2 | Jealous



warnings: graphic smut, dirty talk, spanking, oral sex, fingering, rough sex, asphyxiation (choking), ass play, degrading names, dom!jungkook + sub!reader

Originally posted by junghope

masterlist | ask | song | prev

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anonymous asked:

Tell us more about her

She is small, but extremely strong. She is like a mini hulk if you ask her to help moving heavy stuff around. Cockroaches are her kryptonite because she’s had bad experiences with them before. (She accidentally stepped on a big, fresh cockroach barefoot and she wailed as soon as I picked up the phone)

She has a thing for Corgis’ butt, she sneezes like a hamster and she sleeps like a koala bear. She loves her family more than she loves herself. She would do anything as long as it is for her family. She is not a fan of phone calls, but if she calls, you better pick up because it’s definitely an emergency, regardless how big or small the emergency is.

I think she is made of nothing but love, because she is so loving and soft, no matter what she does. She rarely gets angry, she often just laughs it off. But when she does get angry, she is pretty scary. (Definitely not as scary as I am.)

She tends to roll her eyes and groan as soon as I start to come up with lame jokes and puns (but she secretly loves it, she just doesn’t want to admit it). She finds it hard to say no when people ask her for favors even when she wants to say no (which is something I am quite worried about).

Did I mention that she is clumsy? I feel the need to tie fluffy pillows around her just so she will not get hurt from her clumsiness. She love massages a lot. It only takes a few minutes for her to fall asleep if you give her back massages, that’s how much she loves it.

I didn’t realize how long this is. I should stop here. To conclude it all, she has a really big heart for someone who is petite like her. And all you want to do is shelter her from all the bad in this world. That’s what I want to do.

I almost forgot to add this in: She loves her tea the way I love my coffee; black with a single cube of sugar. She once said that she never liked her own smile because it looks weird to her. But little does she know that she has the kindest and most contagious smile. She is forgetful when it comes to herself, but she remembers every little thing when it comes to those she hold dearly. She knows how bad I am when it comes to removing sharp bones from a fish, so whenever there’s a fish in our meal, she will remove all of the bones before giving it to me. I could go on and on if it’s her, you know.

that’s for me

request: none

warnings: language, violence, billy (?)

a/n: I love stranger things ohmygod 

You sat next to Steve as he and the four kids bickered back and forth about attempting to go back to the upside down. You sighed and ran a hand through your hair as you opened your mouth to finally speak- but you were cut off by a roaring engine in the driveway. The young red heads face filled with fear as she backed away from the table,                                                                        “That’s my brother. He can’t know I’m here. He’ll kill me, he’ll kill us.”

Your heart thudded at Max’s words as the usual tough girl seemed to be filled with fear. You turned as your boyfriend stood from the table and began to walk towards the door. You quickly stood up as you reached forwards and clasped his wrist. Steve took a deep breath before looking back at you. Your eyes were filled with confusion as you stood up,                                                           “Where are you going?”

He sighed as he narrowed his eyes at the kids,
“Stay in here and stay away from the windows.”

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Minutes - Overwatch Pre-Recall AU!

Reyes spread the map across the table and started assigning team roles.

“Jesse, you and Shimada are flanking through the left.”
McCree and Genji nodded in unity and left the room.

“Reinhardt and Morrison, you’re both leading the charge.”
Reinhardt hit his chest twice and put his hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“Affirmative.” and she left the room.

“The rest of you stay in the midlines and take all necessary precautions. Remember: this is a Blackwatch operation, people. Have no mercy! Alright, everyone get into position. MOVE!”

Reyes took one last look over the mission briefing. A minor omnic uprising. Should be easy to stop. Easy enough to maybe put a new recruit to the test…

“Hey, kid.”

Tracer looked up. “Who? Me?”

“Yeah. You’re with me. We’re in the frontline.” Reyes smiled.

“No way!” Tracer screamed with excitement.

“No way is right!” Morrison interrupted. “Reyes, she’s not ready!”

“How would you know, Jack? We haven’t tested her yet! For all we know she could be better than both of us!”

“Or she could have never fired a gun in her entire life! If there’s anyone who’s gonna be in the frontline, it’s me. Kid, you lead the charge with Reinhardt. Reyes and I will handle it. What do you say?”

“Um- Uh- Roger that, Commander Morrison!”

“Excellent. Dismissed.”

Reyes popped his shells in the last omnic resistance unit and threw his shotguns on the ground. His eyes wide with anger, his breathing fast and heavy. He started running to the backlines as fast as he could. He reached for his earpiece “Sector clear. That’s the last of them. Angela, how is he holding up?

I’m sorry Reyes, but there was nothing I could do…”

Angela crouched on the ground next to Morrison. His breathing had soothed and slowed down. He was no longer in pain.

Lena was one of the many who crowded around their fallen commander. “No!” She said in a low voice. “No no no no NO! This is all my fault! I shouldn’t have let him take my place!” I shouldn-”

Reinhardt inched closer towards Tracer. “ Kid, listen to me. Those were Commander Morrison’s orders. You couldn’t have ignored them even if it was up to you. What is done is done, you hear me?” Reinhardt’s voice softened as he fought to fight back his tears. “We can’t change the past.”

