i actually took an hour out of my time to work on this

After I complained on here about my difficulty in getting ADHD meds, a friend referred me to her psychiatrist and other friends helped me actually get an appointment set up and I went to it and I got prescribed ADHD meds. A couple different kinds, so I can document how they affect me and figure out with the psychiatrist which ones work best.

I took them for the first time last Thursday. They’re supposed to last a fairly short time, four to six hours; I took one before I went to work and had a fine day at work, productive but not outrageously so, nothing to particularly write home about, and I had mostly forgotten that I was on ADHD meds by the time I got home.

There was a choir staging rehearsal, so I was watching the baby for the evening, and the dishwasher was broken so there was like a week of dishes in the sink, and I really wanted pasta with homemade tomato sauce so I started that on the stove and put the baby in his high chair with a spatula to chew on and sang him songs while I washed the dishes -

- and about halfway through this I realized that all of this was so profoundly out of character that my roommates, if they’d been home, might have suspected bodysnatching aliens.

I am too tired when I get home from work to cook dinner. Sometimes someone else cooks a thing I can eat, and sometimes I just drink an Ensure and go to bed. I hate doing dishes when the sink is full; I kind of hate doing dishes even when the sink is not full, and I’d done the dishes exactly once in the previous six months. I am not usually too tired to play with the baby, but only if he wants to come headbutt my pillows while I lie in bed.

Well, I thought, I guess ADHD meds actually do something! And I finished the dishes and finished the dinner and fed us both and did my laundry and cleaned my room and started putting the baby’s books on the bookshelves, which he objected to (he firmly believes that his books should be evenly dispersed through the house, so if he wants one it is always nearby), so I gave up and worked on a writing project I’m in the middle of.

If you knew two people, one of whom came home from work and cooked and cleaned and did childcare and then wrote fiction, and the other one who came home from work and crawled into bed and browsed Tumblr all evening, you would probably attribute other, underlying differences to them. The first one is motivated and driven; the second one is immature and not used to having to keep her own space clean and do her own chores. The first one is trustworthy and conscientious and gets things done; the second one, maybe not. The first one has more willpower; the first one works harder. 

It’s none of that. It’s brain chemistry.

I’m not saying that you can never accomplish anything through concerted effort - obviously you can, and effort matters a lot. I’m not saying that there’s no point in trying to expand the number of things you can do without changing your underlying brain chemistry; there is, and I do a lot of that, and it often works really well.

But I am saying that we attribute far, far too much of peoples’ behavior to virtue, to hardworkingness, to willpower, to passion, to values, when the actual underlying thing is none of those. And because of that, people hate themselves for being lazy, for being slow, for not trying hard enough. I wasn’t trying harder on drugs. I wasn’t trying at all. Cooking dinner on a normal night really is about willpower and effort and careful planning around my limitations and advance strategic decision making and triage. Cooking dinner on stimulants is just - the thing that happens when I walk into the kitchen and want to eat something. 

Drugs don’t work for everybody. (Honestly, they don’t totally work for me; I don’t like taking them two days in a row, and I wouldn’t want to take them if I had to get a specific thing done instead of Doing Things in general.) I think people who have a drug sometimes work for them are really lucky, in a lot of ways, because it’s hard to really believe that it’s not your priorities or personality, it’s your executive function, until you can observe how you behave with the same priorities and the same personality and vastly boosted executive function. But I also think this is true of people who never have a drug work for them. 

People vary, a lot, and one axis along which they vary is executive function, and it’s really hard to imagine what it’s like to be someone with way more executive function or way less executive function than you. At least for me, it doesn’t feel like trying harder or caring more. It feels like not needing to.

All I Want For Christmas

In which it’s Christmas time, and Harry can’t help falling for the girl who helps him shop for gifts. 

A/N: THE CHRISTMAS ONESHOT IS HERE! I’m sorry I didn’t get this out yesterday like I originally planned, but I figured better late than never right?!  Enjoy, my loves, and Merry Christmas!!! xx

Please do NOT repost without permission!!!! 

Keep reading

The Princess & The Snake || S.P.


a/n: This was not requested, but I have been thinking a lot about Sweet Pea and how he needs a LOT more recognition. So, I wrote this. I absolutely adore him and I really hope you guys like this possible fic!?!?! I am really excited about this so, here is “The Princess & The Snake.”

P.O.V: first person

summary: Y/N grew up alongside Archie, Jughead, Betty, Cheryl, and Josie. Her mother was a hotshot realtor on the Northside of Riverdale and she was one of the girls lucky enough to call themselves a River Vixen. When a bunch of Serpents show up across the street to start trouble with Archie, she meets the one person who could flip her whole world upside down.

warnings: Cussing, violence

word count: 2,497 :)

(gif not mine)

KEY: Y/M/N= your middle name; y/h/c= your hair color; Y/L/N= your last name.

Part Two  Part Three


❝A bad boy can be very good for a girl❞  

- Melissa de la Cruz

Originally posted by my-sweet-pea

Keep reading


Originally posted by kylemclachlan

(joe keery x reader) 

request: babes! can I have a joe keery one where y/n works on the set of stranger things and to him she’s like the coolest ever and the both have the same style and he falls pretty hard, and when season two comes around there’s a tearful reunion and confessions of love xxxx (also can y/n be british?)

summary: turns out joe doesn’t really cope well with his emotions and cries when he’s tired.

word count: 2,393

a/n: okay, so this is going out tonight (sunday), and i won’t be on much at all tomorrow BECAUSE MY AUNT IS HAVING A BABY, so i’m going to queue up a fic that somebody submitted to me, and that’ll go out tomorrow. that is all. there are no warnings in this fic. it’s just nice and fluffy and joe cries a lil. 

It had all started with the slapping.

Well, really, it had started when you’d been hired as a production assistant for some Netflix show. The premise had seemed interesting enough - you’d grown up being into sci-fi stuff - but what had really intrigued you was the fact that it was a paying job. You’d been trying your hardest to get a job in film, on top of trying to get someone to hire you while also providing you a work visa.

Eventually, your uncle had known this dude who’d known a woman who babysat for this person’s cousin who knew someone that worked at Netflix. Which meant that a couple of months later, you were working on the set of an actual tv show.

But the actual fun? That had started with the slapping.

It was day three of shooting, when you’d noticed it. Being a PA meant that you were relatively low on the list of important people, and that you were there to do what you were told and to keep your mouth shut. But you’d started to pick up on the fact that two of the actors, Gaten and Finn, had red cheeks. Not just red cheeks where they were a little excited for the scene at hand, but like… like they’d been hit. You had younger brothers. You knew how stupid kids could be. They’d already shot the scene twice, and a difference like that would be noticeable.

So you took a chance. You approached one of the Duffer brothers - you prayed you’d get the name right - and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Uh, Matt? Gaten and Finn’s cheeks look a little off. It might show up on camera.” You and Matt looked to the boys in question, watching as Finn reared his hand back and slapped Gaten across the cheek.

“What the fuck… Hey, you two! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Matt started towards them, scowling as you hesitated for a second before following behind him. “Are you kidding me? You can’t slap each other before a take. It’s going to ruin continuity.”

“We can’t help it! We’re excited!” Gaten piped up, grinning.

“Well, are you guys going to stop?” Finn and Gaten both looked towards each other before turning back to Matt, shaking their heads, grinning like a couple of idiots. “Jesus,” he muttered. He sighed, running a hand over his face as he turned around. His gaze settled on you. “You, you good with kids?”

“Uh, sure?”

“Cool. You’re being promoted to child wrangler.”

“Isn’t there already a wrangler?”

“Well, yeah, but… You’ll be the actual wrangler. They’re worried about the kids’ safety. You’ll be making sure they don’t do anything stupid.”

Don’t do anything stupid became the mantra for the entirety of filming.

There would be days where it felt like the only things that you said were:

“Finn, knock it off.”

“Gaten, I understood the joke. It wasn’t funny.”

“Caleb, please stop talking.”

“Finn, knock it off.”

“Noah’s my favorite.”

“Finn, knock it off!

There were more better days than worse days, though. Millie easily listened to you the best, although that was more because you’d both lived in England. But weirdly enough, your favorite person on set ended up being Joe.

Keep reading


So I’m here to go on another mini rant about a YouTuber.

BrisxLife on YouTube. He is a reactor who came into the Kpop world reacting to BTS. And there are a lot of people on YouTube who first get into Kpop reacting to BTS/EXO/GOT7. A lot of them start out with those 3 groups and then kind of branch out to others and get to know them. And to be honest, I like watching people get to know members and music and I like to see genuine reactions. I have zero issues with new fans. Late to the party? So what! At least you’re here now. However, when someone is a shitty person, I’m not about it.

