don't try to look for a deeper meaning in this set

Me regarding love in LWA

So.. anyone remember this? My very succinct review of Episode 10.

Because it is time to talk a bit about this character, Andrew Hanbridge. First things first:

I don’t dislike Andrew

I think he’s a decent character and have gotten better characterization after his first two appearances, but that he was implemented in a bad way and got put in a show where he wasn’t truly needed.

Because that is the thing, Andrew was introduced in the LWA series rather than in the OVAs.

A big appeal of Little Witch Academia’s OVAs for many people (myself included) was the fact that it had an all-girls cast. It is exceedingly rare for an anime to have an all-girls cast and to not be revolving around blatant ‘girly’ themes. Little Witch Academia is not inherently girly, it is just a bunch of teenage girls learning to become witches. By cutting away the boys, the series removed the need to include common teenage girl depiction tropes such as excessive focus on romance, boys, looks etc. Instead the series allows the different girls’ character traits and interests come to the fore.

However, with the introduction of Andrew in the series, Trigger regressed to rely on some of these clichés. In the first episode Andrew appears, all the students go gaga for this stoic, aloof guy solely because he is famous and rumoured to be handsome. So basically all the witch students of Luna Nova (except Lotte, Sucy and Diana) are shown to be gossipy, superficial teenage girls. This portrayal betrays the series earlier depiction of varied and multifaceted girl characters. If a pretty boy is around, then they get reduced to this one-dimensional clichéd stereotype. So the way Andrew was implemented into the series detracts from one of the strong points of the series.

What is Andrew’s role in the series? Reportedly, Trigger wanted him to be Akko’s connection to the ‘muggle’ world, so to speak. But personally, very seldom does he feel like he actually fulfils that purpose.

Instead, it feels like he mostly just behaves like a male ‘Diana’ and made to appear in scenarios where Diana couldn’t perform the same function. Both come from aristocratic families, both are well-spoken and rational-minded, both use careful rational rhetoric to solve problems and both of their character growths’ is because of them continually being amazed and inspired by Akko.

But why? Why would you keep around two characters that are so similar in personality and in character development (at least on paper)?

This is why Andrew being teased as a romantic interest to Akko feels like such a slap in the face to everyone who loved Akko and Diana’s chemistry already back in the OVAs. It makes it seem that Andrew wasn’t introduced despite Diana already existing, but because of it. Like Trigger wanted to cash in on Diana and Akko’s chemistry but turn it into something more ‘acceptable’ for the general audience.

But this is where Trigger confuses the hell out of me. If Andrew is the endgame romantic interest, why isn’t it more clearly established at this point? Why has there been so relatively little time for developing Akko and Andrew together then? Why did Trigger go full speed ahead to develope and show how much Akko and Diana deeply care for eachother rather than with Akko and Andrew instead? Why is there so much focus on and interaction between Akko and Diana in the openings, while Andrew is barely there and doesn’t appear together with Akko?

And to quote from this:

There is only one character holding hands with Akko in the OP. And that character isn’t Andrew.

Because there is one thing that makes me mad, and that is ‘Dianakko’ detractors that refuse to acknowledge Akko and Diana’s deeper connection.

Because the way Akko and Diana have grown so close, despite their differences and initial misunderstandings, shows that there is an unspoken deeper bond between them. Even when they looked down on eachother, they still both show admiration and care for eachother, with neither of them knowing why. There was something that slowly over time drew them closer.

So I must say, as a lesbian, the level of affection displayed by Diana and Akko is to me beyond than ‘just being friends’.

If anyone would carelessly throw themselves into danger to save me like Diana and Akko do for eachother;

if anyone would scream with a desperate worry for me like Diana and Akko do for eachother;

if anyone would keep looking at me with a look full of care and concern like how Akko and Diana look at eachother;

if anyone would tell me to keep trying and chase my dreams, while grabbing my hands and being moved to tears, like how Akko did to Diana;

if anyone would tell me “You continue to astonish me in unexpected ways” while them thinking about every time I’ve amazed and impressed them like Diana did to Akko;

if anyone invited me on a broom like this

or if anyone looked at me like this before replying to my invititation;

if anyone would do such things like these, I would consider them loving me.

However, some people will never accept two girl characters loving each other unless they are being intimately physically affectionate, like kissing eachother. Until they are, it can be handwaved away and be explained that they are just “Gal Pals”, “very good friends” and so on.

If we switched out Diana above for Andrew, so that Akko and Andrew had shared all those interactions, you would definitely see people claiming that they are in love based on those.

This is a double standard that is sadly very real in real life too. Girl-loving girls have to go great lengths for their love to be considered “real” in the eyes of some.

Something that made me feel like I had giant pit in my stomach around the time Episode 10 was released, was how some ‘Ankko’ posts included gifs like these:

What the actual fuck? These moments were somehow considered “sweet Ankko moments” by some fans. One shows Akko being hurt by Andrew, while the other show how Akko very uncomfortably gets forcibly pushed to the wall by a love-drugged Andrew.

Both of these moments made me feel highly uncomfortable and feel genuine distress for Akko in these situations when I watched them. Neither of these abusive moments should be considered sweet or romantic. It is not a good representation of ‘Ankko’ or even Andrew himself alone. And I feel I can’t take any criticism of Dianakko in any serious regard from anyone who did feel these moments were “romantic”.

For me, ‘Dianakko’ is not a case of fanservice, it is a matter of representation.

Either on purpose or by accident, Trigger has managed to write one of the most heartfelt and organic depictions in animation of two girls managing to put aside their vast differences and come to closely understand eachother through what at least I would describe as love. I don’t even ‘need’ A Big Damn Kiss or a dramatic declaration of love. I’d rather want an ending more like the ending of The Legend of Korra, with Akko and Diana leaving together on a broom, to work on a shared future and a shared dream, with room for them growing further closer together and figure out what it means for them. Depictions of girls deeply caring for each other and slowly falling in love are rare outside shows not specifically focusing on girls’ love, thus I feel Diana and Akko are important.

I hope that Trigger soon either finally cements a final pairing and gently lets one part down, or that there will be no confirmed endgame romance. Trigger’s vagueness is just tiring at this point.

So I’m sorry Trigger and Andrew, but I’ve actually had enough of this dude.

anonymous asked:

Would you mind doing Reaper, McCree, and the brothers Shimada asking their crush out but they just look sad and say something like "you don't have to pretend to like me" or "don't pretend I'm worth anything" before turning to walk away. (It's up to you if they let the crush walk away or not)Feel free to ignore this.

Ohh Darling that’s so sad! D: Let’s give this a more happy tone <3


McCree

“So, what do you say?”, Jesse asked and gave you a demanding look - he was really nervous!
But not as nervous as you! You fumbled at the seams of your shirt and looked down at your feet. 
“No… Thank you.”, you muttered and took a deep breath. “You don’t have to pretend to like me, you know.” Oh great, here are the tears! Right on time!
“Pretending - what now?”, his look became puzzled but then he gave you a wide smile. “That’s bullshit! I like you a lot! Man, I thought that was pretty obvious!”
“So- You really wanna go out with me?”, you digged deeper and he nodded. 
“Of course!”

Genji

Genji peeked around the corner, watching you from afar. You had rejected him two times already but he couldn’t help himself. Something was wrong. He saw your unsettled side glance when he asked you out and that bothered him. A lot.
So he bought some flowers - with a small hint from Angela what flowers you might like. Now he was hiding behind the corner, trying to calm his heartbeat. He was so nervous!
“Oh. Hi Genji.”, you said as he finally talked to you a few minutes later. “Flowers, huh?”
“I know you rejected me yesterday. And that day last week.” His voice was not as confident as usual. “But please go out with me!”
Your eses widened a bit and fear prevented you from answering. But you plucked up all your courage and nodded. You were glad he asked a third time, actually He didn’t know you rejected him because you were afraid he wouldn’t like you. Maybe… Maybe he really liked you!
“Um- Okay!”

Hanzo

Hanzo sighed but he didn’t move at all. Your eyes set on the ground you shook with discomfort.
“Please don’t be mad.”, you muttered weakly. “It’s not that I don’t like you… It’s just that I don’t think I’m the one you should ask for a date.”
“Why is that?”, Hanzo asked. 
“I mean… Just look at me.”, you whispered and teared up. “I’m not good enough for you.”
He went silent for a few seconds, then he shook his head and gave you an encouraging smile. 
“I think you’re just perfect the way you are. I don’t want any other person to go out with me.”, he stated and winked at you. “I’ll be picking you up at 7 pm.”

Reaper

“Oh come on - don’t be so melodramatic!”, Reaper snarled and crossed his arms. “I asked you to go and grab a coffee with me, not to marry me!”
The blush on your face reached your ears and you started mumbling incomprehensible things. He sighed, shook his head and grabbed you by the shoulders. 
“Just say yes.”
“But, Gabriel-”, you insisted. “I just don’t get why you would chose me-”
“Ahh! Shush!”, he stopped your sentence and gave you an annoyed look. “Let’s go.”
“Uh, I- Okay… I guess…”, you whimpered and let him drag you to the coffee shop.

TITLE: I Think I Loaf You 
PAIRING: Connor Murphy/Evan Hansen (with some side Alana Beck/Zoe Murphy)
WORD COUNT: 2527
SUMMARY: Connor tags along to his sister’s wedding cake tasting and happens upon the most awkward, adorable baker in existence.
NOTES: I just really love The Great British Baking Show, and this is what happened. Also, a pretty soft Connor/a little ooc, but he’s also gone through some positive change, so yay? Sorry about the title. You can also read this on Ao3 here.


Connor wasn’t at all sure how he got roped into this shit, but there he was, being dragged along by his sister for a wedding cake tasting. He knew that if this was six years ago she could have held a gun to his head and he still wouldn’t have agreed to come along, but, well, they’d come a long way. Such a long way that he was apparently willing to suffer through all this pre-wedding decision making, and that she actually asked him to in the first place.

Whatever. At least he’d get to eat.

Keep reading

Don't Mess With Pan's Lost Girl P. 6

Warning: SMUT (like omg rated R), violence, cursing

Word count: 2399

A/N: IM BACK BITCHES. Thought I’d write a long smutty one to make up for my absence. Just one crappy day of school and I’ll be back to posting frequently. But yeah that’s all I have to say. So with out further ado… Part 6. Enjoy.

