i had nothing else to do whatever

Sex Is...

Originally posted by whoeveryoulovethemost

Request: Do you think you could do one about how the reader is with Sam and Dean when they are at the chastity group and Dean describes sex?

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,200ish

Warnings: describing sex?

A/N: This wound up sweeter than I thought it’d be…


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anonymous asked:

I’m the anon who requested the rainy day kisses and you totally delivered the goods. :D Thank you!! I hope it’s okay that I send in another request because I really enjoy your scenarios. ^^ For the chocobros: post-game happy AU where everyone has a family and the bro has a heart-to-heart with their teenaged kid (for this request: a daughter for Gladio & Iggy, son for Prompto & Noct) who asked the bro about the moment they knew their s/o was ‘the one’. Thanks!

NOCTIS

Noctis walked into the training arena, watching his son warping from one end of the room to the other. He stood by the doorway, watching as Ferox panted, dropping his dagger to the ground with his hands on his knees.

“Giving up already?” Noctis called, and Ferox rose to his full height. At thirteen, he was almost as tall as his dad, stretching his back and allowing it to crack loudly before loosening up his shoulders.

“Mom said I should take combat training more seriously.”

Noctis snorted. “Sounds like something she would say.”

Ferox tried warping a few more times under his father’s supervision, but eventually gave up, collapsing in a heap on the ground with his arms and legs splayed out like a drunken starfish.

“This is too hard,” Ferox groaned, pinching his eyes shut. “I don’t get why she’s being so strict with me about this warping thing.”

Noctis came to sit down beside his son, nudging him until he sat upright. “Your mother has been through a lot in her past. She’s lost a lot of people, had to make sacrifices to save others. Warping is something that only those tied to the King’s magic can do. She knows that mastering it will keep you safe in the long run, so trust her on that.”

Ferox leaned his elbow on his knee, propping his chin up with his fist. “Is that how you met?” he asked.

Noctis shoved him lightly with his shoulder. “Maybe.” He sighed, remembering the day. “We’d met on the road one day. Magitek troopers had invaded the outpost we were visiting, and me and the guys decided to try and fight them off. But we were tired, careless. It had been a really long day. But then your mother came swooped in and basically took them all down single-handedly.”

Ferox’s mouth gaped. “Woah.”

Noctis nodded. “Yep. I knew then and there, as the dust settled, that I was in love with her.” He patted his son’s knee. “Enough resting. Wanna try again?”

“I guess I should,” Ferox conceded, rising to his feet. “Do you think Mom’ll spar with me if I ask her?”

“Hey,” Noctis teased, grabbing a pair of wooden swords from a bin. “You too good to spar with your old man?”

“You just said Mom was a better fighter,” Ferox countered, and yelped as Noctis took a playful whack at his shin.


PROMPTO

Solis was lounging on the couch, flipping through old photo albums. He had found one that was labelled with pictures from a little over twenty years ago. He blew his unruly blond hair, a feature he’d gotten from his father, out of his eyes as he opened the pages and scanned over the images.

The photos in the album were varied. Some were of scenery, some were taken during combat (Why, Dad. That’s definitely not a smart thing to do), and there were quite a few selfies that made Solis chuckle.

“Whatcha laughin’ at?” His father’s voice made him jump as Prompto sauntered into the room and plopped down next to his son.

“Just looking at old photos,” Solis shrugged, flipping to another page. “Oh, hey, look…it’s Mom.”

Solis saw his dad’s face soften as he looked at the photo of the two of you. It was one that Prompto hadn’t taken himself—it was a candid shot Noctis had snapped of you at the Vesperpool by the water. It was right around the time you’d met, and you were standing too close together to be just friends. Prompto thought back to that moment, and chuckled to himself.

“Whatcha laughin’ at?” Solis mimicked, causing Prompto to burst into a fit of giggles. Even at sixteen, Solis was the spitting image of his father. Same hair colour, same lanky build. But he had your eyes and your smile, which were Prompto’s favourite features.

“Just thinking about the moment I knew I wanted to marry your mom.”

Solis scrunched up his nose. “Dad, I don’t know if I want to hear that story.”

“Guess who’s gonna hear it anyway?” Prompto tousled Solis’ hair, much to his chagrin.

“Dad! I’m not five anymore!” he whined, but settled into the couch to listen to his father’s story. “Go on.”

“Your mom suggested one morning that we go take photos of the catoblepas,” Prompto pointed to a different photo, one that illustrated the creature. “She insisted on getting up close and personal with them. She figured it’d be better for the picture. So I’m set up with my tripod and my camera about five or six feet away, and she’s holding these mushrooms to get them to come closer.”

Prompto mimed the set up with his hands, and Solis nodded along the way.

“I was ready to take the shot, and she was posing, looking all cute. But then the catoblepas got so close. I yelled to warn her, but when she turned, she reached out her hand and pet the damn thing. And it actually nuzzled into her palm. Can you believe it?” Prompto sighed, a dreamy look in his eyes. “A legendary creature, yielding to your mother. What a lady.”

Solis turned the page of the album and found the photo of you cozying up to the catoblepas. “One thing’s for sure,” he decided. “You’re both nuts.” He paused. “But I’m glad you found each other.”


GLADIO

Gladio knocked on Acacia’s door. Having a teenage daughter was not easy, and having a teenage daughter in full mood swings was enough to want to make Gladio pull his hair out. It reminded him of Iris when she was younger.

A muffled voice rang out. “Come in.”

Gladio opened the door to his raven-haired daughter lying face down on her bed, not even attempting to greet her father as he took a seat by her desk.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Acacia peeked an eye at him. “Nothing.”

Gladio folded his arms over his chest. “Didn’t sound like nothing according to Mom.”

Acacia sat up, apparently triggered by whatever Gladio had said, irritation clear as day on her features. “She’s just so over protective!” she huffed, hands balling into fists. “I just wanted to go away for the weekend, and she won’t let me because she said she doesn’t know who else is going.”

Gladio raised an eyebrow. “Seems like a decent enough reason to say no to me.”

Acacia groaned. “Not you too.”

He smirked at her, shaking his head. “Do you know the moment I realized your mom was the one?”

She blinked slowly. “I don’t see how this is relevant to what’s happening right now.”

Gladio continued. “When I was on the road with the guys, I met her. She was definitely too good for me. Way too smart, way too pretty. And for some reason, she gave me the time of day. After what happened in Lestallum and we lost Jared, she offered to stay and take care of Iris and Talcott until we got back.”

Acacia looked at her father expectantly.

“I knew then, when she decided to put her whole life on hold to make sure that my family stayed safe, the last remaining family I had, that she was it. She cared so much about these people that she barely knew, took them in like they were her own and kept them safe while the world fell apart around them. And now she’s trying to do that for you. She lost a lot of people in the ten years of darkness, sweetheart. Try and understand that she’s being protective of you because she doesn’t want to lose you, too.”

Acacia let out a sigh, slumping her shoulders. “I guess I owe Mom and apology.”

“Guess you do.”

She nodded and rose to her feet, slowly making her way to the door.

“If you want to go camping,” Gladio offered. “I’d be more than happy to take you.”

“Thanks Dad, but no,” Acacia replied, stepping into the hallway. “I’ve got better things to do.”

Gladio rolled his eyes. Yeah, he thought to himself. Just like Iris.


IGNIS

It wasn’t often that Ignis and his daughter got to spend a great deal of time together because of his duties at the palace and her school schedule, but he relished the moments they did get to share. They often cooked together, concocting new recipes side by side.

“How come Mom doesn’t cook?” Aurora asked, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth. “Is it because she can’t?”

“She’s not extraordinarily proficient, but she gets by,” Ignis stated, and Aurora marvelled at how skilled her father was with a knife even though he was blind. “Actually, it was our first evening in together when she decided to cook for me that I realized how much I loved her.”

“Aw! Dad!” Aurora gushed. “Tell me! I love these stories.”

Ignis chuckled and kept at the chopping.

“She’d planned this whole dinner for the two of us. She knew that I enjoyed the culinary arts, and wanted to give it a go herself. I told her that it wasn’t necessary to go through all the effort, but she informed me that I’d cooked for her on multiple occasions, so it was only fair.”

Ignis smiled to himself at the memory.

“She ended up burning everything.”

Aurora couldn’t help but laugh. “Dad! Why are you smiling? That’s terrible!”

Ignis could still smell the ruined dinner, the smoke coming from the oven and the shrill sound of the fire alarm beeping in the kitchen. He remembered the sound of your laugh, the sound of you swatting a broom at the alarm to get it to shut off, as it was just out of reach.

“She took such care to ensure that everything was perfect, but in the end, the meal being ruined hadn’t phased her spirit,” Ignis continued. “She ended up pulling out two servings of Cup Noodles, and we ate them together by candlelight.”

Aurora leaned her head against her father’s shoulder. “Dad, that’s so cute.”

“It was a special moment,” Ignis agreed. “I knew then that her resilience was something to be admired. I knew her before I was blind, as just a friend, and after I sustained my injury, she refused to leave my side. She’s always been more than I deserve, and she even gifted me with you.” Ignis reached out and wrapped an arm around Aurora’s shoulders, giving her a light squeeze.