Tracer pushed Reinhardt’s hand away. “Or can we?“

“Lena? I know what you’re thinking, do no-”

“Too late!”

Tracer started running as fast she could. She could feel the adrenaline surging through her veins. She could feel her blood pump in her head. She could hear Winston tell her “It’s for emergencies only” This  was definitely an emergency. She ran and ran and ran and when the moment was right, the pulled a fist and slammed the chrono-accelerator on her chest. The rest of what she could remember was blurry.

“Or she could have never fired a gun in her entire life! If there’ anyone who’s gonna be in the frontline, it’s me. Kid, you lead the char-”

“With all due respect, sir. I think I’m more than ready to handle a test like this. I will not let you dowm. Both of you.”

Morrison was infuriated at Lena’s interruption, but one look at her expression calmed him down. She seemed confident and ready to prove herself. Up to whatever task she was assigned to. Exactly what Morrison wanted in his soldiers. He looked at Reyes and nodded. “She’s ready.”

Angela crouched on the ground next to Lena. Her breathing had soothed and slowed down. She fought the pain and with her remaining power spoke the word “Morrison”.

Jack pushed his way through the crowds and kneeled next to Tracer. “I’m here, kid. I’m here.” He held her hand.

Tracer look at Jack’s face and smiled one last time.

She was no longer in pain…

laurenclare88  asked:

Request please, Mulder comforting Scully when she's sick

So what was supposed to be a productive Sunday has so far been spent reading fic (oops!) and avoiding the real world. On the plus side, October is here and my @fictober commences!

Mulder was having a dream, the best of dreams. It was a hot summer’s day, he and Scully were in the office, discussing their latest case when suddenly the heat became too much for his partner. Without breaking off their conversation she began to unbutton her white-colored blouse to reveal the lacy black bra underneath. Well aware that Mulder’s gaze was now fixed firmly on her breasts, Scully rose from her chair then slowly unzipped her pencil skirt and removed it, giving her partner an impressive view of her ass. As Mulder loosened his tie, the temperature in the room hot in so many ways, Scully removed her panties, sat back down in her chair, spread her legs and then -

The slam of a door woke Mulder with a jolt, and he sat up in bed with a start, immediately regretting the action. It took him a few moments for the room to stop spinning and for him to realize exactly where he was. California. Hollywood to be precise. It had been the premiere of the Lazarus Bowl, and after walking out midway through the movie, Mulder and Scully had spent a night out on the town. And then some. They’d finally made it back to their motel in the early hours of the morning, barely making it inside the door before Mulder was thrusting into his partner, and then finally, when sated, they’d made it to the bathtub, camping out in there with a bottle of champagne that a drunken Mulder had charged to Skinner’s room. When their skin was wrinkled and the water cooled, they’d dried one another quickly, before falling into bed and passing out. But now only Mulder remained.

He looked around the room, realizing for the first time since they’d got back to the hotel that they were in fact in Scully’s room. Her dress sat rumpled on the carpet, her bra by the nightstand, and god knows where her panties were. They’d have to look for them later. Spotting a glass of water on the side, Mulder reached over to take a sip, in a bid to freshen his mouth and try and clear his head. He was too old for this, he thought to himself. He barely drank when he was at home, and his body wasn’t used to this much alcohol, the hangover already setting in, despite the fact he had a feeling he was still drunk.

As he set the glass back down, Mulder suddenly heard sounds coming from the bathroom. Taking a -deep breath, he carefully edged out of the bed, wobbling slightly as he stood. Yes, still a little drunk. Realizing Scully was in the bathroom he edged closer, his pace quickening when he recognized the sound of retching.


He knocked on the door and then entered the bathroom to find his partner, dressed in his shirt from the previous evening, slumped over the toilet as she reacquainted herself with the food and drink they’d consumed on the Bureau’s expense. What a waste, he thought, stifling the giggle that threatened to emerge. Definitely still drunk. Thankfully practical Mulder took over, and he padded over to Scully’s side. He fell to his knees beside her, immediately regretting the action. Sudden movement wasn’t good.

His partner said nothing of course, her body preoccupied with vomiting, and he noticed she’d managed to soil the arm of his shirt, and a little of the floor too. He’d worry about that later. Despite the fact he now felt pretty nauseous himself, Mulder focused on Scully, smoothing her hair back away from her face and then gently rubbing her back. “S’ok,” he said, the volume of his voice surprising them both. “You’re ok.”

Scully sat back briefly in order to flush the toilet. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she glared over at him. “You’re not sick?”

Resisting the urge to smile, Mulder busied himself by grabbing hold of the edge of the bathtub and getting to his feet, and then reaching for a washcloth on the side and wetting it. He returned to Scully’s side, gently (to him) wiping her face with it. “Nope.”

“It must have been the…” Scully paused, closing her eyes as another wave of nausea threatened to overcome her. “…the chicken.” She’d barely gotten the words out when she leaned back over the toilet and promptly threw up once more.

“The chicken?” Wrapping his arms around her, Mulder murmured soothingly into her ear. “It’s ok honey, it’s ok.”

“Mulder you’re hurting me.”

