i had a sudden onset of

T&S

Reader x Jungkook // 6020 words

Summary: Toddlers have always hated Jungkook and Jungkook have always hated toddlers  

“Jungkook… what the hell happened here? And why’s there spaghetti on the ceiling?”

Genre: Fluff

Originally posted by yourpinkpill

A/N: swear this was just supposed to be a drabble but I got carried away. based on a lil story my lecturer told that one time (’:


“Well, we could just meet up at the library later?”

“I uh… I can’t,” You mumble, fidgeting in your spot because you’ve had a conversation just like this every week now.

“Y/N, we have to start the project today. He wants it in by tomorrow night.”

“I know, I know,” You sigh. “I’m sorry it’s just, I have to babysit my sister tonight… I’ll just work on it and then send it to you in the morning for you to compile and edit?”

“What? I’m not going to let you work on it alone,” He frowns. “I can just meet you at your place…”

“A-are you sure?” You ask and your eyes light up with hope. “I live about 20 minutes off campus by car…” You mumble.

“Oh…”

“Yeah, that’s what my last partner said too,” You laugh. “Really, Jungkook I can just do the wo—”

“Just text me the address. I’ll find my way there,” He smiles, cutting your sentence short.

“You don’t have to—”

“I have a class in 10 so I have to go… but text me your address okay?”

He doesn’t even wait to hear your reply, rushing out of the classroom before you could answer him.

Keep reading

If anyone is still wondering why I am so picky about doberman breeders:

A customer came through my cash lane between classes yesterday, returning some dog food because his dog died a few days prior. I did my typical “I’m sorry for your loss” and finished the return, and he asked me where cat litter was because he’d been so worried about his dog that he’d run out of cat necessities. So of course I got Creed out of his tuck so I could walk him there and that’s when he noticed I had a dog with me for the first time…

and fell to his knees sobbing because the dog he just lost was his 5yo doberman, to lymphoma, on Wednesday. Sudden onset, they found it and within the month she was gone. Seeing Creed reminded him so much of his girl that he couldn’t bear the pain and sat on the floor for several minutes crying about his dog. I let Creed break the no-touchie-on-duty rule and he sat with this man, licking his face, leaning against him as he was hugged, until the guy was able to compose himself a little better.

His dog was from a well known shitty breeder that markets her imported dogs as Da Best Evaaa working and breeding dogs, 100% full Euro and superior championship bloodlines all the way from Serbia, super healthy compared to those icky American dogs. His dog died young and it burned him so much that he’s gone to the malinois because at least most of those make it to 10.

You want to know why I’m so choosey about breeder decisions in this breed? Because that’s not uncommon in this breed. Because this guy was completely abandoned by his “breeder” the second he knew that his dog had cancer and had to go through this hard time by himself. Because this guy had such a strong bond with his dog that he could not help but have a complete meltdown on the floor of my store because he saw another doberman.

Because the health in this breed is god awful and because the breeder he’d chosen is similarly god awful, I led a 40+yo 200+lb man through my store as he continued to weep and sniffle and hug my dog because he lost his so tragically.

You can call me elitist when you’re the person comforting the folks who have lost their dogs to such tragedies.

Mistakes In His Head

Peter Maximoff x Reader

Words: 679
Prompt: ( @fandomingforever​ ) Hey I just stumbled upon your writing and it’s amazing!! I was wondering if you could do something where the reader is a mutant that can make anyone attracted to them and they are best friends with Peter. One day Peter all of a sudden feels attracted to her and he is upset because they said they would never you they’re powers on him. So he confronts them only to find out they weren’t using they’re powers?? That would be great.
A/N: No matter how many fandoms I write for; I’ll always come back to Peter. He’s complex, fun and a real sweetheart. I feel like I’ve connected to the character so much since I made this blog that I’ve almost gotten to know him as a real life person. Ah, the curses of fandoming.

