i have no idea what this dress thing is called

Some Things Are Meant to Be

NurseyDex, 7100 words, Rated Teen, AU, Fake Relationship, Meet Cute, Wedding, Fluff (here on AO3)

“You want another one?” Will yelled, and Chris made some sort of loud, affirmative noise from the living room.

Will took a second beer from the fridge, balancing both in one hand while he grabbed a container of guac with the other. He slammed the fridge door shut with his hip but misjudged the necessary force, and several papers affixed to the front floated to the ground.

“Fuck,” he muttered. He set everything on the counter and crouched down, picking up the notice about his rent going up, his reminder card for his dentist appointment yesterday, and—shit.

Will plopped down on his ass, staring down in horror at the piece of heavy cardstock in his hand. Goddamn, he can’t believe that he forgot.

“Hey, what happened to that—shit. What’s wrong? What’s that?”

Will looked up at Chris, who circled the breakfast bar and sat down in front of him. He vaguely waved the paper. “An invitation. To my ex’s wedding. It’s…it was hidden on my fridge. I forgot about it.”

“Do you still love her or something? Is this an existential crisis type of situation?”

Will rolled his eyes. “No, definitely not. But I said I was bringing someone, back when I got the invitation, and I totally forgot. It’s on Saturday.”

“And you don’t wanna go alone?”

Will made a face. “Not after I RSVP’d with a plus-one. She’s still an ex, you know? Not that you would know anything about that,” he added dryly, and Chris grinned.

“You’re just jealous of me and Cait.”

“True,” Will murmured. He stared down at the invitation and sighed. “I guess I could text her and pretend to be sick or something.”

“No, you can’t do that!” Chris plucked the invitation from his hand. “Just pretend to be dating someone and bring them.”

Will lifted his eyebrows at him. “Uh, that’s not an actual thing that people do.”

“You don’t know that!” Chris protested, and Will snorted.

“Oh, yeah? And where exactly am I supposed to find a fake boyfriend?”

Chris grinned. “So I have this friend from college.”

“Yeah, and?”

“Yeah, and I bet he’ll do it. He’d totally be down for something like this. Here, I’ll text him right now,” he said, raising his voice over the sound of Will’s seemingly-fruitless protests. He dug his phone out of his back pocket and spoke slowly as he typed. “Hey dude, you wanna pretend to be the boyfriend of my friend from work for a wedding? Saturday night.”

Will groaned, bracing his elbows on his knees as he buried his head in his hands. “Chris, you can’t just—”

“He said yes,” Chris reported, staring down at his phone, and Will’s jaw dropped.

“Are you serious?”

He scooted around to sit next to Chris, who helpfully tilted his phone so Will could see the message. Sure. He cute?

Very, Chris wrote back, and Will grimaced. “Don’t—don’t oversell it, jeez.”

“You’re super hot, Will, deal with it.”

“Is he cute?”

“Very,” Chris repeated, and Will snorted. “I’m giving him your number. His name’s Derek, by the way.”

Will sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I have a feeling that I’m going to regret this.”

“Worst case scenario, you’ll have a great story to tell.” Chris got to his feet and held a hand out to Will to haul him up. “Grab those beers, third period’s about to start.”

Hey, sugarplum.

I don’t think I could keep a straight face if someone called me sugarplum in public.

Ok, strike that one from the list. Lovebug?

Just my name is fine. Which is Will.

And this whole thing was Chris’s idea, btw.

Oh, I have no doubt.

I just wanted to feign illness.

But this will be way more fun!

Yeah? You pretend to be people’s boyfriend often?

Nah, you’re popping my cherry.


Ok, what did I say about that.

This is gonna be fun. So where’s this wedding? Saturday, right?

Yeah. Brooklyn Botanic Garden

Ooh nice. Dress code?

Suit, no tux. Should we meet up beforehand?

You know that random bar/bakery @ Union/Franklin? Wanna meet there?

Great. 6:30?

Awesome. See you then, studmuffin.

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So let me see if I’ve got this right.  The 1950 Cinderella gown looked like this:

And the 2015 live action adaptation altered the style of the neckline, put butterflies all over it, removed the floofy things (I am not a design major, I have no idea what they’re called) from her skirt, changed the color from very pale whitish-blue to very deep blue with an iridescent purple/blue/silver skirt, and put her hair down, and that’s all fine.

But the dress Emma Watson designed for Beauty and the Beast took this:

And made it into this:

And this is beyond the pale because why exactly?

Last I checked, everyone was hating this movie for being “just the cartoon all over, but with live actors” and loving Emma Watson for speaking her mind about what she believes in.  But suddenly change is bad if it’s something you personally enjoyed and also Emma Watson’s an idiot who ought to shut up and stop stealing the job of costume designers.


Let That Liquor Ride

Originally posted by groovyroom

Let That Liquor Ride
[DPRLive at a bar]

yeah wait hold up
let that liquor ride
baby love the way you chillin

Christian sighed rolling his eyes as Dabin stared at you from across the floor. You were waiting by the bar with your friends after Live’s set finished. You’d been nursing the same drink all night, occasionally you’d catch Dabin staring at you and you couldn’t help but to smile and look away shyly.

Christian had fallen victim to your little game of cat and mouse and had grown tired of it. “Please ask her out already. Mate you’re drivin’ me insane over this”

“I will…” Dabin mumbled downing back the rest of his liquor. “I will…I’ll ask her out…” he stood up, squaring his shoulders before immediately losing his nerves and sitting back down. “After one more drink” he reached out as the waitress walked by and grabbed another glass of alcohol.

“You’re pathetic. Come on. What are you waiting for? She’s been to every single one of your shows this month. You know she’s into you.”

“It’s not that simple Hyung… She's…”

“Pretty hot and out of your league?”

“Yeah…” he frowned losing what little nerve he had.

“Invite her and her friend up here. Maybe she’ll ask you out.”

“I can’t just ask her up here. What does that look like? Hey, do you wanna come to the VIP area with me? That just makes it look like I’m trying to make a move on her.”

