i had too much to eat and now i feel sick

Some Strings Attached

Ugh so there was a post going around that I’ve now long since misplaced but it was like “I just saw you go upstairs with someone else and I know we’re only fuck buddies but I’m gonna go punch them in the face” and I was HERE FOR IT. If somebody remembers the post, link me. In the meantime, have some Sterek getting together fluff.

“Just tell Derek you want to date him,” Scott says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Stiles bugs his eyes and flails his hands in wordless frustration, because the correct response to this patently ludicrous advice eludes him. He had come for sympathy, not pie-in-the-sky delusions. “Scott. Bro,” he finally gasps. “How could you even suggest that in good faith? No way! Bad plan!” He slashes his arms in a demonstrative X. “The only reason we’re even hooking up is that I made it super clear I was down to fuck, no strings attached! I’m not ruining a good thing by announcing to Derek Hale that I’m 85% in love with him.”

“Why?” Scott genuinely seems confused, the sweet summer child. After falling into a happy triad with Allison and Isaac after their first semester at UCLA, he doesn’t really understand the definition of “unrequited.”

Stiles turns his attention to a hanging thread on his t-shirt, sourly tugging it loose. “He’s out of my league. I mean, with the baseball, and the smarts, and the sarcasm, and those eyes…” he breaks off with a sigh. The last thing he needs to do is remind himself of how gone he is on Derek. “Just, he’s popular. Dictionary definition of too cool for school. And the three people he actually deigns to hang out with here are all just as cool and good looking as he is. Do I need to remind you I’m not? I’m a gawky, nerdy Sophomore. I’m lucky to even be his fuck-buddy.”

Scott makes a face, incredulous. “I dunno, he must like you well enough if he’s still sleeping with you after all this time. What’s it been, six months? And you guys hang out, too, you’re always telling me about how easy it is to chat with him after you bone. So it’s not just sex.”

Stiles grimaces. “Yeah, but it’s not…”


“… a real relationship,” Derek says into the phone, hearing full well the heavy dejection in his voice. So sue him; the admission is more than a little depressing. “He just wants to be fuck buddies.”

“How do you know?” Laura asks reasonably. “Maybe this Stiles person would be interested in dating you, too. No offence, but you’re not great at reading people. I mean, he’s interested in chilling with you even after you hook up, and clearly he enjoys the physical aspect. Did he actually ever say he wasn’t looking for more?”

Derek heaves a sigh, rolling his eyes even though she can’t see over the phone. “Yep. About two minutes after the first time we slept together he said, ‘no strings attached, obviously.’ So, you know, pretty safe bet that it’s no strings attached.”

“Oh,” Laura says. For once she doesn’t have a snappy comeback.

“Oh,” Derek agrees. Dejectedly.

She gives him a sympathetic little hum, and then asks, “and he’ll definitely be at the sorority barbecue?”

“Yeah.” Stiles and his broad shoulders and his long fingers are definitely going to be at the party.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go,” his sister says softly. “If you really like him, and he’s just looking to get laid…”

Derek groans. Not go, and give up a chance to hook up with Stiles? Smart, maybe, but not something he’s capable of doing.

The problem is, he’s liked Stiles forever. Or at least since he first saw him, laughing uproariously and running around with his friends with an actually broom between his legs, playing “Quidditch.” Derek would have been way too embarrassed to do something like that on the front lawn, but Stiles made it seem like the most effortlessly awesome thing a person could get up to.

No, compared to Stiles, Derek is practically a social recluse, an awkward jock with only about three people who he gets along with at all. Stiles definitely doesn’t want to get saddled with a boyfriend like him. He’s lucky they’re even hooking up after all this time.

“Derek, I mean it,” Laura says. “Look out for yourself for once.”

“I know, I know,” Derek grumbles. “But it’s not my fault he’s…”

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7 Reasons Why

So…. I am currently watching the new tv show “13 Reasons Why” and my mind decided to make a tragically-beautiful connection tooooo can you guess what?? YUP LANCE!! So here are my thoughts once again… hope you enjoy and feel free to comment any other ideas!!
*NOTE* I’m lowkey crying as I’m writing this. My heart isn’t okay. I’m not okay, okay?? *MORE NOTES* So this came out kinda different than the show/book but i hope yall kinda get the idea

  • Lance was dead. Had committed suicide to be exact. And he left his story behind.
  • The tapes appeared from nowhere. No one knew where they came from or where they disappeared to. No one knew that the tapes contained so much in such a small amount of time. No one knew that these tapes would become an ugly part of them.
  • “Hello space pals and gals. Lance McClain (KINDA LOVE THIS LAST NAME) here. Live and in stereo.”
  • Lance starts off by explaining his “7 Reasons Why” (hahaha get it? Cuz he’s the seventh wheel?? *cries*) he committed suicide and his two rules.
    • “Rule number one. You must listen to the tapes. I’m not gonna lie. This is going to be hard to do but you MUST LISTEN.”
    • “Rule number two. When you are done, you must leave them where you found them. And if you, oh lets say, decide to throw them away, tsk tsk tsk…. bad things will happen.”
  • “First and foremost, our mighty and heroic leader, Shiro.”
    • “I wasn’t good enought to be praised by you.” Lance explains that Shiro was a good leader, a great leader one might say. Unreplacable, “unlike me.” So why was it that he never told Lance “great job” or “thanks for the help.” Why did he alway care so much for Keith? Told him “great job out there” and patted him on the back after every battle. Why did he always take his side even when he was in the wrong? Why did he treat Pidge like a little sister? Always taking care of them and making sure they were getting enough sleep. Always being so nice and caring to both. “You were always my hero but why did you not act like it?” He never payed attention when Lance didnt get enough sleep or didnt eat or was sick. Always making him work and train. Always pointing out his flaws without helping him improve them. “Why, Shiro, did you not care for me?”
  • “Can you guess our number two?? Well, I’ll give you a hint. It’s not me this time. *laughs* First time being number two, our excellent number one paladin, Keith!”
    • “Keith my man, I loved you.” (Klangst? WHY TF NOT?!?) Lance always loved Keith, always looked up to him too. He loved to joke around with him, loved to rile him up, loved to bicker with him because thats how he got to talk to him. He knew that they were playing around so why did it hurt so much? “Why Keith, did you always tell me I wasn’t good enough?” Always telling him to leave you alone, always “you’re annoying me” and never “please stay.” Keith always reminded Lance that he was never good enough, never up to his level, never realizing how lance felt. But how could Lance blame him? However, sometimes Keith, you, took it to far to the point where my heart was too broken to put back together. “I’ve always loved you but you made it so easy to hate you, too.”
  • “My favorite green paladin, my little space sister (female pronouns for this), my gaming buddy, Pidge.”
    • “Pidge, did you even ever realize that I saw you as my sister?” Lance saw his little sister in Pidge. He always, like Shiro, did his best to make sure they stayed healthy. He was always fussing over her eating and sleeping habits. So why did she never appreciate him? “Pidge, you never even said thanks you.” Lance just wanted to be a brother to her. So why did she make him a disposable replacement for her missing brother? Always using him when necessary and then throwing him away when it got too much for her? “Leave me alone Lance. Im working.” Pidge sometimes said really hurtful comments to Lance and she never let him help her because why would she let someone “annoying” help? In, reality Pidge was his sister but according to Pidge, “You are not my brother, Lance. Matt is.”
  • “Hunk, my precious beautiful friend. You did nothing wrong but you also did nothing at all.”
    • “Where to start?” Hunk had always been Lance’s best friend but after Voltron things changed. “I noticed that you and Pidge would hang out together, without me.” Lance just wants to be part of their group again. He tried so hard so join, to contribute, to help. But all he got was “you’re distracting us.” Although they didn’t hang out as much, Hunk was the first one to realize that something was wrong with Lance. “You left me alone.” Hunk saw him getting worse and changing throughout the days. He saw but didn’t do anything. “Hunk, why did you not do anything, if you noticed?” Lance wondered why Hunk left him by himself, why he didn’t try to reach out to him, why he didn’t invite him over, why didn’t he? “You could have helped but you didn’t.”
  • “Our beautiful space princess who will save the universe without moi, Allura.”
    • “Sometimes, your pushing for perfection was too much, not just for me but for everyone.” Lance always felt like the odd one out. Everyone was good at something but he never had a “thing” and Allura’s nagging didn’t help. “Keep up Lance!” Keep up with Keith in the training stimulator. Keep up with Pidge’s new machinery. Keep up with Shiro’s battle plans. Keep up with Hunk’s nee inventions. Keep up. “Again.” No matter how hard Lance tried, Allura was never satisfied. Never complementing him, never saying “good job,” never letting him rest, never telling he was good enough. “Why, Allura, did you never see how hard I was trying?”
  • “Lets talk about our seventh wheel, our number one *snickers* sharpshooter, Me! Lance!”
    • “In my opinion, I was the number one at fault for this occurrence.” Lance hated himself. He hated himself for feeling jealous, angry, sad, homesick, depressed. “I just wanted to be like the rest of you all.” Lance wanted to be as good as Keith and as strong as Shiro. He wanted to be as nice and comforting as Hunk. Wanted to be as smart as Pidge and as powerful as Allura. “I wish I wasn’t so selfish.” Lance thought he was selfish. He wished to get “thanks you’s” from the rest. Wished he get praised from Shiro and Allura. Wished Keith would feel the same way. Wished he was home with his famiy. He wished and wished and he hated it. “I wished I was home.”
  • “My favorite alien, Coran, the one who took care of me and who noticed me struggling. Yes, he tried to help but I guess it wasn’t enough since I’m dead now.”
    • “You let me walk away.” Coran tried helping Lance in his own way. But how could an alien understand some Earthly emotions? “We talked but sometimes it was just you talking.” Coran tried to get Lance to open up to him but failed. He always cut off Lance with his own stories so he never let Lance say what was bothering him. “Coran, you were like an uncle to me.” Coran reminded Lance of his uncle and it kinda hurt him. He was constantly reminded of his family whenever he was with Coran. This made his emotions even worse when he talked to Coran because sometimes Coran didn’t understand him. The day Lance died, Coran had told him to just “move on.” Lance just got up and left but he secretly hoped that Coran would come after him. He didn’t. “You wanted me to move on from this and I did.”
  • “I’m sorry.”
Pepero Day (M)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: Smut, Bestfriend!Yoongi, Valentine’s Day themed

