evidence i have lost my mind

A threatening kiss

You and Harry are arguing after pictures of him making out with a girl are published online. He claims he’s innocent, but fed up and hurt you make him sleep at a hotel for the night. 

Warning: Hints on mature content

This is a One Shot I have had saved in my drafts for a very long time now and since I haven’t posted in a while, I tried to go over it one more time and then publish it. Please pardon any mistakes, I finished it in one sitting. Thank you for reading and I hope you like it!

Gif is not mine, as I have never gotten this close to the beautiful human that is Harry Styles. 

His hair was a mess after having his ringed fingers furiously pulling on the newly short locks. Harry’s eyes were desperate and reflected his distraught emotions. After having argued for over two hours now, he felt like all hope I might believe his words was lost. He didn’t find it in him to blame me though, there was enough evidence to be held against him. I didn’t look much better myself as I had adapted Harry’s habit of stressed hair pulling. Additional to that came the redness on my cheeks and the stickiness the tears had left on them. My mind and heart raced as I stared at the man standing in front of me. He looked so strange to me now. 

I’d always expected something like this to happen, he was the famous Harry Styles after all. People loved him, wanted to be like or with him and as his girlfriend, I was aware that at some point, I’d be pulled into the mess as well. Some day, someone would try to jeopardize our relationship. However, I had always thought that should it happen, it wouldn’t be real. Maybe a PR stunt his management forced onto him without him knowing or something.
I had never believed that he would come home and tell me that the pictures of him pressed against and kissing a girl, who clearly wasn’t me, were real. The pink lips I was so familiar with had just been tasted by someone else and that was something I could not accept.

“Why can’t you just listen to me?” Harry cried, his voice breaking after being raised for too long.

“Because this is exactly what everyone warned me about when I first started going out with you!”

Sitting down on the couch I buried my face in my hands as I allowed more tears to fall. My entire body jerked as sobs wrecked through me and I shook my head in disbelief.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry asked, disappointment evident in his voice.

“It’s what you always do, right? You’re going out with one girl and once you’re sick of her you pick the next in line. I always figured that was a PR thing and that it wouldn’t happen once you were in a serious relationship, but I guess I was wrong.”

“Seriously, Y/N? You can’t just hold what I did before I was with you against me now, that would make you no better than all those damn magazines talking bullshit about me. And besides, that’s not what happened at all! This girl just came on to me!

"Yeah? Well maybe none of this would’ve happened if you’d told your precious fans about us! Maybe you wouldn’t have to fight girls off if they knew that you’re already with someone!”

I knew I was being unfair as we had actually gotten to an agreement on that topic already, but I continued anyway. “But you like that don’t you? That’s why you’re keeping me as your dirty, little secret at home! You love how every girl would throw herself at your feet and kiss them should you ask!”

He shook his head. Harry’s breathing was hectic and he looked as exhausted as I felt. His usually intimidating appearance was shadowed by the glossiness of his green eyes and the hollowness of his cheeks. I felt sick. I knew what my words did to him, but to finally have voiced my darkest fears felt like a weigh being lifted off my chest.

“Look, Harry, I think we’ve argued enough for tonight. I’m done.”

He stared at me silently before nodding. “Alright. We should just talk about it tomorrow.”

“No,” I breathed, repetitively clenching and unclenching my fists. “I’m done with this mess. I want- I need a break.”

Harry’s eyes followed my movements as I got up and brushed past him on my way to the kitchen. When my shoulder brushed against his arm I felt as if the contact burned my skin. The meal I had prepared before the yelling had begun was now a mess and littered all over. The pieces of his plate lay still shattered on the floor while my food rested untouched and I quickly decided that I would only clean the worst of it tonight and leave the rest for tomorrow.

“What are you saying? You- You’re breaking up with me?” Harry’s voice sounded small from behind me and my heart broke at the noise.

It was the complete opposite from how he had spoken to me only minutes ago, all quiet and uncertain. I sighed and leaned against the sink.
I knew Harry loved me and god knows I loved him more than anything else, but I couldn’t deny the pain I felt when I first saw the pictures. The disappointment cursing through my veins when he confirmed that they were real. The taste of vomit made its way up my throat by the mere thought of his lips pressed to hers. His hands touched the skin of her waist, the tight crop-top exposing more than I ever wore out of the house, as her own hands fisted in his hair. And no matter how much he swore his faithfulness and devotion to me, he didn’t feel like mine anymore.

“I’ll stay at a hotel for the night.”

Within three strides he reached me and turned me to face him with gentle touches to my cheeks. His green eyes stared intensely into mine, making my knees go weak. I pressed back hard against the cold stone, uncomfortable by his sudden closeness.

“You want away from me that desperately?”

I carefully pried his hands from my face. “Yes. I’m sorry, Harry, but I want some time away from you.”

Tears shot to his eyes, drowning their green in pain. A sob left his mouth and I had to look away. Watching Harry cry hurt more than anything else had tonight. It felt wrong, seeing a person who was usually so confident and had happiness shining from his eyes looking at me with such utter sadness.

“Y/N,” Harry whispered, “Please. I- I know I fucked up badly. But I swear to you I didn’t cheat. I never would. Do you really believe I would ruin us for someone else?” he shook his head forcefully. “You’re the most important person in my life. Please, I beg of you-”

He moved to touch me again but I quickly raised both hands and pushed him away hard, a gesture that wouldn’t have done much given his height and strength, but it was Harry, and Harry reacted to my discomfort. He pulled away instantly and took a few strides back.

“Y/N,” he murmured, defeated. “will you not hear me out? Please.”

“I have and I can’t any longer, Harry,” I exhaled desperately. My hands rubbed the skin beneath my eyes to wipe away any wetness left on the skin. “Even looking at you doesn’t feel the same anymore. You kissed her! I can’t even say it without feeling like I’ll have to vomit! This is too much for me, can’t you see that?”

Harry looked as if I had hit him right across his face. His cheeks were red and his mouth open in shock. He tried to reach me again but seemed to change his mind and he let his hands drop to his sides.

“From the day we met, I have done nothing but love you! I’ve put you first, I sacrificed so much and this is what I get? How is that fair? Tell me ‘cause I’m stumped!”

“Listen to me,” he spoke in an urgent tone. His pleading came unexpected as I had gotten used to him screaming at me with nothing but anger in his voice.

“I’ll leave. Okay? I promise not to come back until you ask me to. I’ll give you time,” his voice cracked and he coughed, “away from me. But please, stay here. I need to know you’re safe.”

His eyes searched my face and widened when I nodded. Sleeping at a hotel somewhere in London wasn’t something I was exactly eager to do and since the entire argument was all his fault in my eyes, it may as well be him who suffers the consequences. Though the whole situation did cause me suffering as well.

“Fine,” I agreed quietly.

“I’ll get a few things and then I’ll be gone.”

He looked like he had hoped I’d say something along the line of a request to make him stay, but I only nodded again and watched as he slowly left the kitchen. I didn’t move, even when I heard him rummaging in our drawers and the zipper of a bag being pulled. The pit of my stomach felt like a vacuum, an empty space that pushed all my organs out its way to fill my body with uneasiness. Soon Harry was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, fully dressed and with his bag over his shoulder.

“I’ll… ehm… I’ll go now. You’ll be alright?”

“I think so,” I croaked.

We stared at each other for a minute. His lips partnered as he bit back so much he had to say, before deciding against it.

“Can I ask one thing from you before I go?”

I hesitated but nodded. Harry sighed and clenched and unclenched his hands.

“Kiss me? I don’t want to leave without one more kiss from you.”

The desperation in his voice caught my attention and kept me from shouting at him for even asking. I understood that he didn’t ask out of lust for me or so that he could prove a point. His eyes pleaded me to let him have one reminder as he feared I would decide to end our relationship while he was absent.

“Just one,” I murmured and forced myself not to step back as he approached me.

