will be lgbt+, and be respectful of that possibility in how you talk to them

  • don’t out us. don’t speculate on whether someone you know is lgbt+. don’t mention us in conversation purely to get Cool Credit for knowing A Gay, that’s weird and uncomfortable even if it’s not to someone we know/will ever meet. other lgbt+ ppl see u doing that and we are creeped out.

  • don’t pretend you can be privately creeped out by/uncomfortable w/disapproving of our existence without being a homophobe. you’re a homophobe. you don’t have to stay that way.

  • don’t fetishize relationships between ppl of the gender you’re attracted to. our sexuality and our relationships are not for your consumption and us loving/fucking each other is explicitly not about you at all!

  • stop talking about same gender relationships like they’re dirtier or more sinful than yours. stop pretending gay fanfiction is dirtier than straight fanfiction.

  • shipping isn’t activism, porn isn’t activism, and it’s homophobic to pretend voyeuristic fetishization of our existence is remotely supportive. especially if you’re still uncomfortable w gay & bi people of your own gender.

  • like it’s 100% ok to ship gay relationships but it doesn’t make u an activist or exempt from homophobia, and u do need to examine how u interact w those stories to make sure you’re not objectifying oppressed ppl for ur own pleasure - we’re not fetish objects, we’re people

  • stop showing up to gay bars uninvited. stop having your bachelor/ette parties at gay bars. stop treating our only places to meet each other like your personal zoos.

  • don’t hit on gay men or lesbians, in earnest or as a joke. This includes hitting on gay ppl of your own gender bc you think it’s funny or bc you want to turn on your partner. don’t fucking ask us if you can watch us having sex. stop asking for sexual interaction altogether from people you know aren’t attracted to your gender. you will not be an exception.

  • don’t pressure ur bi partner to engage in a threesome they haven’t said they actually want. definitely do not hit on LGB+ ppl on behalf of your bi partner. wtf dude.

  • straight women, please stop calling your platonic female friends “girlfriends” or people you admire as “woman crushes”. Take some time to think about why you think just indicating she’s a girl is supposed to make it clear that your feelings toward someone are actually platonic, and how that makes lbpq women you know feel.

  • when someone comes out to you, don’t act like they’re suddenly a predatory pervert w no self control. don’t stop inviting them to events or start acting differently around them. we interact w ppl of our own gender all the fucking time w/o making it sexual, stop interpreting every interaction w a gay person as sexual in our minds, it’s almost certainly not. ur not that irresistible, stop making it weird.

  • don’t pretend our existence is 100% about how we have sex. that means stop making excuses to not tell children about us! don’t act like we shouldn’t be gay in public! don’t act like your weird kinks make your experience remotely equivalent to ours! (stop ‘coming out’ as kinky you creeps!)

  • don’t demand we present a desexualized and platonic image of our existence and relationships at all times. we have wildly varying sex lives and levels of complexity in our relationships to sex, just like you do.

  • don’t ever EVER use the word h*m*sexual, it’s considered a slur bc it was used for medicalized justifications for our torture. there’s a reason 99% of the usage of that word today is by anti-gay groups.

*tbh this is really just @ straight cis ppl even tho it’s abt gayness since honestly most of these do not apply to straight trans ppl, bc straight trans ppl are an integral part of the same communities/face many of the same issues - and almost always have better fucking manners.

4

YOU MIGHT WANNA RIGHT CLICK > OPEN IMAGE IN NEW TAB TO SEE ALL THE DETAILS SORRY

hello here are some colored sketches I did today and I’m shamelessly smashing two things I like together



lmao where do I even start?? so this is like a Miraculous Ladybug/Hunter X Hunter mash up.


There is a lot of info so if you want to read, look below the cut. Some other versions of the masquerade ball picture are below too!



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{PART 19} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; Not knowing whether to stay and fight, or run and protect you; Jungkook gets thrown into a world of fear and panic. Meanwhile, Yoongi and Serrena battle for victory in the silent game of war they play;

“How dreadful…to be caught up in a game and have no idea of the rules.”

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time) 

{Part 1} // {Part 18} {Part 19} {Part 20}

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In light of the events of the latest episode, which I’m choosing to ignore, I thought I’d make a list of a few random Clexa facts about their life after Lexa survives the bullet, which is canon of course. So…

  • Clarke loves watching Lexa interact with the Nightbloods. Whether she is training them or teaching them or just listening to them, Clarke loves this side of Lexa, supportive and encouraging and never patronizing or aggressive, not even during the toughest training sessions. She often finds herself wondering if Lexa acts like this with them because she never experienced this type of support and kindness during her upbringing.
  • Lexa could spend hours watching Clarke draw. Eyebrows creased in concentration, tip of her tongue between her teeth, blue eyes shining with a particularly bright spark, she is both the cutest and most fascinating creature Lexa has ever laid eyes on.
  • Lexa is a lightweight. As Heda, even during special occasions or celebrations, she’s been taught that she must always keep her head clear. She almost never indulges in drinking and has never developed a tolerance for it. So when on a freezing winter day Clarke steals a bottle of wine and decides she and Lexa are spending the day in their room, eating and drinking and just relaxing, she finds out that it doesn’t take long for the Commander to get drunk. All flushed cheeks and bubbly laughs and surprisingly inclined to cuddle, she’s never been more adorable. Okay, maybe only when she’s hungover and she’s trying to look like she isn’t.
  • Clarke can’t use a sword for the life of her. She’s just terrible with it. But her aim is good, and she finds she is pretty good with a bow and arrow. After some time spent perfecting her skills, Lexa tells her even Anya would be impressed.
  • Lexa trains hard and often to keep her body strong and her reflexes sharp. First time Clarke stops by to watch her train, she finds herself completely enthralled by it. The elegance and fluidity of Lexa’s movements, the toned muscles rippling under the skin… it’s safe to say Clarke discovers a new turn-on. From that day on, whenever Lexa comes back from training, Clarke jumps on her and ravages her.
  • Clarke loves tracing Lexa’s tattoos and scars (yes she has scars) and asks the story behind each of them. Some reveal funny stories of a stubborn young Lexa climbing on a far-too-high tree just to impress Costia, and miserably falling from it. “Her laugh was worth the pain, though.” Others reveal sorrow of a young girl forced to fight and kill the kids she’d grown up with and considered brothers and sisters. Lexa doesn’t cry when she talks about her Conclave. Clarke wonders if it’s because she already spilled all the tears she had for them years ago.
  • Costia is a different story. Even if not an open wound anymore, even if Clarke knows Lexa loves her, she also knows the pain over Costia’s death will always be a part of Lexa. But she doesn’t want that to obscure any other memory of someone that was so important to Lexa. So, Clarke asks her stories about Costia. She makes Lexa talk about her, what she was like, how they met, the way her laughter sounded. She does her best to cleanse Costia’s memory for Lexa, so she can think about her and remember something other than pain and sadness.
  • Lexa doesn’t remember her parents. When she describes her family, she talks about Anya and Gustus.
  • Clarke cries when she talks about her father. Lexa holds her.
  • They both have an obsession for each other’s hands. Clarke loves how lithe and elegant Lexa’s look: how strong they are when she is gripping a sword or handling a weapon, and how delicate and gentle when she is caressing Clarke’s body. Lexa is in awe of how skilled Clarke’s are: how they turn simple lines of charcoal on paper into masterpieces and how they’re capable of healing people and literally bring life. Oh, Lexa loves kissing them a lot.
  • Sometimes they have to separate. Clarke goes back to Arkadia for a while or Lexa has to visit other Clans. They crave each other the whole time. When they’re back together, sex is always a little more desperate and passionate than usual.
  • One time a group of rebel dissidents kidnaps Clarke on her way back to Polis to use her as leverage against Lexa. It takes less than three days for Lexa to find her and rescue her. Bloodied and bruised, but alive. Lexa rushes her back to Arkadia so that Abby can heal her. Clarke has never seen Lexa cry like the moment she wakes up, but she is not surprised. She knows this is Lexa’s worst nightmare, she knows she can’t bear to lose her like she lost Costia. She knows, because she felt the same when a bullet meant for her almost killed Lexa.
  • They sleep wrapped around each other. Clarke rests her head on Lexa’s chest, finding comfort in the steady sound of her heartbeat, and Lexa holds her close with an arm.
  • They’re happy.
Sick of Losing You

