cd stack

10 Gift Ideas for the Broke Person

Gift season approaches, and I’ve been struggling on how best to spend what little money I have on all the people in my life who I want to give holiday presents to. I’m sure I’m not the only one with this problem… so I thought I’d share some ideas.

1. Mix CDs - make your friends/family a mix CD with handmade cover artwork. If you can’t afford a stack of CDs, make a virtual CD and share the mp3s with them over Dropbox.

2. Homemade Cookies - Spending $7 on baking ingredients allows you to make a large batch of simple cookies. Divide them and use as gifts for multiple people. Throw on a handmade card and WHAM you got yourself a spiffy gift.

3. Cooking supplies - I’m not talking top of the line Kitchen Aid shit. Go to your local dollar store and buy things like wooden spoons, platters, funny mugs for under $5. Everyone needs at least some cooking supplies!

4. Cacti - Don’t go to a nursery, go to a grocery or department store with a plant section. Cacti are some of the cheapest and easiest to maintain plants, they only really need to be watered once or twice a week. And they look awesome. If the person you had in mind likes to cook, you might want to consider buying them some sort of herb like rosemary or thyme.

5. Bulk food - This might not work for everybody, but I’m sure your broke roommate wouldn’t object to a bulk package of ramen or mac and cheese. They sell 12 packs of ramen at my local dollar store for $1 each. ONE DOLLAR FOR TWELVE MEALS.

6. Unused Books - I’m betting that there’s a book in your apartment/dorm room that’s in perfect condition, but for whatever reason that you will never use again. Wrap it in some gift wrap and scrape off the price tag.

7. Spa Day - For those of you in relationships (or who feel safe touching your close friends/family in that way) make mock “spa coupons”. Offer services such as manicures/pedicures, hair stylings, massages, etc.

8. Use your talents - Are you an artist or musician of any sort? Make a piece of artwork or write a song. Buy a large piece of poster paper at Home Depot for $5 and make a funny collage full of inside jokes that only your friends will understand. Are you a knitter? Make mittens for people.

9. Weird clothing - Go to your local Salvation Army or Goodwill and spend a couple hours combing the shelves for weird items. Funny t-shirts, strange hats, etc. Don’t go to department stores looking for clothing, it’ll be too expensive.

10. “Fancy” Meal - Spend $20 and invite several friends/family members over for a fancy dinner. You don’t need to be a chef or to spend lots of money to make something “fancy”, just make the atmosphere “fancy”. Make pasta with some sort of red sauce and possibly meat. Insist that everyone dresses up, light candles, play jazz standards, take pictures- make a real night of it. 

ALSO! If you can’t afford gift wrap use newspaper. 

Tbh I think the people who work at Stellaworth know me “as that one chick trynna act all casual while she uses one arm to swipe the entire new releases aisle into her basket”… 🙃 ✨

noctuaknight  asked:

I want to get my friends and family something nice for Christmas this year. The trouble is I am broke and have no creative skill. Help?

10 Gift Ideas for the Broke Person

Gift season approaches, and I’ve been struggling on how best to spend what little money I have on all the people in my life who I want to give holiday presents to. I’m sure I’m not the only one with this problem… so I thought I’d share some ideas.

1. Mix CDs - make your friends/family a mix CD with handmade cover artwork. If you can’t afford a stack of CDs, make a virtual CD and share the mp3s with them over Dropbox.

2. Homemade Cookies - Spending $7 on baking ingredients allows you to make a large batch of simple cookies. Divide them and use as gifts for multiple people. Throw on a handmade card and WHAM you got yourself a spiffy gift.

3. Cooking supplies - I’m not talking top of the line Kitchen Aid shit. Go to your local dollar store and buy things like wooden spoons, platters, funny mugs for under $5. Everyone needs at least some cooking supplies!

4. Cacti - Don’t go to a nursery, go to a grocery or department store with a plant section. Cacti are some of the cheapest and easiest to maintain plants, they only really need to be watered once or twice a week. And they look awesome. If the person you had in mind likes to cook, you might want to consider buying them some sort of herb like rosemary or thyme.

5. Bulk food - This might not work for everybody, but I’m sure your broke roommate wouldn’t object to a bulk package of ramen or mac and cheese. They sell 12 packs of ramen at my local dollar store for $1 each. ONE DOLLAR FOR TWELVE MEALS.

6. Unused Books - I’m betting that there’s a book in your apartment/dorm room that’s in perfect condition, but for whatever reason that you will never use again. Wrap it in some gift wrap and scrape off the price tag.

7. Spa Day - For those of you in relationships (or who feel safe touching your close friends/family in that way) make mock “spa coupons”. Offer services such as manicures/pedicures, hair stylings, massages, etc.

8. Use your talents - Are you an artist or musician of any sort? Make a piece of artwork or write a song. Buy a large piece of poster paper at Home Depot for $5 and make a funny collage full of inside jokes that only your friends will understand. Are you a knitter? Make mittens for people.

9. Weird clothing - Go to your local Salvation Army or Goodwill and spend a couple hours combing the shelves for weird items. Funny t-shirts, strange hats, etc. Don’t go to department stores looking for clothing, it’ll be too expensive.

10. “Fancy” Meal - Spend $20 and invite several friends/family members over for a fancy dinner. You don’t need to be a chef or to spend lots of money to make something “fancy”, just make the atmosphere “fancy”. Make pasta with some sort of red sauce and possibly meat. Insist that everyone dresses up, light candles, play jazz standards, take pictures- make a real night of it.

ALSO! If you can’t afford gift wrap use newspaper.

Napkin List

summary: tony’s taste in music rubs off on bucky. much to his surprise, during a rock concert bucky catches the eye of y/n, an intriguing young girl who is planning to go out for drinks after the gig.  

pairing: bucky x reader

word count: 6k+

warnings: drinking, lots of people in a small space, accidental elbow in nose resulting in some bleeding, marilyn manson bc he should be a warning of his own luv him

a/n: i’ve been thinking about bucky developing an interest in pop culture and exploring things he likes and just becoming his own independent person for so long. this is basically a drabble about bucky becoming a rock music fan after hydra

It all started off when Steve decided to make Bucky a list of all the things he had to catch up on.

He got the idea from Sam, who helped him make a similar list for himself when Steve was first recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D.. Steve’s list was pretty short and undetailed; it took him less than a month to get through it, and frankly, once he reached the bottom, he felt as though he had lost a hobby he very much enjoyed.

That’s why, when sitting down to make a list for Bucky, Steve knew he had to make it long, detailed and interesting. First, he put down the obvious choices. Not only was he making the list to stop Bucky from pointlessly staring at the wall, but he also felt like after the many years that had passed, the two of them needed new things of common interest to talk about.

Things like Star Wars, Harry Potter, Rocky and Titanic were something Bucky had to get to know. Steve knew his best friend would appreciate the right amount of fantasty, action and romance movies on the list.

Steve sat and thought long and hard about the things Bucky would enjoy. He put down Jussaric Park, Pulp Fiction, Game of Thrones and Twilight which he personally found beyond interesting despite the rest of the team teasing him about it.

After over an hour of sitting alone at the kitchen island, chewing the end of his pencil and staring at the page in front of him, Steve heard the sound of footsteps approaching.

It was just Tony, taking a break from whatever he was doing in his lab in order to grab a drink from the fridge. When he saw Steve sitting alone, he glanced at the page he had in front of him with one dark eyebrow cocked.

”What do you have there?” Tony wondered aloud, sending Steve an expectant look before grabbing a bottle of ice cold water from the fridge. Tony unscrewed the cap, continuing to look at his friend curiously.

“I’m making Bucky a list of all the things he needs to catch up on. I pretty much have all the movies down, but I’m not sure what next.”

Tony thought about it for a moment, leaning against the counter with his arms folded across his chest. He hummed thoughtfully, tapping his foot against the black tiled floor and finally smiling a little.

”Music is a big one, and I think I might have a few ideas.”

And even though Bucky and Tony didn’t exactly get along, Tony knew what the ex-assassin would take an interest in. Tony and Steve sat together for almost forty minutes. Their time spent together consisted of Tony gushing about his favourite bands and Steve grimacing at the mention of their names.

Truth be told, Steve didn’t particularly like the music Tony listened to in his lab. Maybe it was the violent drums or the harsh guitar solos; or maybe just the fact that Tony had a habit of turning up the volume at three in the morning when Steve was trying to sleep. Whatever the reason, he didn’t think Bucky would be into this kind of music and he felt somewhat hesitant to put it down onto the page, scared that it might discourage Buck from exploring the rest of the list.

However, after a lot of nagging and elbowing in the ribs from Tony’s side, Steve rolled his eyes and scribbled down several of the bands the brunette recommended. And much to Steve’s surprise, within a week of receiving the list, Bucky was blaring Nirvana, Iron Maiden, AC/DC, Green Day, Slipknot and Sex Pistols in his room, and all Steve received was a knowing look of “I told you so” from Tony.

Every day during his morning run, Bucky would plug in his earphones and listen to another couple of songs by the bands Tony recommended. The unforgiving drums, the brutal thumps and fierce screaming pushed Bucky to run faster, feeling hot adrenaline pumping through his veins with each verse and line.