“Sorry.” He pulled away, slumping against the tub.

“The chicken, it must be…must be food poisoning.” She gestured to the washcloth and Mulder set about dampening it for her once again. “I knew that diner looked dodgy.”

“Scully we both had the chicken.”

She ignored him. “I didn’t think mine looked right. I should have said something but…oh god.” She turned and threw up yet again, her body unwilling to give her a break.

Mulder tried to be as sympathetic as possible, but the situation, coupled with the level of alcohol still in his system, was incredibly amusing to him. “It wasn’t the chicken,” he said with a grin, thankful that Scully’s attention was elsewhere. “I think it may have been the two bottles of champagne we had…” He tried to recall the previous evening. “And the vodka shots you insisted on.”

“No I…no I didn’t,” she replied through heaves.

“I think there may have been a beer involved somewhere too. And I have a receipt somewhere for a whisky and coke.”

“Oh god…”

“So…” He returned to her side and resumed rubbing her back. “Sweetheart, I think you’ll find it’s the alcohol, not the chicken.”

“Sweetheart?” Another glare. He grinned sheepishly. “Are you still drunk?”

“I think there’s a slight possibility I might be a little inebriated.”

“Why are you not sick?”

“You’re forgetting that not only did I outweigh you by several pounds, but I also stopped declined that second round of shots.”

“I hate you.” Her body finally spent, Scully relaxed into her partner’s arms.

“I know. But on the plus side I do recall some pretty amazing sex last night.”

Scully thought for a moment, then shook her head, closing her eyes immediately, regretting the movement. “We did?”

“You don’t remember?” He had to admit he was a little disappointed in that. “Tell you what, let’s do a repeat performance later tonight.”

“I’m never drinking again.”

“I’ve said something similar before and it never works like that, believe me.”

He stood once more, holding a hand out to her. “Are you done?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, but took hold of his hand anyway and let him pull her to her feet. She waited while Mulder grabbed a glass from the counter and filled it with water, before placing his other hand on the small of her back and guiding her back out to the bedroom. He helped her back into the bed, handing her the fresh glass of water to sip while he hurried back to the bathroom to clean up and turn out the light on his way out. “Ow!” he exclaimed as he bumped his shoulder against the doorframe, his spatial awareness impacted by the level of alcohol still in his system. Scully said nothing, either having not registered what happened or simply not bothering to respond.

When Mulder finally made it back to bed, Scully was tucked up beneath the comforter with her eyes closed, taking measured breaths. “You ok?”

“I hate you.”

“You’re the one who got vomit down my shirt.”

“This is all your fault.”

“You vomited on the bathroom floor too. It’s ok though, I love you and there’s no one else’s vomit I’d rather clean up.”

Despite herself, Scully laughed. “You’re drunk.”

“I prefer the term “well-oiled.””

“Get into bed Mulder.”

He did as she said, crawling in beside her and carefully wrapping an arm around her. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I just vomited up every vital organ.”

“Poor baby.”

“Shut up with the endearments. And stop showing off, just because you feel fine…”

“What can I say Scully, I can handle my drink.”

“Famous last words.”

“I’m never sick Scully, ever.” Of course, his head was pounding, but he wasn’t about to let on. “Go to sleep. If you think you’re going to be sick again wake me, ok?”

“Kay…” He waited for his partner to continue speaking, but when he looked down at her he noticed she’d already fallen asleep. No change there. Shifting in the bed, Mulder closed his eyes in a bid to fall back to sleep and continue his dream. Hopefully Scully was feeling better now, he thought to himself, and wouldn’t wake for a while.

As it turned out, he was the one who woke her, barely an hour later. It turned out that he couldn’t handle his alcohol either.

anonymous asked:


i switched this up just a little bit–

A man lets them into Kat’s apartment building on his way out, before they have to ring the buzzer.

They’re climbing the steps to the second floor together and she’s holding a bottle of cab when Jane asks, “So, romcom or drama tonight?

“Mm, I’m thinkin drama.”

“Really? Seemed like you were in more of a romcom mood.”

“Well, maybe. Wait, which romcom? ‘Cause if it’s the new Ryan Gosling one…”

Sutton adjusts the bottle of wine in her hand and reaches forward to knock at Kat’s door with the other.

“What’s that one called again?” Jane says, waiting in front of Kat’s door with her.

“I don’t remember, we’ll have to IMDB it.”

Sutton waits another second and then knocks again, louder.

“Kat, let us in, we’re ready to ready to stare at Ryan Gosling’s face for two hours.”

She’s about to knock for a third time or text her when the door swings open.

“Finally.” Sutton moves to enter her apartment. “Cute bralette by the way.”

Kat holds her arm out, standing there in sweatpants and an olive green bralette, and moves to block their path.

“Umm, whatcha doin here?” Kat asks, and Sutton notices that she looks flustered.

“It’s Thursday,” Jane reminds her.

“No, it’s n—Fuck, it’s totally Thursday,” Kat groans, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Sutton narrows her eyes, evaluating the situation when—


The voice comes from her bedroom and all of them turn their heads. Then Kat’s looking back at them, cringing and then pursing her lips.