Plot: Harry and Y/N lost each other when he found someone else.

Warnings: None aside that it kinda broke my heart.

Playlist to the one shot: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL2S-tehb1XqDqkmE4xnz7-SciJy61soVf

Thanks to @interfectorems for being such a good friend, supporter and for requesting this. 
Songs that are mentioned but not on the playlist are “Out of the Woods” by Taylor Swift & “If You don’t Know” by 5Sos.

Pic of this beauty isn’t mine.

I watched from a far how he held on to her hand, his fingers grasping and squeezing hers gently while his eyes never left her pretty face. He watched her speak with such an intensity in his green eyes, as if he literally saw nothing other than her. His girlfriend. Not me.
I took a deep breath, swallowed the thick lump building in my throat and turned away from the sight.
Exactly three weeks ago, Harry and I had shared a kiss. Our first kiss, which had been exactly how I’d secretly always wished for it to be. Of course it had been. Every time you get to kiss the person you love is special and like fireworks painting colors into the sky.

He’d been talking and listening to me all night, similar to how he now was with her and had at some point reached out to hold my hand, just like he was holding hers in this moment.
When the time felt right, he’d leant in and had captured my lips with his. Needless to say, Harry was a phenomenal kisser. He knew when to press further, when to use how much tongue and was very attentive to how my body responded to his. Whenever I thought about it now, my cheeks tingled with the memory of his hands cupping them gently as he cradled my face to keep me close. He’d been so soft, so perfect. Harry had touched me with a tenderness, I thought it’d break my heart. I remembered wrapping my arms around his neck and feeling like they belonged there, like I was meant to hold him close.
Only that I wasn’t. The girl he was with now only proved how insignificant I was.

I couldn’t help peaking and looking over at him again. Harry’s lips. I knew exactly how they felt when pressed against my own, knew their taste and shape. Their warmth. Harry’s touch was impossible to forget.
I watched him kiss his girlfriend with a mesmerized stare, before moving away and into the kitchen, leaving the small gathering of our friends with a murmured excuse that I needed to get a refill of my drink, when in reality I couldn’t bear seeing the man I loved sharing affectionate kisses with someone else.
But not even the kitchen was a safe area for me. t had been this exact kitchen, the one in Harry’s house, where he’d pulled me aside and told me about her for the first time.

“It’s difficult” I think he said. “It’s my fault that this situation has become so messy.”

Was it silly that I could actually still remember every word he spoke to me? That I’d engraved every pause, every take in of breath he made, deeply into my head?

“Listen, Y/N… You’re important to me. I care about you. Need you, it’s just… There is someone. Someone who could be a chance for a relationship and I really want to give this a go. Give her a go, I mean. You can understand that, right?”

At first it’d felt like none of it was real. Because how could he be serious?
Harry. My best friend, Harry.
Only three days after our magical first kiss, three days full of us talking and flirting and texting constantly, he was telling me that he wanted someone else. Her name was Ira. And though he was seemingly behaving the same way with her he had been with me, we weren’t the same. In fact, she was everything I wasn’t. So when he told me he wanted her and not me, that he was picking her over of me, how come I’d been surprised?

I would never be his first choice, not when there were thousands of others he could choose from. And it was time for my brain to learn to not interpret every kind gesture, time to learn to stop overthinking every word. It was time for my head to accept, that there was no way Harry Styles could possibly want me.

So… I had been understanding. Kind even.
I’d lied and told him that yes, I agreed that our kiss had been a mistake. We shouldn’t have done any of that and instead thought of our friendship first, rather than our impulses. I’d kept a smile on my face throughout the entire talk and even finished the short chat by wishing him good luck with her. Another lie.

My fingers shook and so I set the empty glass of my drink down quickly, worried for a moment that I might otherwise spill the last few drops. I didn’t think much when I reached for the bottle of vodka on the counter. There was no getting through this night if I didn’t have something proper to drink. If only I remembered the recipe….

“Need help?”

My shoulders tensed. It couldn’t be him. Please… anyone, literally anyone, but him.

However when I turned around, Harry was there. He stood tall and beautiful, his short hair soft and wavy. Harry’s compelling eyes held my gaze with such a tender rawness in them, my knees weakened. All my body burned for was to wrap my arms around his shoulders and have him embrace me, have him tell me that everything would be okay again. I felt like I needed it, but knew that this was a wish I would be denied. Harry must have felt it, too. It was in the air around us. It had changed and… buzzed. As if being in each other’s presence made the world halt still for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Harry chuckled lowly when I didn’t say anything. How could he smile like everything was alright?

And what was it he was apologizing for? Abandoning our friendship? Ruining any hope I’d had to find a partner in him? Shattering my heart? Hardly.

“For scaring you,” Harry elaborated, a sudden hint of guilt in his eyes, almost as if he’d read my thoughts.

“It’s fine, Harry,” I muttered, bearing a false smile, “All good.”

It was hard to look at him. Especially his eyes. They burned a whole into my chest whenever my own orbs found them. They reminded me of the Harry he once was, the one I could always come to and rely on.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, his head nodding towards the bottle of vodka. His forehead furrowed in a worried expression and I quickly set the container back down.

“I wanted to make myself a drink, but the recipe slipped my mind. I’m not as much of an alcoholic as it must look like.”

“Good to know,” Harry chuckled, then, visibly thinking about it first, took a step forward. “I remember what you like in your favorite drink. Could make you one.”

From how close he was standing, it was easy to notice every detail of his skin. Every curve of his lips, every hair of his barely-there beard. My stomach turned.

“That’d be nice.”

Harry smiled and nodded. “Okay.”