“Love you, Dad,” she smiled, giving him a peck on the cheek.

Ignis went to go stir a pot on the stove. “There is one thing you have in common with that night, come to think of it,” a mischievous lilt to his tone.

Aurora glanced over at Ignis. “Hm? What’s that?”

“Technically speaking, you were an accident as well.”

For a blind man, he was quite skilled at dodging flying spatulas.

“Worries” Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count: 1,355

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Request from Anon: Could you please write an imagine with Daryl where the reader is 19 and they’re in love but he feels insecure about the age difference between them?

Warnings: Fluff, slight smut (barely)


Originally posted by kinneyandreedus

You wake up in bed, Daryl’s bare chest pressed up against your back, heat radiating between the two of your bodies in the cold air. His arm is around you, holding you tightly as he sleeps. You smile and scoot yourself closer, happy to be in his arms.

You try to go back to sleep, but the sunlight coming through the window made that impossible. Not wanting to wake Daryl up, you try and slowly lift his arm off of you, but fail as every little movement made his body twitch- he is a light sleeper. You try and stay there as long as possible, but the need to pee eventually overruns your want to not wake him up. You try to be as gentle as possible as you squirm out of his grasp and slide out of bed.

“Don’t go.” Daryl mumbles, half asleep.

“I’ll be back, give me a minute.” You kiss his forehead. You exit the room and walk down the hallway, entering the bathroom. Something nice about Alexandria is having running water to be able to flush a toilet and brush your teeth. Personal hygiene has come to be a luxury in this world, so it was like heaven to be able to have this.

You pee and brush your teeth quickly before getting back in bed with Daryl. He immediately pulls you back into the position that you were in before you got up. You can feel his erection pushing into your back, making you laugh.

“Better get rid of that thing before you go on that run of yours today.” You teased, making Daryl groan.

“Unless ya wanna help me, I’ll just wait for it to go away on its own.”

“Mm, Daryl, if you wanted me to help out, all you had to do was ask.” You smirk, rubbing your butt up against him. He stifles a moan, grabbing your hips to guide you. “But unfortunately, I promised Rick I’d watch Judith this morning. Sorry.” You get up.

“You’re such a tease.” Daryl groans as he watches you slid your pants on.

“You love me.”

“Ya lucky that I do.” He smiles up at you. You lean down and give him a kiss before leaving and heading over to Rick’s place.

You and Daryl started dating back at the prison. You had been in their group since the start, and there had always been this thing between the two of you going unspoken. At first, he was being overly protective of you, acting more of a big brother figure than anything. You were only fifteen at the time and both of your parents had died from turning into walkers. For some reason, he felt like it was his need to protect you. He didn’t trust Shane to do it. It then turned into more of a friendship once you got to the farm, and you two could talk about anything with each other. He was your rock, and you were his.

You had turned eighteen at the prison, and you had feelings for Daryl that you didn’t think you ever would. Not to mention, Daryl was starting to see you differently as well. He finally stopped thinking of you as a little girl.

There was a lot of sexual tension between the two of you, but both of you were hesitant to make any moves. Neither of you knew exactly how the other felt and you didn’t want to risk your friendship over anything. But, one night, the two of you were sharing a cell together because you had a nightmare. The threat of the governor was all too real and that fear was leaking into your dreams. You ran into Daryl’s cell at some hour in the night and lied down next to him. He didn’t even need to ask you what wrong- he immediately knew. You were cuddled up next to him, feeling safe in his arms, and somehow that gave you the spark of confidence you needed. You pressed your lips to his, him immediately kissing you back. Ever since that night, you two had been together. You love him more than you could ever imagine.

You smile as you reminisce about your past with him, walking into Rick’s house to see Carl feeding Judith breakfast.

“Hey.” You wave, walking over to him so you could take over feeding duties.

“Thanks for watching her.” Rick came into sight. “I was going to have Carol do it but she had something to do, I don’t know.”

“It’s no problem, I don’t mind hanging out with this cutie.” You smile at Judith.

“Daryl, Glenn, Michonne, and I should be back by tonight. If we ain’t, go find Carl and tell him to watch Judith so you can come find us. We’ll just be in the next town over getting more medical supplies.” Rick grabs his gun, ready to head out the door.

“Okay, be safe. And tell Daryl that I love him.” Rick and Carl both leave the house, leaving you alone to take care of the little girl.

The day goes by rather quickly and before you know it, Rick is back at the house, relieving you of your babysitting duties.

“Be careful, Y/N, Daryl’s in a mood.” Rick warned you before you left his house.

“Why?” You frown.

“Glenn was makin’ some comments that upset him. You talk to him about it yourself.”

You walk back over to your house, and find Daryl sitting on the couch staring blankly at the wall. You open the door, taking off your shoes before you go sit next to him. He relaxes when he sees you but something is still obviously bothering him.

“What’s going on?” You ask him, putting your hand on his knee.

“I just, I don’ know, I’m gettin’ old.” He frowns.

“You’re not old, Daryl.” You laugh, not believing that he’s even upset about that.

“Old to be datin’ a nineteen year old, yeah.”

You frown at hearing this. He’s never even once voiced his concern about the age difference between the two of you. Yeah, it was a pretty big difference, but you didn’t really think it mattered. The two of you were in love, nothing else mattered.

“Age has nothing to do with anything when it comes to relationships.” You frown, making him face you. He had been avoiding looking at you the entire time.

“I don’ want you to leave me for someone younger. Someone who aint double your age. Shit, Y/N, you’re closer to Carl’s age than you are mine.”

“If this is about whatever Glenn was telling you today-“

“It’s not.” Daryl cut you off. “It’s somethin’ I been thinking about for a while.”

“Daryl,” you sigh. “I’m never going to leave you for anyone. I promise. I don’t care about the age difference between us. You make me incredibly happy, happier than anyone else could. I love you.”

“I love you too,” He smiles. You love seeing him smile, you don’t get to see it often enough. “I’m sorry for freakin’ out. Just been bothering me for a while.”

“It shouldn’t. And you should have told me sooner. I would have rather not heard that from Rick.”

“Yeah, I think Rick’s kinda annoyed at me. I yelled at Glenn for givin’ me shit.” Daryl admits.

“You gotta have known that Glenn was joking, though.”

“I did, but like I said, just been botherin’ me for a while.”

You don’t respond, you just start kissing him. He pulls you up onto his lap, putting his hands underneath your shirt as your hands grasp his hair. You start grinding your hips over his lower area, feeling it harden underneath you.

“Now, I do believe I owe you back for this morning.” You pull away from the kiss.

“Eh, maybe tomorrow.” Daryl teases.

“Oh shut up and kiss me.”


Part Two HERE

If you want to unstan...

I’ve seen many of you losing interest or more like beginning to change your stanning experience. When I first began to read things about the industry & stuff, I sort of got this discourage as well. It hurt me to know that my idols’ lives weren’t as real as I had in mind. But now, more woke than I could ever imagine, I realise… After all they’ve gone through, I admire them even more & how lucky, how truly lucky I got when these five ladies entered into my life.

They’re not robots. Yes, they’ve gone through things we would consider extremist & unrealistic but let me tell you something: We fell in love with 5 beautiful humans who grant us access to a little piece of their hearts in every interview, in every performance, in every snap story.

Just because their lives happen to be quite frenetic at times or happen to be quite hard to understand for us fans, doesn’t mean they feel any less, that they are any less normal. Well, in this latter, maybe I’m wrong… You know what? Forgot what I just said, they’re not normal, they’re exceptional.

“Not all heroes wear capes” As cliché as it may sound, it’s nothing else but the truth. The five of them have saved more lives than we could picture. They’ve helped so many souls out there (including mine) to heal whatever wounds we had, wounds crying out desperately for attention. To mend whatever broken piece we had inside, that kept on thickening the cut. They’ve been there every step of that unsteady path. Even if it’s them doing the dumbest video, while watching it you can’t fight that grin. You can’t even try, cause you know damn well won’t resist to those five goofy smiles . Camila was right, some people don’t understand one of the many meanings behind idolisation.

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plummetationzigzags  asked:

I can't remember if you've posted about this already, but your comments on Magical Girl Raising Project remind me of some criticisms I've heard of Puella Magi Madoka Magica. Was just wondering what you thought of PMMM?

I like PMMM despite itself. 

The music is great, the story is heartbreaking, the visuals are fantastic

Plus, while PMMM is in no fucking way the first grimdark magical girl series (and holy shit do I find assertions that it is so fucking uninteresting), and while 90% of what it seeks to deconstruct or subvert makes me want to tear my hair out, it does do an interesting thing with Kyubey. Like the Portal games, which take the trope of the tutorial/guide character (the exposition fairy) who gives you hints and tells you how to progress during the game and asked “What if this character wasn’t really trying to help?”, PMMM took the mascot character in magical girl shows (a la Luna and Kero) and asked the same question. And that is genuinely an interesting exploration of one of the staples of the genre. 

For the most part, though, I like, sometimes, (sometimes I hate) PMMM despite itself. And I hate what it has wrought. 