Word count: 5.7k

warnings: Rated M, language, graphic sexual descriptions

A/N: This was meant to be a valentine’s day fic, but it’s a day late, rip. I hope you enjoy it regardless!

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Light (Jughead x Reader Imagine)

Request by @ateliefloresdaprimavera

Jughead had been typing away on his laptop for hours now. What had started as a quiet night in watching Netflix and eating popcorn had turned into you watching Netflix and eating popcorn alone whilst Jughead’s long fingers tapped away at the keys because, as he so eloquently put it, ‘when inspiration hits, you feed it’.

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(Zimbits, AU, 3.7K, click “read more” for the whole fic.)


Thanks. You can put it on the counter in the kitchen.”

That had been Jack’s first mistake.

It wasn’t so much the words he said, but rather the fact that he’d said them in French.

However, to Jack’s credit, he had been in the middle of revising a chapter when he’d heard the knock on his door, and the fact that he hadn’t had any caffeine yet due to the broken coffee maker had thrown off his entire morning.

He had been expecting Georgia, the lady he rented the cabin from, to be standing on his door step. However, instead of the landlord, he got a blond guy with wide, brown eyes staring back at him.

There was a sort of gurgle of surprise and a nervous giggle from the other guy for a moment before he blurted, “Hi, I’m your new housekeeper!”

Jack raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything in his confusion. Francine, Georgia’s wife, usually stopped by once every couple of days to tidy up the place, but neither of the two ladies had mentioned anything about a new hire.

Jack must have been lost in thought for a moment too long because the other guy took this as a sign that Jack didn’t speak English. “Uh, you know, cleaning?” He mimed a sweeping action and then pointed at Jack. “Ummm, je… travaille pour Georgia?” he said in a truly horrendous accent.

Jack gave an impatient nod of his head.

Je m’appelle Eric or you can call me Bitty. Actually, je m’appelle Bitty,” he said proudly with his hand out.

There was something about the other guy’s candidness that made Jack pause, or maybe he had been trapped in a cabin for too long, but he reached out and took the handshake.

It’s nice to meet you,” Jack replied in French.

And that had been his second mistake.

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imagine vampire yoongi.

Originally posted by myloveseokjin

  • just when you thought he couldn’t get any grumpier, min yoongi is cursed to walk the earth for all eternity.
  • yikes.
  • so done with the world’s shit by now, honestly he stopped caring a long, long, looooong time ago and if anyone expects him to give a flying fuck about a hashtag or the panda’s dying they can think again.
  • political scandal? “is that a new band?”
  • global warming? “good, it’s kinda drafty here.”
  • the sun will one day grow to encompass the earth? “great, i’ll be waiting.”
  • whenever he gets bored or impatient with everything he’ll just go to ground and hibernate. 
  • by which i mean he will literally dig himself a hole and go to sleep in the earth for anything from a week to a century (ok that was one time.)
  • and he’s cold all. the. time. like, yeah i know he’s technically dead but he actually feels the cold all the time, because he lowkey starves himself.
  • so he’s always very bundled up, and doesn’t really notice the temperature shift from inside/outside or winter/summer.
  • and yoongi is old, okay, he doesn’t need much blood to keep him going. 
  • he’s got a short list of donors he can have a few sips from during the week, and that way nobody has to die because of him.
  • because ugh slaughter is such a pain to clean up.
  • so, not only is he technically dead, but he looks kinda malnourished, a little sick, and like he hasn’t slept. ever. 
  • and yet he’s very pretty, flawless, stoic, and distractingly magnetic.
  • because he’s so old however, he’s not weak, just lethargic af.
  • there’s just one thing he cares about. wanna take a wild guess?
  • music.
  • the only reason he hasn’t sunk to the bottom of the ocean, flung himself into a volcano, or walked into the sunset by now.
  • and when you don’t need to eat, sleep, or pee, you get through a lot of music so yoongi has pretty much heard it all.
  • these days he just kinda hibernates and wanders around while he’s waiting for new releases.
  • and you work in a record shop. wow isn’t that a nice coinkydink.
  • his usual place shuts down and he has to find a new shop that’ll let him sit around and listen to music in the evenings. 
  • and your place of work is exactly one such place.
  • he comes in late, depending on the season, just when the sun has gone down, during the last few hours of your work day.  
  • he doesn’t say anything, just sits and listens until you have to lock up.
  • and you just assume he works all day and this is the only time he has to go browse, although you notice eventually that he rarely buys anything, but you decide to leave him alone because he looks like he’s had one hell of a day.
  • anyway it’s nice not to be alone in the shop at the end of the day when it gets dark and all.
  • you tried to offer him coffee once, because you got some for yourself and he always looks like he just got in from a snowstorm. but he just shook his head no.
  • and at first he would stop by the shop once a month or every two weeks.
  • but one night, when you play something over the speakers that he hasn’t heard in decades, he suddenly feels???? nostalgic ????
  • and with wide eyes he asks you the name of the artist and you trip all over yourself and your words trying to tell him because you don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak and wow is that what his voice sounds like
  • and after that he starts coming every night to rediscover all the old stuff he hasn’t listened to in ages, because somehow in all his grump he had completely forgotten he could do that???? 
  • and he’s lowkey very grateful that he rediscovered his love of music through you, so whenever you try to make polite conversation with him after that he doesn’t just grunt or shake his head, he gives you actual answers, and you start learning more about him.
  • you let him stay after closing time, just a little while until you have to go, making small talk whenever he’s not absorbed in the music.
  • that way you learn so, sO much about music, everything from little technical details to great historical context, and you don’t understand how one man can have such a large range of knowledge.
  • and then you start playing whichever album he chooses over the speakers so that you can both listen and talk about the music together.
  • and stay around longer so he can finish whichever album he’s listening to that evening.
  • and he begins to walk you home because that way you can continue your conversations, and also it’s late and dark and he knows exactly what kind of monsters lurk in these shadows.
  • and by that time you’re already head over heels for him, but he’s very careful about keeping his distance, so you just assume he’s not attracted to you and that’s fine as long as he keeps keeping you company.
  • yoongi has probably mentioned he’s a vampire.
  • like at least twice he’s proclaimed to be dead and you just assumed you didn’t get the joke.
  • but the real joke is he’s dead, he doesn’t care who knows, and it’s not like anyone will believe him anyway.
  • “you’re too thin, when was the last time you ate something, yoongi?”
  • “a couple centuries probably, what year is it again?”
  • and
  • “you’re so pale, yoongi, you should get more sun.”
  • “i’m already dead, a little sun isn’t gonna help.”
  • or
  • “you look tired, yoongi, do you get enough sleep?”
  • “i took a ten year nap before this, don’t worry.”
  • or
  • “hey, yoongi, how are you today?”
  • “dead. could be worse, i guess.”
  • lmao rip.
  • and then, you go and get a dang paper cut.
  • before you can so much as bring it to your lips yoongi is already at your side, pressing a tissue (where did that even come from?) to the cut so firmly it cuts off circulation to the entire finger anyway.
  • and he’s so,,,,, close. 
  • you’ve never seen him so close, and all you can do is stare at him like an idiot and wonder how many people have specks of red in their eyes, because you’ve never seen that on anyone before.
  • and he doesn’t even breathe. he can’t.
  • and that’s when you realise “yoongi, you’re so cold!”
  • “i’m dead. i told you, i’m a vampire.”
  • and you’re like hha,,, hah,,,ha? w-what? 
  • so he takes your other hand, and holds it to the side of his neck and he’s completely cold and there’s no pulse.
  • and now the cat is out of the bag so he may as well lean in and sniff you because life’s too short amirite.
  • “you smell……….. incredible.”
  • that’s when you see his lil fangs.
  • and at first you’re freaking out because hol ?? ?y STHIT???
  • but then you realise, this is yoongi, who’s walked you home for months now, he’s had every opportunity to drain you dry and he hasn’t and you’re desperately in love with him.
  • so you just kinda,,,,, chill.
  • and yoongi looks surprised, expecting you to kick and scream, and asks why your heart rate suddenly slowed again and you tell him it’s because you trust him.
  • so, he asks “but what if i bit you?”
  • and you say “you wouldn’t.”
  • “then,,,,,,,, what if i kissed you?”
  • your heart damn near beats right out of your chest.
  • and in response he gives you the smuggest grin, fangs and all.
  • anyway, nsfw under the cut.