We avoided any touching. I was leant against the counter, he stood with a safe distance between us and only came closer when he needed a different ingredient that happened to be near me. It was awkward and… weird. It didn’t feel like ‘us’. The friends we’d been once seemed to be two completely different people. I knew him and felt he was familiar, but there was a emotional distance between us I knew neither of us could overcome. And still, I was with him and even if we behaved like strangers, being with Harry was nice.

“I think that’s it,” Harry said, breaking the silence. His eyes were set on the pink-orange liquid in my glass, then they drifted to my face. A proud smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“You 'think’?” I challenged shyly.

I took the glass from him (cautious not to touch his fingers) and took a sip. It tasted great.

“M'not big of a show off,” Harry grinned, “S'it good?”

I nodded and stirred the colored liquid once more. “Thanks, Harry.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” His voice was soft and his gaze shy.

The air around us shifted once more. My eyes teared up. What had happened to us? Harry and I… we used to be the kind of friends who didn’t stopped talking to each other for hours. At first, we’d be loud. We’d laugh and giggle so much eventually both of our tummies hurt. That was when we’d change the subject and speak more quietly, until several hours later our conversations drifted to topics only we were allowed to hear. Then we’d be whispering and sitting closer together, always an eager sparkle in the other’s eyes as we both listened with interest about what was being said.

I quickly turned away and pretended to yawn. My eyes blinked rapidly and I willed them not to cry in front of him. Not because of embarrassment, but because I couldn’t do that to him. I’d given him my okay. I had no right to be mad at him for having found someone else. Harry remained standing close and with his hands in the front pockets of his black jeans.

“I think I should go,” I muttered.

I held my head low and took a deep breath before looking at him briefly. Harry’s eyes held concern and his fingers twitched, as if he longed to reach out for me.

“Y/N, love,” he began lowly, “Do you think we could talk for a bit? S'been a while since I got to see you. Hear your voice. I missed you.”

This time when my eyes met his green orbs, I didn’t look away, even though I could feel the tears forming and coming closer to spilling over. Harry’s whole expression changed. His cheeks paled and his forehead furrowed deeper.

“I miss you, too, Harry,” I admitted, my weak voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” he mumbled, shaking his head slowly, sorrow deeply set in his eyes. His feet stepped closer and his warm hands touched my flushed cheeks before I even had the chance to back away from him. The unexpected closeness caught me off guard and had more tears coming, this time because of how much I hated how uncommon this sort of care from him had become.

Harry embraced me. His head buried itself into my neck and both arms wrapped themselves around my waist so he could lift me up from my feet. “Please no, Y/N, Sweetheart. Don’t cry.”

I couldn’t help it. My heart, the final bit that had been whole still, broke in his caring hands and I was overcome and pulled under a wave of grief. That was what I was doing. I was grieving our friendship and the lost hope I’d had for a relationship with him. And he allowed it. He let me cry against his collarbones without any complaint and instead began to hum quietly, knowing how much his voice always soothed me. Pain shot through my chest. He probably did the same when she was upset.

“I can’t-” I cried, but got cut off by my lungs that burned with need for air.

Harry hushed me, his hold tightening, “Don’t, Y/N. It’s going to be alright.”

I shook my head and loosened the hold I’d taken around his neck. My hands momentarily brushed his soft hair, then I pulled away. Harry hesitated but allowed me to step out of his hold.

“I can’t take it anymore, Harry,” I confessed, my voice breaking halfway through the sentence. I reached up to brush my cheeks with the end of my sleeve and hiccuped. My head felt numb and I knew if I didn’t get out of this kitchen soon, he’d witness a break down I wasn’t comfortable with him seeing.

Harry’s hand reached for my arm. I didn’t fight it when he pulled me closer to him, but avoided his eyes when he leaned down to find my gaze.

“Y/N,” he spoke, his voice rough with emotion, “I promise you, it’ll be alright. M'not leaving, okay? M'not. We’ll figure this out.”

I wanted to scream but all I could was shake my head rapidly. “Figure this out how? What have we become, Harry?”

Another sob wrecked through my chest.

“I don’t know,” he confessed, “But we’re going to find each other again, okay? I promise. Let me say goodbye to the others and then we’ll go for a walk or something. We’ll talk. About everything and nothing at all… Just like we always used to, yeah?”

Used to. So long ago, it seemed.

“Okay,” I whispered, my burning eyes set on my feet. My skin shivered under his warmth and my lips hurt from how much I was bitting them.

I flinched when his mouth pressed a kiss to my head. The skin was left with a burning sensation. “Wait for me here, love.”

Harry’s quick feet carried him out of the kitchen and left me standing by the counter with my heart at the pit of my stomach. I stood up straight and brushed the few remaining tears from my cheeks. My skin tingled and I felt the hint of a smile on my lips, even though my body ached.
Looking back now, I wish I would have stayed put by the counter and had waited for him just like he’d asked me to. I wish I hadn’t been impatient and eager to reunite with Harry, because that eagerness drove me to exit the kitchen shortly after him and turn the corner, allowing me clear view into the living room.
There he stood. His arms around her thin form, his hands in her long hair and his lips kissing hers. All air was knocked right out of me. I could see how his hands gently moved against her neck, bringing her in closer and their bodies flush together. When their lips parted for a moment, I could see how he let his tongue run along his lower lip, as if he wanted to make sure he got all of her taste. And I could see him smile warmly at her, right before he leaned back in to connect their mouths once more. This sight… it burned.
I didn’t wait for him. Because I had been wrong before. My heart wasn’t truly broken until that moment, witnessing the man I loved with my everything, kissing a woman who wasn’t me. And if he wasn’t going to leave me, if he was just going to keep me close and allow my heart to shatter over and over again, then I supposed I would have to be the one to go first.
So that’s what I did. I walked back to the entryway, slid on my jacket, picked up my bag, and left the house. Left, to never come back to Harry Styles.

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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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YOI Hunger Games AU

surprisingly does not exist yet (considering this fandom’s thirst for angst lol) but here are some things to consider:

