her face and her voice and everything

4

I was rewatching 6.8 again and something struck me about this scene. 

In this scene we see Delia talking about Patsy, she’s scared and alone. Patsy is the only one who truly understands and knows her. They quite literally piece together like a jigsaw and are not whole without one another. When Delia can’t get in touch with Patsy she fears she’ll never be whole again, she’ll never experience love in that way again and no one will truly understand her. “she’s vanished” and “i’ve just disappeared” emphasises that they cannot truly exist without one another. In this scene Delia is facing the heartbreaking possibility of a future without Patsy.

But what struck me about this scene is that everything Delia is voicing is exactly how Patsy would have felt when Delia had her accident. Delia had no memory of Patsy following the accident, Delia wasn’t herself and therefore became someone Patsy “knew once.” Delia’s memory had vanished and thus all recollection of her relationship with Patsy. She couldn’t be reached during this time. And it was as if Delia had vanished from Patsy. Patsy faced the heartbreaking possibility of a future without Delia. 

It’s not exactly a parallel but it’s interesting to see that they’ve now both experienced the fear of having to live without one another. How they’ve both had to face a future alone, knowing they’d never be who they truly are again without one another.

Red, Revisited

I wrote and posted this a few years ago, from the inspiration and with a little advice/assistance from a certain local wolf (@desayunogratis). I was thinking about it recently and decided to post it again. Enjoy. It’s really fucking long (around 3,500 words) so I’m putting the bulk of it behind a read more.


“Red! Git your lazy ass in here!”

Red rolled her eyes and shuffled towards the sound of her stepfather’s voice. Her name wasn’t Red, but if you asked her she’d tell you it was. People had been calling her that since, as a young girl, she developed an affinity for a particular hooded cloak. She wore it everywhere, with everything, the hood always covering her head and partially obscuring her face, no matter the weather. As that cloak was red, and was typically the first if not only thing you ever saw of the girl, the nickname made sense at the time.

It didn’t make much sense now, as she’d long outgrown both that red cloak and the childish predilection to wear a particular favorite item of clothing all day every day regardless of its suitability. But people still called her Red. It was a small town, and the people who lived in it were conventional, conservative people who generally disliked change–so the idea of ceasing something simply because it no longer made sense didn’t hold much appeal.

“What?” She peered around the corner and saw him sitting in his favorite recliner, his hand down his pants, watching some auto race.

“I needja git down ta town ‘n git me s’more beers. And don’t you dawdle like you do, s’almost supper time.”

When Red’s mother died in somewhat mysterious circumstances that are still talked about in town (probably owing to the fact that those circumstances were neither conventional nor conservative, but in fact quite suspicious), everyone, including Red herself, assumed the girl would go to live with her grandmother. Red’s grandmother was a bit eccentric, lived alone way out in the woods, away from town, and hadn’t left her house in many years. Rumor had it she was infirm and incapable of making the trek through the woods to town. The truth was she was addicted to reality television and the internet, and Red enabled those twin addictions by bringing food and other necessities to her grandmother because she loved the woman too much to see the truth. Still, as far as the town’s dowagers and denizens were concerned, Red and her grandmother had a close and loving relationship, and the newly-orphaned Red surely would be sent to stay with her.

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Listening to the voice of disabled people regarding disabled representation is crucial. Doing otherwise means that you’re just willing to instrumentalize us and that your piece of media is inherently bad. I’m saying it as someone who is autistic, as well as someone who actually was almost ableist a couple days ago.

I watched this movie, “Hush”, on Netflix. It’s about a deaf woman, a writer, who has to face a serial killer and is using everything around her and in her soul to survive. I was very moved by this movie because the woman protagonist was strong, willful, fierce. I thought to myself “That’s what i want to see in a movie with an autistic protagonist !”.

I was going to post a very positive review, but i’ve decided, at the last moment, to check out some reviews about the movie written by members of the Deaf community. I was shocked. What i thought was good representation was actually terrible.

The actress was not deaf herself, her use of the ASL was almost ridiculous, they weren’t accurate at all most of the time, and, apparently, the director of this movie was very dismissive towards members of the Deaf Community who tried to reach them.

I’m not deaf myself or hard-of-hearing. I discovered with this experience that i know nothing about deafness and the Deaf community and i feel a bit ashamed about the fact that i almost praised this movie as a very good representation. I was ignorant, but ignorance is not an excuse. I need to educate myself.

What i mean is that you definitely need disabled people’s input on your creation, if you want to include us as characters. No matter what disability you’re talking about.

