its not even that good but i spent 7 hours on it

1. The friends you have at the beginning of the year can completely change by the end of it. People change, and if they aren’t improving your life in some way, it’s okay to drop them.

2. Take many pictures. Don’t let it take over your life, though. You don’t want to look back and see that you only captured your memories with your camera lens and not within your mind and heart.

3. Find your safe place. Whether it be in the arms of a certain person or on the balcony of Barnes and Nobles with a cup of soup, find it and don’t let it go. You can have more than one safe place.

4. Be nice to everyone. You honestly don’t know what skeletons people are hiding in their closets. Everyone has their skeleton. Every person on this earth has something in their life or past worth collapsing on the ground in uncontrollable sobs over.

5. Reading is so important. Highlight the things that you read that you find intriguing. Read a lot, it can only do good things for you.

6. Writing always helps.

7. The girl with anxiety has the deepest thoughts. The autistic boy has the kindest heart, and the schizophrenic has the ability to put a smile on your face in seconds. Do not judge character based on a mental illness.

8. Music has an indescribable ability to connect and heal. Let it do its thing.

9. Her prettiness doesn’t make your prettiness any less pretty.

10. Getting close and letting someone in is scary as hell. You know what else it is? Worth it.

11. The minute you feel your happiness being dictated by someone else, take a break from them.

12. Adventuring is a must. Sunsets always help the soul, showing that endings can be as beautiful as beginnings.

13. Spend more time with your parents doing things they enjoy. Later in life, you’ll be wishing you’d spent more time with them than on your Netflix account.

14. Home is not always a place, but whatever you love with your whole heart. I have many homes, and it’s okay if one home doesn’t feel like home anymore.

15. Making someone smile and feel genuinely happy has the ability to warm your heart from the inside out. No matter how much pain someone is going through, you made them forget about it for a few seconds. Isn’t that something?

16. Feel everything and let it hurt, but don’t go back to what broke you.

17. Don’t let fear hold you back from what you want. The view from the other side is spectacular.

18. Tell people how you feel. Even if you’re scared it’ll burn your life to the ground. You say it loud.

19. You find the most extraordinary things in the most ordinary places.

20. Swollen lips and sweaty “I want you’s” can make you feel again, but I don’t want to feel anything if it means having to sit there feeling like the wind is constantly being knocked out of me when he stops calling back.

21. Sometimes the way you think of someone isn’t the way they actually are.

22. Never underestimate the amount of joy the holiday season can bring you. Try and find ways to feel that way all year long.

23. Timing is never going to be perfect; if you care about something enough, you’ll make the time. It’s all about priorities.

24. If women used their words to build each other up instead of tearing each other down, our world would change drastically.

25. Recovery can take 2 weeks or 5 years. You aren’t any less of a person if it takes you longer to find a way to let go of what’s hurting your heart.

26. You only need yourself, but having people by your side trying to understand means a lot more than you might think.

27. You find your truest friends in your darkest hours.

28. You can feel the whole world in a month and nothing after 2 years. Time does not define love.

29. Always say yes to dessert.

30. Concerts make life worth living. So does yelling your favorite song along with your best friend in the car with your best friend with hands intertwined. These are things that show you that you don’t need to be on drugs to feel invincible.

31. So does kissing.

—  emmuuhhhhh, 31 Things I’ve Learned Coming Into 2016
Liability (Part 1)

A/N: FINALLY posting something. This is based off a recent even that happened in my life and I kinda needed to write it all down…let me know what you think! Especially since I haven’t written in forever! 

Dean x Reader, Sam, Jody, Claire

Word Count: 1000+

Warnings: Angst, Swearing

The two of you had avoided each other for weeks.

What went from hurtful words spewed at you in the heat of the moment, to you needing time, which then eventually led to the art of stonewalling that the two of you perfected in. And now here you were with this awful knot in your throat, your mind curled in on itself, two hands firmly holding the steering wheel, driving in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. You couldn’t even remember what the two of you had been arguing about in the first place, but the overwhelming sense of not being of any use to him, of being an inconvenience, a liability, was enough to have you putting as much distance as you possibly could from Lebanon, Kansas.