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Von (Hope)

Þar sem gróir þar er von.
Allt sem græðir geymir von.

Listen to [x] while reading.

-

On the night of May 2nd 1998, Draco Malfoy lays awake on his bed.

It’s over. He’s dead. It’s over.” His mind chants. But is it?

A dark, hooded figure that hadn’t been there a second before stands on the edge of his bed, Malfoy starts. He grasps for his wand before realizing he hasn’t got one. The hooded figure chuckles, voice acidic and cold.

“You cheated me.” It says, Draco is frozen in place, searching his brain for whoever this might be. It can’t be the Dark Lord. He’s dead. Draco saw him die today. It can’t be.

“I’m Death.” It answers the question he hadn’t voiced, the knowledge brings a sense of Deja Vu, but he can’t quite place it “and no, I’m not here to take you with me.” he fails to conceal his disappointment. The room feels colder than it had.

“You were meant to die today, in the fire, but you didn’t.” The hairs on his body stand on edge at the mention of it. He’s shaking before he realizes it.

It had been so hot, he’d been gripping Potter’s waist like a lifeline, the fire licking at the hems of his pants, his screams drowned by the roar of the flames, Crabbe falling down and being consumed by them like he was nothing. He thought he’d die. He wishes he had.

“It was written on the stars, Draco Malfoy. However did you cheat the heavenly bodies?” It drawls out impatiently, he doesn’t know the answer. Is he supposed to?

“For this, however.” Death says, swishing it’s cloak, bony hands showing “I owe you a wish. Any wish at all.”

Draco’s eyes widen and his heart picks up speed in his chest. Any wish at all.

He suddenly remembers hearing a similar story to this one. Every bone in his body advices him not to accept, for Death could only be cunning and deceitful, not giving and generous.

Or perhaps Life was the first two and Death’s sweet release was the last. Perhaps life had been the cruel one all along. He dreams of a world where he doesn’t have to feel all of this, where the guilt doesn’t eat him alive, where he never takes the Dark Mark, where war doesn’t kill hundreds, where he’s happy.

He realizes that even if Death is fooling him, he doesn’t mind the likely outcome.

“I want a time turner” he says firmly “One capable of going back to 1991.” If Death is surprised, it doesn’t show it, it moves it’s hands in a swish and a time turner appears between them. It floats until it settles on Draco’s hand.

“Act wisely, Malfoy boy. For I can only grant you one wish.” It says, the ghost of a smile behind the dark hood. Then disappears.

Draco clutches the object and adjusts the time. He wonders if he’s in a dream, if it’ll work. Maybe he’s already dead and doesn’t know it, he doesn’t mind much. 

Doesn’t care to find out.

He closes his eyes and is launched into the paradox of time and space. He sees a colorless void and falls falls falls. His body small and insignificant in the never-ending space. Just when he’s starting to become fond of the quiet nothing and the soothing air touching his face, his stomach twists and he appears in a room that he knows too well. High ceilings and cool toned ancient furnitures. No feeling of home or coziness despite belonging to a child.

His childhood bedroom. If one could call it that.

He looks at the clock with a sharp twist and beneath the time, it reveals the date.

July 31st of 1991.

He almost can’t believe he has succeeded, but can’t dwell on his fear and excitement too long, for a small boy whom he knows too well and not at all stands at the foot of his bed, staring at him in horror. It’s a shock, seeing himself so full of life in the innocence of a child who doesn’t know what the future entails. A child with eager eyes and a prideful chest. Malfoy realizes he’s a ghost of what this child is.

“Who are you?” The small one shrieks. Draco presses a finger to his lips, shushing him. He’s grateful that the Manor is big enough for them not to be heard.

“I’m you. From the future.” young Draco flinches back and is about to start shouting again, before he seems to take in Draco’s features and connects them to an older version of himself. His eyes widen and Draco can see himself panic and glance around frantically, although also subtly, for an escape.

Slytherins. He thinks fondly.

“That’s not possible. Why-how are you here?” He demands.

“I have a story to tell you. But the first thing you need to know.” He swallows a lump in his throat “is that today you will be meeting a boy as you get fitted for your Hogwarts robes. I want you to change what you will say to him, for it’ll change how he sees you. It is extremely important that you do so.”

“Why? What do you mean? I don’t understand.” young Draco looks even more confused, of course he is.

Draco explains as much as he can and sugar coats what a child shouldn’t have to know. He attempts to explain to his own self that the opinions of his father are wrong, the small Draco tries to protest, but he doesn’t allow him to and continues telling him what’ll happen if he doesn’t listen carefully. By the end, his voice is hoarse and little Draco looks sick with fear. But he nods, seemingly understanding he has a duty to perform even if he doesn’t quite understand all of it it. Ah, the usual Malfoy, accepting what’s presented to him, born to please his elders, he thinks bitterly.

“Who’ll be the boy I’ll meet today?” His younger self asks tentatively when Draco is done talking and stands up. Draco smiles nostalgically as he adjusts the time again.

“I have put my faith in you, what you choose to do from now can change everything.” He says, and just as he feels the void sucking him in again, he says his last words to the last hope he’s got.

“And Draco, one last thing.” the kid nods “offer him your hand before you learn his name.”

-

where things grow, there is hope,
all that heals has hope.
 

based on this post where lardo and shitty are accidentally pregnant

She was five weeks in and nothing was showing, but she’d been puking almost everyday and had refused Bitty’s pumpkin pie yesterday. Lardo hadn’t told her mom yet, and Shitty refuses to tell anything to his father, but she knows that his mother knew. Jack had called her immediately after Shitty freaked and told him a week ago, before freaking out himself and telling Bitty, who had broken into their apartment in order to make sure she was okay.

“I’m okay, people should stop asking me if I was okay, I’m pregnant, not sick.” She complained to Jack, who only answered by giving a silent nod.

“Shitty’s freaking out,” Jack said instead.

“I know.” She groaned and put her face in her hands. A moment of silence passed between the two before she lifted her head again. “I don’t want to chain him down like this or jerk him around emotionally. I know he wants me to keep it.”

“He wants whatever you want,” Jack said.

She knew that, but she could also read Shitty well enough to know that he was ecstatic and wanted nothing more than to have her keep it. And the scary thing was, she could also feel herself being as excited as he is.

“How are the two of us even remotely qualified to be parents? He’s just starting his job, and I have my job.” And Lardo wasn’t sure that her bosses would let her take a maternity leave. And even more terrifyingly, she just realized that she wasn’t on the life track that she had envisioned for herself with this job. Sports management paid a lot, and Lardo knew she was on the fast track to a good promotion, but now this forced her to look at her life, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to spend it all on picking up after athletes. But she wasn’t sure if she could provide proper care if she didn’t have this high paying position. And it was a downward spiraling mess of disaster.

