eye of the whoever

Blue had spent a good portion of her time alone crying over what had happened, but of course not wanting the rest of the house to see her like this. She’d finally found herself leaving her room, wanting to just relax in the jacuzzi and clear her mind as sat there in the steaming water. Her eyes flickered up still slightly reddened to whoever had come outside to use the tub, putting on a small smile. “Hey.”

i always like to imagine shiro trying to romance allura using earth flirting techniques but all of them majorly failing because she’s an alien and doesn’t understand like

shiro: hey there….baby
allura: why are you calling me an infant

**
shiro: *playfully covers allura’s eyes* guess who?
allura: whoever you are, you have thirty tics to unhand me or i swear i will-

**

shiro: slow dance with me, princess?
allura: *does the altean equivalent of the macarena at 1/3 the speed rather confusedly*

Baby Girl (Jungkook/Reader)

Prompt: May I request a Jungkook smut in which you are bf and he has always seen you just as a kid because you’re younger than him. He doesn’t mind being shirtless around you or you hearing him talk about the last night’s girl with a friend. To the point of you getting so frustrated about him not treating you as a woman and plainly thinking of you as his cute and innocent girl friend that one day you start dry humping him saying something along the lines: do I still look that innocent to you (oppa)? thx

Genre: Smut, Slight Angst, Slight Humor, College!Au, Best Friends!Au

Words: 3.5K+

Author: Admin Nan

Summary: It was a boiling summer day you realized your attraction for the cute, older boy next door. 

Tags: Swearing, Dry humping, Thigh riding, Sub!Kook, Oppa, Park Jimin - Reader Discretion is advised.

Originally posted by jeonsshi


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If you think you’re worthless, stop scrolling right now and read.

I’m writing this for a specific mutual, but it isn’t only true for one person, so read on.

You know those inspirational posts you see people reblog every day?

Stuff about people all throughout history who failed and went bankrupt and were depressed and were told they weren’t good enough - and yet somehow they rose above it and defied all those notions to become heroes and legends and history makers and culture movers. And the post always ends with “so don’t be hard on yourself when you mess up” and it’s all nice and sweet and pretty. Maybe you scroll past them. Maybe you hardly ever see them on your dash at all.

Maybe you’re among those who reblogs these posts.

But maybe every time you hit the reblog or the like button, your brain is whispering “this isn’t about you” and “yes people can do amazing things, but not you” and “ah yes amazing stories, too bad it will never happen to you” and you listen to these whisperings and you laugh and shake your head…

Because you know exactly where you stand: worthless. irredeemable. a loser. a lost cause.

Please.

Please.

Listen to me.

As your friend.

As a stranger who doesn’t know you. Who doesn’t have to know you, or your failings, or your depression, or your anxiety, or your embarrassments, or your deepest darkest most heinous crimes.

Stop.

Just stop.

Look up. Look around you. Open. Your. Eyes. Are they open? Good. Keep them open. Don’t ever close them again. See the world. See you: a human being, valid, flawed, journeying, changing, growing, scraping, failing, rising, a masterpiece that will never be made again.

You are beautiful. You who think you are overweight and lazy. You are beautiful. You who think you are stupid and uneducated. You are beautiful. You who think you are a loser, and amount to nothing. You are beautiful. You who bleed and ache and never rest. You are beautiful.

You have worth.

Want to know a secret? If you wake up in the morning and tell yourself you’re not going to amount to anything that day, then you aren’t going to. If you go to bed at night thinking nothing will change tomorrow, then you are going to change nothing.

Because you’ve resigned yourself to that lie. And it is a lie, friend. A straight-out, soul-condemning, out-of-the-pit, self-deprecating, self-pitying lie. A lie you don’t have to believe. A lie you should not believe.

If you stand in the corner and bow your head and stare at the ground, you’ve already lost the battle without fighting. This is a surrender in which there is no honor, and in it there is no hope.

Life isn’t easy, friend. Life isn’t fair. It’s hard. And getting things done is hard. Some days, just getting up out of bed is hard. Just breathing. Just doing homework. Just going to work. Just trying to keep the dishes and trash from overflowing.

But we do it anyway.

Why? Because there’s life to live. There are choices to be made. Jokes to laugh at. Awkward conversations to be had. Art to mess up and start over on. Jobs to work. Pizza to be eaten.

We do it anyway.

So guess what?

You do it anyway too.

Why? Because of this:

You are special.

Right now, this second, turn off the voice that hears these Disney-fied words and scoffs and ignores them. Listen.

