dude she told you she wants you what's your motherfucking problem

Ketch Her If You Can

Title:  Ketch Her If You Can

Summary:  Dean’s not happy when Ketch and the reader start flirting. Ketch seems interested in her, until the truth comes out, then he shows his true colors.

Author:  Dean’s Dirty Little Secret

Characters:  Dean Winchester, Female Reader, Arthur Ketch, Sam Winchester

Word Count:  1795

Warnings:  canon typical violence

Author’s Notes: This was written for @supernatural-jackles Birthday Challenge. My prompt was the gif below. I decided to go a different route and not write demon!Dean. Also, this is smut free. Go figure.

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Livin’ Easy, Lovin’ Free

Since I wanna write about Tony being a fuckin nerd with a robot tie I’M DOIN’ IT and virtually none of u can stop me bc i love my idea (pt. 1??) 

Steve Rogers was in a band. No one thought he would be in one because he was an art student in high school who was so asthmatic that he couldn’t even fast-walk without an inhaler at his side. And then in college he got big. Like, football big. But the man still had two left feet when it came to sports, so he was regretfully passed on. 

It started when Bucky accidentally forgot to unlock him out of the dorm room and left for a two-hours-away concert with Clint. Steve had already sent him a text, and Sam would retrieve him in the morning. Maybe. But Steve had nothing to do besides read his textbooks (not likely), watch TV (he had just marathoned an auction show, so no) or learn something. He chose guitar. 

He has to google it. He starts practicing. He likes it, even if the strings make his hands all rough. It’s rhythm. He just plays all night. Learns a couple of chords. 

Steve starts getting pretty good. 

He joins a band. It’s Bucky, Clint, and Sam. They’re called the Howling Commandos after Steve’s grandfather’s troop in World War II. “That’s bitchin’,” Clint comments. “We have to do that.” The group mutually agrees on it, and so it becomes. 

It’s supposed to be a local college thing. They perform stuff from Led Zeppelin and AC/DC and all the classic rock stuff, occasional softie being thrown in there. Bucky’s voice is made for raspy singing and hard rock, something Steve can’t do. He cannot sing for shit. Like, at all. He can hum. But he can work the guitar. Bucky just jokes and says “yeah, he’s got artist hands.” Which is true. He does. His fingers are nimble and Steve can shred like nobody’s business. 

They blow up after Sam, new member and all around Best Guy, releases a snippet on his Twitter to promote the band going to the pub. Way more people show up. “If you’re going to advertise, get a bigger bar,” Hill snipes as she wipes off spilled tequila. “Tequila’s coming out of your payment.” 

“Better drink some then,” Clint says. 

The Howling Commandos start performing at other venues. A record label picks them up. They’re the warm-up band for a bigger one. And it goes from there. 

They become a household name overnight. People ask you who your favorite is, if you’re going to the concert. Steve doesn’t want to be stereotyped as the Apple Pie Lifestyle Dude. While he doesn’t mind it, he gets a feeling that’s what he’s gonna get all his life. So he mixes it up. Comes out on stage with eyeliner around his eyes, making already icy eyes explode. He wears his beat-up leather jacket and works on not smiling like Mr. Rogers. Bucky thinks it’s an improvement. 

“Damn you look different,” Bucky says with a grin. “Like you’re actually gonna win a fight.” 

“Aw, shaddup.” 

Natasha Romanoff is not invincible when it comes to music she likes. She forced Tony to listen to classical music for a week straight because she was so moved by Tchaikovsky one day. She likes music. The Howling Commandos caught her eye because they’re right up her alley: classic rock without coming off as an asshole. Plus, it helps that both Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers have launched themselves into the audience to stop a pervert or to help someone who is having difficulty. They’re nice people. Natasha finds it adorably disgusting. (And if she has a thing for Barnes, then that’s her business.) 

She knows Clint Barton. They went to high school together and kept in contact. She was one of the only classmates to think that he was worth something and that he wasn’t gonna end up as a hobo somewhere. 

He got her in for free, front row. With a friend. So she chose Tony, naturally. If she brought anyone else, she wouldn’t have as much fun. 

Of course, Tony comes as he is. “Hi!” He says brightly. They’re taking his flashy Maserati so they know that Natasha means business. (Also so she can look famous and badass while walking out of the car with her held-together-with-safety-pins shirt and her ripped jeans and scuffed boots. It’s thirteen year old her’s dream.) 

Tony did not change into his Prescribed Hot Clothes. No, he’s still wearing his stupid “I’m Not Just a Businessman, I’m a Cool Businessman” attire, which meant he looked like a goofy teacher with a button-down and his robot tie. 

“I’m gonna die of embarrassment,” Natasha says. “Where’s your AC/DC shirt?” 

“In the wash,” Tony says with a shrug. “Rock isn’t about your outfit, it’s about your attitude.” Natasha snorts as she gets in the car. 

“You’re such a dork.” Tony smiles. She plugs in the aux cord. He calls one song groovy and starts humming along to one she was playing earlier. 

“I like this one.” 

“It’s called Falling Off a Jet. I like it.”* Natasha is more nervous than she looks. She makes sure that she has her ticket and Tony’s in her purse more than once. They get in no problem. Tony smiles at the security guard. They get front seats with fancy drinks and food that Tony pays for. 

The intro band is good. Natasha thinks they have potential. Tony keeps saying he likes one of the member’s neon pink shoes ironically. He dabs once. “I cannot believe I’m your friend,” Natasha groans. 

“I’m in with the kids,” Tony says. “I’m a Cool Engineer. Peter told me so.” 

“Peter would kill the president for you, his opinion means nothing.” 

The band comes on. Natasha has to admit that Bucky Barnes’ Murder Strut makes her feel some type of way. 

Tony…he’s in awe. Because here’s this blondie with icy eyes and a leather jacket, guitar slung across his body. He’s grinning as he looks out at the crowd. 

“Nat, which one is that? Is that Clint?” 

“No, Clint’s the one who just tripped,” Natasha says. “That’s Steve Rogers. He plays guitar. He’s scarily good at it.” Tony files the information away for later use. 

Steve Rogers doesn’t notice Tony Stark at first. It’s only when he bends down to get the bottle of water that he hears someone laugh and it’s loud and sincere and he looks over and…

There’s a cute guy. He’s in a button-down and a tie with something on it. Steve kind of wants to see what’s on it. He moves a bit closer. He thinks they’re robots. Interesting. 

The concert goes off without a hitch. Sharon’s interns have the lights downpat and Clint doesn’t trip again. Sam gets to sing quite a few songs, making some ladies and men scream as his mellow voice fills the stage. He keeps his eye on Cute Tie Dude. 

After the concert, Clint tells them that some friends are dropping in to say hi and meet them. 

It’s Cute Tie Dude! 

Oh no. 

Steve looks like shit. His eyes look like a raccoon’s, he’s drenched in sweat, and is currently in a shirt that is advertising some stupid tourist attraction that Clint swears he saw a ghost at. 

“This is Natasha Romanoff and Tony Stark,” Clint says. Natasha’s stare lingers a bit longer on Bucky. Steve already knows that’s gonna go well. Tony steps up. 

“I uh, liked the guitar,” he says. “Oh no, I’m sure everyone says that…” 

“It’s fine,” Steve offers. “Uh, thank you. That means a lot to me.” Clint and Sam snort. 