#1: This man just started reacting to kpop 3 months ago. And I am NOT hating on the fact that he is a new fan, but his ego is ENORMOUS. He watched a video of a guy calling him out on YouTube, and he said “I have been reacting to videos for 3 months and I have done more for the kpop community than you ever have.” First off, you don’t even fucking know this guy. He could’ve done loads for the kpop community (he hasn’t, but it’s the point.) Second, what the hell have you done for the kpop community? You react to videos and took people’s money to go to the AMAs. “I am a black man reacting to kpop. That’s unique.” No? It…isn’t? That’s the amazing thing about the kpop community. There is so much diversity and all different races and people from all different places. You are NOT the only black guy who likes kpop or reacts to it. “I have the littest vlog at the AMAs watching BTS. Go search it up right now.” Dude, I’ve seen better camera work done by my 5 year old nephew. “BTS official twitter put me in their article.” Okay? Now you’re just bragging about shit. “I was on the news in South Korea. Like? Come on.” Dude, calm down. Your fucking ego is the size of Australia.

#2: When he watched this video calling him out, he said “You need to deactivate your comments on this video. Because if you don’t, you’re going to be very sad tonight. Because Bris Gang (literally the name he gave his ‘fans’. Literally gave himself his own fandom name), we’re going to go over there and we’re going to flood the comments.” Seriously telling people to go send hate to someone and ENCOURAGING it. When he says on his channel “I just want to make people happy. I want to make people smile.”

#3: He made a GoFundMe and gave his PayPal link asking Armies to send him money so he could go and see BTS perform at the AMAs. He said in his video that he promised he would have the littest vlog at the AMAs if they did this for him and that he might even get to meet them. Lmao. In the end, they gave him over a grand. And this guy lives in compton. Which is like at most an hour drive to LA. He didn’t need that much. He just needed money for a ticket basically. So he went out, bought himself a new suit, and went to see BTS. To be honest, it rubs me the wrong way that he, a grown man with a job, asked his viewers which are 85% young teenagers….for money to go see BTS. It really made me go…what the fuck.

#4: He captioned a CL reaction “I wish CL was in BTS. She should be in BTS.” ……

And captions his Hyuna reactions “Leaving my girl for Hyuna tonight!!” Or “I left my girl for Hyuna!”

Note to his girlfriend: Please fucking drop him. Please.

#5: There is a video circulating right now of Korean people reacting to BTS’ worldwide success. To which one girl said in the interview “EXO is more popular. I like EXO more.” Which is bound to happen sometimes? Some people prefer different groups? Like…that’s a thing. BTS isn’t the only group that exists. And EXO are a bit more popular in Asia than BTS. That is actually true. And he reacted to this video and when that girl said that he paused it and went “Hold on.” And then acted like he was zipping his mouth shut, locking it and throwing away the key. And then went on to say “I mean…BTS is…you know…they’re BTS.” With a look on his face like 'Come on, you know what I mean.’ I mean…yeah they are BTS. That’s correct. And EXO is EXO. And they are also incredibly talented. And deserve fans and love as well. This is why some fanwars start. We don’t need this.

#6: He was watching a series on YouTube called An Introduction To BTS. And each member has a 20+ minute video that this person took their time to make basically telling you important things about each member. When he was watching Jin’s version, there was a part in the video where it talked about how during their debut stage, his pants fell down due to the mic pack being too heavy on them and when the stage was over, he cried. And he looked at the screen with this like 'what the fuck’ face and said “Why are you crying man? Cut that shit out.” Or something like that in a really weird way. Like saying men shouldn’t cry or it was a stupid thing to cry over. Okay first off, idols train for a long time, some for 5+ years and they expect every detail to be perfect when they debut, and a lot of idols…including Jin, pick at themselves and think that they aren’t good enough or talented enough and they try so hard. Imagine training for years for this one moment and perfecting it, only for the moment to come…and your pants fall down. That is definitely a reason to cry. He was upset and disappointed. Leave him alone.

#7: As everyone knows, the kpop world lost a beautiful, incredible talent 2 weeks ago. Kim Jonghyun of SHINee. I miss him so much. May he always rest in peace. And BrisxLife took advantage of this tragedy, and made reaction videos to either just Jonghyun or SHINee all together with #RIPJonghyun in the title of all of them and put them into parts. He even made a reaction to a tribute video. Who makes a reaction to a tribute video? So just that in general…rubbed me the wrong way. But wait, there’s more. He MONETIZED three of these videos. T H R E E. For those of you who don’t know, that is when you turn something on on your videos on YouTube to make MONEY off of them. It is automatically off when you upload and you choose to turn it on. So he was making money off of a tragedy. Off of someone’s pain. Someone’s depression. Someone’s suicide. And if that isn’t one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever heard…I have no idea what is.

Anyway in conclusion: BrisxLife rubs me the wrong way and makes me uncomfortable. He has done nothing for the kpop community? Lmao. He has made a bad name for kpop reactors. And he has made money off of tragedy. And I can only speak for myself but…as an ARMY…I don’t fucking claim this guy. And that concludes another one of my rants about a YouTuber.

Side with my bullies and threaten me? I made sure you lose your job.

Okay, so this is going to be a bit of a long one. I’ve been sitting on this story for years and only recently discovered this sub to finally tell it. This happened when I was in 8th grade and I still feel a sense of pride remembering this incident.

tl;dr: My school’s interim principal sided with a clique of girls who had been bullying me after I tried to stand up for myself, so I ensured that she stayed at the school for a much shorter time than she had planned.

I went to a small, private school that was part of a network of international schools around the US. This network had its own Board of Education that managed many things across the schools, including the firing and hiring of principals. Our school principal had decided to leave for another school in the middle of 8th grade and the Board Director for our state decided to take over as the interim principal until a full time one could properly be found, although she was expected to stay as long as a school year or two. Many students hated her, as she immediately began lording her position on the board over the other teachers and was incredibly condescending to all the students, even the high school students, and treating us all like we were little kids. She shall be called M for this story.

So I had always had a problem being bullied by a clique of girls in our year ever since we were in 6th grade. They whispered insults to me in class, spread rumors about me, tripped me in the hall, tried to turn the rest of our clas against me, and then made fun of me even more for having very few friends. I have Asperger’s, which had been undiagnosed at the time, and they took advantage of my more literal thinking to trick me into believing stupid things to get me hurt, and called me a freak for my particular interests and how into them I got. I became incredibly depressed.

Towards the end of 8th grade, I decided I’d had enough of these girls and, since I was switching to another, more elite school for high school, I felt like, even though I was going to be better off than them, it would be proper for me to stand up to these girls once and for all. I didn’t have the confidence to go up to them on my own, so I went to a few other girls who I knew this clique had been bullying too to ask if we could all go stand up to them together. So we planned out exactly what we were going to say and went to them during lunch to tell them to leave us alone or we’d all go to M directly to deal with them.

Not an hour later, I’m called out of my science class to go down to M’s office. She had called all of us girls down. Apparently, the bullies had decided to go to M themselves and spin some sob story about how WE were bullying THEM and that they had tried to stand up to us but them we ‘surrounded’ them and 'threatened’ them to keep quiet. M had clearly taken their story in hook, line, and sinker and began berating us for bullying 'those poor girls’ and telling us that we should be ashamed of ourselves and that we weren’t allowed anywhere near them or we’d have our parents called. M even said she was friends with the mother of one of the bullies and that ’[Girl] had been teased at her old school and didn’t deserve such treatment here.’

She directly asked me what had happened during lunch and clearly didn’t like the truth that I was telling, because she immediately brushed it off and continued yelling at us, adding that if any of us tried to interrupt her (read: explain what really happened), she would have us expelled. I stayed quiet because I didn’t actually want to be expelled and jeopardize my chance of getting into my new school, but I was now fuming with anger. This anger became fury when I noticed that two of the girls in the clique (who had been allowed to sit in on this humiliating telling-off) were smirking at us from behind M’s back.

Once M let us finally leave (and after I took some time to cry in the bathroom), I went down to the front office to be excused from class for the rest of the day, claiming to be unwell. My mom was called to pick me up and, as soon as I got into the car, I told her everything that had happened. I have a somewhat eidetic memory, so I was able to tell her how the meeting in M’s office went nearly word for word, emphasizing the fact that she had threatened us with expulsion for speaking up. My mom was furious and called M personally to give her a piece of her mind. I told my mom the names of all the other girls who had been humiliated along with me and my mom then called their parents to tell them what had happened. Many of them called M as well to complain about the injustice done.