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INFJ

SUBMITTED by http://infjingontheroad.tumblr.com

INFJ being: Feeling out of place most of the time. Like, I fit in most situations and everywhere, I am versatile and chameleon-like when need be, but as a result I don’t really fit completely anywhere. I feel the most comfortable when I am in my head. As far as relationships go, I notice that it is incredibly hard to speak to someone on equal grounds, I always need a ‘role of reference’ to know how I should pose myself. I am comfortable as long as I can fit a relationship in a predetermined scheme: mentor-student, mother-son, senior-junior etc. but conversations among equals, like student-student, throw me off.  My introversion has always been very evident: I have always needed my alone time, in which I overindulged because I am weary of the outside world and I do not trust my ability to navigate it.

Over-complicating and over-analyzing things is my second nature and it allows me to draw insightful conclusions and see meaningful paths, but it also makes it incredibly hard to act and be reactive to what is going on around me. There is a profound disconnection between the world outside and the world inside my head. A love-hate relationship exists between them: I crave sensory stimulation and meaningful relationships, but I don’t have the energy, will, or patience to invest in them and I content myself with just musing about it. During conversations, I rarely say a word or express my true feelings, rather I go with whatever everyone seems to agree with because preserving the group’s harmony is more important. When a topic I am passionate about comes up, though, I would gladly keep talking about it for hours and when people jump to the next topic I can feel all of my arguments still pushing to come out. Often, I will refer to a past conversation when speaking because I simply wasn’t done with it, even when most people were.

Ni is described as living in the future, which is definitely true: as I’ve said, I am disconnected from the now and have poor detail-knowledge about my past, but Ni is essentially a controlling function, who looks at the future not just to find meaning in the present but to create a specific course of action. It is goal oriented in everything it does, even though the goal, as well as the single steps, is not always well defined. In everything I do and am, I am a perfectionist, I need to always be in control: I set impossibly high standards for myself that I can never live up to because as soon as I reach my objective, the standards rise up again. Ni focuses on concepts and models and Se is very low in my stack, so it is hard for me to remember all of my accomplishments: when I can’t live up to my expectations, my self-esteem sinks a little more because I can’t recall immediately and factually all those times I succeeded.

Ni-Fe forces me to create an ideal image of myself that I need to project unto others because I want them to accept me and perceive me exactly as I want to be perceived, which makes me really hard to get to know and rarely spontaneous. I can be cold and detached when discussing an issue and close off my Fe long enough to choose a course of action without being hindered by feelings, which is why I often appear cold and harsh. Ti also makes me quirky and cynical: I have a dry sense of humor that people seem to appreciate even though it comes out only with those I am more familiar with. My imagination runs wild 24/7: everything I see or think about immediately triggers a process of consequences and I start tracing steps in the future and imagine its development. It feels so real most of the time that, when I come back to earth, it’s strange to see that none of what I have imagined was actually true.

I am an idealist at heart even though it is extraordinarily hard to express with words what I think or believe in. I strive to make people happy often at my own expenses but rarely realize that I am projecting my own idea of happiness onto them rather than understanding what would truly make them happy. Being a good listener is what I am best at: I am that friend that people come to not much for my counsel but for the empathy and my ability to just sit there and listen, even for hours, just hugging you when needed. Empathy is a big part of my personality: I am an emotional sponge and absorb the feelings of the people around me easily, to the point that I need to make a conscious effort to distinguish them from my own and prevent them from taking hold of me.

As far as Se goes, I enjoy sensory stimulation and rewards: I am an occasional adventurer, given some time to adjust to a new situation I will experiment and enjoy it as much as any Se user, even if for shorter periods of time. Routine bores me and I crave new and meaningful experiences. I practice ballet, I draw, I write, I paint, I am learning the play the piano, I travel, I enjoy watching cartoons and go out for long walks, I sing. Nature is always new and magic and I often find myself gazing out of a window and admiring it with wide eyes. I have camped and spent nights awake to watch the stars or wait for the sun to rise, I crave the excitement of new adventures but I not always have the energy for them: the time must be ‘right’. I do tidy my room, stretch, overeat or fast when I am especially down or need to feel in control again, sometimes I muse about getting drunk and let all of my walls down too, but it rarely happens unless I am truly sleep-deprived.