The biggest problem with PMMM is that magical girl shows are, at their heart, power fantasies for girls. They are Girl Power at their finest. In fact, Sailor Moon was an major and oft-overlooked part in kicking off the Girl Power boom in the 90s. 

And what’s infuriating about PMMM is that it tries to tear that down. It’s not like Watchmen, another series which seeks to deconstruct the possibly unhealthy nature of the power fantasies of its genre. Because Watchmen is about vigilantism and male power fantasies, and 1. white men (who make up the majority of comic book heroes) already have disproportionate power so their power fantasies are inherently more sinister and 2. comic books are often centered around revenge, vigilantism, corrupt systems that “can’t be broken”, and ignoring the law. 

Meanwhile, magical girl series are at their center about hope and love. The heroes usually literally fight with hearts and rainbows and songs. They aren’t gritty “I wish I could kick everyone’s ass” power fantasies. They are “if you believe in yourself and are your friends you can help people and achieve your dreams” fantasies. And they are for girls, who are too often told they can’t be everything they want. Not men, who are too often told they can. 

So PMMM has this message, and if some of the interviews I’ve heard from the creator are true, a completely intentional one, that girls dreams are futile and destructive and that it’s harmful and useless for girls to want things. That girls having power fantasies or seeking to save the world will ultimately destroy them, or (before Madoka’s ending) turn them into something evil and dark. That ambition is bad for girls. That girls should learn their place before they become dark witches that destroy everything, or (after Madoka’s ending) fade from existence. That girls having power fantasies is ultimately harmful, and they need to stop. That girls have been wrong this whole time to want things. That girls’ desires, no matter what they are, are always ultimately selfish and corrupt. 

And I fucking hate that. That’s not subversive. That’s our whole fucking lives. That’s what we get everywhere else. Nothing a girl does can be right. We’re bad to have ambitions and to want things. Even the “nice” things we do are dismissed with ulterior motives as soon as someone decides they’re done with us.

And I fucking hate people calling it “so profound” and whatever, when it’s ultimately torture porn and the message isn’t even deep. 

And more than that, I hate that it’s success has spawned a series of knockoffs, so that now moe torture porn grimdark magical girls has become the most common iteration of the genre. So we had the incredibly ableist (OMFG WORST SHOW EVER MADE) Yuki Yuuna is a Hero, and we’re getting the “Magical Girls have to CULL EACH OTHER in a grim CHILDREN-LED FIGHT TO THE DEATH” of Magical Girl Raising Project and like I’m so fucking done with these grown ass men making shows for other grown ass men shitting all over girls’ power fantasies and thinking that shitting all over girls’ power fantasies is something new and subversive and not a reassertion of the status quo. 

Look, I genuinely enjoyed watching PMMM. It’s a well made show, with good characters (Rebellion and everything that’s come since is AWFUL though). But I hate its message, I hate huge swaths of its fanbase, I hate its creator, and I hate that its become the new standard for magical girls. 

Magical girls were already subversive. They were already something unique and powerful. They didn’t need to be brought down. And there would be good ways to explore and subvert the genre if you wanted to*. But just going for straight “everyone’s miserable and it wouldn’t work” isn’t actually a clever. Even without the inherent sexism, it has all the depth of those creepypastas that say “What if Rugrats WAS A DYSTOPIA” or whatever, like edgy for the sake of edgy isn’t actually deep. 

*(While it’s refreshing to Western audiences that magical girls are deeply feminine, for instance, because we tend to associate being strong with being masculine or a tomboy, in Japan magical girls often serve as a reinforcement that no matter what you do you still have to adhere to gender roles. A great subversion of the genre would be one where some of the girls, and especially the main character, have more traditionally masculine powers/appearances and this is treated as just as valid a way for girls to be. Also interesting would be a magical girl series where older women become the magical girls - women struggling to hold jobs and pay rent, mothers, college kids, grandmas - because magical girls [like Disney princesses and much of media] tend to focus on pre- and newly- pubescent girl characters as the most powerful and tend to ignore older women)

Basically, enjoying magical girls has always involved some level of watching it for what you want and ignoring the less than pleasant intentions of the creator. Sailor Moon was heavily based on a series called Cutie Honey, which was made 100% to be fap material for adult male audiences, and originally the idea of this girl hero was something of a ~sexy~ joke. And then people like Naoko Takeuchi LOVED her and took empowerment from her, despite that clearly not being the intention, and created series like Sailor Moon. And I think that’s still a fine way to appreciate shows. I can watch PMMM and take power and interest from it despite its goals, like I did with the grossly fanservicey depiction of underage Magical Lyrical Nanoha when I was a kid. And I can do the same with what is likely to be the ultimately disappointing Magical Girl Raising Project. 

But I’m not happy that I have to reinterpret and reclaim these shows to get meaning out of them. I’m not happy that a genre that was supposed to be about empowering girls has been largely stolen and dismissed as unrealistic and too idealistic. I’m not happy with an entire genre’s inability to see how positivity and idealism are subversive and groundbreaking. 

And I’m not happy with PMMM for making that the status quo, or with all the fans who think things are better this way.  

My Impression Of You

A/N: So, this is my first attempt to write a Riverdale one-shot! I was inspired to write this after I listened to some music and I hope you’ll like it! Archie’s personality is something I wonder about a lot while watching Riverdale and I explore that here. Please let me know what you think about it and if you’d like to read more! xo

Plot: Your perfectly normal day gets disturbed by Archie Andrews, one of the popular kids you usually only observe from a distance. Suddenly, though, you have one of the deepest conversations of your life and maybe have to revise your opinion about him.

Originally posted by archic-andrews

It was a usual Friday afternoon when Archie Andrews decided to disturb your life. A wonderfully normal day in Riverdale like every other day, at least before Jason Blossom was murdered. You kept to yourself throughout the morning periods, as usually, ate your lunch in the sun under the big oak tree and pretty much spent the whole day thinking about how you could improve the stage design for the newest play the little drama group at your school was planning. That was your thing. Making props, painting them, working on them in peace and alone. That was what you loved most.

Only that Friday afternoon it didn’t go down like that. You sat down to continue painting the majestic tree that would be at the centre of the stage in act three, biting your lower lip, frowning and placing brush marks here and there in highest concentration. Forgetting pretty much everything around you or just blending it out because it didn’t matter in that moment. That’s why he caught you off guard when he cleared his throat to get your attention.

You twitched and turned around, staring at Archie Andrews standing there with a curious expression, grasping the strap of his backpack and wearing that blue and yellow football jacket that you never really liked. You just never got why they felt the need to wear them 24/7. Maybe to show their status, which didn’t make them appear any more sympathetic in your eyes.

“Ehm…did you lose your way?”, you asked him because nobody ever came into that room. Especially no popular kid. Never.

Archie raised his eyebrows in surprise and hurried to answer. “Oh, no, I was searching for the props department. That’s right here, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…what do you need?” You were absolutely aware of the fact that you sounded a little hostile but you couldn’t help yourself. Archie had never talked to you before. You doubted that he had even noticed you before. You only knew his voice from scraps of conversation you took up when you passed him in the hallway or, more currently, from when he was singing. He was one of the people who never really hurt others, or at least don’t attempt to do so, but also rest themselves in their social status without looking at those who surround them. At least that’s what you thought.

“Well, I thought I could do this as an extracurricular activity”, he explained, still without moving an inch. It was obvious that your reaction scared him away a little.

“But you’re in the football team”, you stated irritated.

“Yeah. So?”

“So why would you want to join the prop department? Which, by the way, consists of only me.”

“I kinda need the extra credit”, he finally admitted and you sighed to yourself. Of course. That was so typical. They thought painting cardboards was an easy way to gain credits. You actually would’ve been surprised if he had had any passion for this. Well, you didn’t really want to get upset about it because they usually never came back for a second time, so why bother?

“Alright. You can paint this tree over there, I already draw the lines and we can put it somewhere in the background. Just don’t screw up too badly”, you advised him, pointing at a prop in the corner of the room and returning to your own work. He shot you another amazed look before he pulled a chair to the cardboard, placed his backpack next to the door and sat down to start painting.

For a while you worked in silence and you tried to ignore that Archie was there, which was nearly impossible because whatever you could say about him, he definitely had some emission. While you were a person that could easily disappear in a crowd, he wasn’t. Maybe because of the red hair.

“Why are you the only one working on this?”, he asked you at some point without looking at you. It didn’t seem like the mere attempt to do smalltalk but like he was honestly interested in the answer, so you gave it.

“Because nobody gives a damn about theatre in this school”, you said, unable to hide the bitter tone in your voice. “It’s all about music. All about the Pussycats. Or people like you. And no offense, music is a form of art too, it deserves attention! But it’s really annoying that it gets so much of it and drama absolutely none.”

“Well…I don’t think it gets none…”, he mumbled with a frown.

“Really? Have you seen one play since you go to this Highschool?”, you stopped him right there, watching closely while he thought about it. Him pressing his lips together and not giving an answer was answer enough.

“Thought so. Like I said. It’s all about football, the Vixens and music.”

