glass carton

maybe-blank-willbeyouralways-de  asked:

041 with shance, please?

Lmao, plot, what is plot. 

Hope you like it Yas!!! <3333 This tiny person is also my fave. I have so many faves fuck, they are just so wonderful, ugh, stop being amazing. 

Also, nice choice on the Shance, fuck, I love those babies, ppl need to send me more request about them. 

Disclaimer: Voltron doesn’t belong to me. 

041. “You found me crying on the kitchen floor in the middle of the night surrounded by a shattered jelly jar.”

“You found me crying on the kitchen floor in the middle of the night,” Shiro deadpans, glaring flatly at his giggling boyfriend, “surrounded by a shattered jelly jar.”

“I did, oh my god, yes I did.” Lance laughs, holding his stomach as he shakes with laughter, “And it was the most beautiful thing ever.”

“I was in distress, you jerk.”

“You were high on drugs because of the surgery, babe.” Lance waves him off with a hand, “You  – Oh god  – You were mourning the loss of your precious jelly jar, which you thought it was – hah – ice cream in the first place.”

“It was pink and creamy!” Shiro pouts, crossing his arms over his chest and humming unamused when Lance drops a kiss above his eyebrow. “How was I supposed to see the difference?”

“Uh, evidence number one: ice cream comes in carton, not glass.” Lance reminds, holding one finger up smugly before raising a second one, “Evidence number two: Ice cream is kept in the freezer, not the cupboard.”

“It was dark!” Shiro whines,“My high drugged brain was in grief. We lost a good Jelly Jar that night.”

“Oh yes, yes, we shall do a funeral for poor Mr. Jelly Jar.” Lance chuckles, taking seat on his boyfriend’s lap and wrapping his arms around him, “Okay, but for real, babe, you feeling better?”

Shiro nods, moving his jaw as a proof. “Yeah, having ice cream, you know, real ice cream, as a breakfast really helped soothing the pain on my mouth.”

“Not to mention you ruined our pillow.” Lance chuckles, “Looks like you committed murder in that poor pillow, blood and drool all over it. No way it can be saved.”

“To be fair, I told you to drop me on the couch.” Shiro raises his hands in surrender, “You know that the surgery on the wisdom teeth results in drool and blood.”

Lance snorts. “Baby, have you seen yourself? I was barely able to like, support you on the way up. You fell on top of me on the bed.”

Shiro blinks before he grins, hands placing comfortably around Lance’s hips. “Well, that explains a few things when I woke up in the middle of the night.”

The brunet flushes and slaps his arm, shaking his head in disbelief. “You are unbelieveable. I’m supposed to be the ‘inuendo’ guy in this relationship.”

“You always get the fun! Not Fair!”

“What’s not fair is that I have no strawberry jelly for my toast right now, so, up! You owe me a jelly!”

“You mi mi mi jelly.” Shiro mocks, sticking out his tongue playfully and laughing when Lance gasps and shoves him back, yelping when Shiro’s hold on him doesn’t flatters and bring him down along with him on the couch.

“Shiro! For god’s sake!” The brunet shouts out in surprise, laughter muffled against his boyfriend’s chest, “My breakfast!”

“My cuddles, babe!” Shiro shouts back, squeezing the younger man closer to him, “Cuddles and then we can go to the Coran’s Cafe, I swear.”

A pause and then -

“Ok, fine, but just because these are the first cuddles without blood in like three days.”

“Fair enough.”

“You better not drool on me.”

“No promises.”


Good Night (Charlie Puth x reader)

Okay, new Charlie Puth imagine. Requested by two anon.

Empty Chinese takeout boxes and bottles sat on the coffee table in front of the tv. Supernatural was on and you and Charlie were snuggled on the couch paying attention to each other a lot more than what was going on with Sam and Dean. Your legs were straddling his hips on the couch, his lips on yours. “We should really-” you were cut off as he placed his lips back on yours. His gentle touches and rough kisses heated the room quickly, and you were both panting for breaths after a few minutes. “I should get going,” you whispered through your heavy breathing, “It’s almost three in the morning.”

“You could stay the night,” he proposed, “It’s too late to go home now. Plus, we’ve been drinking.” I could get an Uber, you thought. “Just stay. I can tell you’re tired,” he told you. After you agreed, you got up and began collecting all of the empty cartons and glasses to put in recycling. He turned off the television and grabbed the few bottles left on the table and followed you to the kitchen. After tidying up, he led the way to his room upstairs, grabbed a large shirt and boxers and tossed them at you. “Use these.” You nodded your head and went into the bathroom to change.

When you exited the bathroom, he was already in bed, waiting. “Come here,” he mumbled, smiling. A cute grin graced your face as you stumbled your way to him before jumping into bed, into his arms. He pulled you into his chest before turning off the light. “Good night,” you mumbled. “Night, Angel,” he whispered before kissing your temple and falling asleep.


Glass Milk Carton 

This Glass Milk Carton is simply an incredible idea. Combining a simple traditional shape of a common milk carton with the technical advantages, durability and elegance of tempered glass may not seem so incredible on paper, but the actual result is well worth the attention.

anonymous asked:

Omg Kookie drinking milk that's so cute

he’s a child poor beb should have been left at home

also he doesn’t want to break any glasses so milk cartons are the way to go

Now and Forever, Amen.

Pastor A. - caring for the sick

They look at her differently in the hazmat suit. She has long believed in the robe. She is the shepherd, and her flock will know her by the collar or the cowl – in a manner of speaking. And when she kneels by the pallet of each patient, there is no recognition in their eyes. They cannot feel the warmth of her skin through the gloves, though she holds each hand that she can. She cannot feel the weight of the cross she wears around the neck of the suit.

It hurts, they tell her.

I know, she says. She strokes a hand. She wipes bloody sores from faces and changes filthy bedding. God is with you. I am with you.

I’m scared, they tell her.