“Loverboy,” Sam mouths at Steve. 

“Asshole,” Steve mouths right back. “So…Stark. Happen to be affiliated with Stark Enterprises?” 

“That’s my company,” Tony says. “That’s why I wore the robot tie today. I was giving tours to some schools.” Goddammit he’s too cute abort mission Steve

“That’s so cool,” Steve says. “How were the tours?” 

And this is how Tony eventually tunes Steve’s guitar to just the write notes and fixes Sharon’s wonky light (”I think I’m in love with you,” Sharon says seriously to him, and he blushes he motherfucking blushes) and also blushes whenever Steve compliments him. 

“I had a great time talking to you,” Steve says. “You’re…great. Awesome.” Tony’s face turns red. He looks adorable. 

“Well thank you,” he says, smiling. “You weren’t too bad yourself, Rogers. You have to tell me the story of how the band formed sometime, yeah?” Steve nods. 

“Here’s my number,” He says, holding out his phone. “I…I’d like to talk to you some more, if you wouldn’t mind terribly.” 

They’re such fucking dorks. They send each other dog memes and Tony calls him to tell him that he bought another vintage painting of flowers because “it reminded me of you Steven, don’t you dare scold me” and Steve sends him presents from wherever they perform with a handwritten card and Tony sends him flowers and postcards. 

“You guys are such dorks,” Natasha says one night when they’re finally watching a movie together. 

Steve smiles down at Tony. 

They kind of are. 

The Raven King, Chapter 3 – Andrew Does Shit No One Expects Him To, Pt. 1

In which we prepare for more Serious Orange Sportsball Business, the picture-perfect princess quote happens, Andrew develops new levels of Interesting™, Kevin is a Grade A jealous boyfriend, and have I mentioned I love Wymack enough recently?

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Raven King.

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anonymous asked:

yes hi hello i'm here for the ballet stories and i was wondering if you've already told the nutcracker, and if there's any that you haven't been asked but you really want to tell, also thank you very much you are very awesome and i hope you have a great day

so just in time for CHRISTMAS i have the nutcracker here for y’all. bundle yourselves in some be-fucking-dazzled ugly sweaters and get hella candy canes because we are strapping in on santa’s motherfucking sleigh for a BUMPY FUCKING RIDE UNLESS WE AVOID RUNNING OVER GRANDMA WITH THE REINDEER WHICH SHOULD PROBABLY BE OUR GOAL


*opens yuletide book* *ahem* let’s rock around this christmas motherfucker

so our story has many incarnations but the one we gone do follows this eensy little lady clara

ignore the nutcracker in her hands. she doesn’t have it yet. clara is sometimes called marie and sometimes she’s like an adult but i don’t fucking like that so we are gonna go with the version where she’s like twelve aight? bear with me, okay?

so clara has the perfect white bread very lovely happy white picket fence german family. they have a mommy and a daddy and a clara and a bratty little brother named fritz. the stahlbaums are very rich and have money to blow so they decide to throw this big ass rave to celebrate THE BEST HOLIDAY. just kidding. it is not a rave or a house party or anything mildly cool, it is just a christmas party with a bunch of the adult cousins and friends and their kids. basically the kinda shit you’d try to be slightly drunk for so you can avoid awkward questions about “what are you doing with your life now?”

since they are children, clara and fritz don’t have to worry about it. their only problem is distant relatives with obvious favoritism issues. 

BOOM enter clara’s godfather, Herr Drosselmeyer. he makes a big entrance where sometimes he does magic tricks and seems mysterious and vaguely creepy, but hey, that’s how people who are only slightly connected to the family who you must include or suffer the withering eye of your mother around the holidays are.

drosselmeyer is some sort of magician-y dude. he obviously has to impress this big party full of children and adults, so he does what any cool uncle type figure would do- some mildly impressive magic tricks. card guessing and endless strings of handkerchiefs are NOT ENOUGH for this sorcerous motherfucker, he’s gotta pull out the big guns. so what does this asshat do? HE BRINGS OUT BIGASS BOXES. the boxes have actual life sized fucking DOLLS in there. like dolls the size of fucking people. hella amazing. he bewitches them, like one does as a magician, and they actually dance for this party full of kids. so much for keeping one’s powers on the DL.

if he hasn’t proved himself the coolest fucking godfather yet, this douchecanoe has got PRESENTS. because clara is obviously his fave- and she is the one who is his godchild, fritz is just some random notgodchild- she gets a GOOD PRESENT. because drossel obviously knows how to shop for a goddamn twelve year old girl, he has gotten her a wooden nutcracker doll. you know. like how you crack nuts. 

and clara, because she is not attuned the the JOYS OF A CONSUMERISM loves this gift. so much that fritz, because nobody cares about him, and he has just gotten a walnut is super pissed. he chases clara around the party, steals the nutcracker, and smashes that wooden balls-destroyer on the ground.

like any good godfather, drossel has a miniature nutcracker doctoring kit in the pocket of his cape. he wraps that timber bollocks breaker up in a sling because being the victorian era, glue is not available OH WAIT ADHESIVES HAVE FUCKING BEEN IN USE FOR CENTURIES SO UNLIKE A GOOD BOY SCOUT HE WAS FUCKING NOT PREPARED. the guests jingle back into the fucking winter wonderland because this party has gotten ho-ho-horribly awkward and they want to have candy-cane cocktails in the privacy of their own homes. the family eventually goes to bed in preparation for CHRISTMAS MERRIMENT 🎅🎄🎁🌟.

because clara is very excited about christmas, she sneaks out to play with her nutcracker. much like any child trying to stay up late she is knocked the fuck out in about five minutes. this is where the fun happens. by some sinister magic- sometimes actually by drossel putting on a spell- clara is attacked by HUGE MOTHERFUCKING RAAAAAATS in her sleep.

she wakes up completely scared shitless as one would if they woke up to lifesized damn vermin surrounding you and has no idea what the fuck to do, still clutching this freaking glorified bottler opener like her life depends on it. 

WHICH it turns out, it does. drossel using his freaky deaky quasi wizardry powers turns the nutcracker into a life sized version which comes out and kicks some rodent ass. sometimes, everything shrinks and sometimes the tree grows and basically lots of magic shit. he fights the rat king and when it seems like he is about to lose, clara, in a move of pure subterfuge and military strategy, throws her gotdamn shoe at the rat’s head. despite this maybe not being the exact thing that we want to implicate into our military (but then we could spend fucking less on fucking defense spending) it works. big ass rodent daddy is distracted and then stabbed like the rat’s assed vermin he is by our wooden hero.

(this seems like a dance of lurve to me someone pls write some fanfiction)

by some more magic, the nutcracker is turned into a human. sometimes he’s just a magical prince, which is fucking uncomfortable- “here twelve year old goddaughter, sit with this random prince in a sleigh all night nothing weird about that”- or drossel’s nephew or some shit. they are whisked through a snow storm. because in ballet we really like to personify inanimate objects, these are actually beautiful lady snowflakes who dance through the cold and the suffering so that clara can pass safely to the land of the sweets, even though she is not wearing a fucking coat.