Part 5: https://pan-imagines-ig.tumblr.com/post/158385062324/dont-mess-with-pans-lost-girl-p-5

—-

When we get back to the camp everyone is quite and don’t make eye contact with me or Peter. I assume it’s because Felix had warned the rest of the boys that Peter was ready to unleash his wrath on anyone who does as much as glance in my direction. I look around for Felix and find him sitting at one of the tables, alone, he risks a glance my way and I give him a sympathetic look before Peter continues to drag me to his tree house.
We reach the tree that occupies the house and Peter snaps his fingers making us flash to the middle of his room in a heartbeat. He says nothing as he undresses till he’s fully naked. At first I try to keep my eyes off of him, worried he’s trying to get sexual. But I calm down when he walks to the opposite side of the room to a large oak wardrobe, I watch his back muscles as he digs through looking for new clothes, and allow my eyes to glide down his body. I can tell he’s tense and my first instinct is to rub his back to sooth him but I fight the urge. He turns towards me when he’s found bottoms and smirks when he catches my stare. He walks around the bed towards me, stops half way, puts on the pants, and walks towards me again, until we’re mere centimeters apart. If it weren’t for the height difference our lips would be touching, instead my nose hits his lips as I turn to face the floor.
“You know having second in command isn’t nearly as great as having the one in charge” He says, I can hear the smirk in his voice.
I roll my eyes but keep my head facing the floor, “This again, really?” I ask frustrated with his persistent nagging. He puts a finger under my chin and forces me to look him in the eyes, no matter how bad I want to resist the second my eyes find his I’m hypnotized.
“I’m just saying, I could make yo-”
“Feel so much better. Yes I know we’ve been through this already.” I interrupt. He doesn’t say anything, instead he just caresses my cheek as his eyes trail every inch of my face landing on my lips. I try to keep a emotionless expression as he continues to stare, but his hand moves from my cheek down my neck and over my shoulder. His hand continues to move down as he slowly leans in, his hand finally landing on the small of my back I hold my breath until his lips are on mine. Every ounce of my being is telling me not to react, to not fall in his trap, but my lips move in sync with his and his hand is pushing against the small of my back, bringing me as close to him as physically possible. The kiss starts out slow and intimate but soon my fingers tangle themselves into his hair and so it becomes more rushed and heated. It’s as if we both need each other this very moment or we’ll explode of lust.
He backs me up and my heels hit the bed and we’re falling back on his bed, his lips trail from my lips to my neck sucking harshly and his hands move to take off the bottoms he had just put on, and again he’s fully naked while I’m fully clothed. My body wants him but my mind is screaming to stop. I almost do stop everything but then his hand runs under my shirt and it feels so good and warm over my skin, and suddenly I’m one hundred percent okay with whatever is going to happen next.
He continues to kiss my neck as he pulls my shirt over my head and my pants down my legs, along with my underwear. Once the clothes are discarded his lips move from my neck down my chest, stomach, and stop and my hip bone. He kisses slowly and my fingers in his hair tighten as I let out a low moan. He gently removes my hands from his hair and moves lower and I feel his warm breath fan over me making my fingers clench around the bed sheets. He kisses the inside of my thigh and my hips buck upward, my body craving contact. He does nothing but continues to tease kissing all around where I need him most, but avoiding it completely. Then he stops, leaving me frustrated and panting.
“What the hell!” I say panting, and he smirks down at me.
“You gatta beg for it love.” He says crossing his arms over his chest.
“I’m not going to beg” I growl.
“Then. I’m, not going to give you what you’re craving oh so very badly” he says getting off the bed and reaching for his pants once again.
“No!” I yell, panting still. “Peter. Please.” I say with attitude.
“Please what, princess?” He says dropping the pants and crawling back on the bed.
“Please I want you to… please me.” I say with a roll of my eyes.
“Please you how, you have to be more specific, but please keep up the attitude,” he says while crawling over me so his mouth is right by my ear and I feel his dick press against my stomach, “it’s turning me on” he whispers. I moan and, once again, buck my hips up.
“Please.” I whisper back then pull his hair so his eyes meet mine. “Fuck me.” I saw in a low voice.
Immediately his lips crash onto mine and he sticks himself in without warning causing me to let out a wired loud gasp moan noise. With his elbows holding himself up on either side of my head, and his lips leaving sloppy kisses all over my neck, he grinds his hips faster and faster. With every thrust he gets deeper and deeper. All the while my nails are dragging up and down his toned back with my legs hooked tightly around his waist. Moans fill the room and soon he finds the right spot that causes me to scream curses and moan his name. He slurs dirt things in my ear all while we reach our high I let go first, he quickly pulls out and spills warm sticky cum over my stomach. He kisses me down from my high wrapping his arms around my back and flips us so I’m on top of him.
“I’m not done yet.” He say pulling my legs on either side of his head. Again, I’m panting and then I feel his warm tongue lick over me causing me to lurch forward, my hands holding tightly to the head board holding me steady. As he eats me out I moan his name egging him on and making him add a finger, then two. With both his tongue working and his fingers pumping I reach my second high. He grabs hold of my hip pushing me down to lay on top of him as I catch my breath. Weak and tired I don’t move as he kisses my forehead and brushes his fingers through my hair. And right before I fall asleep I hear him say, “I’ll make you feel this good every night, all you have to do is say you’ll be my Lost Girl.”

The next morning I wake in the bed alone but a idiotic grin on my face. Pan walks into the room then with a plate of food, and an apple in his mouth. He sets the plate on the bed side table and sits on the bed next to me, taking a bite of the apple.
“How do you feel?” He says with a small smile.
“Amazing.” I say still smiling, but then I feel my face fall as I begin to feel the guilt.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, his face falling too.
“I’m a horrible person.” I say sitting up and covering my face.
“How?” He asks, genuinely sounding concerned.
“I was with two guys yesterday.” I say disgusted with myself.
“Do you regret last night?” He asks, sad.
“No, no, no. I just… I’m a slut.” I say ashamed.
“You’re not a slut.” He says now mad, this boy is so bipolar. “Get up and dressed.” He says getting up leaving the plate of food. I do as he says and meet him at the bottom of the tree. He takes my hand and we walk to the camp. He sits me down at one of the tables then walks away without saying anything. Confused I stay sat and don’t follow him, worried I upset him. Then I see Felix walking towards me, about a yard away he stops and scans the camp, for Pan, then continues to walk and sits facing me.
“Wanna meet up again today?” He says, he sounds like an exciting little kid.
“Do you have a death wish?” I ask and it comes out a bit more rude than I mean it to, but he doesn’t seem affected by it.
“Come on Pan won’t do anything” he says with a smirk.
“I don’t think we shou-” I begin but suddenly Felix is pulled from his seat and thrown to the floor. In a flash Pan is on top of him beating him.
“Peter! Stop!” I shout as I try to pull him off and a few lost boys help me. When he’s finally off Felix his knuckles are bloody and Felix is groaning on the ground. Pan is panting he roughly grabs me and pulls me in for a rough kiss. When he pulls away he looks down at Felix, and smirks.
“Lets get something straight lost boys” Pan announces, “No one is to touch Mariana without having this,” he says gesturing towards Felix, “as a consequence.” He says then bends over to help Felix up.
“Go clean yourself up.” He orders him and Felix walks away with his head down, and the other boys clear out as well. Then Pan turns to me, “I thought I told you no conversing with the other lost boys?” He say slightly frustrated.
“Pan.” I say and he lets out a low growl so I huff, “Peter. You can’t expect me to live here with you pretending everything is perfectly fine if you’re going to beat up anyone that so much as looks in my direction.” I say annoyed with his behavior.
“Well they have no reason to be looking at you.” He’s acting like a child.
“Peter, you said it yourself you’ve been stuck on this island for an eternity without any girls. It’s not just you it’s all of the boys. You can’t honestly expect them to all to stay away from me. Not to be conceded but boys tend to all be drawn to a girl, and I just so happen to be the only one here.” I say and he’s not even meeting my eyes anymore and he remains quiet for a moment.
“I just don’t want the only good thing to be taken from me.” He says after finally meeting my gaze then walks into the woods. I sit at the table and run the words he just said through my head over and over.
Only good thing, what? No. I can’t possibly be the “only good thing” in Pan’s life he hated me like two days ago. This boy is so confusing and bipolar and, a psychopath really, but I can’t help but feel drawn towards him. He’s broken, I can tell, he tries to hide it behind all the tough leader crap.
With a huff I stand from the table and walk over to where Felix is sitting holding a went cloth to his face.
“I’m sorry Felix, for I don’t know; leading you on, rejecting you, getting you beat up.” I say sympathetically and he sighs.
“It was a bad idea to get between Pan and a girl. Don’t worry about it I’ll be fine. I was last time.”
Last time?
“I’m sorry.” I say one last time and run into the woods to find Pan. I run until I come to the lake that Felix took me to yesterday, and find Peter leaning against a tree.
“Pan?” I ask in a calm voice hoping to keep him level headed.
“What have I told you about that? It’s Peter.” He says as I walk to stand next to him. I look at his face and see it blank and emotionless.
“When was there a girl here before?” I ask.
“Where did you hear that?” He asks irritated.
“Felix said something about you two fitting over a girl before.” I say and he breathes through his nose.
“It was years ago I don’t know how many, time stands still here. And well I brought her here, she and Felix began a thing, I got jealous, she wanted to leave.” He says through clenched teeth, “I don’t want you to leave me.” He says, hurt.
“I’m not going anywhere seeing as I need permission to leave.” I say and he turns towards me and gives me a half smile. “But honestly why are you so attached all of a sudden? We were at each other’s throats only a few days ago.” I say making him bite his bottom lip.
“I guess I just forgot how great it is to have someone sleep with you. Well not like that… that came out wrong, I-I just meant that…” he stutters over his words making me laugh a little. “What I meant was,” he begins again, “sleeping alone in a pitch black room causes bad dreams.” He says, embarrassed.
“Are you scared of the dark?” I mock.
“No it’s not that it’s more, a-a PTSD kind of thing.” He says facing me completely now his back against the tree, “I feel the loneliness from when I was younger every night. But when there’s someone there with me, I’m not alone.” He says with a small smile.
My heart breaks a little for him and I take a step closer to him then, another and another, until my hands are pressed against his chest and my lips softly brush against his. His eyelids flutter closed and soon he’s pressing his lips gently to mine.

archiveofourown.org
Sense - Ellessey - Haikyuu!! [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

For KuroDai Week 2017, Day 8: Mythical Creatures/Super Powers

Summary: Daichi has never met another person like him before, someone he doesn’t have to hide his abilities from. But the first day at a new school, surrounded by the same normal faces, he finally meets someone different.


This will be Daichi’s seventh time as the new kid, so it’s not like it’s something he doesn’t know how to do. It’s all just a matter of blending in, finding the patterns and fitting himself inside them, and that’s something he has years of experience with.

It gets tiring though, following this routine. Leaving when he slips up, because somehow he always does, and starting out again in a different place, with a new set of people who are all the same. The same as the ones at his last school, the same as each other. All of them cut from the same cloth, except for him.

Daichi is different. Daichi can crack the earth with his anger, he can shape the soil without lifting a hand. When he laughs, if he isn’t focusing hard enough on his control, pebbles will rise up and dance with his voice.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

You remember how mick says he and len don't have heart to hearts? Well do you think they did when they younger and as they got older it changed? Under what circumstances do you think they would have a heart to heart?