“Stay,” he said, his voice rough stone. “Stay in Ketterdam. Stay with me.”
She looked down at his gloved hand clutching hers. Everything in her wanted to say yes, but she would not settle for so little, not after all she’d been through. “What would be the point?”
He took a breath. “I want you to stay. I want you to … I want you.”
“You want me.” She turned the words over. Gently, she squeezed his hand. “And how will you have me, Kaz?”
He looked at her then, eyes fierce, mouth set. It was the face he wore when he was fighting.
"How will you have me?” she repeated. “Fully clothed, gloves on, your head turned away so our lips can never touch?” 
He released her hand, his shoulders bunching, his gaze angry and ashamed as he turned his face to the sea.
Maybe it was because his back was to her that she could finally speak the words. “I will have you without armor, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all.

[Six of Crows, Leigh Bardugo]

It’s Always Her pt. 2

James Potter x Reader

Request: Multiple for part 2

A/N: Describing the food was literally so much more detailed than any love scene I’ve ever done

Originally posted by johnintheskywithdiamonds

The dull moonlight shines through the haphazardly curtained windows, keeping Y/N awake for far longer than she had intended to be. James’ incredulous, almost pitying face keeps replaying in her mind and doesn’t fail to make her cringe each time she pictures it.

“You know I – Lily –”

She groans and rolls over, grabbing the pillow and covering her face with it in an attempt to block out everything. It almost works – the suffocating blackness has her drifting off to sleep when the door creaks open.

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Lie about love - Dean Winchester x Reader

Title: Lie about love

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Castiel x Reader (slight, not really)

Warnings: Possessed Reader

Prompt: Reader gets possessed and tells Dean lies about reader&cas just to hurt him, but then cas comes and exorcises the demon and Dean thinks that what the demon said was true (bc of huggin etc) but then time skip reader tells the truth about her feelings?

“Do you think she’d ever have feelings for you? Dean Winchester?” she scoffed, spite in her voice but Dean couldn’t bring himself entirely to hate it because it was your face, it was your voice, it was your eyes- your everything that he actually loved. He couldn’t bring himself to be strong an face the monster because he was actually facing the woman he loved more than anything. She laughed. But it was not the same laugh that would usually make his heart skip a beat because unfortunately it was no longer you that laughed.

“Like hell” she scoffed “She’d rather kill herself than fall for you, much less get any closer as far as a relationship is concerned.” she said in a hiss “You’re one big damn flaw, Dean. Broken, in every possible way. You are a mess, a man with daddy issues, womanizer and an alcoholic. What would she ever want to do with you?” she scoffed and Dean swallowed down the lump in his throat.

He fought so hard to not let it show how much your words were getting to him.Because he knew it wasn’t yours words exactly it was her words because she was the one speaking. But in the very end she was inside you, she could see all of your thoughts and feelings. How could Dean be sure she was only lying to him?

“Shut up.” Dean growled, his hands not even flexing to throw the holly water at you like he would do with any other demon. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt you not even when it wasn’t actually you.

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A Subtle Crush (Tom Riddle x Reader)

Tom’s eyes veered away from his textbooks as he heard a collision in the hallway he was walking down. He was making his way down to Slughorn’s Potions class, when he witnessed this unexpected mishap.

A girl with (H/L) (H/C) haired had been accidentally bumped into by a boy, leading to papers and notebooks flying everywhere. Immediately, the girl bent down to help pick up everything.

“I’m so sorry!” the boy exclaimed, handing over the parchment that didn’t belong to him. “I wasn’t looking -”

“Don’t worry about it!” Her sweet voice replied, a bright smile on her face as she returned the boy’s things as well. Taking her stuff from him, she brushed off her robes and Tom took note of the house colours she wore. “It happens to everyone! Don’t feel bad. Are you okay?”

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Nessian Parallels

Nesta’s throat bobbed. “Please.” I didn’t think I’d ever heard that word from her mouth. “Please—do not leave us to face this alone.”
The eldest queen remained unmoved. I had no words in my head.
We had shown them … we had … we had done everything. Even Rhys was silent, his face unreadable.
But then Cassian crossed to Nesta, the guards stiffening as the Illyrian moved through them as if they were stalks of wheat in a field.
He studied Nesta for a long moment. She was still glaring at the queens, her eyes lined with tears—tears of rage and despair, from that fire that burned her so violently from within. When she finally noticed Cassian, she looked up at him.
His voice was rough as he said, “Five hundred years ago, I fought on battlefields not far from this house. I fought beside human and faerie alike, bled beside them. I will stand on that battlefield again, Nesta Archeron, to protect this house—your people. I can think of no better way to end my existence than to defend those who need it most.”
I watched a tear slide down Nesta’s cheek. And I watched as Cassian reached up a hand to wipe it away.