It was as if Jack could read her mind, or at least the mood in her mind, because he puts a hand on her shoulder and leaned back on the sofa that they were sitting at.

“Maybe you’re thinking too much,” he said. “Just concentrate on whether or not you want to keep it, and trust in your friends to help you no matter which choice it is. We’re a team.”

She sniffed, and suddenly Jack found himself with an armful of Lardo. She let her tears and snot stain his sweater, and he held her through her trembling. When the two of them extricated themselves from their situation, Jack extended a fist, and Lardo bumped it.

“Got your back,” they said together.

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Inspired by THIS POST about gay Disney Princesses. 


When the old beggar comes to the door, Addy knows better than to let her in. She doesn’t look at the rose or the woman too long; she shuts the door.

Some will call her arrogant or selfish, but what is she to do? No guards, parents in the capital (not, here, not here), and the knowledge that she is the damsel in all those fairy tales weighs heavily on her mind. Oh, little princess, far from home and alone, so alone.

The Enchantress (for they do not call her witch) makes sure that she stays that way.

Alone except for her wilting rose.

(She did not want it, would not take it, so she was bound to it. Such is the way of Princesses.)

———————————-

Addy used to have frightful bursts of temper. Her face would turn red, fat tears rolling down her cheeks, mouth screwed into an upside down kidney bean. Anything could set her off; a too tight corset, a walk ended too quickly, another toy sword taken away. She’d wail and scream, kick her feet and punch the air, tear and rend anything within arm’s reach.

The first time she has a fit in her new form, it’s after Mrs. Potts reads the King and Queen’s decision on her…condition. She’s to stay here, on the outskirts of their kingdom, until a Prince comes to release her from her spell. Alone until a different sort of bond is forced on her, until she is made to change from princess to beast to bride.

Addy know why they refuse to save her. It’s because she’s always been too big, too strong, too ill-tempered, too–

In her rage, Addy upends the tea tray, forgetting, forgetting, forgetting.

She is reminded when fine china falls to the hard ground, when it rattles, when it shatters, when it screams.

“No!” Addy falls to her knees next to her dishes– no, her friends and frantically rights them, apologies tumbling from her lips, eyes brimming with tears.

“Temper,” Mrs. Potts murmurs, more out of reflex than anything, looking obviously terrified. She hops from her side to her base, better able to control her new body than any other castle resident. Her lid is sitting askew and her eyes are wide (so wide) as they dart from one cup to another. “Daniel? Daniel!”

Addy cuts herself on broken porcelain and flinches. She–she’d killed him, she’d been so thoughtless, how could she? “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry–”

“I’m okay,” a little voice says. “I’m okay, Mom!”

 Addy sobs as she locates him under the silver platter, on his side, trapped. She throws the platter too hard, lodging it in the wall, and takes Daniel in her paws.  

“It’s okay, Princess Addy,” Daniel chirps at her. He’s a little older than her, just a few years, and he’s always trying to be strong. His eyes are wide (too wide), but he offers her a tremulous smile. “I’m okay.”

“Thank goodness,” Mrs. Potts says and her china clinks as she hops forward. 

Addy’s eyes lock on the horrible, huge chip in his rim. 

I did that.

She’s across the room before being aware of setting Daniel down, of standing, of leaping away.

“Princess,” Mrs. Potts says from her low, low position on the floor. “What–”

“Don’t call me that,” Addy grits out. Her huge body leans heavily against the door, making it groan, as she desperately tries to wrap her paw around the handle. She can’t stop looking at the chip, the proof of harm, the proof that something much worse can happen so easily. “Don’t call me– I’m not–I’m not the Princess. I’m the Beast.”

The door crashes open and she disappears.

————————————————

It’s weeks before the servants realize that she’s never going to answer to her name again. She no longer sleeps in her princess bed or attempts to wear her princess clothes. She wears pants scavenged from the servants’ quarters, tunics from her father’s closet, ties her mane back with twine instead of ornaments.

“Addy!” they call. “Princess Addy!”

The Beast doesn’t even know who that is.

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valentine’s day // dylan o’brien

Summary: Dylan falls in love with a girl who hates Valentine’s Day

Requested: no

Pairing: Dylan & Y/N

Warning: yes, mature language, themes, & smut throughout

Masterlist

His long legs extended across her lap as he took a large gulp of the amber liquid. Sighing contently, he placed the glass bottle on the floor and snuggled deeper into his couch. Her hands were lazily drapped over his feet as she focused on the television. The movie that they had been watching was fairly interesting although she was having a bit of a hard time following the plot.

“Wait, is he the sister’s boyfriend?” Y/N asked her best friend who shook his head in return.

“No, that’s the guy they met at the bar who looks like the boyfriend.” Dylan explained.

Furrowing her eyebrows, Y/N continued to watch the film hoping somewhere along the way things would make sense.

This was their routine. Every Friday night for the past 3 years was spent on his lumpy couch drinking beer, eating pizza, and watching movies. As the ending credits started, Y/N let out a soft yawn as she extended her arms.

“What did you think?” Dylan asked, eager to know what she thought of the film. “I thought she was going to pick the boyfriend’s brother’s friend.” Y/N admitted with a giggle, thinking about the cliched love triangle movie she just watched. “The ending was very unexpected.”

Pulling his feet off of her lap, he sat on the edge of the couch.

“What about you?” She called out as he walked to the kitchen with his empty beer bottle.

“I was routing for the boyfriend’s brother’s friend too.” His laugh echoed throughout the kitchen.

Their friendship consisted of watching cheesy romance movies together, texts at 3am when they couldn’t sleep, and the comfort of knowing that they always had someone they could count on. It was completely platonic.

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Weight

Anon: Can you please do one where lance is self-doubting and staying up really late and training? Like he gets really sick from not sleeping. Like can’t keep anything down sick. It’s okay if you don’t want to do or you already did this already. Please and thank you!

Anon: Maybe something where Lance is getting berrated (idk why) and Keith comes to his defense like in intensness or something.

A/N: When I started writing this, I didn’t intend for it to be so dark. Hot damn. Deep shit ahead. Also, I’m horrible at pet-names. I tried to write from 3rd person Keith instead of omniscient so here we go ᕕ(ツ)ᕗ

It was a particularly depressing mission.

The Blue Paladin had to make a near-impossible choice. Surrender Voltron, or surrender a resource-heavy planet and all its inhabitants. Death wasn’t mentioned in either scenario, but it was very heavily implied. In the end, Lance made the choice to save Voltron on the basis that they would save many many other planets by defeating Zarkon in the long run.

But that didn’t mean a whole planet’s worth of deaths wasn’t weighing on his soul.

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Writing Is Hard

Summary: Dean finds the blog you use to read smutty fan fiction. And of course, he decides he can write a better story about himself. You help.

Warning: Smut, some dirty talk, mutual masturbation, all kinds of fan fiction clichés

Word Count: 4350

A/N: This is all written with love for fan fic. I’m teasing, not putting it down in any way. And thanks to @littlegreenplasticsoldier​ for being a great beta and being generally flawless. Hope you enjoy! XOXO


No. This isn’t happening.

This is one of those moments you’d had weird nightmares about, dreams that left you embarrassed and feeling all icky the next day until you finally convinced yourself that it wasn’t real. And just like those moments, this one will end any second now. You’ll wake up in some motel bed, Dean will be in the next room with Sam, asleep or showering or eating or anything but standing over your laptop with that look on his face.

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I love their friendship so much and I’m disappointed in myself for not drawing something for them yet.

Lance is down with the flu and feeling extremely homesick; Hunk is the World’s Best  Friend and does his best to take care of him :’)

Long version under the cut:

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anonymous asked:

Writting Prompt: Danny cries in his sleep, sometimes really loud. And screams. Once he even transform while sleeping. The problem is, he start to doing it when he fall asleep in class. Hope it's good enough to write

angst oh god what is with this phandom and angst okay here’s ur angst with a heavy dose of weird millennial humour because this bitch can’t angst without a metric fuck of comedy sprinkled all over the place

also I’m sick and wrote half of this in the middle of the night while feverish so like, I did my best

“OKAY THIS IS FINE.” Danny said aloud to the floor. He didn’t really intend the floor to be the recipient of his ire but it was where his face was currently planted so it would just have to ding darn diddly deal with it.