So I know this isn’t what you’re aiming for…. but this is where I had to take it. #sorrynotsorry

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Kinda urgent (tho it may not sound it) I'm trans and I watched some videos saying bein trans is a sin. This disturbed me deeply. I'm afraid what if God wants me to stop my transition, or else I won't be able to be with him. If thats what Jesus meant by picking up my cross? I don't want to stop transition at all but I don't want to go against Him either. I'm scared and confused. I don't want to think my gender identity is a temptation from Satan since it's so deeply who I am. (1/2)

(2/2) I feel so distraught and like my world is coming apart. I feel distant from God and fearful of Him rather than knowing His love. I’m scared and I don’t know what to do or how to reconcile my gender identity with Him. It’s making me question my faith, when all I want is to be close to God. I know this may not sound urgent but it’s destroying me inside and I don’t know why. Do you have any thoughts on this whole thing? I’m sorry if this is a bother or not seemingly urgent.


Hi there, anon. I’m sorry those videos shook you so much – I’ve been there. It’s sucks, but it’s okay. You’re okay.

First off, I promise that God loves you so, so deeply. And God made you how you are. Jesus came that we might have fullness of life, not to make us live in fear or so that we might continue to live under the chains of social norms. Because the gender binary is a social norm – and we are called not to conform to the world but to be transformed in Christ.

God does not set ultimatums that force us to chop off pieces of ourselves, or squeeze ourselves into boxes that don’t fit, in order to live with God. This post has a quote from a womanist theologian on how God calls us to wholeness, and what that means for LGBT+ Christians in particular. And here is a post with a string of tweets that show how God loves us as we are – rather than saying, “In order to love you, I must make you into something else,” God says, “I receive you as you are – and I come to help you become your fullest, truest self.”

With all of the above information – that God comes to affirm our fullest selves – we do need to take the concept of carrying the cross into account as well. Luckily, Austen Hartke’s Transgender and Christian series has a video on how being trans is not “Our Cross to Bear.” (If you have trouble hearing videos, let me know and I’ll write out a synopsis of the video for you tomorrow!)

His videos “Self Denial or Abundant Life?” and “Abundant Life AND Self Denial?” are also ones that would help you understand how God calls us to abundance that includes transitioning. (Again, let me know if you need a textual summary of the vids.)

Jesus assures us that we can know sin by its fruit, and we can know goodness by its fruit. So let’s look at the fruits of trying to live as cis when we aren’t, versus the fruits of embracing being trans.

Common fruits of living as cis when we aren’t: depression and anxiety from dysphoria; feelings of isolation from other humans and from yourself; feelings of anger, often against God, and thus a lack of strong relationship with God

Common fruits of embracing being trans: gender euphoria!; renewed energy and feelings of joy and thanksgiving that we can use to serve and connect with others as well as to praise God; deeper understandings of ourselves and new experiences that may shape who we are and give us wisdom; a connection to a marginalized community that helps us develop empathy we can use to serve others.

(Some Austen Hartke vids related to these ideas of good fruit: x, x). 

Embracing being trans bears good fruit, while trying to repress it (as well as transphobia) tends to bear harmful fruit. For more on the idea of good fruit, see this tag. Satan is not “making” you trans, because if that were the case, it would not bear good fruit.

God delights in diversity, anon. We are all made so uniquely, with different gifts to offer. I believe being trans is a part of that – we have a unique perspective to offer others – a unique view on our bodies, our minds and spirits, on the gender binary and harmfulness of gender roles, and more. 

Another video to help calm your worries about physically transitioning, this video by Austen is helpful too. 

Here’s a prayer on transitioning that also might help.

For more resources, including responses to common arguments against trans/LGBT people using Scripture, see the “But what does the Bible say?” and the trans section of our resources page

I’m going to post now so you’ll have this; I might add to it tomorrow so keep a lookout for updates. Take a look at the links, and take a moment for some self care. Then, if you have more questions, you are welcome to ask them here! We are here for you anon; you are not alone. <3

anonymous asked:

Ah okay, Jeremy x fem!reader (smut if you don't mind) where the reader is chubby and is having self esteem issues and Jeremy figures out how to help possibly? I've just been insecure lately but I love j doolz so 👉🏻😎👉🏻 if you're cool writing this

A/N - Here you go, sweetheart - and don’t worry, I’m always cool with writing JDoolz :P I’m pretty sure everyone on the damn planet has to deal with body image issues sometimes, which blows, but I hope this little fic makes you smile at the very least!

Pairing - Jeremy x Reader

Warnings - Swearing, sex

Word Count - 1, 778

Keep reading

aph-awesomeprussia  asked:

What are the stages of drafts? I'm trying to write my own book but I dont know how to draft properly and I feel like I'm gonna be stuck in a gutter if I don't know

Yesssssssssssssss someone finally asked it!!!

I’ve been waiting for the perfect opportunity to explain this and show everybody my inverted pyramid :D :D :D

I present, The Inverted Pyramid of Revising a Book

Now I’ll explain each section of the inverted pyramid:

THE FIRST DRAFT

  • This should be self-explanatory. You write the first draft. For novels, 75-150,000+ words of the world inside your head.

PLOT, CONTENT, SCENES, AND MAJOR CHARACTERS

  • Go back and fix it all up. Did you tell the story you wanted to tell? Did you include scenes and events that add up to the conclusion you present?
  • Are there any unnecessary scenes you could delete, or scenes that are redundant to other scenes? Get rid of them. If this means entire chapters have to go, wave bye-bye.
  • Do your main characters have believable back stories and arcs, and do they act appropriately in character at all times?
  • Is there any point in time when your characters do something that they literally WOULD NOT DO? Change that up.

WORLD-BUILDING, CHARACTERIZATION, HONING IN PLOT POINTS

  • Now pay attention to the deeper aspects of the story. Delve into the world your characters live in. Do they react appropriately? Does any part of society influence them more than others?
  • What does your world look like? Delve into the setting. The cultures, the technology, the history.
  • Work with your secondary characters and how they interact with your main characters. What role do they serve overall? Does the main character’s journey affect them at all, or vice versa?
  • Tighten up plot points. Stay concise if possible.

SENTENCE STRUCTURE, FLOW AND PACING OF SCENES

  • Now that the major parts of your story have been patted down, you can begin focusing on the technical stuff. Start broad.
  • Do you have redundant sentences? Do you start multiple sentences the same way?
  • Throw in short sentences.
  • Drop the pronoun from the beginning of a sentence every now and then.
  • Use commas instead of ‘and’ if you find you use ‘and’ a lot.
  • Does the flow of sentences and paragraphs fit with the tone of the scene?
  • Chop sentences apart. Use quick, sharp words.
  • Or combine sentences and flowery language and soft words.

BETA READER CRITIQUES AND SUGGESTIONS

  • Now that you’ve really patted this thing down, find people willing to read your work (hopefully for free).
  • Ask them to point out inconsistencies. Are they confused by anything?
  • Beta readers can tell you when things are boring or exciting. They’ll laugh. They’ll fangirl. They’ll beg you for more chapters.
  • Your brain is soft from so much revising. Beta readers are fresh, and will pick out things you’ve glossed over from seeing it so many times.
  • Shake things up and host a video chat for you and your betas! It’s a great way to make friends :)

PUNCTUATION AND MISSING WORDS

  • NOWWWWW you’ve finished all the major revisions and your story makes sense!!! All that’s left to do is get the broom and sweep it up (or the vacuum cleaner, or generate a black hole from the Large Hadron Collider to suck out all the errors because that’s super-effective**).
  • This is the nitty gritty stuff, and I highly recommend either forcing yourself to read really, really slow, or better yet, read your book out loud, start to finish.
  • You’ll trip up over misplaced commas and periods.
  • You’ll literally hear when a sentence is awkward.
  • Your brain will get confused when there’s a missing word.
  • Fill in the gaps, hammer down the boards, tidy up the place like you’ve got guests coming over.

THE FINAL DRAFT

  • OMG
  • OMG
  • OMG
  • OMG IT’S FINISHED AND YOU CAN SHARE IT WITH THE WORLD AND BUY PHYSICAL COPIES THAT YOU CAN HOLD AND SMELL AND RUB ALL OVER YOUR FACE AND DRAW IN AND DOG-EAR AND TOTE AROUND TO SHOW PEOPLE AND SIGN AUTOGRAPHS AND BECOME YOUR OWN LITTLE CELEBRITY!!!
  • Email the newspaper (I’ve appeared multiple times).
  • Email the local TV station (I’ve appeared on live TV).
  • Email book talk radio shows (I’ve had a Q&A for an hour on live radio).
  • ……..Marketing is hard.

I hope that helps!

N.B. **please do not ask CERN for permission to use the Large Hadron Collider to create black holes that suck out all the errors in your book. You’ll look silly, and you might destroy Earth in the process.

Why a Hamilton? - Part 4

Character: Jefferson X Reader
Prompt: Running away from your problems is a bad idea. Especially if you are running away in the rain. Extra especial if you get sick in said rain. :D
Word Count: 2,043
W/T: Some cursing
A/N: To the Anon wanting a Madison appearance, there will be a MUCH bigger role for him in Part 5, he just didn’t fit in all that well in this one. Hope y'all enjoy!
~SJ

———

The sight of your warm and inviting home dawns in your eyes, the dim windows enticing you to run to them. A small smile works its way onto your lips, but only a moment before you begin to sneeze. You were happy to be away from Alexander and Thomas’ fighting for the time being, but you weren’t so happy about the quick cold you’ve caught from being out in this downpour for so long. The rain has even changed temperature against your skin, indicating that you almost certainly have a fever.

It’s always been like this, for you and Alexander both. You were both prone to catching some sort of cold or fever, but neither of you were ever stricken down by it. It would only last for a day or so before you’d be back on your feet, ready to go. You hope this is the same situation.

Gathering up the last ounce of strength you have, you trudge on to your house, ready to be out of the cold. A single bolt of lightning flashes across the sky, and a deafening clap of thunder follows after it, only adding to your desire to be inside. You sneeze again, a fleck of dry blood flying onto your forearm from your cheek, the cut from earlier stinging a bit. Shivering, you step onto the muddy pathway to the front porch of the house, praying that there was already firewood in the house. Sneezing again, you hike your dress up in your hands and ascend the small set of stairs up the front porch and to the front door, wringing out your hair.

Seeing as the front door was unlocked, you press your hands against the cool wood, the hinges obeying your push. You quickly step inside, allowing the door to slam behind you, the sound echoing through the empty house. The house itself was dark except for a single, flickering flame from a nearby candle that Alexander must have forgotten to blow out. Cautiously, you grab ahold of the silver holder, the light from the candle dully reflecting off of the metal, and tiptoe over to the other candles around the room, the interior becoming brighter and brighter. The added flames jump atop their wicks, their heated tops licking upwards, casting odd and scattered shadows around the room.