ENTRE ACT 2. we are led into the land of the sweets, which is as sickeningly diabetes-causingly sugary as it sounds. clara the sweet precious fucking fresh princess QUEEN of the land- the sugar plum fairy. 

sugar mama asks clara what the hickle heckle she’s doing there. lil mini badass bitch explains, and big sugar badass bitch is so happy that she decides to throw a party. luckily this is not one of those wild “drink all night, hook up with a stranger, make some life long memories and regrets” kind of party GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER CHAD BECAUSE CLARA IS LIKE TWELVE it is instead a sit for an hour and watch us dance kind of party

this is where things get a leetle bit dicey. sugar bitch fairy has got sweets from all over the world in her court just sitting around waiting to dance because they aint need jobs to support a candy economy. eighteenth century ballet choreographers took this “represent world cultures” thing to mean “let’s take the most exaggerated steroetypes of other countries and run with them.” unfortunately the idea of not being fucking racist cockwagons wasn’t a thing back then. and unfortunately we still do this and let our vague racism run rampant HAPPY HOLIDAYS FUCKERS

we get to see all sorts of things tho, from french marzipan ladies to the horrendous amalgamation of ~aRaBiAn~ stereotypes to represent the delicious elixir of coffee, to once again inanimate object represented by hot bitches in the dew drop fairy with her congress of flower hotties. it is all a jolly good time. they dance, we party, there’s arguably fuck-up-your-insulin-levels sugar going on, clara sits a lot, things happen. 

then clara is all partied out (fucking weak) and drossel sends her home in a magical carriage, her nutcracker restored to a weird utilitarian toy once again instead of a random ass prince, and her wondering if this was all a fucking dream.

*closes story book* *turns off blinking “it’s christmas bitch” sweater* and that is the story of the nutcracker

anonymous asked:

If your still taking fic requests how about an angsty Ryan who can't understand friendship well and really flubs it up by getting frustrated and mad at everyone. He was really trying to make friends with them as well. (BTW your writing is absolutely fantastic!)

Oh my gosh, thank you! You’re too kind. And I am always willing to do prompts for you, and this one is gonna be a doozy, but I love it:

Before Geoff Ramsey and his merry band of misfits came long, Ryan hadn’t interacted with a lot of people outside of his freelancing jobs. At the time, he hadn’t wanted to make friends with any of these people. He didn’t see much point putting any energy into socializing with anyone because he did not intend to actually see them again.

When Geoff hired him the first time, Ryan went into the job with his same old attitude and skull mask to boot. He didn’t even bother learning anyone’s name outside of Ramsey’s just in case they tried talking to him. This was going to be a one time deal because he had no intention of doing any more jobs for Geoff.

But Geoff hired him again a few weeks later, and he kept hiring him over and over until finally he offered Ryan a full time position in his crew. Something that Ryan hadn’t expected, nor did he particularly want, but his life had thrown him a few curve balls and this was just another one, so instead of outright saying no, he asked Geoff if he could think about it.

It takes him a week to finally give Geoff an answer and another three days before he actually steps foot into Geoff’s penthouse. The entire crew is waiting for him, scattered around the living room like cats, and Ryan has to fight the urge to turn around and go right back home.

“I see you found the place okay,” Geoff comments pushing away from the breakfast bar and crossing the room to stand next to Ryan. He points at the skull mask covering Ryan’s face and says, “You don’t have to wear that here. We won’t tell anyone what you look like.”

Ryan grunts but leaves his mask on, and Geoff nods. “Alright, I got the message.” He turns to his crew, clasping his hands in front of him, and smiles. “So, I’m sure you all remember Ryan.”

The others stare back him for a long moment before a woman steps forward, a kind smile on her face. She extends her hand and says, “Hi, Ryan, I’m Jack.”

Ryan glances down at her hand but does not take it, and Jack’s smile falls a little. She lowers her hand, clearing her throat. “Uh, welcome to the crew.”

“Don’t worry, buddy,” Geoff starts, clapping Ryan on the shoulder, ignoring his frustrated huff, grinning, “you’ll fit in great.”

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Chapter 4: Not everyone gets what they want


Shit was popping off on the corners. Niggas was getting caught being reckless and some Gangs was losing money. I needed to ensure that I stayed on top and that my money came consistently.

I pulled up to the tattoo parlor to meet up with Paul Beckon. He was the Chiefs of police in L.A. The reason I chose him was because police was heavy in L.A, and I needed to form a straight alliance. I just needed to make a deal with him. Just one deal. I knew this nigga could run the plan throughout Cali, he had mad connections. I just needed to be in his circle.

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anonymous asked:

Hey! I have a question. You mention in your intro post that you're disabled and neurodivergent. If you feel comfortable, can you talk a little about your experiences in the Army wrt those aspects? Were you disabled before your svc? Because of? Thx!!

Hi there! The military is not a great place to be physically or mentally disabled I’m afraid.

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A post where everything is about Zack - part 1


  • What the heck is Cloud’s personality pre Nibelheim incident
  • The most important thing Zack does for Cloud (wasn’t dying)
  • Why everyone should start tagging all their Cloud posts with nothing but “BAMF”

First a short foreword :

Well this turned out to be waaaay longer than I intended… So I decided to post this in parts (which I’m not super happy about, but otherwise I’ll never finish it just cause I’m too tired of having to scroll so much to where I left of everytime..and I kinda felt sorry for the mobile readers haha)

And I guess I’ll begin by saying that of course this is just my take on things, so obviously not everyone will agree with my 100% totally canon SE stamp approved interpretations (really I send em a link and they said “sugoi” which is “cool” in japanese fyi ) and that’s ok, cause fortunately none of us has to be wrong for the other to be right. But again any additional input or fact correction (since I obviously can’t remember everything) is always welcome. (specially regarding to the timeline cuz it’s a mess) I just kinda wish people will wait until I post the entire thing..

Note that I will be ignoring other characters just because this is a post about Zack, and not because I don’t realize the influence they all had on Cloud. 

Also I’ll just briefly mention that I only rely on the original materials and good ol’ common sense for all my character analysis, just cause I feel like it can take you way further than relaying on ultimanias and things that are not considered part of canon. (because let’s face it, sometimes they are full of BS and with all the retcons tend to change alot) 

Also i’ll say that alot of this is actually based on my personal experiences as a soldier, being surrounded by soldiers, and having to deal with soldiers who lost friends in battle, so there’s probably a shit ton of projection there.. I’m obsessing over Zack Fair for a reason.. (and it’s not only cause he’s so damn fine, althought it is a very big part of it)

Also I will probably be adding and editing stuff in these posts.

So yeah about Zack

Now I know the people who will most likely read these walls of text are people who are already big fans of Zack. But I kinda feel like I’m writing this for the people who have complains about his character or Cloud’s character or any of the compilations..

Because without a doubt the saddest thing about Zack fair (well besides his death I mean), is that Square Snix never had enough space for him in the original releases and always ended up editing him in YEARS later. (Also pretty funny I guess, since when production is concerned, starting from his conception, Zack is always the character that just kinda shows up late with Starbucks like “Hey what did I miss?” and then proceeds to complete the picture.)

So with that and with FFVII’s story (and I’m talking the entire CC, BC, OG and AC/C combo) not being released in a chronological order for over a decade while continuously being retconned. I think sometimes it can be easy to miss how over the years it basically turned out to be the story of Zack (unless you’re pretty perceptive, have a good memory, or actually played and watched everything in a chronological order after AC/C was released, which I assume not many people ever did?)

