i refuse to accept it but here i am crying ; ;

scarletnightwalker  asked:

Hello, I was wondering if you could help me. Lately I've come across the healthy/unhealthy personality types. Though I know, that I'm an ENTP, I would like to learn, how you can tell whether they are healthy or not. Would be great if you would explain this. Thanks in advance PS.: I'm not sure, if this is the right place to ask my questions, so correct me if the 'question' section isn't the right one.

It’s the right place. All the mods are pretty chill coz we’re awesome. :)

Unhealthy NTP: never finishes anything or focuses on the details (zero follow through), uses their Fe to manipulate people (you’re soft, and a pansy, and making you fall for my BS is so fun, maybe I can even get you to cry by pointing out how stupid your ideas are!) or intentionally hurt them rather than forge genuine connections or take into consideration people’s feelings.

Healthy NTP: knows which ideas are better than others, in order to focus on bringing them into fruition and either commits to them long-term by selecting a creative partner (Ne/Fe) or giving their ideas away to others who can nail down the details. Is logical but gentle in correcting others, mindful that people’s feelings matter and it’s important for others to genuinely like you in life, in order to get things done (and because it’s the nice thing to do). Realizes they’re prone to hyperbole, short term interests, and exaggeration, and learns to laugh about it, but also acknowledge it and work on fixing it. Takes personal responsibility for their mistakes.

Unhealthy NFP: never finishes anything or focuses on details (zero follow through), follows their heart without regard for the consequences, using that to justify hurtful behavior (I don’t care what you think, I fell out of love with you, so I can cheat on you all I want, I’ve done nothing wrong, this is who I am, just deal with it or get out), refuses to take blame for their part of the problem, may intentionally offend others, and doesn’t care about anyone but themselves.

Healthy NFP: knows which ideas are better than others and seeks to bring the best ones into the world through healthy engagement of goals, deadlines, and process of elimination (Te). Sets personal deadlines for self, and beats them, in order to stay motivated. Understands what drives them most, slows them down, or angers them, and commits to doing something about it. Learns such things as “tact,” when dealing with others, but also when and where to defy social norms and stand up for oneself (does that really matter? is it worth a fight?). Takes personal responsibility for their mistakes.

Unhealthy NTJ: becomes obnoxious in pushing their “vision” on others or asserting they know everything (including your motives) while devaluing your feelings or beliefs, often sneers at people who make emotional decisions, and sometimes passive-aggressively attacks people’s ego or intelligence that they do not like (okay, stupid, I’m just going to make you look like an idiot, while correcting every damn thing you say, all day long, until you run away and cry).

Healthy NTJ: has a fair, balanced, and open-minded approach to life, is willing to listen to others’ ideas and offer practical thoughts on them, but is neither arrogant nor pushy about their knowledge, expertise, and logical detachment. Chooses when to correct others with care, and never does so to humiliate, only to educate. Respects others’ feelings even if they personally feel that the other person is making a mistake. Focuses on taking their ideas and goals and making them real. Takes personal responsibility for their mistakes.

Unhealthy NFJ: total detachment from reality, while stubbornly clinging to the belief that their irrational interpretation is “the truth” (and the ONLY truth) (It DOES make sense, you’re just too stupid to understand it!), and resorting to a “you’re either with us or against us” mentality, which manifests in creating a single universal (sometimes abstract) enemy and trying to recruit others to join their cause against them / you (bad Ni and Fe).

Healthy NFJ: has a fair, balanced, and open-minded approach to life, accepts their interpretation may be unrealistic, but is committed to bringing their ideas and visualizations to life, often by recruiting others to a positive common cause. Uses their understanding of others’ motives to uplift rather than tear down, and becomes a source of compassionate and guiding “wisdom” for friends (I worry about you choosing this path, and here’s why…). Never recruits others in any negative ways against someone who disagrees with them. Takes personal responsibility for their mistakes.

Unhealthy STP: irresponsible, reckless, and hedonistic, engaging in short-term behaviors that leave a wake of destruction behind (broken marriages, families, and violated responsibilities), often using Fe to manipulate people to get what they want (hey, I’m super hot and I’ve seen you ogling my backside, so I’m going to wear something that accentuates it so you’ll give me what I want in return one of these days; I don’t care how wrong it is) and then dumping them like hotcakes.

Healthy STP: knows life has much to offer and not only enjoys it but helps others loosen up and try new things, but commits to the people, beliefs, and jobs that are most important to them, for the long term. Understands and respects others’ feelings and seeks to connect to them through that, as well as develop their own ability to communicate. Learns the art of tact and when to use it (is it worth correcting this person or does it matter?). Tries to think about the long-term consequences of impulse, before engaging in it. Takes personal responsibility for their mistakes.

Unhealthy SFP: irresponsible, reckless, and hedonistic, going through jobs and romantic relationships like wildfire, abandoning people every time they get “bored” or feel unattached; justifies this behavior with selfish reasoning (I just don’t love you anymore, so I don’t have to treat you with respect); unable to be counted upon by other people, since they never show up or follow through; refuses to take responsibility through their actions and doesn’t mind offending others for no reason at all.

Healthy SFP: is good at self-entertaining and eager to try new things, and infects others with a similar excitement; is good at pushing people out of their comfort zones and encouraging them to aim high for their dreams. Has a strong sense of personal beliefs, and is willing to commit to other people, and prioritize them in relationships. Knows when it’s appropriate to defy social convention, and when it’s better to dial back the “but this is just who I am!” and chill. Sets personal goals, deadlines, and achievements, and sticks with things, so they have something tangible to show for their time (Te). Takes personal responsibility for their mistakes.

Unhealthy STJ: refuses to adapt or change even when their world implodes; may try and “force” or “strong-arm” others into their point of view. Has little interest or respect for people’s feelings and doesn’t mind crushing them on their way to success, but may also play the role of a martyr in the process (since NO ONE ELSE IS RESPONSIBLE AROUND HERE, I HAVE TO DO IT). May become irrational or paranoid with lower Ne, and turn into a pessimist.

Healthy STJ: uses their extensive past experience to figure out what will and won’t work when dealing with life and problems, but is also open to new ideas, trying out new things, and experiencing what “lies beneath the surface” (Ne). Tries not to shut down ideas until they have considered them. Is practical, efficient, and logical, but also respects people’s feelings and doesn’t intentionally try to hurt, shame, or control them. Becomes able to share what they need emotionally with others, rather than playing a martyr (I would like it if you would take the trash out; since I’m doing this other thing, it seems fair, and it would make me happy). Takes personal responsibility for their mistakes.

Unhealthy SFJ: refuses to change or adapt, while clinging stubbornly to their idea of “how things were,” while struggling to control their emotions; may resort to being “fake” in order to manipulate others, to “us vs them” thinking and overt moralizing (if you don’t agree with us, you’d better change your mind or face the consequences, because we can’t let you hold such a wrong point of view and will punish you for it).

Healthy SFJ: uses the past to form impressions about people and situations, but changes those perceptions based on new experience; is open to new ideas and beliefs, and willing to look beneath the surface (Ne), with the aim of making those things “useful and tangible” in the real world (how can this idea apply to life and improve our situation?). Learns the art of “polite affirming correction,” which helps others become better, while not shaming, humiliating, or insulting them for their behavior. Aware not everyone needs to agree, and comfortable with those who don’t; never recruits anyone against anyone else, or adopts a mentality of “let’s get that person, together.” Takes personal responsibility for their mistakes. 

- ENFP Mod

Protection ∾ zach dempsey

Originally posted by kulo-ren

posted 4/16/17

request? yes
   “ Hiiiiii! I have a request if you’re taking them still, a 13rw (I’m a huge fan of your blog btw) where the reader is dating Zach and he figures out that Bryce did something to her (you can decided) and he loses his shit and attacks him. ”

pairing(s): zach x fem!reader , bryce x fem!reader , alex x fem!reader (platonic)

warning(s): mentions of rape 

a/n: i skipped writing the details for the fighting scene because i’m not really good with writing scenes like that, sorry!! but 13rw requests are closed !!
i wrote this in a different perspective because i can’t even imagine doing this in a reader’s pov. it made me get so much anxiety writing it, so sorry if this isn’t as good as my other fics.
oh, and if any of you readers were wondering, i am willing to write girlxgirl or boyxboy. just shoot me a request and i’ll happily accept. i’m sorry that it seems like i always write about fem!readers :(

words: 1169 (hehe)

[not my gif]


It’s been days since Y/N was last seen in Liberty High.

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Finding Home

Summary:  After Cas is rejected by his homophobic parents, his roommate Dean invites him to stay for the holidays with him and his family.  He never expected it to turn into this.


“They don’t want me anymore.” 

Dean blinks in surprise, looking up to see his freshman roommate standing in the doorway, antiquated cellphone in his hands.  To his surprise, the kid looks to be on the verge of crying, which is strange – Dean’s joked with his friends about how emotionless Cas appears to be.  Or rather, had appeared to be, up till now. 

“Cas, you alright there, buddy?”  Dean asks, chair screeching as he pulls away from his desk.  He’d been trying to finish his research paper for his physiology class, but whatever Cas’s problem is seems to be more pressing. 

“They don’t want me,” Cas repeats, swallowing wetly.  “My parents.  They say don’t want me to come home for Christmas break, and they don’t want me contacting my siblings anymore.” 

Dean blinks comprehensively.  “What?  Why the hell not?” 

“They, ‘still love me,’” Cas snuffles, rubbing his nose with the sleeve of his ever-present beige trench coat with one arm and making quotey fingers with the other.  “But they ‘don’t approve of my lifestyle.’”  

Oh.  Oh, so that’s what this is about.  

Dean hasn’t known Cas for all that long, and he doesn’t know a whole lot about him:  just that he’s a bio major with plans to become a doctor (Dean himself is going into nursing), he’s cute (though he’d never, ever tell Cas that), not a little weird, and yeah, if the time he’d come home to find him making out with Crowley (the poncy British upperclassman from accounting who Dean already loathes with a passion) he is into guys.

His parents must not have been cool with it. 

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Shiro x Lance + Hunk (Omegaverse)

Threesome! Omegaverse! Heat! Daddy kink! Masochism! What else could one ask for?

Based on @jaspurrlock art 

 Also posted on my AO3 

 warning for a tad bit of non-con!

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Pride and Prejudice, and Consent

Time to cleanse the palate with a bit of positive relationship analysis!

One of the tropes that plagues, and has plagued, romance fiction ever since the invention of the novel is the idea of female consent not being necessary as long as the male is desirable and/or really wants her. Often, the heroine will succumb either to her own desires or his, whether she is entirely willing to do so or not, and that is framed as being analogous with passion—even love.

Well, two hundred years before Fifty Shades of Grey played fast and loose with consent issues, I present to you the antithesis of this trope in Mr. Darcy of Pemberley.