Silently, you stand in awe of the commonplace lighting, the sound of the relentless storm outside mercilessly pounding against the roof of the house. The utter absence of any other voices sends another shiver down your spine, an all too eerie sensation filling the room. Your quick onslaught of sneezes interrupts it, but the silence swallows the noise as quickly as it comes.

But a strong series of knocks rings out across the room, startling you backwards a couple of feet. Sneezing once more, you compose yourself slightly, wishing to be out of your sopping wet dress. The knocks sound again, this time an urgency to them. Taking a deep breath, you wrap your fingers around the handle once more and crack it open, peeking out around door to see who was there. Eyes wide with worry and hair drooping with rain stood Thomas, his magenta coat a deeper shade of purple than usual. “Thomas?” You manage to ask before another sneeze, your vision blurring for a split second. “May I come in?” He laughs nervously, glancing up at incoming rain. Opening the door further, you motion for him to come in, something dropping in your chest at the sight of him drenched.

“Wha… I don't…” You trail, fumbling to find the right words for the current situation. “Are you alright?” He spouts off, holding your chin in his hand as he examines your cut from earlier in the meeting room. “W-what are you doing here?” You finally muster out, his face inches from yours. His dark eyes lower to meet yours, swimming with emotion. He pauses for a moment, almost as if he were surprised by your question. “What do you mean, Y/N? You were injured and then you ran off without warning and… why wouldn’t I have followed you? I had to make sure you weren’t in pain, at least.” He answers softly, his hand moving from your chin to gently running itself across your cut. You wince at the touch, taking in a sharp breath. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

You open your mouth to tell him yes, but instead you quickly snap your head to the side, breaking into a small coughing fit. You lean away from him, trying to keep your hacking under control. “Obviously you aren’t.” He breathes, blinking slowly. You smile weakly at him, unsure how to respond. “Come on, you need to get out of that dress.” Thomas deadpans, his eyes still worried sick over you. “Bet you’d like that.” You murmur, earning a mischievous smile from him. “You’re not wrong, kitten, but that’s not what I meant. You’re going to keep coughing as long as you’re in that thing.” Giving him a small nod, you briskly brush past him, heading towards your bedroom. You try to snake your hands around to untie the back of the dress, but that’s when you remember that you’re wearing your “help dress” as you call it, being that you always have to get help untying it.

“Uh, Thomas?” You call out, already knowing that your cheeks are burning pink. “Yeah, what do you need, are you okay?” He asks, rushing over to you. You cough again, your vision blurring for another moment before turning to him, a sheepish smile etched onto your lips. “No no, I’m fine, I just… I need help untying this.” You admit, not wanting to meet his gaze. A surprised noise escapes Thomas’ mouth before he can stop himself, forcing an embarrassed blush across his own cheeks. “Uuhhhhhh, yeah. This here?” He asks hesitantly, the warmth from his hands burning through the damp dress backing. You place a hand under the breast of the dress, making sure it doesn’t slip. “Yeah.” You breathe, trying to suppress the heat rising in your cheeks and chest. You could feel him right behind you, his body not even inches from yours. Thomas’ sickly hot breath creeps down your neck, making the hairs on the back of it stand up as he continues.

“Y/N!” Alexander shouts, scaring you just as badly as it does Thomas. He shoots backward, and you spin around on your heels just as quickly, scanning the now wide open front door, where your brother stood, about to boil over with rage. “You fucking Francophile! How dare you enter my own home and then proceed to-” “Alex it’s not what it looks like.” You plead, stepping in front of him as quickly as you can to stop him from charging st Thomas. He himself was also soaking wet, but it was a minimal detail compared to his outrage. “Not what it looks like?! He had his hands all over you, Y/N! Like hell it wasn’t what it looked like!” He fumes, attempting to push past you. “Like hell I would mistreat Y/N like that.” Thomas growls, stepping towards Alexander. “Both of you stop it.” You demand, glaring at Thomas while pushing Alex back with your free hand. “Alexander, you are jumping to conclusions again.” You hiss. “How am I jumping to conclusions when I saw everything I needed to?” He exclaims, crossing his arms.

“Please explain this to him, for most definitely will not listen to me.” Thomas groans, rubbing his temples. “Alex, you remember this dress, don’t you?” You ask as politely and aggressively as you can sound. “Yeah that’s your… Oh. It’s the ‘Help Dress’, isn’t it?” He trails, quickly putting two and two together. “Yes. And because you weren’t here at the time, I let Thomas help me, before you so rudely yelled at him.” You spit, pinching the bridge of your noise to try and refocus your vision that seems to keep going fuzzy, especially when you sneeze or cough. “Exactly why he should-” “Thomas, don’t start this.” You warn, still trying to clear your sight of all fuzziness.

“So what if he as just helping you out of your dress, Y/N? He shouldn’t even be here in the first place! This is the Hamilton residence, last I checked.” Alexander points out, narrowing his eyes at him. “Well maybe it’s because I wanted to make sure that your sister hadn’t been hurt too badly by your ill actions to her from earlier. Forgive me for attempting to care.” Thomas sneers, rewarding him in another glare from you. “Get out of my house, Jefferson.” “No. In fact, I’m going to stay here to make Y/N isn’t feeling awful.” He refuses, trying to push Alexander over the edge. “That isn’t your decision to make, so I suggest you leave before things turn ugly again.” Alex huffs in an attempt to control his anger. “Oh? And what are you going to do about it, you short fucker?” “Guys please.” You beg, trying to push them away from each other again.

“Jefferson, stop.” A new voice demands in a rather polite tone, adding only confusion to the mess. Glancing around Alexander, you catch sight of Madison standing in your doorway, shaking off an umbrella onto the porch. “James? What are you doing here?” Thomas questions, the surprise and confusion very evident in his voice. “I came because I knew you were going to get yourself into trouble.” He answers softly, a look of annoyance on his face. “From what I can glean from what I am seeing, I would go as far to say that my hunch was correct.” Madison carefully leans the umbrella against the inside of the wall and shuts the door behind him, the small click filling the room instead of a slam.

Another onslaught of coughs rattles through you, making your vision fuzzy once again, this time much darker than the first few times. You feel as though you hear Madison mutter “same” under his breath, but your dizziness is a much more pressing matter at the moment. “Look,” You start, trying to steady yourself. “Washington told me that I need to get you two to work this out. So if you could figure this out before I pass out, that would be fantastic.” You grimace, a wave of exhaustion flooding over you as another round of coughs overtakes you. “What? Y/N, are you okay?” Alex quickly asks, stepping forward to feel your forehead. “Not really.” You murmur, still trying to blink away the fuzziness. “You’re burning up.” He whispers, taking your hands in his. “Which is exactly why I was helping her out of that sopping wet dress, Hamilton.” Thomas scoffs, gently pulling you back towards him. “You have no need to, Jefferson. You don’t know how bad our immune systems are. You may take your leave now.” You blink at Alexander, trying to get his face to focus, but everything seems like it’s wrapping into an impressionist painting, where the colors blend together and nothing is in focus.

“Both of you, please stop arguing over her health.” Madison interjects, stepping forward. “At least I don’t lash out and physically hurt people.” Thomas fires back, tugging on your shoulder a little harder. “At least I know that I’m not going to let you touch her.” Alexander presses, almost yanking you back to him. “Guys.” You whisper, black dots now appearing across your eyes. Neither one of them look to you, they just continue to argue, your arms being pulled on mercilessly. You try to shake their grip, but their hold on you seemed to be the only thing keeping you upright. “Hamilton. Jefferson.” Madison finally raises his voice, allowing for it to boom around the room. Both men turn to him, surprised. They both unlatch themselves from your arms, only giving you full mobility to drop to the ground.

The hardwood floor rushed to meet you, and your head bashes against it, pain surging through you. The black dots grow to swallow almost everything in sight, and the shouts become faded whispers as your weak immune system takes ahold of you, pulling you to unconsciousness.

Why did you have to be a Hamilton?

anonymous asked:

can you please write a neymar imagine? i don't care what it's about, i just love reading your imagines <345

hello! thank you very much, this is super nice 😋💜 hope you like this! (even tho it’s not exactly happy or long — which i’m sorry about but i figured i could write a second part to this if people liked it lol)


You try to take deep, shaky breaths as you watch your fingers loosen and tighten around the cup of tea you’re holding, your heart beating fast in your chest, your throat tight. It feels like you’re not getting enough air to fill your lungs but the deeper you breathe the dizzier you become, and you can’t be dizzy. Not with Neymar sitting on the couch across from you, not with what he’d just told you.

He has his head down, like he can’t look you in the eyes. His shoulders are slouched while his underarms rest on his knees, his fingers intertwined with their tips kneading the backs of his hands nervously.

He doesn’t make a sound. Neither do you.

It is so odd to sit in silence with your favorite person — the one guy you always have something to tell to, always have a laugh with, always can turn to. Now the mere idea of forming sensible thoughts seems unattainable.

Exhaling deeply, you bury your head in your hands. Loose strands of hair that have somehow fallen out of your messy bun tickle your neck with the movement but you’re too tired to retie your hair, too tired to move in general.

“Are you still talking to me?” Neymar says after a while, his voice shaky and soft, like he’s hesitant to speak at all. You don’t look up at him but you can feel that he has, the weight of his stare heating your body.

You’re not sure what to answer. Of course you are still going to talk to him but if you are ready to do so just yet, you’re not certain. There are so many questions rushing through your mind, causing your head to throb, dizzying you. You long for something to hold on to, something to take your thoughts somewhere else, but you know there’s no escaping this situation now. You can’t flee, you can’t let this be the end of your relationship. Or at least not end your relationship like this. Honestly, you’re not sure you can go on now, sleep by his side every night, kiss him good morning before he has to leave for training, wear the shirt with his name on it to every game you can attend …

“Yeah,” you mumble into the palms of your hands, your eyes shut tight but tears still finding their way out of them and streaming down your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice breaking. You can hear the soft scroop of the pillows when Neymar shuffles over to where you’re sitting. He’s not coming close — thank God — but he is here, next to you, and his presence calms you down immediately. Which is strange considering he’s the reason you are feeling this way in the first place.

You take another deep breath. “How far along is she?”

“Couple weeks.”

“How many?”

His voice is hardly more than a whisper now, “Sixteen.”

A sob falls from your mouth, shakes your body, makes your heart pull and pinch. You can feel your energy drain away, leaving you weak, your muscles slack; continuing to sit upright becomes harder with every minute that passes.

“I’m so sorry,” Neymar repeats. You know he means it — it’s obvious in the way his voice sounds, obvious in his hesitancy and unease — but what you don’t know is what to make of it. So you just keep crying.

“You’re such a fucking asshole.”