After a long, lively and frankly draining run, he’d return to the compound and toss his phone onto the bed, then switch on the stereo in his room, turn the volume up loud and head for the shower.

Bucky would listen to Tony’s favourite bands while training, while lying in bed, while reading books and even while trying to fall asleep at night. It was safe to say that within a few days he became a diehard fan.

By the end of the month, Bucky’s closet was filling up with new band t-shirts, and there was a growing stack of CDs on his bedside table.

Steve couldn’t believe how much Buck had taken to liking this violent music he personally couldn’t stand listening to.

Every morning he’d watch Bucky with utmost disbelief when he entered the kitchen in another band tee. In the following months, the guy had even started wearing black skinny jeans, which was something not even Natasha could wrap her head around.

She liked that Bucky was slowly finding himself and exploring his interests. But if three months ago someone would’ve told her Barnes, the born pre-war golden boy turned master assassin would become a rock band fanatic, she’d probably laugh in their face. Anyone would say it was the most unexpected turn of events.

So, when Bucky’s birthday rolled around, everyone pretty much knew what to get him. Whether it was band posters, wristbands, CDs or t-shirts, Bucky’s childish grin remained as he opened box after box of presents on his birthday morning.

Over the weeks between Buck receiving the list and his birthday, he had grown surprisingly close to Tony. Despite the rough start of their relationship, the two bonded over their shared love of AC/DC and every couple of days the two of them would hang out in the lab, talking, and sometimes Tony would even let Buck help him tinker with his work.

It wasn’t a surprise, therefore, that among the sparkly gift bags and wrapped boxes Buck was handed on his birthday, was a small present from Tony. It was an envelope with two concert tickets inside, a post-it with a message for Buck stuck onto one of them.

Your arm won’t be the only thing metal at the venue.

Bucky shook his head with a grin, glancing up at Tony and expelling a laugh. Tony only shrugged, obviously proud of his lame pun, a bright grin stetching across his face.

“There’s two tickets, and while I’d love to go with you, I’m afraid I’m busy that evening so you will have to take someone else,” the brunette sighed, honestly kind of bummed he couldn’t attend.

“Whose concert is it?” Steve asked, wondering briefly if he’d be able to withstand two hours of aggressive drumming and screaming.

“It’s Manson,” Tony answered casually as Bucky scanned the tickets. Tony was pleased with Buck’s reaction to the gift; a wide smile stretched across his face and he could already sense the soldier’s excitement.

“The murderer?” Steve cocked a brow, eyes narrowed. To say he was oblivious about this type of music was an understatement.

“Rogers, your lack of respect for rock music is honestly quite startling,” Natasha shook her head, smirking at Steve who only rolled his eyes. The redhead’s grin remained as she made her way towards Bucky and plucked one of the tickets out of his hand.

“Marilyn Manson’s career was at its peak during my teenage years so there is no way I’ll let you bring someone else,” she told Bucky with a threatening point of her index finger. The brunette only chuckled; he wasn’t going to protest in the first place. “I’m coming and that’s that.”

Another few weeks had to pass before the concert rolled around, and it felt that the more time passed, the more excited Bucky became. He hadn’t previously listened much to the artist they were going to see, but after listening to Nat ramble about how great the music was, Buck went on to listen to every single song on every single album.

It was a different kind of music to what he had previously been engrossed in. These tracks were filled with rage, and passion and emotion that Bucky always knew he felt but never saw the need to express. This type of music, the lyrics and the fast beat was perfect for late night training sessions with a punching bag, his knuckles aggressively slamming the cold surface until the bag would fall to the floor.

The music made Bucky want to scream; to express his frustration and anger in a way that didn’t involve hurting others. He wanted to punch and kick and scream and shout until he couldn’t no more, and then lay on the floor, feeling nothing but utmost calm.

This type of music allowed him to deal with his rage and angst without hurting anyone and honestly, Bucky found the feeling to be addicting.

So, when the night of the concert finally arrived, Bucky couldn’t stop the feeling of adrenaline and excitement from making his heart beat faster as he pulled on a Manson t-shirt and tied his hair into a low bun.

Natasha was waiting for him downstairs when Bucky emerged from his room and they spent the duration of the ride to the venue discussing their favourite songs and wondering how the night would turn out.

Bucky had to admit he was a bit nervous to attend. Sure, he loved the music and to hear it live was something he yearned to experience. However, he was a bit anxious about the packed venue, the screaming and pushing crowd. He wasn’t exactly a fan of small spaces but he hoped this wouldn’t ruin his night.

He was also quite scared of standing out. He half expected the venue to be filled with teenagers covered in eyeliner and college students who reeked of alcohol and cigarette smoke. He didn’t exactly fit either of these descriptions and with Natasha - who always knew how to blend in - by his side, he wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of being the only person over the age of twenty five there. Let alone the only person over the age of one hundred.

However, upon their arrival, Bucky and Natasha found themselves being welcomed by a group around Nat’s age who seemed to be just as excited to see the performance as they were. They were a nice bunch and Bucky liked the jokes they made and the fact that they included them in their conversation as they stood in the queue outside the venue, waiting for the door to open.

Just as expected, the place was packed by the time everyone was let in, but somehow Bucky and Nat found a spot to enjoy the concert from less than five rows from the stage. They were standing to the left of the stage, and when the music began to play, Bucky was thankful they were this close to the bar.

For almost an hour Buck and Nat screamed along to the lyrics, clear plastic cups of beer in the air, long hair falling in front of their eyes. It wasn’t long before Bucky spotted some guy with his girlfriend on his shoulders and soon he was yelling into Nat’s ear, telling her he wanted her to get up onto his back.

Unfortunately, only moments passed before one of the security guards told her to get down and although Nat wanted to tell the bald guy to piss off, she didn’t want to get kicked out of the venue. And while they were disappointed for a while, their dismay quickly evaporated when Bucky did the unbelievable and got into the mosh pit in the centre of the crowd.

Nat watched from the sidelines, trying to keep her eyes on Buck and failing miserably when he disappeared among the chaotic crowd. When he returned, his hair had completely fallen out of its original bun and Buck had lost the beer he once held.

“Didn’t take you for a mosh pit kind of guy,” Natasha yelled to him over the piercing music, and Bucky laughed as he tried to catch his breath.

“I think I elbowed some guy in the stomach,” he admitted, his wide grin remaining. His face was reddened from the heat of the venue and adrenaline. Bucky had never felt so alive; not even during missions and he promised himself he’d attend more concerts from that moment on.

“These things can get pretty violent,” the redhead screamed back, taking a sip of her beer. Bucky’s eyes fell upon her plastic cup, noticing that she was slowly beginning to run out.

“I’ll go get us more,” he shouted, and Natasha nodded, turning her attention back to the stage.

Buck’s heart thumped rapidly as he pushed through the crowd, his smile wide despite the apologies tumbling past his lips for stepping on people’s feet. His hair was sticking to his face and neck, and his fingertips burned his skin when he touched his cheek. However, despite the high temperature, Bucky felt beyond fantastic and he didn’t want the gig to end any time soon.

Finally, after what felt like minutes of pushing through the crowd, Bucky reached the bar and slowly made his way towards the counter. His grin remained as he waited for the bartender to get through the people ahead of him, rushing to get everyone the right drinks.

He continued to watch the concert from his spot in the queue, tapping his foot to the beat of the song until he felt a tap on his shoulder.

He turned his head slowly, eyes falling upon a girl in denim shorts and fishnet tights, looking up at him with a bloodied tissue pressed to her nose.

“Just thought I’d come say thanks, eh, for breaking my face,” she announced, and despite the crimson tissue covering the lower half of her face, Buck could tell she was frowning. He could already feel the colour draining from his face, his lips parting in utter surprise.

Up until that moment he was convinced he had elbowed the blonde guy with the dreadlocks next to him in the mosh pit. What he didn’t expect was a girl the crowd could’ve easily squished in the pit.

“I’m so-” he began, wanting nothing more than to apologise but she cut him off, removing the tissue from under her nose to reveal an amused grin. She laughed heartily, obviously satisfied she succeeded in scaring him.

“Sorry?” She finished for him, one eyebrow cocked. “I figured. I’m Y/N, by the way. Nice shirt,” she nodded to what he was wearing.

When Bucky looked down, he realised they were wearing matching t-shirts, excepts hers was tucked into her denim shorts and she was wearing what looked like a long sleeved fishnet top beneath it. She was wearing a damn lot of fishnet and her heavy boots told Bucky she knew how to avoid getting her toes stepped on during concerts like these. She obviously felt at home at the venue and Bucky wondered if she was a frequent concert goer.

“Thanks,” he smiled back, laughing a bit. “I’m Bucky.”

Her eyes narrowed a bit as she studied him and for a moment the brunette felt somewhat awkward. Her eyes trailed from his face to the metal arm poking out from beneath the sleeve of his black t-shirt. She didn’t gawk at it as expected, just acknowledged its presence since she hadn’t noticed it before and lifted her gaze back up to his face. Bucky was thankful.

“Bucky Barnes? I knew you looked familiar. Big fan of your work,” she nodded, and he laughed quietly at her statement. Bucky glanced away when the music stopped, signalling a small break for the artist. Green smoke began to cover the stage like a sheet of radioactive fluorescent snow, the noise of chatter and laughter becoming louder. Buck noticed that a number of individuals were heading towards the bar where he was standing.