“You are trying to make a move!” Christian groaned raking his hand through his hair. “You are literally trying to ask her out. And if I have to sit here and watch you ogle her for another night I’m gonna ask her out myself. And trust me Mate, it won’t be for your benefit”

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Fair Play

Marvel Writing Challenge: redgillan vs. girl-next-door-writes

Prompt: Corn Maze

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1,861

Tags: Language, Violence, Fluff

Originally posted by mcuvillainsdaily

It was Hell on Earth.

People were screaming everywhere, but it was nothing compared to the loud squeaking noise of the machines and the reeking, hot scent of butter and sugar. The fair…, you shivered.

Families and groups of friends were happily running around, making you feel dizzy as you tried to find your target. You wanted to push everyone out of your way, but instead you dodged between them. You stopped to have a good look around at your surroundings, turning on yourself in the crowd.

Soon people started to raise eyebrows as they walked past you, their eyes scanned you from head to toe. You rolled your eyes, choosing to focus on your mission rather than their sly smirks.

Yes, you were wearing a tight spandex black suit, so what? It was your battle outfit and it made you feel confident and strong. The kind of feelings that make saving the world a bit less stressful.

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Relax - Ch. 1

Originally posted by bitterstan

Yoongi x Yoga Instructor!reader

Chapter I

Warnings: none yet

Word Count: 2,297

Summary: Teaching yoga was something you enjoyed, it made you relaxed and feel in control of yourself and your life. In comes Yoongi, the one that turned it all upside down.

A/N: this is going to be a chaptered fic! please leave me your thoughts, and as always, my ask box is open! ♥

This was the last thing you expected when walking into work today.

“You have private lessons. Sorry, but no one else would take it.” your boss and the owner of the yoga studio you worked at told you with an apologetic smile. No one liked private lessons, yea they may be quieter and simpler, but the people usually getting them are more often than not spoiled, conceited, or both. You sighed and tied up your hair as you headed to the staff change rooms to get ready for what would surely be a draining day.

Pulling your outfit from your locker, you quickly got out of your streetwear and into the black yoga pants and cropped tank top that read ‘STAFF’ on the back. You checked your watch and realized class starts in less that five minutes, giving you barely any time to grab equipment, water, and stretch. Normally you would come up with a lesson plan before class started, but since you were low on time you decided to see what your pupil’s fitness and skill levels were first.

After you shuffled through your work playlist for a song, you dimmed the lights and started stretching. Getting into a couple simple yet relaxing positions to ease your stress. As you were in the Downward Dog, eyes closed and deep breaths entering your lungs, you heard the door slowly creak open. You slowly opened your eyes, and turned your head towards the entrance of the darkened room.

“Hi, come take a seat, I’m your instructor y/n.” You smiled up at the man who walked in, noting the nervous air about him as he sat on the mat in front of you, moving to sit cross-legged. As he sat down, you noticed his sharp features and pouty lips. The stranger’s midnight black hair was messy and you had the sudden urge to run your fingers through it. The sound of a cough brought you out of your thoughts, and you promptly went back into your teaching mode.

“What’s your name, and what made you take these lessons?” you asked the man in front of you softly, meeting his piercing gaze. 

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Your name: submit What is this?

One year ago - At School:

<<After Tyler Lockwood broke up with you, you became a loner at your School, no one wanted to be around you anymore. Tyler started to tell lies about you, to make it seem like he was the victim. But one guy stayed by your side through everything, Jeremy Gilbert.>>

“Hey, what are you doing out here alone? Shouldn’t you be with your boyfriend and all your friends?” A guy said, smirking at you, “Oh I’m sorry, I’m Jeremy, Jeremy Gilbert.” He laughed while holding his hand out.

“And shouldn’t you be with some punks, stoned out of your mind at some cemetery?” You replied. “I’m Y/N.” you laughed softly.

“I know who you are.” he smiled “Is this seat taken?” He asked smiling.

“Only for a punk like you.” You grinned.

“You heard that smoking thing huh? I thought I’d be too much of a “loser” for you to even know me.”

“I’m not like the others,” you had to laugh. “Well, that is exactly what the others would say. Ehm, hm okay, first, everyone knows about that and second, I don’t care about that. I think you had your reasons.. but Vicki isn’t really a good influence.” you said, looking him in the eyes.

“well, I  stopped smoking, and yes, you are right. She’s not. But you still haven’t answered my question. Why are you here alone? I mean, everyone wants to be around you.” Jeremy said.

“Well, Tyler broke up with me, and before I started dating him, I  was kind of a Loser too.” you laughed softly. “It’s not as bad as it looks. Now I know who my true friends really are.” you tried to smile.

“Hey Y/N? I don’t mean to be too forward, but you want to get out of here and go watch a movie?” Jeremy asked you with a smile.

“I’d love to.” you smiled back.


Two weeks before prom - At Jeremy’s:

“So how are you gonna ask her?” Elena asked her younger Brother while they were in the kitchen trying to cook dinner.

“What are you talking about?” Jeremy said, while trying to hide his grin.

“You should do something special. Prom night is your one year thingy right.”

“How do you know that?” Jeremy asked his sister.

“Caroline told me, you do realize she knows everything, right?”

“Its like she’s everywhere.” he replied. “Its kinda creepy. You have some very  creepy friends Elena.” Jeremy laughed.

“I know.” Elena laughed as she set the table. “And hey, your girlfriend is one of my friends too you know.” She continued to laugh at her brother.

“Yes, buuut she was my girlfriend before she was your friend.” Jeremy responded while laughing.


One week before prom - At your home:

You were sitting next to Matt in your history class, waiting for the teacher, when Jeremy walked into the room.

“Hey Y/N, what are you doing tonight?” He asked and kissed you before you could answer. “Good, I’ll pick you up at 9 pm, bye love.” he smiled and walked back out the door.

“What the hell was that?” you laughed at Matt.

“I have no idea.” he replied smiling and shrugged his shoulders.



“I’m sure, he hasn’t forgotten about you.” Your big sister told you.


“See? What did I tell you?” She smiled at you and you smiled back.

You didn’t know what your boyfriend had planned so you just put a summer dress on, in hopes it’d be okay for tonight. Usually, around this time you two would be lying in his bed, cuddling, kissing, and other things like that…

“Y/N.” your mom called. “It’s Jeremy!”

“Okay! I’m coming.” you replied and walked downstairs to your door.