The next day, I went back to school and retold the story to any of my classmates who asked where I had been. This not only turned many of them against the bullies who had orchestrated the entire thing, but also allowed me to convince them to tell their parents to write letters to the Board to complain about M’s general behavior. The entire time, I stay away from the clique in class and, whenever a teacher noticed and pulled me aside to ask why I was actively avoiding those girls in particular, I told them that they had been bullying me and that M had them protected. I was a very good student and had a good relationship with many of my teachers (who I would sometimes keep company during lunch because I didn’t have any friends to hang out with) so they believed me and made their own complaints. When M tried to confront me about them, I simply told her that I was just letting my teachers know what she had told us so that they couldn’t accidentally make us work together.

The whole thing caused such a mess for M that she was removed by the rest of the Board as the interim principal a month after, and lost her position as the Board Director shortly after that.

I went on to my new high school feeling quite smug about that.

I talked about this with @aoimikans and on a discord channel Friday morning, but my thoughts were a bit everywhere and I was typing on my phone. So, I’m going to write it here now that I feel a bit more ordered. 

Izuku offering Mirio One for All was incredibly self-centered. 

***Before I go on, I will preface this by saying I know he’s a kid, he’s still learning, he still has room to grow, and I care very much about him as a character.*** 

EDIT: Izuku is also usually a selfless person. This does not change that but just shows he has some area of growth needed and needs counselling after a traumatic event.

Straight to the point. Izuku’s offer was selfish disguised as generous. 

At face value, Izuku offering OfA to Mirio who just lost his quirk could seem like a generous sacrifice - but with some uneasy undertones and the shock of Izuku offering to give it away. But it wasn’t generous. It wasn’t even kind.  

Izuku witnessed the death of Nighteye (a traumatic event, yes), and he felt guilty that 1) Mirio is quirkless now, 2) Nighteye’s wish for Mirio to be All Might’s successor was not fulfilled, and 3) he saw Eri’s accidental uncontrollable use of her quirk and Aizawa helping him as negatives. 

So instead of processing his guilt, his mourning, his trauma, he runs from it and takes the first out he sees: Offering to give Mirio his quirk. 

Now, he in no way meant to be hurtful, but that was a hurtful thing to do. On top of that, he did not give that an ounce of thought. 

We see him recall the moments when All Might told him he was quirkless too and believed Izuku could do something great with OfA and when he promised to twist fate. 

(Hell, Nighteye’s last words to him were to say he could change fate.)

Those were huge moments. Those were promises. Those were leaps and bounds of development! 

So what the hell happened? 

Izuku’s fatal flaw happened. This kid will move heaven and earth to help a friend. This kid genuinely wants to be a hero to help people and has the drive to do so. 

But as soon as he faces a setback that makes him doubt himself, doubt his “worthiness” of being All Might’s successor, he offers to give up. He has no strong confidence or faith in himself.   

We saw it after the Sports Festival before Toshinori told him he was quirkless too. We saw a bit of it before Toshinori told him he gave him the will to live again. (I fully expect a sit down conversation between them again in which they actually communicate because poor communication in stories to create unnecessary drama is such a pet peev of mine.) 

So what triggers these downward spirals? 

At the SF, it was losing to Todoroki despite helping him and freaking changing his life. Then it was the shock that there was a more experienced person being considered for One for All before him, and the doubt that followed him realizing All Might was keeping that information from him. 

This time?

He blames himself for Nighteye’s death. 

Let me pause here and clear something up. When I say self-centered and selfish, I mean it in two ways: 1) He is an immature kid still and in a way thinks the world revolves around himself in that the world is depending on him to save it. He is trying to take it all on his shoulders.* 2) He is incredibly analytical and this is the flaw of it. When he turns this critical eye inward, self-focusing, he only sees his flaws and perceived failures. That is an incredibly hard thing to deal with. (I know, I’m a perfectionist with severe anxiety, I know how harsh that inner eye is.) It can be paralyzing in the long run. 

With that in mind, let’s continue. 

Izuku feels guilt. Izuku is looking inward in this moment and only seeing his perceived failures, not his successes, not his growth. Izuku is too immature to properly deal with this sort of trauma without help. Izuku runs for an out by offering to give Mirio the quirk - to let the cup pass from him because he can’t deal in that moment. 

“Take this quirk because I am overwhelmed by my feelings of guilt. I want to throw this responsibility at someone apparently more worthy because they wouldn’t make the same mistakes as me, right? I want this grief, this guilt, this regret to go away and the first thing I can think of to get rid of it is to give away this quirk.”

Thank God Mirio is more mature and so incredibly kind.

He sees that Izuku hasn’t thought this through. He points out that Izuku would be suffering in his place in that case. He doesn’t feed Izuku’s developing martyr complex.** For that, he deserves all the awards. Despite losing the mentor that he had grown so close to, despite losing his quirk, he still looks out for Izuku in a way that is not self centered. That is one of the differences maturity and experience make. 

But, like I said. Izuku’s actions were hurtful. Izuku put Mirio in a situation where he was forced to comfort Izuku despite what he’s just suffered. Izuku didn’t see this because he was too wrapped up in his self deprecation he didn’t think about the outcome. Speaking of which…

Izuku didn’t think things through. 

  • If he gives up OfA now, he can’t become a hero.

I personally believe that Mirio could still be a hero. He’s had the opportunity to be trained and proved he can fight without his quirk. We’ve seen a number of non-combat based quirk heroes, and we’ve seen that heroes have some pretty amazing tech. 

Mirio could still manage it with the experience he has and some tech. 

Izuku can’t. 

He could probably fight a bit and outwit, but as he is now, he needs OfA to be a hero. And if he couldn’t be a hero? Then what? Then what? Hand in his provisional license? Drop out of school? Go back to before? Everything he’s worked for would be for nothing. If he took the time to slow down and actually think, he would see that. He’s a smart kid when he thinks before acting.  

  • What about All Might’s choice?

Yes, Nighteye just died. Yes, he wanted Mirio to inherit OfA. But that was never Nighteye’s decision to make. Not his quirk, not his decision. I’m honestly still salty about this. He raised Mirio to be All Might 2.0 - all the power and charisma of All Might with the added benefit of not being touched (read: stabbed through the gut). Mirio was raised to be All Might’s mirror. Looks a bit like him, similar mannerisms and charisma, his body was already trained, … and they both lost their quirk defending a girl in harms way. And they both lost their mentor. 

The world never needed another All Might, but Nighteye didn’t see that.  

Nighteye didn’t respect All Might’s decision to return to hero work, he didn’t respect All Might’s choice of successor. And in both cases he lashed out and said something incredibly hurtful. That All Might was fated to die. That Mirio should have inherited OfA. (I’m still salty as the Dead Sea. (ง'̀-‘́)ง I will fight someone.) 

Izuku - in his downward spiral - remembers his promise to All Might but offers the quirk anyway. He doesn’t believe in himself and by extension doesn’t believe in All Might’s choice to train him for 10 months and give him his quirk and his time and his devotion.*** 

Does… Does no one actually care what All Might thinks? (He has flaws and contributed to all this in a way but I’ll get to that in a second.) That his legacy is his to pass on? That he entrusted not only his own quirk but his predecessors’ quirk? That he’s a pretty damn good judge of character and to him Izuku has proved himself time and time and time again? Do his opinions, his thoughts mean nothing?

  • What about all the help and support he’s been given?

Izuku has made amazing friends and is an inspiration and driving force for his class. He saved Todoroki from his self-hatred, he saved Iida’s life, he inspires his class along with Bakugou, he is a driving force for Bakugou as well. He doesn’t hesitate to help others. But… 

But… He thinks poorly of himself when he needs help. He is overly critical of himself when he reaches his natural limit. He is overly critical when he is given help. He’s gone beyond humble and into self deprecation and blaming himself for things he cannot control. It’s part of his fatal flaw. Perhaps borne from Aizawa’s necessary scolding at the beginning and Recovery Girl’s decision to not help extreme, self inflicted injuries. He brought those on himself, and they were necessary lessons and reminders that he has limits. But he takes them to the n-th degree when he criticizes himself. 

The hypocrisy or paradox of this is he thinks no less of those he has helped, but does not apply that to himself. It is another kind of self-centered, critical thought that in his mind separates him from the others. It’s no good. 

If he were to give away OfA, he would be throwing away all the help and support he has been given. You don’t do that, kid… You just don’t. 

Izuku has a difficult fatal flaw, and if he isn’t careful he will end up like All Might.

All Might’s flaw that did him in was his drive for revenge against All for One for killing Nana. He caved to his flaw and was rewarded with the injury in his side and his forced, early retirement. The moment he stopped acting like a hero, he was punished by the narrative gods.