 I was quote flicking for writing purposes but I think this part is interesting for a reason that…Has never really been talked about. But I think it’s incredibly important that at no point in this scene does Cassian say ‘you’. He does not say ‘I will protect you’ he says that he will protect her house, her people. He will protect what is important to her. 

Nesta in this scene implores the queens not to forsake them but instead to help them. She says that there is no way they will all be able to evacuate (’they’ meaning all of the humans beneath the wall. All of them) She asks the queens not to abandon them. Not her and Elain. Not her household. Not her estates. Not even her town. All of them. People. Her people. 

And what Cassian says and does that so moves her and is so important to her is not that he will defend her. He doesn’t swear that he’ll be her shield and stand before her and ensure she is protected. He swears to return to war, to stand on a battlefield again, to fight- his kind and hers side by side again as it once was- to defend her people, those who cannot fight for themselves. 

And this is…Even more interesting because this is what Nesta does, and has always done, as well. 

Nesta would buy Elain time to run. Not my father, whom she resented with her entire steely heart. Not me, because Nesta had always known and hated that she and I were two sides of the same coin, and that I could fight my own battles. But Elain, the flower-grower, the gentle heart … Nesta would go down swinging for her.

This is really, really early on in ACOTAR but it gets overlooked a lot, I think, and leads to Nesta being misunderstood a lot as well. I’ve meta’d a lot on Nesta and Feyre before and I’ve pointed out that Feyre would probably have either resented Nesta for trying to take over and not letting her do what needed to be done or just been downright baffled for it. Nesta doesn’t bother fighting for Feyre here because she knows Feyre is more than capable of doing that herself. She’ll fight instead for Elain - Elain who can’t fight or defend herself in that way. And we see this again when Nesta goes to the Wall for Feyre because something felt wrong. Something about Tamlin and the lie he sold Feyre didn’t sit right with her and so when her sister actually did need her, Nesta tried to find her. (Which very neatly parallels Feyre warning Nesta of Tomas as well - because there was something wrong there too but that’s another meta) 

The point is that Cassian here not only recognises that Nesta does not need anyone to fight her battles for her, and would likely hate them if they tried (this is..a big part of why she and Feyre clash. Nesta resents having to rely on her little sister, she resents Feyre doing this thing that she can’t and looking after her - looking after all of them) and Cassian gets that. 

This woman does not need anyone to fight for her or protect her or coddle her. They understand each other He fights for the same reasons and the same kinds of people that she fights for: those who cannot fight themselves. 

TL;DR: Cassian does not promise to fight her battles for her. He promises to fight her battles with her. 

The Storm Within

Shawn was happy to have a few sunny days in LA to relax. A little break from the hectic tour schedule was good for him, and he might deny it but he had missed her. He denied it, just like he had ignored the fluttering of his heart when she had replied to his message with a simple: I’ll be there.

She was waiting for him and when he called out her name, she turned towards him a big toothy smile spreading across her face. Her eyes crinkling as she pranced towards him. He felt like someone had run him over with a bulldozer. She animatedly talked, bringing him up to date with all the gossip he had missed out on. He listened, enraptured by her voice, as she laughed and smiled and talked about everything and nothing. She spotted a record shop and begged him to go in to see if they had his album. He relented and followed her into the shop a smile curving his own lips. She started searching methodically through all the racks until she found a copy of Illuminate.

She examines the cover and when she looks at him again, her eyes have a mischievous glint in them. Oh no… She asks him questions and pokes at him, commenting on his hair, the guitar, the chair, his soulful expression.

Yes, he was asked to look into the distance.

Of course it’s a real guitar!

Yes, he still has it.

No, he doesn’t think his expression is that of a  “dramatically tortured soul”.

She keeps making fun of him, but he knows she doesn’t mean it. He remembers how she called him in tears when she had first listened to Hold On. He understands she is just trying to make him feel comfortable. After a lengthy discussion about his boots  - Yes he really does wear them in public – they exit the record shop only to get caught in the rain a few minutes later. Y/N shrieks when fat drops of rain start falling on her. He pulls her along as he starts running to his apartment, holding hands and laughing as they get soaked to the bone. Reaching his apartment, he pries the keys out of his wet jeans. He opens the door ushering her inside.          