Harry carefully touched my cheek and whimpered upon feeling how sore my skin was. I reached my own arms up as he gently nudged my nose with his before leaning in further until his warm mouth met mine. I whined in surprise as he didn’t go slow like he usually did, but pushed his tongue against my lips in order to get me to open them the second they pressed against his. Harry cradled my face in both hands to keep me from moving away as he guided the kiss. Just as I felt myself loosing to him he pulled away.
His eyes stared at me as if he tried to speak through them, but before I could say anything he turned and exited the room.
I jumped when I heard the door slam shut forcefully. My heart ached at the faint sound of his car pulling up on the street as he drove away, leaving me alone in our big and empty home. It took less than ten minutes of him gone before the events of the night came crushing down on me, causing hysterical cries to leave my mouth as I crouched down on the floor. I didn’t bother quieting my sobs and allowed myself to be absorbed in my hurt. At first it surprised me that none of our neighbors came to check up on me, but it soon occurred to me that they had most likely heard Harry and I argue and seen him drive away. A sudden fear crept through me and I jumped to my feet. As it was very late it had got dark outside a long time ago. I knew how crazy the Londoner streets around our house got by this hour and I instantly reached for my phone. How could I have made him drive? My heart ached at the thought of something happening to him; I wouldn’t be able to bare it. Before my fingers could dial the familiar phone number, I stopped. I was acting foolish and simply tried to invent a reason for me to call him back. His presence was already missed dearly.
I made my way up to our bathroom, undressed and stepped into the shower. Hot water touching my skin always washed away any tension, today however, it did little to calm me. At least it killed time. Once dressed I grabbed a blanked and curled up on the couch, but it felt much too big without a second body there. I uncomfortably stretched my limps and after flipping through various channels I switched the TV off. I rested one of my hands against my forehead and momentarily closed my eyes.

Think Y/N. Think. What are the facts?

Harry had kissed a girl that wasn’t me. He had betrayed me in the most hurtful way and had gone against the one promise he’d made me he swore was as sacred to him as it was to me. He cheated. Another cry left my lips and I cursed my eyes for letting more tears fall as an image of him having sex with her shot through my head. My stomach turned. My Harry laying bare on a bed for someone who wasn’t me? I had always hated to as much as imagine him with women before we started dating, but to think of him sleeping with someone else while he had me was something entirely else. Unimaginable almost.

I decided he couldn’t have. Though I had believed him kissing someone else was impossible, too, sex was an entirely different department and I knew he would never cross that line. After all, he did tell me about it. He came home and immediately owned up to everything.
It had hurt just as much as I imagined hearing it through the media would have, but his honesty still meant a lot to me.

His reaction could have been a better one, though. The second I had began questioning him for details about how exactly the girl had gotten to be in a position this close to him, he raised his voice. I understood his anger at my doubts in him, but how could he possibly blame me? There were pictures for god’s sake! And they didn’t exactly show him particularly disgusted to be making out with a fan.
But what if his loud reaction had been his desperation shining through as he tried to show me how scared he was of losing us?

“Oh, Harry,” I whispered. “What are you doing to me.”

Maybe what I had said earlier was true. This happened because no one knew he had a girlfriend. Girls wouldn’t push themselves at him anymore once they knew, right? Okay, some might, but I knew there were fans who respected the girlfriends. And maybe what he had said was true, too. That he had always been faithful to me and didn’t deserve to be doubted by me. If only I could have collected my emotions and let him explain himself better.
I loved him so much. Too much maybe.
One glance to the clock told me that Harry had now been gone for over three hours already. The ache in my chest increased and I missed my boyfriend’s presence more and more by the second. I unlocked my phone and opened his chat where my fingers quickly flew over the keys.

Come home?

His answer came so quickly it made me smile in relief and picture him sitting beside his phone all night, awaiting a message from me.

You sure?

My phone buzzed again before I could reply.

Never mind. Don’t tell me. I’m on my way.

And again.

I’ll be there in 30. I love you. xx

Warmth spread through my body and I smiled. I patted the pillow I rested my head on and sighed happily, knowing that he’d be back soon. For the first time this evening, I felt at ease.



I felt a hand on my shoulder and then one pressed against my hips. My head felt dizzy and my eyes too heavy to fully open as I was lifted up and scooped into Harry’s arms.

“Why were you sleeping down here, baby? Did you forget our incredibly comfortable bed upstairs?” Harry softly chuckled.

“Mhmm,” I hummed, nuzzling his neck, finding comfort in his warmth. My heart swelled and I felt like I could finally breathe again as my chest pressed against his when he pulled me against himself tightly.

“I can’t believe you fought me to leave you the bed and sleep somewhere else, only for you to take the couch. Makes no sense, love, does it?”

Harry smiled when the only answer he received from me was a whine. He carried me upstairs and gently placed me on our soft mattress. Careful fingers unzipped the thin material I wore over my shirt before he slid off my sweats, leaving me in just the shirt and a pair of knickers. All of a sudden his presence was gone again.

“Harry?” I called out for him as I propped myself up on my elbows.

“I’m gonna sleep in the guest room, my angel” his quiet voice hummed from somewhere in the room.

“Why?” I couldn’t hide the disappointment in my voice. I had expected us to be fine now and him to cuddle with me. My mind was too tired to think about any more reasons to argue with him. I longed for this to become one of the quiet and comfortable nights we always had.

“You said you needed space, my love. Wanted away from me, remember?”

I could particularly hear his pout in his voice before a chuckle rumbled through the room when I vigorously shook my head. My shoulders relaxed as I noticed how calm he seemed.

“I changed my mind,” I whined and sat up, reaching both arms out into the direction I believed him standing since the darkness prevented me from actually seeing him. “Come here. Need you to make me warm again.”

Harry didn’t make any noise. I hated not seeing him and sighed as my eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. He stood near the door, an expression of hesitation on his face. There was a small smile playing on his lips, however, and I could see the relief in his eyes upon my request of him staying with me.
He didn’t move fast, as if he was expecting me to change my ming any second, but my breath hitched when I felt the bed dip under the weight of another body. Harry crawled onto his side of the bed, pulling the covers higher over the both of us. He sprawled out beside me and his eyes locked with mine.

“Hi,” he murmured quietly.

I reached out my hand and he entwined our fingers. I smiled when he leaned forward and pressed his lips to my knuckles. A giggle escaped his lips when I pulled at his hand, motioning him to move closer to me. Following my silent request he pushed himself up and laid his body down closer to mine, close enough for me to feel the warmth radiating off of him.

“Hey,” I breathed.

We stared at each other. His green eyes were clear and lightly swollen, telling me that he had cried at least as much as I did.

“I’m so sorry,” he promised in a low whisper.

I shook my head to silence him.

“Harry,” I breathed, brushing his hair from his forehead. “You know you mean the world to me. I want nothing less than to lose you, you must know that.”

“I don’t want to lose you either, Y/N,” Harry spoke and leaned forward to bury his nose against my shoulder and in my hair.

“You’ve proven me often enough that I can trust you,” I continued and reached up one hand so that I could caress his neck.
“Tell me your side of the story,” I suggested, “I’ll listen properly this time and will believe you, whatever it is you tell me.”

“Okay,” Harry agreed and tugged on my hand, followed by giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I was at Sainsbury’s to get your tea like you asked me to, when all of a sudden this girl showed up and she just grabbed my face and began kissing me. She fisted my hair and shirt so I couldn’t get her off of me without hurting her, which I obviously didn’t want to do either. I really had to push her several times before she lessened her grip, but of course that wasn’t until some damn photographer’s took pictures of it. I’m so sorry,” he choked on the last word, “Y/N I never meant for you to get hurt like this. I know what it looks like. But I swear to you, the kiss wasn’t mutual. I didn’t kiss back and I haven’t seen the girl since, nor would I ever want to! I’m so sorry. Please believe me.”

A sob left his lips and I shuddered as wet tears dripped onto my neck.

“Sh, Harry, it’s okay,” I tried to reassure him.

“No it’s not, I mean look at you. You’re hurt and you’ve been crying. And I yelled at you when you aren’t the one who made the mistake. I’m such an asshole. ”

“That’s not true, Harry. You’re nothing like an asshole. At all.”

Harry sniffled and pulled back so he could look at me. The back of my hands moved up to brush over his temples before taking hold of his face.

“I love you so much,” I told him. “You didn’t to anything wrong. I should have believed you in the first place instead of doubting you. You’ve always been faithful to me, a picture shouldn’t have been able to ruin all that.”

I gently stroke over his eyelid with the tip of my finger. The skin felt sore and I sighed sadly.
“I’m sorry I caused you so much pain.”

His hands held my waist and pulled me against him. Harry shuffled further down and pressed his head against my shoulder. I rested my chin on his head and kissed his hair. I felt him breath heavily as if he wanted to say something and couldn’t find the words. Finally all he said was:

“I love you.”

“Love you, too, Harry” I whispered.