Izuku’s fatal flaw is his self doubt and lack of self confidence. He is overly critical of himself. He focuses on his perceived failures rather than his growth and successes. Despite this, he’s gotten off easy so far. He has been reassured by All Might twice. But had it been Aizawa listening in? What Izuku did there was so severe I believe Aizawa would have expelled him on the spot - or at least threatened to. Wishy-washy resolve doesn’t belong in a future hero. He urgently needs to address this. 

How to address this:

 I think we have another All Might and Izuku heart-to-heart serious talk coming. 

When I saw this image of Toshinori, I thought perhaps he felt frustrated or betrayed by what he heard. He just lost one of his oldest friends. He probably feels helpless since this was the first big raid that he couldn’t assist - and the raid and following police escort resulted in hero fatalities. And then he hears Izuku - the boy that gave him his will to live, the boy he believes in, the boy he has grown close to in a father-son way, the boy that promised to stand by him and help twist fate so he isn’t murdered - offer to give OfA away. He must feel like everything is slipping out of his control, everything he has lived is changing. He looks like he is in turmoil.  

@aoimikans​ had another take on the image. That All Might looked frustrated because he realizes he has neglected Izuku. Neglected to properly cultivate him and care for his mental well-being. And honestly, I am leaning toward this as well because he has shown that he is aware that the kids need to have their mental states cared for too (see: what he says to Aizawa after Izuku and Bakugou’s spat). 

I think this will lead to another good talk during which Toshinori will hopefully address and start to mend Izuku’s fatal flaw. To get him to realize how much he’s grown (like the before and after picture on the beach). To see his successes whether or not they are perfect successes. To get him to realize it is okay to need help (USJ, the summer camp, Kamino). To hug him and tell him that he is proud to have him as his successor.**** That Izuku needs to have more confidence and faith in himself. To help him healthily deal with loss and trauma (okay, maybe not Toshinori’s forte). To support him as he is. 

To take time to fix some of the flaws All Might contributed to: That Izuku doesn’t have to have the world on his shoulders from the get go. That he doesn’t have to take on responsibility for things out of his control. That he doesn’t need to be the next All Might, but needs to be himself - to do what he can as the hero Deku. To start chipping away at that martyr complex and self deprecating inward critical view of himself. So that the next time there is a setback, Izuku doesn’t go through the same damn motions and stunt his growth. 

My frustration

Honestly, the fact that Izuku keeps falling back into this same pattern without learning from it is really frustrating because dang it, he’s such a good kid and tries so hard. He just needs to have an ounce of faith in himself. Screw being “worthy” of One for All. Gran Torino was right, Izuku still sees it as more special than it is and that shackles him. He is a hero because of who he is and has grown into. One for All helped, but it is a tool, not anything sacred. 

tldr: *inhale* BOI

* A flaw in All Might’s teaching that by God needs to be addressed damn it. 

** All Might… talk to your son about this.

*** Mufasa voice:  “You have forgotten who you are, and so forgotten me.”

**** I need quality Dad Might moments like I need water.


Originally posted by harryisart

I’ll admit, I teared up writing this. Thank you all for the support, this is a little bit different from my normal stuff. Let me know if you like it! Possibly a part two? All the love. xx - L

A week goes by of Harry acting different towards Y/N.

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 2,399

Keep reading

Two Gay Weddings

on the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me…

“Nice decorations.”


“I like the, um- what’s that thing you call hanging from the walls again?”

Draco laughed. “Garland, Potter. I must have told you that a million times.”

“Sorry.” Harry chuckled uncomfortably and adjusted his tie. “I guess I’m just nervous. I’ve never been in a wedding party before.”

“You don’t say. I never would have guessed.” Draco glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eye and smirked when he saw Harry’s stricken expression. “You’ll be fine, Potter.”

“No I won’t be. Ginny should’ve never picked me to be her best man.”

“And Luna should’ve never picked me to be hers.” Draco sighed. “Lord knows all I’ll do is take the attention away from her with my amazing good looks.”

Harry snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Well, my turn to walk down the aisle.” Draco left his place beside Harry to take the arm of Luna’s maid of honor, Freya Butler, a magizoologist who Luna worked with.

“Good luck,” Harry said, still looking like a frightened little lamb.

“Thanks. And, Potter, I promise you that you’ll be the best best man Ginny could’ve hoped for,” Draco said before disappearing through the doors leading to the sanctuary.

“Did I walk alright?” Potter asked Draco as soon as the two of them sat down at their table for the reception.

“You glided like an angel, I assure you. It hardly matters anyway since everybody was too busy being awed by my perfectly styled hair to notice the way you walked down the aisle.”

Harry laughed. “Oh, of course. And what about during my speech? Will all eyes be on you during that as well?”
“Obviously not all eyes, Potter. Probably about half.”

Harry quirked a smile and took a sip of champagne. “How come you’re not nervous at all?” he asked Draco.

“Years of practice.” Draco smiled at Harry, but the words came out weary.

“More or less years than it takes to make your hair look like that?” Harry teased, raising his eyes pointedly to Draco’s hair.

Draco laughed. “Actually about the same number of years.”


“Fuck. I don’t think I can do this,” Harry murmured as Hermione was finishing up her speech.

“What do you mean?” Draco asked.

“My speech is next. It’s not as good as Hermione’s. It’s not really good at all. Fuck, I’m going to ruin this wedding.”

Draco put a hand on Harry’s knee. “Don’t say that. You’re not going to ruin anything. You’re going to be great, just like you always are. And if you don’t like your speech, then screw it. Just speak from your heart. Luna and Ginny will love it, no matter what you say.”

People began clapping around them, but the two men just stared into each other’s eyes.

“Okay,” Harry said at last, and he stood up.

The wedding guests went quiet again and looked expectantly at Harry. He took a deep breath.

“I’m glad that’s over,” Harry said to Draco once all the speeches were over. “Do you think I did okay?”

Draco rolled his eyes and smiled. “Everyone was crying by the end of your speech, Potter. So yes, I think you did okay.”

“Oh. I didn’t know if the crying was good or bad.”

Draco smiled for a second more before his expression turned pensive. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, anything.”

“You’re a Gryffindor. You’re like the most Gryffindor-y Gryffindor I’ve ever met, but you were still scared of messing up today. Why?”

Harry frowned. “I’m not immune to nerves, you know.”

“I know, I know, but it just seemed off.” A beat of silence, then Draco added, “Whatever. I guess it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” Harry said. Draco raised his eyebrows. “I was nervous because I kept thinking that this was going to be my first and only time being in a wedding. And I had to do everything perfectly because I won’t ever do it again.”
“What about your own wedding?”

Harry sighed. “I’m Harry Potter. Everyone I meet is going to have expectations for me. They’ll think I’m a savior or a misunderstood lost soul or some shit like that. I don’t want that.”

“Well aren’t we two peas in a pod? I’m the infamous Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater. Everyone I meet expects me to be a brooding and mysterious Dark Arts master, but all I really am is a-”

“Self-absorbed git. Yeah, I know.”

Draco smiled and finished the last of the champagne. “We should probably just marry each other, eh?”

“Nice decorations.”


“What do you call those things on the wall again?”

“Honestly, Potter, this is the last time I’m reminding you. Garland.”


“What is it?”

“No not you, me. I’m Malfoy now too. You keep forgetting.”
Draco blushed, smiled, and looked down at his and Harry’s wedding bands on their fingers.

“Sorry, Mr. Malfoy. I guess it hasn’t sunk in yet.”

“What do you mean it hasn’t sunk in yet? We’ve been married for at least three hours.”

“Hey, I’m not as bad as you are, Mr. ‘What are those things on the wall?’”

“There it is again, you using the wrong last name. What has gotten into you?”
“Nothing has gotten into me, and if you don’t stop bugging me, you’re not getting into me tonight either.”

“If you can’t remember my last name then I’m not sure I want to.”

“I do know your last name. It’s Malfoy. Malfoy. Malfoy. Malfoy. Malfoy. Malfoy. Malfoy. Malfoy,” Draco went on and on until Harry laughed and eventually had to kiss Draco to shut him up.

“You Love Me?”

Title: “You Love Me?”

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Reader

Type: Platonic | Romantic | Familial | Other

Warnings: angst, profanity, mentions of aids, mentions of neglectful parents.

Prompt: F13: “you love me?” “You have no idea.”

Never in your life did you dream you’d fall in love with Richie Tozier.

You’d known him since your diaper days - toddling about together, plump thighs and sticky mouths, with both of your parents watching - your’s attentively, Richie’s listlessly, bored, looking as though they wanted to be anywhere other than watching their only child take his first steps.

Growing up, shared rattle toys became shared peanut-butter sandwiches or bright-coloured hairclips pilfered from your mother’s china dish. Richie loved to wear those hairclips, more than even you. He’d stick an assortment of them into his unruly web of dark curls, specks of pink and lime and chrome swathed in a brunette tide.