Panting, laughing, desperatly trying to catch their breath, Shawn closes the door of his apartment. Locking the storm out, turning to Y/N only to hear his breath hitch. Wringing out her hair, her makeup washed away by the torrential rain and her wet shirt clinging to every curve, he had never seen her look more breathtaking.

She is beautiful.

She is off-limits.

She is gorgeous.

She is forbidden.

She is a goddess.

She is untouchable.

She is his.

Only she wasn’t, Shawn desperatly tries to keep himself together. But she was making it so difficult, looking at him with bright eyes full of trust and laughter. A private smile, reserved for her closest, truest friends. Swallowing thickly he looks away from her fearing what he might do should she look at him with her trustful eyes again. She is not his. Shaking his head he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes.

“Shawn…” her melodic voice was a sweet drug wafting towards him, enchanting him, a poison slithering on his skin ruining him for any other woman. Pressing his eyes closed, he asquiesces with a barely managed nod. He jolts when he feels her small hand touch his arm, searing his skin. Still he doesn’t look at her, he can’t look at her.

Anger and disappointment were rearing their ugly heads as she grasps the edge of her shirt and pulls it over her head. Shawn was still refusing to so much as look at her. Look at me. Unbuttoning her pants she peels them from her damp skin and discarding them on the floor. Still, Shawn’s shaking form does not look her way. She feels a sudden rush of courage fueled by anger roar through her. Look at me. She grasps his face in her hands forcing him to look at her. Startled Shawn’s hazel eyes fly open. His eyes skirt her figure. She feels his jaw clench shut even tighter at the sight of her bra clad breasts. Look at me. Determined to show him that he could not simply get away with furtive glances and heated gazes when he thought she wasn’t looking, she brings his face closer to her own. A panicked expression settles upon his features.

“We can’t… Y/N we can’t.” he feebly protests, his gazed fixed on her pink lips.

“Shawn I want to…” she breathes against his lips. “Don’t you?” He feels the confidence seeping out her. He feels her determination leave her. He knows in this moment, if he says no she would never again look at him the same way. She would move on, she wouldn’t look at him with the hint of a promise of more ever again. She would settle for friendship with him. A better man maybe would come along and would treat her the way he wanted to treat her.

A fierce pang of jealousy echoes through his body. She was his. His. Not anyone elses. He let loose a low moan as he brought his lips to his. Finally, finally, finally he is tasting her. Her breath hitches in the most delicious way as he wraps his arms around her waist lifting her up and pressing her against the door. Her arms wrap around his neck, and her legs lock around his waist. Perfect. She fits against him perfectly.

“I do, I do, I do.” He moans into her mouth. Her mouth opens on a silent plea for more. His calloused hand slides across the skin of her smooth back, bringing her body closer to his. Not close enough, Shawn lets out a frustrated groan. Detaching himself from Y/N, he quickly takes his shirt off. Y/N barely has time to let loose a whispered wail of discontent that Shawn is already reclaiming her mouth with a bruising force. She sighs happily into his mouth, but he is not close enough to her. He has to be closer, much closer to her. He moves his lips to the glorious column of her neck. Mouthing kisses against her skin he feels her throat vibrate on a hushed moan as her nails dig into his shoulders.

He breaks. He stumbles through the apartment, towards the bedroom. He needs to be able to lie her down, to bare her completely to him. He needs to see her body, he needs to feel her body. Gently lying her down on the bed he sits up and takes off his wet jeans.

“Take it all off.” She whispers, looking into his eyes.

“You’ve never…? Have you?” He breathes the question. She shakes her head, a blush blossoming on her cheeks and making it’s way down her neck.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks holding his breath, expecting, knowing she will say no as she realises the extent of what is about to happen.

She squares her shoulders, looks him straight in the eye and affirms:

“Yes I want to. I want to with you.” Her answers shatters the last of his decency, as he discards his boxers. He quickly fetches a condom from his bedside table throws it on the bed next to her and crawls up her body.

Fuck…” Shawn kisses her cheek, her mouth, leaving a trail of fiery kisses down her neck. Her breathing coming in fast puffs as he slowly makes his way towards her breasts. He sucks a deep purple bruise between them. A bruise that will remind her of this instant for weeks. A proof for this unbelievable moment. He slips his hand behind her and manages after a few tries to undo her bra, throwing it aside. She is turning her eyes away, shying away from his gaze. Don’t. He hadn’t realized he had said it out loud until she turns her head looking down where his hot breath fanned over her breast. As he licks at her nipple, he watches with delight as she tries to squirm away from his touch only to realise she cannot escape his touch as his arms are on either side of her body. She is at his mercy. He sucks her nipple into his mouth and watches her mouth drop open, a murmured Shawn escaping her lips. He lets his teeth graze the tip of her nipple, the genuine cry of shock she lets out, music to his ears. He can’t quite believe that he is here with the girl he calls his best friend.

