fall in my knees

instead of fat hunk jokes how about a running gag that no matter what planet or galaxy they go to, some alien will always fall irreversibly in love with hunk for his kindness and open personality and the team has to come up with plans and procedures for what to do when hunk inevitably gets proposed to on a planet they’re trying to form an alliance with

don’t let him get away!! 

  • Gryffindor: Hey, gotta bandaid?
  • Slytherin: No, why? You don't look hurt.
  • Gryffindor: 'Cause I scraped my knee FALLING FOR YOU.
  • Slytherin: ...
  • Slytherin: *pointing wand at Gryffindor* Avada Kedavra.
4

“I prayed all the way up that hill yesterday,” he said softly. “Not for you to stay; I didna think that would be right. I prayed I’d be strong enough to send ye away.” He shook his head, still gazing up the hill, a faraway look in his eyes.
“I said ‘Lord, if I’ve never had courage in my life before, let me have it now. Let me be brave enough not to fall on my knees and beg her to stay.’ He pulled his eyes away from the cottage and smiled briefly at me. 

“Hardest thing I ever did, Sassenach.”

3

There must be a book about this ?? what to do when your friend turns into a big pinkish cat ?


Thank you ! It was a good excuse for me to draw Peregrïn’s cat form. She has a reflex of turning into it when she’s startled. Even when not in battle. Like… don’t wake her up with big noises and stuff.

The suggestion was Peregrïn protecting Khadgar, which is something she would 100% do so I agree with this idea >v<
I still want to point out that at this age they’re pretty much equals, as far as I know, she’s not stronger.
And they do stand up for one another. Even when they were young friends, just two kids, different yet somehow similar.

WARNING: KIND OF LONG POST FEATURING A CYPRIOT IN LOVE WITH THE COMEBACK OF 13 AMAZING, TALENTED AND BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE.

So…. I’m crying.
I’ve actually been crying for hours.
Why?
Well one word: Seventeen.

Originally posted by wonnhao

I spent so many days in worry. When I heard that Seventeen are changing their concept I was extremely worried. After all,what I have noticed is that some people do not  accept change. They expect a group to have the same branding forever.

Originally posted by indigyu

So like I said, I was worried. Most importantly I was worried that I’d be disappointed. especially since their last album is one of my favourite albums. Ever.

And then today, I finally saw the comeback. And let me cut to the chase…. I love this comeback.

Originally posted by wonnhao

I love that they are maturing, growing up as artists, improving and creating beautiful art. I love that they are acting, travelling to master their craft and gain experienes.

Originally posted by my-hansol-vernon

Originally posted by pledisseventeen

I love the song. What makes it so amazing is that Seventeen has such amazing colours. Each member is so different, they have such a unique feel, so fresh. And they always experiment. The rappers try singing, the singers try new ranges and so do the others. They push boundaries. They are not just content with the label of ‘vocal’, 'rapper’ and so on. They want to move forward, to evolve and I love it.

Originally posted by mingyiu

This song also makes the members feel more equal. Indeed the song doesn’t feel like 2 members ft the boys. It feels like 1 single unit, shining together. It feels like they all matter. And in my opinion, although they do dance together and sing together, it does indeed feel like they are 'alone’ due to the mood of the song.

Originally posted by is-your-mac-fully-loaded

The lyrics are so emotional. But that doesnt compare to the emotions in their voices.

Their voices show clear pain, suffering and longing but also determination to not cry. Even if that determination seems to hurt them more than help them. Their voices tell different stories and it’s beautiful.

Originally posted by pledisseventeen

And the part with Mingyu, Wonwoo, Jeonghan and Seungkwan seems to be the most heartbreaking for me. Because during that part it seems like we get a conflict of what Seventeen are saying( that they are ok) versus what is going on inside their heads which is that they are not ok at all. 

In fact, they want the person they long for to come back, hence why they ‘dont wanna cry’, just incase their tears prevent them from seeing the person, or whatever they want to see. ( I really love this idea so much)

Originally posted by pledisseventeen

So we get a feeling that they are lying to themselves. We get the feeling that we can relate with Seventeen. Because we too have hid or still hide our real feelings. We put a smile and say ’ yep, I’m fine’ when it’s all lies.