Richie had always been… spacey, almost. From the first time, in third grade, you could cross the road on your own (“be very careful, Y/n. Remember to look both ways, and stop and listen for any cars, and never, ever cross on a bend.”) Richie’s parents gave no such forewarning, and it was with cheery ignorance he sauntered right into the - albeit, quiet - road on Monday morning.

Your hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar in childish alarm. “What are you doing? We have to look both ways first!”

“Oh yeah,” he returned cheerfully. “I forgot.”

Brushing off your scandalised look, he pointedly craned his neck left, then right, and then took your hand in his and pulled you from the curb with no warning. You shrieked at him all the way over the asphalt, sure a car would come from nowhere and career into you. When you scrambled onto the sidewalk on the opposite side, you ripped your hand from a giggling Richie’s grasp.

“That wasn’t funny!” you said shrilly. “I told you, we have to be careful when we cross a road, else we’ll both be hit by cars!”

“What happens when you get hit by a car?” Richie countered thoughtfully, as the two of you began walking. You paused to think, chewing your lip.

“We end up flat as pancakes, and the police have to peel us off the road,” you eventually returned triumphantly, but if your aim was to deter Richie, it backfired.

“Cool! I want to be a pancake!” declared the boy enthusiastically, but you merely shot him a frosty look and dragged him through the school gates.

You were there when Richie got his glasses, and the teasing started. Sneering jibes of “four-eyes” were brushed off, kids asking how many fingers they were holding up deflected with ease. You worried for Richie, the sensitive soul that you were, but he only ever laughed about it.

You were there when his parents stopped calling when they weren’t going to come home that night. Before, it was apologetic phone calls (“Richard, sweetie, we’re so sorry, the most silly thing - your father enjoyed himself a little too much at the gathering, you know how he likes his currant wine, only we thought it best to stay at the hotel tonight.”)

You found him hunched up by the side-table where the phone stood. The house was dark and cold - the heating wasn’t on. Richie looked like he hadn’t moved in years, a statue gathering dust, huddled against the wood of the table. You flurried around, snapping the lights on, straining to reach the boiler on tiptoe and turning the dial all the way up before scooting over to Richie and crossing your legs anxiously.

“What’s wrong, Richie?” you inquired. “Where are your parents?”

A pure stab of shock flashed through you at his sudden sob. Tears dripped down his screwed-up face, and when he spoke, his voice trembled. “I don’t know.”

Eventually, after a few phone calls, it was discovered that they were in New Jersey for an open evening of his father’s business. Richie stared at you, stricken, as you solemnly recited what the lady on the phone had told you. “But why didn’t they tell me?” he whispered. You didn’t know the answer to that, so you hugged him instead. He smelled of apple suckers and loneliness.

You were there in fourth grade when Richie discarded his mismatched sweaters and jeans for bright eyesores of Hawaiin shirts and jean-shorts and colourful sneakers. He traded his thin, wiry black glasses for thick red ones that made his eyes looked three times their normal size (you noticed what a pretty brown those irises were, then). He was there when your love for rainbow ponchos and ballet skirts and bracelets with bells on them faded in favour of garish maroons and olives and navies, overalls and sandals and short-shorts. He still wore the hairclips, sometimes - the dark red one that was always his favourite. The rest he kept in a small pot under his bed, along with a photo of you and him grinning toothily in first grade, tucked safe under the velvet lid.

You were there when Henry Bowers, held back for the third year running, decked him for the first time. He called Bowers a “son of a motherless whore” - something impressive-sounding he’d overheard on TV - when he saw him laying into the tiny asthmatic kid from world history. It hadn’t ended well, and you ended up wiping the blood from his nose and lips and teeth. He smiled sheepishly as you scolded him, but his apology was real as the blood staining the tissues. And another plus - from that day, you had three new friends. Stuttering Bill and Eddie Spaghetti and Stan the Man. You five were united as outcasts, not exactly a force to be reckoned with but certainly one that required brief consideration before attempting said reckoning - or whatever.

And in fifth grade, Richie hit some sort of tipping point.

He grew louder and more foul-mouthed, more enthusiastic in his spastic movements, and far more inclined to disrupt a class or smoke in the toilets or flunk school entirely. Then the remarks filtered in - intrusive and suggestive, comments on your legs or your chest or your mom. It annoyed you to no end, but you could think of no way to make him stop. Every time you snarked him or socked him on the shoulder, it made him slightly wilder, a shit-eating grin cracking his face in two - until you remembered something you’d seen once on telly. A man and a woman, and the man talked a lot. Whenever he talked too much, the woman would press a big red button that made a loud “BEEP BEEP” sound.

So, when the next remark came - “Hey Y/n - you have any other hobbies, ‘cept for being my own personal bicycle?” - you stared him dead in the eye and countered solemnly, “beep beep, Richie.”

He gaped at you like a fish out of water, speechless for the first time in years. “Did - did you just - beep me?”

From then on, it seemed to work to shut him down.

But it wasn’t until four months ago - when Georgie went missing, and you met Bev and Mike and Ben, and IT chased normalcy from your life did things between you and Richie start to shift.

You wanted to be with him every second - he was the longest-standing memory you had, the boy with hairclips in his curls who watered your head like a flower the first day of second grade. He was the one who poked your cheeks and called you “bubs” and yanked your ponytail and drew obscene images on your hand in permanent marker. He was the one who spent 70% of his time sleeping round your house when the silence of his was unbearable, who held you sombrely when you cried and cursed at the toughest of bullies in your honour. Richie was, to say with a flair for the dramatic, your life - mapped out in dark hair and freckles and lime sneakers, your other half.

The first time you wanted to kiss him was after the blood oath.

You hissed in pain as you wiped your hands absently on your black shorts. Richie walked beside you, gazing at the jagged cut on his palm with avid interest.

“I swear you can get AIDS from doing shit like this,” Richie commented as the both of you reached your bikes discarded in the grass.

You huffed a laugh. “Probably - but don’t go telling Eddie that.”

“Please. He’d convulse and die on the spot,” Richie scoffed, swinging a leg over the leather saddle. “So, where’ll it be, sweetcheeks?”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname. “I’m kind of in the mood to not think about anything. You wanna head to the arcade?”

Two hours later, pumped up on blue-raspberry Slushies with fingers cramping from the buttons and levers you’d been busy stabbing and yanking, you and Richie sat in a greasy-spoon café, snacking out of a shared basket of cheesy fries as the sky darkened outside the window.

“What d’you think’ll happen now?” Richie asked suddenly.

“What do you mean?” You swallowed your fries, reaching for your Pepsi to wash it down.

“Now IT’s dead. Kaput, bitch. No more missing kids, no more hallucinations, no more freaky fuckin’ clowns.” Richie heaved a sigh. “Cause I don’t think everything will just magically go back to the way it was.”

“No,” you mused in agreement. “No, you’re probably right.”

“‘Cept for us,” Richie beamed suddenly. “We’re inseparable, right?”

You grinned. “You bet, Tozier. For better or for worse.”

You looked at him - skin illuminated by the softly-glowing neon lights from the sign outside, the contours of his face sharply shadowed, hair a black, untameable mess as ever - and the urge to kiss him took you so fiercely, it almost knocked you off your chair. You swallowed your mouthful of fries too quickly in your shock, and one ended up dislodged in your throat. You choked and wheezed, and Richie unhelpfully thumped you on the back until you’d swallowed the damn thing.

“Jesus Christ,” he commented. “Y/n, if you wanted something to choke on, you could’ve just asked.”

A week ago, the comment would be met with an eye-roll; now it only made a flush climb your face, and you took a long swig of your iced Pepsi to ward off the redness.

The first time you actually kissed Richie Tozier was two months later.

It was midnight, but sleep troubled you not. You sat wide-awake, flat on your back and staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, when a sudden tap like long nails on wood made you start violently. Clambering to your feet, you glanced at your window; sure enough, a second later, a pebble hit the glass pane and bounced off again, and you sighed, picking your way over and opening it wide.

“Throwing pebbles, Romeo?” you called down teasingly. Richie glared up at you.

“Can I come up?”

You jerked your head in affirmation. At this point, your parents were so used to you going to bed alone and coming down in the morning with Richie, you didn’t even have to worry.

You slid the ladder out the window until it touched solid ground, then went back to your bed. A minute later, Richie’s face appeared at your open window, and he hauled himself in with all the grace of a sack of wet concrete.

You frowned as the scents of - was that wine? Wine and perfume - wafted in after him. He was also wearing a suit - a suit - but the illusion of whatever formality he’d been going for ended at his hair; looping black curls in total disarray, a soft tide of dark hair held back by a lone red hairclip.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” you eventually managed to choke out.