His hand curls around your knee, squeezing gently, soothingly. “I’m really so sorry, babe. Please, I—”

“You cheated on me,” you say, the words barely audible as they’re being swallowed by the sobs that still shake your body. “You seriously cheated on me? Why? Why did you do that? God, I hate you so much.”

This time, he doesn’t say anything. You let your hands drop from your face and slap his hand, that’s still resting on your knee, away. Neymar flinches but doesn’t protest. Instead, he bites the inside of his cheek and stares out of the window. You watch his eyes well up with tears, watch as he presses his lips together, but you suppress the urge to comfort him even although it hurts to see him like this.

And suddenly, his silence pisses you off. He doesn’t have the right to cry at all, not with what he’s done to you, and he does owe you answers. Furious, you slap his arm. Not hard enough for it to hurt but he flinches again before he runs a hand over his face, dashing away tears.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I was drunk.” With furrowed eyebrows and rapid breathing you look on as he bows his head and starts sobbing as well. His fingers run through his blonde strands of hair, keeping them out of his face but tugging on them slightly. You have no clue what to do so you just let him cry to himself as you do the same.

“Did you even go with her to see a doctor?”

Neymar doesn’t answer, only shakes his head.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. Seriously. I’m so, so sorry. I never meant to hurt you, that’s the last thing I’d ever want,” he rasps, still crying, still shaking, still not looking at you. “I love you, babe. I love you. I really do. Please, just—”

“Please,” you interrupt as you try to control your breathing, “Please, just … shut up.”

He does. He presses his lips together again and looks away, setting his eyes on a spot above the TV screen.

Everything Neymar told you today is hard to process. Obviously. Your boyfriend of two years has admitted to cheating on you and getting the woman he cheated with pregnant. And, well … sixteen weeks. You know what that means. Even if she had wanted to abort the pregnancy, it’s too late for that now. So, your boyfriend is definitely going to become a father to a child that isn’t yours. It’s hard to think about that but there’s nothing you can or would do about it, anyway. That’s his thing to work out now, not yours.

For what’s probably the ten-thousandth time today, you take a deep breath, letting the oxygen erase all the dizziness inside your brain, and stand up.

Neymar, with his eyes red and his cheeks pale, looks up at you, panic glistening in his gorgeous golden eyes. “What are you doing?”

You wipe away a tear and shrug. “I need to think. Don’t call me, Ney, please.”

Instantly, he jumps off the couch, too. When he’s standing in front of you and has his hands on your shoulders, he asks, “What?” Again, his voice breaks.

You can’t answer. It is almost like his troubled expression mixed with that look in his eyes has you paralyzed.

Softly, he shakes you. “What are you talking about?”

You feel another tear roll down your cheek, into the corner of your mouth. A second later you taste the saltiness. “This is a lot to handle and I can’t deal with this right now.”

At that, Neymar freezes. “Are you — are you breaking up with me?”

The question makes your head hurt and your heart tighten. “I don’t know.”

Neymar stares at you. You see his jaw move when he clenches his teeth, his Adam’s apple bopping up and down as he swallows hard. His breathing becomes heavier, therefore more audible, and even though he averts his eyes from yours and turns his head, you notice the tears.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

And then you hear he’s crying. He sits back down, rests his underarms on his knees and bends over to bury his head in his arms as the sobs start to make his body tremble again.

“I love you so much,” he blubbers out in between gulped back sobs.

But because you can’t listen to him say those words right now, you leave.

anonymous asked:

Basketball!Percy and Nerdy!Annabeth AU please? You don't have to, but I think it would be totally cool, especially with your talent.

‘It will look good on a college application’ is the official-unofficial motto of Annabeth’s life. She’s only a freshman but nothing beats a head start on building your list of extracurricular activities. Her advisor had suggested that helping one of the school’s teams would be a addition to her ever growing brag sheet so she’d fallen for it. Which is the reason she’s sitting at a plastic folding table watching the Junior Varsity basketball team face off against their cross-town rivals. She twirls the pen in her right hand and holds the switch for the shot clock in her left.

Normally they have two students work the scoreboard and rosters but Annabeth is more than capable to multitask and managed to get permission to work by herself. Having to do all the work is still simpler than having to deal with someone else fumbling around and making mistakes.

A boy with black hair and brilliant green eyes scores a basket making the crowd behind her erupt into cheers and he smiles sheepishly. Annabeth adds the points to the scoreboard and jots down the points by his number. When she looks back up she catches him looking at her and furrows her brows. He quickly turns his head away and looks back to the game going on around him. Annabeth keeps her eyes on him even after the ref blows his whistle and calls traveling on the other team and holds up the player’s number. She catches the number out of the corner of her eye and marks it down as she ups the foul count on the scoreboard. She only takes her eyes off him for a split second to make sure the lights have changed over on the out of date board but once again his eyes are on her when she looks back.

Annabeth bristles and tightens her fist around the shot clock switch. She’s not spending valuable study time pushing buttons and watching sweaty boys chase each other around only to have one of the star players making eyes at her. She gives him a glare that she’s sure will make his blood boil and eyes burst and the next time he glances at her it nearly makes him miss a pass. He recovers and goes in for a layup but misses and Annabeth smiles to herself thinking how teenage boys are so dumb sometimes.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

If youre still taking requests, I would love one where Shika and Tema are getting pep talks right before their first date. Like the do's and don'ts. You can choose who would be giving them the pep talk. And in the end, they find they haven't need the advice given to them.

I had so much fun writing this and so I hope you all enjoy the first post I’ve written on here in ages. Hope you’re all having a lovely day/night and like to hear about Temari and Shikamaru stressing over nothing :)

Enjoy some good ol’ ShikaTema, guys! 

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .

‘HELPFUL’ ADVICE

“Sakura, are you sure about this?”

“Of course I’m sure! Don’t get so het up about it—it’s just a date.”

Temari winced as she looked at herself in the mirror, floaty black dress hanging elegantly at her sides and hair tied not in her usual ponytails but tightly back into a neat bun atop her head at the request of the pink haired girl beside her.

As much as she had wanted to protest, Sakura had insisted the minute she took a step through Konoha’s gate that she would stay with her. Maybe she’d known that only a few hours later, out of nowhere, Shikamaru would turn up at the door.

His hands were deeper in his pockets than ever, his gaze set on the dust on his boots. Those dark eyes held no emotion or interest, even when they lifted to meet hers. As the question tumbled out his expression did nothing but lift a little, but when Temari stuttered out a response she was certain she saw him smile as he saluted and slumped away.

Now here she stood, dressed up more beautiful than she ever thought she could be and tugging at each strand of hair that knotted at the back of her head. Staying here was undeniably pleasant but grew awkward enough the minute she explained to Sakura why she would be out tonight. As she’d dreaded the girl had grabbed her by the shoulders and insisted that she helped her get ready.

It was mostly out of sympathy that Temari agreed. She knew the younger girl was popular with the men she spent time with, but never seemed to get what she wanted or what she deserved. This torment was for her sake—or at least that’s what Temari told herself.

It’s just a date…

Her fingers still twisted and tucked beneath the many blonde strands, trying desperately to loosen the painfully tight pull on her scalp. “Can I please take my hair out of this thing?”

“But you look gorgeous,” whined Sakura, rubbing on her arm comfortingly. “Just leave it as it is and Shikamaru will be blown away.”

“Shikamaru’s never blown away by anything,” she shot back, skeptical.

Besides, she wasn’t sure she wanted to blow him away. A date was something she’d only been on twice before; one of which was an information retrieval mission while the other was just to pity some man Kankuro befriended, so she had no idea how to act or what to do.

Temari was never particularly fond of romance. She’d grown up with parents who never showed much affection to one another until one of them was lost from the land of the living. On top of that she’d been brought up to be fierce and strong, fighting a battle in her own mind every day about her youngest brother and the expectations that came with being the Kazekage’s daughter. Romance and love that was anything but platonic played no part in her life: there just wasn’t time.

During her later teenage years she was confined to the battlefield, watching man after man run, fight and die. She’d taken control, stood beside and behind those she cared about whenever they needed her.

A war was the last place for love, her father had once told her, but looking back it seemed the place that needed love most.

Now the world was at peace and so many things had occurred—more than just her brother’s face-paint changing drastically. Maybe it was time, she thought, for a change.

But change, to Temari, was scary.

As she sat down, yanking on the stumpy, block heel of the shoes she had deemed most appropriate she started to think harder about what she was doing, about dating and about Shikamaru.

What was she mean to say and do when she locked eyes on him? What topics of conversation were suitable? What did she do when they went their separate ways?

“Temari?”

She looked up, eyebrows raised at the younger girl. “Hmm?”

“Do you actually like Shikamaru?”

As the words were processed it began to sink in that this was a question she hadn’t answered to herself yet. She liked him in the way that she trusted him—he was a valuable asset to her village’s exchanges and communication with Konoha. Not to mention he was a fine shinobi and a strategist to more then match her own abilities.

Yes, he was admirable, but was also the sort of person who drove her insane. Then again, the more she envisaged his face and build the more she wondered if the parts of him that weren’t frustrating outweighed the parts that were. He was incredibly handsome after all…

“I don’t know,” replied Temari truthfully. “I’ve not really thought about it.”
Sakura smirked. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find out. You’ll smash it tonight. It’s just like any other date.”

Which wouldn’t be a problem if I had been on any real dates.

Regrettably Temari did little more than hum in response, letting her head hang as she slowly fiddled with the buckle of her heels. Not that she’d want to admit it, but she was panicking. Her hand were shaking as she fumbled with the strap and her lip was so tight between her teeth she was worried she’d soon taste blood. She really didn’t want to screw this up.

“Tem?”

I guess that means I do like him… she reasoned.

“Temari, are you alright?”

Isn’t that just fantastic? Now I’ll be more embarrassed when I ultimately make myself look like a fool.

“If you don’t want to go then you don’t have to—”

“How do you act on a date?” Temari’s voice was sharp but somewhat quaky, a big difference to the strong defiance Sakura usually saw from her.
Sakura’s eyes widened. “You mean you’ve never—”

“No, I’ve never been on one; not a proper one,” she interrupted. “See, I don’t know if I like that him or not, but clearly it’s enough that I agreed to this. I don’t want to do anything wrong.” There was a pause as she got to her feet and crossed her arms self-consciously across her frame. “What do I do?”

“First off,” Sakura smiled, “do you feel comfortable in yourself? Do you feel beautiful?”

Temari frowned. “Well, I’d like to take down my bloody hair but you won’t let me. Otherwise…I guess so.”

“Don’t let me push you, just do what you want.” Grinning, the pink haired girl pulled her friend into a tight hug, reaching up on tip toes to not be dwarfed by the blonde. She rubbed her back comfortingly and gave it a light tap. “You’re the lady out there so you make sure he knows that. If he doesn’t treat you like you expect then that’s not your fault—it’s all his. Secondly, get some prolonged eye contact in there to steam things up a bit—”

“Sakura,” she sighed. “I don’t want steamy—”

“—but no obvious smouldering glares because they’re scary. Make the most of your gorgeous legs and make sure he takes notice of how hot you look, Tem. He’ll drool! Oh, and also touch his hands as you walk. Little touches, you know?”