Sutton gives her a shit-eating grin, knows she’s gonna be giving Kat a hard time about this for days, then shouts, “Hi, Adena!”

Jane is just shaking her head, laughing to herself, and Kat presses her palm to her forehead.

“You’re never gonna let me forget this, are you?” Kat mutters.

“Oh, definitely not.”

Adena emerges several seconds later in leggings and an oversized t-shirt of Kat’s that she obviously just grabbed, hair loosely covered with a thin mismatched scarf.

“Kat?” Adena asks again, confused this time, and walks up to stand beside her in the entryway.

“She forgot it was movie night,” Jane supplies helpfully.

“Had other plans in mind apparently,” Sutton grins, looks Adena up and down like they all know exactly who the plan was.

Adena takes it in stride, not at all embarrassed, and gives Kat a flirtatious look. “Interesting…”

Kat folds her arms across her bare abdomen, glaring at Sutton.

“Adena, how do you feel about Ryan Gosling?” Jane asks with a straight face and Kat blinks up at the ceiling, groaning to herself.

“He’s a talented actor.”

“Spoken like a true lesbian,” Sutton nods, and then turns to Kat. “We’re re-scheduling, aren’t we?”

Oh yeah.”

“Ok fine, but we’re drinking this cab without you tonight.” Jane nods in agreement. “Have fun, make good choices,” Sutton pats her shoulder.

Then Kat shuts the door in their faces and she can hear Adena’s muffled voice on the other side saying, “That was rude.”

They laugh and make their way back down the stairs together. They know that Kat is just in her honeymoon phase right now, heightened by the fact that she and Adena were separated for weeks while she waited for a new visa.

Soon enough Kat will resurface and she’ll figure out how to balance her friendships and her relationship. But in the meantime? In the meantime they’re gonna give her as much shit for it as possible.


Inspired by THAT scene from 6x18 “Where Blue Birds Fly” this is just a bit captain swan smuff. I actually originally had nearly the same idea that played out in that scene, but it happened before (and much better) I could write it. So I changed up my idea so as not to totally copy what they did on the show. Emma and Killian just want one, uninterrupted morning to themselves, but it seems that Mary Margaret has sixth sense about these things and has really the worst timing ever. And also a terrible definition of the word emergency. 

A big thanks to @wholockgal for her help with beta and editing, working out the details, and the title. She’s amazing and I love her and you all should too. 

Also read here on A03 or on

Rate M-just in case

Emma was seated at the kitchen table, one foot tucked under the opposite leg, a cup of coffee and a plate containing what was left of the strawberry pop-tarts she’d consumed for breakfast next to her while she flipped through the bridal magazine she’s picked up at the store yesterday. As she turned the pages, folding down the corner on anything that caught her eye, she absent mindedly twirled the diamond ring that now sat on the third finger of her left hand. It had recently been placed back on said finger, after Killian had returned being sent off to another realm by Gideon. And since the moment he’d proposed for the second time, they had made good use of every quiet moment alone to enjoy each other. (Sometimes several times in one night, and on nearly every surface of the house.)

 “Finding anything you like, love?” 

Emma looked up at the sound of her fiance’s voice. She’d been lost in her own thoughts and hadn’t heard him come down the stairs. 

“A few things,” she replied, giving him a smile. “But I don’t know if I can find anything like them in Storybrooke. I think my choices are going to be pretty limited.”

 Killian moved into the kitchen and stood behind her, hand and hook on her shoulders as leaned down, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke. “I’m sure, whatever you choose, you’ll be ravishing,” he said, his voice husky as he nipped her earlobe. 

Emma squirmed a little in her chair, and bit her bottom lip as memories of everything else he’d nipped last night came flooding back to her. They’d had quite the pleasurable evening when they returned home from dinner at her parents apartment, with Henry deciding to stay at Regina’s they’d had the house to themselves. Being separated by realms, and with the Final Battle looming in the not too distant future they weren’t wasting any of the quiet moment they had together and, well, Emma hadn’t been sure she was going to be able to walk down the stairs this morning. 

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Reverse Heroine | (II)

parts: ➳ 1 | 2 | 3 / ?

a supposedly only 2 part fic ft. fuckboy!jungkook x


summary: because platonic love is underrated

genre: college au, fluff/angst idk?

word count: 5.1k

a/n: I probably fluctuated too much with the comedy and angst on this but because i wrote on different days it just really goes by my mood. i also probably should stop thinking that I’m being really funny because i’m laughing at my own jokes like its so sad somebody halp me. 

shoutout to the cutest baby that i need to protect from Jungkook the rude hip thrusting brat: @mintmintyoongi you’re so cute and sweet omg my grandma heart is alive and well when i think of you

let me know what you guys think of the new chapter!

              After the interruption from the well-loved couple, the party resumed to its previous state. Smashed students downing on drinks and- wait, is that Kim Taehyung doing a keg stand right now? You shake your head in amusement; that boy never fails to go all out during parties. You’ve already walked around the frat house twice in search for Jungkook, seeing way too much going on for your liking, but the boy was still nowhere to be found. Popping a couple of beers yourself, your bladder was now urgently sending a signal – yep, it was definitely an emergency. You run to the closest bathroom, hand on the knob to find girl on the counter and your favourite fratboy standing between her legs, lips locked like they were about to devour each other.