Seeking support her hand grasps the nape of his neck. Beautiful, he thinks as he moves lower on her body, continuing his exploration of her body by leaving kisses on her soft stomach. Her hand curls more firmly around his neck, he reaches for it, clasps it in his own and presses it into the mattress at her side. His right hand sinks lower towards the hem of her underwear, panting, he slowly removes the wet garment from her body. And oh so slowly she is revealed to him. So fucking perfect, and his, always his. In a sudden bout of hesitation she tries to close her legs, but no she can’t, he won’t allow her to hide herself. No. He wraps his hand around her round thigh and settles himself between them. His erection nudges the soft skin on the inside of her thigh, he bites his lip a muffled moan of her name slipping through. He looks into her eyes, had she not known him for so many years she would not have detected the hesitation in his gaze. But she confirms her intentions by very slowly letting her hand travel down the planes of his stomach, over his abdomen until finally she reaches his thick cock. She wraps her hands carefully around his shaft. Fuck.This moment, how long had he dreamed about this precise moment. How many times had he woken up, a palm pressed against his crotch and her name on his lips. Too many. He cannot stop his hips from thrusting into her small fist. He drops his forehead to hers, closing his eyes and thoroughly enjoying the feel of her hand against his hot skin. A broken moan leaves his mouth as she flicks the tip with her thumb, his other hand still entwined with hers tightening its grip. His arm trembles with the sheer effort to keep his weight from crushing her smaller frame. He squints his eyes open, looking into her eyes, her pupils blown wide with desire and wonder. He had tried to ignore his feelings, frantically pushed them aside when they bubbled up in his chest at the thought of her, of her smile, of her eyes. And yet she had long ago bewitched him, casting a spell on him. She had never asked for his heart, yet he realised she had always owned it. She bites her soft pink lips, taunting him, tempting him to kiss them. He crushes his mouth against hers in a violently desperate kiss. Swallowing her mewls of pleasure, he revels in her taste. He pulls back, leaving barely an inch between their lips.

“Are you sure?” he breathes against her swollen mouth. He closes his eyes, not being able to bear the thought of a rejection. Her hand squeezes his cock lightly, increasing the torturous pressure. Her lips trail up his jaw before resting against his ear.

“Teach me.” She whispers. Christ. His eyes snap open, dazed he looks at her for a moment. She trusts him, she feels comfortable and safe with him. The realization sends blood rushing to his cock, he reconnects their mouth in a tender yet sloppy and uncontrolled kiss. His hand leaves her thigh to blindly search for the condom, as he frenzily grinds into her crotch. He barely manages to put the condom on correctly as he looks at her flushed body crying for more. She murmurs incoherrent pleas of please, Shawn, oh god Shawn please. He positions himself at her entrance. Her breath hitches, he stops breathing. Slowly, gently, lovingly he presses into her. Her free hand grips at the sheets as he finally finally bottoms out. She heaves out a strained breath.

“Am I hurting you?” he whispers, his breathing ragged from the effort it requires him to stay still as she gets used to the feel of having him inside her. She shakes her head, looks up at him and utters a barely audible “It feels weird.” She clenches and unclenches her muscles familiarising herself with the feeling of fullness. Shawn barely manages to stop the involuntary thrust his hip gives. He lets his head fall into the crook of her neck. Too much.

“Y/N you will be the death of me.” He says in a pained tone. He waits patiently, anxiously for her to adjust to his size. He kisses her neck, mouthing at the sensitive skin, desperately trying to distract himself from the delicious torture of her fluttering walls, stretched around his pulsing cock.

“Shawn… please move.” She begs him quietly. He pulls out a few inches before slowly pressing back into her welcoming body. Her leg wraps itself around his middle, the heel of her dainty foot pressing into his tailbone urging him to do more… He barely pulls out now, just grinds into her body, his pubic bone rubbing against her clit in slow torturing motions. Her softly moaned Shawn penetrates his body, settling like a warm blanket over his heart. Her hips try to rise, seeking more friction, his hand grabs her waist and pins it to the mattress. His. He grinds into her more forcefully, her walls clench down, holding his shaft in an iron grip. A gasped oh leaves her bruised lips. Her back arches, pressing her breasts against his hard chest. Her free hand flies to his shoulder, nails digging into his skin. His own broken moan leaves his mouth, mingling itself with the wet sound of his cock pressing deep into her. He whispers her name over and over again as he grinds into her. He feels her walls clenching violently as he presses his forehead against hers.