There were once flowers on the altar, beautiful arrangements sent in perpetuity by the church council. She’d rather liked the flowers with petal spines like stars bursting. In the churchyard she finds clovers for the patients. Red and white and little asters on stalks.

Some of the stronger ones are able to keep down their coffee and tea. The reserves in her office are dwindling. She used to save them for private consultations, once. Now her flock is many and she serves them in liters at a time.

Deliver us from evil. For Thine is the kingdom.

Tell me your name
, she bids them. Hallowed be Thy name.

When the volunteers from the university hospital arrive, they bring with them cartons of glass jars, needles and bottles, tablets and serums.

We are here to deliver, they tell her.

Yes, she says. We have been hoping for that.

Begin Again - i || TBS

Originally posted by sirisaacnewtmas

A/N: I’ll admit, I was pumped to see you guys contact me without the anonymous feature. So, without further ado. :)

I was also pumped to find out that the first comment on my post (where I asked you guys if you’d like this kind of fic) was a guy telling me that I’d be better off doing homework in my room.

Well, sir, I am actually a straight-A student with no problems in school and at home, at all.

Hah, here you go.


Your ex-husband, Thomas, insisted on watching your six-year-old daughter Hope while you go the US to attend a conference for writers. Reluctantly, you agreed, and here you were at his home.

“Daddy!” your daughter ran up to your lanky ex-husband, crawling to his neck.

“Hey, princess,” he smiled – genuinely, too.

Then he saw you.

And he gave you that same fake smile, full of unsaid words and feelings.

“Hello, Y/N.” he reached out to hug you awkwardly. It was less uncomfortable since Hope was between you both, and he patted your back friendlily.

“Hi, Thomas.” You smiled, reaching for Hope’s bag. “Here’s her bag. I packed up three extra sets of clothes and some snacks in case she gets hungry,”

Thomas took the pink backpack from you, chuckling. “Y/N, she has clothes here, and I have a kitchen.”

You widened your eyes slightly, before nodding sheepishly. “Riiight. Well, off I go, then.” You leaned in to kiss Hope on the cheek, then Thomas spoke up.

“How about you stay for dinner?” he suggested shyly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

“Yeah, mommy, stay!” Hope pouted.

“For a bit, my flight is in three hours.” You complied.

“I can drive you.” Thomas offered. “We can get food on the road.”

Thomas was acting odd. He’d always act stiff when you were around, and he was always almost evidently waiting for you to leave already.

But today, he wanted to spend time with you.

Despite yourself, you nodded, turning to Hope. “Honey, why don’t you go unpack some of your things? Freshen up before we leave?”

Hope looked at her father. At his nod of agreement, Hope hopped off to her bedroom – a room Thomas had the people build especially for her when you were still married.

“What’s up with you today?” you demanded, following Thomas to the kitchen.

He set down two glasses and a pitcher of iced tea, sighing. “I just want to see both my girls again, okay, Y/N? Just for tonight. For Hope.”

Did he just call you his girl?

If you were honest with yourself, you probably hoped he wanted you to stay because he wanted you, daughter or no daughter. But you nodded.

I mean, you wouldn’t be forced to befriend him if Hope didn’t come into the picture, right?

Handing you your glass of tea, an awkward silence followed.

Daddy, I want one too!” your daughter stood in the hallway, eyeing you both happily, probably overjoyed at the rare sight of her two parents together.

“You won’t be able to sleep tonight, darling, how about milk?” he offered. At your daughter’s nod, he reached for a glass and the carton.

“Do you have cookies, too?” she asked.

“Hope,” you interrupted, a warning tone wavering in your voice.

“It’s alright, love, really,” he told you. And he was just as shocked as you were.

He hadn’t called you love since – well – forever.

Not since six years.

“Just a few, it’ll ruin her appetite.” You compromised. Thomas nodded.

Holding back a smile at the sweet exchange between father and daughter, you decided to clean the glasses up and put them in the sink. You began to reach for the sponge when Thomas stopped you.

“That’s unnecessary… Y/N,” he almost called you that again. “I’ll do it when I get home.”

“Nonsense, they’re just glasses, Thomas.” With that, you set to work.

More strange behavior followed. Thomas insisted on you riding next to him with Hope on your lap. The last time you rode next to him in a car was when you were on your way to sign your divorce papers.

Thomas being an actor, paparazzi followed you both around. Bitterness overtook you further then; his career was practically the reason why you decided to end things.

Somehow, Thomas never noticed when you stared at him while he was driving. So during the one-hour drive to McDonald’s, you took the time to assess what changed.

His jaw line is more pronounced, his laugh lines a little more prominent. He still ran his fingers through his hair and sighed whenever he was in deep thought. Only Hope kept the aura lively, chatting to Thomas about her friends in school.

“Mommy has a friend too, Daddy, he’s my friend’s daddy and he said he really likes Mommy,” Hope blabbered on. You sunk in your seat.

Bryce Masen was a single parent who took a liking to you, and boy, was he vocal about it. He insisted on courting you, but you gave him a firm no before he settled for friendship.

Thomas glanced at you briefly. “Really?” his eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“He’s just a friend,” you clarified. “Mommy doesn’t like anyone,” it was more towards Thomas, but Hope nodded.

“You mean like a crush, Mommy?” Hope asked innocently, and Thomas’ head snapped to her direction.

“Since when did you know what a crush is?” he demanded, occasionally looking at her to indicate he’s waiting for an answer.

“One of my friends said he crushed on me, then Mommy told me it means you want to be boyfriend and girlfriend with someone.” She explained.

“No crushes,” he stated firmly. “not until you’re thirty.”

You held back an “aww”, and Hope only laughed.

“I’m not joking,” Thomas muttered so softly only you could hear.

“Thomas,” you chastised. He only looked at you smugly.

“Here we are!” he turned to the drive-thru.

He spoke to the intercom and relayed your order, knowing it by heart.