How others see me: people close to me see me as excessively introverted, cynical, logical, cold, wise, responsible, and occasionally too deep. They believe that I should engage with the world more and that I have a tendency to over-complicate simple things. My being ‘dense’ about the environment and what is happening around me occasionally annoys them. People less close to me see me as sweet and caring, timid, quiet and overly silent, maybe aloof. I have been described as a cinnamon roll but also as cold and insensitive. I believe I come off as an ISXJ to most because I rarely show Ni’s musings and my need to feel in control and calculate possibilities to be sure of their outcome can be perceived just as an attempt not to stray from routine or familiar paths.  

The perception of INFJ: mystical beings, too wise for their years, who know everything about you and everyone else in your life. Occasional manipulators, profound spiritual guides who will cry when they mistakenly kill an ant. Impossible to get to know, would rather spend all their life inside their heads than socializing or being in the real world.

Mine

Anonymous asked: Bad boy au / Jimin + 22 Love your writing btw!

;pairing — Jimin x reader

;warnings — smut (I couldn’t contain myself)

;word count — 3k

;Prompt  “You can’t just say that and then disappear!” 

A/N: I’m sorry if this wasn’t what you imagined anon, It’s hard for me to picture Jimin as a bad boy, I think he was more just like a fuckboy here, anyways I hope you like it :) Also, the ending is cheesy af I know!! lol

Before starting your freshman year of college you had one thing clear in your head; no fuckboys. You were gonna study, pass your exams, make new friends, and live an easy and relaxed student life, well as relaxed as being an architecture major at college could be.

You didn’t want to be one of those persons who start college and the only thing they do is go to parties, get high and fuck every guy they see, because you were here to mainly study and get your diploma and you knew that getting involved with guys would mean losing track of your original plan of living a calm student experience.

But you would see that exact plan be thrown down in the form of a sturdy, cocky, obnoxious but beautiful fuckboy.

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bitesizedwizard  asked:

BTS's reaction to you (their crush) borrowing a piece of clothing (i.e. Jungkook's flannel or one of Yoongi's sweaters) because you were cold. (IMAGINE SWEATER PAWS)

Here you go my love:)

*None of these gifs are mine, credit to their owners*


Jin:

All he wanted to do was eat and the easiest way to get food to him during a hard day of practice was if you brought him something. Willing to do anything for him you slipped out of bed, grabbed the first sweatshirt you could find and headed to his favorite take out place to pick up his usual order. When you arrived outside the closed practice door he’d do a double take, smiling to himself as you stood there texting him you were there in his favorite piece of comfy clothing. He’d open the door and kiss your cheek before letting you step in to the room. He’d catch the back of the sweatshirt to make you stop and when you turned around he’d wrap his arms around your neck. ‘I think I’m going to eat and see if I can go home. You look to sweet in my clothes to not spend the rest of the day with you.’

Yoongi:

He’d have just woken up, the two of you had an exciting night to say the least and he was exhausted. The smell of breakfast was what woke him up and with you not being beside him that could only mean one thing. He sat up and threw some pants on before reaching for the crewneck sweater he had thrown to the floor the night before but it wasn’t there. Not thinking to much about it he’d stand and make his way out of the room, the cold air that was seeping through the walls from the rainy day outside making him shiver. He’d make his way into the kitchen to see the sweater handing perfectly around your body. ‘Im cold, why did you take that.’ He’d say, smiling to himself as he wrapped his arms around your waist and bent his head so he could rest it against your neck. ‘Im making you breakfast and thats the first thing you say to me?’ You said smiling as you flipped the eggs over. ‘I take it back.’ He’d say running his hands over the soft material before giving your neck a sweet kiss and removing himself so he could go find a shirt.