Elizabeth Bennet, the heroine of Pride and Prejudice, receives two proposals of marriage that are eerily similar, despite the outward differences of her two suitors. Mr. Collins and Mr. Darcy both spring unexpected and unwelcome proposals of marriage on her, calling to light her family’s lack of financial security and connection, seeing themselves as condescending to offer for her, and being completely perplexed by her refusal to accept them.

Elizabeth to Collins: You could not make me happy, and I am convinced I am the last woman in the world who would make you so.

Elizabeth to Darcy: I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.“

Elizabeth’s words leave no ambiguity for either gentleman: she soundly rejects them both in a similar fashion. From this, readers may infer that since Darcy and Elizabeth end up together, it is Darcy who is persistent in his romantic intentions after Elizabeth has said “no.” But in fact, it is Collins who refuses to take no for an answer, and Darcy who never oversteps his bounds.

The first thing Collins says after he hears her rejection is that she cannot be serious in her refusal. 

 "I am not now to learn,” replied Mr. Collins, with a formal wave of the hand, “that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second or even a third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have just said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long.”

So elevated is his own sense of self-worth that she has to explain to him that she did, in fact, mean what she said:

  “Upon my word, sir,” cried Elizabeth, “your hope is rather an extraordinary one after my declaration. I do assure you that I am not one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who are so daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal.”

What is the result? Collins still doesn’t take no for an answer, again:

  “Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so,” said Mr. Collins very gravely – “but I cannot imagine that her ladyship would at all disapprove of you. And you may be certain that when I have the honour of seeing her again, I shall speak in the highest terms of your modesty, economy, and other amiable qualifications.”

  “Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be unnecessary. You must give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the compliment of believing what I say.”

And again:

  "When I do myself the honour of speaking to you next on this subject, I shall hope to receive a more favourable answer than you have now given me; though I am far from accusing you of cruelty at present, because I know it to be the established custom of your sex to reject a man on the first application, and perhaps you have even now said as much to encourage my suit as would be consistent with the true delicacy of the female character.”

  “Really, Mr. Collins,” cried Elizabeth with some warmth, “you puzzle me exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can appear to you in the form of encouragement, I know not how to express my refusal in such a way as may convince you of its being one.”

And again:

   "You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin, that your refusal of my addresses is merely words of course. My reasons for believing it are briefly these: – It does not appear to me that my hand is unworthy your acceptance, or that the establishment I can offer would be any other than highly desirable. My situation in life, my connections with the family of De Bourgh, and my relationship to your own, are circumstances highly in my favour; and you should take it into farther consideration that, in spite of your manifold attractions, it is by no means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made you. Your portion is unhappily so small, that it will in all likelihood undo the effects of your loveliness and amiable qualifications. As I must therefore conclude that you are not serious in your rejection of me, I shall chuse to attribute it to your wish of increasing my love by suspense, according to the usual practice of elegant females.“

   ”I do assure you, sir, that I have no pretension whatever to that kind of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable man. I would rather be paid the compliment of being believed sincere. I thank you again and again for the honour you have done me in your proposals, but to accept them is absolutely impossible. My feelings in every respect forbid it. Can I speak plainer? Do not consider me now as an elegant female, intending to plague you, but as a rational creature, speaking the truth from her heart.“

And again:   

"You are uniformly charming!” cried he, with an air of awkward gallantry; “and I am persuaded that, when sanctioned by the express authority of both your excellent parents, my proposals will not fail of being acceptable.”

In fact, Collins only stops pursuing Elizabeth when her father puts his foot down and backs her refusal. Pride and Prejudice is a comedy, and so the tone is light on the surface, but beneath the satire is a very real, earnest desire to communicate how often women’s words—even their consent—are dismissed as fickle or inconsequential. Seeing our heroine not fleeing dramatically from a villain, but pursued by an entitled man who doesn’t take her words seriously, we feel Elizabeth’s sense of outrage and how belittling it is for Collins to act this way.

By contrast, though we might imagine a love interest like Darcy to be overcome with passion and try to make her his own by any means, Darcy is remarkably restrained and respectful without ever losing his ardent love for the woman he wants to marry. The first divergence of his response from Collins’ occurs right after he has been rejected:

   "And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance.“

The wording here is important. He doesn’t demand that she explain why she rejected him, but rather why she was so impolite about doing so (since he has no knowledge of her dislike of him). He continues to be honest about his objections to her family’s behavior and place in the world, and to be angry at her for defending the duplicitous Wickham, but he never tries to convince her that she was wrong in rejecting him, even though he still views her as a social inferior.

After their heated conversation, Darcy leaves with an apology that he has occupied her for so long:

   "You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.”

This is a far cry from Collins following Elizabeth around after the proposal and trying to go over her head to her parents for support.

But wait—doesn’t the love interest write Elizabeth a letter, convincing her to give him another chance?

No. Both Darcy’s letter and its method of delivery are respectful of Elizabeth’s boundaries and her refusal of him.

It should be noted that an unmarried gentlewoman receiving letters from a man she was not engaged to resulted in scandal if it were ever exposed. If Darcy had wanted to compel Elizabeth to marry him, he would only have had to deliver the letter publicly, or through the post. Instead, he delivers the letter in person, when they are alone in a park and there is no chance of discovery. It is still a bit of a risk, though, and so he asks (not demands) that she read it:

“Will you do me the honour of reading that letter?“

Right from the beginning, Darcy reassures Elizabeth that he is not trying to impose on her or get her to accept him after she has made her wishes clear:

 "Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments or renewal of those offers which were last night so disgusting to you. 

While it is more than apparent that her rejection stung and he is still in love with her, he never brings up the subject of the proposal again—the contents are a defense of the charges she had laid against his character, as well as a warning against Wickham for her own safety. He doesn’t ask for a second chance or demand she reconsider her words, even in light of this new information. Moreover, he trusts her with the knowledge of his sister’s near-elopement with Wickham (which could cause a scandal if discovered), thus risking as much by delivering the letter as Elizabeth does by accepting it. In every way, he trusts her judgment and keeps her wishes in mind.

When they meet again at Pemberley, Darcy is trying to reform his behavior. He is cordial to her tradesman uncle and aunt, and has divested himself of the haughtiness that prevented her from seeing his true worth initially. Darcy does not give himself permission to pursue Elizabeth as a result of this change in character; it is only after they have met and talked cordially that he asks her, not to speak with him alone, but to meet his sister. In fact, he resists making romantic overtures for the duration of the visit, which ends abruptly when Elizabeth discovers her sister’s elopement with Wickham. And even there, when she and Darcy are accidentally alone during her distress, he makes no move to use the occasion as an excuse to “comfort” her with his advances. His reaction is, in fact, quite the opposite:

 "I am afraid you have been long desiring my absence, nor have I anything to plead in excuse of my stay, but real, though unavailing, concern.”

Another opportunity arises for Darcy to compel Elizabeth to marry him, this time out of gratitude. Unable to see Elizabeth so wretched, he finds Lydia and Wickham in London and, at great expense, convinces them to marry. He saves not only her sister’s reputation but that of her entire family. Yet rather than use that as an example to Elizabeth of what a good person he is, he forbids her aunt and uncle from mentioning that it was he who saved the Bennets’ good name. Elizabeth doesn’t even know he was involved until Lydia thoughtlessly gives the game away (after she, too, was sworn to secrecy).  

How then, do Lizzy and Darcy get together? It is Elizabeth herself who gives Darcy a reason to believe her opinion of him has improved. During a verbal duel with Darcy’s formidable aunt, she comes out the winner and point-blank refuses to give Lady Catherine a promise not to pursue Mr. Darcy. Lady Catherine petulantly tries to cut the problem off at the source by relating everything to her nephew. It works about as well as you’d expect.

 But, unluckily for her ladyship, its effect had been exactly contrariwise.

   "It taught me to hope,“ said he, "as I had scarcely ever allowed myself to hope before. I knew enough of your disposition to be certain, that had you been absolutely, irrevocably decided against me, you would have acknowledged it to Lady Catherine, frankly and openly.”

What prompts Darcy to renew his offer of marriage is nothing more or less than evidence that Elizabeth had seen his change of heart and accepted it.

“You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once.My affections and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.”

Above is Darcy’s second proposal. After hearing her first rejection, he takes her at her word, respectfully gives her information that might have led her to mistaken conclusions about him, leaves even before he is asked to, reforms his own behavior, never takes advantage of their being alone to make unwanted advances, assists her and her family without taking any credit, and once he has seen enough signs to think she might accept him, renews his offer once and only once. If she says no again, unlike Collins, he will not continue to pester her or seek her out. He will not try to convince her that her decision was wrong. It is a sad statement on society that this is a remarkable thing, no less in the real world than in fiction, and all too prevalent in heroes of romance even two hundred years later. There is no shortage of love interests who mistake passion for permission, conflict for consent, and adversity for flirtation—but there is also no excuse for this to continue, particularly now. If a novel published in 1813 can understand the letter and spirit of consent, I think we can do better in our own time.


EDIT: Continued here.

Rest of Our Lives

Characters: Y/N (reader), Misha Collins, Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki

Pairing: Misha x Reader

Warnings: stressed reader, douche ex, crappy friend, bad boss, “kidnapping” - the cute kind though. Mainly just fluff though.  

Word Count: 1400ish

A/N: This is is my entry for the lovely @splendidcas’ birthday challenge. Shannon thank you for giving me an always welcome excuse to write more Misha.

My prompt for this challenge was: “I don’t kidnap, I just temporarily borrow a person” - And I love this prompt so so much, so thank you for this opportunity Shan :D

Thanks to the brilliant and sweet @chaos-and-the-calm67 for betaing this for me.

Opening a coffee shop was stressful, especially when the person opening it was you. You wanted everything to be perfect. This had been you dream for at long as you could remember and taking the leap and finally realizing it had not been one you had taken lightly.

It had taken years working as a waitress in a restaurant for a horrible boss and finding your cheating boyfriend in bed with your best friend. It had taken days spend in bed crying your eyes out, before you had forced yourself to get back on your feet. You were not going to let screaming bosses, bad friends or cheating exes knock you down. You were going to take this as a sign that you needed at change. You had remembered your dream then and realized it was time to realize it.

That had been almost a year ago. You had started creating a business plan and you had worked hard on getting approved for the loans you had needed. Six months ago today you had gotten them approved and the same day you had bought this building. It was also six month ago today, you had met him.

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The Effect of Emotional Abuse on Each Type: INFP

SUBMITTED by hannah-elizabeth-j

^^^^^^^^^ My work is done.

Oh, like a real analysis/description? Okay then.

I’ve seen a few posts/requests on here about the effects of emotional abuse and the affect that it has on each Myers Briggs type so, as someone who works with a lot of domestic abuse victims I thought that I’d give my two cents worth. I wanted them to be quite detailed to give people a fair amount of information so this will be the general format; a general description of what it will look like, how this differs from similar types (ie. the ENFJ compared to the INFJ and ESFJ) and a character in fiction who acts similar to this (may not be for the same reason and I might not get one for each type but I’ll try).