Silence settled upon us and I felt like there was nothing more we could say, but we didn’t fall asleep full. Harry didn’t move until the very early morning. It was only then that he allowed me to move my arms from around his shoulders to around his waist as he crawled up to lay closer by the headboard.

“M'gonna tell the world about us tomorrow,” he murmured, “Want everyone to know that m'taken.”

I sighed and nodded. “Please do.”

We stayed cuddled like that for several more hours before he rolled over me. His mouth found mine in a slow kiss and his hands reached down to pull at the hem of my knickers. We didn’t bother taking off my shirt or completely pushing down his boxers, only freeing what was needed.
I kissed him tenderly and blindly reached behind him to pull the covers over both of our heads.

Thank you so much for reading! Feedback is always welcome and so are requests, though I’m quite busy at the moment and it will take me some time to finish anything I start new right now. 

The rest of what I wrote you can find here: 


Let's get some things clear about Tsukiyama Shuu.

disclaimer: i am not claiming any of the following to be absolute truth, only theory

Ishida writes very intricately; Everything he does is for a reason and for everything that he blatantly points out there’s a different, often opposite meaning to it. He made Tsukiyama out to be the villain, Touka to be the love interest, Yomo to be a back ground character, Arima to be the CCG’s hero, and there’s many more.

This post gives an interesting theory that it’s likely that Arima is the One Eyed King, aka the leader of Aogiri; the ultimate villain. Touka has taken the back seat in importance in Tokyo Ghoul:re; she triggered a feeling of nostalgia in Haise but it wasn’t a groundbreaking event. It’s obvious that Yomo has a bigger role with Rize and his relationship with Ken, he is not a side character by any stretch of the imagination. In regards to triggers for Haise I think it’s important to note that Nishiki’s reunion made him react violently, his memories just barely coming to the surface. He was also one of the people he talked to seriously before he left to the raid that ultimately resulted in his “death”

I’m going to take the time right now to acknowledge that Shuu had every intention to kill and eat Kaneki during the initial Gourmet arc. I don’t think the desire to eat him ever went away, but was curbed by other desires.

With all that in mind, and with Ishida’s style in mind as well, what does all of this make Tsukiyama? Let’s take a closer look, shall we?

Let’s start here: They have the most in common out of every character in the series. 

They both had the person they held most dear torn from them leaving them ALONE.


They used books to help them through their loneliest times.

And I don’t think he was lying when he said:

We don’t know about Tsukiyama’s family or his past other than that; for all we know he could have had a similar transformation to Kaneki when he lost his mind- maybe that’s how he learned to ignore his feelings; Maybe that’s why he focused on food to mask them. By chapter 128 he had to say it outloud to keep the lie going; he had to tell himself something to keep the feelings from showing assuming he is lying to himself.

He had no reason to tell Kaneki outright that he wants/needs to eat him. By telling him that did he expect to gain his trust or win him over? Obviously not; he had to have said it for he himself to believe it. No one lies to themselves that harshly unless something happened to make them do that; he must have been damaged by something or someone that made him start lying and deceiving people.

I’d also like to note that after Tsukiyama said “so you won’t give it to me…? my greatest delicacy…?” Not only did Kaneki not acknowledge the fact he just confessed to still wanting to eat him, he assured him that he understood the danger and validated his concern; he saw through the act and the lie.

As we all know Tsukiyama is a very proud man, he thinks highly of himself and takes pride in his title as the Gourmet.

He took pride in serving Kaneki.

He sacrificed his entire livelihood for Kaneki.

He began losing concentration out of concern for him.

He showed visible and audible distress at the thought of him dying by the CCG’s or Aogiri’s hands.

He let his guard down completely and didn’t try to defend himself when Kaneki lost his mind.

The whole group witnessed Kaneki unraveling in front of them, but only Tsukiyama kept his focus on him.

Tsukiyama knew Kaneki felt guilty that he hurt Banjou; it was also indicated earlier in the manga that Tsukiyama knew Kaneki was cannibalizing other ghouls to become stronger, he also knows that makes ghouls insane so we can assume he knows full well how Kaneki must feel. With this in mind, he took the time to comfort him in the best way he knew how: books.

Shuu also said he had the right to the strength he has, and if he let go of his shitty pride he’d be able to embrace that. But what I saw as important was what he said as he left:

At one point he suggested working together with Hinami to help him get back to normal.

On top of all of that, I noticed that Shuu only says “tell me” to his close friends.

He certainly doesn’t see Kaneki as a pet but he does do this:

Knowing this we can assume he genuinely considers Kaneki to be at least close friend. 

Looking to post chapter 128, we see the result of Tsukiyama losing the person he held most dear.

He questioned his meaning in life: was living all about gourmet food? What even is gourmet food to him if losing his “greatest delicacy” could do something like this?

We recently discovered his state very vaguely in Tokyo ghoul:re.

The once proud gourmet has starved himself and is withering away. He no longer seems to care for his appearance or well-being. However, we do still see a part of him that stayed the same- his endearing sense of fashion.

No one starves themselves for 3 years;

No one deprives themselves of life’s happiness for 3 years;

No one gives up everything to let themselves deteriorate and die for 3 years unless they were truly broken and hopeless.

A lost meal would not break a confident, powerful man like Shuu.

Now, with everything aforementioned in mind, what can we call Tsukiyama’s role in the Tokyo Ghoul series? In my opinion, with every else’s roles in mind and assuming this series will have all the roles in a typical story, I think Tsukiyama Shuu is Ken’s love interest (at least one sided). Not for the sake of the ship, but based on the evidence in ink on paper.

So what is Kaneki Ken to him? The world; his moon and stars; his life and his everything. There’s no question that his love for Ken is unhealthy and it started out as a sick obsession, but we cannot ignore Tsukiyama’s development as a character. The build up to Haise’s and Tsukiyama’s reunion has been the most intense out of the characters revealed so far.* It’s absolutely essential to recognize the importance of Tsukiyama’s character and his development in regards to the story because obviously he’s going to play a big part solely based on the fact that the entire plot is currently revolving around him

Thanks for reading and I hope you learned a bit along the way! Let’s begin taking care within our fandom to stick together and stop the hate that’s recently started. It doesn’t matter who we all ship, the fact is we love the series for what it is and that unites us. ♥

*I’m not excluding Hide here, he hasn’t even been mentioned therefore he does not apply to this specific opinion.

Edit: it’s come to my attention that calling Tsukiyama the love interest is kinda pushing it so I want to say he just rreeeaaallllyyyy loves Kaneki. Whether or not he’ll be the love interest is up in the air but there’s no doubt he has intense feelings for Ken.
Kind (Barry Allen x Reader)

A/N: Another original idea! Requests are still open! So you are welcome to send them in! Love you!

Pairing: Barry Allen x Reader

Warnings: swear words

Originally posted by wwhatfinn

             The day was sunny and my sense of direction was fucked up. I had no idea where I was and where I was actually going. It didn’t really help that I was new to the Central City and my phone has just died few minutes earlier. I looked at the useless device in my hand cursing myself that I forgot to charge it.

             Sure Y/N, go out, see the new city, forget that your battery was dying and get lost. I shook my head looking at the shops around me. I knew what I had to do. I had to find a book shop with maps. Yes, I was going to be old-fashioned and buy a map. People used to use only these and find their way around. Why couldn’t I? It was going to be great. I would get in touch with part of history… see the city I just moved into… It was going to be just peachy.

             After acquiring the map, I spent good ten minutes orientating myself around. I pin-pointed my location and the location of Central City Museum and I was good to go. With a map in my hand and proud/scared look on my face I started walking, looking at the piece of paper every few seconds, knowing well that I would lose myself otherwise.

             I had a good feeling that I was getting closer, or that I might have walked in a completely different direction. I didn’t know. The map didn’t have the small blue dot that I was so used to. I began to think, how easy I had it with my phone, which was doing literally everything for me. I thanked silently the people who came up with smartphones, for making my life that much easier.

             Lost in thought and in my map I bumped into someone. I lost my balance and I was almost 100% sure I was going to end up on the ground, somehow doubting that the map would cushion my fall.

‘Woah!’ I heard the male voice and I was balanced by the owner of it.

             I crashed the map in my hands and felt my cheeks burning bright red. I looked up and saw the most beautiful being I have ever seen. He was tall, his eyes were shining like two emerald crystals and his brown messy hair were sticking out in all directions. I kind of wanted to touch them. I looked at his full, pink lips and licked mine. I was so done.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked looking at me intensively.