Namjoon:

He had a long day and all he wanted was to come come to you. He made you promise to try and wait up for him just so the two of you could go to bed together so when he walked through the front door and called your name while taking off his shoes he was surprised to hear your tired voice calling back to him. He walked into the living room to see you curled up on the couch with a pillow pressed to your chest as you watched what ever late night tv was on. He’d bend over and kiss your temple before you sat up, and when you did his eyes would brighten just slightly. ‘Is that mine?” He said smiling with a finger pointed towards the large sweater you had thrown on. ‘Mmm? Oh yeah, It was on the chair so I just put it on.’ you said stretching slightly. He wouldnt say anything, just smile and pull you in, knowing if he spoke his mind the two of you wouldn’t be going to bed any time soon.

Hoseok:

You had asked him to bring you cough medicine; allergy season was getting to you and you felt like crap. He’d show up to your home with everything necessary and a little more just to make you feel better. When he walked in you would already be walking out of your room to meet him. ‘Hobi, Im allergic to pollen and you brought flowers?’ You laughed, but all he could focus on was his long sleeve shirt on your body. ‘Is that mine?’ He’d ask putting the bags of things down. ‘Yeah you left it here last time you spent the night.’ You said nonchalantly already pulling things out of the bag. ‘Ah.’ was the only thing he’d say before helping you, a smile on his face as his mind raced with reasons why you actually wanted to wear it.

Jimin:

You stealing his clothes was just an every day activity. He always found you wearing his t-shirts and styling them to fit your everyday style and it was his favorite. It was when he met up with you for a quick meal between practice did you wearing his clothes actually melt his heart. You had showed up with messy hair, obviously you had just woken up, and a pair of black leggings and his most worn sweatshirt, to which you kept pulling the sleeve up over your hand and pressing it to your face. He wouldn’t be able to hide his smile as you did this and when you asked him why he was he’d just smile wider. ‘I think its cute you’re in my hoodie.’ ‘Feels like your hugging me.’ you’d say with a blush before he reached across the table to stroke your cheek gently.

Taehyung:

Always being so busy he rarely got to spend nights with you, so spending nights with him were really the only option. You had gone over early, Jungkook had carelessly left the burner on and everyone was freaking out that he would burn the dorms down. You decided to stay and clean up a bit, they were boys after all. You spend all after noon scrubbing and dusting that by the time 7 rolled around and you had set plans to cook a big dinner for them you were exhausted. Stripping of your cleaning product smelling shirt you pulled one of Tae’s button ups on and laid on his bed for what you wanted to only be two seconds. It wasn’t until the boys walked in an hour later did you wake up to their excitement of seeing the house clean. Tae would walk into the room to see you sleepily propped up on your elbows, dropped in one of his shirts. ‘What a good way to come home.’ He’d blush before moving over to you. ‘Wait Ill make dinner.’ You said, still half asleep. ‘No need,’ He’d start crawling over you. ‘Nice shirt.’ He’d say making you look down and smile. And then, cuddles.

Jungkook:

Him coming to see you would be a surprise. He often did things like that since he felt like he was always away from you. This time was no different. At home finishing up some work you’d be startled by the sound of your door opening. You had no idea who it could have been so you quickly stood and peaked around the corner. ‘Jungkook I swear to god! You scared the crap out of me!’ You’d say pulling him into a tight hug. ‘Im sorry, we got off early.’ He’d saw wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. When he pulled out of the hug he noticed you were wearing one of his sweatshirts and a smile would break to his lips. ‘Is this mine?’ He’d ask, even though he already knew the answer.’ ‘I missed you and it smells like you… sorry.’ you said starting to take it off. ‘No, leave it. You’re so cute.’ He’d say before kissing you gently and pulling you in for another hug.

Birthday Cake (Evan/Connor)

This is dedicated to @connorxxmurphy and her wonderful cake! This is for you! 

—–

Evan hummed to himself as he stirred the cake batter. Soft instrumental music played in the background as the oven beeped, signifying that it was preheated.