“You’re close.” He breathes.

So am I.

So am I.

So am I.

He thrusts into her. She shatters. Her unrestrained moans ring in his ears as he presses into her. Her head twist to the side, her eyes squeezing shut. He lets go of her hip to grasp her chin making her look at him again. Guiding her through her orgasm, he feels the tight pressure in his abdomen become almost unbearable.  As she clamps down on his cock riding out the final wave of her orgasm, he comes. Her name a sinful prayer on his lips, he spasms in her body.

Her hand releases his shoulder, five crescent moons imprinted into his flesh. He gently pulls out of her, untangles her leg from around his waist and slips out of the bed to get rid of the condom. He quickly crawls back in, instinctively reaching for her and pulling her closer to him. She cuddles into his chest as he draws shapes onto the skin of her back. Her small palm rests against his chest, he breathes in her smell and presses a kiss to her head.

His.

2

mythology meme | Slavic legendary creatures - Sirin

Sirin or the Bird of Sorrow is a magnificent but cruel bird-maiden of Russian legends. Her body of a giant bird of prey is covered in thousand midnight-coloured feathers and a set of sharp claws, big enough to crush a horse. From the chest up, she’s of human appearance and her sinister face of a beautiful woman is adorned by a golden crown or nimbus. Sirin lays her precious eggs on distant seashores before casting them into the waves. When the eggs hatch, a thunderstorm sets over the oceans till they become so rough that no soul can travel across.

She is a death-bringer. Her honey-tongued singing voice stupefies mortals, making them forget everything they had ever known in this world and announces their imminent death. People would attempt to save themselves from Sirin by shooting cannons, ringing bells and covering their ears but to no avail. Her terrifying smirk is the last thing they see before she plunges down at them with her claws and carries them away to the realm of death called Nav where she forever resides with her brighter counterpart Alkonost, her beloved sister otherwise known as the Bird of Joy.

Struck By Lightening

Originally posted by al345mor

Tittle: Struck By Lightening

Pairing: Next x Reader

Requested: Yes

Fandom: Maze Runner

Rating: PG

Warning: Course Language




       Newt woke up to the sounds of Tommy screaming, urging them to all wake up because someone was coming. Startled but suddenly awake, he jumped to his feet, looking for her, for the reason he was able to face all of this. He found her almost instantly. She was still half asleep, moving slowly into a sitting position, her eyes wide as she glanced around her, trying to figure everything out.

    “We have to move baby girl, someone is coming. We have to move now.” He called, his voice seeming to cause the girl to wake fully. She gave a startled yelp, bending down and picking the ruck sake she had been using for a pillow up and throwing it over her shoulder and running after the others. Newt ran after her, joining her at her side instantly, his hand wrapping tightly around hers and pulling her forward.

    “What if we can’t out run them?” She cried, her voice barely reaching the others over the pounding of their foot steps on the long since dried out ground and the sounds of their cries to on another, urging the others on. Only Newt had heard her, and her sent her a dirty look, communicating without words that they would be okay. She had opened her mouth to respond when it happened.

   She felt like she had been shocked only a thousand times worse. It went from her head to the tip of her toes, her cry dying on her lips. She could feel her heart stop, her hand slip from Newt’s, then it went black and suddenly everything around her stopped.



    Newt let out a cry, his voice startling the others into stopping their tracks. Minho saw her and at once broke from the others to run towards her. “We have to get her up.” He called, grabbing a hold of her feet while Newt grabbed her under the arms. “Once we get her inside we can figure everything else out.”

   Newt nodded, looking forward and running after Minho, praying to whatever Gods where left that there might be a chance to save her. To him the girl in his arms was everything, his whole world. In the Maze, after his failed attempt, she was his rock, the thing that kept him sane. When they escaped she became the only good thing left in the world. She beauty in the midst of hell, a light acting as a beckon in the never ending darkness. He doubted that he could make it without her, that he would want to.

   He was pushed aside, dropping to his knees in front of Frypan as Tommy dropped down beside her and tried hard to get her back. He paused for only a moment before slamming his hands against her chest, leaning back as she began to cough. At once Newt let out a cry, dropping beside her and pulling her up against his chest.