Although it was a little thing, you found it very endearing.

“Say goodbye to Mummy, Hope.” Thomas put her in your arms, and she nuzzled her nose in the crook of your neck.

“Don’t go, Mommy,” she whined.

“I’ll come back in a few days, darling,” you promised, kissing her hair.

“Promise?” she pulled away, meeting your eyes. At your nod, she smiled. “Can me, you, and Daddy go to the beach?”

“I’m sure Daddy can bring you there while I’m gone, sweetie.”

“But I want you to be there, too!” she pouted.

“Of course we’ll wait for Mummy,” Thomas piped up.

What is this man high on?

“Alright then!” you said breathily. “We’ll go to the beach when I get back.”

“I’m sleepy,” Hope yawned, climbing up Thomas’ car, leaving you two standing awkwardly.

“You’re acting really weird, Thomas, you have to stop before Hope-“

“I miss you, alright?” Thomas blurted out. “I want to have an actual friendship with you. Not a friendship where you want to get out of my bloody house as soon as you can.”

You sighed. “Fine.” You forced a smile. “I’ll see you when I get back, then.”

“I’m really taking you girls to the beach,” Thomas remarked.

Your lips tightening to a thin line, you nodded. “That would be nice.”

Taking you both by surprise, he leaned in to wrap you in his embrace.

He still smelled the same. Felt the same way.

“Travel safely. Message me when you land.” He whispered in your ear.

He pulled away from the embrace, but not completely. His face lingered close to yours, eyes shut, waiting for you to react to your unusual closeness.

You didn’t react.

He exhaled through his nose, pulling away. “I’m sorry.” He muttered.

You nodded. “Goodbye, Thomas.”

He looked heartbroken that you hadn’t responded to the kiss. He tried to keep a friendly façade, but you knew him. You always will.

With that in mind, you tiptoed to peck him on the lips before hurrying away, not wanting to deal with the aftermath.

What just happened?


Glass Milk Carton

This Glass Milk Carton is simply an incredible idea. Combining a simple traditional shape of a common milk carton with the technical advantages, durability and elegance of tempered glass may not seem so incredible on paper, but the actual result is well worth the attention.

LF Items, RV Visits

Looking For: Visits to Mabel’s RV, Celeste’s RV, Blathers RV, Medli’s RV, round cushion, zen cushion, bound books, milk carton, glass teapot, arched brick floor, clothes rack
Offering: the whole roccoco series, anything from Boot’s RV, Billy’s RV, Digby’s RV, Isabelle’s RV, anything else on your wishlist that I can get my hands on! 
URL: alagasia
Link: ASK / IM 
Friend Code: 5249-9594-3813

I'm Sorry- Erik Durm

The dark bedroom was suddenly violated by a beam of bright light from the bathroom. I groggily rolled over to see Erik stripping his clothes as he prepared to shower. The clock read 6:04 a.m. I grabbed the unused pillow lying next to me and tossed it towards him, shouting, “Can you shut the door? I’m sleeping. And don’t just throw your dirty clothes on the floor. There’s a hamper literally 2 feet from you.”

I heard him scoff. “You’ve been awake for less than 60 seconds and you’ve already found something to nag me about.”

I turned back around, away from the blinding light, and pulled the covers above my head. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to nag you if you would just listen the first time,” I mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. He slammed the door and I soon heard the sound of running water. Unfortunately, this had become our morning routine. With Erik having intense and frequent training and me working night shift, we rarely saw each other. And when we did, exhaustion and frustration reared its ugly head and we took everything out on each other. Unable to fall back asleep, I decided to have a cup of coffee and watch something on TV. Walking out of the bedroom, I picked up the clothes Erik had left on the floor this morning, as well as the ones that had been living on the floor for a week. I tossed them in the washer before walking into the kitchen.

Dishes, glasses, food, empty cartons and bottles cluttered the counters and island, even the stovetop. I took a deep sigh and rolled my eyes, just ignoring the mess for now. As poured my coffee into the last clean mug we had available, I heard Erik rustling around behind me.

“Have you seen my keys?” he asked.

“No, but I’m not surprised you can’t find them in this disaster,” I replied, eyeing the disorganized mess that invaded our apartment.

“Well,” he sneered, “you’re home today so why don’t you do something about it?” he suggested smartly.

I chuckled. “Suuuure,” I began sarcastically, “I mean it’s not like I worked 12 hours last night and only got an hour of sleep this morning.” I took a sip of my coffee and walked past him into the living room. I set the mug down and began looking for his keys, only because I wanted him to leave already. I snaked my hand in between the couch pillows and felt something unusual, but it wasn’t a set of keys. I carefully pulled out a black and white lacy bra from in between the cushions that was neither my style nor my size. Erik was oblivious until I loudly cleared my throat. He turned to look at me and his face went ghost white.

“This,” I whispered, twirling the dinky article of clothing in the air, “is not mine.” I glared at him, anger darkening my eyes.

“It’s not what you think,” he said and then gulped.

“Really?” I was louder now. “Because I can’t think of one reason that this would be in our house that doesn’t involve a naked girl.

“There was a stripper,” he said, speaking quickly. “You were working and the guys came over and it was stupid but we called a stripper and after they all left she got carried away but I told her I had a girlfriend and stopped her before anything happened.”

Lips quivering, I eyed him up and down. The boyfriend that I fell in love with didn’t look like the man standing before me today. “I don’t believe you,” I admitted. I dropped the bra and began shaking my head. “I don’t believe you,” I repeated.

“Well, it’s the truth. And I don’t have time to stand here and convince you. He grabbed the keys he had found and headed towards the door, “we’ll talk tonight,” he shouted before shutting the door. I stood there stunned for a few moments before swallowing back tears and taking action; I had had enough. I found a notepad and pen peeking out from under the disarray of papers on the end table. On it I wrote, I’m done. Goodbye.”I stuck it on the fridge where I knew Erik would see it, grabbed my keys and purse, and walked out.