“A Manson concert would be the last place I thought I’d run into you.” She dabbed her nose with the tissue one more time, realising that it was no longer bleeding and releasing a contented breath at it.

“A Manson concert would be the last place I thought I’d find myself at less than two months ago,” he joked, his grin widening when Y/N laughed at his comment. “I’ve been exploring different rock and metal bands lately. We didn’t really have those in my day.”

The two moved up in the queue and Bucky was glad the younger girl followed him, continuing their conversation.

“Well, I can assure you there are plenty of them nowadays. I could introduce you to some really good, less known bands if you want. I’m here for different gigs every couple of weeks. My dad owns the place.”

Bucky smirked knowingly. “I had a feeling you came here often. You look like someone who knows their music.”

She shrugged her shoulders and Buck’s smile remained as the bartender approached them. He was a tall guy with dark hair and a white cloth draped over his shoulder. He nodded at Y/N, obviously knowing her well and asked Buck what he could get him.

“Actually,” Y/N cut in, flashing a bright grin. “I’d appreciate if you could get my friend here,” she placed a hand on Buck’s shoulder to prove her point, “and whoever he came with free drinks.”

The guy behind the bar chuckled at her typical antics. She had a habit of bringing friends to gigs and letting them drink for free. The bartender was familiar with all her friends but Bucky was a new guy. Despite this, he wasn’t going to protest.

“Friend, huh?” Bucky cocked a brow when the bartender left to pour them their drinks. Y/N ordered vodka and coke for herself while Bucky went for beer again.

“Don’t make me change my mind,” she pointed her index finger at him threateningly and both of them laughed.

“Anyway,” Y/N began after a moment of silence, and Buck could sense her change in demeanour. She bit her lip nervously and rocked on the balls of her feet. “My friend noticed it was you who elbowed me in the nose and she convinced me to come and talk to you.”

Bucky raised a brow, eyes narrowing. “Why?”

She chuckled, avoiding his gaze. “We thought you were cute and I kind of wanted to ask what you were doing after the concert. My whole group of friends are heading out for drinks and I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come?”

When Bucky hesitated, she tried to recover.

“I mean, it’s cool if you don’t want to. I totally understand. I thought maybe I could tell you about all those other bands I mentioned over a couple of drinks.”

She looked to the ground nervously as Bucky continued to stare at her as if she had grown another head. Was she asking him out? This was certainly unexpected.

“That sounds… interesting,” he nodded his head lightly, the corners of his lips curving upward. “I’m here with a friend, though. She’s gonna have to get home on her own.”

“She can come,” Y/N quickly piped up, smiling encouragingly. “The more the merrier.”

He laughed at her words, turning his head slowly when the bartender placed their drinks on the wooden bar. They reached out at the same time, grabbing their plastic cups and thanking the guy politely.

“I’ll find her and ask her about it,” Bucky announced, noticing that her grin was growing. “I’ll meet you outside after the concert?”

“I’ll be there,” she nodded solemnly, pressing her cup to her lips and slowly walking away to find her other friends.

It took Bucky another five minutes to locate Natasha among the crowd and by the time he reached her, the music break was almost over. She was indulged in a conversation with a guy with shoulder length blonde curls and glasses, laughing at something he said when she finally spotted Bucky approaching.

“Thanks Buck,” she smiled gratefully when he handed her the beer, then diverted her eyes back to her new friend. She introduced the two to each other and just as Bucky was about to ask Nat how she’d feel about going drinking after the gig, another person joined the conversation.

“So, you’ve found my shameless flirt of a cousin,” Y/N announced, smacking the blonde guy across the head. She introduced herself to Nat who shook her hand politely, then glanced at Bucky questioningly.

“And? Are you two gonna join us tonight or did this moron completely discourage you from it? I can assure you, the rest of the group isn’t as lame as this guy,” she told Natasha with a smile, forcing her cousin to roll his eyes at her.

“Join you where?” The redhead looked from Y/N to Bucky, waiting for one of them to elaborate.

“Y/N here invited us to join her and her friends for drinks after the gig. I elbowed her in the nose in the mosh pit,” Buck explained casually and when Nat looked at Y/N, the younger girl shrugged her shoulders.

“I should’ve punched him back instead of asking him out for drinks but I don’t think that would’ve worked out in my favour.”

Natasha’s lips curved up into a smirk and she sent Buck a knowing look. In response, the brunette looked at her questioningly. It seemed that something he couldn’t exactly pinpoint was going through Nat’s head and it made Bucky curious.

“I’m down for joining you guys,” Natasha nodded enthusiastically, and Y/N smiled brightly at both of them just before the music started again.

For the remainder of the concert Y/N and her cousin remained in close proximity of Nat and Bucky. The brunette couldn’t help but laugh at their passionate screaming of the lyrics at each other’s faces and when the concert ended, Bucky noticed that her face was red and her voice was lower from all the yelling.

Y/N led the way outside where the rest of the group waited for them; two guys and a girl, all of them in their mid twenties. Bucky and Natasha walked side by side as they approached the group.

“Steve is gonna be furious when he finds out you went out with a hot girl without telling him about it first,” Nat proclaimed, nudging him slightly with her elbow. “This whole thing is so spontaneous. I like it.”

They were introduced to the rest of the group and Bucky felt a little anxious when Nat abandoned him to walk with the curly haired guy from earlier on, but his worries melted away when Y/N appeared at his side.

“Turn that frown upside down,” she told him with a chuckle, studying his face until he did, in fact, smile.

“I’m the one who should be frowning,” she added. “My nose still tingles from the impact.”

Everyone seemed to be walking in pairs down the sidewalk and somehow Bucky and Y/N found themselves at the very back of the group. It was almost midnight and it was pretty darn cold, but thankfully the bar was only a few blocks away from the concert venue.

“For safety reasons I won’t be getting into mosh pits any time soon,” he laughed quietly. The group made a sharp turn to the left and suddenly they were entering a building Bucky had never noticed before despite walking down this very street on multiple occasions.

In contrast to the outside, the bar was warm and there was a bunch of people inside. Some were drinking at the bar, others munching on burgers in booths, a few standing around the mechanical bull in the centre of the room. The group quickly dispersed; Bucky noticed Nat heading towards one of the tables with her new friends, and the majority of the group made their way towards the bar.

“I think I’m in the mood for tequila,” Y/N said thoughtfully and Bucky nodded in agreement.

“Alright,” he answered. “How about you go get us a seat and I’ll grab us drinks?”

She didn’t say anything before nodding and walking off in the opposite direction. The queue at the bar was ten times smaller than the one at the venue and within moments Bucky was making his way towards where Y/N was already situated.

She chose a tall round table with giant stools on either side and a napkin holder perched in the middle of the circular surface. Bucky carefully placed the tray with six shots of tequila on the table and slowly took a seat.

The first shot made Bucky’s eyes screw shut and he thanked heavens for the sour lime which combated the bitterness of the drink. Y/N laughed at his expression, placing her own slice of lime in the now empty shot glass and blinking back tears at the sourness.

“Not a fan of tequila?” Y/N quirked a brow, pushing the first shot glass away and smiling in amusement.

Bucky shuddered. “I’ve never tried it before. It’s surely… interesting,” he announced with a nod.

“Not once? How did you know the salt came before the shot and the lime came after?”

Bucky’s cheeks reddened as he licked the remaining lime juice from his tingling lips. The alcohol made his insides warm and his tongue burn.

“I watched someone do a shot of it at the bar,” he admitted sheepishly and laughed at himself when the girl sitting opposite him expelled a quiet giggle. “I’m not much of a drinker. I mean, I like drinking, just don’t know much about it.”

“Neither do I. My knowledge of alcohol doesn’t go beyond vodka, tequila and rum,” she shrugged her shoulders. Bucky smiled at that and watched as she plucked a triangular folded napkin from the centre of the table. She placed it in front of her, smoothed it out and lifted her head.

“Oi,” she called out and immediately one of the guys they had arrived with was at her side. He was an artsy looking guy with blue hair and a brown leather messenger bag on his shoulder. He had a beer in his hand and seemed like the most quirky out of the whole group.

“Give me a pen,” Y/N told him with a grin and the guy didn’t say a word as he reached into his bag, pulled out an old, ragged, doodle covered notebook and found a black pen inside it. He handed it to Y/N, shook his head at her antics and walked off.

“He writes poetry. Really, it sounds as if he had swallowed a dictionary and started vomiting up words no one has ever heard of, but no one dares tell him they don’t understand it,” she chuckled, clicking the pen and taking a breath.

She looked to be deep in thought for a moment before finally pressing the pen to the napkin and beginning to write.

Bucky watched in awe as she scrunched up her face in concentration, her hair falling in front of her eyes as she wrote. He placed his elbow on the table, rested his head on his hand, and watched silently as she messily scribbled down song title after song title.

“I’m sure you’ve heard a few of these songs already but they’re my personal favourites and I couldn’t risk you going off and not knowing them,” she joked, cursing when the tip of the pen accidentally tore a bit  of the napkin, creating a small hole. As she continued to write, Bucky could see that the napkin was already covered in ink splotches.