Originally posted by indigyu

And the choreography….. It’s amazing. There is a flow yet passion in their bodies during the choreo and it really compliments the song. It makes it even better as the choreo itself tells a story.

Originally posted by pledisseventeen

Originally posted by indigyu

It is not a choreo done just to look cool and impressive or just to get someone to say ‘wow that was a random cool move’. They tried to make it into a message. A tale in itself. Once again the ‘dorawa’ part immediately comes into my head. The way they fall on their knees, the way they move feels like they are hopeless. Broken. It feel like they have given up and all there is is numbness.

Originally posted by jeong-hanie

And the visual of the MV is phenomenal. So beautiful. Really compliments the song and dance.

Originally posted by visual-17

So what can seventeen not do? What else do they have in store for us? There are so many stories they want to tell. But for now we all need to follow and then recover from this story. Because I have a feeling this will be an emotional ride.

After all, their anniversary is soon and I have to prepare for that too emotionally. (ah thinking about that makes me want to cry again)

Originally posted by jeonheart

I can also sing praises about this album.The title track is amazing but so are the other songs.

The vocal unit feel is sweet and emotional. It just relaxes the muscles, the brain and makes me want to close my eyes and relax. Just listen to Seventeen.

The hip hop unit is once again branching out.

The performance unit release what people call a literal bop. 

The china line slays hard and Crazy in love feels like a rollercoaster. And lets be real, ain't nothing better than a kpop rollercoaster. And if it’s as fun as Seventeen’s well…. what could be better.

So many styles, so many colours, so many emotions. 

Originally posted by emojchic

I really, really hope they win an award. Just one at least. Because right now it’s all about the power of the different fan bases.We are fighting digital monsters. And while I would like to say that 'just be happy you got a comeback’ I’d be lying. I want Seventeen to win. And it’s ok if you want your bias group to win. It’s normal. You can say ’ Seventeen deserves to win’ because they do. Seventeen realises high quality music, a mini album full of stories. It’s ok to want them to get more recognition.

Originally posted by pledisseventeen

So Seventeen, good luck. As a Carat I would like to say that I am so proud, so happy. You work so hard, train so hard and most importantly you risk. And i am here to vote, stream, fangirl and cry with you! Maybe you ‘dont wanna cry’ but its ok. We, Carats, will cry for you instead!

Thank you so much for this beautiful comeback.

Thank you for working so hard for this.

I can’t speak for every Carat but I haven’t felt so satisfied in so long.

Originally posted by indigyu

This is beautiful.

Thank you for starting to open up to us slowly and telling us more about your style and your feelings.

Thank you for being emotional in a title track.

There are so many thank you’d I want to say, but I’ll leave them for the anniversary.

Originally posted by frogpancakes

Thank you for reading!

PS. I want to address the elephant in the room. I’d like to ignore this issue but since it’s a hot topic, I will put my 2 cents into it. Many haters are spamming with comparisons to Chainsmokers  in order to hurt Carats and Seventeen(and i dont mean the constructive criticism. Just the hate).  It is not ok to drag a group which works so earnestly down. Not when they work so hard.

However, it’s just proving that Seventeen are becoming a bigger group. That people feel threatened. Try to take away all their hard work. Haters can try but we Carats will stay strong. We will protect Seventeen, support them, be with them through their improvement. And fellow Carats don’t be discouraged! Let’s be strong for our boys and defend them!

(I’m sorry but I just had to get that out of my chest).

Lets stream like we have never before! They deserve all the love!

@radioactive-bananibal You bet I’m sending you the choreography video! So be prepared! 

Power rangers? I mean it was a decent movie I- *trips* *thousands of pictures of the kids spill from pockets* fuck those aren’t mine i swear i’m just holding them for a friend i- *slips on a pile of petitions for a sequel * fu ck no they’re not mine im not that invested i just- *more pictures fall out as i fall to my knees, desperately trying to pick them up* hang on a sec jUst LISTEN

anonymous asked:

skellydun? what a loser i hate him i- *trips* *thousands of pictures of skellydun spill from pockets* fuck those aren’t mine i swear i’m just holding them for a friend i- *slips on a pile of pictures* fu ck no they’re not mine i hate him i just- *more pictures fall out as i fall to my knees, desperately trying to pick them up* hang on a sec jUst LISTEN

wooing me with old memes. i love it.