Evan was making a cake for his boyfriend. Ever since he was little, Evan has always enjoyed baking, but now he had a reason to make a birthday cake for someone!

“How are you doing, Hon?” Heidi poked her head into the kitchen. Evan smiled warmly at her, and started to pour the batter into the pan.

“Good, Mom. It should be ready around 6, and Con and I are having a date here at 7.” He said. Heidi beamed.

“I will get out of the house by then, in that case, don’t want to ruin a special birthday date!” Heidi walked over to her son and rubbed his arms. “Do you have anything else planned for tonight?”

“Yup. Ordering pizza, and I have his favorite movie. For a gift, I got him a new hoodie, and the cake.”

“Aw, Evan, you are the sweetest boyfriend. Connor is going to love it.” Heidi gave Evan a small kiss on the cheek, one last arm squeeze, and walked out of the kitchen. Evan put the pan full of cake batter in the oven, and set the timer.

As he started to make the frosting, Evan let his thoughts travel. Connor and Evan had been dating for about five months now, every day better than the last, but this was the first birthday they had spent together. Evan wanted it to be perfect, and the one thing he knew for sure that he could make perfectly was cake. He hoped that Connor liked his new hoodie as well. Evan has been guilty of stealing a few (or more) of his boyfriend’s hoodies, but he couldn’t help it! All of his hoodies were constantly warm and smelled like Connor.

Evan finished the frosting (It was a regular green frosting with a hint of a mint taste) and set it to the side. The cake still have 10 minutes to bake, so texting Connor seemed like the most attractive idea right now.

Evan: hey connor!

Evan: how does it feel to be an old man now? youre officially 18!!

Connor: i kinda want to take a nap

Evan: con… its 5:30 in the evening, plus we have our special birthday date at 7… pls dont sleep

Connor: bah humbug

Evan: babe…. Thats christmas

Connor: what are you up to?

Evan: stuff hbu

Connor: very specific

Evan: shut up

Connor: im gonna take a shower i will text you when im on my way to your house

Evan: okie dokie!! See you soon!!

Evan put down his phone. There was a few more minutes on the cake, so Evan pulled out the rest of his supplies. He would need to wait for the cake to cool before frosting, but Evan was always impatient when it came to baking.

A mint bar, some sprinkles and more green food dye. Connor liked mint, so Evan couldn’t help but go all out for his boyfriend.

An hour later, everything was set up. The cake was frosted, and was sitting in the fridge (to hide from Connor). Evan had ordered the pizza, and it should arrive around the same time that Connor comes over. Evan’s phone buzzed.

Connor: i know im early but is it cool if i come over now

Evan: of course

Connor: see you in ten?

Evan: yes!

Almost exactly eight minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

“Coming!” Evan said, shoving the cake haphazardly into the fridge. Heidi came downstairs as Evan reached the door. He opened the door with great flourish. “Happy birthday Connor!” He shouted as his boyfriend came into view.

Connor was wearing his standard black hoodie and jeans. His hair was pulled back into a bun, and he was smiling.

“Thank you! How are you doing, babe?” Connor stepped into the house, giving Evan a quick kiss on the lips. Heidi walked in, and hugged Connor.

“Happy birthday!” Heidi said. Connor smiled. “Now, I will get out of your hair. Have fun you two!” In a flash, Heidi was gone.

“Ready to watch the movie?” Evan asked, grabbing Connor’s hand. Connor beamed at him, and let his boyfriend lead the way.

A few hours and a pizza later, Evan had decided that it was time for gifts.

“Babe, you really didn’t need to get me anythi-” Connor tried to protest as Evan ran out of the room to get his gift.

“Shush!” Evan called back, grabbing the hoodie. He didn’t bother wrapping it. “Happy birthday, Connor!” Evan wasn’t going to lie, he almost felt jealous about the look of pure joy that Connor had on his face when he saw the jacket.