Halfway through the creating process of the list, Y/N took a break and they downed their second shot of tequila, and soon after, the third. It wasn’t long before Y/N disappeared from the table and headed to the bar, getting them another round of drinks, this time coming back with blue cocktails with tiny umbrellas and a ton of ice.

“I told the bartender to surprise me,” she giggled, setting the bright drink in front of Bucky who studied it carefully before pushing the red straw past his lips and sucking. It was good, and by the time they were halfway through their first cocktails, Y/N was already calling the attention of the bartender and asking for four more of the same drink.

When the list was finally finished, covering the entire surface of the now unfolded napkin, Bucky’s head was buzzing and Y/N was telling him stories about her dog who Bucky was begging her to let him meet.

Buck liked the way in which the conversation seemed to flow between them; so easy and casual. They didn’t discuss any difficult topics that could make him feel uncomfortable, just funny stories and silly jokes. Bucky felt beyond relaxed and when the clock struck 2am, Y/N got up from her seat, took Bucky’s hand and began to pull him towards the mechanical bull.

At first he didn’t understand why she’d taken such an interest in it all of a sudden, but when they got close enough and he noticed Nat struggling to stay situated on the animal’s back, Bucky’s bark of laughter was enough for Nat to make eye contact with him, lose her stability and fall onto the padded flooring.

Her shoes were gone, her hair was a wild mess and her eyes glowed with intoxication.

Y/N’s cousin jumped over the railing and hurried to Nat’s side, helping her up and laughing when she did, too.

“Can’t believe she hadn’t punched him for being annoying yet,” Y/N proclaimed, shaking her head in amazement. Then she turned to Bucky.

“Ten bucks says you won’t be able to last a minute on the bull,” she challenged, a smirk on her face.

Bucky cocked a brow. “Ten bucks? Please,” he scoffed, drunkenly scanning the mechanical beast with its furious eyes and red saddle. It seemed that the inanimate bull itself was looking at Bucky with a challenging smirk.

“Let’s bring it up to ten bucks, meeting your dog and…” he paused for a moment, wondering briefly what else could he claim as his prize. His eyes scanned the room. “If I win you’ll also read me some of your friend’s terrible poetry.”

“And if I win?” She asked expectantly, grinning up at Bucky.

“How about ten bucks, pizza and…”

“…And you’ll come to another concert with me,” she finished for him and Bucky pretended to think about it for a moment, swaying lightly on his feet, then nodded in confirmation.

“Deal,” he agreed, holding his hand out for her to shake which she accepted.

Y/N watched from the sidelines as Bucky climbed over the railing, nodded to the guy controlling the bull and clumsily got onto it. He held on tightly, sweaty palms sliding on the smooth surface of the animal’s horns and he winked cheekily just as the bull began to move.

Y/N laughed and watched in disbelief as Bucky swayed back and forth, left and right along with the bull. His hair was falling in front of his eyes but he seemed confident enough, steady on its back despite his drunken state. That is, until he decided to show off and let go of the animal with one hand, lifting it up into the air. The bull threw him off with so much force Bucky landed on the floor with a loud thud, laughing as he rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling which seemed to dance above his head.

Y/N walked around to where he was situated on the floor and climbed over the railing.

“57 seconds. You were almost there.” She held her hand out for Bucky to pull him up but when he took it, he tugged her down onto the floor instead. She fell next to him, laughing.

“Let me catch my breath,” Bucky announced, one hand on his stomach, the other still clutching hers. He stayed on the floor for less than ten seconds before they were ushered off the padded flooring by the guy in charge of the bull.

“If I drink anything else,” Bucky began, helping Y/N climb back over the railing, “I’m going to throw up.”

She nodded in understanding. “Just watching you get thrown around like that made me nauseous.”

“Well, it looks like you won so how about we get out of here and get pizza?” Bucky proposed, honestly kind of surprised with his confidence. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or maybe just the fact he felt so comfortable around her. Whatever the reason, he didn’t protest when she eagerly nodded her head, grabbed his hand and led him towards the exit.

On their way, Bucky made eye contact with Natasha who stood across the room and who shook her head in disbelief when she noticed him leaving.

Outside, it was even colder than before but the alcohol blurring Bucky’s thoughts made it harder to notice. They walked hand in hand down the sidewalk, the now empty streets lit up by flickering lights. They continued talking, Y/N playfully teasing him about his inability to stay up on the bull and him challenging her to try it herself the next time they’d visit the pub.

By the time they reached the restaurant they had become closer friends than Bucky thought possible.

Y/N was the one to pick the restaurant, a small 50s style diner with red and white striped seats and funky decorations. It was empty apart from another couple of young adults who sat at the back, probably as drunk as them.

They ate in silence, until Bucky dropped pepperoni on his jeans and Y/N laughed at his clumsiness, adding to the mess by throwing a french fry at his head, the golden snack getting tangled in his hair.

“Gross,” he commented, attempting to remove it and then tie his hair back to protect it from another french fry attack.

Y/N laughed, and Bucky did too, grabbing a spoon and stealing some of the younger girl’s ice cream which she hadn’t yet gotten around to eating.

“Rude,” she narrowed her eyes and it was his turn to laugh.

Seconds passed, then minutes and finally an hour. The moments spent together seemed shorter than they’d expect them to be, and with each bite of crispy pizza it was getting closer to the time they’d have to part their ways.

Bucky didn’t want to leave her and honestly, Y/N hated the idea of going home and probably never speaking again. After all, they were strangers who spent one drunken evening together and in the morning they would go back to being who they were before.

So when the owner of the diner announced they were closing up and Y/N and Bucky were faced with the fact they had no where else to visit that night, they left walking side by side and continued talking until they reached a taxi parking. There, they said their goodbyes and got into separate vehicles, Bucky driving off first with the napkin she had given him clutched in his hands.

He smiled contentedly as he scanned the titles in her messy writing, a few doodles of stars and smiley faces from when she was trying to think of more songs and had to take a break from writing.

He got home just before 4am and his smile remained as he quietly tiptoed through the halls of the avengers compound, closed his bedroom door and collapsed on the bed. He stared up at the ceiling, clutching a pillow to his chest, still in his jeans and shoes and just smiled.

He smiled because he had made a friend with whom he could be comfortable, who didn’t pester him with questions and with whom he could indulge in his interests. Bucky’s grin didn’t falter when he picked up the napkin again, unfolded it, shook his head at her messy writing and continued to read the titles.

And there, at the very end of the list, among splotches of black ink, doodles and small holes in the paper was a phone number, followed by the simple words, “call me so we can figure out what concert to go to next”.

Gorillaz Aesthetics
  • Murdoc: Leather jackets, bruised knees, high heels, lips red from biting, piña coladas, Berlin, a rain soaked cigarette, old telescopes, scratched vinyls, whips, broken guitar strings, grandfather clocks
  • Russel: A slightly deflated basketball, marching bands, wheat, the embers of a campfire, the smell of cologne, stacks of CDs, used bookstores, skyscrapers in sunset, static on the TV, velvet jackets, silent films
  • Noodle: Fireworks, sequinned skirts, laughing so hard your chest hurts, bubblegum, a freshly sharpened carving knife, sailing boats, Polaroid photos, modern art, cat fur, smiling in anger
  • 2D: The smell of thrift stores, video tapes, Froot Loops, crumbling red brick factories, Camden market, humming quietly, silk shirts, Lego, bits of weed ground into the carpet, battered Converse, Sunday roasts, handwritten notes, diners
romeo and juliet: aesthetics
  • romeo: a disassembled jigsaw, bright pieces spread colourfully over a green blanket; lipstick marks from a good friend's mouth on one's cheek and brow; the heat of your own flushed cheeks; streaks of strawberry sauce in a banana milkshake, bright pink cutting through the yellow; a drop of sugar, sweet on the tongue and not yet dissolved into a sloppily made builder's tea; warm hands sliding under someone else's shirt; laughter heard on the wind, warm despite the chill of the breeze; the snag of his woollen scarf on her coat button in the midst of a kiss, followed by giggles and awkward shuffling; soft gasps in the dead of night; whimsical tales bound in high-brow black leather.
  • juliet: a white dress laid on a newly made bed; fresh-picked lavender and heather in a vase upon the sill, reflecting lilac against the windowpane; the warmth of a new fireplace; the scent of a summer breeze; a piano heard in the next room, fingers smooth against the clean keys; a series of cloth-bound books in every hue, clean of dust and shelved colourfully along the wall; drops of blue and pink dye into cake mix, showing swirls of colour in thick white with each shift of the spoon; baked biscuits, pressed flowers, the texture of parchment and the satisfying, smooth roll of a new pen over a blank page.
  • benvolio: the sensation of sliding into a hot bath after a long day; soft sighs into cups of steaming cocoa; shared smiles in the dark, laughter muffled by someone else's shoulder; the smell of old books and baking bread, clinging to a broad-shouldered jacket; a grip slightly too tight on your wrist, firm but not sadistic; a thick, red blanket laid over the back of a comfortable chair; gold braid in places gold braid doesn't need to be; a proffered piece of sweet chocolate that melts on the fingertips.
  • mercutio: glitter smeared on someone else's bedroom door; loud laughter heard just over a song's bass line; an affectionate hand sliding over a good friend's shoulders; freshly cooked lamb laid to rest on the kitchen side; bruises and scuffs that ache on the knees; a white shirt cut so low it might as well be an open vest; a stack of CDs and dog-eared books on a bedside table; an unmade bed with three people sleeping in a row, the cat laid over three feet and purring; a hot shower after coming in from the pouring rain; wide grins shared over good beer.
  • tybalt: the drag of eyeliner over sensitive skin; a bed made tightly with black shining sheets and a half-dozen pillows stacked neatly at its head; a bloody fingerprint on the spine of a well-loved book; the metallic hiss of a blade through the hair; dead flowers tied with ribbon in an antique vase; new shoes settled on a chair awaiting polish; a wardrobe full of crisply ironed, clean shirts; black hair, long and sleek and tied back at the neck; an empty photograph frame hung on a plain wall; a red ribbon curled around the stem of a champagne flute.