Temari rubbed her hands together and let out a tremendous sigh and she nodded.

No, she didn’t know. She had no idea at all, but she’d try her best with that advice anyway.


“Please do explain why you’re now the champion with women?”

Chouji frowned, laughing in hope his friend might lighten up for a minute. “Like I said: last week I got a waitresses number at the barbecue restaurant.”

“And so that makes you a champion?”

“Yep.”

“Well, excuse me if I miss out on the dumb food related pick-up lines, Casanova. I’ll stick to my normal self,” groaned Shikamaru, running his hands through his hair and trying to put it up for the eighth time.

“You mean complaining at everything you see and hoping things work out so you don’t have to chip in.”

“Exactly.”

“You don’t get how dating works, do you, Shikamaru?” Chouji grinned.

No, but he did know that’s not how dating worked. The whole deal of taking people expensive places and paying more money than he had on a lump of rock was hardly his style and was way too troublesome for him to jump on the bandwagon of. However, he knew he had to make some sort of effort.

Then again he hadn’t decided where he was taking her or what they would be doing. He hadn’t booked a table at any restaurant or planned out a route around town or anything to do.

It’s not dark yet, he noted. I suppose we could watch the clouds…

“Please tell me you at least know where you’re going to take her?”

Shikamaru coughed and rubbed his eyes.

“You don’t know, do you?” It seemed as though Chouji’s eyebrows had disappeared from his face they were so raised. “Shikamaru, you’ve fancied the crap out of her the last year; the least you can do is try. Do you want to be with her or not?”

“I don’t fancy her,” his friend replied stubbornly, clearly lying through his teeth. “Even if she is beautiful she’s bloody irritating.”

“Why did you ask her out then?”

He paused, staring at himself, hopelessly gaping at his reflection in the mirror. “I honestly don’t know.”

Chouji slapped his friend’s back, the impact’s shock shuddering through his body and shaking his bones. If the young man wasn’t already inwardly quaking with his nerves he was now at his friend’s supposedly comforting touch. He stared at Chouji’s eyes in the reflection, and the cheeky smile that he harboured in them. God, how he wished he felt that upbeat and happy about the whole situation—if only he could make a joke of it all. Instead here he was, doing all he could to keep his expressionless face from falling into the same worry that was giving him a headache.

“Let me give you some advice, alright? A pep talk if you want to call it that,” said Chouji, smiling brightly. “Just treat her right. Pay for whatever she wants to drink or eat, make sure she knows you’ve got her covered and that she can rely on you…just treat her!”

Shikamaru’s stomach dropped and his brow grew tight with a frown. That didn’t sound like a good idea to him at all and seemed just the opposite of what Temari would want. After all, it was clearer to Shikamaru more than most that the woman definitely did not need to rely on him. She was strong and quick-witted, and although he was smarter with ease she still put up an incredibly fight, giving him a real run for his money.

Still, as much as he disagreed, he didn’t want to argue. He nodded. Confrontation was too much work, especially when you’re already stressing out. “Sure.”

“Seriously,” added the larger young man. “And make sure you use pet names; stuff like sweetheart, honey, babe, sweet thing…”

“Sweet thing? Are you trying to get me punched, Chouji?”

He smirked, giving Shikamaru’s ponytail a ruffle and pulling it out once again. As his friend huffed and went to fixing it once again he tapped his shoulder laughed. “Thank me later, man. Have fun.”

But Shikamaru wasn’t thanking anyone except her for agreeing to spend her evening with him. Still, even then he couldn’t manage to out the hundreds of words that flooded his head. “I don’t fancy her,” he had said.

God, had he lied.

As she made her way towards him down the steps of Sakura’s home, the genius felt like the village idiot. One look at her in that black dress made him forget everything he’d ever known and his entire vocabulary vanished at the sound of her firm voice saying, “Evening,” as a blush grazed across her cheeks. He knew his face would be the same. His dark eyes wandered about her figure in a way they never had anyone’s before, spending an age just climbing the beautiful sun-kissed curves of her legs.

“Hey, you know what they say, right? Take a picture and that.”

He snapped out of it, physically shaking himself out of the light-headed haze her sheer beauty put him in. Scoffing, he crossed his arms. “Not my fault you don’t scrub up too bad.”

“You’re the reason I had to scrub up,” she teased, biting down on her lip.
He froze. Jesus, how much did he want to bite that lip himself?

Oh, grow up, Shikamaru. Say something sensible.

“Um, yeah. Well, babe, are we ready to go?”
 Temari raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. She didn’t say a word, unsure of how she was meant to respond. Although she didn’t mind the word word ‘babe’ it was safe to say that it seemed Shikamaru looked uncomfortable getting the word out, leaving her heart thumping a confused, unsettled rhythm.

As she nodded, the young man began to drag his feet along the path. He walked slightly ahead of her, giving her a clear view of him leading the way to wherever it was that they were going. Shocked as she was at his choice of names she wasn’t at all surprised at the appeal of his stature.

His hands were buried deep into his pockets and his shoulders were relaxed—not hunched, just not straight up, covered by the dark high-neck shirt he always opted for in casual hours. It wasn’t tight by any means but was fitted enough that it showed his protruding shoulder blades and clung to the muscles on his arms. The definition she could make out and the level of his fitness shouldn’t really have surprised her. Even if he was lazy the man was still a ninja, and one who could fight on and on if he really had to.

The dark hair that was pulled into the messiest of ponytails was beginning to come loose, dancing on the back of his pale neck. For some reason Temari couldn’t help wishing that she could grab that useless hair tie and set free the hair. She wanted to run her hands through it and feel each strand between her war-torn fingers with the hope that his gentleness might soothe the aches and heal the scars.

“So, where are you taking me?” she asked, her voice low and somewhat sultry. ‘Steamy’ is how Sakura had put it, making it sound a lot more innocent than it really was. What is was seemed a bad idea.

If Shikamaru wasn’t blushing at her provocative tone then he must’ve been at the gentle grazing of her hand on his. As their knuckles clashed for a mere second as he pulled his left hand from his pocket to point in response to her question, he felt himself overheating and hoping it would happen again.

It did; again and again as they made their way to their destination and even after that. The only piece of helpful advice she’d been given being successfully put into play.


“Oh, and Sakura told me that I had to show off my legs because they were hot and that’d make you drool.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m drooling, but it’s true you scrub up alright.”

They sat on a park bench—Shikamaru with his legs crossed as he tapped on the sides of the empty noodle packets in his lap. He smiled, giddily watching Temari stare up at the sky night. She was lost in the patterns of the stars, wispy bits of stubborn blonde hair falling from her bun as the breeze wormed it’s way through.

Over the course of the evening the pair had opened up. It really hadn’t taken long for them to adjust, throwing aside all the strange and frankly unhelpful advice that their friend’s had given them. They washed it away with the cheap wine Shikamaru bought on their way to the park, blurting out almost every word they’d been told to the other one.

There was a lot of laughter. A beautiful beam plastered on her face; the handsome curve of one corner of his mouth never left, only growing and growing throughout the evening.

Temari laughed as teal met brown for the hundredth time that night. “What a charmer you are…”

“It’s true.”

His head turned a little more directly, eyes focussing on her like a camera lens. Everything but her was a blur to him; unimportant and lifeless in comparison. Time slowed as he raised his hand to her cheek, his fingertips gliding up her face and into her hair. One second his finger was hooked around the tie that constricted her blonde locks, the next it was pulling up and out.

Waves cascaded—a golden waterfall across her shoulders, drenching his hands in it’s precious touch. The band snapped, but he cared so little as he smiled the realest smile Temari had seen on his lips.

“You’re very beautiful, if a little intimidating…”

Blushing, Temari pressed her hand on top of his. “Don’t try and flatter me, Nara.”

“Is it working?” he teased.

It is, she admitted inwardly. “I think I’ll need a second one of these meetings to decide on that.”

Shikamaru chuckled. “Oh, really?”

“Mhm.”

“If we have to,” sighed the lazy man. “Just don’t expect anything fancy.”

“I won’t, believe me. I know you too well. You’re damn lucky I expected nothing more than crap takeaway noodles tonight anyway…”

Once again she bit her lip, whispering her last few words as she leaned in towards Shikamaru. He could feel her breath on his lips and waited with baited breath for the capture of her lips on his. It was tantalising torture, all proceeded too slowly even for the man with more patience than anyone he knew.

“You’re such a tease, you know, sweet thing,” he said with a smirk, wondering what one last jokey attempt of his friend’s advice would do.

Temari pulled back, groaning. “Never call me ‘sweet thing’ ever again in my life or I swear I will punch you right between the eyes.”

Quick Mckirk smut idea: Alright, teacher/student college!au, where Bones is a professor, with old wireframe glasses and a worn in sweatervest and everything, and Jim’s the star jock, with a permanent cocky grin and a letter jacket and all that.

And Bones is on his back on the old wooden desk, glasses crooked and cheeks flushed pink as Jim has the brunet’s long legs wrapped around his waist, the blond grinning wickedly as he licks his lips and fucks in harder, purring ‘Am I your favourite student now, professor?’ and Bones just bites his knuckles to keep quiet.

And Jim leans forward, bending the older man in half as he pushes in deeper, blue eyes bright and wicked as he bites at his chin, whispers, 'Aw, don’t be getting all shy on me now, you always have plenty to say during class.’ Jim grunts as he grabs onto the desk and pounds in so hard it quakes, giving a forced grin as he practically growls out, 'Especially when that little Russian speaks up. He caught your eye, doc?’

And the man who indeed has a doctorate, though right now it means nothing as it feels like his mind has all but melted at this point, just gives a muffled whine but doesn’t answer, bottom lip reddening quickly as he bites down on it desperately.

And the lack of answer makes the jock snarl, throwing the professor’s legs over his shoulders and pulling him forward to the edge of the desk and into his lap, grip tight as his voice rumbles in his chest, handsome face set in a scowl, 'Only look at me, professor.’

And as Jim bucks in again in an unhealthily good way, Bones manages enough thoughts together as his glasses slip further off his nose as he’s bounced on the young man’s huge cock, that the jock is jealous.

And part of Bones wants to grin, it really does, as the star football player with unpredictably excellent grades and damn fine good looks to boot, is jealous that his old, bitter, divorced biology professor may be spending the lecture actually looking at someone other than him.

Another, more pressing part of Bones wants nothing more than to try not to break apart into pieces as the man above and in him was determined to try and fuck him right through his desk and potentially onto the next floor down.