“And you don’t like any of that”, he mused. By now he totally forgot about painting the tree and was simply watching you closely, maybe trying to figure out where all the weirdness and bitterness came from. You were not a victim of bullying or in any way ugly. You just didn’t like those Higschool power games.

You pushed out a little laugh at his statement and shot him an amused look, meeting his warm brown eyes for the first time. “No. That’s not the point. I do like watching football games like every other person. I do like listening to the Pussycats, although it’s not necessarily my type of music. I just…I just don’t like the whole thing surrounding it, you know? All these people enjoying their popularity and the attention others, and with that I mean normal students like me, give them and not even minding to get to know our names. Like we aren’t part of the same school.”

It was confusing that he made you open up like that but it also felt good to get it off your chest. Although it probably wasn’t fair that he was the one receiving all your anger because he really wasn’t the worst of the lot by far.

Archie now looked at you with raised eyebrows. For the first time since he entered the room, a little smile played around his lips. It changed his face very positively.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N”, he suddenly said triumphantly.

You blinked at him, honestly astounded. “What?”

“Y/N. That’s your name. We have been in the same school since first grade, why wouldn’t I know your name?”

His smile widened a bit at your expression and you quickly hid behind your tree, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Although you really were surprised. You hadn’t expected that. Your paths never crossed and you never had the feeling like Archie was particularly aware of your existence.

“Okay, I’ll grant you that. Doesn’t change the bigger picture, though”, you grumbled.

He was silent for another moment and you already thought that you won and finally hushed him when he suddenly asked: “You don’t like me much, do you?” Still the question didn’t sound like he was upset or mad about your behaviour but simply curious.

You sighed once again and rolled your chair aside so you fully faced him. He was returning your gaze attentively, as if you were a particularly interesting object in a museum. You almost blushed but you were able to keep your cool and stare at him as patronizing as possible.

“Look, Archie, it’s not like that. I don’t even really know you. I simply don’t like the fact that everybody thinks people like you are perfect.”

“I’m not perfect”, he shot back automatically.

“Oh, I know.”

You realized too late that that was really offensive. You felt the heat creeping into your cheeks as his mouth dropped open and Archie looked hurt for a moment. He squinted his eyes and ran his fingers through his red hair, probably contemplating how he was supposed to react.

“What do you mean with that?”, he asked you in the end, sounding more careful and restrained than before.

You gulped down your embarrassment and searched for words that could explain what you actually meant.

“Well…I can only tell you what I observed from a distance. But in my opinion you are always really trying to do the right thing and often screw up. There is that thing with Betty. I mean, everybody in this school knows what’s been going on there and she is an absolute sweetheart but you kinda let her down the worst way possible. I am not saying that you don’t like her or respect her but you could’ve done that way more sensible. Especially since you obviously returned from this summer less boyish, whatever the reason for that is.”

Archie listened to you patiently, not interrupting you or getting angry at you which might have been a reasonable reaction to the accusations of a person that he had nothing to do with. It seemed more like he wanted to hear it, like he wondered a lot about himself but needed someone else to deliver conclusions and solutions. You felt your respect for him growing a bit because not many people were able to accept criticism like him.

“I know that I hurt Betty and I really regret that, but I didn’t do it on purpose”, he defended himself in the end, his eyes mirroring the pain he obviously felt about it.

You gave him a little understanding smile. “Of course not. Honestly, Archie, I think your problem is your insecurity. Betty was in a bad place the last few weeks, probably because of her sister or something, I’m not sure, and I gotta say that I was surprised when you weren’t really there for her. I guess you were so indulged in your music and in your fears of not being good enough in what you do. You just don’t believe enough in yourself, which is absurd regarding that everyone around you supports you. You always need people helping you, telling you that you have talent and then you engage in those far too quickly. And with that I mean Victoria and Valerie. Instead of letting them build your confidence, maybe you should learn to build it up on your own.”

You were a little bit confused yourself why you knew so much about him, so you couldn’t judge him for being even more irritated. You both totally forgot why you were here and simply sat in that room and looked at each other while Archie was processing what you just said. If he decided to simply run away now you would’ve understood. But he didn’t.

“Fair enough. I guess I have to think about it. There is one thing I don’t get, though: you seem to be interested in what’s happening around you, in the people that surround you. You even said that Betty is an absolute sweetheart, but you never returned her attempts to make conversation. So why don’t you mingle more and at least try to share your passion with others?”, he investigated, now sitting on the edge of his chair, his body tensed as if he found this dialogue quite fascinating.

It was the first time that you were on the defensive side and you immediately felt uneasy when he spoke about your persona. You were a lot better at reflecting others than yourself. You bit your lower lip and instead of keeping to look at him, your gaze returned to your half-finished tree. That made answering a little bit easier.

“Well, I guess I have to think about it.”

You missed the smirk that appeared on Archie’s face as you repeated his retort. He watched you for some time while you started to paint again, caught up in his own thoughts that you produced with your words. He didn’t have such an intense conversation for a very long time.

As the bell rang, both of you almost jumped. Man, that hour passed quickly. You were almost sorry when Archie got up from his chair and threw his backpack over his shoulder. And you were annoyed at yourself for that. But this exchange of words was the most interesting and intimate thing that happened to you in quite some time.

“This definitely turned out different than I thought but it was entertaining. I’ll see you next week”, he told you, grinning at you before he left the room. Although he didn’t look mad you were pretty sure that he wouldn’t return for another session. Little did you know that you awoke Archie’s curiosity. And little did you realize how much he awoke yours.


Escape:  the residency years

Claire returned to work.  She did rounds, ran labs, and even had a hand in a couple of surgeries, but she avoided the fourth floor at all costs.  If she had to go up, she used the stairs because she wouldn’t risk the elevator opening by accident.  She didn’t want to see the balloons, and teddy bears.  She didn’t want to hear the laughter, or the tiny cries. Not yet.  

Joe and Fiona had taken the time to fill everyone in, so there were no awkward moments.  The ones she was close to just gave her a comforting squeeze, the others, a polite yet heartfelt condolence.  No one spoke of it again after a week.  

It helped heal Jamie and Claire to be around family, so Claire began to accompany Jamie to Lallybroch for Sunday suppers again.  It was a balm to their battered souls to read to their nieces and nephews, play with them, and just wander around the estate hand in hand.    

Yet some wounds have a way of developing an infection under the skin when you least expect it.

“Oh, sure.  She’ll come for Sunday supper now.”  Jenny threw the utensils in the sink with a crash.  “I mean, why come before when yer pregnant.   Come now, after ye’ve lost the child.”  She turned on the water full force to rinse the dishes before loading the dishwasher.

“Jenny,” Ian admonished, “don’t judge.”

“Don’t judge?  Ian, listen to yerself.  She ran herself ragged!  And to what end?  Tell me!” Jenny spun around to face her husband.

And found Claire standing in the doorway to the kitchen.  


Monday afternoon Jenny presented herself at Jamie’s office with take away curry.  “Ye’ve fed me lunch every week for 20 weeks.  Figured it was time I returned the favour.”

Jamie flinched internally.  Twenty weeks.  “T’was not a favour, Janet.  Ye dinna need to do that.”  Jamie didn’t even lift his head from his desk to look at her.

Janet. Oh, yes, he was angry.  “So.  I’m Janet now, am I?  For how long?”  In true Fraser fashion she faced the conflict head on.

“Until I’m done being pissed at ye.”  Jamie set down his pencil, and leaned back in his big leather chair.  He shook his head, then raised his arm and waved her in.  She shut the door behind her.

“I’m sorry, Jamie.  Truly.”

“Dinna apologize to me, Janet.  Apologize to my wife.”  Jamie was not going to make this easy.  He loved his sister, but what she did was not easily forgiven.

“What even possessed ye?”  Jamie said, incredulous, as he made his way over to the conference table, hand outstretched for the bag of food.  

Jenny raised her chin.  “I was angry.  Angry at the situation, and if I’m honest, angry at Claire for going to France when ye didna want her to, for doing too much, and risking the baby.”

Jamie sighed, exasperated.  “I explained this to ye.  I told ye on the phone from Paris, and I told ye when we got back home here.  There was nothing anyone could do.  Not Claire.  Not a doctor. No one.  And frankly, Janet, thinking a weekly Sunday dinner would have made a difference is madness.”

“It’s not just ‘Sunday dinner’ Jamie.  It’s our family tradition!”  She sat down hard in her chair.

Jamie stopped unpacking the food and leveled a look at his sister.  “No, it’s yer tradition. Ye started it after Da died.  That was yer choice.  I came because I had nothing else to do.  And if ye remember, when Claire and I first got together, I missed a few dinners. So, whatever that was yesterday,” he waved his hand in the air, “that lashing out at Claire, it wasna fair.”  He walked over to his small refrigerator, and pulled out two waters.  

Jenny sat and absorbed what her brother just revealed.  The dinners were a means to an end.  She needed something to keep them together after yet another family death.  Jamie, and Ian needed to heal together after the accident. Somewhere along the way she’d lost sight of what she was actually trying to do.