A week had passed since I left and Erik’s incessant phone calls and text messages and emails had slowed down. The last voicemail was from two days ago.

“Y/N, I don’t know what to do anymore. Please just pick up the phone. I love you and I’m sorry,” he whimpered and then the line went dead.

“Still not talking to him?” my aunt asked, handing me a cup of tea. I shook my head and thanked her, I had always been her favorite niece and she was delighted when I came to stay with her until she found out why. “Do you really think he cheated on you, darling?” I exhaled strongly and shrugged.

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything,” I grumbled, shrugging my shoulders.

“But you miss him,” he said, eyebrows raised. I frowned and nodded; she was right. I did miss him, but I didn’t miss the life we had been living for the past month or so. “Well,” she chirped, “I’m going to go into town and pick up that chocolate cake you like, wouldn’t that be nice?” She had a big smile spread across her face that I couldn’t help but mirror. I nodded emphatically, amused that she still treated me like I was 8 years old.

When she left, I went into the guest bedroom and flipped on the TV. Of course, there was a game on today and for whatever reason, I wanted to watch. I saw Erik jog across the screen and my heart fluttered. What am I doing? I thought. I love him I miss him what am I doing? My thoughts were interrupted by a fiery play and a loud whistle from the official. My eyes grew wide as I saw Erik, face down, laying on the pitch. The medical team came out from the sidelines and he was carried away on a stretcher, grimacing. Without thinking, I jumped up from the bed and grabbed my keys.

I knew they would take him to the biggest hospital in the city, the one where we met for the first time when I was working and he came in with a black eye. My co-workers were anticipating my arrival and directed me straight towards Erik’s room. I walked over and stood outside the door for a second, suddenly realizing that he may not want to see me. I stifled my nerves and knocked, not bothering to wait for a reply before opening the door. “Erik?” I whispered.

His eyes lit up at the sight of me, a smile stretching his cheeks widely. “Y/N? I didn’t think you would…how did you know?” he spoke flustered.

“I-I was watching the game,” I stuttered awkwardly, not really knowing what to do. “Are you ok?” I asked, glancing at his wrapped up ankle and knee.

“yeah, yeah,” he whispered, still staring at me. “I missed you.”

I nodded, tears welling in my eyes, “I missed you too.”

“Why did you just leave like that?” he asked, looking anywhere but at me.

“I don’t—I thought it was what I wanted. I thought you cheated. I thought we really were done,” I whimpered.

“But?” he questioned expectantly.

“But I love you,” I shrugged. “I love you and I miss you and I want us to go back to being us.” I began sobbing. He beckoned me over and I sat next to him on the hospital bed.

“I love you too,” he whispered, cupping my face. “And I’m sorry. But you know I’d never cheat on you, don’t you? Never. I don’t want anyone else.” I nodded, swallowing my sobs. “We’ll go back to being us, as long as we are together, we’ll be fine.” I nodded once more before burying my face in his chest and wrapping my arms around his neck. “Shh,” he cooed, “I promise I’ll stop leaving my clothes lying around.” I laughed and lifted my head to face him.

“I’ll stop nagging,” I grumbled frowning, causing him to laugh.

“See,” he said, “we’re better already.”

Anchors Away- Liam Imagine

Prompt: You find out that you’re Liam’s anchor. 

You were sitting on your couch, eating ice cream from the carton, your glasses on, your hair in a messy bun, your athletic shorts on, and an oversized sweatshirt over your top half. As Noah and Allie were dying in the end of the Notebook, your phone rang with a call from Scott. Of course, you silence your phone to get through the final scene. When the credits rolled, you instantly called him back.

“(Y/N)! Thank god you called me back. The whole pack is here. Liam isn’t really handling his first full moon well. Can you come by and help?” In the background, you heard a low growl and a scream from Kira.

“Oh, sure. I’ll be right there.” You hung up, looking down at your outfit and shrugging, not even caring that you still had your glasses on and you were wearing one of Liam’s old lacrosse sweatshirts. You walked outside and got on your bike (considering you were only a freshman, you couldn’t drive), and pedaled all the way over to Scott’s house. When you walked in the door, you find Kira waiting by the doorway for you.

“Thank goodness you’re here! Hey, wait- are you wearing one of Liam’s sweatshirts?” You blushed, as Kira went on. “And I’ve never seen you in glasses before! Wow, you must’ve been getting ready to go to bed! Anyways, go on up. Scott and Stiles are waiting for you.” You nodded, making your way up the stairs and opening the door to find Liam tied to a chair and his eyes glowing yellow.

“(Y/N)! Oh, finally. Hey, Liam, look, it’s (Y/N)! You know, your best friend?” Stiles said, grabbing your arm and bringing you closer to Liam. His eyes went back to their usual color, and his breathing slowed down. 

“You did it!” Scott exclaimed, hi-fiving Stiles as you looked at him, confused.

“What do you mean?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows.

“You’re his anchor!”

“What? Why?”

Stiles looked between you two, then at Scott. “We’ll be right back. You two obviously have some stuff to talk about.” With one last wink, Stiles and Scott waltzed out the door, shutting it. This left you and Liam alone, him sort-of blushing and looking at the ground. 

“You’re wearing my sweatshirt,” he said, glancing up at you and smiling.

You felt flustered. Picking at the hem of the sweatshirt, you stole a glance at his face. “Um, well, yeah. It’s really comfy and it smells good.” This only caused Liam to smile bigger. “Well, would you care to tell me why I’m your anchor?” you asked, not daring to look at his face. 

“Scott and Stiles told me it has to be something that can pull you back from being a werewolf. Keep you human.” He sighed. “Whenever I need comforting, I think of you. You, your smile, your eyes…and how much I love you.” It took all you could not to gasp. Liam was blushing ferociously, causing you to smile. You’ve known it all along, too; you love Liam. 