Anyway this black haired sonic looking dude we saw for a few short moments in 1997 plays as important role in FFVII’s story as Cloud or Aerith (yes, in the OG aswell, yes from 1997, and no, not only because he died protecting Cloud). And some (me) would say maybe even the most important. But it’s kinda been just one big mess and that’s why Zack’s role so easily gets lost in it. Specially to the older fans, who I so often feel like still can’t get quite used to him becoming such an important character or can’t understand why the hell he is so important or even think he ruins everything (*gasp* how dare?). 

Infact I believe alot (not all, but alot) of people’s complains about the OG or it’s compilations (excluding DC) is the result of failing to understand Zack’s part. (Which is a super easy thing to do because you just have to skip CC to not understand soooo many things about the OG or AC/C.) And because it always breaks my heart a little whenever people leave Zack out or don’t give him the credit he deserves, I really wanted to make this long overview to maybe shed some light on things and try to sort out all the mess SE made a little.

Actually before AC/C came out I guess I couldn’t really make this post. But I think it’s safe to say that SE has been using Zack to tie alot of the lose ends in FFVII’s story for awhile now and it’s probably going to stay that way. I really don’t think anyone in SE expected Zack to turn out to be this important either.. He’s really one of those characters that just seem to have a life of their own, popping into your mind out of nowhere and proceeding to take over the story. Atleast that’s the feeling I’m getting from his character. (Hope its all gonna be more clear in the remake. And they don’t cut out Zack’s part again just to add it 10 years later.. seriously stop doing that!)

And ofcourse if we’re gonna talk about Zack, we’re actually going to talk about Cloud (and later other characters). Because Zack is dead and he didn’t really do much in his short life besides failing basically everything (or did he?).

Now since romantic relationships for some reason are always exalted and considered more significant than others, usually when it comes to Cloud, everything always seems to be about Tifa or Aerith. And Ofcourse I’m not saying that other people don’t have their very respectable places in Cloud’s heart, after all it’s not even a thing of competition, he cares deeply about everyone around him. But.. if you wanna get real, then for Cloud it’s probably always gonna be: Zack > everyone else. This is obviously not news to many. But if it is please stick around.

And before the angry Cloti and Clerith shippers light up their torches and the Clack shippers get too excited. This is not a shipping post! I feel like I can argue for or against any ship, but imo adding any romantic feelings to Zack’s and Cloud’s relationship will only water it down. Because it’s so much more than that. (Although I promise you clackers, Zack won’t disappoint you. If I wasn’t so sure he’s head over heels for Aerith I’d be wondering what the hell he’s trying to do myself haha)

Anyway this is an in depth analysis of Cloud and his relationship with Zack (from Cloud’s POV)  

And I guess we’ll begin with going through the obvious first, and then maybe the not so obvious in further posts.

So.. the obvious:

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Magic AU

okay so guys idk where I’m going with this so I’m just gonna wing it until my ideas become solid lets do this

Let’s start with Shitty (bc I actually know what to do with him). He’s a literal empath, can feel what others are feeling. usually it’s limited to emotional feelings, but Shitty can literally feel everything, including stuff as innocuous as clothing on other people. it’s not a big deal bc he can sorta tune it out but the if he focuses his power, he can get overstimulated very fast and it’s a shit show. Hence why clothes are usually a no-go, because he might be the only perfect lie detecter, but he doesn’t also want to feel your headache or that you have a major wedgie AND feel his own fabric prison at the same time. not cool, brah. 

Jack is fairly stereotypical and has ice powers because they still play hockey in this au (they just attend a college that is super chill abt magical ppl and so it’s like the gay thing. 1 in 4, maybe more?? spoilers; definitely more.) and is the son of Bad Bob, Superpowered Sportsman Extraordinaire. maybe Jack feels inadequate because his mom is a human, a perfectly normal human. Bad Bob says she’s superhumanly beautiful.wait shit this isn’t about them. but Jack, my sweet winter child, wants to carry his father’s legacy despite being a half-human (in hockey, a sport where everyone is OP af, he’s called a “mutt” a lot. it’s not fun for anyone.) Jack can freeze anything (so many Elsa jokes. Let It Go is banned from the haus for all eternity.) so if he feels the team needs an extra practice, he can just freeze the pond. (the night Parse visits, his room is frozen shut, along with the entire second floor. there’s frost on the ceiling.)

Bitty is hard to put my finger on. the entire team thinks he has no powers whatsoever at first because he never uses them; he just bakes and sings his beyonce and faints whenever someone gets near him on the ice. It’s really not a problem until they realize that Bitty has pretty much the most power out of all of them; he can just… leave his body? and that’s what happens on the ice. it’s astral projection to the hundredth degree. his body is still fine if he leaves it, but he can’t stay out too long; that time in seventh grade? when he was locked in a locker? he left his body and tried to find help, but the astral plane is more confusing with the magical energy and spirits everywhere, so he got lost. his body was about to go into a coma before he found it again, and he still ended up in the hospital. every time he feels a check, he goes ghost. Jack helps by shocking his body with a blast of cold so he can wake up. (what makes him so good on the ice is his ability to see where weak points in the other players’ energy are. spirit sight like no other.) he hangs with Mandy and Jenny occasionally. 

Lardo is a conduit who can be possessed by spirits to channel her art; even when not possessed she paints masterpieces because her Sight is almost as strong as Bitty’s and she paints them (always with their permission). One time, Bitty even possessed her and everyone in the haus was mystified when they came home and Bitty was taking a nap on the couch while Lardo baked a pie for them. Then she (they??) turned around and the team saw the glazed-over eyes and knew she was in a trance. They told Bitty to knock it off, even if Lardo gave consent. it’s a little freaky, okay?!!!?

Ransom and Holster, my dudes, are these big bros who bonded when they were frogs because they both have mind-reading powers. Dude, that’s so cool! That’s what I was gonna say! I know! Duuuuuuude! They’re so in-sync all the time because they practically live in each other’s brains. 

Nursey is a straight-up Druid. he communes with the earth, like, all the time. He learns to keep his chill because it’s hard to listen to what trees are saying when the worries of the world are clogging your mind. at least once a year, in spring, he literally plants himself in the backyard and becomes a tree for a day or three. it’s hard to tell time when you’re photosynthesizing. He’s a weird-looking anthropomorphic tree, but still hot. he has a face like the ones in Game of Thrones. when not being a tree, he can still grow plants in his hair and loves growing himself a flower crown. on the occasions he loses his temper, leaves burst at his temples. His tattoos aren’t tattoos, but flowers and vines and ridges of bark. 

Dex, because fate is cruel and loves irony, is a fucking leprechaun. or rather, his Irish heritage means that though they’re subtle, his powers are so goddamn stereotypical. He finds change on the ground, like, all the time. He’s the luckiest motherfucker you will ever meet. There is no prank war that he has ever lost (well, he can’t actually lose. he’s tried to lose, but through some really convoluted, impractical way, he will still win). he’s a fair mage and a pretty good alchemist. his ability to grow facial hair (a forest of red curls) is legendary. 

Chowder. My sweet boy, sunshine of my life, is a werewolf. Mostly a puppy dog, but the second he gets in the net, he… changes. (FTG, amirite???) like, grows fangs and some fur, growls at the opposing team, but not a full shift because usually games don’t fall on a full moon for that specific reason. Allergic to silver, but not because of the werewolf thing, surprisingly. His family just has really sensitive skin. Has to wear soooo much scent suppressant and shower at least once a day because he can make a whole room smell like wet dog if he doesn’t. it’s a sensitive subject, don’t mention it to him. Maybe ask about the Sharks instead? They have a D-man who’s a lycanthrope, just like him!! erase the stigma!