“My parents are home,” he answered non-communally. “And they decided to host a fucking mixer at our house tonight. So I was forced to wear this bullshit thing -“ he plucked at the suit in disgust “-and I only just managed to get away.”

“Wow.” Your eyes caught the red hairclip glinting amongst the soft web of dark curls. “I haven’t seen that thing in years.”

His hand skittered up to trace the clip absently. “My final act of defiance,” he chuckled weakly, before sinking down to sit on the carpet with heavy shoulders and clasped hands.

“Why are they such assholes, Y/n?” he asked suddenly. “I don’t know if I mortally offended them as in infant, or some shit like that - but even if I did, I still wouldn’t know, because they don’t talk to me. I don’t get it. Why have a kid if - if you’re not gonna-“ He waved his hands around in frustration, as if he could wring some meaning from the sentence if he hit at it enough.

“I don’t know, Richie,” you sighed, sliding off the bed and scooting closer until you sat toe-to-toe with the despairing boy. “I wish - I wish I could help you.”

Finally, he looked up; the tear tracks on his face glistened faintly as he smiled - not a smirk, or a shit-eating grin - a real smile that tore a hole in his chest and let all the dully-glowing fragments of the real Richie spill out for you to see. “You already have,” he answered softly.

Your breath seemed to catch in your throat. “But there’s gotta be more I can do. Damnit, Richie, I love you, so much and it fucking kills me to see you just - just take this shit.”

Richie stared at you, stricken. “You love me?”

You scoffed lightly, your face softening. “You have no idea.”

“But…” Richie was struggling to finish a coherent sentence. “Do you love me like - like the kid the split your granola bars with in second grade or do you love me like a…” Again with the wild hand gestures. “Y’know?”

A laugh bubbled through your lips. “Who says it can’t be both?”

As he opened his mouth to retort, you covered it with yours.

It was chaste and clumsy, but the chaps on his lips felt just right against the smoothness of yours, and the squeak of surprise he made at the embrace was swallowed. You could feel the heat of his cheeks and the flutter of his eyelashes and the firm beat of his heart all in that one, fleeting moment your lips touched.

And even as you pulled back, you felt him still. He was stammering in a way that’d give Bill a run for his money, but you could only smile.

Never in your life did you dream you’d fall in love with Richie Tozier - but right now was one of the rare, blissful seconds reality was better than dreams.

Shortsighted 👓

@ashlynblack30 asked me to write about Draco wearing Harry’s glasses that he stole. And sweetie, can I just take this moment to tell you (again lol) how amazing you are? Thank you so much for your lovely and kind words 💖
Even though I am very, very certain this is far from what you imagined when you asked me to write this, I still hope you’ll like it? :)

It’s also on AO3 :)

It probably hadn’t been the best idea to actually wear the glasses. Or at least it would have been better to just wear them at home and not to work. People were giving him all kinds of funny looks. Because, of course, they recognised the glasses. How could they not? They were incomparable and there was no question who these glasses belonged to.

Even if his colleagues didn’t assume Draco had stolen them, it made him look like a weird fanboy. That was the last thing he wanted people to think. But the urge to wear them had been bigger than the dread of all the humiliation he would probably face.

It had been so easy to steal them. Potter had fallen asleep on his desk, as he usually did these days. Draco had simply slipped into his office and snatched the glasses from his desk.

“Oi, Malfoy!”

Draco turned around and cursed under his breath. Damn it! What was Weasley doing here? Wasn’t he supposed to be on holiday with his wife? He eyed Draco suspiciously, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Are you wearing Harry’s glasses?”

Draco snorted.

“Why would I do that, Weasley? That is absolutely ridiculous.”

“I’ve never seen you wear glasses before,” Weasley insisted. “And you want me to believe it’s just a coincidence you show up here with glasses that look eerily like Harry’s, while Harry is in St Mungo’s because he couldn’t find his?”

Draco couldn’t help but gape at him.

“What? Potter is in St Mungo’s? What happened?”

“He has a concussion. Apparently, he kept bumping into things in his office, because he couldn’t see anything. When we found him, he was buried under one of his shelves.”

Draco’s eyes widened. Fuck! That was not what he had intended.

“Will he be okay?”

Weasley shrugged.

“I guess so. He already told the Healers he felt fine. But they want to keep him there for observation.”

Draco nodded absentmindedly, while the room suddenly started spinning. His right hand flew to his temple as a sudden shooting pain rippled through him.

“So, are you going to tell me why you stole Harry’s glasses?”

“I can’t talk right now. I’m busy, Weasley. Tell Potter I hope he gets well soon.”

“Yeah, right. Because you’re so concerned about him,” Weasley yelled after him as Draco hurried away.

Once he was in his office, he closed the door behind him and leaned against it. Everything was blurry and he felt really dizzy. It was almost like the floor was moving beneath him, making it hard to keep his balance. Maybe he needed to lay down for a bit. Yes, that sounded like a good idea. But before Draco could make his way over to the sofa, another wave of dizziness hit him and everything went black.

When Draco opened his eyes, everything around him was white. This definitely wasn’t his office. He looked around, dazed, until he realised where he was. St Mungo’s. He tried to remember what had happened. He had been in his office… Had he fainted? Everything was still a blur.

He tried to sit up carefully, his body aching as if he had been hit by a bludger. Multiple times.

“You’re finally awake.”

Draco jumped. He hadn’t realised there was another person in the room. It didn’t take him long to spot the mop of black hair in the bed beside his. Of all the rooms in this bloody hospital!


He was wearing different glasses. Well, obviously he was. Draco still had his. Or did he? It didn’t seem like he was wearing them anymore. Thank Merlin! That would have been awkward! Speaking of awkward, Potter and his new glasses were a very strange sight. The frame was angular shaped and thick. And yellow. It looked horrible on him.

“So, what happened to you?” Potter asked. He was sitting crossed-legged on his bed, his elbows resting on his knees.

“Um… I’m not exactly sure,” Draco said quietly. That wasn’t entirely true. But he couldn’t say anything to Potter. Not now. Not ever.

“Okay.” Potter gave him a weird look that made Draco want to avert his eyes. “Look, I don’t want to make things unnecessarily uncomfortable right now, but I have to ask you. Why were you wearing my glasses?”

Draco gulped. Had Potter seen Draco wearing his glasses after all? When? When he had been brought in? Where were they now? His eyes quickly darted to the nightstand. No sign of them. Had Weasley told Potter?

Just play dumb.

“Why would you think I’d wear your glasses?”

Potter pressed his lips together, either out of annoyance or to suppress a smile, Draco wasn’t sure. Instead of replying, Potter got up and vanished into the bathroom. Draco frowned. When Potter emerged again, he was holding a hand mirror.

“I hate to break it to you,” Potter said, “but with those marks around your eyes, it’s pretty useless to deny it.” He handed Draco the hand mirror and looked at him expectantly.

Draco didn’t understand what Potter was talking about, until he took a look at himself. Around his eyes, on the bridge of his nose and on his temples were angry red marks. It almost looked like he was still wearing Potter’s glasses. Oh, for Merlin’s sake!

“So, care to tell me what-”

Before Potter could finish his question, the door opened and a bunch of people in white coats entered.

“Ah, Mr Malfoy, you are awake. Excellent,” one of the Healers said. “Hello, Mr Potter. Still insisting on going home?”  

Potter made a face.

“I told you, I feel fine,” he grumbled.

“Yes, yes. Only a few more hours and then you are free to go. Now, Mr Malfoy.” The Healer reached inside his coat pocket. “These glasses you were wearing when you were brought in…”

Oh, great! Draco felt the sudden urge to take a pillow and smother himself with it.

“… it seems like they were cursed.”

Draco blinked.

“They were?” Of course, that had been his suspicion all along.

“Yes. You were lucky you weren’t wearing them that long. It might have had fatal consequences if you had worn them all day.”

Draco bit his lip and made sure his eyes didn’t wander over to the other bed. Potter wasn’t supposed to find out about this!

“Our specialist will take another look at them. In the meantime, you should rest, Mr Malfoy. I’ll bring you a few potions later. And we’ll get rid of those marks on your face. You must have had an allergic reaction to the glasses. Are they new?”

“Um…” Draco wiped his suddenly very sweaty palms on the mattress. “In a manner of speaking.”

Keep reading

My Biggest Regret

Originally posted by pinkharold

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Summary: Christmas fic where Harry left you when you told him you were pregnant and you run into him at a party 

A/N: this took forever and I’m sorry! But I would really love to make this into a series! If anyone has any requests to do with this AU please send me an ask!

italics = flashback

He wasn’t meant to be here.

Niall had assured you a thousand times he would not be in attendance at his annual Christmas party. You rarely ever attended parties that were hosted by your mutual friends out of fear that you would run into him. Not that you really had time for parties anymore. Being a single mum really was a full-time job.