I am ACTUALLY fuming. Because when the leader of one of the most powerful countries in the world says that a mass shooting is not a gun issue but an issue of mental illness, we have a fucking problem.

He isn’t trying to solve the mental health crisis, oh no. Just use it as a scapegoat for the precious right to bare arms that our founding fathers did not intend to be as it is now. So now our president is fostering a culture where, when a preteen starts to notice mental illness symptoms in themselves, they are going to try to cram it down and ignore it, because they wouldn’t want to be seen as ‘dangerous’ or 'likely to snap’.

As if we weren’t bad enough for that. How often do you hear someone say “oh god you are so bipolar” when someone gets angry? Or “hahaha I’m so OCD” because you like to stack cds in alphabetical order? Or calling someone “psycho” or “schizo” when you really mean that they are a volatile human being with no morals? It paints mental illness as something that is either quirky and cute or something to be feared and hated with no middle ground for the normal people that struggle with it on the daily. This is not okay. It’s not okay that one of the most powerful people in our country is perpetuating this. If you are struggling, get help. Speak out. Scream it to the rooftops, that it’s okay to struggle, to not be well, it isn’t your fault and it. Is. Okay. God knows we need someone to.

Gibbous (Reddie/Stenbrough, Trans!Richie x Eddie/Stan x Bill) 2/???

Summary: The Losers Club is taking a long weekend away from their hometown of Derry and heading out into the forest to get some fresh air. Richie hopes he can put his past behind him and finally begin to start a future, hopefully involving Eddie. Bill is ready to be part of something more than himself; whether it be something as small as a relationship with a certain other member of the Losers Club, he doesn’t know.

Warnings: Dead name mention, mention of abusers, language, slight mention of weed, I think that’s it

Word Count: 1314

A/N: I never expected to get this much attention of this fic, but golly gee, y’all proved me wrong. I love you all! Enjoy chapter 2!

Richie smiled and tapped the steering wheel of his truck with his thumbs. It was moments like this that made Richie love his life; he was blaring “Dancing Queen” from his radio, beaming and dancing in his seat as his friends did the same, even Stan joining in and singing along to the song. All the way to the campsite, the group sang along to whatever came on the radio, and if they didn’t like it, they would talk instead. Richie felt more at home with them than he ever had with his parents. His friends were the ones who helped him cut his hair, order the right binder, find a loophole in the system for him to be able to start T shots; his parents refused to so much as call him anything other than “Rochelle”. Just the thought of his dead name made him shudder and caused his stomach to feel like it was full of stones.

The sound of Beverly’s voice singing out to Jessie J’s “Domino” broke him out of the train of anxiety-inducing thoughts. He took a deep breath and smiled, following Ben’s car up the hill and toward the group’s campsite for the weekend. Everything was going to be perfect; Mike was in charge of the food, assuring everyone that his famous cookies would make an appearance and that he could make the best campfire popcorn anyone had had in their entire lives. Ben brought extra pillows and blankets in case anyone got cold or they wanted to tell ghost stories- which he would most likely supply. Bill had a few tents piled in the bed of the truck, each would fit 2 or 3 of them. Bev had music covered, bringing her old radio and a stack of CDs in her backpack. Knowing Eddie, he had at least 3 first aid kits with him. Stan was going to lead everyone on a nature hike, being the boy scout he was. He had a display case in his room with all his badges, along with his uniform. He had long since quit, but he still liked to reminisce.

He kept tapping the steering wheel until he heard an advertisement come over the radio, shushing everyone and turning up the radio volume.

“Everyone shut up!”

“Yeah, and next week we’ll have live music from some local band. Uh, Flaming Uranus or something, I dunno, I forget. But they’ll be performing here from 6:30 to 11, so come get a drink and check ‘em out.”

“Fucking dipshit!” Richie spat. He turned the radio back down, “It’s calling Flinging Plutonium, dick wad!”

Bev chimed in from the backseat, “I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Rich. People will still come to see you perform.”

“The people we booked the gig with don’t even know our fucking name, Bev. Whatever, we’re still gonna kick ass.”

Stan snorted from his spot behind Bill, covering his mouth to hide a smile. Richie glared back at him, using the rear view mirror to send the look.

Richie followed Ben as he turned onto a long path leading into the forest. Beverly and Stan let their hands hang out of the windows of the back seat, brushing against leaves and ferns as Richie drove. Richie loved the smell of the forest, the scent of pine and warm soil reaching his nose. He couldn’t wait to spend 3 days out here.

Richie worked on unloading his truck while Bill and Stan set up the tents, conversing between themselves and chuckling occasionally. Ben and Mike teamed up to get the fire pit set up safely, leaving Eddie and Bev to help Richie. Just as the trio started to grab their backpacks, Bill spoke up.

“Hey guys, how are we pairing up?”

The group stopped for a moment, not having considered how they would pair off to share the tents.

Bev chimed in, “I don’t mind sharing for a trio, so whoever is fine for me.”

Ben grinned, hoping he might be able to share a tent with his favourite red-head.

“Well, I call sharing with my little Eds over here!” Richie chuckled, putting an arm around the shorter male’s shoulders and pulling him to his side.

“I swear to god, if you call me that one more fucking time I’m going to bash your skull to bits in your sleep,” Eddie retorted. He grumbled a little and shrugged Richie’s arm off him before adding, “Of course I’m your tent partner, moron.”

Richie beamed, planting a kiss to Eddie’s cheek before running away laughing from the smaller teen’s fury. He placed his backpack and sleeping bag inside the middle tent, “Hey Eddie Spaghetti, which side do you want?”

“What hand do you use for jacking off?”

“Right,” Richie smirked. “Why, sweet cheeks, wanna help?”

“I’ll take the right side of the tent,” Eddie plopped his backpack on the side of the tent he chose, ensuring he would be on Richie’s left side while ignoring the other teen’s comment.

“Thanks for sharing with me, Spaghetti man. Imagine if I had to share with Stan the Man, haha,” Richie unrolled his sleeping bag and put his backpack and guitar on top of it. “Nothing but birds and Bill, birds and Bill.”

“And with you, nothing but sex and my mom, sex and my mom,” Eddie rolled his eyes, teasing his friend.

“Aw, Eds, I promise I won’t talk about your mom. Or doing your mom. Scout’s honour.”

“You were never a scout, Rich.”

Before Richie could send back a witty retort, Beverly’s voice rung out from outside the tent, “Hey dipshits, we’re going to go swim. Wanna join?”

Richie grinned, grabbing swim shorts and a t-shirt from his bag, “I’m in, gingerbread!”

Eddie hummed a soft response, grabbing his own swim clothes before looking over at Richie and immediately averting his eyes, “JESUS CHRIST, RICHARD, WARN ME.”

“Aw c’mon Eds, you know you like the view,” Richie teased, wiggling his ass at the other, his boxers covering what his tugged down jeans didn’t.

“Richard, I, unlike some people in the room, respect privacy and modesty. Now if you could please turn around?”

Richie nodded, turning away from his tentmate. He knew Eddie was sensitive about these things.

Beverly wobbled on Ben’s broad shoulders. Bill laughed as he pushed back against her hands from the top of Mike’s own shoulders, Stan sitting on Richie’s off to the side. Eddie was the score keeper, watching the others chicken fight.

“You’re going down, Marsh!” Bill chuckled, reciprocating the force she applied to his hands and arms.

“Oh yeah? Take this!” She beamed, pushing the boy back into the water with a large splash.

Eddie grinned, moving his arms through the water, “Hey guys, is anyone else getting hungry?”

The others looked over, considering. They all nodded in consensus, muttering an agreement and working their way towards the shore of the lake.

Richie caught up with Eddie, grinning and humming a little, “What did you have in mind for food, my dear Eduardo?”

“I mean, we have noodles if we boil water over a fire,” Eddie trudged back towards to campsite, wrapping his towel around his small frame. His wet curls clung to his forehead, dripping slightly and leaving trails of water along his bare collar and shoulders. Richie couldn’t help but notice how the droplets magnified the sprinkling of light freckles on Eddie’s body, even on such a miniscule scale. He had stopped listening to what Eddie was saying, too preoccupied with the exquisite features of the boy he had admired for years now.

“Richie? Are you listening?”

“Hm? Yeah! Yes, of course Eds,” Richie gave him a cheesy grin as they all gathered at the campsite, Mike starting a fire in the pit they set up.