…I got carried away. I still have so many ideas. 

Hey are you planning on doing a part 3 for the demon Luke smut?? Like it’s actually so good

AN So guys, I’m not going to quit the Marianas Trench idea, I’m just stuck, so I’m going on to something else as I try to figure out what to do. It just so happens that it’s the part 3 Luke Demon Smut. Yay! Here’s part one and here’s part two. Also, if you suggest a part four, I actually have an idea with where I want this story to go, so that’d be cool.

Warning: demon smut

Luke’s POV

As I’ve told Y/N before, her thoughts are really fucking loud. You wouldn’t believe it, but I have to actually do paperwork down here. It is Hell, so it makes sense that I’d be doing something I absolutely hate. Keeping track of how many virgins I’ve fucked is hard work. I have to write down everything we ever did.

As the days went on from my little encounter with Y/N, my lists were getting shorter. I used to enjoy this job, but with Y/N thinking about me every second of the day, I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I’d find myself fantasizing about her while getting coffee or talking to the other incubi.

I can hear thoughts when they’re about me, especially coming from above. Usually the virgins I fuck think about me for a couple days, but what I do with them, corrupts them. That leaves them to become whores. Or just people who like sex. Which on my side of things is good.

Keep reading

"Imagine Sam and Dean finding out you're their little sister." One Shot (Part 2)

Author: carry-onmy-wayward-assbutt 
Original Imagine Link: 
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 1732

Read Part 1 Here

After class the guys picked you up like they said. Now, normally dressed, they waited in the front door until you came. “Ready to go?” Sam asked.

Keep reading

i can’t make you bleed if i’m alone

for @alliandoalice❤️❤️❤️

[ arms - Christina Perri ]


(i’m sorry i didn’t mention this, this is supposed to be a text conversation.)


‘You son of a bitch.’

‘What the fuck did I do?’

‘Don’t fuck with me, Jian Yi.’

‘It’s just so easy…’


‘No, I’m not fucking with you…I don’t think. I actually have no idea what you’re talking about.’


‘It would actually be really convenient if I was trying to hide something, however, i have no idea what you’re fucking talking about.’

‘Jesus fucking christ.’

‘OK. So we both know that we could go back and forth about this for an extraordinary amount of time, considering how great we are at arguing with each other. However, right now, I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, so please lay it out for me and then we can argue.’

‘Did you fuck her?’

‘Fuck who?’


‘No, I didn’t fuck her.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘You know what, I don’t give a fuck.’


‘I told you the truth, you don’t believe me. That’s not my problem.’


‘You asked me a fucking question. I gave you a fucking answer. You don’t believe me. I don’t give a fuck.’

‘What the fuck is your problem?’

‘My problem? My problem is you. I go with you anywhere you ask me to, I watch you flirt with the dozens of girls that just flock to you the second you walk into a room. I sit and watch that. I take a few shots or drink a few beers, and wait for you to come find me.’

‘You’re being dramatic.’

‘No, I’m not. Do you have any idea how many nights i’ve spent on someone’s porch, waiting for you. Hoping you’ll come out soon to smoke a cigarette or, on very rare occasions, just check in. Just let me know where you are, finding out where I am. Maybe that’s as good as I’m going to get.’

‘It’s not like that, I’m with you a lot during those things.’

‘You’re not. Don’t bother with that shit. You’re too busy being the center of attention to give a fuck where I am. I’ve made myself steer clear of you at that point, apparently, if I sadly watch you from the kitchen, people start to talk, and there I am. Surrounded by girls trying to comfort the sad, gay, kid.’


‘Don’t dude me, motherfucker. It’s got to be really convenient to be the center of attention with them, and then with me.’

‘With you?’

‘Yes. With me. You find me, I’m happy to see you, I’ve been waiting to see you.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I know you don’t. You’re so used to being my main focus, it shocks you when you see me, and I’m not already looking at you.’

‘That’s fucking ridiculous.’

‘Is it? Because, to the best of my knowledge, that’s the first time you’ve seen me talking to a girl at a party. It threw you off, clearly.’

‘That’s not what this is about.’

‘What is it about, Zhenxi?’

‘You just left the party without me…’

‘NO, ZHENXI. You left the party without me. You went to fuck some girl in someone’s bedroom without a look back.’

‘So you did fuck her?’

‘No, Zhengxi, I didn’t fuck her. If you’d been paying even the smallest amount of attention, you’d had recognized her. The cute little blonde? That’s Sun Jing’s girlfriend. You’ve met her. More than once.’

‘I didn’t recognize her.’


‘So, what? Do you still think I fucked her?’


‘You know what she and I did? We sat outside and drank. She told me about her relationship, how it started, how things were now.’

‘That’s it? That’s all you talked about?’

‘No, Zhan Zheng Xi, that’s not all. We also talked about you.’


‘Why? God, I wonder why, we talked about our friendship, about how we met, about how I follow you wherever you go… We talked about it until she went to get us drinks and saw you disappear with some fucking girl.’


‘And she gave me a ride home, pretending she believed me when I said I was ok, pretending she didn’t see me break down and cry on my doorstep. That was my night, and I don’t think I want to hear about yours.’

5sos Imagine: Long Way Home (Luke) Part Two

Some of the emails and skype from you and Luke when he’s deployed. Enjoy! <3

Part One

From <Luke Hemmings- Private hemmo96@army.goc> Sept. 25

Subject: New Email B)

Dear Y/N,

First of all, check this shit out. I have my own fucking army email. No more of my old lukeypengy69@gmail crap you had to deal with before.

My platoon does this thing where we all get our own nicknames based on our last names. The other new guys in my platoon goes “Red Dog” (Michael Clifford), “Robin” (Calum Hood), and “Win” (Ashton Irwin). I’m “Hemmo” because Hemmings sucks as a last name and we couldn’t think of anything better.

So far, training has been alright. Lots of weight stuff and running and things that bore the hell out me and will definitely bore you. So I’ll just move on.

We go into the warzone in about a month or so, because (don’t you dare worry) things are getting kinda rough over there. I can’t believe we’re already in the blue phase. I’m nervous, but I’ll be fine. Don’t you dare worry about me. Plus, I have some great guys in my platoon. Here’s me with my new friendzz….

The picture attached is of Luke, Michael, Ashton, and Calum all wearing their gear on their home base. They’re all holding their guns up in the air, cheering. Looking very “‘murican.”

The one with the crazy hair color is Red Dog, the short one is Win, and the one who looks like a puppy is Robin.

Nicknames are fun.

I hope everything is rad back home. I’m sorry your professor is an asshole. When I come back, I’ll pick you up in full gear and “accidentally” drop my gun ;)

And YES I’ve been emailing my mom. It sucks though, I can practically hear her crying through the internet. It’s a weird thing, being a pretty great American but a really shitty son.

I miss you a lot. I miss everyone back home, but I miss you the most. I have a picture of you I keep in my uniform at all times. All the boys are constantly making fun of me. But they are all, even our commanding officer, hovering over my shoulder and “ordering me” to tell you that they all think you’re “hot as hell” and “really beautiful.” I already know this, and I tell you this whenever I can, beautiful, but COME ON GUYS IT’S MY FUCKING GIRLFRIEND LEAVE ME BE.