INFP

There will be some variation depending on when the abuse took place in their life but there are somethings that will remain the same.

Ever want to see an INFP that defies every stereotype in the book?

From my experience an INFP who has come from an abusive home will contradict pretty much every stereotype there is.

Chances are while they are in an abusive situation these are some of the last people that you would ever see crying or really showing any form of emotion. Until they get out, there will be no torched art work taking place, no heart-breaking poems and no idealism.

Here’s the thing, as far as I’m concerned you can’t really give abusive people a Myers Briggs type.  In fiction, sure it’s easy but as far as real life goes, it doesn’t work because they all end up as ENTJ’s or ESTJ’s and that simply can’t be true.

But I digress, the point of me saying that was that the profile of an abuser is the polar opposite of an INFP profile (this isn’t me saying that all INFP’s are wonderful people because that’s impossible) the point is that an abuser will make an INFP suppress every part of themselves more than with any other type that I’ve come across.

An abusive person doesn’t want you to have a moral code, independent emotions or for there to be any level of removal from a reality that they can control. The result of this is that the INFP can’t use their dominant or auxiliary functions and stay safe at the same time.

But, since is still their type what you will see when an INFP is in an abusive situation is a person who just seems, for want of a better word, empty. The INFP will have suppressed their most natural selves because the truth is you can talk my ear off all about Fi having its own value system that is totally independent and this is what they will act on but, this changes if you are manipulated and never know one day to the next if you are going to be safe.

Its highly unlikely that they will have any of the usual INFP traits of having personal interests or hobbies or anything that would fuel their Fi or Ne, they will simply be surviving, just getting though the day with nothing extra, you may see an excessive amount of reading or TV watching. Anything in short that means they can be their natural selves without anyone noticing.

So in this stage, they would be pretty impossible people to type.

After this person had left their lives say hello to the inferior Te grip. This will just be made worse by the fact that control is something they have never had(and if the abuser was a parent) or hadn’t had  for  a long period of time.

Suddenly it is ‘my way or the high way.’ They will want to have a say in everything, no one will be able to tell them what to do, how to do it or when to do it. I’ve seen a studious INFP friend of mine get in a lot of trouble when she was in this situation because she refused  to work at school or do her homework. Did she really have an issue with school? No, she liked it. But they were telling her what to do and when to do it by and she wasn’t having any of it. She had a strong element of enneagram 8(tri-type) in  she was more confrontational than most would be. Many would just passively refuse to do things because they will not be told what to do anymore.

When this phase of over, its pretty much just all tears and trying to revaluate everything. They finally have the freedom to be who they are but at this point they have no bloody clue who that is. And I don’t mean in a sense of ‘I’m in my 20’s and an trying to find  myself’ sort of way. They have never been able to be who they are so from what I’ve seen they tend to go back and forth between emotional extremes for a few months. Sudden flashes of anger, then idealism and wanting peace. Then they just want to cry all the time, then it is their sole mission to be happy.

If this is you or someone in your life, its hard and I understand but the honest truth is (as long as it’s not something that has been going on for years) all that is really needed here is time. It will mellow itself out.

Just like with the other types, years later they will likely appear to be a lot better and they often will be.

But in those cases when it is a different story in their heads you will often see cases of people who are disconnected to the people around them. They could at a party full of people having fun feel no sort of sense that this is their reality.

INFP vs. ISFP

  • The ISFP is far more likely to indulge in things like over or under eating, drinking, sex ect. as a method of distraction
  • The INFP will be more liable to appearing detached from situations than an ISFP, despite what they may be feeling, an ISFP will appear to be more grounded in reality and engage with people due to Se
  • Si is far more likely to focus/replay the details of what happened Ni will reply the general experience not the specific events

INFP vs. ENFP

  • Look at the grip, you will get in the grip 9/10 when you leave an abusive situation the way these types act in grips is very different
  • From what I’ve seen when they are at the stage of accepting and moving on from the abusive situation, an ENFP will likely deflect with humor on the situation, I am yet to see an INFP do this
  • ENFP’s  will be see to try and distract themselves from an abusive home by an extravagant social life.

Finally, you can’t find a better example than Credence Barebone (Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them) for an INFP being an abusive situation. And I apologize but I couldn’t think of an example of what one may look like years after. If you can think of any please mention it.

This for the other types will be coming soon. If there are any further questions I’d be happy to answer(send them to me not this blog).

Soaking Wet

A/N: This takes place after 12.16, Ladies Drink Free. I had to take advantage of the fancy hotel scenario.  Reader is a BMOL chick, like the female counterpart to Mick. But in this situation, she doesn’t know about his orders to kill the kid at the hospital (spoiler alert). 

Warning: smutty smut…

Originally posted by lushiebomb


I understand that he’s stressed. And believe me, I know well by now the ways that Dean enjoys burning off steam. That doesn’t make it easy for me to watch him hit on women all the time.

This particular bartender is just his type—hot and available. Currently she’s leaning over the bar to make sure he gets an eyeful of her ample cleavage and I can’t see Dean’s response from here, but I know he’s enjoying what she’s offering.

I also know that he hates the British Men of Letters and being that I’m one of them doesn’t earn me brownie points with him. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let this ridiculous and inappropriate crush ruin my first ever real hunting trip. I have work to do.

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The Donation

Originally posted by daefsoul

wealthy!au; Himchan

When you’re struggling, sometimes a helping hand is appreciated. 

Caution: smut ahead.


You took a heavy breath as the usually busy lunch hour dwindled down. The once packed restaurant had gone down to less than eight patrons. And only one was in your section. “So much for paying those loans,” you sighed feeling slightly defeated.

You perked up at the sound of the bell on the door ringing. You glanced at the door sending a large smile at the familiar face of your favorite costumer, Himchan. He was always good to you, both as a person and in tips. A friendship formed quickly between the two of you. It didn’t help that you found him insanely handsome.

You made your way to his table, taking a seat across from him to give your sore feet a rest. “Howdy stranger,” you greeted.

He gave you his usual charming smile,“Hello beautiful. Anything good on the menu?”

“You always ask that, yet you always get the same thing.”

He chuckled, “Do I?”

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Fanfiction - The Teacher II

I had no choice, really. If you missed it, here is part I.

The Teacher II

Claire hesitated in front of the door, the incrusted bronze plate shining with the letters “Professor Fraser”, beckoning her to dare and knock. She breathed deeply and raised her fist to announce her presence.

“Yes?” A voice answered inside, in a lilt that made her stomach explode in a frenzy of millions of bubbles. She half-opened the door in order to peek inside, realizing that he was accompanied by a student, sitting in front of him in what could only be called “the hot seat”. “Ah, it’s ye Miss Beauchamp.”

“Sorry to disturb you, Professor Fraser.” She said in a respectful tone, watching as her colleague – another Health Management student - looked at her with a cry for help in his brown eyes – slightly hazed from too much weed -, his shoulders slumped in mortal shame. “I have some questions about the essay I still have to write for your class. I was wondering if I could go over them with you, sir.”

James Fraser gave her an uninterested look – which could clearly be interpreted as annoyance with her presence – and finally nodded.

“I’ll be with you presently, Miss Beauchamp.” He said dryly. ”As soon as Mister King here understands that copying a page from Wikipedia is not acceptable as an essay. You do realize I have access to the Internet, Mister King?” His eyebrows were raised above the rim of his black eyeglasses, enhancing his disappointment at his student poorly conducted machinations.

“Yes, Professor Fraser.” The boy furiously nodded, a sinner in repentance, his neck slowly disappearing between his shoulders as he tried to bury himself away, escaping those piercing blue eyes. “I am very sorry, sir.”

“I’m sure ye are.” The teacher gave him a lopsided smile, neatly pilling the sheets of paper crossed out in red ink and pushing them in his direction. “You have until tomorrow to deliver a corrected version of this paper, Mister King. I’ll have to grade it for a maximum “B” after this mischief, but it’s certainly better than the current “D” – from disaster.”

He pursed his lips and waited patiently as the student collected his belongings and made the walk of shame towards the door of his office. Claire could barely contain a smile as her colleague grimaced to her, rolling his eyes in despair, his back turned to the punishing master.

“Come in, Miss Beauchamp.” Professor Fraser urged her and, quickly patting Arthur King’s back in comfort, Claire moved inside the office and closed the door behind her. “How can I help ye?” He asked in a dark tone.

He looked serious and poised, his forearms resting on the mahogany table in front of him. His office was clean and discrete, fairly organized with stacks of paper and folders thoroughly aligned and labelled. He had a shelf filled with books behind him, silently complaining with copious overweight – Claire recognized titles from classic economy books but also lots of poetry and historical tomes. Over the years – both in nursing school and now as medical student –, she had been inside many teacher’s offices. There was a tendency for hoarding and to accumulate trinkets and photographs, as they spent so much time working inside them. However, Jamie’s office spoke of order and contention, only a photograph of himself with a dark haired woman – the same blue slanted eyes smiling to the photographer, betraying their kinship – and a small statue of a leaping stag.

“I was wondering if you could explain me again some concepts.” Claire said in strong voice, locking the door from the inside and slowly moving towards his desk. “I’m not sure I’m truly enlighten about them – in spite of our class yesterday.”

“Do ye now?” Jamie quirked a brow, his voice low and dangerous. “I thought I was fairly clear.” He rose from his chair and came around the desk, nearing her like a graceful predator.

“Some things benefit from repetition.” She licked her lips and, smiling widely, sat on his desk – her floral dress hiking up as she went, exposing her fair legs to his eyes, soft and creamy.

“Christ, Sassenach.” His mask of tight control fell – exposing his raw edges underneath it. He moaned and strode towards her in a heartbeat, placing himself between her parted thighs, his mouth punishing hers for the teasing, his hands grasping her curly hair. “I just had ye yesterday, but I want ye so much it hurts already.”

“I want you too.” She panted, as he touched her breast with his strong palm, her nipple already painfully aware of his proximity. “I couldn’t help myself – I had to come. I had to see you, to feel you.”

“When I saw ye standing at my door, I almost lost it.” He groaned, his hands brushing the soft skin inside her thighs, as he kissed and suckled her neck. “And ye – wearing this dress, ye wicked little vixen. I thought I’d throw ye into my desk and take ye, there and then, right in front of Mister King.”

“You’re a very good actor.” She laughed, her hands fumbling with the zipper of his pants. “I could swear you didn’t even like me – least of all wanted to shag me in your office.” Claire yelped as he kneeled in front of her and bit the sensitive skin, moist and heated from his attentions.

“This is madness.” He nuzzled her, his hands gripping her arse to bring her closer to him. “If we behave like uncontrolled teenagers someone will find out. We need to stop seeing each other here.”