             I was mute. I didn’t know what to say, I could only stare into those mesmerizing eyes. I needed to get my shit together and fast, because that beautiful human being just spoke to me and I needed to stop staring at him like a creep, I probably was.

‘Yeah… sorry’ I said quietly, feeling stupid ‘It’s just that bloody map was in a way… and I wasn’t looking where I was going and my phone died and I just moved here and they have this new exhibition in the museum and I wanted to see it before they closed it, but now I realise that I’m probably lost cause for the life of me I can’t find my way without my phone… I’m sorry, I’m a mess.’

             Woah. Great. I just told this total stranger my whole life story, it was going so great. I felt my cheeks getting even redder and I wondered how that was even possible. I looked like a tomato and I knew that it wasn’t my best look.

             I looked up at him and I could see traces of laughter in his eyes.

‘For one, CC museum is that way’ he pointed towards the direction I just came from.

             I hung my head down and shook it. I just made myself look like a complete idiot. He probably thought my sense of direction was really bad. Which was not wrong, but I didn’t necessarily want him to know that. Not yet anyways.

‘I’m passing it on my way to work, if you want I can take you there’ he said.

             I blinked few times, trying so hard not to overanalyse what that meant. He was just a kind soul, that took pity on me. It was on his way to work; it didn’t mean anything. It definitely didn’t give me the right to think about how beautiful our future children would be and the wedding march should not be playing in my head.

‘It is so kind of you’ I said, struggling with the map to put it back the way I found it.

‘I’m Barry, by the way’ he said, extending his hand towards me.

             I took it, shaking it lightly. Barry was an old man’s name. But it was not going to be an issue for me. Not with that beautiful smile of his.

             Y/N. Chill the hell out. He is just a strange man, who you just met. He literally did not give you any reason to fall in love with him. Well, except his face and his kindness. I wanted to be Mrs Barry so much.

‘I’m Y/N’ I said, smiling. ‘I’m sorry for bumping into you like that…’

‘Well, in all honesty, I bumped into you, cause I was on my phone’ he laughed awkwardly.

             I looked at him for few seconds and chuckled. There was no awkwardness between us. Normally when I talked to new people I had this feeling I was doing something really wrong. It wasn’t the case with him. I felt comfortable, I felt like I could tell him anything. And that scared me a bit, since I literally knew him for five minutes.

‘Well, Barry, I forgive you’ I said laughing.

‘But seriously, the map? Couldn’t you get a battery pack for your phone or something?’ he asked.

             I blinked few times. Yeah, I was really slow. That thought didn’t even cross my mind. The moment my phone died, my brain went straight to a map. Well done, Y/N, well fucking done.

‘I guess I wanted to feel like I was living in 2000s…’ I joked, chuckling ‘Okay, I didn’t really think about that.’

             He stopped and I looked at him confused. He showed me the huge building with the Central City Museum carved into it. I just overshot it by mere 200 meters. What was even more embarrassing, I probably passed it on my way. And I missed it. I missed a huge building. How did I even manage to do that, I had no idea.

‘See, I wasn’t that far off’ I said.

             I really didn’t want him to go. Our encounter was really brief, but it felt right. It felt like I was supposed to bump into him on that day. My phone was supposed to die and I was supposed to meet Barry.

‘Well, that’s where I leave you’ he announced, hesitantly, giving me his hand. ‘It was nice to meet you, Y/N’

‘Likewise’ I shook his hand.

             He nodded, let go off my hand and turned around. I tried to stifle the sadness which took over my heart when I saw him walking away. I felt really stupid, since I really didn’t know anything about him, but it just felt wrong. Him walking away felt wrong.

             He turned around and looked at me, making up his mind.

‘Y/N, can I have your number?’ he said, confidence evident in his voice ‘I don’t want you getting lost again… And I could show you around Central City… If you would like that, I mean.’

             Thank god.

‘Yeah, I’d like that’ I smiled.


Requests are still opeeen! My Masterlist. And Prompts and Prompts 2

American Horror Story: Murder House (E8: Rubber Man)
  • "This is wrong. It's all wrong."
  • "My baby. Where's my baby?"
  • "You really want to go for round two, huh?"
  • "They do say we all have a doppelganger."
  • "There are things in this world that can't be explained by the rational mind."
  • "I, for one, believe in things unseen."
  • "We're all just lost souls, aren't we?"
  • "None of this is exactly evidence of infidelity."
  • "Maybe we start with a simple pair of handcuffs."
  • "Every relationships a power play, with or without the props."
  • "Depressing sex is even more depressing when you try so hard."
  • "For the record, I like leather. Not latex."
  • "There are other souls trapped in here. Innocent, beautiful souls who never knew malice or anger."
  • "I don't like you. I don't like your type."
  • "We linger here with the living. No rest for them, no rest for us."
  • "There's a power in it, a power we can use."
  • "Sometimes I vibrate with such rage, it terrifies me."
  • "What you're saying is madness. I'm not dead."
  • "I know you've suffered a long time. I'm here to help you."
  • "My mind is playing tricks on me. I'm literally seeing things."
  • "That's what men do. They make you think you're crazy so they can have their fun."
  • "Men are still inventing ways to drive women over the edge."
  • "You need to get out while you still can. I fear for you if you don't."
  • "We don't have to be prisoners to this house anymore."
  • "If we'll anyone what we know, they'll say you're crazy."
  • "Did you plan this whole thing with your little whore?"
  • "I'm tired of hurting people."
  • "What is it about being dead that makes me so horny?"
  • "It's kind of romantic, isn't it? Now they'll be together forever."
A Sharply Worded Silence

by Louise Glück

Let me tell you something, said the old woman.
We were sitting, facing each other,
in the park at ___, a city famous for its wooden toys.

At the time, I had run away from a sad love affair,
and as a kind of penance or self punishment, I was working
at a factory, carving by hand the tiny hands and feet.

The park was my consolation, particularly in the quiet hours
after sunset, when it was often abandoned,
But on this evening, when I entered what was called the Contessa’s Garden,
I saw that someone had preceded me. It strikes me now
I could have gone ahead, but I had been
set on this destination; all day I had been thinking of the cherry trees
with which the glade was planted, whose time of blossoming had nearly ended.

We sat in silence. Dusk was falling,
and with it came a feeling of enclosure
as in a train cabin.

When I was young, she said, I liked walking the garden path at twilight
and if the path was long enough I would see the moon rise.
That was for me the great pleasure: not sex, not food, not worldly amusement.
I preferred the moon’s rising, and sometimes I would hear,
at the same moment, the sublime notes of the final ensemble
of The Marriage of Figaro. Where did the music come from?
I never knew.

Because it is the nature of garden paths
to be circular, each night, after my wanderings,
I would find myself at my front door, staring at it,
barely able to make out, in darkness, the glittering knob.

It was, she said, a great discovery, albeit my real life.

But certain nights, she said, the moon was barely visible through the clouds
and the music never started. A night of pure discouragement.
And still the next night I would begin again, and often all would be well.

I could think of nothing to say. This story, so pointless as I write it out,
was in fact interrupted at every stage with trance-like pauses
and prolonged intermissions, so that by this time night had started.

Ah the capacious night, the night
so eager to accommodate strange perceptions. I felt that some important secret
was about to be entrusted to me, as a torch is passed
from one hand to another in a relay.

My sincere apologies, she said.
I had mistaken you for one of my friends.
And she gestured toward the statues we sat among,
heroic men, self-sacrificing saintly women
holding granite babies to their breasts.
Not changeable, she said, like human beings.

I gave up on them, she said.
But I never lost my taste for circular voyages.
Correct me if I’m wrong.

Above our heads, the cherry blossoms had begun
to loosen in the night sky, or maybe the stars were drifting,
drifting and falling apart, and where they landed
new worlds would form.

Soon afterward I returned to my native city
and was reunited with my former lover.
And yet increasingly my mind returned to this incident,
studying it from all perspectives, each year more intensely convinced,
despite the absence of evidence, that it contained some secret.
I concluded finally that whatever message there might have been
was not contained in speech—so, I realized, my mother used to speak to me,
her sharply worded silences cautioning me and chastizing me—

and it seemed to me I had not only returned to my lover
but was now returning to the Contessa’s Garden
in which the cherry trees were still blooming
like a pilgrim seeking expiation and forgiveness,

so I assumed there would be, at some point,
a door with a glittering knob,
but when this would happen and where I had no idea.