  • Yuuri being reaped from the district where it’s basically a death sentence. (Alternatively; he volunteers in place of Yuuko, determined to have his future godchildren grow up with both their parents).
  • Despite his abysmal chances of survival and low self-esteem, Yuuri pushes himself to learn as much as he can. He needs to return home.
  • Victor being from one of the Career districts. He’s been handpicked from the academy and is gifted in combat, even though it’s not something he enjoys. The idea of killing other kids and teenagers leaves him uneasy. He’s never known warmth or affection.
  • Though Yuuri is unassuming, he is kind, smart and driven. Victor notices him as someone to look out for. On the flip side, Yuuri is starstruck by Victor, who is talented and eye-catching in all universes. They have an uneasy unspoken truce, having short conversations interwoven through training.
  • Yuuri tries out an alliance with Phichit & Co, but is quickly separated from them. Victor is the type to strike out on his own. Both boys are hunted by the Career pack; Victor for being a high-profile threat and Yuuri for inadvertently causing the death of two careers. Since they are both alone, they band together.
  • Despite everything, Yuuri feels very safe around Victor. Being around Victor makes him believe in himself. He tells Victor about his family, his likes and his hobbies. He wants to win but acknowledges that his odds of making it to the end are low, so he wants to try and help Victor while he can.
  • They grow closer and more desperate as they scramble to survive, taking turns being reckless and protecting each other. They become very dependent on each other, but can’t bring themselves to care, because it’s one of the only things keeping them sane.
  • Victor has never met anyone like Yuuri, who laughs without malice, who never lets go, who is the only one who’s ever cared about Victor the person. He feels like Yuuri is the only person he can spill himself into, who never makes him feel like he’s not enough. He knows that eventually either he has to die, or he has to kill Yuuri. But he knows in his heart he’s already made his choice.
  • They find Phichit’s body. Yuuri has an anxiety attack and is inconsolable for hours. Victor holds him in his arms as he sleeps, and wonders how Yuuri would take his death when the time comes to it.
  • They kiss. It’s simultaneously the best and worst moment of Victor’s life.
  • When there are three tributes left, Victor insists on finding the last tribute before they run out of strength and supplies. Neither say anything about what they will do if they succeed in killing her, despite the fact that it’s the heaviest thing on their mind.
  • Then there are only two tributes left.
{PART 24} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; Despite everything that has gone wrong for you; you feel like life might start to have a better outlook as Jungkook takes all measures to keep you safe. However, a storm is coming; one that grips and pulls at the strongest winter coat…before you find yourself making the biggest mistake of your life to date.

“The lull, or the calm before the storm took it’s place in the atmosphere, in both of their hearts and their minds. ‘Tread carefully’ he warned her, but she slipped from his grasp the moment he blinked”

Not rated M, but be warned there are some scenes of a suggestive sexual nature.

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time) 

{Part 1} // {Part 23} {Part 24} {Part 25}

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anonymous asked:

So I got a question about the sparing and padding post that you recently made. I like to read Assassin's Creed fanfictions that shows Altair (the main character) in his early years, which often includes his training to be an assassin. In most of these fics they focus more on the sword and knife fighting but some does include the hand to hand fighting too (without protection). So realistically what kind of injuries would someone training without any kind of protection should expect?

Death.

I’m only sort of kidding, because I know the kinds of fanfics you’re talking about and like every writer trying to be edgy, they have them spar without protections and with live weapons. There’s a reason why we use practice weapons during training and in sparring matches, where rules are in play. 

Now, the Assassin’s Creed variant of the Hashashin live for that super edgy, very stupid state of supposed badass where one must constantly prove their worth so I totally believe they’d do it. I’d also believe this would lead to an incredibly high turnover with their recruits, which is not sustainable in the real world.

I’m going to point out here that the “Asassins” or Hashashin were real. That’s the etymology for the word. The suicide jumping is also real and, instead of landing on bales of hay, they jumped to their deaths. There are a couple of stories about that piece of the order. The real Assassins were religious fanatics. These stories are not so much a testament to the quality of their training so much as their fanaticism.

For what it’s worth, the Knights Templar were also real and a prominent militant order up until they were excommunicated by the Pope.

The history of both groups is actually far more interesting than the Assassin’s Creed franchise. This is a persistent problem with the games, they invariably include historical figures who are far, far, far more interesting, competent, and badass than we’re presented with. If you encounter a historical personage in an Assassin’s Creed game, remind yourself of this simple fact: the real one is about 200x more awesome. It’s this weird inverse where the reality consistently surpasses the fiction. (Black Flag, I have my eye on you. Honestly, how do you mess up Stede Bonnet, The Gentleman Pirate? And that’s the least of your sins!)

The more serious answer is that unless you’re training with weapons or making an active effort to hit each other, in the real world we don’t train using pads on the regular. The pads are so you can essentially go full out against another person under controlled circumstances and then come back for training tomorrow. If your students are constantly getting injured that hampers their ability to train, then they fall behind and you turn out fewer fighters. Injuries on the training floor should not be a common occurrence.

Barring accidents and mishaps, if you’re simply practicing your techniques on your own or against a wooden dummy then all you should expect afterwards is standard muscle pain (maybe some bruising). The same should be true for practice with human opponents (which is not sparring) and sparring itself.

Anything else is a waste of time, energy, and resources.

Remember, injuries take time to heal and if you’re prepping someone to go out and murder that’s time you don’t have.

In the land of “edgy training”, try to remember that you want evil as opposed to incompetence.

The vast majority of training, like the kinds you listed, are edgy incompetence. They don’t serve a purpose other than sadism and your students don’t learn anything. Unfortunately, cruelty on its own doesn’t teach much (the Spartans were abusive jerks, but their methods worked). The beat up, abuse them, cruelty methodology simply doesn’t work unless you understand the kinds that work and, from a storytelling perspective, it also isn’t interesting.

The kind of “edgy training” you see in most stories is a round of Kinder’s First. People mimicking what Hollywood has taught them or what they’ve seen in fiction elsewhere. The assumption in this line of thinking is that the more brutal the training then the more dangerous the fighter. This isn’t true. More importantly, there are much better ways to sadistically mess with your students’ (and audience’s) heads.

1) Depending on your teaching style, you may murder a student on occasion to motivate the others. However, the control over who lives or dies remains with the instructor because the instructor is god. If a student gets a bright idea to kill another student without your approval, kill them.

2) Live weapons should never be used by students on each other except as a graduation gift. The graduation gift being only one of them will be accepted into the Order, so prove your worth. (In the real world, you’ll probably need them both but in fantasy land… why not?)

3) Use the threat of death to keep your students from getting comfortable, make good on this promise every so often. Bring in an established warrior to kill off your best student in demonstration to the others. (Why? It reminds them at no point are they safe.)

4) Encourage your students to break the rules, punish them severely if caught. (Playing favorites? Punish them more, push them harder.)

5) Limit their resources. Make them fight each other for their food. Survival isn’t a given. It’s earned.

6) In the early days, force them into physical exhaustion. Keep them up late. Wake them early. Limit their sleep to the minimum of hours they need to stay functional. Tired minds are easier to manipulate.

7) Force them into direct conflict with each other. There’s never a solid baseline they can achieve, and they’re always watching over their shoulder. Furthermore they never become loyal to each other. They are only loyal to you. Appeasing their teacher is their only means of survival.

8) Got a problem child who won’t play along? Don’t make an example of them. No, no, make them your new favorite. That’ll turn the others on them, and they’ll solve the problem for you.

9) Change the goalposts regularly, so they never know what to expect.

10) You’ve got someone who doesn’t want to participate? Say okay. When others move to join them, punish those students viciously instead. Do it in front of the class and for everyone to see. (This is called: creating heroes and wrecking them.)

11) Have your students inform on each other.

If this is starting to sound like abuse, well.. you’re right. It is. It also very successful in terms of achieving its goal. The goal is attacking the student’s perceptions, beliefs, and their understanding of the world while reshaping them into who you want them to be.