“You look beautiful.” Jeremy said and kissed your cheek. “Sorry for being so late.”

“Awh thank you baby. It’s okay, it took me forever to figure out what to wear anyway.” you smiled. “Bye Mom.”


“So where are we going?” you smiled at him while you two were hand in hand walking down the street.

“It’s a surprise.”


At the School - In the Sports hall:

“What are we doing here? And why is there light in the Sports hall?” you asked him confused and slightly afraid.

“Come on, lets take a look.” he said and grabbed your hand. “But you have to wear this.” Jeremy laughed.

“A blindfold?” you asked. “Why?”

“Do you trust me? He replied with his cute puppy look. You nodded, so Jeremy continued to wrap the blindfold over your eyes.


"1-2-3, okay, you can open your eyes now.”

“Oh my god, Jeremy.” you smiled at him.

The sports hall was beautifully decorated with your favorite flowers, Tulips,  and balloons everywhere. There was punch for you two to drink, and a ton of finger foods to snack on, looked as if it would have been enough for a party. Jeremy stood next to you, still holding your hand while you admired the hall.

“Now.” Jeremy said and you looked at him confused.

“What is going on?” you laughed.

And then hundreds of pictures of you and Jeremy dropped to the floor (You loved taking pictures with him.), and the first picture you took with him, you both were Ice Skating, it was the largest one, sitting in the middle of the hallway. Jeremy stood in front of you while you had tears in your eyes.

“Y/N? Would you go to prom with me?” Jeremy asked you with a smile, holding your Hands.

“Yes! Of course! Yes!” you said as you jumped in his arms.

“I love you.” he whispered in your ear. It was the first time that he ever said it.

“I love you too, Jeremy.”

“I think she said yes, sooo LET THE  BEFORE PROM PARTY START!” Caroline yelled.

And when she said that, everyone who helped Jeremy with all this, came out of their hiding places and danced to the music that your big sister turned on.  

“Wanna dance?” Jeremy asked and took your hand and dragged you to the dance floor.

“People are dancing on our faces.” you smirked, making Jeremy laugh. “Thank you for everything, Jeremy. This is amazing.”

“Of course. Anything for you hun.” Jeremy said, as he leaned in to kiss you one more time.


This Story is one of my oldests and it got rewritten by my lovely @star-gazer178​ <3

Be a dad. Don’t be ‘Mom’s assistant.’ That’s depressing, just waiting for her to write you a list, walk around a store staring at it, calling her from the cereal aisle to make sure you got the right thing. Be a man. Make your own list. Fathers have skills that they never use at home. You run a landscaping business and you can’t dress and feed a 4-year-old? Take it on. Spend time with your kids and have your own ideas about what they need. It won’t take away your manhood; it will give it to you. I did that. I spent more time with my kids. And I found out that I’m a pretty bad father. I make a lot of mistakes and I don’t know what I’m doing. But my kids love me. Go figure.
—  Louis CK

kitten-or-cat  asked:

Could I please ask for a Dean scenario? (preferably fluff)😊

Bonnie and Clyde

Pairing: Reader x Dean

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1140

Summary: You promised to meet Dean at the drive in theater for your first date, but you forgot you had another boring commitment that same night. You tend to have a dramatic way of going about things. 

   Here I am… Sitting here with a blind date I completely forgot about until he called, instead of doing what I hoped to be doing tonight, with the person I hoped to be with.

   It was my best friend’s idea to get me a blind date, and it was my date’s idea to invite his snooty friends. So here I am in a casual green cotton dress and adidas, while these people are sitting across from me in designer shoe, suits and dresses…

   They talk about things incomprehensible to me; not for them being too complicated, but rather too boring. They brag about their most recent car, or gossip about the most recent celebrity scandal.

   I would much rather be with him right now…

   Hyuk and I had been playing a long back and forth game of flirting with each other, so I was quite surprised when he straight up asked me out.

   “I-I…. I’m sorry Hyukie I must’ve not heard you right? What was that?”

   He flushes slightly but still keeps his chill composure. “I asked if you wanted to go see a movie with me? At the drive in theatre? They’re doing a showing of old movies, and “Bonnie and Clyde” is playing at 10:00 pm… So..”

   I giggle a bit. He’s so frickin cute, does he even realize it? “Hmm, “Bonnie and Clyde” eh?  I think that sounds doable.”

   “Yeah?” He says with a relieved smile.

   “Yeah.” I say back with a smile, and we lock eyes. His gaze is so comforting…

   “A-Alright then,” He looks away smiling harder and grabs his stuff. “I’ll see you there then?”

   “Yes Hyukie, you can count on it.” I say with a confident smile.” He gives a bright eye smile and takes off.

   Yet, It’s 9:57 pm. And I’m sitting here not even participating in the conversation. I completely forgot about this commitment in the first place, so that goes to show you how ‘excited’ I was about it. They’re not even looking at me…

   What… What am I doing here exactly? The drive in theatre is only walking distance from here…

   I have the most perfect guy waiting for me at a drive in theatre, and I’m sitting here with a bunch of snooty strangers in a stuffy restaurant.

   What would Hyuk say if he saw me right now? Sitting here, so out of place…

   Suddenly I start to hear the tune of Hyuk’s “Bonnie and Clyde” playing in my head, and it grows louder, and louder, until all of the boring small talk surrounding me is drowned out.

   I want us to be more than friends… So again… What I am I doing sitting here…?

   I stand up and the napkin lying on my lap slides down and to the  floor. I look down at them and see for the first time this night, they’re actually looking my way. “I’m leaving.” I state boldly.

   My blind date’s friend speaks lowly but loud enough that I can hear him, “She’s the rebellious kind, hm? Don’t worry, not your type anyway.” I see my blind date look a little annoyed but not hurt.

   I start to run out of the restaurant, but I turn around and run back a little. I’m technically ditching him without any explanation, so I feel the need to say something more. I look him in the eye and can only think of one appropriate comment.

   “I’m sorry.” I quietly tell him. But all the while I can’t stop the anxious grin from spreading across my face. Nah, I’m not sorry.

   I’m going to make it Hyuk.

   I run out and onto the street, happy I wore comfortable shoes. I giddily run up the evening street, passing underneath street lamps, and bypassing small business neon signs. I can’t stop smiling, and jubilant little laughs escape my mouth. Just the thought of getting to see him has me acting on such childish impulses, and brimming with innocent joy.