               The caramel locks are recognizable at first sight, which are currently entangled in Jungkook’s hand like a wild animal. The sophomore has taken it too far this time, messing around with someone like her. With anger bubbling in your stomach, you pull on Jungkook’s t-shirt, separating the bodies apart. With some space between the two, you realize that the girl was indeed Park Sora – daughter of President Park of the director’s board. She looks embarrassed and flustered in being caught in action, immediately closing her legs together in hopes of saving her prim and proper image.

               “You’re coming with me, Jeon.” A hiss comes out of your mouth and Jungkook makes no attempt to resist, he was smart enough to know not to mess with you when you were fuming.

               Dragging the drunken body outside, you muster all your strength and throw Jungkook onto the ground. He groans in pain at the contact and your heartstrings tug for a second before returning to your iron expression once again.

               “It’s only grass, Jeon. You’ve been slammed countless of times like this in football, stop pretending like it actually hurts.” You roll your eyes as you wait for the boy to get up on his feet. The fresh and brisk air outside seems to have Jungkook sobered up a bit, who tries to push through you to get into the house again.

               “Leave me alone, loser.” He mutters, alcohol stenching his breath. “I have to get back to Sora.”

               You pull him back to stand in front of you, hands tugging on the collar of his shirt. “I’m saving your ass, you idiot! If President Park finds out about you messing with his precious little daughter, you can kiss your sports scholarship goodbye!”

               Your hands release Jungkook when he seems to finally realize the situation that he got himself in, no longer demanding to get back inside. He sucks in a breath of cold air as he kicks the grass on the lawn, obviously aware of the consequences of his actions but still pissed off that you called him out like that.

               “Kook, I thought you were better than this.” You groan, pulling your messy locks back from falling forwards. “You-you know that you shouldn’t mess with girls like that. She’s going to take everything for serious! And I can’t let you hurt her like that”

               Everything falls silent. Too tired to keep yelling at your friend, you watch as Jungkook stands before you – head looking down with his bangs covering his eyes. The climax of the party continues in the back of the house, muffled music filling up the dead space between you and Jungkook. The unsettling tension is making you crazy until he finally decides to speak again.

               “What if the one that’s hurt is me?” Jungkook looks at you for the first time since the two of you have been outside. His eyes are bloodshot and watery, and his pained expression makes your heart clench in sympathy.

               “What?” A soft sound escapes your lips, confused to what Jungkook was saying. “What are you even sayi-”                

               “I lied. I lied to you, Y/N.” Jungkook whispers. “That night, when you asked me if I ever loved someone before and I told you that I didn’t.” He continues when you pull his hand into yours as support, feeling relieved at the contact. “I was wrong.” Jungkook looks up into the night sky, in attempt to keep his gleaming tears from falling. But it was no use, it was just too easy to be himself – not the infamous bad boy that the campus knew him as – whenever you’re around.

              “That feeling you mentioned, I didn’t- I just didn’t know what you were talking about. Until today, when I saw Jimin’s hands around her.”

               Jungkook takes a deep breath and shudder, needing a moment to get over his rush of emotions that was overwhelming him. You take this time to bring him to the sidewalk curb, sitting down with him beside you.

               “I’m in love, Y/N. With my own fucking best friend.” A series of soft cries escape from Jungkook’s lips, leaning onto your shoulder as support. You didn’t realize that he was crying until you felt his tears staining your skin underneath the t-shirt. You should’ve noticed the signs. It was bound to happen – the way he looks at her, the way he smiles when she does, and the way he suffers when he saw Jimin with his beloved. You should have realized that Jeon Jungkook was in love with Lee Daeun.

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anonymous asked:

Why are people so concerned about style? I can't see a style in my art or even a relevance that ties them to a "one person drew all these" conclusion. I just don't get it but also I'm kinda disappointed in myself

Hi anon! I’ve gone through the same thing a lot with my own art as well, and while some people gain super distinctive styles, I myself have never been able to see one. HOWEVER! My friends around me have (crazy right?) they’re able to tell which one I drew based off, who knows what honestly, but they can recognize it. So while you may not be able to immediately recognize your piece, maybe others can!

As far as the general concern on style, I don’t feel like it’s necessarily a thought everyone has running through their head while looking through art, more of something that they begin to recognize over time as something to distinguish one artist from the others.

So all in all, I’d say don’t worry about it! Even if you don’t feel like you have one, others might disagree, and even then, once you start practicing enough one will definitely emerge. As my high school band director once told my class, “The only difference between you and a professional, is consistency.”

Regain Control - Jason Todd x Reader

Okay so before I accidentally kill all of you, here’s the happy ending (at least I think it’s happy. I’m not even sure if I know how to write happy anymore). Remember the first part of this is the same as Gun Control and No Control

Tagging: @speedypan @cait-writes-stuff @memento-scribet

Words: 1789

Moonlight streams through the boarded up windows of the abandoned warehouse you and Jason had been sent to investigate. It seemed that there was some suspicious energy emanating from the location, and even though nothing bad had come from it, the two of you had decided to check it out just in case. Besides. It’d been a slow week anyway.