For Lamashtu!!

Recently during my weekly Pathfinder game, the party split up to explore some catacombs under a small town. While in these catacombs, our Human Swashbuckler, Aasimar Sorcerer, and Catfolk Slayer encountered a mutated goblin with three arms.

Goblin (in Goblin): Who you!? You not Lamashtu!! (he meant “a follower of”)

Swashbuckler (in Goblin): Uhh, she Lamastu!! –points to Sorcerer–

DM (me): Roll bluff. And no, your “Innocent” trait doesn’t apply (makes a lie more believable).

Combined, they roll a 24, but the lie is nearly impossible, so they took a -20 penalty. The goblin’s Sense Motive, on the other hand, was at a -1 due to his Wisdom Modifier.

He rolled a 4, with a -1. He believed that this beautiful Aasimar was Lamastu incarnate. He immediately runs up and falls to his knees in worship.

Goblin: What do you ask of my, Mistress of Monsters?

Aasimar: Slay yourself for the Goddess!

DM: Bluff again…I really hope you don’t–(roll made fairly high)Oh come on…

The goblin Coup De Grace’d himself with three weapons for 41 damage, killing himself instantly.

The party couldn’t breath for several minutes we were laughing so hard.

Burying The Child - Feyre Fanfic

A Feyre character exploration fanfiction. Set post ACOMAF in the spring court, with Lucien for company. Warnings for discussion of mental health and grieving.

Burying The Child - Gen/K

History was once again repeating itself, but this time I was different; I would not make the same mistakes as I had before. I doubted I could even if I wanted to. Fate and its sick sense of humour had warped me too much for that.

“I remember when Tamlin first bought you those paints,” Lucien mused. “You sat in here all day for weeks, like a child with a new toy. It was very endearing, really.”

He sat across from me, lounging upon a daybed below a window in the gallery. His body lay splashed with sunlight, turning his hair a gorgeous shade of amber and his bronze skin, exposed by the open-necked shirt he wore, shone like clear liquid honey. One could mistake him for a god were it not for the signs of strain that recent events had carved into him, from his hollow cheeks to his nervous, restless fingers; The latter of which was really quite irksome.

“Stop fidgeting,” I quipped, frowning and biting down on the tip of my tongue. “I’ll never be able to get you right if you keep moving. Honestly, and you compare me to a child.”

“I do have a few years on you, fair lady.”

“That only makes it worse.”

Lucien managed to still himself for a rather pathetic minute before his forefinger resumed their tapping upon his thigh, but I made no comment. The back and forth bitching we’d developed when I’d first arrived at the Spring Court had now evolved beyond the antipathy and mourning we’d shared. He no longer held the death of Andras against me, and I in turn agreed not to speak of what had passed here whilst I was at the Night Court. This silent agreement meant we were both more comfortable in sharing quiet moments together, knowing neither would verbally assault the other. In a case of mutually assured destruction, we both knew the wounds such talk would inflict could scar us both.

“I can’t believe it’s only been a year since we first met,” Lucien said, his gaze fixed out the window at the surrounding gardens. “Only a year since we were all prisoners. Or, a year since we were able to admit to it aloud.”

He was breaching dangerous territory, but I’d long stopped being scared by it. It had only been two months since my return to Spring, and yet it was already apparent to me that no one save Tamlin and Ianthe thought the deal with Hybern was wise. Since the High Lord and his Priestess were out on a ride that day, I saw no harm in letting Lucien say whatever it was that was bothering him.

“Missing Amarantha, are we?”

“Oh, dreadfully,” Lucien said, playing along with a theatrical swoon. He laughed when I scolded him for shifting his position. Though I had come to see Lucien as an ally, I could never come to like his laugh. It always spoke of so much pain. “What can I say? She kept Tamlin occupied. He does so love to have an enemy.”