   I see the corner need to make it to the drive in theatre, and I cut the corner sharply trying to make good time. I see it, and I run even faster, knowing I’ll have to take a moment when I get there to catch my breath. It seems as though the movie has only just started, but there are so many cars pulled into the theatre. I feel like crying out in frustration.

   Then I get a crazy idea. Kind of dramatic too I might add.

   I run through all of the cars, and step up on the stage. Not feeling any fear at all, only focusing on finding Hyuk, I step in front of the giant projection screen. Although I’m not big enough to block a good portion of the film, I am noticed, and people start to yell. All I can do is rapidly dart my eyes around though, trying to make sure the one person I want to see me does.

   Almost dead ahead I see someone else stand up, and hear more yelling from the cars behind them. When a lighter scene starts to play behind me on the screen than the previous one, I break out into a goofy smile. It’s Hyuk, and he’s chuckling to himself.

   I run ahead to his car, and bear hug him. “I almost didn’t make it, but I’m here!” I quietly exclaim.

   He laughs and shyly hugs me back. “Y’know Y/N, you certainly have a flair for the dramatic.”

   I pull away and sit in the passenger side of the car, and Hyuk follows suit getting in the driver’s side. “Who me? That doesn’t sound right.” I say and give him a sarcastic smirk. “I just have a different way of doing things. You saw me right? And I saw you. That’s all I really cared about honestly.”

   He laughs heartily yet quietly, and looks at me with a gentleness that I always find alluring. He interlaces our fingers, and I look up to find we’re both blushing. “I’m glad you’re here..” He says and caresses my cheek.

   I look down shyly smiling, and place my free hand on top of his. “I am too… Hyukkie?”

   “Mmm?” He hums contently.

   “What are we…? Are we… More than friends?” I ask a little nervous.

   I look up and Hyuk looks vulnerable for a moment. His eyes were wide, and his cheeks flushed. He looks down at our interlaced fingers, and brings our hands up to kiss the back of mine. “We’re whatever you wanna be baby.”

   My heart leaps at the new endearment, and I leave it at that knowing I have nothing to worry about. I lay my head down upon his shoulder and look up at the screen to see the old movie playing in front of us, as the stars gleam above us.

I hoped you liked it!!  This was my first time officially writing for this angel, and seeing as how you’re a Dean stan I was scared of ruining this lol… So I’m sorry if he seems ooc! I was inspired to do this kind of dramatic scene after watching La La Land <3 (I have an issue with putting a bunch of song references in my writing as you can see XD)

Downton Abbey: Sybil Crawley – INFP

See also this post about Sybil, as well as my other Downton Abbey typings (so far).

Fi: The first impressions we get of Sybil are of her kindness and empathy (She defends Edith’s crying after Patrick’s funeral, tries to reassure Mary (“I know you’re sad about Patrick. Whatever you say, I know it.”), and she makes it her mission to help Gwen find a job as a secretary.). We also get to see her valuing morals early on, first through gentle remonstrations to her sisters (Mary: “I was only going to marry him if nothing better turned up.”, Sybil: “Mary, what a horrid thing to say.”, “You shouldn’t laugh, that’s so unkind.” (about Mary and Edith likening Matthew to a sea monster)), but then also by giving her opinion freely and being perfectly honest about things (“Of course it is [worth it], because of the people who will live in them.” (about Robert and Matthew restoring houses in the village), “I know this is hard for you to grasp, but I’m not there to go out to dinner. I’m there to learn.”, “He is a person. He can discuss other things.”, “I’m nor eloping like a thief in the night. I might have once, but Mary and Edith talked me out of it.”). She has a deep interest in helping others and doing good (“Because it’s the gloomy things that need our help. If everything in the garden’s sunny, why meddle?”), and she is passionately immersed in her causes (“Papa, I’m sorry I disobeyed you, but I’m interested. I’m political. I have opinions.”, “Blame me.”, “I will not give him up!”). Others often mention her gentleness when describing her (Isobel: “Her innocence will protect her.”, Mrs Hughes: “The sweetest spirit under this roof has gone.”, Thomas: “In my life I can tell you not many have been kind to me. She was one of the few.”, Mrs Hughes: “She was a sweet, kind person. And a real beauty. Inside and out.”, Gwen: “Her kindness changed my life.”), but also her single-mindedness (Matthew: “I admire Sybil’s passion, though.”, O’Brien: “So, Lady Sybil got off all right in the end. I’m afraid we have to admit, she knows what she wants.” Cora: Yes. She certainly does.”, Mary: “We can’t leave all the moral high ground to Sybil. She might get lonely there.”, “But I am sure! How many times do I have to say it?”, Anna: “Aren’t I as strong as Lady Sybil?”, Mary: “Sybil’s the strong one. She really doesn’t care what people think, but I’m afraid I do.”, Branson: “There aren’t many as free as my Sybil.”). She’s sensitive and quick to take offence at indirect or implied criticism (“What do you want from me? Am I to see if Sir Richard Carlisle has a younger brother? One who’s even richer than he is?”, “Appropriate for whom?”, “I don’t deserve to be told off. Not by her or by you.”, “Perhaps. But we do have feelings and don’t make the mistake of thinking we don’t.”). As she always gives 100% of herself into something, she desires the same whole-heartedness from others (“Then be on my side!”).