Originally posted by future-mrs-rogers-peterm

Peter awoke pasted in sweat; his hands shaking against the hot blankets on his bed. He’d been plagued by restlessness; the sudden onset of intense emotions pulling at his heart and mind. 
He’d been close with (y/n) for almost a year now. She was beautiful, gentle. A flickering candle, illuminating a dark and desolate room. But he’d never…wanted. Wanted for them to be more. Or if he had, he’d shaken it off as a moment in passing; mistakes in his head.
He knew what she could do to people. Pulling their emotions around, if she wanted to. Of course, she had never really wanted to; and if she had, she’d never do it to him. She’d promised him that long ago.
But still.
He gritted his teeth, rushing up from his bed and zipping up his clothes in seconds. He ruffled his silver hair in the mirror, one curl refusing to comply with him no matter how hard he squinted at it and pushed at it.
He’d have to leave it.
Forcing the door open, he sped down the corridor; his hands unsteady as he lifted them to knock on her door. His palms were clammy, and he could feel his heart thrumming against his chest. Why? Why now?
“Come in, Pete!” (y/n) called from behind the door, her voice ringing out softly through the crack.

Giving the door a push, he took in her room. Posters and paintings made some attempt to make it a little brighter; a cream rug lay at the foot of her bed. She sat on the rug in her t-shirt and jeans, flipping through an old magazine. Her hair was still a little wet from showering, and Peter felt his lip tremble.
“You look like death. Not in a good way” (y/n) chuckled, pooling through the pages of her magazine. 
“Couldn’t sleep” Peter added, his voice slightly too high.
She looked up then, her eyes meeting his.
“Is everything alright, Pete?”
“Yes. No.” Peter breathed and then swallowed hard, cracking his knuckles.
“I-”
“-You said you’d never…do that mind stuff to me. Right? You said you wouldn’t.”
(y/n) opened her mouth, her brow furrowing.
“Of course I wouldn’t. I don’t know why you’d think I’d do something like that, Pete.”
When she said his name, he felt emotions rise in his chest. He wanted to respond; but somehow words weren’t coming to him right. The silence began to hang like a dead weight between them, like lead hanging in the air.
Say something.
He took a deep breath.
“I’ve got all of these…” he waved his arms in the air “…feelings. About things. Recently.”
“…feelings.”
“Right” he nodded “and they’re complicating things. My thoughts and stuff.”
(y/n) put her magazine down on the floor, pushing herself up to stand across from him. She looked down at the carpet, pulling back a stray hair behind her ear.
“If I did go into your mind and…do something; it wouldn’t last very long. It would feel like seeing through a fog; and then you’d be normal again” she breathed, wrinkling her nose “but I wouldn’t do that to you, Peter. I want you to believe me.”
She was right. He’d seen her do it before; make people think thoughts that weren’t their own, feel things they’d never felt. But it was always like a haze was cast over them; lasting only a day, if that.
This had gone on for too long. Too much clarity.
Peter groaned.
“Ah. I’m…yeah. I’m sorry. I just wasn’t sure.”
She nodded. “It’s okay, Peter. Really. It’s fine.”
Silence hit, hard and fast, and Peter started feeling incredibly awkward. He shifted his weight, his hands clammy at his sides.
“I’ll…I’ll see you at breakfast?” Peter stumbled, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets.
“Yeah. Of course” (y/n) smiled sheepishly, avoiding his eyes.
Peter turned to leave, his hand on the doorframe.
“Pete-” she added.
“-yeah?” he interjected almost too quickly, biting his lower lip.
“I do, though. Like you, I mean.”
Peter grinned, his heart feeling warm, his head giddy.
“Wow.”

Feel Something

Originally posted by out-in-the-open

Characters: Sam x Siren!Reader, Dean, OFC

Word Count: 2002

Warnings: Spn-like death/murder/violence, Angst, Some Fluff

Request: This idea may seem weird but what if reader is a mermaid. Now stay with me I know you already thinking this idea is crazy but let me elaborate. Reader is a mermaid who feeds off of people’s thoughts. And she believes that she isn’t harming anyone but when people started dying from like brain deca that’s when the duo goes to investigate. Idk this idea came to me after I watched Just My Imagination and this is really long but can you make this happen. Pairing whoever you want(please pick Sam)

A/N: @diesintheshower, I’m so sorry this took forever.  My life kind of spiraled out of control there for a while.  But I really did love your request!  I hope you like this/ I did didn’t muck it up.


You stirred your latte, drawing patters in the foam.

You feigned attention to your book, to your coffee, pretending you were paying attention to anything but the man across from you.  

Still, you found yourself staring at him more than you should be.

Another man would have thought you were flirting with him.  But he was a writer and had eyes only for his work.  What was more, he was in love with one of his characters.  You could feel it, see it in his mind.  

You delved deep into his thoughts, into his work, drinking in the new ideas and the new stories he’d brought with him to the coffee shop today.