Finished sketching, I took up mixing up the colours I needed on the paint palette. “He’s a fool for choosing Rhysand as his new target,” I said quietly, struggling to get the right skin tone. There would be time to learn proper painting technique, if only I could survive the war. The past year had been spent fashioning me into a weapon, no time for games. Who I was had been carved into steel and fire and power, so that I was more a what than a whom to the world now. Beyond what I had briefly shared with Rhys, I had not known softness in a long time.

“If what you say about the Night Court is true, I don’t doubt it.” Lucien looked over at me, his metal eye as unnerving as ever. Still I had not dared to ask just what it allowed him to see, but I felt as if it could somehow discern the contents of my soul.

He chewed the inside of his cheek whilst I distracted myself with mixing paint, before he finally spoke, “You’ve changed so much, Feyre.” He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. “I must admit, I’m impressed by who you have become. Even if Rhysand did not exist, I’d hate to make a foe of you. So forgive me when I say I am also in mourning.”

Cocking my head, I finally had the courage to look back at him. Did he speak of Elain now? “Mourning whom?” I asked. The smile he gave me hurt as much as the two months apart from Rhysand had. It spoke of pity, pity I could not bear.

“I am in mourning for a close friend. A friend I made under Amarantha’s rule. A human girl, who came here with childish anger, who could be made happy and placid by nothing more than paint. A girl who screamed and cried and didn’t know any better than to wander out at night on Calanmai, and who could fall in love even with a Beast.” He did not drop my gaze. “I grieve for you too, for losing her. I’m sorry you can’t be her any more.”

He’d spoken so softly, so quietly, that we both flinched when I snapped my paintbrush in half. Claws edged out of my knuckles, my grip too tight. I was still learning the depths of my new strength, though I didn’t care as anger flashed upon my tongue. “Don’t be,” I hissed, snatching a fresh brush and ramming it in the prepared paint to coat it. “She was a stupid, foolish little victim who knew no better.”

“That, fair Feyre,” Lucien said, back to looking out at the gardens, “is exactly why I mourn for you.”

Keep reading

What He Sees

Characters: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: angst, self doubt and self loathing, fan hate, fluff, mild smut

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: This is the SECOND fic for my 6k celebration and one year fic-i-versary. The line requested was, “You should be able to see that I’m 90% crap..” It will be highlighted in the fic. This is written for Steph, @torn-and-frayed Hope you like it, dear. Thanks for celebrating with me.

Tags at the end

Feedback welcome and appreciated

Keep reading

Work it Out

Bucky x Reader

Summary: after pulling a muscle on a mission, you need to stretch out your leg while working out. But you need help to do so. There’s only one person around to help.

Word Count: 2595 (I got carried away!)

Warnings: language + references to smut + angst

A/N: I have so much unfinished hw and I’m writing a fanfic. honestly I should just drop out I can’t anymore w school. anyway, enjoy 💛


“That bad?” Wanda says, chuckling breathlessly. I shake my head. A familiar pain strikes through my thigh and I wince. Wanda looks at me in concern. “Stop.” she says. I look at her for a moment, almost limping on the treadmill, before pressing the “Stop” button and letting the conveyer belt slow to a halt. She finishes her own as well, wiping the sheet of sweat off her forehead.

“He literally ate his rice with his hands.” I sigh. Wanda raises her eyebrows. “I don’t know when the dating pool shrunk to all the losers.” I shake my head.

“Well, don’t take it out in your workout.” she says. “At least not until your muscle has healed.” I roll my eyes. “Doctor’s orders!” she says impatiently. I stick my tongue out at her and she smiles. “Well, I’m done anyway. Tony organized a dinner.” I tilt my head.

“Tony did something nice? What’s the catch?” I say. She shrugs.

“I think Pepper kinda forced him to. He said something about bonding, and I knew there was no way he had decided to do this on his own account.” I smile, shaking my head. “I’m gonna go clean up. Make sure to be down by seven.” I nod and bid her farewell. “And please take it easy on the workout.” she says, exiting the gym.