Ne: Sybil enjoys the idea of something (“I think it’s romantic.”, “Why, Granny, you’re a romantic.”) and has no trouble in seeing possibilities everywhere, which she often uses to cheer other people up (“Then we must be ready by tomorrow, mustn’t we?”, “You’ll see. We’re not giving up. No one hits the bull’s eye with the first arrow.”, “Then I’m a fool for I’m a long way from being beaten yet.”, “Then that’s why we must stick together. Your dream is my dream now, and I’ll make it come true.”, “But have you filled the post yet? Because I know just the woman.”, “Trust me, you have a talent that none of the rest of us have. Just find out what it is and use it.”, “But you believed in him, whoever he was, and that’s worth something.”). She’s often frustrated at other people being unable to think outside the box (“Women must get the vote, mustn’t they, Branson? Why does the prime minister resist the inevitable?”, “Why will we only have officers? Surely all wounded men need to convalesce.”, Mary: “The chauffeur? Branson?” Sybil: “Oh, how disappointing of you.”, “But I’m not giving up my world! They want to give me up. That’s their affair. I’m perfectly happy to carry on being friends with everyone.”). She usually believes the best of people (“I expect Mary was just showing the duke the house, weren’t you?”) and isn’t prejudiced against them because of social rules (for example, she tries to defend Matthew from her sisters when he first arrives). She is excited with new ideas that are congruent with her values (Fi-Ne), seen in her enthusiasm to help Gwen (“I think it’s terrific that people make their own lives, especially women.”), her interest in politics and feminism, even in her love for Tom Branson (“That I’m ready to travel…and you are my ticket.”). They also help her when she’s feeling down (for example when Isobel cheers her up by suggesting to train as a nurse and learn new things, like cooking.) She often challenges the status quo and doing things in a certain way just because it is done like that (“But nobody learns anything from a governess apart from French and how to curtsy.”, “I don’t know why we bother with corsets. Men don’t wear them and they look perfectly normal in their clothes.”). She takes her inspirations from the world around her and is constantly comparing situations and ideas in her head (for example she has the idea for Gwen to fake being ill in order to go to her interview from Anna having been ill the day before, and she is inspired to give Tom her final answer by Matthew and Lavinia announcing their marriage.). Since she seeks meaning in everything, she doesn’t value things without seeing a point to them (Ne-Te) (“But what is the point of Mama’s soirees? What are they for?”).

Si: Though fascinated by new ideas, Sybil prefers to mix novelty with the familiar, and in details – for example with her “new frock” (“Can it be my choice this time?“, Edith: “What do you want her to make?” Sybil: “Something new and exciting.”, “Is there anything more thrilling than a new frock?”). She knows her family well enough to not expect support in her political interests (“I knew you wouldn’t approve.”), and thus keeps her visiting political events a secret. She is also bitter about them wanting to return to the state of things before the war (Sybil always is completely immersed in the present: Branson: “So you wouldn’t go back? To your life before the war?” Sybil: “No. No, I can never go back to that.”, “But I just can’t think about it all until the war is over. It won’t be long now. So, will you wait?”, “They were sighing for the old days at dinner, but all I could do was think about how much more I want from life now than I did then.”, “I don’t want to get used to it.”). She pretends not to feel the parting when she goes to train as a nurse, but once she is alone in the car, she starts to cry, and she tells Branson that it’s hard for her to let go (“It’ll be hard to let you go, my last link with home.”). She also admits to him that she finds it hard to break away from her old world (“You say I’m a free spirit, and I hope I am. But you’re asking me to give up my whole world and everyone in it.”), and her meditation on whether or not she loves Branson takes two years. After her hasty decision to elope with him, she is quickly persuaded by Mary and Edith to return to Downton and to pursue a more open and gradual (Fi-Si) way of change (“I don’t like deceit and our parents don’t deserve it. So, I’ll go back with them.”). She also gets suddenly uncomfortable when Branson enters the drawing-room to let them know about their engagement (“I don’t think this is such a good idea. We mustn’t worry Granny.”). She’s also uncomfortable with Branson causing conflict after their return to Downton and tries to smooth things over (“Please don’t talk about Ireland all the time. I just want to make things easier for you.”).

Te: Seen in her need to take action in order to help others (as with Gwen), and later explored in her growing need for “real” work (“I want to do a real job. Real work.”, “I know what it is to work now. To have a full day, to be tired in a good way. I don’t want to start dress fittings or paying calls or standing behind the guns.”), Sybil is always searching for a task in order to feel useful and to have a purpose (“I just feel so useless.”, “but I feel useful for the first time in my life, and that must be a good thing.”). She also advises Edith to seek work as a remedy for her low spirits (“It’s doing nothing that’s the enemy.”). She is soft-spoken and kind, but she gets blunt and outspoken when it comes to her opinions and decisions. She is unapologetic about her values (“If you mean do I think women should have the vote, of course I do.”, “But I don’t acknowledge it. You want me to give up the man I love for a system I don’t believe in. Where’s the sense in that?”), and when really angry, she gets aggressive and tends to be harsh and extreme (“If you punish Branson, I’ll never speak to you again, never!”, “But if I find tomorrow that Branson is missing, I’ll run away, I warn you.” […] “Well, I can’t think now, but I will go, and you’ll be sorry.”, “I don’t want any money and you can hardly lock me up until I die!”). She longs to live her feelings and values, finding satisfaction in an “all or nothing”-attitude (“It is drastic. There’s no going back once I’ve done it, but that’s what I want. No going back.”, Branson: “You won’t mind burning your bridges?”, Sybil: “Mind? Fetch me the matches!”). She also has a streak of sarcasm (“Well, bully for that.”, “Am I so weak you believe I could be talked out of giving my heart in five minutes flat?”) and sass (“Then she can jolly well wait.” (about Violet), “Hear, hear!” (to Anna’s opinion on suffragettes), “Good evening, everyone.” (showing off her trousers), “Really, Branson, I thought I gave the orders.”, Edith: “I shan’t sleep a wink.” Sybil: “Tonight or tomorrow.” Violet: “Sybil, vulgarity is no substitute for wit.” Sybil: “Well, you started it.”). Since Te is her inferior function, it makes her prone to precipitous action (seen for example in her elopement with Branson, or “Everyone knows that [how to fill a kettle]).


Genre: Angst

Pair: Yoongi x Reader

Word Count: 1905

Summary: In which Yoongi gets drunk and asks for you.

Originally posted by talk-me-down-troye

It had been two months since I last saw him. Two months since he broke up with me under the pretense that I was too innocent and he, for some reason, would only ruin my life if he stayed with me. It had hurt. I had cried. I had questioned and wondered why he had even bothered to initiate the relationship if this was the outcome. I wondered if every pretty thing he said to me was a lie and if he ever even cared for me at all. I drank too much. I went out when I shouldn’t have. I let my life get out of control.

But then, one day, it stopped.

The pain disappeared; he didn’t frequent my thoughts. I could go a whole day without thinking about him or wondering what he was doing and if he missed me. I had stopped missing him. Life moved on. I was happy.