There is not a human being who has ever lived or ever will live on this planet that is not important, that is not here for a reason. No life is worthless, and most certainly not yours. My God doesn’t make worthless things, and he doesn’t make mistakes. There are no extra pieces in this universe, no spare parts. He made you. And he made you for a purpose, and that purpose is not to sit in your room, afraid to try, afraid to love, afraid to hope, afraid to climb and fall and hurt and get back up again.

Want to know another secret? You aren’t alone. Every single human being in the history of everything has struggled with feeling worthless at some point in their life. Every single one. That is not a lie. Your feelings of worthlessness are not what is special about you. You are what is special about you. The God who created you is what is special about you.

No matter what you’re going through, no matter what you’ve done, no matter what you have failed to do, someone else has gone through worse. Sometimes, a lot worse.

Oh, now you feel invalidated. “Why can’t I just believe in myself? Other people have it worse, I shouldn’t complain, I should just try harder, but I know trying harder isn’t going to help, so what’s the point.”

Guess what?

Stop that too.

Stop it dead in its tracks.

Kill that thought. Every day. Every morning. Every minute it shows its ugly lying face. Kill it and put it to rest. Stack headstones on top of it and move away, far far way, friend.

Don’t tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about. I don’t know where you’ve been, but you don’t know where I’ve been either. Don’t ignore hope because you think it’s for other people. Don’t keep yourself from making an effort, and pushing yourself forward. Bury the lie. You have worth. You are loved. You are important. God does not make worthless things.

One of my favorite lyrics says “How does it end when the war that you’re in is just you against you against you? You’ve got to learn to love, learn to love your enemies too.”

Learn to love.

Your enemy.

Yourself.

Start learning to see you the way God sees you.

See you the way I see you.

Perfect.

Worthwhile.

Amazing.

Just at the very beginning.

Every single day you wake up is a brand new start.

A bright new chance. Every. Single. One. You will never stop getting chances for as long as you are here, so why dismiss them? Isn’t that the most beautiful thing there is? You get to keep trying. Every single day. You have the gift to go again, try again, start again, live again, breathe again, hope again.

Guess what. When the morning is wasted, the afternoon is still there. When the afternoon is wasted, the evening is still there. When the evening is wasted, the night is still there. And then morning comes again.

So the next time you see a motivational post, an inspiring reblog, a story about how someone overcame something horrible, and turned it into something amazing, look long and hard and take courage, find hope in that. Stop dismissing it as being from a universe you have no part in. Stop putting yourself to that measuring stick and turning away because you’re not there yet.

You’re looking at the end result. At some point, they were standing in your shoes. They couldn’t see the end. They couldn’t see what they might or might not amount to. They had no idea, just like you now. Just exactly like you.

Hope, my friend. Every time you start to think “I can/will never” do this or that or amount to anything or accomplish anything… Hope. Stop those thoughts immediately. Kill them. Bury them. Never stop burying them. They are lies and you are better than them.

Drive them out. Open your eyes. Look around. Pick yourself up. Brush away the tears. “I will try. My God doesn’t make worthless things, so I am not worthless. My God does not create without meaning, so I have meaning. I am here for a reason. Today I will live to find out what that reason is for today. And tomorrow I will hope again.”

Life is hard, my friend. Stop beating yourself up. You are worth more and capable of more than you can ever imagine or hope or dream. Don’t let your past or present failures stop you or beat you down. Keep going, keep hoping, keep killing the lies. You are bigger than them, you go beyond them. And God is greater, and he knows your heart. Trust him. Wake up. Open your eyes. Move forward. Keep your eyes open.



“You’ve got all that emotion that’s heaving like an ocean
And you’re drowning in a deep, dark well
I can hear it in your voice that if you only had a choice
You would rather be anyone else

I love you just the way that you are
I love the way He made your precious heart

Be kind to yourself
Be kind to yourself

I know it’s hard to hear it when that anger in your spirit
Is pointed like an arrow at your chest
When the voices in your mind are anything but kind
And you can’t believe your Father knows best

I love you just the way that you are
I love the way He’s shaping your heart

Be kind to yourself
Be kind to yourself

Well how does it end when the war that you’re in
Is just you against you against you
Gotta learn to love, learn to love
Learn to love your enemies too

You can’t expect to be perfect
It’s a fight you’ve gotta forfeit
You belong to me whatever you do
So lay down your weapon, darling
Take a deep breath and believe that I love you

Be kind to yourself
Be kind to yourself
Be kind to yourself

Gotta learn to love, learn to love
Learn to love your enemies
Gotta learn to love, learn to love
Learn to love your enemies too

What’s up, it’s Alexei!