I bite my lip and turn around, looking for the next thing to do. After a moment, I decide to work on my combat by the punching bags. I cover my hands first so I don’t hurt myself, then begin punching at the sand bag, grunting with each blow. I use my left leg to kick, keeping use of my right minimal, like my doctor said to. My elbows strike the bag over and over, letting out my pent up anger. My stupid muscle was keeping me from going on the missions. I’m stuck in the compound and the best thing I can do is watch Netflix. I’m dead weight until my leg heals, and there’s no telling when that will be. My mind goes back to the first time I had to sit out on an assignment, five days ago.

We were about to leave for a mission, practically walking out the door as we finished gearing up. It had been a day since my doctor told me I hurt my leg. I was limping slightly, as the pain had turned into a dull ache. I pull on my jacket and look around at my teammates. Everyone is preparing, tucking guns into their jeans, putting in earpieces. I notice Bucky looking at me for a moment, but I don’t give it any notice, because he soon calls Steve over to him. I return to my prep, sliding a small dagger into my boot. I turn around, ready to leave, and nearly crash straight into a chest. My feet stumbled back and my eyes meet Steve’s concerned ones.

“What?” I say, furrowing my eyebrows. He folds his arms and looks down at my leg.

“I think you should maybe sit this one out, Y/N.” he says firmly. I stare at him incredulously.

“What?” I say, shaking my head. “No, I’m fine, Steve. I can handle myself.” He purses his lips.

“And if you can’t?” I tilt my head at him.

“I’m trained, Steve. I can handle a leg.” I say, looking at him stubbornly.

“I can’t risk you getting caught out there. You know they’ll take advantage of any of our weaknesses.” I step back.

“I’m a weakness?” I ask. He shakes his head.

“You know that’s not what I meant. I don’t want you to get hurt.” I exhale sharply, looking around at everyone else. Nat’s lips are pursed, looking at me identically to the way Steve is. Everyone has stopped what they’re doing to tune into the conversation, looking at me like I’m a child. Everyone except Bucky.

“You gotta be kidding me.” I say, setting my gaze on each one of them.

“He’s right, Y/N.” Tony says, his voice muffled by his suit. “It won’t help anyone if your leg acts up and you fall on your ass. That’s bad enough, now add the responsibility of innocents and the threat of HYDRA.” My nose flares, because I know they’re right. I silently throw off my jacket and limp back to the elevator.


“Y/N!” someone yells from behind me. I snap out of my thoughts and stop beating the bag in front of me, turning around. Bucky is standing by the Dumbbells, concern obvious on his face. “Are you alright?” he says. I breathe heavily and look down at my wrapped feet, wondering how long he was calling me for.

“Fine.” I mutter, turning back to the punching bag. I feel his eyes burning into the back of my head and huff. Great, I think, now I can’t concentrate. I straighten my posture and swallow, still knowing that he’s watching me. Ignore, ignore, ignore. I begin punching again, trying to keep from making any grunts of effort. I’m back into a routine, this time not out of anger, but out of genuine focus. I’m in the zone, pretending to deface a HYDRA junkie, making him call for his mom. I get too excited, because I jump up and do a 360, sticking out my leg—my right leg—to kick in midair. My hamstring protests, causing a jolting pierce to run up my leg. I yelp and fall to the ground, landing on my knee. “Shit.” I mutter. From the other side of the gym, I hear something falls and footsteps approach.

“Y/N?” Bucky says. “What’s wrong?” I wince and pull my legs out from underneath me, laying them out,

“Uh, hurt my leg.” I groan. His brows furrow in worry.

“How bad?” he says, his eyes darting around my leg. He sits down on his knees beside me, his hands frozen in the air, unsure of where to go.

“Think I disturbed the healing or something. Doctor kind of expected it to happen, considering I work in combat.” I sigh, the pain not subsiding.

“What can I do?” Bucky says hesitantly. There is already a polite decline leaving my mouth when I cut myself off. Shit. My face visibly shows me cringing at the words I have to say.

“Uh… My doctor said to do an exercise.” I mumble, looking down at my lap.

“What is it?” Bucky says. I sigh and run my hand over my face.