    “Don’t ever do that again.” He swore, cutting off any protest she might have had by smashing his lips against hers, silencing her with a kiss so full of passion that everyone else looked away, unable to stand the sight of the two. It was because of this that they noticed they were not alone in the room, but surrounded by the same things that attacked them after they had left. Before they could really gather anything a door opened and a young women came out, walking between rows of the creatures and stopping when she saw them.

  “You coming in or….”

Hidden (Part 2)

I make my bed as Nurse Kim strolls in. She has a look of uncertainty plastered on her face. “Is everything alright?” I ask her. Closing the door behind her, she looks out the little glass window before she makes way to me.

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Handle With Care

What happens when you’re getting frustrated over your Byron and Shelley essay - *Cole Sprouse voice* angsty Bughead


They’d been careful about everything. 

He’d been careful about the way he cupped her face when he first kissed her, brushing his thumbs over her petal-soft cheeks, contrasting deliciously with the way he poured all the longing, all his time spent dreaming, for this moment against her lips. 

He’d been careful about the way he reached for her hand when he walked her home, that rainy night after looking for Polly in the woods. He’d jerked his hand back twice before leaving his hanging between them, heart rising into his throat when it was Betty that laced her fingers through his without a word, not even interrupting their conversation like it was the most natural thing in the world. And then she’d kissed him and he swore he could have died happy, right then. The warmth of her hands on his face made him feel safer than he’d felt in a long time now, like he was being protected rather than left to endure the cold world all by himself. His heart was glass, cracked and fragile, and he felt as if he’d thrown it at her, sure that she’d catch it, cradle it. 

He’d been careful when Veronica called him Betty’s boyfriend for the first time. His heart stopped and then resumed in double time as the words hung there in the air - Betty’s boyfriend. They hadn’t defined what they were yet and as much as Jughead was ok with that, ok to wait for as long as they both needed, he couldn’t help but love the tingling that spread into the tips of his fingers at the title. He turned to her with a carefully blank face, blinded by the smile she’d offered him in return. This was it for him.

He’d been careful when he paced up and down in front of her, standing at the end of her bed while she sat on the duvet, chest heaving, shirt askew and hair a mess. He couldn’t get enough of her. Every kiss, every touch, was something new that he didn’t know he’d been missing until now. But now he had it he couldn’t imagine a life without it. But here he was, a knot tight in his stomach and appearance as equally dishevelled as he tried to find the words to talk about how he felt. He tried to explain his feelings in a way that didn’t make it seem like it was anything to do with Betty - it wasn’t her, he desired her more than he knew what to do with. That was kind of the problem, because he’d never had that before. He told her about his lack of interest in any other girl before her, how she’d knocked the air right out of him and now everything he thought he knew about himself was being called into question. He knew, though, that he wanted her. He just wasn’t sure in what way, how much. He wasn’t sure he was ready to do that just yet. He couldn’t meet her eyes as he babbled, scared to see any pain in them that he might have put there. He stumbled when she was suddenly in front of him, stopping him in his tracks and resting her hands on his where they were held in front of his body as he played nervously with his fingers. 

“It’s ok, Jughead. We’ll take it slow. I… I love you,” she’d whispered, so quietly he wasn’t sure he’d really heard the words. 

“Say it again,” he choked out, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. 

“I love you, Jughead,” she’d said more forcefully. 

“I love you, Betty,” he’d replied without hesitation. 

He wasn’t careful when he told her they shouldn’t be together anymore. 

He’d seen her, laughing and joking with Archie at lunch, throwing her head back in carefree abandon at something his redheaded best friend had said. She looked radiant, weightless. Was she like that with him? He didn’t know. It was possible he was weighing her down, and he didn’t need another guilt on his conscience. She was holding his heart still and if she realised, if she dropped it, he didn’t think he’d come back from that. But he couldn’t give her what she needed, he was broken.

“Why are you doing this, Juggie?” she’d pleaded, a river flowing down her cheeks. He couldn’t breathe, everything he’d feared doing was coming true as he watched her wrap her arms around herself and shrink before him. 

“It’s just for the best,” he’d replied, turning away and not looking back, even when her echoing sobs reached his ears. 

It took him a while to realise. She hadn’t dropped his heart. He’d ripped it from her grasp and thrown it, shattering it into a million shards - and he’d taken hers with it. He saw in the way her skin was drained of the usual rosy glow. How she had dark circles under her eyes, stray hair flying out of her ponytail. In trying to save them both he’d done the unthinkable. 