“I love you too,” you whispered, but you knew that he could hear you. When you looked up, Liam was grinning like an idiot. You stood up, walking over to him, and kissed him ever so slightly.

“You know, I would’ve made the first move if I wasn’t tied in a chair.” You laughed, helping Liam out of the ties and walking down the stairs.

You were his anchor. And there is nothing more meaningful than that. 

Older Brother's Protection / A Kris Scenario

There’s no sense in hiding it. Being the younger sister of an internationally famous K-Pop and C-Pop star had its perks.

But there was also a deep, dark hole of hate that was far too easy to be sucked into…

“Good morning, ___-ah!” Kris sang through the phone as you were stumbling downstairs. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot.

“Mmm,” You groaned in response, entering the kitchen on the first floor. “You seem bright today.” You began to pour milk into a glass before closing the carton and sliding it back into the fridge.

“For good reason.” You took a gulp from your drink, cocking an eyebrow even though your older brother couldn’t see you. “I’m flying home today!”

You choked and nearly dropped the phone as your hand flew to your chest. It felt like you were breathing through nothing but a pinhole as you struggled to get more oxygen. “You-“

cough, wheeze

“You’re flying back to Canada today? No way!”

“Yes way,” Kris replied. “By the way, Suho wants to know if you’re dying. He can hear you and it’s not even on speaker. You’re not, are you?” Kris chuckled, Suho jabbering Korean in the background.

“I’m alright.” Another cough. “Where are you? An airport? Sounds like it.”

“London International. I’m already halfway home.” He confirmed. “I’m going to call mom with the news, all right? See you soon. Love you.”

“Love ya. Bye,” You responded, a grin making its way onto your face.

Your mother was at work, surely to be surprised as her son called her with the news. The house was silent as you climbed the stairs to the computer chair in your bedroom and plopped down. You sighed and opened Wordpad to finish an essay that was due Monday. Saturday hours ticked by as your fingers tapped monotonously. 

“Time for a break!” You exclaimed as you opened Twitter, Weibo, and YouTube. You pulled up some music before logging into Weibo, clicking on your notifications.

What’s happening? You wondered as thousands of hateful words sprang onto your screen. EXO fans had flooded your page with crusing syllables and poisonous threats.

Just go kill yourself already, you fat ****! The world would be a great place without you

Kris’ sister looks like trash

Ha, his sister IS trash!

and it went on, and on, and on…

When Yi Fan first debuted, he warned you about social media. “I’m nervous about you just having accounts,” He’d said, “but I’m not going to try to control your life. Just don’t give out usernames to anyone you wouldn’t trust with your life, alright?”

You recalled meeting a seemingly friendly girl in school a few weeks back. She was Chinese, bright-eyed and outgoing. “What’s your Weibo?” She had inquired and, thinking nothing of it, you answered her.

”____ Wu.”

She must have done this to you.

Hot tears raced down your cheeks and onto the keys. 

How could they, how could they? The fans, the fans, the fans…

You turned your monitor off, curled into a ball on your bed, and sank into a sleep laced with heart-clenching sadness.


You woke up to the evening’s vanishing light seeping through your pale curtains. You could hear commotion downstairs. 

“Welcome home, Érzi,” Your mother’s sang. She must have picked him up at the airport, You thought, tugging the covers back over your head.

”____!” Kris called out, stomping up the stairs. You turned away from your bedroom door, staring at your digital clock’s red numbers.


The door burst open, the shadow of your giant of a brother hitting the other wall. You slammed your eyes shut.

”__-___…” Kris’ voice lowered considerably when he noticed the lack of lighting and a mound under the covers.

"Someone’s tired. Wake up and talk to me!” He whined, throwing himself right next to you. The smell of your brother nearly pried your wet eyes open, but not quite. 

”___, ___…” He cooed, stroking your unfortunately wet cheek. He drew in a sharp breath.

“Mèimei, have you been crying?” Yi Fan questioned, poking your cheeks. “Why are you sad? I’m home now.”

You dared to open your eyes, coming face-to-face with your older brother. “I’m okay.” You declared pitifully, your voice trembling.

“Ah, no, what’s wrong, ___?” He asked in a low, comforting voice as he crushed you in a hug.

“Someone r-revealed my Weibo,” You answered shamefully. “Some g-girl at school. I thought I could trust her, Xiōngdì, I really did. She acted so kind. Your fans are s-s-so mean, Yi Fan, you wouldn’t believe…” You broke down into tears again, your brother shushing and rocking you.

"It’s alright, sweetheart. You’re okay.” Kris mumbled into your hair. “Delete the Weibo, yeah? I’m so sorry this happened, ____, I’m so sorry. If I could take the hate, I would.” He sat there with you as you cried, snotting all over him.

“I’m sorry…” You apologized after you ran out of tears.

“It’s all my fault anyway, sweetie. I can take boogers.” He joked, stroking your hair. “Come downstairs and eat. Everything’s gonna be okay. But I’m starving and food is proven to be a happiness meter filler.”

You slowly nodded before Kris gently pulled you out of bed and downstairs. You rubbed your eyes before greeting your mother.

Hate is awful, crushing, and deteriorating, but at least you always had your older brother’s protection and love.