“I have to lie down and keep my legs straight, and, uh, another person has to lift my leg up really slowly and to stop when it starts to hurt. And, um, keep doing that until I can get my leg to a 90 degree angle.“ I breathe. Bucky itches the back of his neck. “You don’t have to—”

“No, it’s fine. I’m not just gonna leave you here.” he says. I keep from gritting my teeth. I kinda wish you would. It would save an incredible amount of awkwardness.

“Um. Ok.” My face turns hot as I lie down on my back with my hands at my sides. Bucky shuffles over, still sitting on the ground.

“Right leg?” he asks. I nod, watching my chest rise and fall. He gets up and leans down, taking my ankle in his hands. My breath nearly hitches at the contrast of his cold metal hand and his humanly warm flesh one. It makes goosebumps rise on my entire body. His eyes meet mine as he stands back up slowly, taking my leg with him. I internally throw profanities at myself for deciding to wear gym shorts. What’s wrong with sweats, huh? “Tell me when it hurts.” Bucky says quietly. I bite down nervously on my bottom lip. He slowly lifts my leg up, the movement of his fingers on my skin making my legs clench, which is infuriating because it makes my thigh hurt. Every move he makes, I can feel it like I’m watching it. But all I can see is my own chest and most of Bucky’s face. He looks right at me, watching for any sign of pain. Once my leg has reached the same height as wear I imagine his belly button would be, I wince and bend my knee for a split second. Bucky re-straightens it, skimming his flesh hand to my kneecap and gently pushing it down. He kneels back to the floor and sets my leg on the ground without letting go of it. He rises again, slowly, making his way back up. My fingers are digging into the mat underneath me, begging for this to be over before I do something stupid. I try to stare up at the ceiling, but it’s so difficult when I know I could be staring to his marble-like eyes instead. And that’s precisely what I do. My leg reaches his chest before the back of my thigh stretches painfully. I narrow my eyes and breathe in sharply.

“Um, it hurts.” I whisper. He stops and proceeds to repeat the protocol, kneeling and rising. The only times my eyes leave his are when they disappear behind my chest, setting my ankle down. The process repeats four more times, dead silence consuming the gym. The only sounds are my erratically beating heart, my murmurs telling him that my leg hurts, and my foot gently touching the floor. On the last time, my leg is nearly there, and when he takes a step closer to me to reach my leg easier, I nearly stop breathing. He’s towering over me, his orbs staring at me softly. He smiles slightly.

“There we go.” he says. I look at my leg and realize that it’s reached the 90 degree angle. I open my mouth, then close it. His hands roam down the back of my shin as he backs up and lays my limb back on the floor, reaching an arm out to help me up. I slowly lift my hand and take his flesh one, letting him haul me off the ground. We’re standing unbearably close, is hand on my forearm.

“Thank you.” I whisper, looking down. He nods his head and slides his hand back the way it came, down my wrist, through my hand, lightly applying pressure on my fingertips before stepping away. I take a long breath in before beginning to walk. I don’t let the breath out until I’ve safely reached my room, locking it and collapsing onto my bed.


I only have about twenty minutes to get ready for dinner, so I take an impossibly quick shower—desperately trying to wash away the tingling on my right leg— and change into a pair of dark skinny jeans and a cream colored blouse. I brush my hair and leave it down to air dry, as I don’t have time to do it. I get out of my room just in time and head down the lounge. It’s modern and sleek with grey couches and smooth wooden floors. On the other end of the room, there’s a mountain of food neatly placed on the board glass dining table. The food is surrounded by empty dinner plates and cutlery. The rest of the team have just made it, talking to one another and taking their seats. I can’t help but smile. As much as I hate to admit it, I don’t blame them for keeping me off the missions. I feel grateful that they care about me enough to put my safety before the given assignment. Nat notices me standing at the entrance of the room and smiles, gesturing for me to approach. I do, greeting everyone in a friendly manner as I take a seat between Sam and Clint, breathing in the sweet scent of fresh food and laying a towel out on my lap. Most of it hasn’t been uncovered yet, still blanketed with a silverware dome. Chatter echoes around the table, but I stay silent, watching the plates being uncovered by outstretched hands, taking in the sight. Rice, ribs, steak, pasta. Every dinner food I can think of is stretched out on the table. I feel someone tap me on the shoulder. I look over to Sam, whose looking at me mischievously. I narrow my eyes. “What?” I ask testingly. He smiles and props his cheek on his knuckles.