Missing [3/3]

<< Part 1 >> << Part 2 >> << Part 3 >>

It’s two in the morning before Arthur finally passes out from physical and mental exhaustion. Of course this is a minor victory for Alfred, who’s already managed to convince the guy to take a nice hot shower—as long as he needed—and gave him clothes for the night. Cleaned up and dressed in newer wear than he probably personally owns, Arthur looks almost like an entirely different person. That fact is a little alarming to Alfred, somehow, like he keeps forgetting that the tattered, well-worn hoodie and jeans aren’t just some kind of fashion statement.

Regardless, he takes that opportunity to wash everything, knowing that if Arthur were awake he’d likely protest. It’s four in the morning by the time it’s done drying, but it’s not as though he was going to be able to sleep tonight anyway. 

Not with Arthur in his bed and the half-starved kittens in a box in the corner.

No, attempting to sleep would be moot.

Keep reading

Socrates and Fuckboy: A Dialogue (Part Three)

Chip: Alright, shit. If you want to be a fuckboy about it, I guess I’ll look it up on Urban Dictionary.

Chip searched his pocket for his smartphone and then, phone in hand, he typed away.

Chip: Okay, here: “A fuckboy is a person who is a weak-ass pussy that ain’t ’bout shit.” Sound familiar, fuckboy?

Socrates: I fear this definition only brings about more vagaries and abstractions than before. Might there be another?

Chip: God, you’re a special breed of fuckboy, aren’t you? Okay, here’s another. A fuckboy is a “male who, through petty deception and womanizing, lives the entirety of his life with the sole purpose of engaging in as much sexual intercourse as possible.” Is that clear enough for you?

Socrates: Behold, the definition will suffice, and we now possess a firm layer of rock upon which we may build our analysis, rather than the fluffy bed of abstractions on which we have hitherto relied. How do you propose we begin?

Chip: Dude, what the fuck are you even saying? 

Socrates: Here is what I propose: Since it is you who has made the assertion that I am a fuckboy, the burden of proof falls consequently on your shoulders. Thus, you must show beyond a sliver of doubt how my intentions with dear Jessica resemble those of a fuckboy. Now go forth!

Chip: Okay, that’s easy enough. You were trying to catch a nut with my girl! Jessica’s my girl, dog, and you were tryna hit. That’s pretty goddamn deceptive, if you ask me. 

Socrates: And you are certain that my initial intention with dear Jessica was to, as it were, catch my nut? 

Chip: It’s obvious!

Socrates: And I could not have engaged in conversation with Jessica for any other reason?

Chip: Not a chance, fuckboy.

Socrates: You seem very certain.

Chip: I am.

Socrates: Your outright certainty befuddles me, and I shall explain why: When I first approached Jessica, you were situated at the other end of this bar, speaking with another lady, and unless your ears are of superhuman caliber, there is no way in which you could have heard the content of our conversation.

Chip: Well, no. But—

Socrates: Then for all you were aware, I could have been dear Jessica’s long-lost cousin or a homosexual—or, as is actually the case, an ancient philosopher who, by the esoteric nature of the cosmos, has mysteriously awoken to a new era and who only seeks to continue asking questions for as long as time may allow. But none of these possibilities crossed your mind, or did they?

Chip: No.

Socrates: Then lacking the tangible evidence that would expose my true intentions, you were forced to base your conclusion only on your own intuitions, and these are what provoked you to think of me as a fuckboy, and one who was quite deviously engaged in a plot to steal away Jessica’s affection from under your gaze.

Chip: Yeah, I guess.

Socrates: And this could not be surmised by the intellect, as we have determined, but only by your own intuition. For in the case of a con artist, who through his peripheral vision has spotted a stranger engaging in conversation with a bystander, would this con artist’s first intuition not conclude that the stranger is a con artist himself, in the midst of scamming the innocent bystander? Lacking any further details about the pair’s conversation, would this not be his first thought? Or in the case of a self-obsessed woman who cares for nothing more than the way she appears at any given moment—if this woman were to watch a stranger peer into a mirror, would her intuition not tell her that the stranger’s intent was to seek out any imperfections in her appearance so that they may be righted? The woman has no more details about this stranger, and so these are the intentions she will naturally assume. But in both of these cases, you must acknowledge, there are infinite other intentions that the strangers may possess for their actions. Why, the assumed con artist could merely be asking for directions, and the stranger peering into the mirror may very well be in the midst of a self-revelation.

Chip: Okay, sure. 

Socrates: And in your case, were not your thoughts of my being a fuckboy not filtered through your own intuition, your own character? Did you not apply your own mental makeup to the intentions of the mysterious man speaking to your girlfriend, intentions which, as we have determined, could not have been known by any other means.

Chip: Well yeah, but I mean, I don’t know, yeah I guess.

Socrates: Then behold! We are gazing into the mind of a true fuckboy!

Chip: Wait, what?

Socrates: By your very definition and your acknowledgments, we have discovered the fuckboy in the room, and it is you.

Jessica: Oh my God, Chip. Tell me it isn’t true!

Chip: This guy’s tripping, Jess. He’s trying to trap me. C’mon, we’re going. 

Jessica: Trap you? He’s just asking questions!

Socrates: That is very true.

(…to be continued…)

Follow @zeezyzach to keep up to date on Socrates’ modern adventures

anonymous asked:


You paced around the hallway, walking back and forth for the umpteenth time as you held your phone to your ear in hopes for some sort of response on the other end.  Unfortunately, you’d been trying to call Justin for the past hour, and you were only met with his goddamn voicemail after each call.  You were more pissed than worried, recalling the time he said he wouldn’t miss this (your birthday party, that is) for the world, yet here you were, pacing the hallway of his house with a phone glued to your ear wondering where the hell your boyfriend was.

You heard footsteps approaching, but you didn’t bother hanging up, still intent on getting at least a word from your boyfriend.

“(Y/N), sweetie?” Your mom’s voice called out.

You bit at your thumb nail nervously, only glancing at your mother for a second before rejecting her, “Not now, Mom.  I’m trying to get ahold of Justin.”

“Honey, it’s been an hour.” Your mother reasoned, a sigh escaping her lips.  She stepped over to you slowly, reaching for your phone and setting it down on a nearby bookshelf. “Listen, I don’t want you to worry, but there’s been an accident that they’re talking about in the news.  It’s located not too far from here, and, well, the car they described was a black Escalade and…”

Your eyes shot open wide, horrified at the idea she was giving you.  Could it be?  Did Justin get into an accident on his way home?  You could practically feel your heart trying to escape your chest.

“There were three passengers; two injured, and the other one didn’t make it.  They couldn’t identify who the poor soul was yet, and (Y/N), I’m not at all saying this is your boyfriend, but it might… You know what?  What am I saying?  Justin’s probably fine, he’s just a little caught up at the studio or something.  Listen, baby, this is your day.  Don’t let––”

“I think I need to be alone right now, Mom.” You interrupted, feeling the tears starting to brim your eyes.  You couldn’t explain the pain in your chest, but the last thing you wanted to do was break down in front of your mother.

“I…” She began before nodding, “Okay.  Think positive, baby.”

And with that, she was gone, and you were alone.  The idea of your boyfriend possibly being the one in that accident broke you to pieces.  It felt like someone was physically reaching down your throat to pull your heart from your chest and ripping it to shreds until there was nothing left.  Tears began to fall down your cheeks uncontrollably, and you took a quick glance around the hall before rushing off and heading outside for some fresh air.  

As you ran outside, you accidentally collided with another body.  You looked up at the figure, unable to explain the relief you felt when you saw your boyfriend looking back down at you.

“Oh my God,” You exhaled, clutching onto the fabric of his shirt desperately. “Thank God you’re okay.”

“Of course I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be?” He grinned, placing his hands on either sides of your face to meet your eyes. “Sorry, I’m so late, babygirl, I––hey, why are you crying?”

You sniffled shaking your head as you ran your hands up to his shoulders, “My mom was telling me about this accident that was on the news.  I guess it wasn’t far from here, and the car was a black Escalade, so I just… I thought you were dead.

“Dead?” Justin said in disbelief, “On your birthday?  I don’t think so!”

You giggled softly at his words, happy to find Justin smiling back at you as he ran his thumbs over your damp cheeks.

“The accident was holding up a lot of traffic, so I asked the driver to take a detour, but we kind of ended up getting lost.” He admitted, evidently disappointed with himself. “I left my phone at the studio, so I couldn’t call you.  I’m so sorry, baby, you must’ve been scared out of your mind.”