In the end, all he can manage to do is whimper, and blue eyes widen at the sound, before Jim lunges forward to bite hard at his shoulder, growling, 'Look at me, look at me, look only at me,and Bones can’t argue or answer because he’s afraid he’ll lose all control if he attempts anything other than keeping his hold on his desk and it just makes Jim lose it and fuck harder and work the other’s cock like it’s his mission and Leonard comes to the feeling of the young man quaking above him, liquid heat spilling inside him and leaking down his thighs, bruises blooming on his back and his hips and his shoulder that he’ll be relishing for weeks.

And he’s still rendered mute as he lays back and gasps for air, Jim collapsed on top of him, inside of him, panting and not moving even though Bones’ spread legs are beginning to ache.

But then the kid just looks at him, too bright too blue eyes staring far deeper than any twenty-something year old should, showing such a mix of feelings and wants and thoughts, and underneath it all just a desperate, almost child-like need for attention, for Leonard’s attention, and it’s raw and vexing and the professor doesn’t know how to process such a look, much less one directed solely at him, and all he can do is breathe and stare.

And then blue eyes narrow again, the change from bare to brat occurring almost instantaneously, as Jim stands and fixes his jacket and the false grin on his face, licking his fingers clean of Leonard’s come as he smears his own dripping between the brunet’s thighs, saying playfully, 'Good lecture as always, doc. Maybe I’ll come to the next one.’

And Bone still doesn’t answer him, can barely catch his breath, and Jim leaves him there, a taken apart mess on his desk, to try and piece together his unfathomable life again.

And despite Jim’s words, each and every class, Bones sees those too blue eyes staring at him. And after every class, Jim just takes him apart again.

And Bones still can’t bring himself to argue.

Don't.

I have been told on multiple occasions that I don’t count as a Polynesian because of the following:

1. My last name is a “white” name

2. I don’t do traditional dances anymore

3. I sound “white” and don’t speak Samoan

4. I “look” Asian

I have been told this by many, many different people, but when these statements come from other Polynesian people, it cuts deeper.

I really just want to say, do not discount my experiences as a Polynesian just because I do not fit the idea of what a “typical Polynesian” is. There is no set way for us to look/act, but you want to tell me I’m not “Poly enough." My last name is white because my grandfather is German AND Hawaiian. I don’t dance Hula anymore because I wasn’t happy dancing for my old Halau. Speaking in full and complete sentences does not mean I "sound white.” It’s how I talk. Also, I can’t understand or speak a language I didn’t grow up hearing. And there is no set way for Asians to look so stop with that nonsense as well.

I’m sick of other people telling me that I’m not Samoan, or Hawaiian because of these 4 things. You don’t know me, you don’t know anything. But what you will know is that I am Polynesian because of the culture that runs through my veins, because of the history that runs through my family tree, and because of the experiences I’ve had growing up. Being outcaste by my own people because of who I am and how I act does not get to define my ethnicity. I’m proud of my cultures, I’m proud to defend myself when ignorant folks decide I am not enough. I’m proud of who I am and I am Polynesian. And whether you like it or not, I’m going to be Polynesian tomorrow, the next day, in the next month, next year, all the way until my life is done. And even then, I will protect the generations to come as my family’s aumakua. Don’t try and pull this ish with me anymore. Don’t.

Part 5 (Please Don’t)

It’s been a long while and I am so deeply sorry. As I’ve said before, I’ve been going through a lot but I am getting better. Thank you all for sticking with me and still sending me love and support and your kind words. It’s going to good use. Anyways I have finished part 5 of the series I’m writing, Please Don’t.
Part 6, maybe? What do y'all thinks?


P.S. iris by the goo goo dolls is played or should be played in this sTory. Play it when you see this 《》>

Love you all! Enjoy!
_____________________________________________

You turned him over.

“DEAN! OH MY GOD, NO!” You yelled. “PLEASE DON’T! NOT LIKE THIS!”

“DEAN!”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“y/n?” The voice seemed to echo. Everything seemed to be unreal.
This had to be some kind of sick fucking joke.
Right?

“y/n.” You checked back into reality with the voice so close.
“Sammy.” He looked at you with his red swollen eyes.
“Hey, um. Cas and I are going take his body to the woods. Gonna give him the hunters funeral.”
You stared at him. No reaction. No voice. Nothing. It was all a haze.
“Sweetheart?” Sam whispered trying not to scare you. You blinked snapping back into the conversation.
“No.” He heard you speak but confused with your answer. “I don’t -” “I’m not gonna let you burn his body.” Your voice stern.
“Y/N, we can’t…I mean there’s nothin-” you interuppted him again. “I won’t let you, Sammy.”
It stayed quite.

“I-I can’t do that to him. He’s-he’s still my everything. I-”
“Y/N, he’s gone and I-”

“NO HE’S NOT!” Yelled standing up making Sam flinch.
“He can’t be gone! Don’t you get it, Sam. He-he has to be here. With me. He can’t do this to m-me.” Your anger was replaced with tears and heavy sobs.
“I’m so sorry.” He grabbed you and pulled you closer to his body. His warmth seemed to make all this more real. Only hurting you more. The reality of it all was too much and your breathing became heavy.
“Hey, hey! Y/N. Breathe with me. It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay. I’m right here.” Sam slowly started to calm you down.
As your breathing returned to its normal state, you both began to sit in silence and let the pain set in.

“I miss him, Sam. I-” you paused to catch your sobs.
He turned to look at you with his watery eyes. The pain of losing his brother, his family. Was already to much and then to have you, his best friend, in pain over losing someone who loved his brother. This was too much.

“I can’t lose him like this. I’ve already lost so much but I-I can’t lose him. Not him. Not Dean.” Your tears fell from the rim of your eyes to the red stained cheeks. He pulled you close to him as you both sat on the bed you shared with Dean.

“You know when Dean and I first meet you. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you. Especially your smile.” Sam smiled through his tears.
You smiled too. Even if it hurt to do so.
“He thought I never saw the way he looked at you, but I did. It was crazy how much he loved you. He was falling for you. And fast.” You both chuckled.
“When you weren’t looking, is when he loved to look at you most. You didn’t even notice it did you?” He questioned laughing.
“Honestly, no.” You laughed back with him.

“When you weren’t looking, he would stare at your lips. He would stare at the way you would lick them. He loved to look at your eyes. The way they seemed to hold stories beautiful ones holding hands with the bad ones. Or at least that’s what he told me.”
You both stayed quiet for a little while.

“You know he loved you, right?” He moved so that you could look at him.
“Yeah. I do.” You whispered.
“No, I mean like he LOVED you. Like more than anything. You took care of him and stayed by his side even at his lowest. He loved you because you loved his broke pieces and little by little you put him back together. Y/N, you saved him.” Your tears started falling again. But tears of joy. Something you hadn’t had in a long while.

●●●●●●●●flashback●●●●●●●●●

“Hey, sweetheart.” Dean said with a smile on his face. That damn stupid beautiful smile that made you melt every damn time.
“Hey, Dean. Where have you been. It’s late.” You smiled at him.
“I was out getting beer and some snacks. Thought maybe we could cuddle near the TV and watch that show you like so much.” He shrugged looking down as though he was…nervous.
You smiled, watching him scratch the back of his neck and see his cheeks turn bright pink.
“Yeah that sounds like fun.” He sighed in relief and look back at you chuckling as though that’s what he’d hoped you’d say.
“Okay great!” He said with excitement.

“I’ll get washed up and change into somethin a bit more comfortable. Alright?” He asks shyly.
“Yeah. Alright I’ll do the same thing.” You smile at him and nod. He nods back and walks out of the room.

Dean and you had somethin for each other for a while. Things between you both seemed to make sense and everything, even through the roughest of times, fell into place.
You loved him. But,of course, he didn’t know that.
To him you had a little crush on him but that didn’t exactly help with the fact that he loved you. You didn’t know that either.

You got into something comfortable. A t- shirt and some black pajama pants then went back to your room and cleaned it for the both of you to sit and watch the show.

Knock knock

“Cool if I come in?” Dean asked outside the door.
“Sure. I’m just cleaning up.” You said.

He entered with a 6 pack and a box of pizza along with a bunch of other snacks that he knew you loved.
“This cool?” He raised the food in his hands.
“Hell yeah it is! You’re so sweet to me, Dean.” You said sarcastically and laughing.
“You have no idea.” He smirked and looked into your eyes.

You both stood there just looking at the others lips and then back to their eyes.

You cleared you throat, “you can just set it over there on the night stand and make yourself comfortable. Okay?” You said quietly still not taking your eyes off him.
He blinked, coming back to reality.

“Okay, yeah. I can do that.” He spoke lowly.

You both sat on your bed with only inches of space between your bodies.
Laughing and talking as the show just played in the background.

“And I was like, ‘Sammy, could you be anymore gay?’” Dean said laughing.

“Oh my god! Stop. Stop! I can’t stop laughing.” You said to him with your hand you on his chest and the other hand trying to cover your mouth to hold back the loudness of your laughing.

All of a sudden he pulled your hand anyway from your mouth.

You look up at him in confusion.
“Don’t do that, y/n.” He said softy.

“What?” You asked. Not sure what he was saying or what he did that for.

“Don’t hide your laugh, sweetheart.” His voice seemed to get a little deeper.
“I-I didn’t mean-” you tried to talk but before you could finish what you were going to say he placed his lips on yours.

He slowly pulled away and with both your eyes fluttering open.

He looked into your eyes and then back to your lips.
“Don’t hide your laugh. It’s beautiful.” He said quietly.

The heat radiating off of both of you was incredibly intense. But it felt good. It felt right. Perfect even.

“Dean-” you couldn’t speak with the way your heart seemed to be beating faster than normally.
God, he beautiful. Being this close, you close feel the heat. Count every freckle that sprinkled across his face. The deep color of green in his eyes. The plump pink full lips that you’d just tasted. The smell of whiskey and leather.
You could get a better look at the man you’d been so deeply in love with.

But what took you back a bit was that kiss. He kissed you. HE kissed you. And in the split seconds that your lips had touch, every untold and spoken story about him was there. The kiss was like he had just told you everything he felt. Everything he was. Everything he wanted to be. Without words.
It was amazing.

“Y/N, please don’t hesitate to ever be yourself with me. Don’t hide who you are. You’re beautiful and I want to see you. All of you.” He placed his hand on your cheek and pulled you closer to him.
“Dean, I’m scared.” You spoke with tears dripping down your eyes.
You pick you face up a bit. Wanting you to look at him. To hear what he had to say.

“There’s nothing to be scared of, baby. I’m not y/ex/n. I would never hurt you.” His voice quivered.
“I-I lost so much, Dean. He took so much from me a-and I can’t hurt like that again.” You sobbed and he pulled you close to his body, holding you.

“I won’t ever hurt you because I-” he paused to scared to finish. Afraid it’ll ruin everything.

“You what?” You could feel your heart beating faster and faster.

‘Aw fuck it’

“Because I love you.” He spoke.