Phew they’re gone.

Tell me all about your classes. I want every single detail. Are any guys in your classes hotter than I am? None of the guys on my base are hotter than you ;)

And I should be able to Skype tomorrow night at 8 my time, so… maybe like 5 or 6 your time? I’ll be here. Waiting for you. I haven’t seen your virtual face in like a week and I feel like collapsing.

We may be a bit too codependent.

But I don’t fucking care, I love you too much.




From <Y/N Y/L/N yourschoolemail@yourschoolname.edu> Sept. 26

Subject: (Re: New Email B) ) wow luke you’re so cool

Dear Hemmo,

You’re not the only one with a fancy, esoteric email. I’m a fucking student at my dream school. *raises roof*

Not that being in the army isn’t cool. It is, but you suck for abandoning me.

I’m kidding.


The nickname thing is actually really cool. And Hemmo isn’t the worst thing to nickname to ever happen to you. Remember third grade… beanpole.

You’re right, training sounds like it would bore me. I promise to listen to it when you get back, but I’m not going to read about it over an email. I love you, but not that much.

Wow, you guys look like the koolest kids in that photo. Please tell me those things weren’t loaded. We both know you’re the clumsiest thing in the universe. You’re going to shoot your eye out. So please don’t drop your gun when you pick me up from college haha.

Good, Liz said you’re keeping in touch, but she was also crying when she told me this. Don’t worry, I’m driving back home every weekend. Nothing’s imploded in your absence. Maybe there’s a tiny flood going on in the Hemmings House with all the tears, but Liz is really proud of you. So am I.

I miss you the mostest. Don’t even try to fight me on this.

And tell your platoon thank you?? I guess. Not sure how to respond to corresponded compliments through email. Tell them they’re attractive too.

But not as attractive as you. I’m going to put an end to your jealous streak as soon as I can. No one is attractive as you, especially not to me. So calm your tits. :)

And it’ll be around 6 my time, I think. I’ll make sure to be here, Lukey.

Who cares if we’re codependent? We love each other dammit. And you’re going off to war soon so I have every right to be clingy.

Sorry, my roommate Maddie is reading this over my shoulder and telling me we “have a problem.” So I’m telling her off.

Tell Maddie she can go to hell when you call on Skype. I’ll make sure she’s here too.

And college is very interesting and fun. I have lots of cool classes, all of which pertain to my goals in life. Which is both stressful because MY FUTURE IS IMMINENT and really fucking awesome. Don’t worry, all my other professors are amazing. It’s only Professor Doucheface who gets on my nerves. He calls me out constantly, and I didn’t do a fucking thing. Whatever.

But college would be more awesome with you there. But I hope everything is going great in the army. I’m really proud of you, dumbass.




Skype call from Luke Hemmings

Answered, Oct. 15.

“Hey babe!” Luke grins the instant he sees your face. Even though you’ve done this like four times since the first.

“Aww, your quiff is gone.” You pout.

“A ‘hi there, love of my life’ works just as well. Even better, some say.” Luke raises an eyebrow.

“But they shaved your head! The quiff you haven’t gotten rid of since you were 7 is gone!” You playfully lament.

“I didn’t have a fucking quiff when I was 7.”

“I know. I was there.” You roll your eyes. “I forgot to check, can you hear me?”

“I can hear you fine, babe. You can hear me, I’m guessing?” You nod. “Wow, I didn’t expect the base to have such great wifi.”

“No other people in your platoon needing to Skype their girlfriends/boyfriends/loved ones/etc?” You ask.

“Nope. The other dudes I know are still single. But our leader is married and one of the girls, Rachel, is engaged.”

“Tell her congratulations for me.”

“I shall. Tell me about college. Are you going to raucous parties with plenty of cheap beer and getting many hangovers?”

“Yep. Total party animal over here.” You deadpan. “No, I’ve been spending my weekends back home and such, like I told you. Not with frat boys.”

Luke freezes. “When did I mention frat boys? Are you hangin’ out with frat boys?”

You can’t help but laugh, “No, I just happened to add that. My college’s fraternities kinda have reputation for throwing ‘totally bitching’” You mimic a “frat boy” “Parties.”

Luke’s about to ask a question, when the door to their housing unit bangs open.

“Hey, Hemmo, whatcha doing?” A voice says as the apparent crowd walks in.

“Skyping my girlfriend.” Your boyfriend turns to look up at them from his chair.

“No way, she actually exists?” They all clamor over and stand behind him, leaning in front of the camera to get a closer look at you, causing you to blush.

“Holy shit, she’s real.” Red Dog, obvious by his red and black buzzcut, which used to be a blue, full head of hair.

“And no photoshop.” Robin, the only one with dark hair, says, impressed.

You laugh as Luke shoves them away from the camera. “Hey, I’d like to look at my girlfriend right now, please.”

“Ugh, people in love are so selfish.” That leaves Win to be the one who says the joking comment. “Nice meeting you, Y/N.” He waves. You wave back.

“Good to know you’re not a figment of Hemmo’s jerking off fantasy.” Red Dog adds.

“Hey, I still could be in the jerking off part!” You grin and the other boys laugh. Especially when Luke’s cheeks turn so red you can tell through the pixelated Skype video.

“Leave us alone, you dicks! I just want to talk to my girlfriend!” Luke whines.

“Fine, we’ll leave the lovebirds be.” Robin says. “Have fun, you two.” He says as he leads the other two away.

“Don’t forget protection!”

“She’s in another fucking country!” Luke laughs at them.

“Bye, Y/N!” They walk away.

“They seem fun.”

“The army is a party.” Luke rolls his eyes, but grins.

From <Y/N Y/L/N yourschoolemail@yourschoolname.edu> Nov. 25

Subject: Thanksgiving motherfucker *turkey emoji*

Dear Lukey,

I’m back home for a week, and I decided to give you an update on my life and such since it’s obviously so enthralling .

Classes are escalating quickly before winter finals. I’m not exuberant about this, but I deal because it’s fucking college and it’s what I’ve always wanted blah blah blaaaaaahhh.

Liz is finally crying less. But as soon as someone mentions the word “war” she bursts into tears again and remains inconsolable for at least two hours. It’s heartbreaking, but I’m getting used to it.

I just finished helping her with the preparation for the Thanksgiving feast when I suddenly just missed you so much I almost couldn’t breathe. And that hadn’t happened yet. Like I’ve felt like that was happening, but that was metaphorical. This was literal. I just stopped what I was doing and coughed and almost started crying in front of our moms.

It just reminded me of all the times we would help our moms for the feast. Our dads and your brothers would watch football but you hate that sport so you’d help in the kitchen. But you burn everything you try to cook so you’d set the table and fetch things for us. And since I was always in charge of the pies and desserts you’d always beg and beg me for a little “tiny, baby piece” of whatever pie I was on and give me your pretty blue eyes and I’d always cave and give you some and fuck I’m crying again.

I’m not trying to guilt you, but it really fucking sucks that you’re not here. You were always here, you know? You’ve always just been a constant and now you’re not here in one of the closest holidays we’ve had because you and I both love eating a shit ton of food.

And you’re not here for it.