You shook your head, placing your hands over his as he held your face, “I’m fine now.  I’m just really, really glad you’re okay.”

Justin beamed down at you, smiling fondly before leaning in to kiss your lips. “Oh,” He suddenly pulled away, seeming to have just been snapped out of the moment in an instant. “Before I forget,” he said, digging into his pocket and pulling out a little jewelry box. “Here, happy birthday, baby.”

This is the second part to the little sister’s best friend drabble… Read part one HERE. I hope you like it.

On Klaus’ 21st birthday, he would have been content with getting hammered legally for the first time, at a bar with his mates.

And he planned on doing exactly that.

What he hadn’t planned on was that a low-key affair would not fly with his little sister, or his little sister’s best friend.

When he had stepped through the door of his favourite bar, he had not expected three glitter canons and two confetti guns to pop in his face, nor had he expected a hundred or so familiar faces to fill the place.

“Happy birthday!” they chorused.

“What the bloody hell is this!” Klaus cried, searching for the two blondes he just knew would be responsible.

“It’s your party, you moron,” Rebekah yelled back, over the din. “Now drink, before that scowl of yours ruins all the fun and our hard work.”

The room laughed collectively, and he smiled too, secretly glad.

As the night drew on, Klaus was pleased to report that he did get hammered legally while he enjoyed his friends and family around him.

“Wow, she’s a looker,” one of Klaus’ friends, Stefan, had leered, nodding to where Rebekah and Caroline were sitting.

Both blondes were giggling at an inside joke, completely lost in the world they’d crafted carefully for the past eleven.

“Hang on,” Klaus drunkenly slurred, pointing a threatening finger at his friend. “That’s my sister.”

“I know your sister’s off limits, Klaus,” Stefan leered. “I meant the other one. What I’d do for a piece of her.”

He wasn’t sure whether it was the alcohol or that someone dared smack talk Caroline, but suddenly Klaus leapt from his stool, rage coursing through his veins, and sunk a punch into Stefan’s chiselled jaw.  

“Never talk about her like that,” Klaus growled, through gritted teeth, staring menacingly at his friend. “Never again.”

Klaus glowered from Stefan, to his bleeding knuckles, to the blonde at the centre of the scuffle and his mind. She was still laughing completely oblivious to the trouble she’d caused, and the turmoil that was swirling through him.  


It was a hot summer’s afternoon when a 22-year-old Klaus sat watching that year’s graduating class of Mystic Falls High as they collected their diplomas. His heart swelled as he watched his two favourite blondes walk across the stage, cap and gown donned, and smiles bright.

Keep reading

Common myths and misconceptions about otherkin

i see a lot of people who are making insults on otherkin, and i feel like they dont quite understand it completely

before we continue, for my otherkin friends out there, I’m a forest dragon, as well as fictionkin to bill cipher and invader zim.

Do otherkin try to act like their spiritual self? as in a wolfkin eating raw,uncooked meat, running around in the forest running on all fours?

No. Though some do try to feel as comfortable as they can, not all of us are uncomfortable with our human bodies. Many people misconceive us in this way.

We are trying to feel good in our environment: wolfkin are known for eating more meat than others, but this is natural instinct, as well as dragonkin naturally hoarding, napping and sunbathing. People who are in kin with forest animals usually keep a small garden, too!

Otherkin are known for having natural instincts from their kins and people misconceive that this is us trying to be our soul. Our instincts help us find out our kins, and even our fictionkins!

Do dragonkin really feel the want to consume coins and gems? will they do anything in their power to do so?

As a dragonkin i can tell you this is a myth. Though some do, they know that it is not healthy to eat actual coins and gems, and end up buying chocolate coins and gummy gemstones! though i do not have the want to do this, i can tell you its a myth that we eat real gemstones and coins, and that anyone you saw out there talking about actually doing it may be a troll, or just a seriously weird kin.

Are otherkin the same as furries?

No. Though most otherkin are furries, its because we enjoy representing ourselves as our soul. Otherkin believe their spirits are not human, or are made up of several parts. A full-on, non-kin furry is just making what they believe would be themselves if they where an anthro animal, and thats perfectly fine, too! i love seeing the communities designs, and i like looking at peoples kinsonas!

basically, otherkin ARE their sonas, while furries believe this is what they would look like if they where an animal.

Is otherkin a religion in itself?

This depends on the persons beliefs and opinions! As a ‘christian’ (i believe that all religions exist, and that my past soul decided to reincarnate) otherkin, i can say that some believe it is an add-on to a religion because it does not go against most religious beliefs, but some do see it as its own religion that revolves around reincarnation!

Do people in kin only get attracted to their kintype? as in a dogkin wanting to legitimatly romantically love a dog?

No! Im dragonkin but you dont see me wanting to fall inlove with a dragon, though i would love another dragonKIN. (i’m currently in a relationship with someone who is monsterkin: they are a raven with ram horns and 2 sets of wings)

What the hell are astral limbs? Are they in peoples minds? should i be worried for mental illness if my friend says they have astral limbs?

Astral limbs are kinda a mind thing, but at the same time a spiritual thing. You would expect that our spirits do not fit to our bodies, and our nerves are sensing it and making it feel like something is there. Most amputees feel astral limbs of the limbs they have lost, while otherkin feel limbs that their soul has but not their body. Its just more evidence that a soul exists! Even fictionkin, if they are in kin enough with the character (people separate the kinship with characters into tiers depending on how in-kin they are; tertiary being the least and primary being the most) will feel astral limbs from the character! i had a friend who was pokekin to pikachu, who felt eats and a tail, as well as another cipherkin friend who said she felt a bowtie and the slightest occasional tophat.

The thing most people find is that they have always had these limbs. when i was a child i would move my astral ears to react to things, and now i understand why i had them!

No, you shouldnt worry for mental illness. Otherkin has nothing to do with mental illness, and it has been around since the medieval times, i believe!

Is it true that someone can project out of their body and visit different dimensional planes?

YES this is very true! Ive done it before and its really cool! 

People appear as their soul in the astral plane. We cannot effect anything in our plane, but going to other dimensions, people there CAN see you and you Can effect things. Though ive found most people who are tertiary kin with a character (such as myself with bill cipher) are separate souls from the character, and dont appear as them when they are in that plane. I actually saw bill cipher watching a soap opera in the dreamscape so yeah… pretty sure i didnt pop up as hIM

People say “its hard being otherkin” a lot, and i dont understand what their deal is.

Some people are in kin with demons and monsters as well as villainous characters (like myself) and it effects our emotions and personalities a lot

after a certain point of time i will get irrationally angry, as well as i get dark thoughts and have a sick sense of humor, and i get thoughts of wanting to hurt things, and i get fully aware that this is the cipherkin side speaking.

as well as this, some people feel a bit of emotional pain from it. because of the tumblr community, inanimate objectkin feel like they are fake, and otherkin are put down at every turn, as well as some people have lost friends over it, whether its because they are kin or because their kin is violent or making them too hyper, as well as some winged kin feel stuck on the ground and just want to fly to feel emotional peace.

im hoping this clears up some misconception, and possibly helps some people find their kins! though i know it wont change everyone’s minds, but im hoping it helps some!

I absolutely loved casca. It made my heart happy to see both her and guts develop and end up together. That all said I hope she dies. It puts a knot in my stomach to think about her reaction when sexed by femto. Her kissing him and reaching back to him (though most people say she was too tired to resist) After telling guts not to watch. As I read this knowing it was coming I was ready to despair at casca’s suffering and gutts loss but that’s not at all how i felt it was portrayed. People often cite her broken mind as to evidence as to it being rape but out of everything that has happened in the last 150~ pages I feel she would have lost it already, guts having his rage to protect his mind caska only ever had attitude and that’s not a good bulwark to the insanity and level of demented shit she witnessed. She used guts as she never really loved.him and caused him more pain than anyone barring Griffith and now I just think she deserves to die and for me it can’t happen soon enough.

I never write anymore.

In fact, I write so little that I’ve come here to write this entry and failed several times in a row.

But I used to write, all of the time and about everything. I poured my heart out into journals, ‘crafted’ poetry, wrote witty Yelp reviews, had a penpal. I was an English and psychology double major, and there were plenty of papers to write every semester.

I don’t write like this anymore because of medical school and because of depression and now I am feeling that skill wane and slip out of grasp. I feel fractured without it. I feel like I am always choking on words when I sit down to write anything, even simple posts here. It makes everything more difficult, like that evidence-based case report I nearly lost my mind over (but I got a 9.9/10, ?thanks to ?despite the late-night crazy and the ugly cries).