Danny had experienced his fair share of being stuck in awkward positions but this one had rivalled many of his top ten, and he hadn’t even been thrown across a room by a ghost to achieve it! Nope, he just fell out of bed.

One arm was flung out before him, the other awkwardly pulled behind his back, still twisted up in his bedsheets, along with his leg. Just the one leg, the other was hanging - in quite a remarkable display of inhuman dexterity - over his shoulder.

All it took was some gut wrenching, heart stopping, bile inducing nightmares. Nothing fancy really, just the visceral image of everyone he loved and cared about DYING from TOO MUCH FIRE right in front of his eyes as he watched helplessly. Yep.

“THIS IS FINE.” Danny said again, a little louder this time. The carpet smelled like feet, Danny decided maybe he should take his eating hole off the gross floor before he caught a foot fungus on his lip. He knew it was possible, it happened to Ricky Marsh once at camp.

Yeah Danny should REEEAAAALLY get his face off that carpet. Right now, yep. He was gonna get up at this very mome-

Jazz heard a loud snore come from Danny’s bedroom. He was supposed to be up half an hour ago, school started in ten minutes. But she knew he had a plate piled high with superhero shenanigans that kept him up at obnoxiously late hours nine nights out of ten. The bags under his eyes could hold all the homework he never got done, with extra space for his unfinished chores.

Jazz was fully prepared to sneak in and firmly tuck him into bed with ghost proof sheets, a lie, an excuse and at least three compromises balanced on her tongue ready to jump at any parent and/or teacher that wanted her brother out of the warm sanctuary of bed today. Then she heard his gentle snores twist into a devastatingly soul crushing little whimper.

Oh boy, that wasn’t good.

Jazz opened her brother’s bedroom door and quietly peered inside to find… no one. He wasn’t there. Typical ghost bullshi-

Jazz had almost closed the door when she heard it again, that tiny little whimper. Was he invisible? She thought to herself, barely acknowledging how fucking weird her life had gotten that that question came so naturally to her.

Jazz padded into the room and found that Danny had, somehow, managed to fall asleep on the floor beside his bed. One leg still hanging in the air via blanket sling, it was almost funny, until he screamed that is.

Jazz nearly jumped out of her spotty blue socks when a noise ripped out of her sleeping brother’s throat, a noise that honestly could have come from the cutting room floor of a horror flick that was deemed too terrifyingly violent to be shown on screens literally anywhere. His back was arched, his mouth wide, hands curled in on themselves, he almost looked as though he were convulsing.

It stopped suddenly, with a gasp and a jolt Danny woke. He didn’t shoot up or flail about, he just laid down on the floor, eyes blearily noticing that there was another person in the room. Jazz sat down by his side as he wiped his face, staring at the tears on his hands.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Danny glared at her.

“Sorry, standard question.” Jazz mumbled as she unhooked his foot from the clinging bedsheets. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Danny, still laying on the floor, swung his right arm around, it had gone numb and tingly, the kind of numb and tingly that really hecking hurt when he started moving it again, yeesh.

“I had this really gnarly dream,” he started as he massaged his arm, Jazz listened intently. “I ordered a sandwich without mayo but when I bit into it there was mayo like, EVERYWHERE and-”

Jazz dropped a pillow on his face.

“That was rude.” Danny’s muffled voice grumbled.

“If you don’t want to talk about it you can just say so instead of being an asshole.” Jazz huffed as she found a pair of jeans and a shirt that were Clean Enough and threw them at the pillow. “You were crying and screaming, I was WORRIED.”

Danny pulled the pillow and clothes away and looked at his sister, actually looked her in the face. Her eyebrows were pulled tight and she was gnawing on her bottom lip, she really did look worried. Danny sat up and fished a somewhat pungent binder from under his bed, Pariah’s Oath he really needed to do his laundry.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” he stared down at his hands, face suspiciously neutral.

“Okay.” Jazz’s voice was gentle, she wasn’t going to push it, she’d learned a long time ago that it always just made things worse. “That’s okay, just know you can always talk to me, alright?”

Danny stood up and stretched, joints cracking and popping in a way that made Jazz want to barf. He could feel his arm again, thank the Ancients.

“You say that now, but every time a new rocket model comes out-”

“Bye Danny.” Jazz fucked off faster than Johnny’s shadow at dawn, absolutely Not wanting to stick around for another geeky space rant. Danny’s shit eating grin followed her out the door until it clicked shut, suddenly dropping back into the deadass tired face of a student who was entirely convinced that consistent sleep schedules were a myth.

He was not okay, ooooh he was so not okay.

Falling asleep again had been a mistake, a GRAVE mista- no okay, no, that pun was just inappropriate. He’d just had not one, but TWO disgustingly detailed nightmares about Literally Everyone dying, death puns were OFF the table right now.

Regular puns were still on the cards though, he thought to himself as he plopped his Little Pocket Book of Puns on top of a deck of cards sitting on his desk. He was proud of that one, in fact he snapchatted it, his smug face squeezed into the corner of the shot by the words ‘passng chem is off the cards bt my puns arnt’. It was easy to fool people with photos, he only had to pull off one good smile and people thought he was fine.

The flood of horrified snapchats he received in return made him giddy. Everything from a two minute video of Valerie trying not to hurl to a picture of Dash’s middle finger. Danny grinned, his grin looked genuine, it was not.

“This is fine.” he lied.

*RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRING*

Danny barely made it through the door before the bell went off, he celebrated his victory with a very brief and offensively outdated dance move before Tucker threw a pen at his head and the teacher told him to sit down before he hurt himself.

Danny’s goofy grin remained plastered onto his face as he sat next to Tucker, who was giving him the kind of look that was usually reserved for the weird surrealist internet videos Nathan always tagged him in on Facebook.

“You are like…” Tucker started, fiddling with the broken nib of his stylus. “Super hyper today what the fu-”

“Language, Foley.” the homeroom teacher deadpanned from behind his book.

“Sorry sir! But seriously what the fuck dude.” Tucker continued at a still very perceptible volume. The teacher sighed heavily.

“It’s cool I’m fine I just got like two hours of sleep and drank five coffees in ten minutes I think I can hear colours.” Danny’s eye twitched.

Tucker didn’t laugh, Danny was trying to be funny but it was like, twelve year old funny. He sighed and lowered his voice.

“You’re having nightmares again aren’t you.” Tucker stared through Danny’s plastic grin with serious eyes. “We talked about this Danny, I told you to STOP faking this shit with me. You know what happens when you don’t get enough sleep, you get really fucking weird.”

“Did you get my snapchat this morning?” Danny asked as though he hadn’t heard a single word his best friend had just said.

“Yes, it was awful and I hate you.” The jab had no bite, Tucker couldn’t stand seeing Danny like this, it was like some awful parody of his friend amped up to eleven. He didn’t bother trying to talk sense into him, sense was gone, sense was out the window, sense was on the next plane to god damn Timbuktu.

Danny’s giddiness didn’t let up a single inch throughout their first couple of morning classes. He had stupid jokes and shitty puns hidden up every sleeve in the building, and the tiniest little thing would set him off giggling. Star smacked a fly with a ruler, Danny literally fell off his chair laughing.

Mr Lancer gave Tucker permission to drag Danny out into the hallway to calm down. Tucker grimaced in apology as he dragged along a snorting Danny by the sleeve, the rest of the class having a good laugh of their own.

“Do you think he’s like, actually on drugs or something?” Tucker heard Paulina whisper not even remotely quietly as they left the room.

The moment the classroom door had closed, Tucker slammed Danny against the wall.

“DUDE! GET. A. GRIP.” Tucker was not even in the general vicinity of fucking around right now. Danny needed to chill his tits before he got into serious trouble, the last thing he needed was a detention lumped on top of the pile of reasons Danny’s life was a train wreck.

Danny clenched his teeth, his eyes were wide, too wide. Then his mouth curled up and a laugh squeezed its way through taught lips. Oh no, not again. Not on Tucker’s watch. Before the next giggle fit could get into full swing Tucker had pulled out his drink bottle, uncapped it, and dumped the entirety of its contents on Danny’s stupid guffawing head.

A cough and a splutter later and Danny was sitting on the floor, the stupid grin officially washed from his face.

“Can we talk like actual human beings now?” Tucker asked, the plastic water bottle thudding emptily on the ground.

“I’m not an ‘actual human being’. So no. I can’t.” Danny’s voice was short and clipped, his expression stony.