Then in the middle of my night shift at the book store, I had gotten a text.

It was from his best friend and the message, at first, made my entire body go numb.

He’s been drunk for hours; we can’t get him off the floor. He keeps asking for you

I debated responding, wondering if I was only hurting myself if I decided to go. But the second text made up my mind for me.

Please. He’s been a mess for months. He needs to see you.

The easier task was figuring out where he was. Outside his favorite bar not too far from where I worked. Getting myself out of my work’s parking lot was the harder task. My hands gripped the steering wheel until my joints hurt; my engine running but my foot firmly placed on the floor of my car. I hadn’t cried yet but my heart jackhammered inside my chest. I felt like I was going to be sick.

Fifteen minutes later I found myself on the familiar road leading up to the bar. The parking lot was almost empty even though it was only 11 at night and I found the three bodies huddled together over a lump on the floor almost as soon as I pulled in. At some point he had probably been resting against his friends’ car but now it seemed he just wanted to lie down.

I pulled up into the spot next to them and killed my engine still wondering if what I was doing was the right thing. I knew it wasn’t going to work out well for me no matter how the night turned out. He was drunk, I no doubt would cry, and nothing would really get resolved.

Still, I got out of my car.

His friends greeted me with troubled expressions as I slowly walked up to their group but I couldn’t even look at them when I saw him. He was a ruined mess, drunkenly passed out on the gravel of the parking lot. It was a pathetic sight but it still hurt to see him so destroyed.

“How long has he been like this?” I managed to ask.

The eldest of their group scratched his head. “He’s been drunk all day but he passed out about ten minutes ago. The bar called us to come get him and we made it this far but then he just…gave up.”

I listened to his words while watching the face of the man who broke my heart. If I was vengeful, I would laugh and walk away while wishing his friends luck. If I was petty, I may even give my unconscious ex a slap. But my heart still stuttered for him. I wasn’t over it yet.

Slowly, I crouched down next to his still body and gently ran my hand through his dark hair. He had recently dyed it black, its natural color, and it was so soft. I remembered the nights I spent running my hands through it as he slept. He said it was his favorite thing. Even now as an unconscious, drunken mess, he still quietly moaned at the sensation and ever so slightly pushed his head closer to my hand.

“Yoongi,” I whispered into his ear. He shifted a little, more groans escaping his lips as he slowly came back to consciousness. “Yoongi I need you to get up.”

“Is this a joke?” he croaked, his words slurring a bit.

I cocked my head to one side. “Is what a joke?”

“You’re not really here.” He kept his eyes firmly closed.

My hands continued to run through his hair. “I’m here, Yoongi. I need you to open your eyes.”

“Why would you be here?” he went on.

“You called for me, remember?” I tugged at the ends of his hair a little hoping that maybe some pain would cause him to grow alert.

It didn’t work. He swatted my hand away and curled further onto his side. I spared a glance to his friends and shook my head at a loss for how to get him up. Namjoon crouched down next to me and smacked his shoulder.

“Hey, we got her here because you wouldn’t shut up about it. Now she’s here and you’re ignoring her!” he raised his voice in mock anger. He was worried for his friend. I was worried, too.

“Liar!” Yoongi screamed as he shot up from his position almost knocking me and Namjoon off our feet. He glared at his friend, or tried to with droopy lids. “She wouldn’t come see me even if I was dead.”

He fell back against the car, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He either hadn’t seen me yet or assumed I was some hallucination from the alcohol because he didn’t acknowledge my presence at all. Namjoon noticed this too and anxiously looked towards me. I looked back, scared to speak. Did I want his attention? Did I want him to realize I was real? Did I have a choice?

“Stop being so dramatic,” I spoke up, “I’d at least come for the free food.”

At the sound of my voice, Yoongi’s eyes flicked towards me but the reaction died there. How drunk was he?

“Why are you haunting me?”

I was stunned by his denial.

“Yoongi, I’m right here,” I softened my voice and ran my hand through his hair again allowing it to rest at the nape of his neck, “I’m right here and I’m real. I’m not a ghost.”

“Why?” he groaned, closing his eyes again. “Why would you come after what I did to you?”

I sighed, removing my hand from his neck and rested it on my knee. It felt cold no longer touching him. “You asked for me, so I came.”

His head looped forward until it rested against his chest that rose and fell with slow, shallow breaths. It appeared as if he had fallen asleep again and I almost reached for him again when he spoke. “You’re too good for me. You don’t deserve this.”

“I’m not arguing with you there,” I replied, “but you’re drunk and passed out in a very dirty parking lot so I’m here to get you home.”

“Just leave me here. I’ll sober up eventually,” he protested.

I stifled the urge to violently roll my eyes. He was so dramatic sometimes.  

“Not taking the chance,” I huffed and rose to my feet. He watched me with eyes more alert than they were before. He was listening now. “Get up, get in the car, and I’ll take you home. Or you can sleep here and I’ll leave.”

I extended my hand and watched Yoongi wage the proposition over in his head as he stared at me. For a second it seemed like he wasn’t going to take it, but then his cool, slick fingers laced around my wrist and I hauled him to his feet. He was a bit unbalanced but refused any help from his friends. A small smile pressed into my lips as I spun on my heel and walked to my car.

Popping open the car door, I turned back to the boys and gave them a small nod. Namjoon mouthed his thanks as he trailed behind Yoongi to make sure he didn’t fall again but his steps were steadier than they probably were earlier. He managed to make it into my low car by himself and strapped himself in with no one’s help, not even mine. I stepped in and closed the door, revving the engine to life before waving a goodbye to the boys.

The drive to his apartment was quiet. He didn’t say anything, probably was trying hard not to breathe, and I spared him no words. I wanted to scream at him, wanted to punch him, wanted to desperately ask why he wanted me when he so carelessly threw me away in the first place. I wanted to blame him, to curse him, to send him straight to hell. But I bit my tongue because I knew nothing would come of it. Two months of nothing but desperately wanting answers showed me that no answers would ever come. At least not the ones I wanted. So what was the point?

We pulled up to his apartment twenty minutes later and I parked the car but didn’t turn off the engine. Yoongi was sober enough now to realize where we were but he didn’t make an effort to get out of the car or unbuckle his seat belt. I sat still waiting for him to leave.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t worry about it. You were drunk and they needed my help,” I responded.