A/N: Booyah! There it is. My first scenario on this blog. I really hope you enjoyed it. Older brother Kris. Swoon. -Admin H

You have a fight and one of you storms out (part 1)


You were sitting at home watching TV when Ashton got home, he slammed the door shut as he walked in and you got startled a bit. “hey hun” you called out but you only got a mumbled “hey” in reply. “You ok?” you asked as you turned the volume down a bit. “Yeah, sure, whatever you want it to be” he spat and walked into the kitchen. You stood up and followed him into the kitchen “excuse me?” you asked confused. He didn’t say anything while he opened the fridge and took out a milk carton and poured himself a glass and took out of the drawer a pack of Oreos. He turned his back at you and you noticed that he poured the rest of the milk in the glass then closed the carton and put it back in the fridge. “Can you please not put an empty milk carton back into the fridge, we’ve been over this a thousand times” you asked as you tried to stay calm. “You probably wouldn’t say that to him” he mumbled quietly, but it was loud enough for you to hear. “Who?” you asked kinda pissed. He just ignored you. “Why are you ignoring me Ash?” you asked as he turned around. “You wanna know? you really wanna know? alright, I’ll tell you, I know you’ve been cheating on me” he spat at you. “What?” you asked confused once again. “Yeah, I hear rumours too you know” he said angry, he was practically yelling. “I’m sorry, you heard that I cheated on you, where did you hear that?” “ it was on Twitter and Instagram” he yelled. “Why are you yelling at me?” you yelled at him. “Because you fucking cheated on me” he yelled. “When?” you asked calmer and crossed your arms, you were trying so hard not to cry but it was getting hard. “I don’t know, I just know that you did it” he yelled but he sounded a bit confused. “With who?” you asked again. “I don’t know” he spat. “Well, the next time you accuse me of cheating on you then you better have your damn facts straight Ashton, I love you, I would never cheat” you said as you stormed out of the house leaving Ashton alone confused.

You were at Ashton’s place with the boys playing cards and having fun. Luke said a funny joke and you laughed, then you heard Michael say “hey Y/N, you have crooked teeth, I never noticed” you immediately closed your mouth and smiled uncomfortably. “Omg yeah, open your mouth” Luke said and had a huge grin on his face. You covered your mouth and said “in your dreams Hemmings” they all laughed and kept on firing jokes at you. You looked at your boyfriend Calum and hoping he would say something to make them stop. He just laughed and told you to take your hand from your mouth. Calum knew that you hated your teeth and wanted to get them fixed as soon as possible but now he was kinda a dick about it. After a while they stopped. At this moment you were feeling really insecure about your teeth as if they weren’t perfect enough for them. When you got home you had to hold back the tears. You looked at Calum and said “why didn’t you say something” you asked and did everything in your power to hold back the tears. “What are you talking about” he said and still had that huge grin on his face. “Back at Ashton’s place, you were making jokes and laughing at my teeth, you know I hate them enough already” you said and a tear started streaming down your cheek. “Y/N it was just a joke, no need to get worked up about it” he said seriously. “Calum, it’s not a joke when someone starts crying” you said pissed. “well, maybe you should stop crying then” he said and took out his phone. “What?” you asked pissed. “You heard me, if you weren’t so damn sensitive we wouldn’t be having this argument” he said and started scrolling through his instagram feed. “Calum, that’s not the point here, the point is that your friends were making fun of you girlfriend about a very sensitive topic and you just laugh and don’t do anything about it, if I was making fun of you, you wouldn’t find this funny” you said and grabbed your coat. “Call me when you grow a pear” you said and stormed out.

You were at a coffee house with your friend who wasn’t very fund of Luke tbh. You had been talking all day when the topic suddenly took a turn and was about Luke, and it wasn’t from your end. “I hate to tell you this but I think Luke’s cheating on you” she said seriously. “Why do you think that?” you asked confused. “Well, mainly because my friend told me and I remember the other day when Luke was like four hours late home and you called me crying, well that night my friend told me that she’d seen him with a chick and they were making out and then I saw it on some gossip site on Facebook” she said deadly serious. You were confused and angry, you remembered that night like it was yesterday although it had just been last week. You excused yourself and went home. On the way home you started thinking and noticed that he had been acting a little bit strange lately. When you got home Luke was on the phone. “Yeah, I know, I’ll see you tonight… What?… No, Y/N doesn’t know about this” you heard him say. You didn’t want to hear about this anymore so you walked into the kitchen and crossed your arms. “I gotta go, bye” he said and hung up. “Hey” he said and smiled. “Who was that?” you asked pissed. “C-Calum” he said quickly. “Oh really?, what did he want?” you asked. “He was just checking if I wasn’t coming to rehearsals tonight” he said quickly. “Luke, you’re on a break, what’s going on?” you asked as the tears filled your eyes but you weren’t gonna let them fall, so you tried as hard as you could to hold them back. “What?, nothing, there’s nothing going on” he said and furrowed his eyebrows. “Oh really, then where were you when you came home four hours late last week?” you asked “I can’t say” he said pissed. “Why the fuck not?” you asked and started to raise your voice. What exactly are you accusing me of here Y/N?“ he asked confused. "What’s her name?” you asked as you tried to hold in a tear. “What?” he asked and walked over to you and stood right in front of you, he looked like he wanted to hug you but he didn’t. “Y/F/N said that her friend had seen you make out with some chick last week, the day you had come home late” you said and a tear rolled down your cheek. “Y/ N I’m not cheating on you” he said and wrapped his arms around you but you pushed him away. “Don’t touch me” you said angry. “Look, I’m not cheating but I can’t tell you why I came home late, I’m not gonna stand here and fight with you over something I didn’t do, goodbye” he said and walked out the door and slammed it behind him leaving you all alone and vulnerable.