Tucker slumped to the floor next to his best friend, ignoring the puddle he was half sitting in. They sat in silence for a bit, listening to Mr Lancer’s muffled voice droning on about adverbs or something. A squeak from someone’s shoe echoed down the empty hall. A fluorescent light flickered. Danny winced.

“You wanna borrow my earphones? I’ve got some chill tunes if you need to like, shut everything out for a bit.” Tucker held the tangled cords out to Danny who promptly stuck them in his ears and buried his face in his arms. It was all just, just too much right now.

He threw his hands over his ears when the bell rang, Tucker put a gentle arm around his shoulder.

“C'mon, it’s about to get really loud out here.” he said quietly, taking Danny by the arm and leading him to their next class. It was history, they were watching a movie. Perfect. Tucker rolled up his jacket and put it on the desk in front of Danny.

“Try and sleep a bit, if you can. You can copy my notes later.”

Tucker was a good friend.

Danny put his head down, Tucker’s chill playlist still thrumming softly in his ears. He didn’t want to sleep, he didn’t want to see everyone die again, but his eyes could barely stay open. He read somewhere online that just laying down and resting was still good for you, even if he didn’t sleep he could still get some energy back at least, maybe.

He was out like a light the moment his head hit Tucker’s jacket.

The dream was never the same. Every time it started as just a regular weird ass dream, he was at the Nasty Burger, but he was sitting at his kitchen table. His friends were there, so was some guy he’d never met, they were talking about monster trucks or… something. The guy he didn’t know was showing him a song he wrote, it was gentle and calm, Danny liked it.

That was when the Guys in White showed up. They’d been there before, but not every time. Danny remembered the last dream he had, vaguely, he didn’t know he was dreaming now, but he knew what was going to happen next.

“RUN!” he tried to scream, but his voice came out strangled and quiet. Sam and Tucker kept chatting, they couldn’t see the danger, the strange guy started playing a different song, he had an acoustic guitar now and was on a stage that wasn’t there before.

The Guys in White aimed their ectoguns, knocking off shots around the entire Nasty Burger, Valerie collapsed behind the counter, had she always been there? Jazz was next, she was reading a book on the lounge that had definitely been there the whole time. Danny kept trying to scream, but his throat just couldn’t make anything more than a strangled rasping noise.

Sam and Tucker collapsed before him, the music changed again, the guy on the stage had a smoking hole in his chest, he was playing a cello now. The music was calm, soft and gentle, it hadn’t stopped during the shooting. The GIW agent at the head of the group turned to Danny, face splitting into an evil grin, flaming hair licking at his temples, it wasn’t a GIW agent any more. It had never been a GIW agent.

Danny tried to transform, he needed to save them, they were dead but he NEEDED to save them, if he could go ghost, if he could change he could fix this. His core felt so far away, the cold chill within him just JUST out of his grasp. Why couldn’t he change? WHY COULDN’T HE CHANGE?

Tucker sat at his desk in the dark classroom, taking halfassed notes about… something something president Washington. Hadn’t they already covered this? A flash at the edge of his vision pulled his tired gaze over to the sleeping mess beside him. Danny made a noise, a whimper? It sounded like he was trying to say something.

“Ru… ru-” Danny muttered, voice broken and, oh god he sounded so terrified.

Tucker’s heart splintered into tiny little pieces, and those tiny pieces shattered until his heart was basically just a pile of powder, really sad and devastated powder. Concentrated melancholy, in powder form. He nudged Danny.

“Danny, Danny wake up. Dude you’re talking in your sleep, WAKE UP.” Tucker was super worried, like beyond overprotective mother worried, if Danny said something incriminating in his sleep, if he said something about PHANTOM-

“Gotta… go-” a strand of silver began to creep through Danny’s dark hair.

Oh fuck.

Tucker shook Danny as violently as he subtly could, he needed to wake up. He needed to wake the fuck up right the fuck right NOW. FUCK. It was panic time, shit was getting dangerously identity revealing up in here and Tucker had to do something about it.

More silver was weaving through Danny’s hair, flickers of a dark, skin tight costume appearing for only the briefest of anxiety inducing moments. They were sitting in the back corner of the room, no one had noticed that anything was wrong yet, but someone would. Someone would notice SOON if Tucker couldn’t get Danny to wAKE THE HECKING FUCK HELL UP.

“Danny I swear to god if you don’t wake up I’m going to kill the rest of you. WAKE. UP.” How was Tucker supposed to wake him up without drawing attention to- oh good lordy fucK HIS HAIR.

Tucker pulled Danny’s hood over his head as quickly as he could nearly half a second after a flash of white overtook his entire scalp. Had anyone noticed?? Tucker glanced around the room, nobody was looking, thank christ Wes wasn’t in this class.

Tucker tucked the white strands into the hood as best he could manage before texting Sam as fast as his fingers would allow.

Sam was in the middle of copying some crap about photosynthesis that she already knew when she felt her phone buzz. It was from Tucker, and if his spelling was anything to go by, he was in trouble.

'DIASTRACTION NOWm’

Sam got the gist.

Pretending she was about to vomit everywhere was an easy way out of the classroom, and from there it was just a quick run to the fire alarm. It wasn’t the first time Sam had pulled off a fake emergency, she smashed the glass and hit the button with no hesitation, fuck the consequences. From there she just had to figure out where Danny and Tucker were, they all had copies of each other’s classes in case of just such emergencies.

History, they had history. She knew which room that was.

Sam took off running, boots thundering through the crowds of students filtering out of their classrooms. Sam could barely hear the alarm over the sound of her heart beat thudding in her ears, she didn’t have time to panic and worry, something was wrong and the most important thing right now was finding out what it was and if her friends were okay.

Someone noticed her through the crowd though. As she smashed through a group of kids coming out of a maths class, one guy caught her gaze, one guy decided to follow. Jesus shit she did NOT have the time for this.

Sam detoured down a seperate hallway, the tall redhead on her tail easily keeping pace, why couldn’t he just mind his own god damn business for once and, you know what? Sam thought, FUCK IT.

Another detour into an empty classroom and she had him. Bursting through the door after her, Wes looked around fervently, expecting to find Danny in some kind of juicy compromising situation. What he got was a surprise boot to the gut and he hit the deck like a sack of bricks.

Sam didn’t waste a second before bolting from the room, Wes had already taken up enough of her precious time.

Wes coughed and wheezed and tried to drag a breath into his aching abdomen, she’d clocked him a damn heavy blow and his body was not cooperating until it had a good few moments to recover from Whatever The Fuck Just Happened.

Damn it he was so close!

“Alright everyone, out onto the parking lot, like we do literally every other week.” The history teacher droned, his voice dry. He didn’t even bother making sure everyone left the room before walking out himself, it was probably a ghost attack anyway. These things lost their sense of urgency after the last fifty billion times, the only reason he didn’t make everyone get back into their seats was for legal reasons and honestly, he could really use the smoke break.

Tucker made a show of getting up to leave, but once he and Danny were the only two left he immediately dropped his shit and whammo’d his fists down on Danny’s desk.

“WAKE UP!” He yelled as Sam slid haphazardly into the room, clocking her hip on the teacher’s desk as she failed to reign in her momentum. She struggled with her footing for a moment before catching herself and racing up to the back of the class.

“Is he okay? What’s happening??” she asked, breathlessly.

Tucker lifted the hood from Danny’s bright-ass silvery hair.

“He’s transforming in his sleep and I can’t get him to wake up.” Tucker rushed out in one breath before grabbing Danny by the shoulders. “WAKE. UP. WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!!!!” Tucker screamed while shaking him with about as much tenderness as an irate Skulker on illegal performance enhancing ghost drugs. Finally, it was enough.

Danny jolted roughly, spasmed almost, and opened his fluorescent green eyes. Sam and Tucker took a quick step back in case he lashed out, but he didn’t. Danny’s hands gripped at the table hard enough to leave gouges in the sharpie-graffiti stained surface as his breath came out laboured and rasping. Tears smeared across his cheeks and dripped from his nose and chin.

He blinked, hard, before finally raising his head from the desk, looking remarkably disoriented. He was still flickering in and out of ghost form, disappearing from view entirely a few times as well, but it was slowing down as he took a few deep, shuddering breaths. Soon enough he was calm enough to stick to one form, human fortunately.

Sam breathed out a sigh and sat heavily on the nearest chair. He was okay and god she needed to sit down and catch the breath she’d left behind in science class.

Tucker sat beside Danny - who was now vigorously rubbing at his face - and took back his earphones, Sam could hear something that sounded like a cello playing through the small speakers

Tucker got through maybe the first two syllables of the standard 'are you okay?’ when he was abruptly cut off by a mildly lisping giggle.