A month before they had started seeing each other – meeting for dinner away from campus and taking long walks on secluded parks and on the coastline, where they could hold hands and kiss, languid and carefree. The underlying attraction had been there from the start, they were forced to admit – and their mutual feelings had bloomed into full spring, nurtured by hours of solitude and touches. At first the idea of sneaking around was fun and certainly arousing – but soon enough the burden of pretending indifference had become a permanent struggle and a source of unhappiness.

“You can stop.” Claire suggested teasingly, her lips tasting the hollow of his throat – skilfully undoing the first buttons of his shirt – the pulse of desire emanating from his skin. “I won’t force you, I promise.”

“I canna refuse ye.” He said in a hoarse voice, his accent made more evident by lust and strong emotion, as she struggled to free him from the constraining underwear. “Not today – nor ever, mo ghraidh.”

He played her like a violin – robbing her lips of moans and sobs that echoed in his heart like notes of the purest music, his eyes fixed on the way her beautiful face almost shattered, so close to be undone. Jamie touched her until his own body hurt – a desire so powerful it bordered on excruciating pain -, finally ready to take her. As he adjusted his body to hers, her head lulled back as she surrendered to the eminent joining, a knock on the door sounded – menacing and real, like a sudden tear on active muscle.

Their eyes locked in terror for a moment, their bodies almost fused together, their breathing ragged and superficial.

“Who is it?” Jamie questioned, struggling to compose his voice. He kissed her swollen lips one final – desperate – time and pulled her out of the desk, quickly helping her to adjust her clothes.

“Fraser?” The voice of Professor Raymond came from outside. “I need to discuss with you the program for the summit. May I come in?”

Mallaichte bas!” Jamie cursed, gritting his teeth. “Just a second!” He shouted through the door, composing his own clothes and brushing his hair with trembling fingers. Like two actors in a comical play, Claire launched herself into the chair, searching for her best concentrated and slightly bored look, as Jamie hurried to adjust the crumpled papers on his desk. When everything seemed to be in natural order, they nodded to each other and Jamie opened the door with a pleasant smile plastered on his lips.

“Ah.” The little man, with silver hair and dark all-knowing eyes, noticed Claire sitting like a student in best possible behaviour. “I hadn’t realize you were busy, James.”

“Miss Beauchamp and I were merely discussing her last paper.” Jamie explained, adjusting his glasses. “She had already started it before she transferred to your class.”

“No doubt.” Professor Raymond smiled, clearly amused. His eyes drifted through the room – in spite of their best efforts, Claire’s lips were clearly swollen and her hair even more unruly than usual. Jamie, although composed, had the look of a man battling a cramp in the belly – his eyes wild and fiery, his smile a bit too tense. “I’m sorry if I interrupted your…work.”

“That’s alright, Professor.” Claire raised from her chair and headed to the door, her neck still flushed. “I think I have everything I need for now. Thank you, Professor Fraser. I’ll be sure to deliver my complete work later.”

Both men stared as she waved and disappeared, closing the door behind her.

“Your fly is open, James.” Raymond warned him in an amiable tone and laughed like a content toad, to Jamie’s utter dismay.

****

“Have you asked for me, Professor Mackenzie?” Jamie announced himself, standing on the threshold of Colum MacKenzie’s - the dean of faculty - office.

“Ah, James – yes.” Colum’s calculative gaze turned to Jamie, as he invited him to sit with a brief hand gesture. He was silent for a while, studying Jamie’s cordial face, his hands entwined in thoughtfulness. “I asked ye here because a pressing matter has been brought to my attention.” He finally said, leaning back against his leather covered office chair.

“How may I help?” Jamie furrowed his copper brows.

“Ye can stop seeing Claire Beauchamp.” Colum said in a cutting voice, which froze Jamie’s insides – was he fishing for the truth, expecting him to confirm his suspicions; or did someone actually see him with Claire? He was certain Raymond knew after their encounter in his office, but was confident the man wouldn’t tell a soul due to their friendship.

“That is hardly possible.” Jamie smiled, trying to look relaxed and uncompromised. “She attends this school and I am a teacher here.”

“I was wondering if I had to remind ye of that exact fact.” Colum admonished, harshly. “Someone informed me that you have been involved in some kind of affair with the lass. I couldna believe it. That a teacher – my nephew, no less – would be sae foolish and careless.”

“Who told ye that?” Jamie gripped his fist, hidden bellow the desk, barely containing the anger in his voice.

“It doesna matter.” Colum shook his head, his eyes demanding and judgemental. “Will you deny it, Jamie?”

Jamie endured the assault of his eyes, his own stormy and strong. Eventually, he sighed and shrugged.

“No, I won’t deny it. I’m in love with Claire and I’m dating her.” He confessed, tilting his chin in defiance. Colum hissed like a harassed animal and pursed his lips in discontent. “I’m a professor here but she isna my student – we only got involved when she quit my class. Nothing happened before!” Jamie guaranteed, tapping his fingers on his leg.

“I had hope the girl was lying.” Colum brushed his thinning hair. “How could ye be sae stupid? How could ye overlook what screwing the lass would mean to this school?”

“What we have,” Jamie hissed, adamant. “Is much more than screwing, uncle. Claire is the woman I waited for all my life. I won’t forsake her – not even for yer precious reputation.”

“I see.” Colum breathed through his nose, like a resentful cat. His eyes searched Jamie’s, as they battle their unwavering wills. “In that case ye have a decision to make – let go of the lass or yer days of teaching are numbered.” And with a magnanimous nod of the head, he dismissed him. “Professor Fraser.”

A Way to You Again: Part 4

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Drinking, Language

Word Count:  1283

Catch Up Here

Summary: Bucky and Y/N have been fairly successful at keeping their relationship hidden from the rest of the Avengers. That is… until Nat walks into the kitchen one night and finds Bucky kissing Y/N. While Y/N is relieved that their relationship is out in the open it soon becomes more complicated than she could have ever imagined.

Author’s Notes: Thanks to the lovely @melconnor2007 for the request. Also – happy early 18th birthday to my cousin Nicole ( @totallygroovyllama ). Thanks for being the sister I never got to have.

Sorry it’s out late – long hours at work plus a bummed out hand make things so much more difficult.

Originally posted by mebeforeyouthings

Originally posted by allthisherostuff

I opened my eyes tentatively – testing the severity of my hangover. The early morning light drifted lazily from the blinds – throwing golden bars on the bed. I groaned as my headache raged. As I looked lazily around the room I saw a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen on the nightstand by the bed. I gratefully grabbed the bottle and glass – throwing back two pills and washing them down hastily. I laid my head back on my pillow with a sigh as I closed my eyes – praying that the pounding in my head would subside soon. The door to the bedroom squeaked as it was opened and I casually opened one eye – just enough to see who caused the noise.

“Hey sis,” I muttered before turning from the bed and vomiting into the waste bin she had strategically placed beside it.


“Oh come on Y/N – you have to talk about it. I haven’t heard from you hardly at all in the last year… now all of a sudden you’re calling me up to meet you… no explanation. I get here and you’re drunk out of your mind and falling to pieces,” Nicole chastised as we walked down the street to get lunch. I winced as her voice grew shriller the longer she talked.

“Okay – okay…. First can we get some food? And could you possibly keep your voice down a few octaves?” I asked annoyed. She rolled her eyes and huffed to herself as we entered the warm little dinner that we always visited when we stayed at the cottage. We picked out the booth furthest away from any windows and sat comfortably in the worn leather cushions.

Nicole eyed me eagerly as the waitress brought us our menus and coffee. She was several years older than me. Where I had been a cautionary tale on what not to do through grade school she was the star pupil. I had dropped out of college after two semesters finding it to not be stimulating enough for me while she had gone on to medical school. She had a family; I had a string of unsuccessful relationships. This thought snapped me back to the present as I casually grabbed a menu and looked it up and down.

“Okay… stop bullshitting Y/N. You know that menu front to back… you’re just stalling,” she snapped as she crossed her arms in annoyance.

“Fine,” I responded as I placed the menu back on the table and motioned to the waitress that we were ready. We placed our orders and then I reluctantly turned to my sister. “First, I’m sorry I’ve been such a shit – I didn’t eat anything yesterday and the drinking, and crying that I partook in caused the hangover from hell.”

“Apology accepted,” she replied as she smiled at me. It never took us long to make up with one another. “So?” she asked raising an eyebrow.

“I started seeing someone in the Avengers… His name is Bucky Barnes.” I was interrupted by her choking on her coffee.

“Isn’t he the one that…” I cut her off before she could say another word.

“He doesn’t do that anymore,” I replied curtly. I had always been particularly defensive of Bucky since I knew him – even before we had started our romance.

“Noted,” she added apologetically as she held her hands up to me.

“Anyways… We’ve been… well I don’t know what you would call it. I guess we’ve been dating for the last five months, but we didn’t tell anyone else on the team… We wanted to make sure things actually worked between us before complicating everything,” I explained as she nodded understandingly. “The day before yesterday Nat walked in on him kissing me so we were forced to kind of let everyone know about it. I was relieved… and well we kind of… I kind of slept with him. Anyways, yesterday morning he left for a mission so I went to the gym with Nat. She proceeded to tell me that Bucky and her had an arrangement similar to ours and he only ended it five months ago… around the same time he started pursuing me… and it was just awful. I had to get away from all of it,” I paused allowing her to analyze everything I had just told her.

“Was this Nat your friend?”

“Yes… well I thought so… She said some pretty terrible things to me and I kind of… well I punched her and I am pretty sure I broke her nose,” I added awkwardly.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, “So I’m assuming this Bucky fellow is something more than a casual thing?” This was new territory for me. I had only seriously dated one other person before and it had ended horribly. After that it was my real of thumb to not get attached. Bucky was different though – in all honestly that’s what I had refused to have sex with him at first. I needed it to be different with him.

I smiled sadly. “Honestly? I think I’m in love with him,” I muttered sadly as the waitress brought us our food. We lapsed into silence as we ate – not bringing up Bucky or the previous days.


“You know… I was thinking,” Nicole muttered as we walked amongst the different shops in town.

“About what?” I asked.

“I haven’t heard you say ‘love’ since… you know,” she paused awkwardly.

“I do know,” I responded curtly. I knew all too well. The only other time I thought I had been in love had ended up being an abusive and toxic relationship. That’s why Bucky’s lack of honesty felt like a betrayal to me. I had been down this road before, and I wasn’t willing to walk it again.

“This Bucky though… do you think that he would have told you about his relationship with Nat eventually?” She asked casually.

“Yes… I mean… I don’t really know, but I would like to think he would. It would have been better if maybe he had told me before we had slept together,” I answered bitterly.

“That’s true… I just… I don’t know. I feel like he knew he would have to tell you at some point – maybe he didn’t want to ruin what he had with you?” she asked tentatively. I shot her a glance as I thought it over. “Hey! I’m just saying maybe there is more to the story!” she added defensively as she raised her hands up at me. “Have you at least talked to him?”