When Ngozi posted this picture yesterday of young post-draft Tater “trying his darnedest to answer press questions in English,” I thought, “You know, I could make a play fic out of that.” Which is what led to the following 2700+ words about Tater and his ESL tutor.

Many, many thanks to @ktheunready for being my Russian authenticity consultant and beta!


Georgia Martin stood at the back of the media scrum and watched Alexei Mashkov stumble his way through his post-draft interview, saw the way his fingers kneaded the brim of the brand-new Falconers’ cap he’d been handed for the initial official photos, saw the way his eyes widened and stayed intently glued to whoever was asking him a question, like he was afraid he’d miss some key bit of meaning if he blinked.

She pulled out her phone and made a call.

***

«No, Mama, I promise, my room is very nice. The family is very nice. Everything is very…»

«Let me guess, nice? »

Alexei sighed. «Yes.»

«You know I don’t doubt you, right, Alyosha? I’m not worried you can’t do this. You will be fine. But I know this is your first time to live in another country, with none of the boys from your teams here. It can be… hard, sometimes. I know.»

«Yeah, Mama, I know. You told me.»

«Are you telling me you’ve heard the stories of my youth too many times?» she asked in mock outrage.

«No, no!» he laughed. «Of course not.»

«Good. I should think not.» He could picture her face exactly, and it made him smile. «I’m glad your host family seems nice, Alyosha. I’m sure you will have many friends in no time.»

He flopped back on the bed again and stared at the ceiling. «I hope so.»

«We’ll talk again soon. Love you, son.»

«Love you, too.»

He hung up and let his phone rest on his chest. He’d been to America before. He’d thought he’d known what it would be like, that it wouldn’t be so bad. Different, yes, but there would be so many interesting new things to see, and new teammates, and he certainly knew how to play hockey. What he had failed to take into account, apparently, was how exhausting it was to try to function in English all day. For a US hockey team, the Falconers’ roster was shockingly low on Russian players, so his host family was one of the French Canadian ones. To their credit, they did speak some Russian, but it was hardly enough to have a real conversation. Alexei felt like he’d been practically mute all day.

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6

hoseok is honestly the most beautiful most gorgeous guy and i’m in love with him 💞✨

10

I made this for my own amusement and entertainment.
Of course tomorrow the place will be plastered with better quality captures, but for tonight, whoever need this, feast your eyes on freshly Misha Collins pictures.
Even in low resolution this man is killing me.
Now, the mandatory cold shower after the manipulation of Misha… Pictures.
Ok bye

Dare - Peter Parker

Dare - ((Tom Holland)) Peter Parker x Reader | 3rd Person 

Prompt: What happens when (Y/N) can’t refuse a dare, and she takes it too far?

a/n: THIS IS MY LONGEST IMAGINE YET AND I’M SO HAPPY WITH IT!! also thank you for all the love on my last 3 imagines! and yes, the ladder part is based on the scenes in nerve!


(Y/N) didn’t know how her reputation came about. It started as a single dare, to which she completed. The one dare turned into five, five turned into 15, and eventually turned into 154 completed dares. Every dare she finished, one of her friends took a picture. (Y/N)’s wall was full of pictures, each with a date and dare name.

Now she was in the same situation. (Y/N) was sitting in a room with her friends, playing the infamous truth or dare. It came to her turn and obviously she chose dare. It didn’t come as a surprise, yet everyone cheered. (Y/N)’s friend smirked and ushered her out of the room. Once (Y/N) was gone, her friends begun to discuss the dare.

Every time (Y/N) was assigned a dare, it was her friends’ mission to make sure she couldn’t complete it. They called (Y/N) back in the room and one friend stood, beginning to announce the dare. “You, (Y/N) (Y/L), have to meet and take a picture with…” they paused, “Spiderman.”

(Y/N) felt her eyes widen, and looked over to her friend Peter, who stood with a slight fear in his eyes, though she couldn’t pinpoint what the fear was for exactly. Nonetheless, she had to manage to track down, meet, and take a picture with Spiderman. Spiderman was elusive. Even though she lived in New York, (Y/N) had only ever seen him once. She didn’t even know what to do.

“How much time do I have?” (Y/N) asked, feeling anxiety bubbling in her stomach.

“You have,” The friend turned around and asked everyone else, “5 days.”

“5 days!?” (Y/N) was beyond livid, “You are fucking joking!”

“Sorry (Y/N), I guess you can’t complete this dare.” They said, smirking.