“Maybe,” Jenny hesitated. “Maybe I just wanted her around more, to share pregnancy stories, and build a kinship with.  I never see her anymore.”  

“Ye’ve a funny way of building a kinship.”  Jamie pulled out his chair, and sat down.  “Would ye begrudge my wife her dream?  Hmmm?”  Jamie took a bite of his food.  

Jenny said nothing.  She poked around in her container for a moment.  Then, looked at her brother.

Jamie raised an eyebrow.  “What if it were wee Kitty, wantin’ to be a doctor? Would ye tell her no because it might take away from her family for a time? What if Maggie went back to school at the same time she was pregnant, wantin’ a career and a family?  Would ye turn yer venom on her?”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, Jamie!  Venom, indeed.”

Jamie set down his fork, and wiped his mouth. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Did ye ever think, Janet, that in all the ways it matters to a woman, ye’ve had it easier than she has?  Do ye ever think, period?”

“What does that mean?”  Jenny’s voice rose in indignation.

“Ye grew up on an estate, with parents who loved ye.  She lost her parents at five years old.  Dammit, she canna even remember her mother!”  He leaned forward to make his point, “Ye had siblings, she grew up alone.  Ye were given a place in the family business, and she’s still trying to find her place in the world.  Ye’ve had bairn after bairn, no problem at all.  And Claire and I,” he swallowed, hands braced on the edge of the table, “Claire and I canna manage to have one in our four years together.”

Jamie looked hard at his sister, voice controlled but quivering.  “I’ll never forget what Claire said after they took Faith away. She said, we didna just lose a child. We lost a lifetime with someone we’d never even met.”

Jenny reached across the table and laid a hand on her brother, squeezing his forearm.  

“I am sorry, Jamie.”  

Jamie covered his sister’s hand with his own.  “I keep tellin’ ye.  It’s no’ me ye need to apologize to.”


Claire walked out the front doors of the hospital hearing the swish of the large glass panes close behind her.  She heard a sharp whistle off to her left, and turned her head.

“Alec!”  She strode over to the black Range Rover happy to see the man who was both friend and protector.  He came around the back of the car, accepted her kiss on his cheek, and opened the back door for her.

“What’s this?” Claire asked.  “Where’s Jamie tonight?”  

Alec just inclined his head towards the interior of the vehicle.  Thinking Jamie was inside, Claire grinned and poked her head inside.

“Hello, Claire.”  

Jenny.  

Claire cut her eyes to Alec.  He stood stoic, looking over her head. “Coward,” she whispered.

“Aye,” he whispered back.  

Claire shoved her bag at him, hard, making him grunt in the process, and climbed inside.


They tucked into a pizza, both using the distraction of food to break the tension.  Two pints later the surface chatter was abandoned.

Jenny took a long swallow of her beer, fortifying herself.  “I’m very sorry for what I said, Claire.  I didna mean a word of it.”  Jenny looked her sister-in-law in the eye, hoping Claire saw her sincerity.

Claire returned the solemn gaze.  “That’s the problem, Jenny.  I think you did.”

Jenny’s eyes glistened. It seemed she would have to open up to Claire as she did to Jamie.  She took a deep breath. “A small part of me blamed ye for the miscarriage.  When Jamie told me what happened I thought ye must have done something to bring it upon yerself.  Worked too hard, not thinking of the consequences.  And then I thought, if I had made ye come to Sunday suppers so I could get ye off yer feet a bit, it may have made a difference.”  

Claire sat still, hands in her lap, letting Jenny work through her feelings.  The noise of the pub surrounded them with soft chatter, the clink of glasses, knives and forks hitting plates.  If there was one thing Claire learned as a doctor, it was to listen to patients.  

“I think,” Jenny continued honestly, “I think a small part of me is wanting to replace what I lost.  A brother, mother, father.  I want a big family, and perhaps that’s why.  When Jamie married ye, I was thrilled to have a sister.”  She wiped at her nose.  “Never had one of those,” she chuckled.  She was relieved to see Claire’s small smile.  “And I know my brother wants bairns.  I want them for him.  And for you,” she added hastily.  “So. So when Faith was lost, I got angry. Angry at the both of ye, but maybe mostly angry at God for taking yet another one of my family members away.”  

Jenny wiped her eyes, and looked at the woman who was sister and friend to her. “But since my parents always told me it was a sin to be angry at God, I got angry at you instead.”

Claire reached across the table to took both of Jenny’s hands in her own, and squeezed them tightly.  

“I am very sorry for what I said, Claire.  I didna mean a word of it.”

“I accept your apology, Jenny.”  The women gazed at each other in silent understanding.  They, just like Ian and Jamie, would have each other’s backs from this point forward.  

“Now,” Claire said, letting go of Jenny and lifting her glass, “Let’s get drunk.”


He heard her well before she arrived at the door. He heard her stumble and the backpack skitter down the stairs. “Fuck!”  

He opened the door to their flat and peered over the banister.  She was trying to turn around to go back down.  

“Leave it, mo graidh!  I’ll get it.”  He stepped quickly down the stairs, passing his wife in the process.  “Christ, Sassenach, ye smell like a brewery.”  He grabbed the bag, then strode up the stairs and tucked an arm around Claire, leading her up to their flat.  “Had a good time wi’ Jenny, then?”

“Oh, aye,” Claire said.  Jamie laughed loudly.  Aye?  She was completely sozzled.

He escorted her slowly up the stairs, catching her every slip.  Claire kept up a slurring commentary of her and Jenny’s evening.  When he finally got her in the flat, she turned and wrapped her arms around his waist.  

“You’re half naked,” she said, eyes unfocused. She leaned forward and kissed the middle of his chest.

“I’m ready for bed, that’s why.”  He breathed deeply.  “And you,” he said, pushing her away from him, “need a shower.”

“Too tired.  Too drunk.”  She smiled up at him, “But maybe if you helped me?  Washed my back?”  

Jamie smiled.  Vixen.  “It’s not been six weeks yet, Claire.”  

He locked the door, flipped off the light switch, and bustled his wife off to the bathroom.

But only two more weeks to go.  Not that I’m counting.

A Wild Night in Vegas -- Part 13

Here’s the next installment! This is a new record for myself and @outlandishchridhe - 14 PAGES!! I’ll put it below a cut so it doesn’t take up vast amounts of space on all your dashes. If it doesn’t work, as always, let me know and I’ll see if I can get it to you somehow. 

We always have so much fun writing this story and adore all the comments we get from you guys. Writing this is always a source of peace and rest from our hectic lives. Thanks for following along with us in this crazy journey!

Part 12


Fraser Bairn Watch: Month 7

“Miss Beauchamp? A word please?”

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I need you

Originally posted by effindivergenteric


Prompt 8: Eric Coulter
“I think that you’re not as dark as you want people to believe.”
“Are you sure that isn’t just wishful thinking.”

Notes-

y/n your name

tagging- @wynterrobin

I have no idea why I’m so intrigued with Eric from Divergent. 


Eric gazed down at the sleeping girl in his arms, he shifted pulling her closer while she sighed curling into him. How she dealt with him, he would never know but for whatever reason he was thankful. He brought his hand up, stroking her cheek frowning at the scar that marred her cheek.

“You frown too much,” He blinked, focusing on her sleepy eyes and the small grin. “You’re going to have frown lines.”

She moved impossibly closer to him, laying her head on his chest. “Why don’t you take them away from me,” His hand trailed down, her spine suggestively.

“Perv,” Her laugh sounding like bells to his ears.

“But you still put up with me,” He moved so that he was hovering above her. “Why?” He smirked grinning down at her, loving the way her hair was sprawled out across the pillows.

She grinned putting her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her. She pulled him into a searing kiss, biting his lip before pulling away leaving him wanting more. “I think that you’re not as dark as you want people to believe.” She gazed up at him, stroking his cheek with her thumbs.

He rolled his eyes, growling out, “Are you sure that isn’t just wishful thinking?” She moved sitting up, holding the sheet to cover her glancing around his room. “Where are you going?”

“Home,” She replied, trying to move away from him, but he blocked her from moving. “It’s just sex right?” She grinned at him, trying to leave again but he refused to move.

He glared at her grin, pushing her back down on the bed. She laughed, while he hovered over her again. “You’re a pain in my ass, who do you think you are?”

“Just one of the many girls you slept with. But I suppose I should learn my place right?” She smirked, rolling out from under him, grabbing her shirt and pants pulling them on while he stared at her. “What I said isn’t wishful thinking, because beneath all of that anger and intimidation is the guy that for some unforeseen reason makes me crazy.” She sighed, pulling on her boots leaving her shirt unbuttoned so he could see the black bra and the tattoo he liked tracing at night. “Wishful thinking Eric, is believing that this is more than sex. But I can’t do it anymore, so whatever this is… it’s over. We will only need to see each other to do our duties as leaders but nothing else.”

Eric watched her stand and hover at the door as if she was waiting for him to stop her. “Lock the door on your way out.” He saw her grin slightly before she closed the door with a quiet click.


Eric’s eyes found her form, sitting next to the guy he hated the most. He watched her wave her arms around excitedly, making Four smile at her. It had been three weeks since she left, and she hadn’t bothered to make any contact with him. The more he watched her interact with Four, the more angry he got. He got up striding over to the two.