Starting at the edge of the room, you investigate every inch of space for a source of the energy. There aren’t any false walls or trap doors. After cracking open a few crates, you decide there isn’t anything of concern. From the other side of the room you see that Jason has come to the same conclusion. You meet back up in the center to discuss your next course of action.

“I found nothing. How about you?” you put your hands on your hips and look up at Jason’s red helmet.

“I got nothing.” Jason puts his guns back in their holsters. “But something about this is bothering me. I just can’t place my finger on it.”

“Well, we can figure that out when we get back to the cave.” You rub your arms as if fighting off a chill, even though the air is warm. “Let’s go. This place is starting to give me the creeps.”

Jason nods in agreement. You both start walking toward the door. Just before you get to the door, Jason grabs your shoulder and pulls you back.

“Watch out!” He points to a trip line on the floor. You swear the wire wasn’t there when you checked the area earlier.

An echoing laughter bounces off the walls and meets your ears, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Klarion,” Jason mutters in your ear. It certainly explains the energy signatures reading from the area, but why is he here? You can feel Jason’s frustration as he scans the room for the Witch Boy. “What do you want, Klarion?”

“I just want to have a little fun. That’s all,” a bodiless voice speaks from what sounds like everywhere. A wisp of smoke draws your attention to a large stack of crates, and you focus on the form of Klarion and Teekl.

“Well we’re here to cut the fun times short.” Jason takes his guns out and prepares to fight.

“Awww, come on Red Hood. You used to be so fun, but now you’re just so boring.” Klarion floats above the crates and turns upside down as if he’s having a casual conversation with an old friend. “Never was able to predict how you’d react to a situation.”

“I’ve found my reason to fight.” Jason ever so slightly turns his head to you, and the knowledge that he’s referring to you stirs up the butterflies in your stomach.

“Hmmm,” Klarion spins right side up and narrows his eyes at you. “You want to fight? I’ll give you a reason to fight.” He cackles before he starts casting a spell. Jason raises his guns to shoot him before he can do anything, but Klarion is too fast. He sends a cloud of magic directly at you.

You try to move. Really you do. Every fiber of your body is screaming to get out of the way. But your limbs don’t listen. You watch helpless as the spell gets closer and closer.

But it never hits you.

At the last second Jason shoves you out of the way, absorbing the magic in your place. You stare with wide eyes as he hunches over and trembles, attempting to fight off whatever Klarion threw at you.

“Jay—Red Hood? Are you okay?” you place a hand on his arm and the tremors immediately stop. He stands straight without saying a word.

“Well isn’t this an interesting turn of events?” Klarion giggles.

You would have mouthed off at the Witch Boy were Jason not distracting you. His entire body language is mechanical, and he’s staring directly in front of him as he walks toward you. Ever so slowly, he raises his gun.

“Jason, no!” You yell and shove his hand to redirect his aim away from you. It might have worked better had his reflexes not been so quick. While you managed to knock the gun out of his hand, he took advantage of your momentary contact to grab your wrist.

“What is wrong with you?!” He doesn’t respond. You try to rip your hand away but his grip tightens.

“Say something!” You need to see his face. There’s no way you can fully figure out what’s wrong with him as long as this helmet is on his head. You rip the hood off knowing that he wears a mask underneath for emergency situations. And this definitely qualifies as an emergency situation.

But the sight under the hood makes your blood run cold.

He looks completely normal. Except for the fact that his face is completely blank. There’s no life. No charm. He normally has at least a ghost of a smile when he looks at you. But there’s nothing.

It’s like he’s turned into a mindless zombie.

You stumble backward in shock.

“What have you done to him?!” you ask Klarion, who is floating in the rafters and cackling.

“Oh, nothing much. I’ve just taken over his mind for a bit. That’s all.” By the tone in Klarion’s voice, it’s apparent that he is having the time of his life. “He’s going to kill you. The last thing you’re going to see before you die is the face of your partner. Your murderer.”

“You bastard!” You shoot at Klarion. You spend the next several minutes trying to think of how to stop Klarion and avoiding Jason’s blows. You don’t have any ranged weapons to hit Klarion with, and if you fight Jason you risk hurting him.

But you were never much of a long term fighter, and your energy is dropping with every blow you counter. Jason catches you in a slow moment and throws his elbow down on your shoulder, sending you to the floor with a yelp of pain. While down you manage to hit your emergency alert. You need backup, and you need it fast.

When you roll over to look at Jason’s painfully blank face, it’s down the barrel of a gun.

“Jay,” you whimper. You don’t even care that Klarion’s still here. The only way you have a chance of getting him back is by calling him by his name. “Jay, baby. Please. Please come back to me. I—I don’t care if you kill me, but do it as yourself.” Tears you didn’t know were there start welling up in your eyes.

“Remember me. Remember your family. Please let me see that beautiful smile one last time. Please, Jay. I love you.”

Jason doesn’t respond. He continues to stare blankly down at you. You expected him to have pulled the trigger by now. He should have if Klarion is controlling him.

That’s when you notice that the gun is trembling in Jason’s usually steady hand.

“NO NO NO!” Klarion whines. “KILL HER!”