“I saw quite the sight earlier.” he says quietly. My eyebrows knit into a confused frown. “I saw you,” he pauses, “gettin’ all touchy with Barnes in the gym.” My eyes widen. I hear an irritating clink behind and look over to see Barton has dropped his glass of champagne. It leaks all over the glass, but no one seems to notice. He’s staring at Sam with his eyes wide. My head whips back to Sam and I give him a deadly glare. He doesn’t even look at me, but instead smiles at Clint.

“You had a thing with Barnes?” he says. I close my eyes at the volume of his voice and nearly off myself right there. The chatter at the table comes to an abrupt halt at the sentence. I’ve never been happier to not have Bucky at the table.

“No,” I croak, “I didn’t.” Tony giggles like a child. My eyes fly open and I look at him testingly. “I didn’t.”

“Then what the hell did I see?” Sam says. I swallow and look down.

“I hurt my leg. He was helping me stretch.” I say quietly. Tony makes an uh-hu and I grit my teeth.

“Stop.” I say. Sam and Tony have childish smirks on their faces that I wish I could punch clean off. Everyone else looks at me with raised eyebrows or widened eyes. “Nothing happened.” I mumble. Sam shrugs.

“Here he comes. We’ll just ask him ourselves.” Tony says. My breathing pattern disorients as I look behind me to see Bucky coming through the hall, shaking out his wet hair like a dog. I want to sink back into my chair and become one with it, completely out of sight and finished with this situation. “Hey, Barnes, what were you doing with Y/N in the gym?” Tony says. I barely look at him, just enough to see his face. He raises an eyebrow.

“Working out?” he says, like its the only possible thing that could’ve happened. I mean, it is. Of course it is. “That’s not what I saw.” Sam says, tilting his head at Bucky. I feel a lump form in my throat as Bucky looks at me in confusion.

“She hurt her thigh. I was helping her stretch.” he says, squinting.

“Mmhhmm.” Tony says. “I bet you help her stretch all the time.” I stiffen, looking around the table. Clint, Sam, and Tony giggle profusely. Steve is tugging at his lips to keep a smile from reaching them. Wanda and Nat look at me in surprise. I breathe in and look down, suddenly disheartened.

“You know what, guys?” I say quietly, standing up and folding the towel on the table. “Have a great dinner.” I push my chair out with the back of my knees. The boys aren’t laughing anymore. The table’s eyes are on me. I shuffle out of the chair and turn around, walking past Bucky, brushing his shoulder and trying not to stare at his concerned face. My feet thump, carrying me back to my room, locking the door and sitting on the end of my bed, a sigh escaping my lips.

2

Yoosung and V? I don’t know them- *trips* *thousands of mystic messenger cgs spill from pockets * fuck those aren’t mine i swear i’m just holding them for a friend i- *slips on a pile of pictures* fu ck no they’re not mine i hate them i just- *more pictures fall out as i fall to my knees, desperately trying to pick them up* hang on a sec jUst LISTEN

  • Simon: Baz Pitch? what a loser i hate him i- *trips* *thousands of pictures of Baz spill from pockets* fuck those aren’t mine i swear i’m just holding them for a friend i- *slips on a pile of pictures* fu ck no they’re not mine i hate him i just- *more pictures fall out as i fall to my knees, desperately trying to pick them up* hang on a sec j-jUst LISTEN
The I fucked up storyline

Mom: ARE YOU YOU STILL WATCHING THEM KOREAN BOYS GETTT OFF YOUR PHONE

Me: Im on break

Mom: You barely have 2 days left till school 

Me: *checks calandar*

Me: SHHHHHHIIIIIIITTTTT

Me: *Checks planner to see all the shit I put off* *falls too my knees* Dear lord, please save me