Love and sadness,



From <Luke Hemmings- Private First Class hemmo96@army.goc> Nov. 25

Subject: Re: Thanksgiving motherfucker *turkey emoji*

You tool,

Don’t even talk to me about food right now. Nothing against the cooks here, but it’s hard to make good food in a warzone and shit, so I’m totally craving your pies and my mom’s turkey and your mom’s really awesome gravy. My stomach is growling just thinking about it.

And I know you didn’t mean to but I am so fucking sorry you’re crying because of me. It breaks my heart. I don’t know what to say to make it better but I love you so much, Y/N. I love you with all of my heart.

I’ve got to cut this short, I have to go on another night run to do something I’m not going to tell you because you’ll get scared and worried and I’m not doing that to you so close to our favorite holiday.

I love you so much. Never forget this.

Your soldier (I know it’s cheesy but it’s true),

Luke Hemmo

P.S. Eat three slices of pie for me.


From <Luke Hemmings - Specialist hemmo96@army.goc> Dec. 21

Subject: Fuck

Y/N, I am in the worst mood right now.

Everything is so completely and utterly shit.

I can barely stand doing this anymore. And I’ve barely done it half the year, and that’s including the fucking training.

I hate all the fucking bugs everywhere. I hate the fact these damn shoes give me the worst blisters since the time you made me walk around in high heels when we were 13. I hate the bathrooms, they suck and they smell so bad you want to throw up right into the hole you just shit in.

I hate the constant soreness from carrying a shit ton of gear. I hate the fact that it’s freezing in the warzone and I can’t take a hot shower and I’m all pale. I thought the army was going to give me a fucking tan or some shit.

I hate I’m fucking missing Christmas. I love Christmas. You love Christmas. My mom loves Christmas. My dad loves Christmas. Everyone fucking loves Christmas, and I spent today putting a 15-year-old kid in a body bag.

I want to be home. I want to be with my family and open presents and I want to be with you. I miss you so goddamn much. I miss your hair and eyes and smell and the way you make everything better and to be honest, I miss the kissing and the sex and the great way you give blowjobs. I’m so fucking horny here and everything is shit and I miss you so much.

I know I’m doing a great thing and I’m saving lives but that seems so far away. You seem so far away. What if you’re talking to some guy you met in class and he’s fucking perfect for you and you’re forgetting about me?

I feel so fucking weak right now. I hope you still love me, even though I can’t do this.

-Luke (aka a very shitty Hemmo)


From <Y/N Y/L/N yourschoolemail@yourschoolname.edu> Dec. 22

Subject: Re: Fuck

Dear My Strong Soldier,

Oh my god, Luke.

So many things I need to say to this.

I’m going to start with the fact I will always love you. There won’t be some guy in a class because that guy won’t be you and therefore I don’t really care.

I’m so sorry things are terrible over there. I’m so sorry you’re miserable and that things are shit but I believe in you, babe. You’re strong and brave and amazing and you will get through this because you are an amazing soldier. You can do this.

I miss you so much but don’t feel bad. I’d miss you if you were next door. Christmas will suck without you because we’ll be worried but we’ll be thinking of you and probably spend the whole day dedicated to you and it won’t be okay but it will be close enough because we love you and we respect your choices.

You are not a terrible soldier. I’m sure everyone hates your job sometimes. I’ll google to see how many people hate being soldiers when I actually wake up (it’s like 3 in the morning here and I missed you so I wanted to check my email and then I saw this one and my heart broke) but I’m sure it’s definitely a thing. It’s hard now, but you can do this. And you’re definitely not alone in your feelings, so don’t feel shitty.

I love you so fucking much, my big, strong soldier,



When you get back, I’ll give you the best damn blowjob you’ve ever gotten.


Skype call from Y/N Y/L/N

Answered, Dec. 31

“Wow, you’re actually on!” You grin at Luke’s pixelated face.

“It’s a New Years miracle.” Luke smiles tiredly.

“What time is it there? You look ragged.”

“Like seven in the morning of the new year, I think.”

“Go to bed. I don’t want to fuck up the minimal sleep you already get.” You fret, thinking back to his Christmas email.

“Don’t worry, these last few days have actually been pretty chill. Nothing bad. Probably in the spirit of Christmas.” He rubs at his eyes.

“Am I waking up anyone? I hope I didn’t wake your platoon.”

“They’re getting breakfast. I was about to call you, so they’re bringing me back something so I can have the time to talk to you.”

“How sweet!” You smile then it slowly falls. “I want to talk about the email…”

He holds up a hand, “There’s nothing to talk about. I just had a little stress breakdown. I swear, I feel much better now. I don’t know what really changed, but I just realized you’re right and that I can do this and I can last and you love me and everything will be okay.”

“You should always realize I’m right.”

“I’m having a moment here, you tool.”

“Shit, sorry.” But you’re smiling, happy you made him feel better.

“You always make things better for me. Even when I’m in a war zone. How do you do it?”

“Magic and voodoo.” You smile, and he smiles back.

There’s a silence where you just stare at the blurry images on the screen but then he clears his throat and looks down, “I miss you so much, though.”

“I miss you too. It sucks because whenever something happened I used to be able to text you or tell you as soon as I got home, but now everything is a story for a congealed email” You gesture this with your hands, “that I’ll end up ruining with my wording.”

“You’re doing great so far.” Luke rests his chin in his hand. “But yeah, I know what you mean. Red Dog, Win, and Robin are, surprisingly, hilarious and they have these great jokes that I can’t even replicate in person. Much less in an email.” He mockingly mimics your gesture so you flip him off,

“I’ll have to meet them when you guys go to a home base.”

“That’ll be awesome. And you can introduce me to your college friends.”

“Maddie will definitely want to meet you, and so will my other classmate friends. They’ll probably make jokes about how hot a man in uniform is.” You roll your eyes.

“Don’t pretend you’re not into it.”

“Who said I’m not into it?” You wink.

He gets this dark, sensual look in his eyes, “Y/N, I swear when I get home-”
“I GOT FOOD, HEMMO!” One of the boys’ voices shouts as the bust open the door.

“Fuck.” Luke groans and you can’t help but giggle.


From <Y/N Y/L/N yourschoolemail@yourschoolname.edu> Jan. 14

Subject: Please don’t leave me

Dear Luke,

Remember when I told you that my professor hated me?

Well I was wrong.

Very wrong.

He made me stay after class today (what am I, in high school again? I thought I fucking graduated) and he told me that I had made “real progress” and I was “much better than I was” at the beginning of the year and I was pretty sure he was looking down my top and then he tried to kiss me and I shoved him off me and I threatened to call the cops but then he threatened to fail me and I just feel really fucking dirty because I don’t want to fail so I’m not saying anything.

I wish you were here so bad. You make me feel brave and smart and pretty but right now all I feel is weak, dumb and ugly I hate it so much. I don’t know what to do, fuck I’m so confused.

I love you so much, I swear he didn’t actually kiss me I’d never cheat on you. I swear, please don’t leave me I love you so much. I’m so sorry.



From <Luke Hemmings - Corporal hemmo96@army.goc> Jan. 14

Subject: Re: Please don’t leave me

Fuck, Y/N, I was so scared when I got this email holy shit.

I’m telling you right now, I am never leaving you. Especially for something like this. Your fuckass professor coming onto you isn’t your fault, I swear. It’s his. And I’m so sorry I’m not that there to make it better. Know if I was there, I’d be hugging you and comforting you and watching that shitty romantic movie  you love over and over until you smile.