He shook his head, “Not about tonight.”

I knew what he meant but I didn’t, couldn’t, hear him say it. If he apologized now, it would be over. Months of thinking about this moment did not prepare me for the inevitability of it and when it ended then what would I do?

All I said was “you’re home now.”

He still didn’t move.

“I wanted to make sure you were ok.” His confession didn’t shock me but it did sting. Now he cared.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I harshly asked.

He sighed and lowered his head into his hands, “I didn’t want to ruin you. I pushed you away so I wouldn’t ruin you. I’m fucked up and you’re so—“

“Don’t,” I cut him off, “Don’t you dare say it.” He looked up in surprise but the floodgates had opened and I couldn’t stop myself. “That word has haunted me for months. Months, Yoongi. Everything I did, all the things I loved, even the way I dressed reminded me of that damn word. That damn excuse. You wanted out, but you were too much of a coward to admit it, so you made yourself a villain and put me on a fucking pedestal. Untouchable. You have no idea what that did to me.”  

“I’m so—“

“I don’t care,” I snapped, the anger bubbling to the surface. “You didn’t ruin me, Yoongi, you aren’t powerful enough. But don’t ever call me that again.”

He sat in stunned silence, or drunken confusion, and all I wanted was to be rid of him. I was done. I wanted this chapter of my life closed. I unlocked the door. “Get out.”

For once in his life, he listened to me.

No Control | Chapter Thirty-One


Micky Bennett: college student, loyal friend, aspiring nurse, One Direction fan, Harry Styles enthusiast. Her best friend, Trevor, wins tickets to a show in New Jersey with meet and greet passes. Micky expects a quick photo op with the boys and a great night at the concert with her best friend. What she gets a whole lot more than she bargained for.

To read previous chapters, you can go here

*Please feel free to reblog and send feedback. It’s much appreciated :)*

*Gif is not mine.*


Since I completely forgot to tell Harry about Trevor’s birthday party when I saw him, thanks to the discussions we were having with Jeff and Glenne, I call him the next day during my lunch break. He expresses his want to attend, and when I tell him the name of the place it’s going to be, he’s quiet for a few moments. 

“Are you serious?” he asks, sounding slightly surprised. 

“Yeah, why?” I ask, sort of concerned by his tone of voice. 

“That’s the restaurant Cindy and Rande own. I eat there at least once a month with them.”

It’s my turn to pause. “Well, are you okay with making it twice a month for March?”

He chuckles. “I’d eat there everyday if it were practical. I’ll be there, Mick. What does Trev want for his birthday?”

Keep reading

Sentence Meme; Garth Nix’s Sabriel
  • “One of unusual calling, but unskilled.”
  • “Death and what comes after it is no great mystery.”
  • “Don’t do anything for a moment. I will speak to it.”
  • “What do you think you’re doing? You can’t loiter here!”
  • “Do you know my father? He used to visit me here.”
  • “I’m glad you understand. I still don’t.”
  • “I may be less honored and more reviled as a messenger of ill omen.”
  • “How long til the bindings fail?”
  • “You don’t seem disturbed by your lack of directions.”
  • “I don’t feel young anymore.”
  • “Does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker?”
  • “Perhaps they’ll know you from your sword?”
  • “Do not tarry, do not stop, no matter what happens.”
  • “Do you think that will get through?”
  • “About time you got here.”
  • “You are only wishing that he lives.”
  • “I see you have found that book.”
  • “I know the way, so I’d better come with you.”
  • “So you are the victim of some spell.”
  • “A kiss. Actually, just a breath would do. But you have to start kissing someone sometime, I suppose.”
  • “Cleanliness is a wonderful thing.”
  • “You do remember what you’ve done?”
  • “Get dressed, for a start.”
  • “Just do as you’re told.”
  • “Have you got any ideas about how to open this door?”
  • “What’s the village leader’s title - usually, I mean? What are they called?”
  • “The sea washes all things clear, for a time.”
  • “I just thought that you might like to know that their room is that way.”
  • “Put your sword away and give me your hand.”
  • “Hush, we have no time for tears.”
  • “He always was flamboyant.”
  • “Why are we running?”
  • “Do you always know what’s going to happen?”
  • “Halt! You are my prisoners!”
  • “”Are you coming with us?”
  • “Be inside by nightfall. Lock all the doors and windows.Deny entry to strangers. Shed light inside and out.”
  • “I wish _____ was here. He’d think of something.”
  • “The fog is almost at the gates.”
  • “The blood price must be paid.”
  • “This is not their path.”
  • “I should have remembered you were a troublesome brat.”
  • “Will you sleep, unknowing, or will you go waking, every step of the way?”

anonymous asked:

Listen- I get how you want to be inclusive and all, but when you get submissions/asks from people in traditionally feminine makeup, dress, hair, posture, etc. who say stuff like “Is it okay for transgender nonbinary genderflux (demi-boy / demi-girl flux) soft bois to still be feminine and love their curves? uwu” how do you not laugh or outright tell them no? Also, I would genuinely like to hear any argument, and am totally willing to message and debate once you provide one; I just want to learn

Probably because I’m a small insignificant stack of cells surrounded by world problems and beautiful things on a floating rock barreling through an infinite cosmos and I have better things to worry about than what some one is wearing or calling themselves? Frankly people should just do whatever they want and be whoever they are because life is too short to adhere to man made rules. This idea that there is a certain criteria in order to avoid the “cringe zone” has done absolutely nothing good. If someone wants to change their gender before every meal and back again and do so dressed as freaking Pennywise I couldn’t care less as long as they’re happy and are contributing positively to this strange society we live in. If humans stopped going against each other we might actually start solving the real problems. Life is strange and confusing and complex and I hope we can all enjoy it as such, without stressing too much about fitting into boxes.

- Michael

When I Was A Young Boy

Pairing: none

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Request fic for @burymeinblvck. “Hey could you do one where the reader is Gerard’s son and he’s going through dysphoria as being trans?”

You sat in the living room of your California home, flipping channels on your TV. Nothing good was on, and you were starting to feel kind of bored. Then, you paused when you recognized your father’s face on some talk show.