But Niall had also reassured you this year’s Christmas party would be more of a family-friendly affair rather than the alcohol-heavy house parties he used to host in the holiday season. So that morning you had dressed your little one-year-old son in the elf costume you had been dying to make him wear all December. Niall had insisted that everyone had to be Christmas themed in the way you dressed, so you decided to go the extra mile and get a Mrs Claus dress especially.

At least Niall hadn’t been lying about the family-friendly part.

You had been absolutely enjoying yourself. You had been able to catch up with some people who you hadn’t seen in a long time and introduce them to Alex. You had barely even held him for the past hour you had been there because everyone was so eager to have their turn holding him. You were really beginning to regret hiding Alex away from this group of people, just because they were friends with his dad. After all, they were your friends too.

That is until he walked in.

Keep reading

by now 

i picture London Tipton has her own fashion company called “London Tipton!” with an exclamation point. It’s actually successful, mostly because she was already stinking rich to begin with. But with advice from her Dad, Moseby, she’s made smart decisions like financing. Basically she hired a bunch of people to do everything that’s not fashion related for her. She lives in New York City with her boyfriend who is a photographer. They met at one of London’s photo shoots. It’s great because he loves to take pictures of London and London loves to have her pictures taken. They’re perfect for each other .

I picture Maddie Fitzpatrick is now working for a charity organization in Miami, Florida. She helps domestic abuse victims. She also works at an LGBT youth center as a side project. She was inspired to be an LGBT activist after an old friend from college came out to her and was from a conservative family that didn’t and still doesn’t accept her. Looking for love isn’t high on her priorities because she’s already making differences in people’s lives. London is a big donor to the charity organization and the LGBT youth center.

I picture Mr. Moseby is now the Chief Executive Officer of the Tipton Organization after Mr. Tipton decided to retire. It was a slam dunk vote among the executives for Moseby to run the Tipton company. Moseby’s still married to Miss Tutweiller, who now goes by Emma Moseby. Tutweiller had to give away most of her cats for adoption because there wasn’t space in their Manhattan condo. She now has two cats named Bailey and London. She named them after her best student and her most challenging student. She still teaches. She transferred from the S.S. Tipton to a Manhattan school called Tribeca Prep. While Moseby is running one of the biggest hotel companies in America, he helps London with her fashion company. It’s mainly just advice and just someone to talk to since she still hasn’t had real friends since Maddie and Bailey. London and her boyfriend visits the Mosebys all the time consider the fact they all live in the same city. It’s sweet. 

Carey Martin is remarried with Kurt after Kurt proposed to her on live television, while accepting an MTV Video Music award and Carey was at home watching. Now, Kurt and Carey are a duo musical artist. Everyday is a challenge but they always love each other. 

Esteban Julio Ricardo Montoya de la Rosa Ramírez is the manager of the Tipton Hotel in Boston. It’s pretty sweet considering his good friend, Moseby, is the new head boss. His pet project is Malcolm who is the newest bell boy. He’s teaching him everything he knows about the job. He tells stories about his days as a bell boy. 

Woody Fink is a professional wrestler. His ring name is “The Wood” and his finisher move is “The Specials” like restaurants where he stuffs his opponents face into his armpit followed by a body slam. He’s slowly growing a fanbase. 

Arwin Hawkhauser is a pro inventor. He invented a popular robot like toy. He’s got a lot of money now. He invited his mother to live with him in his house to take care of her. His girlfriend, yes he got over Carey, thinks it’s sweet. But it’s a constant battle between Arwin’s mother and his girlfriend. 

Zack and Cody are Best Selling Authors for their autobiography book, “A Sweet Autobiography of Zack and Cody Martin”. Picking a name took a long time. Zack wanted something sweet and Cody wanted something that sounds formal. Bailey came up with the full title. They wrote and published the book right after college. The book was Maddie’s idea. After the book tour, Zack and Cody are officially separated and living their own lives. Zack is a talent agent for athletes and entertainers like actors and musicians in Los Angeles. His greatest strength is his charismatic personality. Plus over half his clientele are women. Some things haven’t changed for Zack. And Cody is a new math professor at MIT. He’s the youngest in the graduate school so his colleagues don’t really like him and because Cody can be over confident of his intelligence. Cody and Bailey are still together. Bailey is a veterinarian. Her childhood growing up on a farm and her knowledge for medicine inspired her to help animals. Zack and Cody visits home a couple times a year to see their parents. They also keep in touch with Maddie, Arwin, London, and Mr. Moseby from time to time. Unfotuntately, they lost touch with Woody because of his constant travels. But they watch his matches every week on TV. 


The Point IV

Originally posted by xananeedscoffee

Billy Hargrove x Reader



The ride back to school was silent between Y/N and Billy. He had begged her, and she said nothing in return. Just turned the key in the ignition, and drove out of the parking lot.

Y/N could feel his stare burning through the side of her face the whole ride back, but she kept her composure and didn’t say a word. She parked in the first available spot in the lot and turned the car off.

“You’re not going to like what I have to say, but I can help you as a friend, as someone who knows you, but we can’t do this in a relationship. We just can’t. I can’t handle what this is doing to me emotionally. I’m not strong enough,” Billy glared at Y/N.

“So what, when things get tough, you back out? I did exactly what you wanted me to do, and you might as well have spit in my face. I gave you emotion, I let you in, and you’re what? Running away?” His voice raised. He was clearly angry. Y/N took a deep breath, then turned to look at Billy.

“You’re acting like this because you feel like you’ve been backed into a corner. You’re uncomfortable and vulnerable. That is the exact opposite of what I’m trying to do here.”

“Then what are you trying to do? Because I’m getting mixed signals and none of them are good!” His voice boomed in the enclosed space, making Y/N flinch. “You want me to do something, I do it, and now you want out?”

“I’m trying to help!” Y/N shouted desperately.

“How is leaving me is supposed to help?! On what fucking planet does that help anything, Y/N?!”

“Don’t!” Y/N pointed at Billy. “Don’t you do that!”

Keep reading


A/N: Heyho you guys! Have you opened the first little door of your advent calendars already? ;-) I’m so hyped for Christmas, gahh! Here goes my first Christmas Imagine! Tagging @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen because it’s based on her prompts! Have fun reading!

Words: 3338
Warnings: ONE MAJOR SPOILER FOR THOR: RAGNAROK, smut, dub-con, spanking, incubus!Loki

Keep reading

WONDER TWEEK: Ugh! I was freaking out!

WONDER TWEEK: I was already on edge today, and fucking Clyde didn’t help at all!

MOSQUITO: It’s mosquito,….,.,,. bzz…


MOSQUITO: Jeez okay.

WONDER TWEEK: Craig tried to help calm me down, but it wasn’t helping at all.

WONDER TWEEK: I didn’t want to wait for his mom to come pick us up, so I walked off on my own to try and calm down.

WONDER TWEEK: It didn’t work.

WONDER TWEEK: I was actually going to come back! But I couldn’t even get myself to think about being around Craig right after that!

WONDER TWEEK: I was mortified! Agh!!!

WONDER TWEEK: So I went home to try and chill out there instead.

WONDER TWEEK: Still didn’t work!

WONDER TWEEK: I just sat in my bed for an hour until it was time to come here.

WONDER TWEEK: I had to carry Stripe’s cage all the way to the base, alone.

WONDER TWEEK: Do you know how heavy that cage is?! There’s a reason why Craig and I both took her to my house.

WONDER TWEEK: And we were gonna come back to my house, too! He had his outfit here!

WONDER TWEEK: He probably had to write down a new S on a piece of paper because he left his usual one at my house! RGGGghGHGHghh



MOSQUITO: He’s– he’s not dead, though.


Wanted (2)

Steve Harrington x Reader, Billy Hargrove x Reader

Summary: She just wants to be wanted. More specifically, she wants to be wanted by Steve… Until Billy Hargrove weasels his way into her heart.  

Warnings: language, billy’s a jerk, that’s it for noW

Word Count: 1.5k+


Originally posted by strangersthingsdaily

“Y/n, right?” Billy asks her the following morning before school starts. He’s leaning against the lockers next to hers and she’s grabbing her biology textbook. She glances at him questionably and holds the textbook to her chest. 

“Yeah, who’s askin’?” she bites back, shutting her locker.