And after I finish comforting you, I’ll go right up to your professor and show him my assault rifle. Maybe give him a demonstration.

Fine, you know I won’t but I can still think about doing it.

Tell the school. That jerkoff needs to get fired, he’s not allowed to do that. Especially not to my girlfriend. I will support you through this whole thing from over here. No matter what happens, I will support you.

Don’t ever worry about me leaving you. I don’t care what happens, I’m coming home to you. It just might be a bit, haha. Only eight more months.

I love you so much

Your soldier,



Skype call from Y/N Y/L/N

No answer Jan. 20


Skype Call from Y/N Y/L/N

No answer Jan. 20


Skype Call from Y/N Y/L/N

No answer Jan. 21


Skype Call from Y/N Y/L/N

No answer Jan. 23


Skype Call from Y/N Y/L/N

No answer Jan. 24


Skype Call from Y/N Y/L/N

No answer Jan. 26


Skype call from Y/N Y/L/N

No answer Jan. 28


From <Y/N Y/L/N yourschoolemail@yourschoolname.edu> Jan. 29

Subject: Please respond I’m worried

Dear Luke,

I’m really scared. You haven’t replied to my emails and you haven’t answered any of my Skype calls. Is everything okay? I’m really terrified.

I can’t help but get worried. You usually take a day or two to respond. It’s been over a week.

I have stuff to tell you about my professor.

Plus, I just really want to fucking talk to you.

Please respond as soon as you get this.

I love you.

Even though you’re not replying to me.



From <Y/N Y/L/N yourschoolemail@yourschoolname.edu> Feb. 1

Subject: Answer me dammit


You’re really scaring me. Why aren’t you responding? I’m checking news sources from all over but you’ve never told me where you got deployed. It’s always a fucking “warzone.” I don’t know if something happened and I really just need you to fucking reply because I’m going crazy.




From <Y/N Y/L/N yourschoolemail@yourschoolname.edu> Feb. 2

Subject: Fuck you just respond

If this is a joke I swear to god we’re over


From <Y/N Y/L/N yourschoolemail@yourschoolname.edu> Feb. 2

Subject: Ugh

Fine, whatever, if this is a joke I’ll still date you but I’ll probably never forgive you for it. Because you suck for intentionally putting me through this.


From <Y/N Y/L/N yourschoolemail@yourschoolname.edu> Feb. 4

Subject: Luke please



For the love of god, respond. I don’t know if you’re alive anymore. I used to always know, somehow I’d know you were safe somewhere, but now I don’t and I’m really scared. I’m terrified. And I don’t think you’re joking anymore…

I love you so much just please respond



From <Y/N Y/L/N yourschoolemail@yourschoolname.edu> Feb. 5

Subject: (No Subject)

Fuck you asshole just respond


From <Y/N Y/L/N yourschoolemail@yourschoolname.edu> Feb. 5

Subject: Luke please…

A/N: Yes there will be a part three. I hope you guys like this one! 

Chapter 1

Her body commands your attention…


I laughed to myself as these “tough” guys continued to mug the shit out of me. I mean, damn, I know I’m the best looking nigga in here, but that don’t give these niggas the right to be staring at me like that. I chuckled as I walked over to where the telephone was. Man, this shit look dirty as hell. I dialed Jasmine’s number. She’s probably worried sick about my dumbass. I just wanna hear her voice. The phone rang about four times and then went to her voicemail. What was that about? I know she’s probably a little mad, but still. Not answering my calls knowing that I’m sitting here in this hellhole? That’s fucked up. I sighed. I hung up, then picked the phone up again to call Trey. Trey is my nigga for life. I met him when me and the fam first moved out to LA. The first real nigga I met out here. I never thought I would meet somebody from Virginia in LA, what a coincidence.

“Yooooo” I murmured into the phone after Trey answered.

“You good?” Trey asked. What kinda stupid ass question is that?

“Hell no I aint good, I’m sitting up here in this shitty place. What the fuck?” I asked, frustrated.

“Calm the fuck down. I told you me and the lawyer will be there first thing in the morning. Aint no sense in you getting uptight,” Trey argued.

“Alright man, guess I’ll see you in the morning,” I mumbled hanging up the phone.

As I turned around, I came in contact with one of the niggas who was acting like they wanted to get right. Man I’m tired of this shit. I know I said I’d tried to change but these niggas keep testing me. I spoke up.

“Do you got a problem, my nigga?” I spat.

“You hogging up the phone pretty boy. Who said you could have two phone calls?” he asked.

“Nigga if you don’t get the fuck out my face with the bullshit. And the next time you try to walk up on somebody make sure yo breath don’t smell like shit.”

That’s when the muhfucka lost it and pushed me. He must have lost his rabbit ass mind. My right fist connected to his eye, then my left fist connected to his jaw. He stumbled and held onto his jaw as his lip bled. His two little goons rushed over and jumped in. One of them held me in a tight headlock, while the other started to punch me in my chest and gut. Soon enough, I was on the floor and all three of them were stomping me out. Three against one, what kinda bullshit was this?

Two guards came rushing in breaking up the fight. They got them off of me, and got me on my feet. One of the guards took me out the cell with his arm supporting my back.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked as blood leaked from my mouth. He didn’t answer. Instead he spoke into the walkie talkie he had. “Hey, are any of the nurses still here? Well tell her not to leave yet, she has one more and he’s beaten up pretty bad.”


I sighed as the person at the front desk just came to tell me I have one more patient. Damn, I just wanna go home, take a shower, and get in the bed. It’s been a long day. Can’t these jailbirds go a day without fighting? I sucked my teeth and got out all the necessary materials. The guard came in with the guy and laid him down. Damn, he looks like he’s in some serious pain, poor dude. His eyes were closed. I didn’t know whether to get started right away or say something to him.

“Sir?” I spoke up. His eyes stayed closed. “Just do whatever you gotta do” he responded. Damn I was just trying to see if he was alright. I lifted his shirt up so I could tend to his bruised ribs.


I hissed as the nurse poured alcohol on my right side. It was cold and stung like a motherfucker. I slowly started to open my eyes to see her staring at me. Damn, baby girl was beautiful. She looked like she was in her twenties, hair long, didn’t have face full of make up like all these other LA hoes. That was just her face. As for her body, can you say titties and ass on fleek? Let me stop staring.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“I might be now” I replied, even though a nigga felt like he was dying. She chuckled a little bit.

“What happened to you?”

“Got ran up on by three niggas for using the phone in the cell” I said. She looked sympathetic.

“Wow” she said.

I stared at her a little more then realized something.

“You know you look familiar, I just can’t put my finger on it” I spoke up. She looked at me.

“I could say the same, I just didn’t wanna say anything first and come off as a weirdo,” she admitted. We both laughed. Damn my chest and ribs were killing me.

“I wouldn’t have thought you were a weirdo” I said softly. She smiled, then started to patch up my ribs.

“Wait, you’re Christopher, Christopher Brown. We both went to Tappahannock High,” she stated.

“Oh yeah, that’s it! I just don’t remember your name, I think I used to get it all wrong back then too.”

“Yes, you did” she rolled her eyes playfully. “But you can just call me Nic.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you again Nic,” I said flashing my million dollar smile.

She smiled back.