Beverly smiled as she grabbed her backpack, pulling out a small plastic bag, “So fellas….anyone wanna get blazed?”

Tag List: @edsrich​ @bxxpbxxprichie​ @liohprincexx​ @strangerbeeps​ @childishsoup​ @oopstoziertrash​ @trishadasta @beep-beep-gazebos​ @trashy-tozier​ @blubun​ @killerxqueer​ @gayknifeboy​ @ahyesfandoms​ @letgoofmygreggo​ @eddiekaspbraks-inhaler​ @littlepinkemily​ @toopunktolivetooemotodie​ @richiestoziers​ (If you want to be added or if I forgot to add you, shoot me a message and I’ll get you right on here for chapter 3!)

Baby Dunbar pt 4

So I’m thinking of making this like nine parts… maybe XD

I also made you Stiles’ sister. #noregrets

Kind of a filler chapter.

Word Count: 1116

You grabbed your purse and double checked to make sure you had everything.

“Okay, so, I’m going to grab some stuff because your werewolf stuff decides to devour everything in sight.” Derek winks at you. You blush and continue. “Then, I’m going to have lunch with the boys. I might bring them back so they can play with Liam. I guess you can train him or something, but be careful. He’s not a teenager anymore, he’s a child.”

Derek nodded and turned to Liam who was watching the TV, glazed eyes, binky in mouth. You nodded at him and walked out the door and to the motorcycle you had bought a while back.

Keep reading

PP1 Songs.

Making a list of the songs that are used in PP1, and in my opinion these songs I’m listing are what really give the movie that chill indie vibe. If you take a listen to them, you’ll understand where I’m coming from. 

1: In this scene, Punching In A Dream by The Naked And Famous can be heard. 

2: Moving on to Beca going into the radio station the music cuts to Keep You by Wild Belle

3: When Beca and Jesse talk the song is Don’t Move  by Phantogram 

4: When they’re stacking cds/records to song playing is Rome by Yeasayer

Made this list just encase any of you didn’t know the names of these songs, honestly they are now some of my favourite songs to listen so hopefully this helped you out? 

Also, I could do the same for PP2 if you guys want? Or if there is even another song in PP1 that I didn’t put on here. 


Totally forgot to add this song from this scene: 

5: Song used here is High Highs by Open Season 

Not Another Teen Cliché (That Ended Up Being Totally Not Cliché At All)

Based somewhat off this.
Title based somewhat off this

The whole thing was malicious.

Chloe had been sitting at her lunch table with her friends enjoying one of the last high school meals they would have at that specific picnic table in Barden High’s courtyard.

“Look,” Alice Peterson sneered, pointing to one of their classmates sitting alone under a tree.

“It’s that Beca Mitchell girl,” one of Alice’s lackeys said with a grin.

Chloe shifted uncomfortably on her wooden bench spot. She glanced across at Aubrey who was silent throughout the conversation, despite her obvious discontent with the conversation and the girl in it.

“Shame,” Alice shook her head rhetorically, “some girls just can’t be as attractive as we can.”

It was conversations like those that made Chloe question why she ate lunch with those girls three of her four years of high school. Why she was friends with them and why she even put up with them a little bit.

“Bet even you can’t make her pretty,” a lackey noted, nodding at the girl across the way.

Alice sat and contemplated for a moment. “No,” she scoffs for a moment, “but I bet I know who could.”

All eyes turned to the redhead.

Keep reading


Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: DeanxReader 

Word Count: 715

Warnings: fluff 

Request:  Dean X Reader that Reader is a professional ballerina, and one day Dean just catches her dancing through the bunker

Notes: I have never taken a ballet class so I’m sorry for the inaccuracies. 

(Credit to GIF owner) 

Sam and Dean had left the bunker for a quick salt and burn hunt which left you alone to do whatever your heart desired. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t know much more than hunting and reading which was the center of your life. You walked back to your room and flopped down on your bed, a huff of breath escaping your lips. You look over towards your side table which holds a little CD player and a stack of CD’s. Sucking in a breathing, you begin to flip through the CD’s even though you’ve listened to all of them countless times.

Your fingers suddenly cross an old and cracked case with a piece of tape across it. You run your forefinger over the sharpie on the tape in which read, ‘Swan Lake’. Your jaw merely fell to the floor.

“No way,” you muttered. This was your CD from when you used to do ballet as a professional. Eagerly, you popped the CD out of the case and put it in the CD player, turning up the volume as loud as you could. The sweet, melodic music soon came pouring through the speakers. A toothy grin on your faced, you rose to your feet and found yourself moving gracefully as the song played. Your arms reached out by your sides, fingers floating in the air. You took the CD player in your other hand and danced your way towards the center of the bunker, toes pointed to the floor.

After being out of practice for a while due to hunting, the muscles in your legs and feet began to twitch. You set the CD player down on the table and began to dance around the bunker, doing countless spins on the balls of your feet. You let yourself fall into rhythm with music, an endless trance that you didn’t want to wake up from.

*Dean’s POV*
Sam and I had finished the hunt quicker than expected. Luckily for us, the ghost was buried only minutes away from the house. We drove over to the graveyard, fried his bones and the haunting miraculously stopped.

I hopped out of the drivers seat of the Impala once we reached the bunker and handed the keys over to Sam, “Dinner is whatever you want tonight,” I said as Sam slid into the drivers seat. Sam smirked.

“Brave choice,” he laughed as he revved the engine of the Impala. I rolled my eyes and continued to the front door of the bunker. The metal door squeaked open followed by the melodious sound of ballet music.

“What in the…” I mumbled only to see Y/N gracefully dancing around the bunker. I rest my arms on the railing to the bunker and watch as she turns around the tables and chairs, arms floating out by her sides. She looked amazing, beautiful. A smile crawls across my face as I walk down the steps, making sure to keep quiet. I’m surprised she hasn’t seen me yet.

*Reader’s POV*

“Look amazing, sweetheart,” a voice calls from the entry to the bunker. You stumble over you feet towards the CD player to hit pause only to turn your head and see Dean walking towards you with a cheesy grin on his face.

“I..I was just putting this away,” you mumbled, gesturing towards the CD player. Dean smiles and walks over to you, hooking his onto your waist.

“C’mon I was enjoying the show,” Dean whispered, looking down on you. You shift your weight from side to side.

“Show’s over, okay? I was just practicing an old dance,” you say, trying to wiggle out of Dean’s grasp. Yet, Dean holds on tight.

“I didn’t know you were a ballerina,” Dean mutters, perking an eyebrow. You laugh, recalling your past history of tutu’s.

“I was, a very good one actually. I was once a professional,” you winked. Dean’s eyes widened as he reached over and pressed play on the CD player.

“Please, one more dance,” he whined as the music began to play.

You smirked and began to position your feet.

“Only if you dance with me,” you teased.

Dean shook his head, putting his hands out in front of his body.

“I don’t dance,” he grumbles.

You take his hand and pull him across the floor.

“Now you do.”

anonymous asked:

WAIT YOU TAKE WRITING REQUESTS ? if so could you do a kacchako married life with kids or pregnant ochako like i want a heartwarming katsuki fanfic pleaseeeee i would love it so much especially if you are the one who will write it really thank you so much for everything you do for this fandom , love you and looking forward for your respond have a nice day

Note: Hint of bakumomo brotp (thanks to blamedorange I can’t get it out of my head). Also comedic LOL You flatter me, anon! Your ask made me really happy. Enjoy the fic!! 

In which Bakugou gives her a surprise

               Her eyes skimmed over his credit card statement scrutinizing every letter and every number. While guiding with her finger, her brows scrunched together looking like she was solving the biggest puzzle of the century. What the heck did he buy at Future Electronics?

               “Katsuki,” Her eyes were still glued to the sheet, “Could you come over?”

               Bakugou grumbled a short ‘mm’ and slowly traipsed over. Watching as she lowered herself against the velvet cushion, her arms made way to rub her stomach in a round motion. She was due in 3 months and they both couldn’t be happier. The journey through motherhood was a difficult one; every morning she’d feel extra tired and she would have horrendous mood swings. Par for the course of being pregnant.

Fortunately, Bakugou was always there early from work. Given his amazing performance, his boss had no problems with him taking time off once in a while to take care of his wife. Yaoyorozu would visit a lot too and would constantly offer to buy baby clothes or any needed equipment that came to their mind. Bakugou once asked her to just create the items but Yaoyorozu, being righteous beyond words, would shake her head to refuse.

Appeasing Uraraka’s eye level, Bakugou knelt down beside her, a hand slowly stroking her voluminous hair.

“Why did you spend $120 dollars at Future Electronics?” She thrusted her lower lip forward looking as though she was expecting an elusive answer, “I don’t see any new electronics in the house.”

His lips curved into a small smile; toying with a brown tuff of hair on her head that was clearly out of place, he said “I got a baby monitor for the crib. The electric dolt was the one who recommended it ‘cas he’s using the same one with earphone tentacles.”

“Please call them by their actual names,” Uraraka commented. She’d been making progress trying to get Bakugou to act more civilized but seemed like Yaoyorozu was the only one who could give him etiquette lessons that he wouldn’t dare forget.