He came here daily, to write uninterrupted.  

And you came here daily to feel his stories, to feed off that creative drive.  

You drew your spoon from your coffee, wiping the foam off on a napkin before taking in your reflection in its convex surface. 

Your reflection, a siren’s reflection.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

What scenarios constitute an absolute emergency to you? The other day we had an owner call saying their dog was lethargic and had vomited that morning. They could only come in that afternoon so we waited. When the dog arrived it's gums were grey and it's abdomen was tight as a drum. Radiograph revealed a bloat and we had the dog in surgery in a matter of minutes. Luckily it survived but I think we all wished we had pressed for more information on the dog earlier. Other emergencies to me (1/2)

(2/2) include a male animal straining to urinate that may be blocked (we mainly see cats with this issue), any obvious ingestion of a toxin, any issues with dystocia, profuse bloody vomiting/diarrhea, sudden onset of multiple seizures or uncontrollable seizures, extreme fever, labored or troubled breathing. I know in the typical hectic day at a clinic it’s hard to get all the info we need but I feel that some scenarios warrant an immediate visit! Any others that you would include? Thanks!

It can be really difficult to triage appropriately over the phone, because owners don’t always know what they’re looking at, and may inadvertently give you the wrong information. For example, I’ve recently had a German Shepherd patient who was ‘lethargic this morning’ at 9am when they called, but exsanguinating due to a bleeding tumor in her abdomen at lunchtime when they arrived. Another common one is owners mistaking their male cats for being constipated, when really they have a urethral blockage and can’t urinate.

So I can give you a very broad list, but as a general rule if the owner really has a feeling that something is wrong, they’re better off coming into the clinic and being triaged than over the phone. Also, if the condition changes in any way, if the pet seems worse, bring them in sooner rather than later.

Reasons to come in ASAP

  • Male animal straining to urinate or attempting to toilet frequently
  • Attempting to vomit with nothing coming out
  • Active bleeding
  • Seizure lasting more than 2 minutes (if in doubt, just come in)
  • Multiple shorter seizures within last 24 hour period
  • Known or suspected toxin ingestion
  • Foreign object (eg string, corn cob) ingestion within last hour
  • Blood from anywhere
  • Bloated abdomen
  • Rapid respiratory rate
  • abnormal breathing pattern
  • cats that are open mouth panting
  • Collapse
  • Inability to walk
  • Coughing up fluid, different to vomiting
  • Acute distress
  • Found tick or known contact with venomous animal
  • Known trauma, eg hit by car

Reasons to come in the next few hours

  • Eye trauma or pain
  • Female animal straining to urinate or attempting to toilet frequently
  • Dried blood, no active bleeding
  • Vomiting food or fluid
  • Single leg lameness
  • More than one episode of diarrhea
  • The owner is unsure but thinks something is ‘not quite right’.

That list will expand the more time you spend in practice and the more cases you see. I’m sure I’ve left things off, because I don’t really work off lists in this situation. I just hear the symptom or concern explained, and go “yeah, that sounds bad. Come here now.”

You’re never wrong to come to a vet clinic sooner rather than later, so I always err on the side of caution.

As I often say, I’d rather deal with paranoia than regret any day.

Swept Off My Feet (Part 1)

Misha x Reader 

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: sudden onset of illness symptoms (reader), panic, swearing, cliffhanger? kind of?

A/N: Like I stated in previous posts, this is my first time writing Misha. Ahhh! And I’ve never been to a Con before, so if this is not exactly how they go, I apologize. I’m going to my first Con in December, and I’m suuuuuuuuper excited. Anyway, here’s this.

Swept Off My Feet Master List

 This convention was nothing like you had expected. It was your first Supernatural Convention ever, and you were so stoked. So. Fucking. Stocked. Sure, it was raining, but it was the San Francisco Bay Area, so that was nothing new. Plus, it gave you an even better reason to stay the entire day, every day.

The first day was fun, with panels and a concert. Today, you had already watched a panel and grabbed some merch from some of the booths. Your stomach was still aching from how hard you had been laughing during the panel with Misha. And now, you were headed to the autograph line.

Keep reading

I took the same medications I take every day, I had the same home-cooked breakfast this morning that I had yesterday, and I ate the same brand of protein bar I almost always eat, which has no artificial sugars in it, so why is my digestive tract betraying me. It’s done this four times in the last three months, where all of a sudden around nine in the morning I get terrible stomach cramps that last about five hours and then vanish. Currently waiting impatiently for them to vanish. 