I feel like I need to start writing again before I lose that piece of me.

I’ve also watched my classmates have their blogs turned into columns and their writing win awards, and I’ve realized I want that for myself. I don’t know what kind of commitment I would have to make to get myself to where I want to be, but I do know that writing about the lack of writing helps.

I’ve been putting off studying for the last 4 hours, and I should probably learn something about gynecology before I go to the outpatient office all day tomorrow. But I’m glad I’m putting this out there.

Aizen and Yhwach argue about which of them *really* planned it all

Author’s choice list. :)

So….I got caught up on Bleach finally. Don’t get excited - it won’t last. And if *you’re* not caught up, better stop reading, because there be spoilers ahead! Anyway. I couldn’t help but notice how similar was Yhwach’s declaration that all of Ichigo’s battles had secretly been for Yhwach all along and Aizen’s declaration that he planned all of Ichigo’s battles all along. So what if Aizen and Yhwach got to argue about which of them has REALLY been in control of Ichigo this whole time? 

Yhwach: There is no argument to be had.

Yhwach: My blood runs in Ichigo’s veins, and therefore, all of his decisions have benefited me.

Aizen: Yes, because all people who are related are solely controlled by what will benefit their relatives.

Aizen: That is a thing. A thing that happens.

Yhwach: My blood is special and you know it.

Aizen: Oh sure. You SAY it is.

Aizen: But isn’t that a little…convenient? Claiming that your blood means that all of Kurosaki’s decisions are for your benefit? There’s no way to prove that. No way to argue against it. It’s just something you say.

Aizen: Whereas when *I* claimed that I had PLANNED everything that happened to Kurosaki, I had evidence! Secret cameras! Planning sessions! Witnesses!

Aizen: My claim to have planned everything is WAY more legit than your claim that your blood is super magical decision making blood!

Yhwach: You lost your right to claim super planning skills when you kidnapped Orihime and then changed your mind and said it was all about Ichigo.

Aizen: I didn’t change my mind! I just revealed more information later!

Yhwach: Literally nobody believes that.

Aizen: And you think people believe YOU?!

Aizen: Kurosaki DECIDED to constantly wear dorky shirts. Was that your blood? Tell me, how did that benefit you?

Yhwach: It meant that he did not get a girlfriend, and so wasn’t distracted.

Aizen: …

Aizen: What about Kuorsaki joining the soccer team? Does your BLOOD love soccer?

Yhwach: It is very important that Ichigo stay in shape.

Aizen: Okay, then what about those sideburns that Kurosaki decided to grow, how are THOSE…

Yhwach: [looks at Aizen from over his magnificent sideburns]

Aizen: Okay never mind.

Yhwach: You cannot defeat me with words, Aizen Sosuke.

Yhwach: Especially not when I have the ace.

Yhwach: My manipulation of Kurosaki Ichigo WORKED. Unlike yours.

Yhwach: And I have a dead soul king to prove it.

Aizen: You assume my plan is finished? So foolish.

Yhwach: If your plan is not over, then it is so ridiculously convoluted that no one will buy it.

Aizen: I’m sorry, but didn’t you say that everything that has happened to Kurosaki so far has been in preparation for killing the Soul King?

Aizen: Sounds pretty convoluted to me!

Aizen: And way to take credit for MY work, by the way!

Aizen: Talk about rude.

Yhwach: Yes, it was all in preparation for Ichigo killing the Soul King.

Yhwach: Which is now complete.

Yhwach: Therefore, if your plan goes on longer, it is more convoluted. By definition.

Aizen: Riiiiiight, ‘cause your plan is super over.

Aizen: Manga’s gonna end in the next chapter.

Aizen: You win. No twists and turns left.

Yhwach: …

Aizen: That’s what I thought.

Aizen: And not to get all schoolyard about it, but I did say that it was all my plan *first*.

Yhwach: “First” does not matter. 

Yhwach: I am the big bad now. I get to claim that everything is according to my design.

Yhwach: You’re just some guy in prison. You claim nothing.

Aizen: I claim that the fans get more excited by my name in one chapter than by anything you’ve ever done.

Yhwach: That is temporary. They will see that I am badass in the end.

Aizen: Look, we’re getting off track here. The point is, no matter what your blood wanted, I was the one actively controlling Kurosaki.

Aizen: So I win.

Yhwach: And all of your so-called controlling did nothing but benefit me. Because that is what my blood wants.

Yhwach: So I win.

Aizen: I hate your blood.

Yhwach: And I am not wild about your hair lock.

Aizen: So good we didn’t work together.

Yhwach: Yeah, probably for the best.

Hearing Kris's first solo song "Time Boils The Rain" and I just...


 This is really the first time I felt and mean it. I’ve nothing against the other boys, just that I’m so proud of him. The company truly held him back, but now he’s free to show everyone what he’s really made of.

Can’t sing my ass. Why did they give him little to no lines and have him just rap when HIS SINGING ACTUALLY SOUNDS SO HEAVENLY? HE COULD HAVE BEEN IN THE VOCAL LINE IN EXO IF THEY’VE LET HIM. SM, you have lost an asset you clearly have done nothing but take advantage of

SO PROUD OF KRIS AND ALL THAT HE’S BEEN WORKING ON. Not only that, it’s evident that he seems happier, and looks more healthy since the time he officially “betrayed” and left the group/company. I love him even more now that he is finally doing what’s right for himself. 

And no amount of “sympathy” or bad rumors the media keeps making up against him will change my mind. :)

anonymous asked:

do you have any Ben Winston receipts proving he's trash?? my friend is defending him but I have no specific evidence to rebuttal and I don't know where to find any ):<

I’d rather not use the word trash, however…

Those are a few tweet examples. Also, he’s decided to make Harry the center of all the videos (which, well. 5 boys.), has cost Zayn high-note shots in videos, makes overall low quality videos, thinks they’re the best videos ever, puts his name at the beginning, is a pompous ass about it and….


honestly, he should have lost his job just for that. That, in my mind, is more than enough, not to mention he’s just an overall jerkface.

Based on this post

“You’ve got my flowers,” a deep, gravelly voice says coldly, and Dean freezes, caught. He’s got the bright yellow pansies in hand and he has no idea how to fix this. “Now what are you going to do?”

Shit, shit, shit, shit!

He turns around and meets the burning blue gaze of Castiel Novak.


This is exactly what he’s been trying to avoid. He’d buy the flowers from the boutique down the street, but he can’t exactly afford it. Everything he has is going towards Sammy’s schooling and keeping himself afloat. All he needs is a couple flowers every other week….

“Well? I’m waiting.”

Dean blinks, heart pounding behind his ears.

“Umm… I, uh… they- they’re for–”

Castiel waits, brow arched and arms folded across his chest.

“It’s a girl, isn’t it?” he says gruffly. Dean can’t say anything. What can he say? “Well, let’s go, then.”

“I- what?”

“If this is to be a regular occurrence, then I insist on meeting the girl pretty enough to warrant flower theft.” He holds out a hand and Dean hesitantly takes it as Castiel helps him to his feet. “If you’ve finished mangling my garden, I’d like to meet this girl, now.”

The dark haired, blue eyed man then promptly turns on his heel and marches directly over towards Dean’s car. Dean wonders as he numbly follows Castiel how he hadn’t been caught sooner; the Impala isn’t exactly quiet.

The ride, however, is.

Dean’s not entirely sure how to tell the other man where they’re going. How exactly do you tell a guy that you’re stealing his flowers to just leave them lying around for someone who’s never going to see them.

Castiel just sits in the front seat, arms crossed and staring ahead. He doesn’t loo at Dean and he doesn’t try to make conversation. He just sits there quietly, and Dean doesn’t even try to turn on the music; he’s not sure how Castiel will react to anything at this point.

It isn’t until they pull up to the cemetery that Castiel finally looks at him, brow furrowed in confusion. Dean avoids his gaze, staring at the steering wheel as he kills the car. He waits a moment and takes a deep breath, then grabs the small bouquet and gets out, Castiel following him slowly and without a word.

They stop in front of a headstone, and the engraving is simple, but endearing and perfect….

Just like the person it’s written for.

Mary Winchester

Loving Daughter, Wife, and Mother


Castiel stops several feet behind him as he kneels down in front of the headstone.