“I know this is weird, but I sometimes miss the pea pods and the chicken,” Eric heard the longing in her voice.

“Well if it isn’t two stiffs missing home, can’t cut it here anymore,” He growled out, while she glanced up at him with bored eyes.

“Two stiffs that can still kick your ass,” Eric glared over at Four, while she let out a small laugh.

“What do you need Coulter?” She murmured with the grin still on her face. She stabbed her vegtables, “Never mind that, I don’t have time for whatever you want. Four, remember I’ll be in the training room to help you and Lauren will go with the dauntless born today.”

“Of course, maybe you can kick their asses into shape,” Eric watched Four grin up at her, before she got up leaving the table. He sent one last glare towards the man before following after her.

“Y/N, we aren’t done yet,” He called out, jogging slightly grasping her forearm.

She pushed his hand off of her, yawning slightly. “Shoot then, quickly because I have things I have to get done.”

“I need you,” Eric clenched his fists, looking down at her.

Her eyes flashed dangerously, before she pushed him sending her fist flying towards his face. He blocked it, pushing the struggling girl against the wall. “Find another fuck buddy Eric.” He watched her struggle against him. “You’re an asshole.”

“Oh I’m an asshole.” He chuckled darkly hauling her over his shoulder, while others passed them looking at the feared leader and the other leader pounding on his back screaming obscenities at him. Once he was at the destination he wanted, he set her down avoiding her fists. “Knock it off… I didn’t mean I need you as just for sex.”

She rolled her eyes at him, before moving away looking around. “Right, let’s say I believe you then. What did you mean?”

He ran his hands across his face, finding it extremely hard to just spit out what he wanted to say. “I miss you. Not just the sex, I mean all of it.” She raised an eyebrow at him, before leaning against the wall. He sighed deeply, she was going to make him work for it. “I miss holding you in my arms. I miss tracing the scar on your cheek or the tattoo on your side. I miss you curling into me and feeling your warm skin under my hands. I miss waking up because your stupid hair was in my face.”

He watched her grin slightly before she turned so that her back was to him. He could see her expression in the mirror and he smirked while coming up behind her pulling her into him. “Still think what I said was wishful thinking?” She turned putting her arms over his shoulders, a smirk on her face.

His eyes narrowed at her, everything clicking into place. “You little shit. You did all of this to prove a point?” She laughed, jumping so she could wrap her legs around him.

“It got you to prove yourself wrong didn’t it? You’re not as dark as you want people to believe, but the thing is I’ll be the only one that knows it,” She kissed his cheek, trying to get out of his hold.

“So you missed out on sex, just to prove a point,” He pushed her against the wall effectively trapping her. “You deprived me of sex, to do so?”

She grinned cheekily, before tapping his cheek. “Guess so, and it looks like you’ll be deprived a little big longer, because I have to get back to work.”

Eric watched her before he set her down, leaning down to nip at her ear. “You’re going to regret that.”

“I can’t wait for the punishment then,” She winked before, she walked off purposefully swishing her hips.

L.A & Blankets.

Authors Note: I don’t even know where I was leading with, but here is a short little prompt.

Based on #40  "You’re a blanket hog,“ from the OPT Drabble Challenge — Found HERE

You can find my Blurbs HERE

To Enter to win tickets for Harry Styles IN Nashville TN, HERE



Your wrap your arms around you as your eyes witness the snow forming a white blanket over the backyard, the lights beginning to flicker, instantly causing your attention.

You look over towards Harry taking up the whole couch, sprawled out on his back, the thickest blanket draped over him, his eyes glued to the television. “Fuck, no— damn it.” He huffs as the signal becomes insufficient, disturbing some sporting thing he has been waiting to watch, he has been more excited about the damn game than anything else.

You sigh as the power goes out, Harry huffing the moment the television turns black. “Damn weather.” He continues to mumble, bitter with the fact he can’t conclude the game. He forces himself off the couch, finally taking notice of you and wandering over to you,

“Ah, you finally remembered me.” You comment, rubbing your hands over your arms, the coldness already getting to you.

He rolls his eyes at you before shrugging, “Yeh know I love you.”

“Mhm. It is fucking freezing.” You pout your lips, shuffling closer to him and burying yourself into him. He wraps his arms around you, empowering you to indulge in his body warmth, managing to hum a sweet tune as you stay embraced within his loving arms.

“You know.. Ye’ wouldn’t be cold if we had of moved to L.A.” He comments, forcing a groan to leave your lips as you break the embrace, stepping away from him. “What?” He shrugs his shoulders back, “Just stating the obvious. Not nearly as cold over there.” He presses, furthermore determined that migrating to Las Angeles is a valid thing for the two of you — mainly for him if he is being honest.

You sigh as you glance into his eyes, shaking your head at him, “You said you would stop bringing up.” You cross your arms over your chest, a little annoyed that he keeps bringing it up.

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First Words-Anidala 2017 Happy Skywalker Family AU

Leia had always been more vocal than her brother, babbling cheerfully at her parents while they held her and ready to scream the standard second she didn’t get her way.

She wasn’t even a year old before she said her first word–”Daddy". Padme wasn’t sure she had felt such a range of emotions when elected queen. She and Anakin were beside themselves, crying and laughing while Leia grinned up at her gushing parents and repeated the newly discovered word over and over.

Luke, on the other hand, was happy to quietly observe and let his sister claim the spotlight, most of the time. He babbled to his parents on occasion and enjoyed pointing at anything that interested him, but at a year and a half Luke had yet to utter even one intelligible word while Leia was beginning to form simple sentences.

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The Pluto Administration and how things went down.

I don’t know if anyone will see this who it will change any opinions for but I have been involved with the Pluto Administration since @promptguy​ put up the post for AI’s.


I thought it would be fun and it was. I got to play with Photoshop and PG was trying to create something beautiful and collaborative. Within days Charon appeared. I didn’t really pay them any mind because I knew they weren’t part of the plot. PG reached out asked them if they wanted to be involved and they said they didn’t but that they would stay out of it, he then asked us to ignore them, let them be. 


Everything was fine when people payed attention to this advice. When people did what they were supposed to do it was all cool but soon the problems started. There were too many people involved who had time on their hands and expected PG to be able to accessible at all times. When he wasn’t (as people are wont to be) they decided to act on their own. I don’t know who exactly did what but I do know that people decided it was okay for them to attack because “Charon was the one getting too involved”. This was the day before yesterday.

Last night before Charon even posted PG stepped down because he didn’t feel he had the time. He had stopped being involved for at least an hour before Ahfairehnuff went offline.

Now in case this is your first meeting with me, I’m Irish. I live in Scotland at the moment. Ireland has a terrible problem with suicide. I personally have lost people. I know that I couldn’t stand by while this all happened. So I started to try and find Ahfairehnuff. To the point where I had a breakdown last night because I was afraid I couldn’t help them. I didn’t sleep. This morning I finally was able to contact somewhere that could contact her. I did not do this lightly. Not only would it be bringing a member of staff into something that could easily distress anyone, but it also means making her feel watched, but the risk of the greater evil was too much. I couldn’t sit by and not do it. After that the lady who was super distressed by this as well called me back to let me know she was okay. 

All this time PG was talking to me too and he was terrified that what Charon was saying was true. People who joined an idea he had decided to cause trouble and he was the one carrying the burden. People blame him for what happened but he simply had the idea. You cannot control others and you cannot predict what you cannot expect.

As well as this, PG then showed me that Charon and Ahfairehnuff both had the same IP. I cannot explain how angry I was when I learned this. They had put prompt guy through hell in the last 24 hours and they were all the same person?

Do no blame prompt guy for this serious of events. He did nothing wrong. There was literally nothing more he could have done once this all started. I don’t know what cause Charon to do all this but I do hope that whatever it is they get help, but above all I hope that they do NOT cause this kind of distress to anyone else again.


“i think you’re afraid to be happy”

pairing: lin x reader

prompt: spin off of Can You Imagine in which Lin goes to college and the reader meets him again three years later

warnings: lil angsty (lol what’s new), swearing, drinking, fluff

words: 2,576

a/n: i liked writing this. lots of love for @imdedicatingeverydaytoyou for helping me on this. okay ily enjoy goodnight xo



The rest of junior year was amazing. Lin was by your side and you had never felt more confident in your life. He made you feel proud of who you were, it was more than you could imagine. Still, you knew it was coming to an end. You knew that in just over a week, Lin would be leaving for early registration at Wesleyan University, and two months later, you would be back in Hunters College High School for another year. But if there was one thing you knew, it was that you couldn’t hold him back. Not after everything he had helped you become, especially then. That being said, you knew you would have to break up. 

You were letting yourself wallow for a moment longer, before you were put out of your thoughts to see your boyfriend - you loved saying that - standing there, a bouquet of Gerber daisies in his hands.

“Lin,” you gushed as he handed you the flowers.

“Happy eight months,” he laughed a little. A smile graced your lips as you leaned forward to kiss him (something the two of you did rather frequently after the play). Lin met your lips before pulling back, a thought already on his tongue.