I forgot Dad was doing an interview today, you thought, setting down the remote.

“We’re here with former My Chemical Romance frontman Gerard Way,” the interviewer announced. “Gerard, how are you doing today?”

“I’m great, it’s great to be here,” your dad smiled. He looked a bit awkward. You chuckled as you considered that perhaps you got your dorkiness form him.

“Now, I feel like we have to address the elephant in the room,” the interviewer said seriously, and you frowned, knowing what was coming.

“All the tabloids – and the tweeters! – have been talking about it since the story broke,” the interviewer informed the live studio audience. “The reports that your daughter is going to transition and become a man – are they true??”

“My son has always been a man,” Gerard corrected with an annoyed expression. “It just took him a while to tell me so.”

“And how did you feel when she….” the talk show host began.

“He,” Gerard interrupted.

“….When he came out to you?” the reporter finished.

Keep reading

Seeking Book(s)

I don’t know if this is a shot in the dark, but it’s one of those “I’m looking for a book I read a long time ago but don’t know what it’s called” cases. The details are very, very vague, but I remember a couple of scenes very clearly. 

I think there are two siblings who live in the modern world but somehow end up in a gladiator ring for some reason, all dressed up as gladiators, and there may be a dress-up party involved? And then there is this other guy, who’s from the past, and ends up in modern day America driving this strange thing he’s encountered called a “red Chevy” (I think it’s a Chevy? I could be wrong) and I think there’s a girl (from present-day America?) with him as well… and they end up at a petrol station where things go wrong? I have no idea what these two characters have to do with the other two characters, or if I’m mashing two completely different books together in confusion. I know this isn’t much information to go off of, but this has been bothering me for a while, so I thought I might as well try. 

it could be everything (jane/kurt fanfic + #bspromptchallenge)

project: @blindspothiatusproject 30 day gif/fanfic prompt challenge

day 29. home/house/apartment

A/N: this is a follow up to i looked up and you were gone (from day 18 of the challenge).


it could be everything

Kurt brought his hands up to his mouth and blew into them, trying to generate some heat before he stuck them in his pockets as he crossed the street.

Keep reading

That Reporter (Prefall! Jack Morrison x Reader x Prefall! Gabriel Reyes)

Thank you for requesting this @neon-charlotte

Enjoyyyyy I decided to put this Prefall because it seemed more fitting seeing two man staring at a reporter for how attractive they look. Decided to go back to my old way of writing which is Third Point of View but that’s totally going to break into a second-third point of view mix haha

Warning: lots of coughs. Swear words in Spanish(will be marked with * and will be translated in the end)

Also as a Hispanic I have no idea what to establish Gabriel so I’m just going to call him between Latino and Hispanic which is basically the same thing. I had ramble too long soooo enjoy!!!


Both Commanders, one of Overwatch and the other of Blackwatch were attending a high priority hosted party in representation of the heroes. Surely Gabriel Reyes was not someone for going to high standard parties nor any kind unless it was with people he had knowledge within.

But since Jack Morrison, Commander and leader of Overwatch had dragged the soldier out to coughsocializecough. He had no choice but to be there.

Both men dressed up with suits, Jack having a more bluish colored one with a light blue tie while Gabriel coughtotallydidn'tlooklikeaHitmancough.

Gabriel had been sticking with Jack to avoid any conflicts of his temper going off to let Jack do the talking. But Jack being Jack, he had completely ditched Gabriel to go talk to some people leaving the Latino man to try to socialize.

“Este pendejo..”* Gabriel muttered as he narrowed his eyes searching for Jack.

Once he had spotted the man he was quickly bumped into a poor news reporter who was just having a small talk with another guest.

“Ah- mira donde-* sorry.“He interrupted himself from releasing his anger at what appeared to be a very tired and worn out news reporter.

"Nono- it’s fine!"They said as they turned to look at Gabriel after picking their fallen items, a notebook and a pencil.

‘Would had thought most reporters wrote with a pen instead.’ He thought.

"Ah, Commander Reyes, no?"They tilted their head as they nodded to the guest they were formerly speaking with who excused themselves to go to freshen up with the meals offered at the high standard party.

"My name is (Y/N) (Middle/Last-Name), news reporter for the local area."They introduced themselves as they ran a hand over their used to be brushed hair."It is nice to make your acquaintance, sir."They added as they barely bowed in respect. Probably from those long nights of having themselves over the desk to finish a report before the next say had officially started.

It didn’t took them long to have a small chat with the hot-headed commander of Blackwatch.

"It was a pleasure! Thank you for allowing me to chat and have a interview with you, sir! Do enjoy the party as much as you can!"They said as they excused themselves to return to their boss’s side.

Gabriel was quickly met up with Jack who was previously watching them talk with each other.

He whistled as he placed a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder."Had fun speaking to them?"He asked as Gabriel shrugged Jack’s hand off and scowled at the other commander.

"Mind your own business cabrón*."Gabriel said as he headed off to grab a drink. Jack on the other hand decided to see how this reporter seemed to not send Gabriel over the edge like the rest of the people did.

But it didn’t took exactly two minutes to see why they didn’t sent him into a berserk mood. The reporter was nothing more than a sweet tired person who had a calm aura and a comforting atmosphere around them. To Jack; they seemed like the most hard working reporter that he has ever speaken to.

For the rest of the night the two Commanders stood side by side having a quiet conversation about how they pictured the news reporter being in Overwatch. From a hard-to-kill hero to a spy-like person or just someone to keep in track with. Though they both discarded those ideas and began to speak about what they thought was your story and nationality. From that they spoke about what they thought were: your likes, dislikes, casual clothing, ideal man/woman, ideal date, and if they had a chance with you.

Though they both were also having a silent war between them as they converse about you.

Spanish to English:
"Este pendejo”= This bastard/asshole/jackass/fool/idiot.

‘mira donde-= He was going to fully say “watch where you’re going” but he was caught off guard with how unique atmosphere you presented.

cabrón= (actually means male goat if its not used for a slang) a angry man, cunning man (but this slang has a female version which is cabrona), bastard, asshole, son of a bitch, motherfucker, jerk(really depends on how you put it but Gabe says it as jerk/motherfucker and/or asshole.)