She turned her head over acutely; just enough to see his slightly pointed teeth. A blush grew on her unblemished cheeks as she recalled Ashido asking her if she ever found it hard to kiss him because of his badass demeanor. “Quite the contrary”, she remembered answering.

Shaking her head to pull herself away from her reverie, she found herself an inch away from his face.

“Jirou told me before her baby monitor was only 40 bucks,” she said, suspicious and she saw him dart his gaze away purposefully with a sigh.

“Fine, gimme a second.” He didn’t sound too compliant but he knew he couldn’t keep the surprise much longer. Standing up, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, head tilted high as he trekked up the stairs. Barely a minute after, he walked back down, head peering over the top of the cardboard box that he had enfolded in his muscular arms. The box he was holding sounded as if rocks were inside, rattling side by side.

With the heel of her palm, Uraraka pushed herself up but ceased halfway, halted by her husband.

“Don’t get up,” he called out, “I’ll bring it over. I was planning to surprise you.” He gave a pause, analyzing the wrinkles that appeared out of her confusion. True, he wasn’t the type to give surprises, usually. But marriage changes most people, right?

“I was reading an article in a magazine when I was waiting for your doctor the other day. About music and babies.”

He gradually lowered the box in front of the couch that was pretty much exclusive for her for the past half a year, “So apparently classical music makes babies smarter.”

He stuck his arm inside and retrieved a stack of CDs squeezed between his calloused fingers, “So hell with it, I got one of each CD on the shelf. You shoulda seen Kaminari’s face, he thought I was possessed.”

As he looked through the back description of each CD case one by one, Uraraka’s gaze fell on his gentle expression. If she were to tell people she wasn’t worried about being a mother, she would be outright lying. The thought of waking up every morning, caring for a new member of her family, let alone her own baby, was awfully daunting. Sometimes, when she was alone in the house after her husband left for work, she would curl up in an edge of a room and just sob, letting out all her stress. Whether it was purely out of nerves, or maybe the fluctuation of her hormones, she had yet to tell.

“I’m so happy,” she extended her arm over to squeeze his forearm, stopping him from studying the CDs, “You’re going to be a great dad.”

He knelt down again, “And you’re going to be a great mom.”

Maybe Yaoyorozu’s lectures on etiquette are working, Uraraka thought. Had it been 2 years ago, Bakugou would’ve swore up a storm. Both of them paused for a short while to grasp the moment with Uraraka still in awe of his compliment.

Bakugou cleared his throat, revelation arising like a light in the end of a tunnel, “Hey we gotta find the right name for our little troublemaker. We haven’t done that yet.”

She groaned, “Don’t call her a troublemaker please. I don’t want to jinx anything, which is a high possibility since she might take up after you.”

He let out a light chuckle and clicked his tongue, “If she looks like you, we’ll call her ‘Angel’.”

She smiled brightly at the cute suggestion but that was clearly the calm before the storm. His red eyes flashed ominously. She had been with him for too long to not know that something ridiculous was currently worming through his mind.

“If she looks like me…” his voice trailed off and he raised his arms in emphasis, “we’ll call her ‘King’!”

Uraraka jaw-dropped. Feeling an annoying twitch of a vein on her forehead, she buried her face in her palms and let out a frustrated yelp.

“Katsuki, would it kill you to let me feel sentimental longer for once?!”

About Town Pt. 1


Hiiiiiiii guyyyyyys, sorry! I’m not convinced I’ve kicked my funk just yet, but this prompt from @i-dream-of-emus piqued my interest, and got me to sit down and write something! It’s not done, I’ve started part 2 and sketched out where I want it to go, but I really wanted to get something out there, and this seemed like a natural pause in the story while I gathered my thoughts.

PROMPT: Rae is well-known by the staff of Town Records, and when they don’t see their most loyal customer for a couple of weeks they get worried. Some how, they find out that she’s in the psychiatric ward, and want to do something nice for her during her time there.

So, each week, a member of staff visits her at the hospital with the latest NME and Melody Maker, and the week’s new releases. Rae borrows the CDs for a week, then buys what she can afford of the ones she likes most.

And guess who is Town’s grumpiest / best-looking part-timer?

I didn’t keep exactly to the brief, and some of this will show up in the second half, but it seemed to scratch the itch of “What if?” for me. (Well, half-scratch … still got a bit of an itch.)

Not tagging anyone, but I’ll stick it on this month’s Round-Up. Hope you like it!

* * * * * 

It often takes awhile to notice when something’s missing. Like one of those “Can you spot the differences between these pictures?” puzzles they put in to pad out the Sunday papers. At a casual glance, it all seems the same, but when you have a think and start to really look, you see what’s gone from the scene, what’s been changed.

Finn chewed his thumb nail as he restocked the magazine rack with the shipment of latest issues.

“Dave?” He shouted to be heard in the back room.

A muffled “Yeah?” floated out of the half-open door.

“Where d’ya want me to put the Melody Maker Souvenir Issue? They sent us extras!”

Dave stuck his head out from the stock area. “They probably printed too many, the wankers.” He nodded to the counter. “Stick some by the till. Maybe we can shift ‘em as an impulse purchase.”

Finn nodded, chewing on the inside of his lip, now that both hands were occupied.

After stacking a bunch neatly on the counter, he plucked a copy from the top of the pile. Dave always let him have a couple of mags a week at no charge. For no reason he could name, Finn glanced guiltily at the open door to the back and slipped a second copy into his knapsack, then sat down at the stool behind the till, humming along to Elastica playing on the in-store speakers.

Waking up and getting up has never been easy,

Oh, oh, I think you should know.

Oh, oh, I think you should go.

Make a cup of tea, and put a record on.

Saturday mornings were always slow, but Finn liked putting things right round the shop. He’d straightened out most of the sections, filled all the magazine racks, even tidied the notice board. He wasn’t the most personable employee at Town, and he knew Rob generally liked a late night of a Friday, so he didn’t mind volunteering to come in at half-eight on a Saturday, even if he ended up bored for the last hour or two of his shift.

It also meant he could visit his nan after. Normally, he’d stop over at her cottage, which was much closer to Town than his own house, but she’d had to go into hospital for some routine tests earlier in the week, and they’d kept her over, saying they wanted to monitor some levels or something. It didn’t sound good, but they kept telling her not to worry, which she in turn told Finn, but his nails looked even more of a state than usual.

He was gnawing on another cuticle when Rob rocked up through the front door, looking rough but resigned to a full day of work.

He nodded at Finn, who nodded back, and then shoved the door to the back wide open as he went to deposit his stuff in his locker.

Finn didn’t have a locker, as he only worked about ten hours a week. His eyes flitted to the clock, and he was surprised to note that Rob had come in early. It wasn’t yet noon, and Finn was supposed to leave at one. Usually, they were ships passing.

Finn looked down at the cover of the Melody Maker special, the Brothers Gallagher staring deadpan back at him. The song changed over on the stereo system, and he could hear the clock tick a few seconds in the silence before Morning Glory (ironically) started up.

There were no customers in the shop, hadn’t been for most of the morning, but suddenly and unaccountably, it made Finn feel nervous, restless. He’d felt it was quiet for the past few weeks, really. It was like he was living the same Saturday over and over each week, waiting for … something.

Rob came out and plopped down next to Finn behind the counter, sighing.

“Y’alright?” Finn asked.

“Good as can be expected.”

Finn nodded.

“You?” Rob asked back.

Finn shrugged.


Finn sighed now. Rob was a decent sort, and there wasn’t anyone else about. “Me nan’s ill. Well, maybe not, but she’s in the hospital for a bit, I guess to make sure she’s not? Anyway.”

“Hey, that’s shite. Sorry to hear it. Hope she’s okay, yeah?”

“Thanks.” Finn shifted on his stool, still restless. “This place has been dead. Deader’n usual, even.”

“I know. Haven’t even seen that girl, you know the one, is it Mae?, come in recently. Have you seen her?” Rob asked offhand.

Finn froze. “Rae,” he whispered. That was it.

He’d kept having these weird half-thoughts, just glimpses flitting across his mind, of a figure with long dark hair, moving around the shop. But they’d been so fleeting, so transitory, he hadn’t been able to put his finger on it.

She rarely spoke to anyone, just sort of appeared, usually around noon of a Saturday, this sort of time. Sometimes he’d see her in the late afternoon during one of his mid-week post-college shifts, but she’d been a fixture on Saturdays until recently.

He furrowed his brow. “Yeah … I mean, no. It’s been a few weeks, at least. Wonder what’s happened to her.” As soon as he said it, he realized he hoped nothing had happened to her. That she just decided to spend her Saturdays somewhere else, or was out of town, even moved. Though, he didn’t really hope that last one.


She didn’t buy much, but when she did, it was something good. Something he could tell she’d thought long and hard about, having saved and researched and listened to as many tracks as she could before committing to it.

He distinctly remembered her being near the front of the queue for the new Oasis on release day back in October, though. He’d asked his dad if he could bunk off and work, so he could get his hands on his copy first thing in the morning, before the shop opened to the public.

“Remember when that last Status Quo album come out?” he asked, eyes pleading his case. “You moved your morning meeting so’s you could get it first thing.”

His dad had rolled his eyes but relented, as long as Finn promised to take the bins out for a month without his usual whinging.