You and Michael had been together for a while and you noticed that Michael played video games a lot… One time you really wanted to go shopping for a birthday present for your mutual friend but he didn’t want to go. “Michael, please you’ve been playing on your computer all weekend, you haven’t even gone with me to bed all weekend” you said as you put on some eyeshadow. “C'mon Y/N stop nagging me” he said as he pounded the remote of his xbox. “Jesus Christ Michael, the only thing you ever do is play this fucking computer” you snapped at him. “If I would stand in front of you naked you wouldn’t even notice” you said and you noticed a smirk on his face. “ you know what Michael ,I’m sick and tired of this, you are 19 years old but you’re acting like a ten year old” you snapped. “Y/N calm down, I’m just playing a little video game that’s all” he said and laughed like you were a total idiot. “Michael, can you stop playing your video game and take me a bit seriously” you said really pissed. “Y/N calm down, it’s just a game” he said “if it’s just a game the why the hell is it more important the me” you almost yelled. “Jesus Christ Y/N” he said and paused the game and stood up and walked up to you. “What’s your problem Y/N?” he yelled. “You’re my problem Michael, you’re so fucking in love with this computer that you barely pay any attention to me, your girlfriend if you didn’t notice” you yelled back. “Oh, I noticed alright, the only thing you ever do is complain about the computer” he yelled back “that’s because the only thing you ever do is play on the stupid computer” you yelled back and you8 could feel the tears coming, but you didn’t want to stop them, you wanted to see how you felt about this and the only thing you could do that was to show your emotions. “Oh c'mon stop crying” he said pissed. “We can’t even have an argument because you always play the cry card” he practically yelled. “Becuase I what?” you asked pissed. “You. Always. Play. The. Cry. Card” he said and turned around and walked back into the living room and pressed play in his game. “You know what…” you said as tears streamed down your face “you can just date your fucking xbox since it’s so important, I’m done” you said and left.

A.N: so yeah, this was requested :D, I know that some of those are longer then the others but I just got so into it :3, but anyways, hope you liked it and please send me requests and I’ll gladly do it, byyee :D


Kasim wakes up thirsty, hungry and disoriented. It takes him a moment to get his bearings and remember his whereabouts. When he notices Dylan isn’t lying beside him, he pokes his nose in the air, hoping to catch a whiff of some bacon or pancakes. Disappointed by the distinct smell of nothing, he sits up on the side of the bed.

Kasim: Dylan!

When she doesn’t answer, he stands and does a series of stretches to loosen his muscles, then slips into his boxers. He leaves the bedroom, which opens into the kitchen and is greeted to the sight of a bare stove and counter tops. After all the work he put in making Dylan cum not once, but twice, the very least she could do was make him breakfast. Kasim sucks his teeth in annoyance and pulls the refrigerator door open, scanning the contents for something to drink.

Kasim: Dylan!

When she still doesn’t respond, he reaches for a container of juice and knowing that he’s dead wrong, shrugs nonchalantly and puts the carton up to his head.

As far as he’s concerned, with all the places Dylan’s mouth has been on his body, the last thing she has to worry about is drinking behind him. He stands for an eternity taking long satisfying swallows of the juice. When his thirst is sufficiently quenched, he shakes the container, realizes there isn’t enough juice left for a full glass and puts the carton back to his head to finish it off. When he turns to put the empty carton in the trash compacter, he notices Dylan.

A quick wave of panic comes over him, before his lips curl into a dismissive smirk.

Kasim: That shit’s supposed to be funny? You don’t have nothing better to do with yourself?

Shaking his head, he walks past her naked body and goes into the bathroom. He raises his voice over the sound of his pee hitting the toilet water.

Kasim: You need to get up, stop acting stupid and make me something to eat. You play too damn much.

<< previous | next >>

May 18, 2015

  1. Taurus

  2. Capricorn

  3. Cancer
     Italian cuisine

  4. Aries
     Your own room

  5. Pisces
     Glass accessories
     Light blue

  6. Virgo

  7. Sagittarius
     Hair care products

  8. Libra
     Pet shop

  9. Leo
     Sports gym

  10. Scorpio

  11. Aquarius
     Note book

  12. Gemini

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): Avengers - Steve Rogers/Captain America, feat. Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Rating: PG

Original Idea: The wonderful URL of the Tumblr who sent me one of the nicest things I’ve ever received about my writing - @daydreamer-eyes!

Notes: Like I said, I don’t usually dedicate one-shots. But I had to write this because @daydreamer-eyes has always been so kind and supportive. There are so many others I could do this for, and I want you to know I appreciate every single one of you, but for now this will have to do.



You sit between Steve and Bucky, staring across the room. You’re not a big fan of Tony’s “team meetings”. They mostly consist of him standing in front of everyone mocking everyone and giving a very dramatic performance of what is supposed to be a debriefing.

Bucky is looking very bored, and Steve is looking annoyed. He and Tony never got along. You know that tension between the two men had been mounting for years. And one day it’s going to peak. One or the other will snap and they’ll fight. It’ll be brutal. It’ll be bloody. You’re sure of it. You’re not sure how you know—maybe they have more self-control than you give them credit for but that’s not likely—you just do. It’ll be bad.

Steve snaps his fingers in front of your face. The rest of the team has left, leaving you and both the super soldiers. “Hey, Daydreamer Eyes!”

You shake your head to clear it. “Huh?” you ask—eloquently.

“Look, we can all tell you’re not paying attention during meetings. And none of us want to pay attention during meetings. But you’re so obviously daydreaming that Tony was doing his best impression of a Barbie doll and you didn’t notice,” Steve tells you.

“What?” you exclaim. Bucky smirks but remains silent—he does that a lot.

“Mm-hmm. That’s what you get for daydreaming.”

“How can you tell I’m not paying attention?” you ask, even though you’re pretty sure you know the answer. You do try to make it look like you’re listening while your mind wanders but…

“Those daydreamer-eyes. They don’t focus and they stare between people’s heads.”

“Not to mention they don’t move or blink,” Bucky adds. You chuckle lightly.

Steve holds his hand out to you as Bucky pushes himself out of his chair. You take Steve’s hand and he hauls you to your feet. After you stumble against him because he’s so strong he over-pulls, you straighten. “So what are what was the meeting about?” you ask. The super soldiers exchange a glace—like they’re debating whether or not to tell you the truth—which wouldn’t surprise you in the least if they made something up.

“We’re headed to Hungary in the morning. Budapest,” Bucky says concisely. You nod. The last time you were in Budapest on a mission, it was lovely. “For now, we’re going to get some stuff ready, if you care to join us.”