It had been three days already, and (Y/N) was getting desperate. She tried to do some petty crimes like stealing, but Spiderman wouldn’t come unless it was an emergency. (Y/N) figured he had better things to do than try and stop a high schooler from stealing.

Day four. She had one day left. Her reputation was on the line. Not only her reputation was, it seemed like her life was. Everything she had was built on this persona of fearlessness and bravery. Her friends, the way she carried herself, her confidence, even her family knew. It was pretty silly, but it was true.

She thought back to a previous dare. (Y/N) had jumped across from the roof of her apartment complex to another building. That was the first, and only, time she had seen Spiderman. He was there and jumped down, thinking she had been trying to commit suicide. It was actually his web, which had pushed her to the other building, that had helped her complete that dare.

She called up everyone and told them to meet her at her apartment building. And to bring a ladder. Everyone soon came, and (Y/N) explained the plan. She went to the top of the apartment complex and took the ladder. With help from friends on the other side, they steadied the ladder so it was suspended between the two buildings.

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andreil: baltimore

happy baltimore day! here’s my contribution to fandom on this beautiful day, the day neil josten is finally in the system to become a real person

“Thank you. You were amazing.”

The words echo in Andrew’s head as soon as they leave Neil’s mouth. He doesn’t say anything else, but Andrew can tell there’s something more he’s itching to get out. There’s something in his eyes, something in the way they flicker from the rest of the foxes to Andrew, that stops Andrew from pressing for more. This isn’t the place, not right now. Maybe on the bus. They have all the time in the world for answers. And Neil promised Andrew anything for shutting down the goal.

As they’re shepherded out and towards the bus, the chaos that surrounds the team jostles Andrew and he blindly follows the orange uniforms. He can’t look out for the others, for Neil, and he spares a moment to hope that they’re capable enough to survive one rowdy crowd. As long as Kevin makes it to the bus, it’ll be okay. Andrew isn’t responsible for anyone else’s safety. Neil isn’t under his protection anymore.  

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scars [peter parker]

Originally posted by peterparkerimagine


warnings: mentions of sex, heavy make out, a bit of sadness in the beginning

request: @pradabiatch655 

word count: 1655


    Today had been one of the worst days of your life.

    It had started out just like any other day, you walked to school beside your boyfriend of two years, Peter Parker. The two of you always walked to school every morning, seeing as you lived in apartments that were close together. It was almost like a tradition for the two of you; meeting at the corner of the two of your building, before walking the fifteen minutes it took to get to school.

    Once the two of you had arrived at school, everything went downhill, fast.

    The moment you stepped into your first period class, your stomach had turned sideways, feeling as though your guts were turning themselves inside out. It felt as though something bad was going to happen as soon as you sat in your desk.

    And something bad was happening, indeed.

    Sitting in the cold, wooden desk aside Peter, you lowered your arm so that you could grab ahold of your bag. Pulling out a pencil, you straightened your back and relaxed into the seat. Raising your eyes, you noticed your teacher standing at the front of the room, a stack of paper in his hands.

    Pop quiz.

    An hour later, there were tears in your eyes, as you knew that you had down awful on the quiz. With the grade that you already had, this quiz would have decided your grade for the next few weeks.

    And that was not the end of the story.

    By the end of the school day, you had taken three tests, been bullied by the most popular girls in school, and tripped into the mud outside the school’s front doors on the way home. Now, you stood in front of Peter’s apartment, tears in your eyes. The cold, salty tears stung your dulled eyes as you knocked on his front door. Peter opened a few moments later, his body wrapped in a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. His wide eyes scanned your shivering frame before he was immediately grabbing you by your waist. He pulled you into his chest, strong arms wrapping around your hips. You inhaled his familiar scent as he pulled you closer to his chest, something that seemed almost impossible. The teen in front of you seemed sympathetic, his eyes filled with sadness and his heart filled with hurt.

    If Peter was being honest, when he saw the tears in your eyes, he was filled with a sudden rage. He wanted to find whoever had done this to you and use his newfound powers to show them that they should never hurt you. The teenage, human spider hated that you were in pain, even if it were not physical.

    Peter pulled you out of the rain, his grip never leaving your body. He pulled you into his apartment with strong hands guiding you to his room. He ducked past his Aunt May, trying to avoid her pestering questions, wanting nothing more than to get you warm and happy.

    When he reached his room, he grabbed a pair of his old sweats and a large shirt of his. He handed them to you, not uttering a word before gently pushing on the small of your back. He pushed you towards his bathroom, letting you get changed out of your wet clothes and into his fresh, warm ones. While you changed, Peter moved across his room, turning on his television screen. He let the vibrant screen play quietly in the background of his room for a few moments before he grabbed a movie beside the television. He pushed it into the slot of the screen before moving back to his bedside, moving the blankets and bunching them up in order to make part of a fort.