“Hey, Mom,” he says softly so Castiel doesn’t hear him. “Sorry I’m late… got kinda hung tied up. Got you the flowers, though… your favorite.” He gently places them against the gravestone and grabs the old, dead, withered ones away from the site. “Might not be able to get any new ones for a while, but don’t worry. I’ll figure it out.” He gently brushes his fingers over her name reverently. “Love you, Mom.”

Castiel watches as Dean gets up and dusts off his knees and grabs the dead flowers from the ground.

He doesn’t know what to say when Dean turns around. Beyond the stoic expression, there’s pain in his eyes, deep and profound and Castiel’s heart breaks.

He quietly follows Dean back to the car.

As he gets in, Dean closes his eyes and rests his forehead against the steering wheel, taking several deep breaths.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says softly.

“S'fine,” Dean replies. “She died when I was six, so it’s something I’ve learned t'deal with. Doesn’t make it any easier, though.”

“How… may I ask what happened?”

“House fire. Dad got me, Sammy ‘n’ Adam out but he couldn’t get to Mom in time and she couldn’t get out.” He shrugs, but it’s evident on his face that it still hurts.

Castiel swallows and thinks of his own mother, Amelia. If he and Claire had lost her the way Dean and his brothers lost their mother….

“Why don’t you just buy the flowers, if you don’t mind my asking.”

Dean shrugs again.

“Can’t really afford it,” he mumbles. “Sorry about the ‘mangling your garden’ thing, but, man… you’ve got a shit ton of flowers. I didn’t think you’d notice if one or two went missing every two weeks.”

“To be honest, I wouldn’t have,” he admits, “if the disappearing flowers weren’t disappearing from the same area.”

Dean chuckles.

“Sorry 'bout that,” he says. “I’ll stop, seriously. I’ll figure something else out.” He leans back in his seat and opens his wallet. There’s a picture of a beautiful blonde woman, a small child at her side, a toddler on her knee and an infant in her arms. The picture is faded and the edges worn, but it is well preserved. Castiel sighs.

“No,” he says, “you won’t.”

Dean looks up sharply at him, a hard look in his eyes.

“Yeah, I will. If there’s anything I’m good at, it’s makin’ sure those damned flowers get there, and I ain’t about to–”

“I know,” Castiel interrupts. “All I’m saying is that I’d be happy to donate the flowers to your mother.” He pauses thoughtfully, then continues. “I only have two conditions: One, please, come to me beforehand. I’d like to help you, if that’s alright.”

Dean blinks at him, obviously startled at the direction this had taken.

“Wh- yeah. Dude, yeah, thanks,” he says, reeling. “That’d be awesome…. What, uh… what’s the other?”

Castiel blushes and ducks his head sheepishly.

“It’s more of a request than a condition,” he admits.

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

He looks up and shyly meets the emerald green gaze searching his face.

“A date?”

Dean looks at him, then grins a bright, straight toothed smile.

“Hell yeah, dude.”

Three years later, Cas and Dean revisit Mary’s grave, but, this time, Dean isn’t being escorted by a scorned neighbor. Instead, he’s visiting his mother with his new husband, Castiel Novak-Winchester.

Dean doesn’t have to steal the flowers anymore. He and Cas take them together, every week, and Castiel thanks Mary Winchester for giving him such a wonderful and loving husband.

For Love and Justice

Super late for this, but that’s what I get for living on the West Coast. I got a request for ‘Detective Klaus with Caroline as an FBI profiler’ years ago, and I had the outline but never wrote it. Thought I’d dust it off for today, enjoy!

So far, Detective Klaus Mikaelson definitely hadn’t had enough coffee.

It was his own goddamn fault, he should have been well used to days like these, the ones that started bad and just got worse. Somehow, his experiences still hadn’t taught him to drink that extra cup (with maybe something just a little stronger added) before coming into work.

And today, he really could’ve used it.

“What’ve we got Salvatore?”

His partner stood up from where he’d been crouched over their latest victim, looking typically wracked with guilt, like he was going to take this one to heart. Klaus would’ve been more worried except he’d seen Stefan do this to himself a dozen times over, and the best thing to help his partner was to work the case and catch the bastard – if they could.

The alley was dank and smelled foul, the corpse in the center not helping matters. “Female vic, 24 years old, name’s Jessica Taylor. We found her purse nearby, driver’s license inside, Donovan’s contacting the family.”

Stefan paused, looking reluctant to say what came next. Klaus was running on little to no sleep and really had no time for this. “Spit it out Salvatore,” he snapped.

“It’s him again.”

Fuck. He really needed that extra cup of coffee.

Stefan’s words cleared the tiredness from his head and Klaus bent down next to the victim, noting the ugly bruises on her neck. He looked to her arm which lay bent on the pavement, and written in red ink was a familiar name, and it took all his experience to not become nauseous. The girl had the usual dark hair, the physical resemblance to four other young women, all of whom had been in this situation, all of whom had been killed by this sick son of a bitch that he had failed to catch.

“It’s definitely Silas,” Klaus muttered, as though Stefan might have been wrong. He knew that wasn’t the case, Stefan knew the Silas murders as well as he did, but there was some gnawing desperate hope in his gut that the killings weren’t becoming more frequent, that the people of New York weren’t getting more desperate.

That hope was viciously killed.

“Alright, get Donovan to canvass the area, we’ll let the crime techs see if they can find anything   –    and can we please get the bloody press off our backs?!” Klaus’s last request was directed at the woman who was now striding towards them, straight backed and with a fiercely determined glint in her eye that Klaus associated with reporters looking for their headlines. She was dressed sharply, black trench exposing long legs that the detective would’ve spent any other day appreciating. But today, he really didn’t have time for vultures.

“Excuse me Miss, you’re contaminating a crime scene,” Stefan started politely, but the woman simply smiled and pulled a badge.

“Oh, I’m not a reporter. Caroline Forbes, FBI.”

Klaus didn’t bother to hold back a groan. The Silas Murders were getting worse, but the department had a handle on every case and the last thing he needed was some Fed coming in and sticking her pretty little nose in where it didn’t belong.

“Turn around and tell your people that we don’t need a babysitter,” he growled out, turning his back on the woman as if she’d disappear.

“Excuse me?!”

No such luck then.

Caroline rounded the body so that she stood opposite him, irritation blazing in her eyes. “My people sent me here because your people had four dead girls – five now – and you haven’t been able to do a damn thing about it. I’m not here to babysit you, I’m here to catch a killer, and if you have a problem with that, you can take it up with your boss.”

She was absolutely firm in her resolve, blue eyes blazing, daring him to defy her. He took a moment to look her over critically, perfect blonde hair with not a strand out of place, not a speck of dirt on her coat, nails manicured. If there was a Detective Barbie, she’d be the spitting image of it. Klaus couldn’t imagine the woman in front of him ever getting her hands dirty, and he was willing to bet she’d spent  all her time at the FBI sitting at a desk doing paperwork.

“And how exactly are you supposed to help us, love?” he asked sardonically.

“First of all, I’m not your love, it’s ‘Agent Forbes to you,” she said sharply, ignoring his smirk. “And secondly, I happen to be a Profiler. You obviously need one.”

“We’ll see about that,” Klaus said sourly. “You barely look like you could catch a mugger, let alone a serial killer.”

“And you barely look like you got out of bed this morning,” she snarled back.

Klaus sneered, ready to get her away from the crime scene himself when Stefan walked up to them, hanging up his phone.

“That was Captain Saltzman,” he said in a low voice to Klaus. “He said the Feds wanted her on this case and we have to play nice.” He shot a small smile at the Agent and extended his hand. “I’m Stefan Salvatore,” he said politiely.

Caroline shook his hand, smiling back warmly. “Pleasure to meet you,” she said. The niceness dropped and she looked back at Klaus, eyebrow arched. “Are we going to have a problem, detective?”

Klaus smiled with no humour. “Not at all, agent.

Fantastic,” she said, “now, tell me about our victim.”

Keep reading

Saw something really interesting on my dash so I just wanted to share a little snippet of it

“When have celebrities EVER confirmed their relationship when they were first accused of having one? I distinctly remember a very famous woman giving an interview to a huge magazine saying she “didn’t want” and “didn’t need” the costar she was rumored to be with, and now they’re married with so many kids I lost count. NOBODY IS GONNA CONFIRM ANYTHING until there’s photo evidence, and probably not even then, since it’s their privacy at stake here, which is totally understandable”

Just take a wild guess who popped up in my mind…..*cough cough*