Jason’s hand steadies.

You close your eyes to accept your fate.

When the gun goes of you don’t feel anything.

You hear an animalistic cry of pain, and you open your eyes to see that Jason has turned to face where Klarion and Teekl had been, his gun pointing at now empty space.

“This isn’t over Red Hood!” Klarion’s voice echoes off the walls, and as much as you should be concerned that Klarion now has a grudge to hold against the two of you, you can’t help but sigh in relief that he’s gone.

Sudden exhaustion washes over you, and you collapse onto the floor and start crying. Tears of relief that you’ve both survived this encounter. Tears of fear at the thought of what almost was.

“Y/N?! Are you okay?!” Jason is suddenly beside you. He’s taken off his other mask, and, even though his expression of concern hurts your heart, it’s the most relieving thing you’ve ever seen.

“Yes, Jay.” You sit up and take your mask off. In one swift motion you throw your arms around his shoulders and force your lips against his. He stiffens up at the initial shock, but eventually gives in and kisses you back. You rest your forehead against his and stare into his blue eyes. “In fact I don’t think I could be better.”

“I am so sorry, Y/N.” Jason wipes a tear from your cheek. “I should have broken free sooner.”

“You weren’t in control of yourself, Jason. But now you’re back, and we’re safe.” You break your stare and look at a crate, suddenly nervous at what you’re about to say. Something you’ve been meaning to tell him but just couldn’t find the words. “All three of us are safe.”

“All… three of us?” Jason looks at you in confusion, but you refuse to meet his gaze. “Y/N, you don’t mean…”

“Yes,” you nod before looking at him. “I’m pregnant, Jason. You’re going to be a father.”

“I can’t believe this,” Jason mutters with wide eyes. Fear rises in your stomach that he’s going to reject you. That he’ll be upset that you’re pregnant. “I mean, I’m going to be a father. But, Y/N, if I had pulled the trigger… if I hadn’t regained control…”

“That doesn’t matter now.” You place your hands on either side of his face so that he looks at you. “What matters is that you did regain control of yourself. Because you’re strong, Jason.”

“It wasn’t because of me. It was because of you. Because you fought for me. You brought me back, Y/N. And I’m so, so glad you did.” He pulls you into a tight embrace, and you relax into him.

“I still can’t believe it.” He mutters in your ear. “I’m going to be a father.”

“You’d better believe it, Jaybird.” You giggle, and he places a hand over your belly.

“I… I never thought about being a father. I never really had a good example.” He says with fear in his eyes. “What if I’m not good enough?”

“Jason Peter Todd. Don’t you dare think that you won’t be an amazing father. Because you will be.” You smile at him.

“If I am it will only be because you’re such an amazing woman. You brought me back into the light, Y/N. I can never repay you for that.”

“Your love is all the payment I need, Jason.”

“I small price considering I get your love in return.” Jason smiles, and you see calm slowly wash over his features once again.

“Now come on,” you stand up and pull Jason with you. “Let’s go get some froyo and talk about baby names.”

Hey would anyone be willing to help if I actually made this donation page for my brother??? He’s not feeling very confident about the whole idea of asking strangers for help.. and he’s scared our dad is going to be angry for reaching out himself (our dad is…. ugh…..). We’re still waiting on the MRI to get done in 2 hours but the doctors evaluated his leg and they’re saying he’s going to need complete ACL reconstruction surgery in 2 months. That gives us 2 months to raise money for AT LEAST the surgery and if we’re lucky physical therapy too. Our mom doesn’t work, we have no relatives to help us and my dad is going to struggle his ass off to be able to afford this whole thing.

I want to see my brother walk again and not have to worry about how we’re going to make it happen and a donation page would really help…

I guess I’m asking for one last confidence boost before I go and make the page and ask for help. So if anyone would take the time to say some nice words my brother and I would definitely appreciate it

Texting the Marauders in an Emergency:

James: Rushes to your side but doesn’t really know how to deal with the emergency. Will definitely call for backup.

Sirius: His response depends on how much he values your relationship. Spends some time considering how much he likes you before either replying or ignoring the text.

Remus: Texts back promptly. Tries to give decent advice but ends it with “idk tho it’s up to you”

Peter: Texts back 4 hours later like “You good?”

anonymous asked:

A lot of people seem to miss the point on otaku culture in V3 to a pretty severe degree. There's a reason why Shirogane is the ringleader people.

I feel as though a lot of people in the western part of the fandom might be sort of unfamiliar with how much the idea of being an “otaku” is intrinsically tied with very negative connotations in Japan. It’s easy in the west to treat it as a kind of funny term which basically just means really liking anime or Japanese media in general, but it goes much deeper than that.

There is quite a lot of societal pressure to succeed in the Japanese education system. The same applies anywhere, of course, moreso nowadays when millennials get looked down on no matter what they do or don’t do and the opportunities for successful jobs are slimmer than ever. But in Japan specifically, there is a high rate of depression and suicide attempts among high school students who cannot “keep up” or “fit in” with the pressure to succeed academically.

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The Buddha’s Bravery

by Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche

At the heart of the Buddhist path is the understanding of samsara. This is the endless cycle of suffering to which all beings are subject as long as they believe they possess a self that is real.