Real cruelty is clever and inventive. It is also patient. Like a good interrogator, this teacher will leave their students so they’re never sure of exactly what the teacher wants or how to please them. They give them hope, then snatch it away. Someone who excels at social manipulation will use this position of power to maneuver their students feelings and their expectations, indirectly point them at certain targets by stoking negative feeling such as jealousy, paranoia, anger, or fear. In the other hand, those rare moments of kindness offered will ensure gratitude. When a good teacher wants their uncooperative students to band together, they make themselves the target the students need to fight against. The abusive teacher does the opposite. They ensure they are the only boat in the storm and turn their charges on each other. They make sure their students never know what to expect. This includes going hot and cold. They change up to batter expectations, handle some problems themselves and let the students handle others.

An experienced teacher will have seen plenty of student characters, all the versions you can imagine. A good one will break the problem kids to bridle without them ever realizing it happened, and they exit the experience more hardcore than the ones who invested themselves honestly. The purpose of “brutal training” isn’t to churn out a better warrior. It’s to break the individual down so you can reshape their mind and ensure the weapon you’ve created is loyal to you. That level of conditioning is very difficult to break. You’ve re-oriented their entire training into status positions they’ve fought for and earned. This training becomes a foundation for their identity, and you’re not going to get it out of them.

So, before invoking the trope, choose wisely and understand the purpose for what it is. Actively abusive training is done with the express intent to recondition and brainwash. More than that, in competent hands, it’ll snap the “rebellious teenage hero” contingent like twigs.

As a member of a fanatical cult, Altair is a direct example of this sort of training writ large.

-Michi

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A Lesson in Love (Emergency)

Summary: (College!AU) In which you’re assigned to write a story about romance, a subject you know nothing about, and Bucky, a hopeless romantic, offers you his assistance.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3,048

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist + Soundtrack

@avengerstories - thank you, as always, for editing this for me.

Originally posted by charlestonchewbacca

The thought of what it must feel like to be an astronaut has crossed your mind on countless occasions, thanks to the astronomy class you’re currently taking. How does it feel to be that detached from the place you call home? To see the earth floating in the never-ending expanse that is space? To know that there’s a whole world of people residing on that large green and blue planet, but having no way to reach out to them?

Unexpected circumstances have transformed you into the astronaut that you never thought you’d have the chance to be. The news that Bucky is in the hospital, his condition unknown, has acted like a spaceship, catapulting you out of the atmosphere. It’s left you hurdling through space, unable to reach out to anyone, no matter how hard you try. T’Challa and Sam are calling out to you, but you can’t hear them. They’re far away, too far away, waiting on earth while you continue your journey. One without any gravity to keep you from floating away.

Keep reading

shades of wrong (m)

Summary: In which you’re sure you’ll hate Park Jimin with every fiber of your being for the rest of your existence, even after he is assigned your tutor for History of Magic.
Pairing: Jimin | Reader
Genre: Fluff/Smut; Harry Potter AU 
Word Count: 17,321
Author’s Note: This got insanely long, and I apologize but also not really. Inspired by @jeonbegins + her really dope HP Slytherin Jimin AU edit. I also had a little conversation with @minsvga about this and she helped me figured out the basic idea for what this story has become; and @chokemejimin has asked to be tagged in my HP work so here you go my dear!!!

.

No matter how hard you try, it seems as if you are always bested by Park Jimin in every aspect of life: from Quidditch to school to class popularity.

And you absolutely despise him for it.

Granted, it’s probably because he’s always simply excelled in everything while you could only manage the minimum requirement for things outside of the sport you’ve grown to be so passionate about—but that’s only deepened your dislike for the boy. It’s been like this since the pair of you were children, a rivalry already planted between you even before you knew what the term meant. Truthfully, it was pretty much written in the stars that you would develop some deep-rooted grudge against Jimin, for he was organized into Slytherin while you were put in the fiery red and gold of Gryffindor.

Beyond the clashing Houses that have officially formed your backgrounds, it doesn’t help that the boy has seemed to uphold a particular interest in doing whatever he could to see you fidget or watch you squirm or just catch you at your worst moments—although you humor yourself on the idea that these unfortunate incidents occur to you because of Park Jimin’s constant hovering. It’s a habit that’s grown since the first week of your admission into Hogwarts, in which your big mouth scored you your first detention with the infamous Professor Snape.

It’s a moment that marks the beginning of an unspoken battle between the pair of you—in which you would constantly attempt to prove yourself better than Park Jimin and Park Jimin doing everything he could to make sure you could never have that victory. During the first two years of school, this would mean beating you on every exam, knowing the answers to every question and teasing you for not knowing. Professors putting Jimin on a pedestal, marking him up as the ‘ideal student’ and unknowingly intensifying the dagger of hatred you wished to plunge deeper and deeper into his chest.

When you are twelve, you are told that there is certainly no way for you to truly despise of something (or someone)—for you are young and naive and not entirely capable to understand what it means to hate something with every fiber of your being.

But they’re wrong.

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"A LETTER TO MY TEENAGE SELF" by SOLANGE KNOWLES

there will be fear. a lot of it. there will be triumph. a lot of it. there will be constellations you want to reach for but can’t put your finger on. you will trace them like the scars on your body you got from trouble and the times of your life. you will take the long way to get to these Orions. the long way will become a theme in your life, but a journey you learn to love.

you will dive head first without looking into phases that you are certain of who you are.
some of these stages include:

  • the dance-is-life (aka “this leotard is my second skin”) phase.
  • the Bible-thumping-church-camp phase.
    (which coincided and contradicted with the Fiona-Apple-fan-club-president phase)
  • the Nas aficionado-brown-lip-liner-and-Vaseline phase.
  • the Rasta-vegan-thrifter-who-is-determined-to-marry-Brandon-Boyd phase.
  • the football-player’s-girlfriend-who-wears-braided-blond-highlights-and-swears-by-capri-pants phase.

at the time, you are searching. seeking in every corner and pocket of the world for who you are. take your time, baby girl. there’s no rush to get there. you will sow each of these chapters in the land that you become. you will see bits and pieces of them scattered into the skin you grow into. you don’t have to figure everything out now. time will reveal itself. i promise you.

sometimes you push these phases to the max, and when you go out into the world feeling confident in who you are and what you reflect, young folks will call you names and grown folks will call you names. It’s ok. one day you will name yourself, and that name will belong to you. it will not be the ones they ordained: “crazy, ugly, attention-seeking, weirdo.”

i really hate to tell you this, but sometimes you will still get called these things as an adult, except you will actually embrace some of them. you will learn that these are just words. words that only have power if you choose to give them power. every once in a while they will hurt, but you will choose to turn those words into a symbol of beauty.

speaking of words. they might just be your first love. sometimes you can write for hours, just you and the words on the pages. they make you feel understood, even if it’s just you that you’re talking to.

trust in these words, even when you’re feeling wildly insecure. hold on to your journals. cherish them. put them somewhere safe so that they may become a guide for you later, a revealer and a friend.