“I wanted to ask if you want to come over for dinner on Sunday? My mom is inviting a bunch of family as a going away thing and I want you to be there,” He said. His eyes were light today, like the late June sun was shining through him. You ignored the small break you felt in your heart, and rather nodded.

“Yeah, what’s your mom making?” 

Lin shrugged, taking your freed hand as you put the daisies in your locker, “Probably tacos or something that everyone will eat.”

You turned to him, slowing your pace, “You know I’m so proud of you, right?” A small smile formed on Lin’s lips, nodding slightly.

“I know,” he said as he started walking towards his last ever homeroom.


The next week with Lin seemed to be on fast forward - like you were missing small moments with him; like the world was traveling too quickly for you to catch up. 

When Sunday came around, Lin’s mother greeted you with a giant hug, only to be pushed away by his father. You laughed as Lin grumbled something like, “she’s my girlfriend, guys.” 

Tonight was the night. You had thought about doing it a few days before, but knew couldn’t bring your heart to say the words. He knew, didn’t he? That he wasn’t taking you to college? That he deserved to go and have fun and live his dream?

You pushed down your emotions, hugging Lin tighter than usual. 

Dinner was delicious, not that you were surprised. Even after, however, the house was noisy: cousins running, uncles drinking, mothers laughing. Regardless, all you could focus on was Lin. When you were with him, he had this effect on people, where he would make it seem like you were the most important person in the world. And tonight, it was wonderful to see everyone else doing it for him.

You were sitting on the couch talking to his sister when Lin excused himself and dragged you with him.

It was dark by now. Lin had taken you out back where a small porch swing sat. Pulling you down next to him, he wrapped his arms around you. You sighed, savoring this moment with him, knowing it would probably be the last.

He put soft kisses on your temples, smiling when he saw you start to blush.

“I miss you already,” he said into your hair. 

You let out a sigh, “You’re going to have so much fun and do amazing things and I cannot wait to - “ You couldn’t keep going. You couldn’t tell him how you wanted to be a part of his life and hear about his adventures and God forbid, still love him.

“Y/N?” He asked, his voice laced with concern. You only shook your head.

“I’ll miss you too,” you sighed.

Lin tightened his grip slightly, “The way you’re talking, it sounds like this conversation is going to end is goodbye.”

You didn’t respond, knowing that if you did, your voice would break. 

“This isn’t going to end in goodbye, right?” 

Silence. You felt the tears pool in your eyes.

“Right?” 

You detangled yourself from his arms so that you could look at him. The way he looked, he practically had his heart on his sleeve and you might as well had been stepping on it. 

“I’m not going to college with you,” you said softly. “I’m not going to hold you back.”

“Who says you’ll hold me -”

“I do. And I know you won’t admit it but I think you do too.” Lin looked broken. God, you sucked. You sucked really bad. You wanted nothing more than to kiss the pain out of him and make him smile again.

His eyes were searching your face for something you didn’t know.

“I should go,” you whispered, starting to stand. 

“Wait,” Lin said, grabbing your hand and pulling you back to the swing. “Stay. For me.”

“Lin -”

“Just for a little. Please,” he whispered, his voice cracking. 

So you did. The two of you together. He held you. And that was enough.

Lin left for college the next morning. You watched him drive off with his mom, hugging her tightly as she started to cry. 

And God, it hurt.


three years later

You had done well. You graduated third in your class with a full ride to NYU. You tried not to think of Lin. Every once in a while you would receive a text about a show he would be in or on holidays, but it was… good. The both of you took your time and distanced yourself from the pain.

You especially. You dated, but nothing serious. Not that there was anyone you’d want to be serious with - it was mostly just flings and hookups. Sometimes you questioned if it was okay; living life so differently from that of high school. But wasn’t that what college was about? Then again, maybe it was because you didn’t want to feel like that again. You didn’t want to feel so damn helpless.

You were on your way home from college and filling the two hour drive with an old playlist you had found. When you got stuck in traffic, you looked down at your phone to see what the playlist was. In bold letters, you saw: I love you (Playlist). Lin had made this one for you after about four months of dating. It was really cheesy but nonetheless had awesome music. So you kept it on.

It was two days until Christmas when your mom forced you along to the Smith’s Ugly Sweater party. You tugged your grandmothers sweater on before following your mother out of the house.

The party was sweet. Everyone loved asking about your major and how sophomore year was going. Especially the elderly. They could talk. You thought you might never escape when a someone bumped into you, nearly spilling your drink. A pair of hands flushed to your hips to steady you, apologizing profusely.

Lin.

You gasped slightly, looking him up and down before throwing your arms around his neck. He stiffened for a second, but instantly melted into the hug. You could feel his smile. After a moment - probably one too many - you let go and smiled.

“Hi.”

You weren’t expecting to be so comfortable talking to him. You thought it would be awkward and thick and tense but Lin made you feel the same way he always did: important, comfortable, loved. 

You told him about school and he told you about the play he was writing. 

“What’s it called?”

“To be determined,” he laughed. Gosh, you missed that laugh. As if reading your mind, Lin said, “I’ve missed you.”

You grinned, feeling a blush paint your cheeks.

“Do you want to get a cup of coffee sometime?” He asked, half a smile on his lips.

You opened your mouth to say yes, but nothing came out. It was like the three years before had flashed in front of you and all you could remember was the hurt. Not your own hurt so much as the one in his eyes the night you said goodbye.

So you sighed and shook your head, “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you said, trying to sound mature and not like a high school girl embarrassed about her ex boyfriend.

Lin’s brows furrowed, “It’s been three years, Y/N. We can get coffee.”

You nodded, “I know, but…” your voice failed you again. Lin’s bright eyes had gone darker, he looked frustrated.

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. You shot him a look to which he immediately fought, “You know what? Whatever. But don’t forget - you broke up with me.”

“Lin! That has -” you paused, realizing your now raised voice, “That has nothing to do with it.”

“Really, Y/N? Then why else?” He crossed his arms over his ugly snowman sweater, scowling at your inability to form a response.

“I’m not doing this.” You finally said, pushing past him to leave.


Your breakup wasn’t messy. So why now? Why three years later was it suddenly tearing your heart in two again? Why now?

You had formed a text to Lin to apologize, but deleted it quickly, far too stubborn to take the first step. Unfortunately for you, Lin was the same exact way. He had always been too proud to back down first. Still, Lin was in the same spot - clutching his chest, scared that his heart would literally fall out at the drop of a pin. 

You didn’t see him again until New Years Eve. It was nearly midnight and you were at a party some friends you graduated with had thrown. You were grinding against some boy, a cup of booze in your hand. You were a little more than tipsy, but that didn’t stop anything from coming back the second Lin walked in the door.

You immediately pried the boy’s arms off your waist, sauntering over towards Lin.

“What are you doing here?” You nearly shouted. You blamed it on the music being too loud, but you knew it was mostly because you were angry.

“It’s a party. i was invited. The world doesn’t revolve around you, Y/N.” He scoffed, moving past you with ease and popping a beer without looking back.

You sighed. God, why couldn’t you just be angry with him? Why did everything he say - no matter how pissy it was - have you in a puddle?

The night continued, Lin up against a red head when the clock struck midnight, kissing her with a passion you faintly remembered.

You tried to push it down. You tried to ignore it, but the second you felt the tears prick, you were out. You practically ran to the roof of the apartment, ready to scream or yell or just be alone. Anything to get you away from that. Anything to get you away from him.

Lin saw you leave, pushing the ginger away and immediately following you up the stairs. God forbid something were to happen to you, or someone took advantage of you, or anything - Lin couldn’t live with himself if he knew he could’ve stopped it. 

He saw you walk towards the railing, pausing before screaming so loud he jumped. He could hear you crystal clear despite the dozens of parties running through the city.

He waiting a second more before walking towards you. You were sitting on a bench, your head in your hands with your hair falling all over the place.

“Y/N?” He asked tentatively.

“I just want to be alone,” you tried, your voice breaking at the end.

Lin ignored this, taking a step closer, “Is everything alright?” 

Your head snapped up, realizing it was him speaking. You looked at him for a second before squeezing your eyes shut. He wasn’t going to see you cry.

You forced a smile on your face, “Yeah, just needed some air.” 

Disregarding this, he took a final step towards you, “What’s going on?”

“We were good, right?” You mindlessly blurted out. Before you could stop yourself, you added, “Like, I know ‘high school love’ isn’t supposed to last, but we were good… right?”

Lin’s face hardened again, “Not supposed to last?”

“That’s not what - “

“No, I think it is what you meant, Y/N. I think that you knew I was a temporary toy for you.” He was getting angry.

“Well, no! Lin, that’s not - ugh! Just… relationships aren’t worth it. We clearly didn’t work so I don’t know what -”

“You know what I think?”

You rolled your eyes at his interruption, “Oh please, Lin. Tell me what you think. Because obviously my life depends on your opinion,” you sneered.

Lin rolled his eyes, “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m ridiculous? You can’t have a conversation without freaking out on me!” You were standing now, the pair of you screaming at one another.