What can we do about this? To begin with, we can commit ourselves to the path of waking up from our view that the self is real and in need of constant protection. Making this commitment begins with hearing the teachings of the Buddha and the instructions for meditation. Having found the teachings and the practice to be valuable, we feel confidence in the path we’ve discovered and in our own ability to follow it.

Buddhists have a ceremony for officially entering the path of meditation. It’s called “taking refuge,” and it involves embracing the Buddha as an example, the Buddha’s teachings as a guide, and the community of other Buddhists as helpful, supporting companions on the path. And what are we taking refuge from in such a ceremony? From this endless cycle of frustration — of seeking pleasure and trying to avoid pain. We recognise that this approach, ironically, only brings more pain.

What does it mean to take a vow of this kind? It means we acknowledge and renounce with conviction the cycle of suffering. It means that we’re giving our allegiance to something worthwhile, something that we’ve found to be true and wholesome and good. We have decided to take this path because we recognise that it leads to a place where we can flourish. Making this declaration enables us to begin to break our negative patterns and to develop the helpful qualities that we all possess inherently.

This intention is called ngejung in Tibetan, which translates as “definitely arising,” or “definitely emerging.” We are definitely emerging from samsara. This is a brave act. Taking this step is often referred to as entering the path of the warrior. We don’t mean warrior in the fighting sense, but in the sense that the warrior is heroic and courageous. The warrior-meditator’s job involves clarifying and subduing one’s own misunderstandings. It means overcoming fear.

We generally think of a warrior in battle as needing to overcome the fear of death. Comparing the warrior in battle to the warrior-meditator is not that far off. After all, whether we go to battle or not, we are all going to die. A warrior who succumbs to fear of death is unable to move forward into the next moment. The warrior gets stuck. We get stuck in samsara because of our fear of death. To have the definite intention to emerge from samsara is an act of warriorship, a way of dealing with our fear of death.

The Buddha, our first object of refuge, was an example for this kind of warriorship. He travelled on the path of awakening and overcame all sorts of difficulties. He demonstrated that fixation on the self can be overcome. He was brave enough to take a stance against materialism and his own attachment to pleasure. If we emulate him, we are emulating a being whose mind and actions were in accord with reality, who was not simply following the endless cycle of samsara.

We call the Buddha’s voice the dharma, our second object of refuge. He expressed his mind to others by showing them a practical way to achieve selflessness and to understand emptiness. He gave us instructions for realising the profound meaning of every possible situation.

The community of people who study and practice the Buddha’s teachings, the sangha, is our third object of refuge. As a group, the sangha keeps alive the instructions from the Buddha. Fortunately, because of the sangha, we don’t have to be alone on our spiritual journey. None of us is perfect, but because we agree on the truth of the Buddha’s teachings, we share a view of one another — and of all beings — as having basic goodness. In fact, we can see all beings as buddhas.

It’s helpful to contemplate the meaning of these objects of refuge. We can’t fully understand them from reading books. We need to try out the instructions for ourselves and work with our own mind to understand their deeper meaning. In this way, we take a simple, intelligent approach to the path. We think it over again and again. If it consistently makes sense (or makes progressively more sense, as is the case for a lot of us), we build up our conviction and our personal discipline by holding to principles we know are sound. And if we lose our conviction or forget why we have taken refuge, there are reminders such as impermanence, aging, sickness and death all around us.

Taking refuge ultimately asks us to overcome fear — including our fear of death — by closely examining it. Dying is terrifying because the consciousness loses the support of the body. There’s an unparallelled sense of loss and disorientation. But if we examine further, we must ask, Who is it that experiences this disorientation? Which part is “me”? Who dies? The mind consciousness is said to consist of thoughts, memories and dreams. Does that collection make up “me”? And if we cannot find a “me,” what is there to protect or be fearful for?

strejdaking  asked:

I remember hearing Light is more of a normal teenager in manga, with anime over-emphasizing the whole GOD OF THE NEW WORLD thing, and live action movies (those from Japan) underplaying it.

Yeah. I have the clearest memory of the manga. That was how I was primarily into it. 

His God Complex is definitely….slower to emerge in the manga than the anime. I always felt like the manga spent more time trying to make his actions feel really reasonable in the beginning, and his corruption a little slower. Which makes just how far he falls feel more….tragic, maybe? Like, Light is really supposed to be “normal, ideal kiddo” at first who is given too much power that brings out only his worst qualities. 

Chapter 50: Sometimes I Can’t See Myself

Rating: T
Fandom: The 100
Pairing: Bellamy x Clarke
Chapter: 50/68
Word Count: 2636 Words

Chapter Summary: The one where Clarke makes an unpleasant discovery.

A/N: Okay, damn, this was literally the hardest chapter to write. I’m still not 100% happy with it, but I cut it in half so I could at least get an update in. No cliffhanger, I swear. Anyway, I can’t wait to be done with the next chapter. It shouldn’t take me as long to get the next update out, at least. And then this disastrous portion will be behind us. Sorry for the lack of Bellamy here. He’s all over the next one, I promise.

Also on AO3;  Start from the beginning on AO3

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