the lucky stars have been good to you, and there’s a long list of things you’d like to give gratitude to them for, but for now thank them for these three:

  • that you didn’t die when you and your friends drove up a steep mountain in a snowstorm with no experience and bad brakes. that was stupid as hell.
  • that you went to the ensemble theater every summer. i really don’t think you’d be who you are today had it not been for those experiences, teachers, and experimentation with your mind and body.
  • that the universe chose your mom to be your mother.

she is a wonder. you watch her drop off 3 kids at 3 different schools in the morning, pick them up in the afternoon, shuffle each of them to their designated activities, and bring them all back to the salon she owns until she closes up with the utmost grace, love, and kindness.

you realize watching a woman balance being a supportive mother, building a successful business from the ground up that was started in her garage, and giving back to the community will make you feel invincible and like the word “no” is just an echo in the universe that you’ll never know. you often take her for granted, but you know with every joint in your bones that she is a phenomenon and you strive to make her proud. you should thank her out loud more, too; tell her you value her. roll your eyes and your neck less. it’s not as cute as you think. tell her you appreciate all that she does, for she makes the impossible look effortless. she surrounds you with other black women who do the same. you study them, and will constantly think of all their stories, their beauty, their strife and their stride. they break down all of the archetypes and stereotypes that you see of black women on tv and in magazines, so you don’t trust those anymore. you thank them for re-writing the script before it was ever etched in your memory.

because you have your mama’s blood, you are fiercely independent and outgoing. you’ve been starting petitions, building tree houses, and starting clubs since as long as you can remember.

sometimes in the midst of juggling all this, you put a lot of pressure on yourself and often crash and burn. you shut down. you go into your room, lock the door, put on music, and you do not move for 8 hours straight. it will feel like the heaviest and bleakest darkness you can possibly feel, and when you ask everyone to leave you alone and let you be, what you really want to say is “i want you here” and “i need help.”

sometimes it is ok to say just that. it won’t make you less strong or less powerful. no one you love will criticize you or blame you; in fact, they will lift you up.

seventeen will be the hardest year of your life. it will grow you up almost immediately. you will lose your best friend whom you love so much to gun violence in a single moment, and give birth to a new one within a year.

you will be terrified, and it’s ok that you don’t know what the future holds. some people will count you out because of the decision you’ve made to bring another life into the world so young, but you made the decision out of love and will live with the decision in love.

soon enough you will learn how to love and how to exist with love in ways that you never knew. you will learn how to love yourself and how to empathize with and forgive those who may have taken a bit of that pure love away from you.

you have a long life ahead of you, and i’ll tell you it’s not gonna always be easy, but I can promise you it will be fruitful and with much purpose. all the bridges you’ve burned, you had to, so that you could rebuild them to become a stronger and more wonderful you.

there will be pain, there will be doubt there will be beauty, there will be the unknown. there will be so many moments of joy and delight that the whole universe will feel painted in hues of amber and wonder. there will be times you are so sad you can’t lift your head. and there will be times you are so happy that the sensation of life knocks you down. but most importantly, there will be you. a whole, whole lot of it. and you will feel good about who she is and who she is still becoming.

despite the fact that everybody thought isak would be too lazy to get all the stuff for their new place unpacked over easter, he actually gets it done in a couple of days. he’s just so happy, he can’t explain it; he hasn’t stopped smiling since they moved in. everything just seems that much brighter, funnier, and altogether just…better.

he’s unpacking one of the last boxes - just a few odds and ends for their bedroom - when he comes across the drawings. the ones even gave him last year, when this all started. he smiles fondly to himself, thumb brushing delicately over the ink, ghosting the path even’s hands made when he drew them. and he feels this sudden sense of gratitude wash over him; that they’re here, now, the two of them. they have come so, so far. 

and just then, even’s behind him, wrapping his arms around isak’s waist and hugging him, pressing soft kisses to the back of isak’s neck. and isak sighs against him, smiling, and turns to face him. 

“kitchen’s finished,” even tells him.

“so’s the bedroom,” isak says. “just need to find somewhere for these.”

even studies the drawings, frowning, then laughs fondly, raking a hand through isak’s hair. “fucking hell, i forgot about these. you kept them?”

“of course,” isak says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like it would have been ludicrous for him not to have kept them. even just smiles and kisses him, all smiley, a hand in isak’s hair and the other on isak’s waist, pulling him a little closer, soft and gentle, fluttering eyelashes and rosy cheeks.

they consider putting the drawings in a drawer somewhere - somewhere where they’ll be kept private; hidden. in the end, though, they remember that this is their flat, so they hang the drawings in their bedroom above their bed. little reminders of how far they’ve come.

finally, they’re done unpacking, and even stands in their living room and looks around, hair a little messy, forehead a little sweaty, but looking pleased with himself. and isak just stares and stares at him; can’t believe how lucky he is. how lucky they both are, really, to have found each other.

“what do you think?” even asks.

isak smiles. it’s not going to make it into a home decor magazine, put it that way. it’s a tiny flat; the wallpaper is peeling in places and the floor is scuffed and scratched, kitchen counter stained in places. but it’s theirs. the first place isak has ever chosen to move into - because he didn’t have a choice when he moved away from home for the first time, not really - and he just can’t help this little smile bubbling up at the thought of getting to wake up next to even every day, all days, forever.

instead of saying that outright, though, isak just shrugs and says, “it’ll do for now, until we can afford to buy our own house.”

even raises his eyebrows, moving forwards, standing closer to isak and smiling. “our own house?” he asks, a little teasingly.

“yeah, in like, ten years or whatever,” isak says, not embarrassed, really, because this is even.

“ten years?” even repeats, moving a hand under isak’s jaw.

“uh, ja,” isak says, smirking, pushing some of even’s hair behind his ears. “didn’t anyone tell you?”

even brushes his nose against isak’s, humming contentedly. “tell me what?” 

“well, we’re going to be together forever,” isak says, very matter-of-factly.

even raises his eyebrows. “forever?”

“ja. literally, forever,” isak says, looking at even through half-lidded eyes, kind of drunk on even’s presence, on how it feels to just be the two of them, here, in their own place. safe and together, surrounded by so much love.

even laughs softly, eyes sparkling. “what happened to not worrying about the future, and taking things day by day, minute by minute?” 

isak shrugs, eyes softening as even’s thumb brushes over his lips, settling against his cheek. “this minute,” isak says, “we’re going to be together for all time.”

{PART 25} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; Jungkook dreams of having the future with you that he always envied human’s of having. But as soon as he arrives home, his entire world - and everything in it gets turned upside down. He must make a choice in the face of evil; while evil holds you in its grasp.

“And he found strength in the only thing that he was powerless to; it had always, from the very beginning; been her.”

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time) 

{Part 1} //{Part 24} {Part 25} {Part 26}

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Imagine being mute and Daryl saving you from Shane's advances

WARNING : MENTIONS OF ASSAULT/ NEAR RAPE EXPERIENCE

(Wooo Daryl :3 and shame on you Shane -_- lol sorry I made Shane an ass but that’s the request XD so hope it is as requested and you all like it :D Gif not mine/found it on google/credit to the original owner.)