    When you exited Peter’s bathroom, you were surprised to see what he had done. Your eyes scanned the small room and laid them upon Peter’s figure; he was sorting the blankets and pushing pillows to the side of his bed so that there would be room for the two of you.

    Making a sound from the back of your throat, you alerted Peter of your presence. The teen turned his attention in your direction, his eyes immediately falling upon your frame. His chocolate brown eyes took in your broken stature; scrubby, red eyes, sunken-in frame, and wet, knotted hair.

    “Oh, baby,” Peter spoke sadly, moving the distance to take you back into his arms. He let your forehead fall against his broad chest, new tears soaking his sweatshirt. Peter rubbed small circles into your back, his head laying atop of yours, breathing in your scent. He let you cry for a few more minutes before he pulled you towards his bed. He layed you down in front of him, letting him lay behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you back into him. The position felt natural, as if he were meant to lay beside you.

    For the next hour or so, you and Peter cuddled into each other and watched movies, letting you get more comfortable.

    While you were focused on the movie, you did not see Peter watching you. You did not notice Peter’s eyes as he scanned your face with adoration in his eyes. He watched your eyes as they crinkled when you laughed, and the way that your lips curled at the end when you smiled. His eyes shined and reflected immense happiness when you smiled, grinning happily when you did. His eyes roamed every inch of your face, from the scars and lines. He knew that you did not like the scars and acne marks on your face. You claimed that they were ugly; that they made you look different and not perfect.

    But Peter thought differently.

    He thought the marks made you beautiful. He thought they made you look strong; as if you had survived through hell and much more. Peter thought that scars were not a sign of imperfection; they were a sign of strength and beauty. He loved the scars on your body, even if you did not.

    Lifting his hand, he let the tip of his index finger trail along the scar behind your ear, dropping it to follow the short line to its end. He moved his hand again, towards another one of your scars. It was one caused by acne, a scar that you hated because it was on your face, right underneath your cheekbone.

    When you felt the tip of his finger trail across his face, you turned, watching Peter as he stared at your face. His chocolate brown orbs gazed into your eyes, taking in every feature of your face with complete and utter awe. His lips twisted into a smile as he watched you take in his features as he did to you.

    With one final look, Peter lowered his lips until they were inches away from yours, “You are so gorgeous, love.”

    You shook your head with a blush, before you leaned up to connect your lips to his. Peter responded almost immediately, his lips moving against yours. He tilted his head so that his lips could slot against yours in a smoother fashion. You groaned against his lips, moving your lips faster so that you could keep up with him. Peter moved, his back muscles shifting as he let you fall back against his bed sheets. You sighed happily, complete euphoria and love rushing over your body.

    This was Peter Parker.

    The man you had loved since the day you met him.

    The man you would love for the rest of your life.

    You moved, your back lying flat against the sheets of Peter’s bed. Your hands clutched the sides of Peter’s face, one pulling itself through his hair with a groan. Peter smiled against your lips, his contagious personality rubbing off, causing you to smile as well.

    “God, I love you,” Peter groans. His hips roll into yours for a short moment, eliciting a moan from your mouth. He continues to roll his lips into yours, sighs of happiness and love coming from both your mouths.

    To anyone other person, the scene may have looked like two people wrapped up in lust and euphoria.

    However, that was not what was happening.

    No, this was different.

    This was something bigger; something pure and beautiful. Something that no one could have predicted, a motion that most people would never achieve in their entire lives. This was something that made the stormy days brighter, and the bad days just a little bit happier. It was the sort of thing that made your stomach flutter with excitement and your heart beat just a little bit faster. It made your eyes shine brighter and your steps feel lighter. This thing made you happy, sad, and excited all at the same time; the simple mention of it made you nervous and happy all at once.

    It was love.

    This love was the feeling in your stomach when Peter mumbled how much he loved you; it was the feeling of Peter’s lips against yours. Love was the ache in your gut as Peter’s hips rolled against yours.

    And most of all, it was what you felt for Peter; and similarly, it was what he felt for you.

Erased - The Forgotten Series - Pt. 2

Pairing: Dean x Reader 

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: This is the sequel to the gif blurb Forgotten. I had never planned on continuing this story, but you guys seemed to want more. Now it’s been a while, so I hope you’re still needy. Hope this doesn’t ruin the first part. I’m nervous about this one.

Feedback welcome and appreciated 

Tags below, bitches

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