I’d suspect a new onset of gluten sensitivity, given my family history, but if anything I’ve had markedly less wheat and wheat by-products in the past week than usual. Literally the only newish food I’ve had this week is kale, and I didn’t have kale the last three times this happened. 

Google is not much help but suggests I either have anxiety or parasites. 

I mean, I definitely have anxiety, but that’s not new

Your profile said you liked to know a person’s boundaries and then break them

See tw’s. #Mature content below. #twconsent #twgraphic #twsex

I should’ve known you’d figure out my boundaries sooner, not later
that they were more than “hard limits:”
no public; photography; no scat;
tell me what you are going to do before you do that—
and only proceed if I consent.

When you texted me to text you a compliment, I should’ve known you’d turn
my soul’s only outlet into another tool for your domination,
that you’d usurp my means of communication/every hour
making me message you about how pretty you are.

When my words dried up, and I had no praise for you left,
my creativity spent, and you stopped texting me—
I should have known not to relent
I should have known you’d wanted to abuse more than a writer’s flattery

But when you texted me that you wanted to cut me up and eat me,
how should I have known to take your desires literally?
I thought your words were terrifying and blocked you,
deleted our message history, deactivated my profile

location settings unshared, read receipts disabled, 
because the monsters were out of the closet
and they were real, and I was scared. When I ghosted you,
I should have known you’d come back to haunt me

for I’d taken a screenshot of that monstrous text,
Disgusted (and perhaps intrigued) in case it would need 
to somehow be used someday as evidence: “exhibit A.”
Your number at the screenshot’s top, remained—

What a shrewd mistake:
though I tried to purge you from the recesses of my memory,
you were pushed to all my Apple devices simultaneously.
Nothing’s lost—in trauma, every detail’s ingrained.
What we try to forget gets archived, repressed, retained.  

So three weeks later when over-worked
abused via text by mum who’d gone berserk
I went searching again
for the cannibalistic man who said he’d only been joking

and found your number easily,
atop a screenshot sub-catalogued in my iCloud Photo Library
Texting you, “I’m back.” “Sorry I was such a scaredy cat.”
You replied, had I no sense of humor? 

The truth is: I don’t. In fact, of all the genres I especially disprove of, 
the top of my list are satire, farce, and improv.
I like to laugh, but only un-ironically. 
I should have known this was not a comedy. 

So later that night at your flat when you choked me
and bruised my throat making it impossible to speak
could you have known I’d go on the next day to enter
a queer, qualifying slam at the New York LGBT Center? 

Where I wondered to myself silently:
Why do all slam poems begin without poetry?
I did not know expression could feel like High School Forensics
You who begin the slam with what you call “sacrifice:”
What poets are not sacrificial?
When did poetry become a blood sport?
As you turn poet against poet, head-to-head,
I find you cheer for those you already know
and what sounds literal, anecdotal, superficial.
When through my poem whispered the prime-time “feature,”
he should have known it would cause me to forget my words,
like the sudden-onset of atheism upon a sidewalk preacher.

My voice—he did not know the pain, what ailed me:
psychic, neurotic—but also of: how
the night before, you’d assailed me
how you threatened to impale me with a samurai sword
you’d forged yourself while you punched me 
with my own fist, while you asked me:

Who knew where i was?
Who had i told where I’d be going that night
How many friends knew i was there?
3/i cried/i lied/i told no one/because no one cared

because I’m too sick/stupid/naive/death-seeking/
lost/melancholic/anti-social/fatherless/intolerable
ashamed the only boys i meet 
are ones who must clobber me before they go to sleep

I should have known you’d try to take my voice
I should have known it was not a joke
I should have known life is not a boundary that can be broken

I should have known my wanting for my throat to be full
was a wish for words, for coherent speech:
to share, to touch—my soul’s outreach;
not for your cock, not for your fist,
I did not desire to be choked out—

but in the dizzying dizziness of trying to hold onto consciousness
wanting to vomit where there’s something that’s in it already
asphyxiating and not knowing who would save me
the words would come if I survived
and I would survive if my
words didn’t fail me;
and survive
I did.