“I’m always up for joining you two,” you joke. Steve chuckles lightly and Bucky even cracks a smile.

The three of you leave the meeting room, talking quietly as you pass a couple SHIELD agents who always mill about the building. Once you’re out of earshot, you talk a bit louder. Bucky, fairly characteristically, stays mostly silent. It’s mostly you and Steve talking about what you’re looking forward to on the mission. When you reach a storeroom, you notice Steve’s eyes have gone glassy. He’s stopped walking and he’s staring blankly at the equipment surrounding the three of you on all sides. He’s probably having some sort of flashback, if you have to guess.

He’s a soldier. So is Bucky. You’ve seen this look on both of them several times. A thousand-yard stare. Usually a look like that is characteristic of a war-weary, exhausted, probably traumatized soldier.

“Hey, daydreamer-eyes,” you tease gently, nudging him in the arm.

He shakes his head—probably to clear it—and looks down at you. “That’s how it is, huh?” he jokes.

“Oh that’s how it is,” you reply, copying his tone. He chuckles.

You, Steve, and Bucky assemble the gear you’ll need. It takes a couple hours because you keep coming upon random bits and pieces of things none of you realized even existed. “Whoa!” Steve exclaims. “This looks like a lightsaber handle!”

“It is,” Bucky comments. “I made it ages ago.”

You grin. Briefly you remember that Bucky is a giant science nerd and really took to Star Wars when the team watched the original trilogy for movie night (certain plot twists he and Steve weren’t expecting caused them to leap to their feet in shock, shouting at the TV). You suspect it has something to do with the fact that someone loses an arm in pretty much every single movie of the saga but he’s never confirmed nor denied that.

“Really?” Steve asks.

Bucky shrugs. “Sure. It was pretty easy. The hard part is making a working blade.”

You snicker. “Don’t tell Tony. He’ll do it,” you joke.

“Don’t tell Tony what?”

“Speak of the devil,” you mutter as the billionaire enters the storage room. Steve flashes the lightsaber hilt behind his back.

“That I was very unimpressed with your Barbie doll impression,” you put in nonchalantly.

“Oh puh-lease, Miss Daydreamer-Eyes! You weren’t even paying attention to my Barbie doll impression! That was the point of why I did it!” Tony sasses. You shrug. To a certain extent you’ve been through with putting up with his endless supply of crap for about three months now. Sometimes he was genuinely funny. Other times… not so much.

You take a step towards the door. “See you on the jet—bright and early,” you remark.

Steve follows you out, closely tailed by Bucky. Your duffel bags are all full of the equipment you’ll need to head to Budapest. “Think Natasha and Clint will tell us what happened the last time they were in Budapest together?” Steve asks conversationally.

You snort. “No! They’ll never tell anyone—just because it’s the one mission we all want to know about,” you say. Steve makes his ‘seems legit’ face and the three of you walk to your rooms for the night.

At about two in the morning, a knock comes from your door. “Psst! Daydreamer!” Steve hisses.

“Mmm?” you mutter.

“Can you disarm FRIDAY? She’s a little intimidating with your door pointing a red laser at my chest.”

Internally you curse. You forgot to turn her off “Panic Mode” after Pietro scared the living daylights out of you the night before. You roll out of bed and push the button to calm down the program that ran the facility since JARVIS became Vision. After a moment, you open the door to see Steve and his messy blond bedhead looking a bit sheepish. “Hi,” you greet sleepily.

“I, uh, I… I had a nightmare and I didn’t want to… wake anyone else.”

You sigh and hold your arms out. “Come here, big guy,” you mutter.

He bends down and gives you a hug. You hold him gently and rub his back. He’s a bit of a sad giraffe wrapped around a zebra in terms of height comparison, but he feels like you’re holding a furnace.

You pull him deeper into your room and sit him down on your bed. From your mini-fridge you extract a carton of milk. While he stares at you, you pour out the milk into a glass, stick the carton back in the fridge, and cross back over to him. You hold out the glass without a word.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, accepting it and taking a drink.

You sit down next to him on the bed and tilt your head to the side, wrapping your arm around his broad, powerful shoulders. “Wanna talk about it?” you ask gently.

He sighs and rests his head on your shoulder. “No.”

“You can’t keep everything in, all the time, you know,” you remark. “It’s not good for you.”

“It was just a dream. It was the war. All over again.”

He finishes the milk and just keeps his head on your shoulder. You stroke his hair and hold him close. You were never quite sure what your relationship with him was, exactly, but you liked being around him and he seemed very relaxed around you. This isn’t the first time he’s turned up at your room in the middle of the night having had a nightmare. The first time it had scared you to death—why on Earth was someone knocking on your door at two AM?!—but after a while, you expected it at least twice a month. Sometimes more, depending on the month. He seemed to turn up a lot in January.

After a while, he falls back asleep, body weight suddenly dropping limp. All 220-240 pounds fall on you and you drop backward onto the bed. Gently, so as not to wake him up, you extricate yourself from under him and drape a blanket over him. He’ll sleep through the night now. Tiptoeing, you slide out of your room and go to his. This has happened before too—in fact, Steve insisted you take his much bigger bed whenever he fell asleep on you.

The next morning, as FRIDAY rings a collective team alarm, you roll out of Steve’s bed and head for your room to go get dressed. “Why are you leaving Steve’s room?” Bucky asks as he emerges from his own—probably having been up a half hour before the alarm went off.

“He fell asleep in my room last night after he had a bad dream,” you answer. Bucky knows about the strange dynamic you and Steve have, but he never presses.

Halfway between your room and Steve’s you turn a corner and bump into the soldier himself.

“Thank you,” he says. “For letting me come in and for making me feel better.”

You grin. “Well, you’re very welcome, Captain. Glad I could help.”

“I’m glad you could too—daydreamer-eyes.” He gives you a wink.

You drop your head. “That’s not going away any time soon,” you mutter.