Wes stood half through the doorway, phone out and trained on Danny’s previously unstable form. He looked a little pale and seemed to be having trouble breathing but that didn’t stop a wide shit eating grin from stretching across his freckled cheeks.

“Gotcha.” he sneered before turning on his heel and fleeing in unbridled glee.

Sam had recovered quickly from her previous run, she was on him like the Box Ghost on a roll of bubble wrap. Tucker heard the pounding of two sets of feet followed by a loud THUD, a squeal, and then what sounded suspiciously like a phone being heavily stomped on by a very firmly placed boot. The groaning came after that, punctuated with some extremely foul language that may have been spluttered through a bleeding nose and/or lip.

Sam came back into the room with a crushed phone in one hand and bloody knuckles on the other. She wasn’t dicking around, not today.

“You okay Danny?” she asked, getting only a tired glare in response. “Sorry, standard question.”

Sam picked up Danny’s backpack and put her hand out for him to take, he grasped it gratefully and she pulled him up from his chair as Tucker wound an arm around his waist. With the support of the two actual greatest people in the whole damn world, Danny walked out of the school and into the parking lot where an exasperated principal Ishiyama was counting heads and calling names.

“Equal Rites! What were you three still doing inside? Get into your- Mr Fenton are you alright?” Mr Lancer’s angry stride softened into a quick jog, concern weaving it’s way through his face at the sight of Danny’s red eyes and wet cheeks.

“He uh, had a head on collision with Wes on our way out.” said Sam, like a liar. “Took a corner too fast and copped a hit to the nose so his eyes got all teary, but he’s okay.”

“Wes might need a little help though.” Tucker added on. “We offered but he’s pretty much convinced we just rammed him on purpose and he threatened to tell everyone we beat him up sooo we kinda just left him on the floor.”

Lancer rubbed at his brow, exasperated. He did NOT have the time for Wes shenanigans. He took a quick look at Danny’s face, checking for any bleeding, satisfied when he could find none he sent the three on their way to get their names marked off before he headed back to the school building to find Wes.

“Thanks.” Danny squeezed Sam and Tucker tenderly, never wanting to let them go. He was so glad they were here, he was so glad they were alive.

“Sleepover at my place tonight.” Tucker declared. “No exceptions, there’s gonna be cuddle piles and maybe a pillow fort, but definitely lots of these.” he gave Danny a big ol’ smooch on the forehead and pulled him in for a tight hug. “You’re gonna be fine man, you’ll be okay.”

Sam jumped on and threw her arms around both her boys, pressing her lips against Danny’s cheek.

“We’re not going anywhere, okay? We’re gonna sleep right beside you and tell those fucking nightmares to fuck right off, just like last time.” Sam gave him a hearty thump on the back that might have knocked over a regular human, but Danny barely shifted.

What in Ring and Crown’s name did he ever do to deserve these two.

That night after a coma inducing amount of junk food and soft drink Danny passed out smushed between Sam and Tuck in what was pretty much the most affectionate and down right adorable Danny Sandwich either of them had ever made.

He dreamed of the three of them beating the shit out of Dan with Fenton Anti-Creep Sticks. He hadn’t slept so well in years.

Cold As Ice

Originally posted by v-writings

Peter Parker x Shy Reader

Request: Yes

Summary: After discovering their powers and wanting to save a troubled citizen, the Reader is left to dealt with the consequences, but ends up finding out a certain secret from a certain spiderling instead.

Word Count: 3,180 (omg)

Warnings: Language, cuteness, discovery of powers, fluff, fight scene, shy!Reader, *slight* assault scene, suck-ass ending (bc I’m trash and I suck at writing), (Please let me know if I missed anything).

A/N: For some reason, I had such a hard time making a summary for this ?? Hopefully the anon that requested this thinks it’s okay. :// I’m slowly moving through all my requests (I have a lot lol). Anyway, let me know what you think as always and enjoy reading!


Walking into Midtown High, you cautiously grudge towards your locker in order to get your books for today’s classes.

These past few days have been strange, to say the least.

Despite it being almost the end of the school year and the hot weather finally arriving, you somehow felt cold to your bones.

Instead of wearing short sleeves and shorts, you started dressing in sweatshirts and pants.

Maybe I’m getting sick…?

Maybe it’s just the chills…?

You kept making excuses like that, but the coldness never seemed to go away.

It’s been happening for a couple weeks now, but you didn’t know what to do.

You didn’t know what this was.

Well, not until today.

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Don’t Glamorize Overworking

After seeing the post floating around that talked about the Naruto animator that died due to overwork, I feel this needs to be said to all my followers. Stop thinking that suffering for your work is a thing you have to do. Stop thinking that working yourselves too hard is a thing you should do. Stop thinking you have to be a martyr. No job or art or book or whatever is worth suffering for.

When I was in art school I went to school full time and I also had to work a regular retail job. When I graduated from art school, I started working full time in retail while also working on comics full time. So for about I think…10 years? I regularly had 60 hour work weeks between college and 2 jobs. And I was miserable. I didn’t eat, I didn’t really sleep, I wasn’t happy. I was super underweight and got sick all the time. I really didn’t have any friends because I had no time for them. I didn’t even have time for fun. 

Fortunately I was able to leave retail and work on comics exclusively full time. So now I put strict rules on the time I spend on work each day. I’ll never work past 5 PM on any day unless it’s extremely ridiculous crunch time. (this is thankfully extremely rare) In turn I’m much better off mentally. Physically I’m much healthier. I actually have friends now and have the ability to play games or draw for fun. It doesn’t matter if you’re a working professional or student or whatever, in instances where you have the ability to take control of your schedule, DO IT. Your health is so important and sometimes it’s all you have.

I totally get that not everyone has the ability to make their own schedule, maybe you HAVE to work 60 hours because you’re on call or have a family to support or whatever. You don’t have to have complete control of your schedule in order to give yourself limits or actually allow yourself to be healthy. Just don’t glamorize overworking. Don’t feel like you have to sacrifice yourself to get something done. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. And don’t die because you felt you had to suffer to be a real artist.

anonymous asked:

I really love your writing and now I'm pan for vanderwood i hope you're happy >:3 If it's no trouble, could you please write rfa + minor trio reacting to a usually hyper and happy mc feeling really down (because they feel misunderstood or got triggered)? I hope I don't bother you with that request, I could just really use some love and care from the baes ^^;; Love and hugs, have a wonderful day!

✿  *cracks knuckles* Boy, it’s been awhile, huh? I polished off my finals a few days ago, and while I won’t be churning headcanons out at a super fast rate, I thought it was time I give this blog some TLC!

Yoosung

  • His brain goes into terror-alert mode when you don’t tackle-hug him the minute he gets home from work. Living with you is sort of like living with a hyperactive puppy, and his first thought is, oh god, are you dead? Did you slip and fall in the shower? Did aliens kidnap you and are now experimenting on your lifeless body? W h e r e a r e y o u.
  • The answer to “where are you” is “in the bedroom, having a lie-down”. He breathes a sigh of relief when you turn over and look at him, but still, that weak way you smile as you say hey leaves him concerned.
  • He immediately asks you what’s wrong. Are you feeling sick? Should he get you anything? Do you have a cold? Have you been eating enough fruit? Have you…–??
  • This manages to make you laugh a bit, and you sit up enough so you can pull him back down to the bed. You just want a hug, you say. And some comfort.
  • Yoosung is happy to oblige. After all, he’s a vet, isn’t he? He’ll always take care of you, his adorable little angel.

Zen

  • When Zen finds you staring absently out the window, his first cheer-up attempt is to call you by every pet name he knows. Starshine! Sugardrop! Love! Darling! Gooey-sweetie-snuggle-bottom hunie bear!
  • (you smack him lightly for that last one.)
  • Next, he tries every pick up line he knows. He compares your beauty to the moon shining on the lake, he recites poetry, he even sings you a little sonnet, and when he finally gets you to smile a little, he asks you what’s wrong.
  • (he wanted to make whatever it was feel a little less fresh before you talked about it, after all.)
  • He takes you on a motorcycle ride after, since that always helped distract him - though he obeys all the road laws on this one, because his precious, precious blossom is with him right now. He takes you out to one of his special places, and he helps you forget whatever it was that upset you.
  • It’s hard to be unhappy when the warm wind is on your face and a handsome man is at your side.