Anne Carson writes, “Shame lies upon the eyelid”
We blind ourselves, so that we do not know
She was glossing poetic of how humanity’s Oedipal
We do not want to know, so we do not see
My eyes are open now, lids held
like the harum-scarum boys from Clockwork Orange, only it’s by myself

My neck still hurts, and lidocaine wash I hourly swish;
this thick solution: it’s a shrewd analgesic.
and it’s true, I will never return your copy of Slade House that you lent
or your daily texts, because my words for you’ve been spent.
But my voice, it’s full now, and it’s rising. 
When you tried to kill me, I should have known—
Your intent was always clear from your writing.

When I speak, it may be in a whisper,
it may not qualify me for your teams or your system,
but something’s afoot that’s of more consequence
than making people laugh at analogues and metonyms 
for my will’s been rising e’er since and can’t be forgotten
these words are for me, i write this poem
to teach myself all these things I should have known.


Your profile said you liked to know a person’s boundaries and then break them @betterinthedarkblog​​ © 2017

Arranged Marriage

Where my family comes from, arranged marriages are still very much the norm. It’s really not what most people think when they hear “arranged marriage”; it’s more like going on a blind date set up by people (usually your parents) who know you, love you, and have your best interests at heart with a very clear endgame. My parents always said that my opinion would be the only one that mattered in the end and that I could say no to whoever they brought home, no questions asked. A love match also wasn’t entirely off the table, even if it wasn’t their ideal choice for me.

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It’s Just Business (Part 2/?) (Rogers/Stark x reader)

Part 1

“Well, I have to say, this is definitely a first for me,” Steve grinned nervously, watching his hands as they slowly turned the cup of coffee around and around to give him something to focus on and to pretend to be calm.  He had started this day of his renewed life completely alone and wandering the streets of Manhattan to find his way, and now here he was with you, looking back at him with genuine interest.  “But there’s no way that I’m letting you pay me for this.  A week of dates with a pretty dame like yourself?  That’s a win for me, doll.”

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Dysphoria is Not "Trans Only"

So there has been a /lot/ of misinformation about the term dysphoria that has led to a lot of discourse as well, so I would like to clear up a few things.

To start: the word “dysphoria” alone is not trans specific, and is a medical term that predates modern trans terminology. To have dysphoria is to have a level of discomfort, anxiety, or unhappiness with a part of or all of your body, typically due to something on your body feeling “incorrect” or onset due to trauma.

People who can experience dysphoria include: people with phantom limbs (including supernumerary phantom limbs), people who have had sudden and extreme weight gain or loss, people who have lost a part of their body, kids and teens who have recently had a growth spurt (temporary dysphoria is normal with puberty, but only for up to a year or so after a change occurs), trans people*, individuals who also have dysmorphia, people with trauma related to physical incidents, etc.

* This is specifically gender dysphoria.

What trans people experience is “gender dysphoria”, a specific subset of dysphoria that typically is permanent without surgery or hrt, and is usually more intense then typical dysphoria. Gender dysphoria IS a trans specific term, and should not be used outside of describing experiences as a non-cis individual. This is not being disputed.

I also see many people claiming that what is being experienced is actually “dysmorphia” which is both extremely innacurate and a little funny (due to how innacurate it is). Dysmorphia is a serious medical condition in which one cannot hold a true image of what their body appears like, and feels their body is distorted from what it actually appears like. Dysphoria can (though not always) be a symptom of dysmorphia, but they are very different experiences and are not interchangeable.

In closing, please stop attacking people for using the term dysphoria to accurately decribe their experiences. It is a broad medical term, and is not owned by any one community.

@trans-mom @transgenderhelp

anonymous asked:

Can you do #7 please? Thanks :)