“No,” I responded curtly.

“So basically you cut and ran as soon as you found out?”

I spun on my heel at this so I could turn to look at her face to face. “I don’t want to be manipulated anymore. I needed time and distance to think before I hear him out,” I responded snappily.

“Okay Okay. Remember you called me to try to help you through this, and that’s what I’m doing.”

I sighed as I rubbed my throbbing temples with my fingers. “I know… I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know. Can we go back to the cottage?” I asked wearily. The intensity of my headache had gone through the rough and all I wanted was to lay down and rest for a bit longer now that I had eaten.

“Whatever you want kiddo,” she smiled as we hooked arms and walked back to the cottage side-by-side.

I wanted Bucky there more than anything, but my own fear left me paralyzed. He would have to make the first move if he did really care, because regardless of his intentions for not telling me – this mess was his making. 


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family expectations / sirius black

requested. i have finally posted something and it’s probably crap. i apologize if it is x 

request here


Your elbows were propped on the table, fingers pressed against your temple as your right leg bounced up and down, brows furrowed in concentration. You kept mumbling to yourself ingredients to a potion, your concentration drifting away every time laughter erupted from a group of what seemed to be second years sitting in a corner.

You were at the library trying to revise for your upcoming N.E.W.T. exam in Potions and it was going well till those disruptive kids appeared.

“Powdered root of Asphodel, Wormwood, Valerian Spri-”

“Thats bloody hilarious!”

Your hands clenched into tight fists, knuckles turning white as you slammed them down on the table and abruptly stood up to make your way over to the group. If Madam Pince wasn’t going to resolve this issue then you were.

All you wanted was peace and quiet but it appeared that no matter where you went to revise, distractions always followed you.

“Whoa! Who are you going to kill?” 

Speaking of distractions.

“I’m not going to kill anyone.” You huffed.

“Really? Because your eyes scream murder.” He commented.

You stared at the luxuriant ebony-haired boy, another huff escaping your lips as you ignored his comment. “What are you doing here?” You questioned.

“What? Am I not the type to be found at a library, finding a solid good book to read?”

“You and reading don’t really go hand in hand.” The tone of your voice hinted irritation.  

“Ouch.” He feigned, placing a hand over his chest. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine.” You lied, your eyes flickering over to the group that erupted into another fit of laughter, your hands clenching against your sides.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at you, silence consuming him for a moment as he didn’t want to press any buttons that would cause you to become more irritated than what you already are, so he studied the look on your face in hopes to find evidence about what’s bugging you. The dark bags under your eyes gave away how restless you’ve been, the pale color that covered your usually rosy lips hinted insufficient fluid consumption, and the sight of your unkempt hair showed that you’ve been far too distracted with something that you were neglecting your appearance. And he knew the reason why had to be that you’ve been relentlessly revising for the exams that were quickly approaching.

“Y/N, baby. I think you should take a break.” He said softly, reaching for one of your hands.

You shook your head, biting at your bottom lip. “No. I can’t rest until I take the exam, Sirius.”

“C'mon you’ve been revising all week. A little break won’t hurt, love. We can sneak out and go out to eat or do whatever you want. It’ll be fun.” He tried to persuade but you shook your head again. “Listen Sirius, I’m fine and just need to study, alright? Please just leave me alone. That’s what I want. Peace and quiet with no distractions.” You explained.

“But-”

“No buts, Sirius. You don’t understand. I need to study and you’re not helping. You’ll only be distracting me so please go.” You requested as the edges of your lips twitched into a frown, your eyes closing when he leaned forward to place a lingering kiss on your forehead.

“If that’s what you really want.” He mumbled against your skin. “I’m here for you, you know that right?” His hands squeezed yours, his soften eyes fixed on you.

You nodded but stayed silent, a sigh escaping your lips once you watched him eventually walk away from you. You were angry at yourself for responding to him that way, but you knew that revising was far more important at the moment, especially since having received that Howler not too long ago.

“Y/F/N, your father and I have heard a rumor that you blew up your cauldron in class recently. That indicates that you have made a mistake and such things are not tolerated in this household. You should be ashamed! You’re the Head Girl and a top student! You come from a lineage of Ravenclaws and to make such an empty-headed mistake brings dishonor to this family. It will be in your best interest to maintain top marks in your N.E.W.T.s. or else.”

Your mothers words constantly replayed itself in your head and you knew that if anyone would’ve overheard the Howler, they would have laughed at how your mother was plainly overreacting and you would’ve agreed with them. She was overreacting but she never played around when it came to your academics. That’s why you’ve been pushing yourself past your limit these days, you had to achieve top marks. You feared that wouldn’t be the case with your Potions class though. You had always struggled a bit with the class, not being a natural potion maker like one of your friends from Gryffindor. You tend to mix up the ingredients and never actually had the patience to brew the thing.

You had came to a decision the next day that you were going to skip your classes the entire day, spending your time and attention on revising and memorizing the potions you needed to know instead. It was your absence that caused Sirius to worry even more. That following morning after having found you in the library, he didn’t see you in the Great Hall where you usually sat with your friends and throughout the day you never showed up at your usual meet up spots nor in the classes the two of you shared together. He was worried for you and began to ask around if anyone knew your whereabouts but no one could give him an accurate answer because they were just as clueless.

“B-Bowtruckle.” You managed to spit out, the Fat Lady eyeing you for a moment before opening up the entrance to the Gryffindor’s Common Room. You managed to walk through the entrance without falling, the grasp you had on the bottle of Firewhisky tightening. “Sirius?” You slurred, eyebrows knitting together as you tried to get a good look of the boy who was slumped in one of the couches.

Sirius head swiftly turned to look at you, his eyes widening as he practically flew off the couch and was by your side in seconds. “Have you been drinking?” He questioned, his voice trailing off when he caught site of the bottle held tightly in one of your hands.

“No.” You lied.

“I can see the bottle, Y/N/N.”

“What bottle?” You grinned cheekily at him, moving your hand behind your back.

“Give it to me.”

“No.”

“Give it.”

“No.”

He tried to reach behind your back but you quickly moved, stumbling a bit in the process. “Don’t be stubborn and give me the bottle. I can practically smell the alcohol on you.” He pointed out, grabbing a tight hold of you as his free hand reached for the bottle once more, managing to be successful this time.

“Boo! You’re no fun.” You stuck your tongue at him, crossing your arms against your chest in defiance as you refused to let him drag you to the couch.

“Why are you drinking, love? Especially at this time of night?” He asked.

“Well, why are you up so late?” You questioned.

“Because I was hoping you’d show up with an explanation to why you’ve disappeared all day without telling me or anyone in fact.” He answered.

The only thing your mind was able to grasp though was the Howler your mother had sent, your lips beginning to tremble as your eyes started watering.“I’m so dumb!” You cried, falling to the floor. Sirius couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh, the small smile etched on his lips soon disappearing when he noticed the tears that started to stream down your cheeks. “Ssh baby, don’t cry. You’re not dumb.” He assured, dropping the bottle before sitting down beside you and trying to wipe the tears but you gently swatted his hand away.

Your body was sprawled across the floor, eyes lazily staring up at the common room ceiling, “Yes I am!” You declared. “I’m terrible at potions! I blew up t-that cauldron last week, remember?” Your words were slurred but still understandable.

“Yes, but that doesn’t make you dumb.” He tried to reason.

“Yes it does!” You hiccuped, your arms flailing around as you tried to use proper hand gestures. “It’s a mistake! I made a mistake and in my family that i-isn’t acceptable! I’m in Ravenclaw we’re s-supposed to be the smart ones and I’m terrible at Potions so I’m going to fail my exam and my family will d-disown me and i’ll be homeless and eat sewer rats for the rest of my life because I won’t find a job! That’s why i’ve been studying for that final all day. And oh merlin! I was so rude to you yesterday at the library. I’m such a terrible person! All you wanted to do was help and I’m so sorry! I needed to be alone and to study in peace. I don’t want to be a disappointment.”

Sirius stared at you with wide eyes, not being able to stop himself from smiling at the way you overdramatized part of your reasons. It was clear to him now on why you didn’t show up to class today. You were overly stressed about the exams that were quickly approaching.

“Stop it! You’re laughing at me.” You accused, covering your face with your hands. “I came here to find and talk to you and apologize for being such a mean girlfriend, but you’re laughing at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you, love. I swear. And you’re not some terrible girlfriend. You’re just stressed and I think you’re overreacting a tad bit.”

“No I’m not!”

“Yes you are and do you know why?” He questioned.

“Why?” You whispered, peeping through your fingers so you could look at him.

“Because you’re the smartest girl I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. And don’t say you’re not because you are.” He went on. “So what if you blew up some cauldrons? Peter has blown up twice as many I bet. And if your family is going to disown you because of that then screw them. And that’s coming from the original family disappointment here.” He laughed. “You’re not perfect, Y/N, no one is. So it’s okay if you struggle with a class, trust me. That doesn’t make you any less intelligent. I also don’t think that just because you’re not able to brew up a potion properly it will land you on the streets and cause you to eat sewer rats. Besides, I wouldn’t let that happen.”

You sat up swiftly, elbows propping up on the floor as you felt the blood rushing to your head, causing your vision to blur a bit. “Do you mean that?” You whispered, tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

“Every word.” He smiled. “You’re going to do just fine. And besides, if you do end up living in the streets and eating rats then I know the perfect spell that’ll make it taste better.”

You let out out a laugh, your lips curving up into a smile. “Oh Sirius Black! I love you so much!” You exclaimed, throwing yourself on top of him, your arms wrapping around him as the two of you fell back.

“I love you too, princess. Just remember to take it easy and find some time to give yourself a break.” He murmured, his voice softly spoken as he massaged deep circles onto your back. “And don’t try to live up to some ridiculously high expectations. Like i’ve mentioned, It’s not worth it and it doesn’t make you any less intelligent.”

“What would I do without you?” You mused into his chest, the both of you nonverbally deciding to stay on the common room floor for the rest of the night.

“Dunno, love. Maybe eat sewer rats?”

Not Now

Who would have that that this is the way he would go?

It was a mission they could handle. They had been assured that many a time. So, why had it all gone so wrong?

-

Lance and Keith had been tasked in going on ahead to scope out the ship, and make sure that it was truly empty as they had assumed it to be.

But maybe that was their first mistake.

-

The two Paladins had realized things were too quiet when they had found there to be no traps whatsoever. There had to be at least some traps in all of this.

“Keith, i-it’s too quiet here. Something’s wrong here.” Lance whispered, body taught as he looked everywhere he could. Not having anything happen was worse than having something happen.

“Yea, I agree. Maybe we should - ” Keith would have continued, but a soft ‘woosh’ through the air next to his head alerted him.

“Shit - !” He wheezed, turning his head to follow the arrow-like object, only to see, in a sort of slow motion, the object make its way straight toward his partner.