Jaehee

  • She finds you in the closet of the bakery, and you apologize, because you wanted to be better before she found you. You didn’t want to bother her. You know that you’re supposed to be the happy one, the cheerful one, the person rooting her on and keeping her sane when the world is building up around her.
  • She tells you that’s nonsense, brings you a cup of tea and a new cake she’s working on, and asks you to tell her what’s wrong.
  • Jaehee is so good at listening. She’s careful, attentive, and treats everything you say seriously. She never makes fun of you, or tells you that you’re overreacting or silly.
  • Jaehee would probably dropkick your problems if she could, but she can’t, so she settles for hugging you, petting your hair gently, before bringing you another drink and some of the flowers from the rosebushes outside.

Jumin

  • You try to smile at Jumin when he comes home, and you’re doing so well, but then everything cracks apart, your smile falters, and you find you’re sobbing on the couch with a baffled Jumin in the doorway.
  • He only stands still for a moment. He literally VAULTS OVER THE CHAIR because it is the FASTEST PATH TOO YOU, and if you weren’t emotionally compromised, it would have been hilarious to see this man in a ten-thousand dollar suit act like a college track star.
  • He basically scoops you up, much like you’re a cat, and he tells you to tell him e v e r y t h i n g. When you say you don’t want to trouble him, you know how much it means to him to have you waiting at home for him, all cheerful and happy, he says that is NONSENSE. It isn’t you being cheerful that makes him happy, it’s you being you that does. And sometimes you’re going to be sad.
  • And he’s going to make you feel better when you are.

707

  • Seven knows immediately that your smile is forced. How could he not? He’s faked so many smiles over his years of being alive that he’s become all-too able to recognize the same expression on someone else’s face.
  • He doesn’t want to force it out of you, so he turns off the lights suddenly, leaving the star-shaped lights you have suspended from the ceiling as the only thing illuminating the room, and then pulls you up to dance.
  • He twirls you, spins you, is surprisingly graceful with you, despite being a total and complete nerd - though, he was a former secret agent, perhaps dancing came with the job. And you don’t have to pretend, you don’t have to say anything, you just have to… dance.
  • It helps. And when he holds you, during the ‘slow dance’ portion, you tell him what’s wrong as he rubs your back gently. And then you dance some more, because the world keeps spinning, despite the trials and tribulations you have to undergo.
  • You reminded Seven that he had a future, and now it’s his turn to remind you that you have one too.

V

  • V sits with you quietly and never blames you, even though you know he’s been through so much already and shouldn’t have to deal with your shit. You should be happy! You should be cheerful! You ARE genuinely happy and cheerful most of the time, taking him on dates and bringing the world to him, but today you just… can’t.
  • You can’t. You feel guilty, but you can’t.
  • He tells you that it is not your fault. You are human. You are allowed to be sad. You tell him all these things, and the same applies to you, too. He bops your nose with his finger when you try to protest, and you lean against him, letting him hold you and gently rub your shoulder.
  • After awhile, he brings out his phone, and he shows you all of the cute animal photos he’s taken over the years. It’s hard for him now, but he has so many memories captured on his various memory cards, and he shares them with you in a quiet room and a fond voice.

Unknown (Saeran)

  • Saeran doesn’t know how to comfort you, so he makes a dozen pancakes using the container of Bisquick you have into the cabinet and then shoves one into your face like a burrito.
  • “What was that for,” you ask, after you’ve managed to chew and swallow, and he just puts another directly into your mouth, effectively using it as a fluffy batter gag.
  • You eat that one too, staring directly at him the entire time.
  • “Are you feeling better,” he asks once you’re finished, and you reply that you’re mostly just really confused. 
  • One of the websites he’d read said that making pancakes for people was an expression of love, so he figured that would be enough to make you feel better, right?
  • You eat fruit to get better from a cold, so love should help you get better when you’re sad… right?
  • Right, you say, because Saeran is a prickly moron, but somehow his deranged antics make it hard to stay depressed.

Vanderwood

  • Vanderwood is really bad at this gooey, lovey-dovey shit, so when they notice you don’t have quite as much pep in your step as usual, they aren’t really sure what to do. They do know, however, that they should do something, so they decide to tell you a joke.
  • “Knock knock,” they say, and you do a bit of a double-take, because Vanderwood isn’t really the type. But you’re intrigued enough that it momentarily distracts you from what’s making you gloomy, so you ask, “Who’s there?”
  • “Etch.”
  • “…Etch… who?”
  • “Bless you,” they say, in a perfectly flat voice, and you laugh at how stupid it is.
  • “Knock knock,” they say again, hands in their pockets, and you’re delighted at this point.
  • “Who’s there?”
  • “Seven.”
  • “Seven who?”
  • They clear your throat. “Seven, you motherfucker, you know I don’t speak Arabic, so open your goddamn door.”
  • (You cover your face and snort.)
  • “Knock knock,” they say a third time, and you notice they look a bit shyer now.
  • “Who’s there?”
  • “Al.”
  • “Al who?”
  • “Al…” They rub their mouth, averting their eyes. “….Al give you a kiss if you open the door.”
  • You, sufficiently cheered up by this ridiculous display, peck them on the lips and thank them for being wonderfully embarrassing.
Better Than Medicine (ALiL Deleted Scene)

Summary: (College!AU) In which you have to figure out what to do when Bucky falls asleep on you and you’re hungry.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1,769

A/N: @kjs-s requested “Could i please ask for one after the get together chapter in which the reader and Bucky fell asleep on the couch and she wakes up to Steve and Sam having breakfast and commenting on how great of a nurse she is?” I altered the request a bit and it occurs between “The Get Together” and “The First Date”.

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist + Soundtrack

@avengerstories - forever grateful that you’re my editing partner in crime

Originally posted by wenellyb

By the time the end credits start rolling on Aladdin, Bucky is fast asleep. His arm is curled over your thighs, his face is pressed against the pillow in your lap and his soft snores mix in with the instrumental music playing on the TV. The sleeve of crackers you had instructed him to eat lies empty on the ground along with a second one. Although he refused to admit it out loud, you know he underestimated how hungry he was.

Speaking of underestimating hunger, you can hear your stomach begging you to get some food in your system. You didn’t think to grab a snack when you grabbed crackers for Bucky. Then again, you weren’t anticipating that he’d fall asleep while using you as a pillow.

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Late Dinner

Originally posted by bwiseoks

MATURE

Yoongi spends the majority of his time cooped up in his studio. He sleeps there as often as he can get away with, he eats most of his meals there, he hangs most of his clothes there. Most of your dates tend to take place in or very near his studio. You get takeout and watch anime on his laptop or you go to the café down the street.

And, although you technically live together, most of the time you feel as if you live alone.

But most of the time, you don’t particularly mind it. It’s nice to have your space while Yoongi has his. You can spread out your things in the living room and blare music while you work or you can cover the bed in papers as you pretend to get work done instead of watching TV.  Whatever work you need to get done at home, you can get it done without worrying about disturbing him or having him disturb you.

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Stay Away | Zach Dempsey x Reader (ft. Monty Dela Cruz)

Genre: Angst, Romance
POV: Reader’s/First Person
Warning: Containg swearing, violence and sexual harrasment!!

A/N: This was personally hard for me to write, but it was requested. It’s a bit heavy and it’s not the usual fluffy write-up you guys often get from me. Nonetheless, I will be posting a new fluff piece tomorrow, so stay tuned! Meanwhile, I hope you guys like this for now.

Request: Hai, I was wondering if you could do an imagine where Zach and his girlfriend (the reader) are hanging out and he despite her trying to hide them he sees a bunch of bruises on her and gets really worried and mad asking her what happened only for her to tell him that Montgomery had beat her up in a drunken state because she refused to sleep with him. This causes Zach to get mad and go beat him up and threatening him to never go near the reader again.

—–

Zach and I were watching TV when he suddenly said he was hungry. I pout at him and sigh as a response as I got up from the sofa and make my way to the kitchen to quickly cook something up. Zach was feeling a bit hungover after yesterday and he loved being treated like a baby whenever he was sick. I took out 2 bowls of instant ramen to satisfy his hunger.

I held onto the sleeves of my sweater while leaning on the kitchen counter as I waited for the water to boil. The incident from Jessica’s party last night replayed in my mind once again. Zach would flip if he knew and I didn’t want to ruin Zach and Monty’s friendship. Besides, Monty was just drunk, I think to myself, he was just intoxicated and didn’t know what he was doing. But it still wasn’t an excuse, I continue to think. The incident scared me, Monty, scared me.

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