Keep reading

BTS(Hyung Line)|| Mafia!AU|| Their wife is super badass

Request:  Oh my god I just found your blog and I absolutely love your writings (ESPECIALLY the mafia stuff 😍🙌🏻) I was wondering if you could write something where they are Mafia bosses and the s/o is their wife They are very protective and not really want their s/o to be around the pent house when they do business… but then something goes wrong while the wife is in the house and it turns out she is super badass (like with a gun or something) and they’re completely taken back but in a good way? :)

A/N: Nawwww *_* Thank youu….This really made my day. I hope I made it like you imagined ^^ 

Also, I’ll do the Maknae Line soon, it’s just that I’m  excited to post again and I need some inspiration for them ^^

Gifs aren’t mine.

Seokjin: Faith has always been his highest priority. Faith decided everything. Life. Death. Love. Hate. Worth it or worthless. And most of his trust belonged to you, along with his heart and his soul. You were his everything and you were his alone. But there was one small problem… He was the head of one of the most infamous Mafias. And he was your husband, who would solve most of his problems  with…less legal tools. But he always tried his best to keep it all away from you. To make you the normal part of his life, where he could hide himself once it was too much. And it often was.

His attempt of discredition however, failed.

He never brought work home, or at least you thought so. You were supposed to be on a weekend trip with your sister, but her husband broke his leg and she put her everything into treating him like her child, including scolding him for being this clumsy. Thats why you decided to come back home one day earlier, excited to spent some time with your always-busy husband. But your carefree mood got destroyed as two guns welcomed you in your shared apartment, with two tall men holding them. You froze for a moment before you took action, throwing your luggage into their faces before you sprinted towards the living room and took the gun you hid behind the cushions for situations like this. You pointed it at the right one, while the left one pinted his at you. You heard and felt nothing but the blood rushing through your veins and in your ears. Suddenly the door leading into Jin’s office slammed open and he stormed out, followed by another man. He had to realize the situation for a moment before he rushed to your side, not paying any attention to the now confused henchman at all. 

He stood in front of you and put his hands on the front part of the gun while smirking at you. 

“Looks like my girl has some hidden talents. Did they really aim at you? Do you want them to pay for it?”

Yoongi: Being with him was complicated. He was complicated. And he knew that. That was one of the main reasons why he loved you like he did. It was complicated, maybe even toxic. But it was love. 

The fact that he was the big boss of the Korean mafia should’ve made you feel like the most secure person in the world, but in fact, it didn’t.

A loud ‘Bang’ woke you from your peaceful slumber. Half asleep your hand slid beside you to be welcomed with cold sheets insted of the warm presence of your husband. This wouldn’t have worried you as much, since he usually wakes up early, but the second ‘Bang’ made you realize that someone was aggresively knocking on your front door. And considering who you were and who he was it terrified you. But you also knew that there was no time for a panic attack. You had to do something. You took the gun placed under Yoongis pillow and made your way into the living room, the light tapping of your naked feet got drowned out by the next angry knock. Still no sight of your husband. 

You slowly creeped to the door, put your hand on the handle and opened the door when you met the face of a familair looking man who was more than surprised to see you with a gun pointing at him. Before any of you could do or say something, two arms hugged you from behind and a low whisper made your legs go weak:

“Oh Doll, what do you think you’re doing, aiming at my best man? Such a bad girl…”

Hoseok: Being with Hoseok was like riding a rollercoaster. Many up’s and down’s, filled with ecstasy and adrenaline. You were his rock. His little girl, the only thing that kept him from becoming as heartless as he had to be for his job. Little did he knew that you also had your “secrets”.

You were in the kitchen, cutting onions for dinner, while he had some “work” to do. He actually had a meeting with a client in his office, what you disliked, since your home was privat area, but reasoning with Hoseok was one of the worst things you could do. He always had a killing argument, or at least was able to sway you, far too often by kisses and his…other qualities. Thats why you let him do his thing, under the condition that everything including blood, murder or guns wouldn’t be part of the meeting. 

You hummed softly while you swayed your hips in the rhythm of the music, when a loud crack startled you. You froze for a moment before you made your way to Hoseoks office. Suddenly, the door opened and a man, probably the client, run out, directly towards you. You, on the other hand, sensed, that something must’ve gon wrong, thats why you catched at his arm and turned him around. The unexpected move made him fall to the ground, and you used this to your advantage, sitting on his back while using the knive you still had to press it to his throat. Not enough to make him bleed, but enough to show him that any move could change that.

You suddenly got interrupted by a low chuckle and looked up to see your beloved husband standing there, observing the scene in front of him.

“I thought no blood and murder, Jagi? Come on kitten, let that pig live. The carpet is far too expensive.”

Namjoon: Don’t think this makes up how much you fucked up today, Namjoon.”,you hissed while he still attacked your neck with kisses. 

“I know babygirl.”, his lips vibrated against your skin as a low chuckle left his throat, ”but I will make it up.” With one last kiss he left you to return to the table, where a bunch of other man sat. And that was the problem. Being the leader of the Mafia, Namjoon rarely spent time with you. This day however, was supposed to be your day, but he somehow managed to forget that he invited his members to discuss whatever. You didn’t even wanted to know. You were furious, to say the least, and if it wouldnt have been members of the mafia, with guns visuably attached to their belts, you would have kicked them out the moment they entered, but here you were, all dolled up for a nice dinner, but insted you poured yourself some of Namjoons Whiskey in a glass and angrily gulped it down.

As the evening went on you disappeared into the bedroom to kill time, but eventually decided, after you tolerated the guests for 5(!) hours, that enough was enough. Still wearing your red, tight dress you made your way in the living room where all of them convened. You were greeted with the smoke of cigarretes and the penetrating scent of alkohol. 

As you were about to make your way towards Namjoon, who’s gaze already lingered on you, you had to pass them all. One of them however, just had to had to step over the line. The loud smack his hand made when it came in contact with your ass stopped the time in the room. Everyone, including Joon and you had to realize that this just happened. And you were the first one to do so. You turned around and stared at the man who just gave you a reason to finally let go of it all. Your body now completely faced him and a small smirk left your lips before his head viciously kissed the wooden table. But that wasn’t enough to ease you. With a loud ‘Bang’ he fell from his chair and you took one of the empty beer botles to show this bastard who you were. 

Namjoon, however, who was about to kill the man, smirked at the picture in front of him. When one of his man asked why he wouldn’t stop you he chuckled:

“Nah, It’s too early.”

Thick Thighs Save Lives Chapter One- Dean x Plus Sized Reader


“You’d be very wrong about that one sweetheart, but don’t worry…  I’m going to make sure that I spend the next few days showing you just how wrong you are.”

Thick Thighs Save Lives Chapter One
Words: 2007
Warnings: Some sexual language.  Some body issues talk. 

AN: *THE FIRST SECTION IS THE DRABBLE. THIS IS THE EXTENSION*  So by popular? demand, here we are…  Much to my dismay.    I have started this.  LOL.  Though who am I kidding this is a birthday present to me since I turn 31 tomorrow and am feeling hella old.  I hope you like it.  Please leave me feedback if you would like this to continue.  

Tagging:  This will be at least 10-15 chapters.  If you are willing to interact with me about the story then I am willing to tag you!  Though if you no longer at least “heart” it then I will stop tagging just as an FYI.  :) 

Originally posted by lookprettyliveclassyplaydirty

Ah, you gonna take me home tonight
Ah, down beside that red firelight
Are you gonna let it all hang out
Fat bottomed girls, you make the rockin’ world go round
Queen- Fat Bottomed Girls.

You would have to remember to either kill Jody or thank her later for sending Dean Winchester your way.  Being a hunter, you had heard all the glories of the Winchester brothers.  You had also heard some pretty ruthless things about the older brother.  That he was hot headed, rash, and made life difficult.  Yet, as you watched him nursing a  beer,you couldn’t help the pink in your cheeks.

He look like he walked out of a fucking J-Crew catalog and you were suddenly wishing those lips were wrapped around something else.   His hand raised to call over the bartender and you sighed.  There would be no choice but to go over and talk to him now.  Your shift ended twenty-five minutes ago according to the schedule, but Buddy your relief for the evening was running late.   Then again Buddy was always running late.   

“Junie!  Customer!”  You bellowed into the back hoping you could put off what was to come.  Your boss barked back at you to ‘do your goddamn job’. You sighed in defeat as you knew it wasn’t a choice.  Scuttling down to the other side of the bar, you smiled as you stood in front of him.   Your knees going weak when smiled brightly back at you.

Keep reading


Kick-Ass Chicks: Artist, Robin Eisenberg

Did we just step out of our own little bubble and into an extraterrestial world where strong females rule the planet? Absolutely! We’re smitten with artist, Robin Eisenberg’s futuristic illustrations where all of her characters move to and exist in an array of colorful compositions. We couldn’t wait to be abducted transport ourselves into Robin’s digital world and get to know the inspiration behind her bold galactic art. We picked her brain about her love for art and found out she has super exciting upcoming projects for 2018! Find out more after the jump..

Keep reading