-

The Blue Paladin had turned to see what had caught Keith’s attention, but felt the air rush out of him quickly.

He fell backwards, not quite able to tell what had happened. All he knew right now was that something hurt like the hottest flames of hell in his chest.

-

The Red Paladin ran for his fallen friend, sliding on his knees next to him. He picked him partially up gently, laying his torso in his lap as his eyes glanced from spot to spot over him.

“Lance, holy shit, are you okay?!” He breathed before his eyes came to rest on the arrow lodged deep into Lance’s chest. It had just barely missed its target - just slightly below his heart.

-

The edges of his vision were beginning to get hazy. He knew where he was - kinda - but thought it strange that it was warm.

Wait.

Floors are cold. So …

Ah.

He was in Keith’s lap. Well then. At least he was warm now. Screw cold floors, he liked this much better.

He heard mumbles. A voice? Oh, Keith. Right.

Dazed, Lance looked up at Keith, blinking before his vision cleared a little bit. He looked - scared? Were those tears??

-

Said Keith was in fact beginning to cry as he held Lance.

The arrow was too far in to try and get out without causing major bleeding. And he was afraid that if he tried to get Lance back to the castle to a healing pod, that it would take too much time.

But he had to do something. He couldn’t just let him die. Not now. Not in his arms.

-

The Blue Paladin could tell he was fading. His insides hurt way too much for there not to be something wrong.

“Keith?” He asked, his usually loud and boisterous voice now scarily quiet.

“Keith … am I - am I dying?”

-

“No. You’re not gonna die. I’m gonna get you out of here, safe, and very much alive.” Keith rattled off, glancing around to see what he could use to possibly help them.

And to his great luck, there was fucking nothing.

-

“Keith …” Lance whispered, even quieter now. The rest of his thoughts were interrupted by his own coughing, which led to blood coming up.

It splattered over his armor, the deep red a stark contrast to the slightly dirty and offset white it normal was. The blue of his symbol was tainted with the blood.

“K-Keith … I-I’m not gonna make it, am I?” He sighed, sagging a little as he began to accept his fate.

He was going to die here. In Keith’s arms. On a supossedly abandoned Galra ship.

What a boring way to go.

-

Keith felt his blood boil.

“Don’t you *dare* give up on me, McClain. I am going to get your sorry ass out of here, whether you believe it or not.” He spat, coming to the conclusion that it may have to be their best bet to just bring Lance back to the castle.

“Everything’s gonna be fine, okay? You’re gonna live, a-and, you’ll get to see your family again. Cuba, right? Veradero Beach?” Keith tried, hoping to instill some motivation into the fading Blue Paladin.

-

Wow, Keith was really pretty, wasn’t he?

“Keith, you have r-really pretty eyes, ya know that?” He pondered, voice barely there now. His eyelashes were fluttering as he fought to keep his eyes open.

But he just wanted to sleep. Sleep sounded nice right now. Maybe he could just take a little nap …

-

A blush filtered to Keith’s cheeks.

“Wh-What? What’re you saying right now?” He rushed out. He was getting worse.

Oh god he was closing his eyes.

“Lance. Lance, stay with me buddy. Stay awake for me, okay? Please.” He pleaded, gently tapping Lance’s cheek to try and wake him up.

-

Man, Keith was really warm. His hand too. Oh, that was nice.

He leaned into the touch, smiling softly as his eyes closed once more.

“Y’re s’ w'rm, Keith~” He hummed, voice unbelievably soft. He felt comfy, and safe.

He was always safe with Keith.

Always.

-

Keith could feel himself losing it. He was scrambling to keep Lance awake, but he knew it was a losing battle at this point.

“L-Lance, no. Come on …” He muttered, eyes wide as they began to tear up again.

He couldn’t lose someone else. Not now.

But it might be the sad truth at this point.

-

Lance’s vision was darkening. It had been, but now he could really tell. It felt like the lights had been turned out.

“Keith?” He asked, one last time, slowly curling into the warm chest plate of said Paladin. He winced at the pain in his chest deepening.

“Keith … tell my family I love them, 'kay? A-And the others. I -” More blood spit up, but more came with the hacks this time. His vision went darker.

“I love you, too.” He whispered, opening his eyes as much as he could to get one last good look at Keith.

The sleek black hair hidden under a helmet looked like the night sky. The violet eyes reminded him of a sunset on the ocean.

He reached a hand up, and cupped Keith’s face ever so gently.

“I love you.”

-

No. No no no no. No. He refused. He refused to have Lance die in his arms.

His breath hitched at the confession. God damn it. This idiot had the worst possibly timing.

“Lance - I … I love you too.” He choked out, tears coming full force now as he cradled Lance in his arms.

The tears stung badly, and he leaned into the gently touch, laying his own hand overtop Lance’s.

“Don’t leave me. P-Please.” He sobbed, tears now falling onto Lance’s visor and face as he wept.

-

Keith was so pretty. Even when he cried.

“I’ll see ya later, Keith. And then … th-then we can be together, yea?” He sighed out, his breaths more raspy and of less oxygen now.

He could feel himself going. It was … peaceful.

-

“S-See ya 'round, K-Keith …” were Lance’s last words before his body finally sagged, now lifeless.

Keith would never see those beautiful blue eyes sparkle as he talked about Earth.

He would never see that stunning smile take over when he looked at him.

He would never be able to kiss those plump cinnamon lips, and would never hear them utter those three words again.

-

No one spoke that night as Keith came back, carrying the fallen Paladin in his arms.

No one spoke of the tears running down Keith’s face.

No one spoke of the heartbreak they all felt.

No one spoke of how Keith cried himself to sleep, gripping an olive green jacket to his curled up form.

Jughead Jones x Reader: The Happy Homeless Couple

Request:

Hi love ur writing can you do a jughead imagine were him and the reader are dating she the reader is homeless like jughead and she lives with him and he asks the reader to marry him. 👑👑👑

 

A/N: Okay this one was cute to write so I hope you guys enjoy it and I lived up to the requestor’s vision. I honestly changed the title like 10 times until I came up with this one. Sorry for being a bit slow on the requests I just want to make sure I am proud of them and hopefully you guys are too. My request are open so go ahead and submit imagines you guys want me to add to my list (Riverdale Characters, my most famous ones are Reggie & Jughead; Currently working one of Archie).

Words: 1641

Summary: Things weren’t good at home for Reader she has no choice but to leave. Jughead being your boyfriend lets you move in with him (He’s homeless too)

Spoilers: You get engaged to Jughead.

Warnings: A bit of a sad beginning = An asshole dude trying to make a move on you.

Your family had taken a rough turn after your father died in a car accident coming home from a business trip. Your mother couldn’t handle the burden of a funeral and you had to plan and organize it, the good outcome is that you weren’t alone and your boyfriend Jughead and your friends helped you through it all.

Your mother started with wine and the wine escalated to binge drinking beers. That escalated to toxic guys from the bar.

Now you had to lock the door in your room and that “safety” was soon ripped away by one of your mothers Neanderthals.

You were fast asleep when you felt a new weight on your bed.

GET OFF ME!” you yelled at the tall drunk man trying to take advance on you while your mom was black out drunk in her room. You pushed him to the floor and grabbed the closest thing to you which was a vase and smashed in his head as he escaped your fury.

You ran to close and lock the door once you saw that he picked it which made you feel so violated.

You packed your school supplies and left your home in the middle of the night.

You would try to tell your mom, but at the moment that was worthless.

You made your way to Jughead at the Twilight Drive-In.

“Babe” Jughead said in a sleepy voice after you blew up his phone and knocked on the door.

His face quickly grew worried as he saw you with your bag and your puffy eyes because of the crying that took place after the incident.

You told Jughead the whole story in between sobs. You didn’t even realize when you both fell asleep as the alarm rang to get ready for school.

“You don’t have to go” Jughead spoke putting on a t-shirt “To school, just take the day off if you need to”

“I can’t, it’s our senior year Juggie” you reassured your boyfriend “I am going to see her to tell her about that asshole.”

“I’m not letting you go alone, what if that asshole is there?” Jughead spoke protectively.

“You can come, we’re just going to be late for class” you added getting out of the drive-in hoping your mom would believe you and try to fix her ways.

You went to your mom that morning, she was getting over a hangover and told her what happened hoping this would open her eyes. She would get better and you both would report the guy.

She didn’t, she blamed you because that asshole “loved her, and you were just asking for it.”

You couldn’t believe how low she’d fallen, in tears Jughead in shock of your mothers venomous words comforted you.

Jughead helped you pack the rest of your things and leave the place once called home and it was once safe with a person who you once you as your mother.

You walked out the door of the hollow, heartless place hoping maybe she would stop you, she didn’t.

You didn’t want to be a burden to Jughead but he refused to let you go unless you stayed with Betty or Veronica. Your friends didn’t even know about Jughead’s situation and you knew going with them would involve too many questions and that was something you couldn’t do. You couldn’t repeat what you told Jughead about that night, you would never hear the end with the whispers of this town.

__

Graduation day came as you and Jughead got accepted to the same colleges and leaving Riverdale just like all of your friends.

You poked fun at Jug about the fact that he couldn’t wear the crown beanie which was part of his signature look, but he decided to wear it under his graduation cap which made him looked ridiculous.

You finally met the infamous Jellybean as Jughead’s mom greeted you both before the ceremony began.

You hoped maybe your mom would show up since the school sent her an invitation about the ceremony, that maybe just maybe like in the movies she would support you and you two would make up and all would be well in the world, but she didn’t show up. You scanned the crowd while you received your fake diploma that only had a notice as to when you’re actual diploma would arrive and there was no sign of her. It was as if she never existed, no texts, no calls, nothing. It finally hit you that the only family you had was your friends and your boyfriend. Maybe that would be enough because at least they cared.

You and your friends were beyond excited about the new chapter in your life that was about to commence right after they handed you your diplomas.

After the ceremony you still saw a bit of nerves flowing in your boyfriends Jughead and decided to confront him about them as you all made your way to Veronica’s house for a graduation party for you all.

You were all going to different universities so you decided to have a graduation party together as all the parents agreed. It was a great idea at the beginning, but it turned a bit cathartic once the planning commenced so you all let Betty and Veronica take care of it.

“Hey is everything fine? You’ve been quite jittery” you asked Jughead linked in hands as he places a kiss on your forehead.

“What? No yeah, I’m good” he answered distractedly as he opened the knocked on Veronica’s pent house door.

Soon inside you met with plenty of familiar faces you would soon start to miss as you would move away and start your new lives.

You walked to the dessert table to grab a small chocolate to ease your appetite before the dinner when you over heard what sounded like Jughead and Archie.

“So todays the day Jug, how do you feel?” Archie claimed

“Good, Nervous, would be better if you stopped bringing it up every second Arch” your boyfriend whispered back.