I loved writing this… Thanks, Nonnie! I hope you enjoy it! 🤗

~~~~~


Love Letter.

Jughead Jones had always been the boy that Betty Cooper had loved. Ever since a young age, she knew he was the one for her. Whenever they were together, she couldn’t ignore the sense of calm & heat that would course through her body. He made her feel safe, he made her feel like home on Christmas Eve; warm, cheerful and with not a care in the world.
But in her eyes, and her mind, Jughead Jones was unattainable, out of reach, a fantasy even.
He was Riverdale’s heartthrob.
Betty doesn’t know what it happened, but everyone loved him. The boys admired him, the girls swooned over him and the teachers hung off every spine tingling brilliant word that fell from his lips; no matter the topic.

Betty would curse herself whenever she caught herself staring and smiling in his general direction as he going about doing mundane tasks; grabbing things from his locker whilst he was laughing with his friends, taking photos for his next piece in the Blue & Gold, dissecting frogs in Biology class, reading books in the library.

Between him living next door to her with Archie, and the partnership at the Blue & Gold, Betty knew she had ample opportunities to tell him how she felt. But for someone who never had any issue putting words to paper for topics she was passionate about - finding words to articulate her feelings for Jughead was a completely different ballgame.

It was one night, after a longer than usual evening stint at the Blue and Gold with him, Betty was sitting in her room - when she had a light bulb moment, an epiphany. Betty knew exactly what she had to do.
If she wasn’t able to convey her feelings in speech, maybe she could through writing.

Betty scrambled over to her dressing table and opened a drawer to retrieve a fresh notepad and one of her trademark pink pens.
With the excitement pumping through her veins, she skipped over to bed and launched herself stomach down first.

As she opened her notepad, pink pen hot in hand, she started writing…

“Juggie,
There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you…I’m sorry, I can’t find the right words. But this is the best way I can do it.
We’ve known each other for a long, long time. From that first time you hand skimmed mine in grade three; I knew I loved you. From the time you stood up to Reggie for me when he pulled my pony tail and called me a goodie two shoes in grade six; I loved you even more, to the time I ran to your house after the first time Mum raised her hand to me in that first year of high school; I knew I was going to love you and only you for the rest of my life.
I don’t expect you to return my feelings. I would be elated if you did, obviously. Even if you’re not sure, or you’re nervous about navigating these new and uncharted waters with me. Until you’re ready, Jug, I’m happy to wait. I’ve waited 16 years for you. I’m happy to be wait another 16 years if I have to.”

Betty smiled, and wiped the single tear that fell onto the paper. Slightly smudging some of her words. She folded it up, found an envelope in her drawers and shoved it in her backpack before skipping down the stairs as she left the Cooper household.

It was only a short walk to the trailer park, but it also felt like the longest walk of her life.
She slowly climbed the few steps up to the door of the rundown trailer. After several long drawn out breathes, she gently tapped on the door and stepped down backwards, awaiting someone to open the door.

It was only a few moments later, with the breath immediately being sucked from her chest, she started at Jughead, who, judging by the look on his face, was shocked to see her.
He looked over at the clock, and looked back at her, “it’s late, Betts. What are you doing here?” He offered her a kind smile.

Her stomach fluttered and her palms felt sweaty at the nickname that he adopted for her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize what time it was. I just came around to give you a little something I’ve been working on,” she pulled off her backpack, and slowly unzipped it, pulling out the envelope, “it’s been a few years in the making.” She glanced up to see both intrigue and confusion wash over his face.

“What is it, Betts?” He met her gaze.

“Just read it, Juggie. Please? I’ll chat to you soon.” With a sudden onset of courage, she stepped up and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.
Before he had any chance to respond, Betty skipped out of the trailer park and made her way home, with her phone tightly in her hand, hoping for some kind of response.

This job is a privilege

This past week was my last week on wards as an intern. I was trudging through it, complaining about how tired I was, about all of the grunt work that had to be done, and how lazy our medical student was…

And then…

A teen presented with sudden onset altered mental status that we couldn’t explain. I sat with his mom while she cried, because she was so worried about her boy, and told her that we didn’t know what was wrong with him, but we were going to do everything we could to keep her son safe.

As much as it sometime annoys me, I need to always remember that this job is a privilege. Parents are entrusting their children to our team when they can no longer take care of their kids themselves, and I do our families a disservice when I lose sight of that.

Jakob Chychrun-PMS

hi! i was wondering if you would mind writing a Jakob Chychrun imagine where you’re on your period and you just feel really crappy but he comforts you and it’s just really sweet and cuddly? thank you in advance and happy new year!