“And you know what? I want you to know that YOU are gorgeous. And I promise you that I won’t let you forget how beautiful you are. So that laugh you’re trying to hide. Sweetheart, please don’t do that. I wanna hear it.” His words spoke so sweet.

“Why?” You asked smiling, still in shock.
“Because every time you laugh I can see how happy you are. And it’s such a beautiful look on you. To see you smiling and laughing. To see you happy. I want to see you happy, baby. I want to be the one to make you smile.” He said.

You couldn’t help but smiled wide, not knowing what to say.

“See. Just like that.” He picked your chin up and placed his lips back on yours. This time only being the first of many.
Feeling beautiful was something he was good at making you feel. That made you smile most. HE made you happy.

●●●●●●●end of flashback ●●●●●●

“I think what scared him most about you. Was not ever getting to see you smile again. To hear your laugh.” Sam spoke.

You came back to reality which only made things hurt more. Made you see that Dean really was gone.

“Sam, can I be alone for awhile.” You asked with a trembling voice.

You couldn’t see that he was looking at you with a worried expression but he nodded and rubbed your back.
“Yeah. Course. I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” With that he got up, leaned down and kissed your head. Walking out the door and closing it.

Now it was just you with your thoughts. Great.

‘He’s gone and this time it’s forever. Stop, just please stop. Why because you don’t want to hear the truth? No, it’s just- . He’s probably better off dead than with you anyways, y/n. Stop it! No! I want you to listen to me and listen closely. Dean’s gone and he’s never coming back. But it’s okay because he was probably getting sick and tired of you. You are a waste-.’

“STOP!” you yelled.
Taking a deep breathe you wiped the tears that had fallen
Looking at the room only made you miss him more. The smell of him still stained the sheets and the old black shirt with all his jackets and plaid, that you loved so damn much, still sitting in the opened closet. His ipod and headphones that lied on the night stand.

You looked at the ipod for awhile and then stood up and grabbed it.
Putting the headphones over your head and set them comfortably over your ears.

You could feel him. That’s fantantic, another thing that’ll drive you nuts.

You pressed play and listened to the last song that he was listening to.

《And I’d give up forever to touch you
‘Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be
And I don’t wanna go home right now》

You closed your eyes and let the lyrics flow.
Only feeling as though the words related to the love he had for you.

《And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
When sooner or later it’s over
I just don’t wanna miss you tonight》

《And I don’t want the world to see me
‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand
When everything’s made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am》

《And you can’t fight the tears that ain’t coming
Or the moment of truth in your lies
When everything feels like the movies
Yeah, you bleed just to know you’re alive》

《And I don’t want the world to see me
'Cause I don’t think that they’d understand
When everything’s made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am》

God, you missed him. All of him.
The way he seemed to genuinely care about you.
The way he looked at you intensely and focused on your heart beat.
The was he said your name.
The way his scent was familiar.
The way he laughed.
The way he fought for the loves he loved.
The way he that smile made his eye crinkle.
The way he made you feel beautiful in every way possible.
The way he loved you even if he already knew about how hurt and broken you’d been.

《And I don’t want the world to see me
'Cause I don’t think that they’d understand
When everything’s made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am》

It felt as though the song was meant for you to hear. From him. Like a message. A note.

《And I don’t want the world to see me
'Cause I don’t think that they’d understand
When everything’s made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am》

He tried to hide his pain. He tired to hide behind the guilt and hurt. He wanted to be brave for everyone.
And even if he never knew it himself. He had faith. He was just scared to say it. He was hanging on whatever hope that was left in him.
And you. YOU saw him. The real him.

And you still loved him. That’s why he loved you. Because even though he was broken and damaged, you managed to slowly pick up the pieces and little by little you put him back together.

《I just want you to know who I am
I just want you to know who I am
I just want you to know who I am》

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

“Y/N, hey I’m gonna get us some food. You want anything? Sam said cautiously walking into your room.

“Y/N?” Still no answer.

You weren’t in there.

Sam started to panic. 'Where the hell could you have been? What were you doing? ’

Throwing stuff around the room and calling your cell. It was all seeming hopeless.
That’s when he found a note in the drawer of the night stand.

'Sam,

I’m going to find out how to get Dean back. I can’t do this life without him. I need him and he needs me. I’m sorry.

Love,
Y/N’

“Dammit, y/n.” Sam yelled.
How the hell was she going to bring him-

“What’s going on, Sammy?” A voice Sam never thought he’d he again.

“Sammy? Where’s y/n?” He said.

“Sam!” He yelled at Sam to get him to answer him.

“Dean?” Sam breathed out.

“Where is she?” Dean said weakly.

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celadonshapeshifter  asked:

Raven had to use her powers to heal Gar during a mission, to the point that afterwards, she felt dizzy and so when they get back to the tower, he just lets her lie down on her side, with her head in his lap, the back of her head resting against his stomach, and he just runs his fingers slowly through her hair and speaks softly to her, while she half-heartedly complains that he's making her blush? (I figure it'd be on the couch in the commons)

You must be new to drunken requests, but okay. I’ll try my hand at fluff while inebriated.

“You pushed yourself too hard, Rae.”

Gar’s voice held a tone of disapproval, the notes jarring her ears as he carried her half-awake body into the living room. She could feel his discourse, the sort of strange upset feeling he always got when she pushed herself too hard. Raven really never knew how to process that tone when she heard it, did it mean he was mad with her, or did it mean that he was trying to protect her? Her heart fluttered at the thought that he would protect her. She spent so much time protecting him and keeping him safe that it was easy to forget that maybe she needed to be protected too… protected by him.

But that was just a fleeting dream, and Raven needed to remember that.

Gar set her down on the sofa carefully, trying to arranger her body just right so that she wasn’t crumpled up in a strange heap. Her head rested softly in his lap, and he brushed at her dark, plum hair, trying to think of what he should say. Raven closed her eyes and her lips pulled back into a knowing smirk, practically feeling the war inside him. On one hand, he was grateful that she saved him. On the other hand, he was upset that she had pushed herself to this point. The point where she would willingly rest in his arms as he nursed her back to health.

“Rae… you really need to take better care of yourself…” Gar easily brushed the hair back from her neck and rubbed his fingers up and down her temple, almost as if he knew that she would be struggling with the pain from her spell. “You need to look out for you… I can take care of myself…”

“I… I know…” Raven’s voice skipped and she let go of a soft, almost pathetic sound. Her eyes fluttered and she leaned deeper into his warmth, letting his kindness drip over her like new, thick heat. She let go of another, soft whimper and her eyes flicked up to meet his own for a brief, fleeting moment. “I know, Gar… but… I… I need to protect you.”

His face blushed brightly and he glanced away, his hands still teasing her hair. “I can protect myself. It’s you I worry about, Rae. I care about you.”

She flushed brightly and without really realizing what she was doing, Raven buried her face into his thigh. A few moments passed as she took soft, careful breaths, trying to think of what she might possibly say to him after that. “G-gar… you’re making me blush.”

He just smiled. “Good.”

anonymous asked:

I have fic request kind of if that's alright? it's kinda specific oops. all other avengers are trapped but they didn't take Natasha in (she got away, they weren't aware that she was important enough to go out after) and clint can't stop laughing when he realises this and the others are like 'hi hello clint yes this is a life or death situation' and then boom bamf Natasha comes in yadda yadda they are saved. mayb some Natasha whump? ur fics are amazing & so r u, and I hope you are well x

THANK YOU and I LOVE IT here we go. :D

x+x+x+

“Where’s Nat?” Clint slurs immediately upon opening his eyes. It’s Stark instead of Natasha leaning over him. Stark’s lap his head is pillowed on, denim rough against the nape of his neck instead of smooth leather. Stark, cheeks pale and eyes shadowed with worry, instead of Natasha’s customary smirk and smartass comments.

He pushes himself up, or tries to, but Sam leans into his field of vision and puts a hand on his shoulder, guiding him slowly up to sit.

“Easy, man,” he says. At least, that’s what Clint thinks he says, because he can’t hear and his brain doesn’t grind into action quickly enough to lip read. Tony presses one of his hearing aides into his hand.

“Still working on the other one,” Tony says apologetically, once Clint’s got it turned on and fitted into place. The other half of the pair is in three pieces on the floor, surrounded by a set of the tiniest screwdrivers he’s ever seen.

“Where’s Natasha?” he asks again. Sam sighs and looks to Tony, who grimaces and looks a little sick. Panic kindles in his chest, beings to build to a crescendo. They always take Natasha first, interrogate her first, give her the first round of experimental drugs, because every villain seems to know the Black Widow’s history and thinks she’ll be easy to break. 

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anonymous asked:

i hope is not a trouble but do you have any HC where mo guan shan nurse He tian when he's sick? like maybe guan shan come to his apartement to return the jacket and he found out that he tian is sick

it’s no trouble at all, anon, don’t worry!! okay, so, i wrote some general sick headcanons here, but they are pretty old, and this was such a nice idea that i ended up writing a sort of huge scenario for it (because i love my kids and i can never shut up [fingers guns]). so, um, yeah, i hope you enjoy this even if it’s a bit of a mess!! im going to put a read more somewhere because it’s really……long………….. (is anyone even surprised anymore at this point)

  • okay, so, guan shan wakes up the day after the mess with she li still wearing he tian’s jacket and he feels confused and embarrassed and doesn’t know what to think
  • he puts the jacket in his bag, determined to give it back one way or the other, but when he arrives at school he tian is nowhere to be seen
  • he even goes outside his classroom and asks for him, but his classmates (the few who deigned to answer him) tell him he hasn’t showed up that day, and then the talks about the fight with she li start, and everyone speculates about he tian’s absence having something to do with it
  • guan shan tries not to listen to them and asks jian yi and zheng xi if they know something about he tian, but they both tell him that they’ve last saw him the day before when they left his apartment, and he seemed fine back then
  • and guan shan is not worried, he isn’t, but he knows what she li is capable of, and even if he tian said that everything was settled and showed that he can take care of himself, there’s still something dark and heavy churning his stomach, tightening it into anxious knots, something that feels a lot like fear
  • he tries to shake off that sense of dread for the rest of the day, but he can’t help feeling restless, and as soon as school ends he finds himself in front of he tian’s apartment building before he even realises it
  • he spends a good long while just staring at he tian’s buzzer not knowing what to do, debating with himself whether to ring it or not: he feels stupid at being there, at thinking that something must have happened just because he tian skipped school for a day, he wants to leave and forget about ever being so foolish, but……
  • when guan shan rings the bell, he blames it on owing he tian a debt for what he did for him the day before (even if he tian didn’t ask anything back for it, even if he implied he would help him again in the future if guan shan needed it…….it’s easier that way rather than trying to understand why he might care, and if it turns out everything is fine, he can just use wanting to give he tian back his jacket as an excuse and then leave like nothing ever happened)

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