“Hey (Y/N)” Betty spoke extra cheery which made you wonder if she knew what was going on, but as you were about to ask the blond they had announced dinner and you all made your way to the table and enjoyed the food accompanied with plenty of stories and laughs.

“Attention everyone” Veronica proclaimed as Kevin rang his fork against a glass cup.

“I have a couple of friends who would like to make an announcement” the raven haired girl beamed with happiness as Archie stood up.

At first you thought you guys were going around the table to say some heartfelt things about each other and your time here at Riverdale until the ginger began to speak.

“As you all may know, Jughead and I have been best friends for as long as I can remember” Archie began.

“Well with that memory of yours” Reggie mocked as you chuckled.

“Shut it Reggie” Josie smacked him in the shoulder.

“As I was saying, I am very happy to let Jughead continue but before he does, I just wanted to point out how head over heels (Y/N) has him and I have never seen him as happy as he is with you” Archie motions to you and you blushed still a bit oblivious as to what was going on and Jughead rose from his seat.

“Um, As you all may know (Y/N) and I have been together since I finally had the guts to ask her out in our sophomore year after knowing her all my life. We both have been through plenty of ups and downs in our lives, and believe it or not she is the only person that has ever worn my beanie” the whole room chuckled and you sat there smiling like a dork still not catching a drift as to where Jughead was going with this heartfelt speech.

“She has been my rock through plenty of my problems even before we started dating, and I hope she can say the same about me” he continued and you nodded “but what you all don’t know is that family wise there is not much besides my mom and jellybean and they had to move away, and my girl here lost her father in a terrible way and her mom as well along the way” Jughead revealed as you grabbed his hand and Jughead turned to face you.

“(Y/N) you and I, that’s pretty much all we have. We are going to start a new life away from all of these people, we’ve both have been broken, but we glue each other back as much as we can. We have been living together for the last year or so” and you heard a bit of whispers around the table but you kept your eyes on your boyfriend “I don’t see my life without you babe, I remember you left for an internship the summer after our freshmen year. I couldn’t stop thinking how much I missed you and that’s what drove me to ask you out. It was the best decision I took until now” Jughead kneeled down on one leg as the table erupted with gasps and you covered your mouth with your right hand as he kept hold of your left hand.

“(Y/N), I know we are moving together, but I love you and yes were young and I don’t care. I want to know if you would like to spend the rest of your life with me, be my family and I’ll be yours” he came to a conclusion and you nodded yes with some tears escaping your eyes as he placed the ring on your finger and the room filled with clapping and cheers and you pulled your now fiancé into a hug and a passionate kiss.

Tag: @sgarrett49

Fic: Here Comes Revenge (Negan & Reader) One Shot.

I might turn this into a series of one shots, I’m not sure yet.


Title: Here Comes Revenge

Pairing: Negan & Reader

Summary: Rosita may have tried to kill Negan, but you were the fool who gave her the bullet.

Tag List: @negans-network, @thecynicalnerd, @deadlywinters, @attentionseekingprincess

Originally posted by scarletswitch

1/1

You had seen Negan beat two of your friends to death, and even then he never showed a hint of true anger. He had laughed, taunted, and threatened, but he was a man in control. But this Negan, whose face was contorted with rage as he roared as loud as thunder? This man was furious and you felt fear like you had never felt it before.

Rosita, slammed onto the ground with a knife pressed to her throat, eyed him defiantly.

You wanted to tell her to look away, to show remorse. Even if she didn’t mean it, at least Negan might show her a small bit of mercy. She remained insolent, uncaring of her fate.

But if there was one thing you had learned about Negan it was that someone was going to pay for her attempt on his life, and it wouldn’t be Rosita.

Rick made Negan angry and Abraham died. Daryl lashed out at Negan and Glenn paid the price. Spencer was lying in a heap at Negan’s feet, and you knew someone else would likely join him.

“This little bad boy made from scratch?” Negan’s bemused voice left you trembling. He was more in control now, more focused, and it was terrifying. “Look at those crimps. This was homemade.”

Your heart began to beat frantically in your chest. Rosita’s rebellious glare never faltered.

“You may be stupid, darlin’, but you showed some real ingenuity here,” it almost sounded like a compliment. Maybe it was, but compliment or not it wasn’t going to save her from Negan’s wrath.

“Arat, move that knife up out on that girl’s face. Lucille’s beautiful, smooth surface is never gonna look the same, so why should yours?” Rosita didn’t flinch. The rest of the Alexandrians gathered sucked in a breath.

“Unless…” Negan said, considering, “Unless you tell me who made this.”

Your heart plummeted to the pit of your stomach.

You knew when Rosita came to you, begging for your help crafting that single bullet, that it had been a terrible idea. You let guilt drive you to accept her demands. She made it clear, she wouldn’t survive long after shooting Negan but she didn’t care. She wanted him dead and that was all that mattered. You couldn’t blame her, everyone wanted to see Negan pay.

But now Negan wasn’t dead and you were all fucked.

Keep reading

Chapter V | Tell Me - A Harry Styles Uni AU

Main Story page is here.

Song for the Playlist - Cold Little Heart by Michael Kiwanuka

Instagrams are here.

Word Count - 4000…ish

“Well, well, well…” he said when she walked into the large room they had to themselves and she looked across to him. “Surprised to see you here.”

“Could say the same for you,” she told him as he threw her a pair of gloves and she strapped them to her hands, rolling her eyes at his comments already.

“Thought you’d be shacked up with another one of my friends,” he wanted to take it back as soon as the first word slipped out but it was too late.

Keep reading

[scenario] [request] ice cream & kisses

3: “Please, don’t leave.”
13:  “Kiss me.”
32: “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

(i… uh… love jihoon with constipated feelings?? ji is kind of an a-hole in the beginning but he’s actually very soft for u) 

Title: ice cream & kisses 

Member: jihoon ft. wingman dad seungcheol

Genre: angst w a good ending 

Word Count: 1633

“Leave me alone. You can get so annoying sometimes, you know? Go find someone else to bother.” Jihoon shuts his studio door loudly and harder than necessary, to make his point clearer, leaving you on the other side.

Keep reading

Leave Mandie Alone

I can tell you why you should. I can speak from personal experience as to why you all need to take a huge step back and fuck right on off if you can’t handle a few mistakes.

Let me tell you my story.

I have a deviantart (DA) account. Many, many years ago, at least 5 or 6, I started working as a moderator in a group. Eventually, I ended up taking over the group and am now the founder, i.e, the owner, i.e, the boss, and I have been, for about… umm… maybe… 4 years now.

That’s all well and good, but I stopped using DA around the same time. That is to say, that this group is literally the ONLY reason I even bother to log onto DA anymore. That is literally IT.

And I get it… I could let the group die. Nobody could do anything, the old owner checks in sometimes and is still surprised it’s running. Really, nobody asked me to keep maintaining the group. But I feel obligated to, because I know people enjoy and benefit from it. Much like Mandie, I get no personal benefit for doing that. I don’t get paid. I don’t get any rewards. All I get in return is the occasional person commenting that they are glad the group exists. THAT IS IT.

That being said, however, I don’t owe anybody shit. And neither does Mandie. But people LOVE to act like we admins owe our patrons our ass on a silver platter simply for using our service, in this case the maintenance of a group/tumblr. Let me explain. 

In this group, because it’s on DA, it runs off of submissions. People draw art, post it, and submit it to my group for review. For the longest time, I did it all by myself because having extra mods wasn’t working out. This led to the backlog of submissions stretching out to a month behind schedule, and in some instances submissions would just expire because I didn’t get to them in time.

Additionally, because of how many deviations I had to review, it was easier and far quicker to just glance at the thumbnail and vote it through or deny it based on what I saw. There’s not a not of detail in a thumbnail, where the art is shrunk.

Oh, did I mention? My group is strictly SFW.

Things I have had happen in my group:

- One user absolutely flipped her lid and went apeshit on me because I had accepted a deviation of an MLP character where you could see the silhouette of a clothed nipple. Barely noticeable when viewed on the page, absolutely nonexistent on a thumbnail. Didn’t stop her from ripping me a new asshole over it. Apparently she had an issue with ANYTHING relating to sex - which is fine, I get it, I know why these things happen. Did not stop her from being a total bitch and telling me I had no business running the group. Ironically had a photo of a blue waffle as her profile picture - didn’t respond but did change it when I couldn’t resist informing her what it was alluding to (left a Wikipedia link as so to inform her as gently as possible).

- had another guy tell me how to do my “job”. Would constantly note the group with submissions he felt were unacceptable for the group. Some were justified, most not. He ended up running around to other users, mini modding them and telling THE ARTIST DIRECTLY on the “groups behalf” they had no business putting their art in my group. Had to run after him and clean up, apologize to the artists, told him not to mini mod, but he kept doing it. Would only stop and ended up leaving the group once I refused to remove a submission he didn’t like after repeatedly arguing with me over it.

- was having an issue with the old owner coming back and voting things through differently than the way I had run things now - ended up having an angry user in my inbox demanding to know why her submission was declined when similar ones had been accepted. Didn’t like my answer explaining that the others shouldn’t have been accepted either and that we were having admin issues. Left the group.

- had to close down the featured folder because people won’t read the rules, they’ll just constantly submit to it instead of the proper folder. Closing it was the only way to get people to pretend to read.

- people that constantly submit things that are clearly against the rules- it’s not even hard rules, it’s things like “no commission information, adoptables, or sales allowed!” And yet getting nothing but pages of YCHs.

Those are just the main stories that I can think of right now, over the years I’ve had so many I could write a novel. And that’s just a stupid group on DA.

You all that are whining about Mandie, and throwing nothing but complaints, I’m so tired of all of your ignorant, crusty asses. If you think things are wrong, leave. Nobody will miss you, just like nobody misses the customer that says they’ll never be back. You don’t need to stomp your feet and cry until you get what you want just because one thing is wrong.

If you think you can do better, create another blog and do better. It’s easy until you get popular and your volume of submissions explodes out the ass. It’s easy to sift through every submission until you have hundreds to look through, all the while you have a job/school/baby/etc AND while people are sitting there bitching your head off because “why wasn’t my story posted???? Weehhhhhh.”

Nobody owes you anything.

There’s a difference between making legitimate complaints and bringing legitimate issues to the admin. But here’s a protip for you - if you’re running the owner off the blog, you’re doing it wrong.

I Hate You, Jughead Jones

Anon Prompt: “Could you do a fic where Jughead cheats on the reader and does everything to fix it? (Super angsty please)

A/N: You know what I’m about >;)  

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, depictions of sex, underage sex and drinking, angst.
Words: 2.4k

I hold my drink close to me, laughing as Reggie leans in closer to me; telling me a stupid story.

Putting my hand on his chest, I tell him to stop.

“Reggie, you’re too funny. Stop!” I’m out of breath from how much he’s making me laugh. I was worried about attending his house part, sceptical of the football boys and other people who were invited but I’m having a really good time.