This is a little shorter than what I would like but writing anything more felt like I was trying to force it too much.  Happy New Year to you was well.  May all your wishes come true!!!!

Originally posted by miikkakiprusoff

No…no…no..no

This isn’t happening you thought to yourself. You had plans to meet your boyfriend Jakub Chychrun at the arena after his game tonight but aunt flo obviously had other plans.  She wasn’t suppost to visit until next week however, you had recently switched birth controls and your doctor had warned you that it might come early.  She hadn’t warned you about the sudden onset of the worst cramps you had ever felt in your life.  You felt like someone had your lady bits in a vice grip and were slowly ripping them out while twisting.  In fact, it was so painful you were nauseous. With a groan, you picked up your phone to text Jakub that you wouldn’t be making it to the game tonight because there was no way you were getting up out of your bed not even to go to the store for some midal.

You must have fallen asleep because the next thing you knew the bed was dipping down beside you and something warm was being placed over your lower back right were the pain was the worst.  You turned your head towards the dip in the bed to see Jakub cuddling up to your side and sliding his arm over your back to pull you a little closer.  

“mmmm, what are you doing here?” you asked him.

“I start a week-long road trip tomorrow, remember?” he asked gently.

You had honestly forgot. “No” you answered weakly.

He laughed softly. “Think you can sit up without too much pain? I stopped to pick up some things on my way over.”

You sat up moving the bean bag to be between your lower back and the headboard of the bed.  Jakub picked up the bag from the side of the bed.  You looked over curious about what he picked up.   Out of the bag came a small bottle of midal, a box of tampons, another bean bag hot pad, and a package of reese peanut butter cups (your favorite).   You looked over at him in total surprise that he would be this thoughtful.  

“how did you…” you started.

“I have a sister, who had really bad pms” he responded.  You leaned over and gave him a solid kiss on his lips.  

He broke into a grin “im going to go heat up the bean bags, why don’t you pick out a movie and we will cuddle in bed.”

2


Words: 4,879
Sammy x Reader
Warnings: language, descriptions of disturbing imagery, blood
A/N: Thanks for your patience on this part ya’ll! Our story is progressing… the next part will reveal some important things! And yes, this one does end in a cliffhanger. MUAHAHA!

Your name: submit What is this?

Dean awoke uncharacteristically early. He’d fallen asleep with his head propped against the headboard and he had a pain in his neck to show for it. The radiating pangs were probably what had woken him. The light in the room was dim, suggesting that the sun was probably just starting to break over the horizon. The television was still on, though muted. Sam must have taken care of that after Dean had drifted off. In the flickering glow of some old black and white movie, Dean was surprised to see two figures sitting up against the headboard of the next bed. Sam leaning back, and you leaning towards him.

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As The Sun Goes Out

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 829

Warnings: None really, slight angst

A/N: Ahhh, so I haven’t written anything in a while because I have been pretty busy, but I got to see something today which inspired me to write a little something for you all. I hope you guys like it. It is a little sad but nothing crazy, and it combines two things which are pretty awesome, Dean and eclipses. 

You shivered. The light was slowly fading and you figured it was to blame for the sudden onset of chills crawling over your arms. The moments leading up to the sky darkening and the air cooling had been silent, you were out in the middle of nowhere, or at least the barren field around you made it seem that way, but now the silence was deafening. All life could have stopped right then and you wouldn’t have been surprised. 

Then you heard something behind you, it was the too loud sound of gravel crunching underneath heavy footfalls, still, as an arm slipped around your shoulders you couldn’t help but jump a little. 

“So you decided to come out after all,” you said still just gazing out at the landscape in front of you, the darkness was almost complete but there was still a faint tinge of purplish blue light hanging around the mountain scape in the distance. 

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the-fanaddict  asked:

For the whump!cup requests: AU where Hiccup gets the Scourge of Odin

At long last I’ve finished the request! Well, it only took me a couple hours to write, but I haven’t sat down and written in a while. I enjoyed doing this one a lot more than I thought I would.

Requests are closed.


Hiccup was still in shock when he and Toothless landed at the clubhouse. He put his hand to his right bicep, found a bit of blood on his palm when he pulled it back. The scratches there stung and throbbed a little, but if he’d really seen what he thought he had, that was soon going to be the least of his worries.

He breathed a heavy sigh and dismounted, put his hand over his arm again to cover the scratches. Hopefully nobody would notice.

Toothless followed him into the clubhouse, cooing softly in concern. Hiccup didn’t say anything to him to quell his worries just in case the others would overhear.

Fishlegs was the first to notice his presence. He looked up from his notebook, smiled briefly before noticing the tired and distressed look on Hiccup’s face.

“Hiccup, what’s wrong?” he asked, standing. The question brought the attention of everyone else, five heads swiveling in his direction.