Lin ran a hand through his hair, “This is exhausting! I  - ugh!” He was pacing. Then he stopped, pointing at you and walking quickly closer, “I think that you’re afraid to be happy. I think,” he was searching for the right words, “I think that you’re so, so damn proud that you can’t accept the fact that someone - that anyone - could love you.” He was gesturing mindlessly, hoping to make sense.

You stood there, “You have no idea what I think.”

“No, I think I do,” he shot back quickly. “I think that you refuse to let yourself love again because you’re terrified of -” he took a breath, his voice softer, “Of losing someone again.”

You didn’t stop the angry tears from running down your face, “You don’t know what you’re talking about -”

“God, Y/N! I, dammit! Yes, I do. Because I’m fucking in love with you and all you can do - God! - all you can do is say no.”

You clenched your teeth and shook your head, the tears falling freely, “I refuse to let myself feel like that again. I won’t do it. I won’t hurt you again. Because, God - I can’t. I can’t do it again,” you snapped through clenched teeth. 

Lin looked at you for a beat. His face looked the same way he did when you said goodbye. This time, however, his eyes had a fire in them. And that fire fueled you the second he rushed forward, pressing his lips to yours. Your hands instinctively fled the back of his neck, pulling him flush again you. His hands grubbed your waist so tight your dress bunched. His lips moved smoothly against yours, confident that he had made the right decision. One of his hands left your hips and grazed your cheek. He was wiping your tears away. Pulling back gently, breathing ragged, Lin squeezed his eyes shut. His hand was cool against your hot tears, wiping them gently.

“I’m so in love with you. And I’m sorry if you can’t accept that or don’t love me back or -” he was rambling. You quickly silenced him by pressing your mouth to his, burying yourself in his warmth.

“Who said I ever stopped?”

Part 1 - Down the Voltage Rabbit Hole

Lately it seems that everything I write ends up never seeing the light of day so I wanted to write something fun, that might actually get read. If you guys like it I’ll continue the story. 

Let me know what you think!


I woke up, eyes bleary, head pounding in a hospital bed I’d never been in, but could have sworn I’d seen before. As I rubbed my eyes, I racked my brain to try and remember how I’d gotten here, but could only come up with fragmented moments on the subway platform. It was a fair assumption to say that I’d passed out. Something like that had happened to me once before, and upon coming to had left me feeling very similar.

“It’s good to see you’re up.”

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“Damn it, Keith..”

My pinning Lance au for valentines day! 

I have this au where its valentines day and Lance and Keith made plans to go see a movie and whatever since they had nothing else to do and Lance gets all excited and trims his hair, wears his favorite cologne, gets all spicy and dressed up because it was the night lance would finally ask out Keith. But, at the last minuet Keith cancels because he decided to go on a movie date with Allura instead of Lance but says they can catch a movie another day. Not wanting to ruin their frienship, Lance doesnt say anything and wishes them good luck on their date because Keith’s happiness is greater than his own and ther friendship is worth too much. it’s too important.  



also i posted this a day early bc i was too excited not to share oops

The Season Finale/Bye, Boys

I know I’m late - I had to work all day yesterday and today, and when I first got those jobs I’d anticipated I’d be frustrated about missing the finale live, but, well - after last week’s episode, I mostly wasn’t interested at all. When I sat down tonight to watch it, I almost didn’t want to. I was highkey convinced I wouldn’t like it, and, yeah, I didn’t. Not particularly. I’ve suspected for a while that Supernatural lost its grandeur and sense of tragedy years ago, and all that’s left is a bunch of occasionally magnificent, but mostly unconnected, monster hunts - that they’re grasping at straws to avoid going down paths that would actually make sense because they don’t want to go there - and this finale confirmed all that with the subtlety of a badly driven tank. 

(Really - I was hoping things would be different, but they’re not. As much as this show held my hand and made me laugh and cry in difficult moments and distracted me when real life was plain unbearable, the magic is no longer there. I watched the finale with that same awful weight in your stomach you feel when faced with that one person you no longer love - when you look and look and you don’t understand how you could ever love them in the first place, and then your eye catches something - they way their mouth curves into a smile, perhaps, or the once beloved lilt in their voice, and you realize that oh, that’s how

But still, it’s over.)

So, what happens next?

The honest answer is, I don’t know. I’ve been mostly off tumblr for a week, and while I missed chatting and talking with you guys, this self-imposed break really brought home just how my world has shrunk. I tend to be very intense in what I like, and over the last year, 90% of my free time has been Supernatural. Writing stories, writing metas, creating the odd graphic, reblogging other people’s posts and ooohing and aaaawing at their creations and insight - that was great, but it also cut my mental landscape into a tiny little postcard. And this past week - I did things. I discovered new stuff, I read real books, I faffed around weird Wikipedia pages, I lost myself in other series, I planted beans and basil and edible flowers. And I liked it - a lot. So whatever I do next, I’ll be on tumblr a lot less, because - I’m sorry - I’ve been fearing for a while that Supernatural simply wasn’t worth this level of devotion, and this finale pretty much confirmed that. So - really - I’ll keep reblogging gifs and I’ll probably write the occasional headcanon and feel free to ask me things and come talk to me and everything else, but please know that I’m not that positive about this show anymore, so if you want rainbows and ponies, my blog’s probably not the best place to get them. I’ll definitely keep writing, and I hope I’ve got enough love left in me to finish my DCBB, but other than that - I think I’m done. It’s likely I’ll watch the show next year, but I’ll certainly not anticipate new episodes and squeal at the screen and bleed my own blood all over it or anything. And maybe this will hurt at some point - God, I loved this show so goddamn much - but for now I’m just numb. 

So, here goes - quite possibly, my last meta. 


Cas: Yes, They Went There

This is what we’re all wondering, isn’t it? Is Cas really dead? 

No, he isn’t. If Misha was leaving the show, we’d know about it. Like, of course they’d keep it under wraps until the last episode, but it’d be out today - no reason it wouldn’t. Plus, from a narrative point of view, Cas’ death doesn’t make any sense. He just died after fucking up - again - and he never got to make his Big Choice between Heaven and *coughs* humanity, plus they’re having so much fun jerking us around with that yeah so maybe he and Dean they’re in love thing, why would they stop now? So, honestly, his ‘death’ was his only good moment during this season finale. Like, he obviously wasn’t brainwashed brainwashed, so it didn’t make any sense he wouldn’t involve Sam and Dean in his overly simplistic scheme, plus he’s been acting stupid and out of character the whole time he was on screen - and, I get Cas is hard to write, but come on. Renting a cabin under the name James Novak when he can hypnotize it out of some guy without leaving a paper trace? Reading books and taking online classes about childbirth? This from a guy who’s not a guy at all and has instinctive knowledge of physics and whatever and knows perfectly well that thing inside Kelly isn’t a human child, anyway, so he might as well take woodworking classes for all the good that would do him? Uh. Not to mention his random snooping into alternate dimensions he knew nothing about when he was supposed to be taking care of Kelly - if AU!Bobby had killed him, or if he’d fallen into a pit or whatever else, Kelly would have remained alone in that cabin basically waiting for Lucifer to find her. Honestly - why do they bother writing Cas at all if they can’t get him right?

Destiel: Still Subtext

And more bad news: five seasons of queerbaiting - and counting. This season finale had to be the one with the least amount of UST or pining or any kind of fuckery between them since, I don’t know, ever? Sure, there were moments, and I could list them, but why should I? Look at Cas doing his own thing, and what does it matter if he was staring at the water (possibly thinking about that fish which started everything, and by everything I mean Cas’ love for humanity, and by humanity I mean Dean), and what does it matter if Dean, as usual, is the one fretting about Cas and worrying about Cas and being all undignified and unmanly? It’s been years, and Dean was unusually chatty during the whole finale, so I’m sure some of us were like, ALERT ALERT THIS IS WHEN IT HAPPENS (not me, because I’m grumpy and disillusioned), and nope, not the time. Better luck next season, guys.

Honestly, at this point there are no good options. 

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Title: And We All Fall Down, Chapter 4

Summary: Jyn and Cassian enjoy spending time together on the press tour for their movie.

Notes: Based on @operaticspacetrash‘s moodboard about a fake celebrity pr relationship.

AO3/1655 words (Chapters 1, 2, 3)

Jyn woke with Cassian pressed along side her, his forehead touching the base of her neck. By his even breathing, Jyn guessed he was still asleep.

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You’re My Black Pearl | pt.3

Yugyeom x reader

Genre: Angst, smut

Warnings: Cheating/infidelity

Words: 1600

Chapter: ¾

Admin/author: Eottoghe

Beta: Zoie

{ previous }

Request:

Anonymous said to kpop-reads: May I request a smutty angst fic with Yugyeom based on the song Black Pearl by EXO?

Author’s note: I’m slow, bear with me. I made it to where if you don’t want to read the smut, you don’t have to so for some of you, this may be it ;) For the rest of you, get ready.

Summary: You don’t know if you can forgive him. You won’t even allow him to explain. But, you want to. You want nothing more but for him to be here, holding you close to his chest. But, first he has to find you.


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