And when he turned up at the shop, there was actually a line down to the chemist’s a few doors away. He’d felt special, being able to walk past the crowd and wave to Dave inside, who came over to let him in early. “Not your usual release day, eh?”

Dave grunted. “I noticed you pre-ordered one, too. You can have your pick of the discs, as long as you’re quick about it. I’ll have to let this lot in soon, or risk the wrath of Mr. Singh next door. They’re blocking his entrance.”

Finn ducked his head behind the counter and saw nearly a hundred CDs in neat stacks. Logically, he knew they were all the same, but he wanted the best one. He randomly picked the third one from the top of the second pile, inspecting the case for damage, the wrapper for tampering. It looked good–pristine, even. He slipped it in one of the paper bags by the till and put it in his own bag, in a pocket all by itself.

Even now, months later, he could remember that feeling of satisfaction after so much anticipation. Before he’d even listened to anything but the two songs released for the radio, simply possessing it—the mere possibility of how much he might like it–had been tantalizing.

He wasn’t precisely sure why his brain was hashing over that day on this day, until the memory expanded to seeing her, Rae, come in with her eyes shining and cheeks flushed from waiting in the morning chill for more than an hour. He remembered noticing her uniform, which he’d never seen her in before. She looked like she felt uncomfortable in it, but possibly a little less uncomfortable than normal, since she was getting to pick up this album.

Dave was running the till; Finn was bagging the CDs. It only took them about half an hour to get through the line, but the moment when Rae was at the counter seemed … well, memorable. After all, here he was, remembering it.

“Yours was the third name on my list for this, love,” Dave chided Rae as he took her bills and made change.

“Yeah?” she asked, “Who was ahead of me, then?” She was in a good mood, all smiles. Finn couldn’t remember ever seeing her smile that big.

“Just this one,” he hoiked a thumb in Finn’s direction, “And Rob, of course.”

Rae turned to look at Finn, probably reflexively, and their eyes met. “Felt like today’d never come, eh? Been waiting for this for months.”

That might have been the first time she’d spoken to Finn without him speaking first. And the only time he’d initiated conversation was likely to be part of a transaction.

Finn nodded. “I know! It seems like I’ve been waiting forever, but their first album only came out last August.”

Her lips closed over her teeth, but she was still smiling. Then she said, “Hard to believe—feels like I’ve had those songs in me head for years.”

It was his turn to smile. How was it he could remember this moment so clearly?

That was when the moment ended, however. The man behind Rae cleared his throat in irritation. “Could you two hurry it up?”

The smile fell from Rae’s mouth; Finn handed her the bag with her new music and, as she turned, he said, “Hey, lemme know what you think of it, yeah?”

The corners of her mouth lifted a fraction and he would have sworn she nodded as she turned to leave.


He’d known something was missing; how could he have not realized?

He supposed she had always just been there, in the background of the shop, quietly … existing. He was intrigued by her, sure, but she seemed pretty private, and he wasn’t one to press anyone. He was more of a hang back and let them come to him sort of bloke. She seemed cool, and he liked to idly speculate about her, but that had been good enough.

Rob sighed. “It is bloody dead in here, isn’t it?”

Finn nodded, feeling a little disoriented. It was, but he was wrapped up in wondering.

“You can leave early, if you want. I’m here now, and there’s no reason for the both of us to be bored senseless.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, escape while you can. Go see your nan.”

“Thanks, Rob. Have a good one—hope business picks up.”

Rob smiled. “Usually does.”

Finn shrugged on his jacket and slung his bag across his chest, then waved to Rob as he headed out.

His walk to the hospital was fairly short, and he was so distracted by thoughts that it seemed like he arrived in less than a minute. 

He started to walk down the hall to the nurses’ station to check in, when he saw a flash of long dark hair down the corridor off to his right. His head turned instinctively, and there she was, like he’d conjured her with his jumbled thoughts. She was standing next to a younger girl, head bent down to listen to the girl whisper in her ear.

When the girl was done, Rae straightened up, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she did. The hallway was dim, but for the spot they were standing in, an open door let the light from the courtyard windows in, and the light played across the sweep of her hair.

He was staring at her, mouth open, when she spotted him. He watched as she went from noticing him as a presence, then as a person, to the second she recognized him. Her shoulders hunched up, and she looked down immediately, as if not looking at him could make him not see her.

She didn’t last long before glancing up to make sure. He held up a hand in greeting, and she nodded. Her little friend looked up at her, her expression bordering on incredulous, before shoving Rae in the small of her back to propel her towards him.

Rae shot the girl a dirty look before dragging her feet down the hall.

As she approached, he began to smile. He was glad to see her, see she was … well, she might not be okay, as she was in hospital, and he could see her tag despite her long sleeves. But she was here.

“Hiya!” he said, brightly, his usually mumble gone for once. “Funny running into you, we were just wondering about you at the shop.”

Her eyes flew to meet his. “What? Why?”

“Well, we just … hadn’t seen you in a while. Sort of got used to you coming in every week. Saturday mornings are pretty boring without you.”

The expression on her face was impressive, but still hard to read. “Really?”

“Well … yeah. Sometimes you were the only customer I’d see before noon.”

She scoffed under her breath, and half smiled to herself. Then, suddenly, asked, “What’re you doing here?”

“Oh, visiting me nan. She’s … they’re observing her. For, like, levels, or summat.”

Rae nodded, like she understood. “Sorry to hear it. I won’t keep you. Nice to … I mean, thanks, or … whatever.”

She turned to walk away, and Finn found himself protesting. Out loud. “You’re not keeping me. I’m early this week. It were so dead, Rob said I could leave before one. I—“  

Rae pivoted cautiously to look at him while he floundered.

It was then he remembered the extra copy of Melody Maker. “Oh, hey! Do you, I mean, is it alright if I …” He fumbled with the clasps on the front of his bag. “I just happen to have an extra of this week’s …” He held it out to her, hopeful. “If you want it, that is. It’s a special edition, that’s why I grabbed an extra.”

Her eyes widened, then narrowed in suspicion for a split second. “You sure? It’s not for someone else?”

“No!” Why had he practically shouted that? “No, sorry. I just … grabbed two instead of one. I can always get another; they sent us loads.”

She turned to fully face him, but snuck a glance over her shoulder at her little friend, who was grinning down the hall at them.

“Well, thanks, then. I’ve been starved for news of these two for weeks now.” She gestured to the brothers on the cover.

Finn grinned. “They’re still the same old arseholes, far as I know.”

“Arseholes who can make some bloody great music.” Rae smiled back, holding the magazine close to her chest, like it was something precious.

“It’s good to see you, Rae,” Finn said. “Hope we’ll see you at the shop soon.”

Her eyes softened at that, and she nodded faintly. “Yeah, hopefully.”

He wanted to ask her why she was there, what was going on, but he had no right, and from the little he knew her, he knew she wouldn’t want him to pry.

He waved again; this time in farewell.

When he got to his nan’s room, he still had a smile lingering on his lips.

“You’re happy about something,” his nan teased, before he even saw her.

He dipped his head, shaking it in denial, but said, “Well, yeah, happy to see you!”

She gave him a knowing look, but didn’t question him, just held her thin arms out for a hug.

I’m Slurring on Purpose

Trimberly Songfic based on Bittersweet by P!@TD

Excerpt: “By the time the tests were finally taken and passed, all of them were ready to sleep through the entire break. That would come, but first, a celebration.”

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More Than That

Pairing: Yoongi X Reader
Genre: Smut, Fluff, a bit of angst and everything else
Word Count: 7,589K
Request: “Can I request some jealous Suga smut? Like you’re friends but he has a crush on you but doesn’t want to jeopardize the relationship until another guy starts being really interested in you? I’m excited to read more of your work! :)”

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Clay is haunted by the bloodied sight of Jeff. (HE WHO LIVES) His worried mother brought back his medication just in case he needed it. Clay was adamant about taking it again and he went off to blow some steam to his childhood friend, reader’s and his safe haven. Angst and Fluff ensues. Watch me add Jeff in everything jk

Everyday, I think about how traumatizing and devastating it is for Clay for being the one to find one of his close friends dead and then barely a month after the girl he loves is well you know. But enough with that! In this fic no one is dead. 

Warnings: mention of the accident 

A/N: This fic is based on Demi Lovato’s Nightingale, hence, the title. I hope you guys like it. Excuse my terrible attempt at writing a kissing scene.

Originally posted by lilpieceofmyworld

“Clay, honey, dinner is ready!” Hearing his name being called, he grudgingly sat up knowing that if he don’t move he won’t hear the end of it from his mom. He stood in front of a full length mirror checking if something was amiss before running down the stairs when he heard his name being called the second time.He sat in front of his mom while his dad sat beside him. Both of them looking at each other then to Clay who sent them both a questioning look. His mother placed an orange cylindrical bottle in front of him, looking him dead in the eye.

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so everyone is talking about their imaginary studios;

and i wanted to share with you my own personal story, that will probably turn into a ten page essay. but i want to prove to you all that if you believe in something, and in yourself, you can achieve it.

okay boys and girls, grab your refreshing beverages and get comfy because today i am going to be sharing with you the development of my (semi) imaginary dance studio history

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