“Please, Betty, please I’m so sorry.” He was on his knees on her bedroom floor, hands grasping at her thighs where she sat in front of him on the bed, trying not to meet the storm in his blue eyes. “I-I didn’t want to ruin you, like I ruin everything else. I thought I could save you, that you could get more from being with someone like Archie, I-”

“And who gave you the right to decide what I should have, Jughead? What I want. That’s something that’s all for me, that no one else can ever do.” She was fire in that moment, her eyes blazing behind unshed tears. 

“I’ll do anything - anything - Betts. To show you how much I need you, how much you mean to me. If it takes forever, I’ll do it. Please, please, please…” He couldn’t stop the hope from bubbling up at the feeling of her fingers underneath his chin, bringing up his crestfallen face. 

“Shh, Jug, shh,” she cooed, stroking a hand through his hair to try and calm him. He hadn’t even realised until that moment that he’d been hyperventilating. “I’ve got you, Jug, it’s ok. I’m here,” she soothed, rocking him gently backwards and forwards. 

It was her turn to be careful as she lifted him gently from the floor, lifting the covers and tucking him in beside her, pulling him to her chest and whispering comforting nothings to him until his breathing evened out and she was sure he was asleep. She’d make him see that she needed him as much as he needed her, he could count on it. 

They were careful their first time. The bridge had been mended between them long ago but the walls had come crumbling down. He memorised every inch of her body beneath his, the way she moved under his touch, the way her lips dropped open in pleasure - because of him. She held him in return, reassuring and steady the whole time. He didn’t know love felt like this.

She didn’t say anything as she wiped away the stray tears from his cheeks afterwards, where he couldn’t contain the exploding emotions inside any longer. She kissed each closed eyelid as their breathing slowed, settling into a unique harmony that could never be replicated. 

Yes, he was broken and so was she. But together they made a whole.

The Team: Essay Writing
  • Kaldur: Meticulously researches the topic, makes an outline, writes several drafts, asks Black Canary to proofread, turns it in two days before the deadline. His papers end up being the examples for next year's class
  • Artemis: All of her counter-arguments boil down to "fight me", goes out of her way to pick a controversial, rad-fem stance on topics like "What I did this summer"
  • Wally: Writes it all in 2 hours before the deadline, downs 500 espresso shots, hits "submit" and falls asleep on his keyboard immediately
  • Conner: Very short sentences. Clear ideas. Good explanations. States everything as a fact. Wouldn't know the passive voice if it hit him in the face
  • Dick: Uses arcane words just to see if the teacher will call him on it. See: "the novel's plot is druxy, and I oppugn anyone who asserts that its subtexts...", etc. When you put together the beginning letters of each paragraph they spell out "feel my aster" or "u mad bro". Uses comic sans unless told otherwise
  • M'gann: Gets super-excited about every topic, does waaaay too much research. Is always about 3 pages over the page limit, goes off on tangents about cool facts she picked up on. Once included a paragraph about cool dog breeds in an essay on the causes of the American Civil War
I HAVE THIS BOOM!SONAMY COMIC IDEA

so Amy is doing something with papers and Sonic is just hanging out at her place and he gets bored while Amy is doing her stuff and he gets up and gets to Amy’s makeup while she’s not looking and then he puts her mascara on his eyelashes and Amy asks him -while still looking at the papers- to pass the paper that’s near him

‘Sonic can you pass me that paper?’
And he just goes up to her with a girly voice and copies everything she says while doing the 'FAAABULOUS’ thingy with his arms.

'Is that my mascara???!?!?!’
-'ahehe is that my mascara?!?!!’

'ARE YOU COPYING ME?!’
-'ahee are you copying me?!’

Amy was angry but then came up with an idea while making an evil girl on her face and said

’…. I love you, Amy’
and Sonic blushes and hands her the paper while hiding his face with his scarf/neckerchief/bandana/whatever thingy
-'here you go’

I SHOULD WRITE A NOVEL :DDDDDD

moment of silence for the missed opportunities in once more with feeling without cordelia, oz and faith

  • faith expecting herself to have some hardcore rock ballad if anything but it ends up being a slow, sad ballad about craving acceptance and validation and the whole time she’s trying to shut herself up through various techniques like holding her hands over her face and sticking her face underwater but she won’t stop fucking sINGING
  • cordelia is getting SO impatient waiting for her bursting-into-song moment that she just starts singing everything without needing to. when she Finally gets her moment and the music starts swelling for her, she coughs, and realizes she’s lost her voice. fu ck.
  • oz. my man oz. it doesn’t affect him but no one else seems to notice?? and every time there’s a group number when the camera focuses on him it just goes Dead Silent. no singing. every scene, every song– he just looks into the camera like he’s on the office.