From the start of the outbreak, you found yourself being part of a group that had bonded over while stuck in the traffic.

Despite having difficulty communicating with them, as you were born mute, they had welcomed you and had found different ways to talk to you.

Over the time, you had grown close to Daryl, as he would often offer you help with whatever it is that you needed and just felt like he oddly got along with you a lot.

When he first met you, he was clueless about you being mute and simply thought you were quiet and someone who liked to keep to yourself.

He didn’t want to bother you with what might be some rude questions, so he just kept it to himself until one night by the campfire, he finally figured it out.

He notice how he had made you laugh but as no sound would come out, he forgot himself and asked you honestly, only to get an answer from the others around.

~~~~

Since, he felt even more attached to you and would do all sorts of thing to keep you safe. He had even taken the habit of learning sign language from you just to be able to understand you even more.

Although, he would be confused and just straight up be clumsy, it all made you smile to see his efforts and just as him you felt like you wanted to be closer to him.

You had even taught him something you had never had the habit to do for anyone else but your older brother, the sign you had both made up for “I trust you”.

You put your hand to his chest to feel his heartbeat and with your finger simply crossed an x on him and tapped three times for each of the words.

After explaining to him in your way how special it was, he caught onto it’s meaning and teared up with a big smile.

“You’re silly…Trusting me? You really feel that way?”

You let out a smile and nodded at him. Putting your hand to his, you did it one more time, making him grab your wrist to truly understand the meaning.

He pulled your hand away and reached over to do the same.

It didn’t make you feel uncomfortable whatsoever and neither did it him as to you both, it was the meaning behind the gesture that mattered.

“And I trust you as well…Y/N…”

He looked into your eyes after it and suddenly realized how he had been holding your other hand and got embarrassed about it.

You noticed how he changed and simply shook your head at him. It made him ruffle your hair jokingly and say, “Don’t shake your head at me…You get embarrassed too sometimes…I see you…”

As your smile came back, he laughed along with you and you both stayed by the fire for a little while before heading to your tents.

~~~~

As you sat there, smiling, someone else has had his eyes on you for a while. From his tent, Shane had witness everything and seemed to be particularly interested into seeing you being so casual about a man putting his hand to your chest.

It didn’t matter that it wasn’t sexual, he only saw it as an opportunity that he himself could have.

After Rick has introduced himself to all of you, Lori had dumped and pushed him away from her life and it just devastated him. He needed someone for a while and seeing you so comfortable around a man, gave him ideas.

~~~~~

With what had happened at the CDC and to most of your cars, you all traveled along the road to find a better place to keep you safe for the moment.

The weather was hot and the sun was starting to set, making Daryl move out to go get something to eat.

He quietly parted away from all of you and although you would want to follow him, he signaled you that he’d be back soon enough.

You nodded and with that, you were left with the others to help set up the camp. Suddenly, you felt Lori tapping your shoulder and as you turned to her, she kindly signaled you to help find some mushroom for the late dinner.

She explained herself that she had to stay by Carl’s side for the while as he had gotten sick. You nodded, understanding her reason and took the bucket she handed.

~~~~

You walked further away from the camp and carefully searched for whatever was edible, really.

You touched the ground to feel whatever you could in the grass and eventually got on your hands and knees to pick up the goods you found.

Without noticing, you strayed further from the camp, wanting to completely fill up your bucket. You heard some rusting and crackling of leaves here and there but simply didn’t put too much thought into it.

At some point, the noise grew closer and made you turn your head to check around. Nothing. You kept searching for a moment and heard it all again. You felt like leaving but as you turned around, Shane appeared in front of you.

It made you jumped but only served to make him chuckle. Taking a few deep breaths, you managed to “ask” him, as to what he is doing here.

He simply shrugged and titled his head to the side as it still made him laugh to see you. You were wearing shorts, your shirt inside your flannel was tight enough to give him an idea of your body and the fact that you were mute, made it perfect for what he had thought of doing to you.

Far away, from any prying eye, he knew he could finally make you his and probably even hurt Lori while at it.

With you signalling him your question, he decided to not understand anymore and just hinted at you as to what will come to you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N…I don’t get what you mean…”

He got closer as he said those words and made you back away from him. You knew something was off and strange about him and couldn’t let yourself down.

You responded in a more aggressive way and completely forgot about the bucket, as you let it drop to the ground, in order to use both your hands.

He kept walking towards you and claiming that he really didn’t understand your meaning. You shook your head at him and kept trying to push him away with your “words”, only to suddenly feel yourself being grabbed by the arms.

He hold you closely to him and you knew of his intentions. You panicked and tried to fight him off but it came to no use as he pinned you down to the ground.

He gripped your wrists to have more control over you and with a cocky smile, he said “Don’t fight it…I saw you with Daryl the other night…You like being touched by men, don’t you…”

He proceeded to slide his hand down your chest and instantly you tried to get him away from you.

You moved your arms as much as you could but nothing would seem to make him stop. Quite the opposite, he took it as a sign of to start kissing your neck thinking that it’ll calm you down.

You hated each instant of it and tried to butt your head against his but swiftly he’d move to the other side of your neck. His grip on you tighten when you would try to kick him off and and his lips would only suck on you harder.

You wanted to scream out but nothing but your faint strangled groan would come out. You heard him chuckle and he just had to taunt you.

“Poor you, Y/N…No one can hear you here…You’re stuck here with me…And after this…you’ll just want to be mine…”

He kept at it and you slowly felt yourself growing tired from the fight you put out and your grunts only made you breathless.

You felt his finger slide to your pants and into your panties, you were losing hope and thought of how much of a mistake you made, going so far off the tracks.