“Y/N, did I ever tell you about the time I thought I was running across a field but it turned out to be a bog?” He asks, grinning at me.

I’m already cackling at the thought of Reggie falling through the water of a bog, I wipe a stray tear away from my eye and try and regain my breath. I notice Jughead standing by the music station with the others. I smile at him but he doesn’t return it, I excuse myself from Reggie’s presence and head in Jug’s direction, when I reach him, I lean up and give him a kiss on the cheek. Veronica, Archie and Betty say hello to me, excusing themselves leaving Jughead and I alone together.

Keep reading

5

Sketch Random + Fanfic Translation.

Translation by: @miguelcool2000


A One-shot follow up story to the comic “Random Sketch”

Title: “If he just…”

“Kill him”

For a second, that idea crossed her mind while her finger trembled over the trigger of her gun.

Her heart would beat painfully inside her chest, suffocating her, the purest and most gruesome hatred was born within her being, rising like hot lava in her esophagus and choking her throat.

The bovine laughed maniacally in front of her , twisting and bending, mocking at what the act one of his henchman had accomplished.

She looked at Nick’s body lying still on the floor, blood starting to form a puddle around his figure.

Judy fought back her own tears.

-          Oh, come on, lieutenant Hopps, don’t tell me you really care for that piece of scum.- Del Toro stated in an annoyingly fancy manner and licking his own lips while stressing each word.

“Kill him!”

-          Shut up! – She rose her voice using all her will not to pull the trigger in that very moment.

“Just kill him at once!”

She heard again her own voice in rage trying to impose its actions. But she couldn’t. She was a police officer, a Lieutenan . She couldn’t let her emotions be shown so easily.

-          Anyway, who’s gonna miss such a scumbag loser like him? It’s a fox, a species that is just a plague to this world…

That was the last straw. How did he dare to say that? What did he know about foxes? What the hell did he know about nick?

“Kill him!”

This time she would follow her instinct.

-          You son of a…

-          Judy, don’t! – shout a voice she thought she was never going to hear again and turned around, her eyes meeting the fox’s looking back at her from the ground, his own shining with an emerald glow, trying to communicate thousands of thoughts, since shouting has left him exhausted – …you are better than that… dumb bunny… - murmured the vulpine with a weak voice and lost consciousness in consequence.

-          Nick!

-          Lieutenant Hopps! – exclaimed a gray hare getting close at full speed while followed by a group of mammals. He went towards his female counterpart whereas the other officers cuffed Del Toro. –Are you ok?

Wilde had interfered at the right time. He have saved her from doing something stupid. She could barely see the metallic cuffs around the ex-politician’s hooves and without even answering to her subordinate she hurried herself next to Nick.

-          Just if you hadn’t save him that day at the court, that idiot would have died long ago and you would live a simple life and I would have everything I ever wanted! – She heard the claiming of the furious criminal, but she ignored him.

-          Nick? … Can you hear me? … Hey Nick, Nick! She said without getting an answer. She remembered the first aid course and pressed her trembling paws against the wound. She had to do something, she had to stop all that blood, but the hemorrhage didn’t seem to stop. – Savage!

-          The ambulance is on its way lieutenant. – He claimed as he checked the fox’s vitals. - You’d better hurry. His heartrate is declining hastily. – He shout over the radio on his shoulder.

A few seconds later the sirens could be heard.

-          Listen to me Lieutenant Hopps – said one of the caribous who checked the one with the emerald eyes – Don’t stop pressing, the wound is in a critical state and your paws are the only thing that keeps him alive at this moment. So, until we can make it to the hospital, don’t let go. Understood?

She nodded and the paramedics performed some maneuvers in order to get them both inside the ambulance.

Everything else was blurry in her mind when she less expected it, she was already sat on one of the enormous chairs in the waiting room of the Memorial Hospital Zootopia.

-          You should take a break – claimed Jack Savage forgetting the formalities, after all despite she being his superior, they were old childhood friends. He offered her some coffee.

-          No. I’m not leaving until I know he’s fine… - answered Judy while accepting the bitter drink.

-          The surgery they are performing will at least take another 10 hours and we still have to prepare the reports of the case – but she didn’t move an inch.

-          I can’t leave him – her eyes filling with guilt.

Jack stared at her intensively and sighed – Well, at least go take a shower, your clothes are a mess.

She was about to refuse again when the one with the blue irises interrupted her.

-          Go to my apartment – he held the keys in front of her – it’s conveniently located just  a few blocks from here, it won’t take more than 30 minutes, I’ll stay here and will call you in case anything happens. OK?

She doubted a little, but ended up accepting and headed to the house of her once neighbor and younger brother’s best friend.

As if she were a zombie, she crossed streets and every mammal she came across stared at her covered in blood, which caused some of the predators to have problems with their collars so she hurried her steps.

She made it to Jack’s place and went straight to the bathroom, she looked at herself in the mirror and became horrified, Nick’s blood was everywhere, her hands, face, clothes, her badge…

In a frenzy, she took off the clothes and quickly went inside the cold water pouring down from the shower since the blood was already dried. Otherwise, it would be harder to wash it from her fur.

Damn it!

How had she let that situation end like it did?

She strongly punched the wall, her knuckles went numb due to the pain.

-          Damn it! - She yelled with rage. She was at her limit, and couldn’t keep enduring her own feelings any longer.

She allowed herself to cry. She cried out of powerlessness, anguish, fury, pain and fear.

She cried for Nick Wilde, a predator, a fox, who she had unrightfully called a murderer and turned out to be the most noble, and kindest of the creatures; someone who was just trying to make his dreams come true and help others with their own.

Someone she labeled as untrustworthy and became my only ally. Someone she came to fear, but now felt a deep regard for to unsuspected levels; because he had earned through all means a very special place in her heart.

Those things she had tried to forget due to the involving circumstances that created a barrier between them. But all those circumstances had vanished the moment she saw him falling hurt, all her prejudice disintegrated in an instant.

Sincerely, what made them different from each other?

Being pray and predator?

A fox and a rabbit?

Male and female?

Though that could be said, that wasn’t what really made them different.

The only thing that could draw that line, where the obedience collars. Those damn collars. She felt embarrassed of the fact that she once thought those artifacts were the best invention in history.

She was wrong. The whole society and she were wrong. It was just a horrible tool to keep the divisions between pray and predator, the generator of an endless cycle of hatred.

Something that wasn’t necessary at all as predators weren’t some insensible beasts. Those things only took away that which thousands of mammals presumed to have granted them, their freedom.

And Nick had been the one to teach her that. He had shown her a whole new world, a cruel image and a beautiful reality of which was actually wrong.

And how did she pay him back?

By letting someone with his own stupid ambitions shoot him right to the heart.

Did she really deserved to carry a badge if she tolerated that the innocent were victims of such atrocities? Not if he died, it would just be a terrible confirmation.

A chill went down her spine.

Nick could really die any second and she was standing there dumbfounded thinking about stuff that didn’t matter in that precise moment.

She shook her head franticly and crouched in the shower.

-          He’s not going to die…- she told herself.

After bathing herself, she turned off the faucet, put on some of Savage’s clothes and hurried back to the hospital.

She made it back faster than she took to leave.

-          Jack. – She called the name of the gray bunny as she made her way to where he was sitting.

-          There aren’t any news yet. – He claimed as he jumped down from the elephant size chair.

-          Good, thanks for the shower, I’ll give these back – she pointed to the black outfit from the ZPD she was wearing – tomorrow. Is that OK?

-          Sure. You know you can give them back anytime.

Five hours passed without any of them saying a word. Hours in which Judy’s heart never stopped beating painfully and aguishly in her chest, just expecting to get some news on the fox’s health.

Her friend’s phone broke the silence that reigned in the waiting room, after all they were in the most desolated wing of the hospital.

The hare with the sapphire colored eyes stepped outside to take the phone call and came back a few minutes later.

-          It was Captain McHorn, he says Superintendent Bogo has given Del Toro’s case top priority, and he wants us to write the reports as soon as…

-          You should go to the precinct first, I’ll call the boss and write the report later.

-          Alright. Do you want me to get your laptop from the office?

-          If you could, please.

-          Ok. Then, I must take my leave. I’ll come back later. Cheer up Jude, that fox is gonna make it – he called her as when they were kids while he smiled at her and pressed her shoulder – excuse me Lieutenant Hopps  - he straightened up before departing and she nodded.

Each minute seemed like an eternity, she looked at the clock on the wall, 4:15 am. The 10 hours Jack had calculated the surgery would last had already passed, but there was no signs of any doctor so far.

As soon as that thought hit her, the red light on the sign “Surgery in process” turned off and an elephant came through the sliding doors.

-          Nicholas Wilde’s family? – He asked as on cue and the lieutenant immediately got close.

-          He has no family, I’m his tutor. - She claimed showing her badge. - How is he doing?

-          He lost a lot of blood, the bullet pierced an important artery and got stuck in a difficult area to operate, he also suffered two heart attacks while on surgery, but we could resuscitate him. The surgery has been a success. We will take him to Intensive Therapy and he will have to stay in observation for the next days, and depending on his evolution we’ll be able to transfer him to a private room.

Her heart burst with joy.

-          May I see him? – She asked after listening attentively to the doctor.

-          Of course, but it must not be more than a few minutes.

-          Thanks doctor.

-          Don’t worry. I’ll tell the nurse in charge the instructions so you can see him, I’m leaving now.

Hopps brought her hands to her chest and squeezed them against herself, shedding another couple of tears, but this time she cried out of relief.

Thank goodness he was still alive.

-          Thanks. Thanks. – She repeated while crouching.

She never thought the day she would be happy to hear the beeping of a vital signs monitor, because it gave her the certainty that, though a bit weak and paused, Nick Wilde’s heart kept beating.

She sat on the booth near the hospital bed, which to her fortune was the right size for the vulpine species.

With some fear, she took his paw between hers, squeezing it gently, trying not to hurt him nor messing with the tubes with saline solutions that were plugged into him.

She admired his red-haired face and noticed how exhaust and haggard he appeared to be, also his fur seemed a bit pale somehow, and she felt a deep sorrow to see him in that state.

She infinitely thanked the fact that by medical procedure the collar that slaved him had to be removed.

-          Thanks for staying alive. Thank you for saving me…

Had he died, she would have gone and killed the son of a bitch who shot him with her own hands. If Nick hadn’t stopped her, she would have become into a murderer. If he had stopped existing, she wouldn’t care about anything anymore.

But he was still here, in the same world as her, and from that moment on she swore that she would do anything within her power and even more to make his dream come true.

To create a world where anyone can be anything they want to be.

However, she knew it wouldn’t be easy, but it didn’t matter. If he just stayed by her side to fight for it, the time they would take to achieve it wouldn’t matter.

After all, she didn’t need anything else but him.

-          …Carrots?…

The End