Hiccup swallowed hard, now feeling uncomfortable. He could tell them what he’d seen, and he would, but the scratch would be a secret. There was no point telling them because he was already doomed. There was no cure, so there was no need to worry his friends until he was actually on his deathbed. A lump formed in his throat.

“Did you see something on patrol?” Astrid questioned urgently. “Hunters?”

“Um, well, it was a Hunter ship,” Hiccup started. He found it difficult to meet anyone’s curious gazes, so he found himself staring at the floor beneath his feet.

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Some of you that were around when I was super active on here might recall the Psychocat & Seb antics circa 2015. Whether you remember or not, it is with a heavy heart that I report that today my beloved Psychocat is no longer with us. 

After 10 years she had sudden onset kidney failure that was impacting her liver. She went from being her usual crazy self on Friday to being miserable yesterday. 

We’ll miss you, Sweet Pea. Rest in peace. Life won’t be the same without you.


@phdna @dwindlingdichotomy @onceuponardj @steverogersnotebook @colorfulcandypainter

Start of Something Promising Part 5/?

Summary: When the unimaginable nearly happens.

Word Count: 1373

Pairing: Lin x reader

Author’s note: I know I have been MIA a lot recently, but it is because a) March was a busy busy month and b) so was April and so will May. I hope to be back and writing a bit more this summer. I have been working on a story that I may share with you someday, while there are a couple other stories in the works for this fandom. Thank you to all who are following me (new and old) and ones that have been with me since I started writing. I am starting to tag people, if you would like to be tagged please let me know.

Tags: @gratitudejoyandsorrow (THANK YOU!!!) @secretschuylersister (Double thank you!) @hamwriters


His arms tightened around his wife. He didn’t want tonight to end, they had been apart for nearly six months due to his work schedule taking him all over the world and Y/N not being able to leave for longer than a weekend. They made sure to facetime, called daily and were always texting even when one was sleeping. As she sighed, a smile played across her face. He missed falling asleep to her humming his favorite songs and singing along to the Little Mermaid. He missed seeing her dance around the kitchen cooking some cookies or her attempts to actually cook. He missed the way her hair fell in her face when she laughed. He wished she could have taken a leave of absence for the year he would be in London, but she hadn’t been at her job long enough, thus the living on separate continents, an ocean apart.

He thanked his lucky stars that his sister and two best friends were there for Y/N. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he lost her. He had come too close.

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I Hear a Studio Audience At All Times, and They’re Getting Creepier

This is going to sound like a farce, but ever since I suffered a concussion last summer, I’ve been hearing a live studio audience around me 24/7. The doctors reassured me they were merely auditory hallucinations brought on by the bump to my noggin, and that they’d eventually go away on their own once my brain healed. It was actually kind of funny at first. I mean, once I got over the initial shock and fear of hearing the unsolicited reactions of a bunch of strangers. They started off more entertaining than disturbing, but that balance eventually shifted, and I’m afraid of them now.

The very first time it happened was the day I was discharged from the hospital. It was a beautiful August day, and I was psyched to finally go out in the warm sun. Eric, my boyfriend, picked me up from the hospital to take me back to our apartment. I was in high spirits, despite a persistent headache, which had followed me since the bike accident. (Kids, wear your helmets!) Eric made a joke, and suddenly, a flurry of hysterical laugher came flooding in from every corner of the car. I screamed at Eric to turn off his surround sound system, covering my ears to drown out the noise, but the laugher only got louder. I could tell by the freaked-out look in Eric’s eyes that he hadn’t been playing a practical joke on me. Once the chuckles subsided, I explained what happened. Eric turned the car around and drove me straight back to the medical facility.

A brain scan, a few blood tests, and countless hours later, the doctors assured me it was a harmless side-effect of the concussion, and not a case of sudden onset schizophrenia, as I had feared. It was perfectly normal. Well, as normal as hearing a room full of easily-entertained spectators could be. They told me to go home and rest.

It took me a few days to adjust to the auditory hallucinations, but I eventually started to see the humor in my predicament. Meetings at work were a lot more entertaining, what with the peanut gallery projecting annoyed groans whenever my boss slipped into a boring tangent. I didn’t even have to secretly roll my eyes: the voices in my head were the perfect vessel through which I could express my innermost feelings without getting in trouble. At home, my captive audience laughed at each of my jokes, even when Eric failed to react to the punch line. When I went to bed, they’d “awwww” as I wrapped my arms around Eric, and again when my cat curled up between us for warmth. The voices even became a sort of early-detection system, warning me of unseen dangers through a series of suspenseful gasps.

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