You thought as to what the others might say and think and knew he had you in the palm of his hand. With Rick being his friend and how close the others were, you didn’t think anyone would believe your side of the story and that made you tear up.

~~~~

You thought it over and over and tried to forget as to what was happening. Closing your eyes, you denied it until suddenly you heard some leaves rustling again and a familiar and angry voice behind Shane.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

In that instant, you felt Shane being lifted up and saw him being pushed to the ground.

It was Daryl and you couldn’t be any happier to see him. Daryl had straddled Shane and with no hesitation he started to punch him.

He didn’t had to witness all of it to know in his heart you wouldn’t have ever agreed to this. It angered him to see you being taken advantage that way and he couldn’t believe it would’ve been someone in the group.

He started to yell at him in anger and didn’t even wait for any explanation to keep going. Blood spewed out onto him but it didn’t matter to him.

He wanted to protect you and make sure that this kind of behavior never ever happens again.

“You think you can just take advantage of her like that? What the fuck is wrong with you!Don’t! You! Ever! Fucking! Touch! Her! Again! You fucking piece of shit! Do you understand!”

He yelled and kept striking him, making sure his message was understood. He didn’t feel his cuts stinging him so much he cared more to make you feel safe.

You closed your flannel to cover yourself and backed away from him. You didn’t want to stop him at all and just let Daryl take care of it.

Relief, was the only thing you felt to see him and couldn’t had hope for better.

Finally, after Shane had passed out from all of the pain, Daryl stopped. He took some deep breaths and tried to wipe the blood away from his face, only to actually smear it all over with his hand.

He looked for you with his eyes and just felt the need to go comfort you in that moment. He knew what it felt to be that scared, to think that you’re alone in the world and no one could hear you.

He got up and opened his arms as he slowly made his way to you.

“Y/N…you’re alright? Are you okay?”

You could hear and see the concern he had for you and it just made you weak. You couldn’t deny that you weren’t alright and just shook your head.

He finally got close enough to pull you in a tight embrace and you held onto his neck and shoulders.

You felt him stroke your hair and he reassured you that it’ll be okay.

“It’s alright…I’m here…Nothing’s gonna happen again…I promise…Okay…I promise…”

He pulled away to check for any injury to you and as he did, you felt your heart skip a beat and finally smiled at him.

It slightly unnerved him to see you that way and just asked you, “Why are you smiling…”

You wiped your tear away and shaking your head, you got shy from his question. You put your hand to his chest and slowly crossed on his heart before pointing onto him three times.

He understood your meaning and instantly teared up and smiled. He put his hand over yours and made it lay flat onto his chest making you fell his heart before nodding at you that he understands you.

He picked you up on your feet and just walked you back to camp, saying “Then you’ll have to trust me that from now on…I’m always going to take care of you…no more of this…”

Carousel | 06

Character: Min Yoongi x reader (oc)

Genre/words: Arranged Marriage! AU, Angst / 9,118 words

Summary: He is the successor of his family’s business empire, and you are the female heir of yours. After the trouble his older brother had created in the past, he now must face certain requirements needed for the sake of the family’s future and to save his rights of inheritance, and you become his only way out. Everything might seem so simple, just the way they are supposed to. But everything isn’t always what it seems, is it?

a/n: This chapter will show more backstories. And unlike the previous ones where I add the backstory at the front as an opening, the scenes will go back and forth as a filler. Flashback scenes will be written in italics^^

Playlist | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

Cr.


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“BATMAN IS NEVER JEALOUS” - Bruce Wayne x Reader

#5. “Who the fuck is this guy!? “My brother….” “Sure! Sure he is!”

Here we go for jealous Bruce Wayne, because that’s what this prompt inspired me to write. Boom, hope you’ll like it I’m a bit unsure about this one, feedbacks are welcome : 

(My masterlist blog here : https://ella-ravenwood-archives.tumblr.com)

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Damian was a bit confused. Usually, on patrol, they would like…do things. Catch criminals. Stop bank robberies. Save widows and orphans.

Yes, Damian was utterly confused as to why tonight, his father and him were following…his mom. Not Talia. You. He never considered Talia his mother, he came to that realization the first time you made him hot cocoa and cookies after he had a rough day, and just…talked to him. Asked him how he was feeling. Just genuinely cared for him, something Talia Al’Ghul never did. 

She was his mother, but you were his mommy. 

And so, tonight, as he was jumping from a building to another, following you through the dark street of Gotham, he wasn’t really sure what was going on. 

Oh my God…Were you a criminal ? Was he going to loose you because his father was going to put you behind bars ? But he loves you ! How could he ? 

If it came to that, Damian decided that he would fight his dad, giving you enough time to escape. Yes. He would save you. There was no way he was letting his mommy go in prison, no matter what she did…

His father was talking to Dick about something happening in North Gotham. He then proceeded to call Tim to ask him to go to the docks join Jason because some big drug deal was going on…And once again, Damian wondered why they were tracking you instead of taking care of the real issues. 

He looked down in the street, you were at a small cafe, ordering a huge cup of coffee, that he knew was probably the blackest beverage ever. You liked it that way. But that’s it. You were getting coffee. Sure it was 10:30 pm but like, you couldn’t always just stay at the Manor right ? You’d be bored ! 

Besides, you were a writer, you often came to get coffee at night with your notebook, you always said it brought you lots of inspiration (he loved your stories, and was your number one beta reader). 

It wasn’t an unusual thing for you to be out, getting coffee (even if Gotham was dangerous at night, you knew how to defend yourself thanks to your Husband’s training, and besides, one of your sons kinda always had an eye on you anyway…just to be sure), so again, why were they here ? Why weren’t they on the docks, with Tim and Jason, to fight some real criminals ? 

Bruce refused to let Damian patrol alone so far, which is why he was with him, but usually, he’d explain what was going on you know ? Not able to contain himself anymore, Damian asked : 

-Father…why are we spying on mom ? 

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stormy nights || stiles stilinski (smut )

word count: 3550

prompt: my smut for lacrosse week!

warnings: smut, swearing

author’s note: this is my first solo smut and i hope you guys like it! let me know if i should keep writing smut. please leave feedback on this!

masterlist

coming soon

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Shock Horror

(Gif source: x)

Characters- Dean x Reader, Sam
Summary- Dean comes back from a witch hunt not quite himself. You do your best to help, and hope that it’s enough.
Word Count- 1,889
Warnings- Angst, Fluff, Language.
Beta- @jpadjackles  **re-edited**
A/N- Prompt: ‘Caught Up In You’ by 38 Special Requested by @anon. I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! Also, thank you all so much for 2.5k followers! I love y’all so much <3


As you crouch in front of the open passenger door, you look over the man in the bench seat. The man you see is far removed from the usual Dean Winchester you knew. He’s eerily quiet, sitting stiffly as he stares, unseeing, out of the windshield. The impala is parked in the bunker’s garage, but he just sits there, motionless, except for the occasional lethargic blink.

When Sam and Dean came back from their hunt, you expected them to be in one of two moods. The first and most preferred was the giddy excitement of a job well done, beers and pie all around. The second was less desired, the quiet thoughtfulness of a rough hunt.

Right now you would take the quiet over this.

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anonymous asked:

Also....I have one more. What about assassin andrew being sent to kill neil but falls in love instead au ❤❤❤

Mostly, Andrew Minyard slits his marks’ throats. One clean slice on the side, a severed carotid artery, blood flow to the brain cut off. A quick death. Not out of mercy, but out of necessity—cutting major veins is too messy, and severing a windpipe is too slow.

So Andrew Minyard goes for the carotid arteries. Mostly.

Neil turns to the next page in the folder. Some of Minyard’s earlier victims were strangled to death. A few have been shot, though likely as a last resort—police reports mention signs of a struggle, bullets in the back of the head like they were trying to get away.

Well, “victims” is a subjective term. Implies faultlessness. Innocence. Andrew Minyard’s victims are never faultless or innocent. Before the Moriyamas hired him, Andrew Minyard operated like a vicious Robin Hood, or a Batman-for-pay, taking relatively small fees to rid real victims of their abusers.

And now he’s after Neil.

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