“Evan!” Connor had simply exclaimed before slipping the jacket on. It was a good fit, amid the sleeves that went a little past Connor’s hands. “Thank you so much!” Evan kissed Connor before standing up again.

“I got one more thing for you,” He said before going into the kitchen. This time, Connor didn’t protest, only watched him go with wide eyes.

Evan brought out the cake with obvious pride. Connor’s jaw dropped as Evan placed the cake on the table in front of him.

“Ev…” Connor said in a breathy voice. Evan lit one of the candles that was placed in the center and sat down next to Connor.

“Happy birthday to you,” He started to sing softly. Evan was by no means a talented singer, but this was a special occasion. “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Connor, happy birthday to you!” Evan kissed Connor’s cheek and rested his chin on Connor’s shoulder. “Make a wish babe.”

Connor started to lean towards the cake but instead turned to Evan and kissed him deeply. It was only when Connor pulled away that Evan realized that Connor was crying. He quickly blew out the candle and hugged Evan tightly burying his face in Evan’s shirt.

“Hey. what is wrong?” Evan asked softly, feeling panicked. Did he not like the cake? Instead of responding, Connor just shook his head. After a few moments, Connor inhaled a shuddering breath and pulled out of the hug. Evan was quick to wipe away Connor’s tears. “Is it the cake? Is it too much?”

Connor laughed a watery laugh. “No, it’s not the cake. It is just, no one has ever done this much for my birthday, like ever. It means a lot to me.” Evan smiled, and moved close to his boyfriend.

“Alway, Connor. If I could, I would get the moon for you.” At Evan’s words, Connor smiled brightly, and kissed him. “Now, let’s get some cake, okay?”

destielisgonnabecanon  asked:

hey there, i'm writing an essay about how destiel is real for a friend of mine and I was wondering what you think the most important pieces of meta that i should put in? can you recommend anything?

Hi - wow, that’s some dedication. All I did for my friends was send them some links - and, on one memorable occasion, I spent one entire 30 minutes conversation occasionally glancing at my (female&blinded by heteronormativity) friend’s lips instead of looking at her eyes, and by the end of it she was uncomfortable af and half convinced I was into her, and that’s when I presented her with a list of gifsets like -

- and basically dropped my mic and sashayed out.

(Man, I wish my hair was long enough to be flicked back.)

She changed her mind after that, by the way. And it’s really weird how most behaviours and gestures are used on screen precisely because we understand them as human things we all do on a deep level, and yet we’re suddenly unable to figure out what they mean if they’re not about a man and a woman. Uh.

(That applies to me as well, by the way. We see what we know about, not what is actually there, and that’s just inevitable - but can be unlearned, with some patience and many, many mistakes.)

Anyway, here are a bunch of things - I hope they’re useful.


Also, the entire S8, which was basically a demented Jane Eyre AU, and the entire S11, because, again, that Amara thing didn’t make sense without Destiel subtext, and finally @deanswingsbothways’ drunken rant (spoiler: contains the line “Destiel is not a story we are telling each other. Destiel is a story we are being told.” and bless).

You should also consider pimping your essay a bit, because there are a lot of posts and gifsets about how Destiel is regularly paralleled with canon couples on Supernatural, or follows the same rules as romantic relationships in movies. Here’s a bunch of them: Destiel and Sam/JessDestiel vs Dean/AnnaDestiel vs Sam/Amelia, Destiel vs David/VioletDestiel and Spuffy, Destiel and Clexa, Destiel and Phoebe/ColeDestiel vs Charlie/Gilda, Destiel vs every other couple on SupernaturalDestiel and Lucifer having funDestiel and romantic movies, Destiel and the Doctor, Destiel and Belle/Rumplestiltskin, Destiel and Tangled, Destiel and Saileen, and, of course, the beautiful and despairing trainwreck that was Repo Man.

And finally, there was that one time I went crazy and spent an entire weekend mapping every single love trope they’ve ever used around those two idiots in love, because I was just that fed up and the thing’s there, okay, and the more they say it’s not the more layers of tropes and mirrors and longing glances and narrative parallels they keep slathering on top of this thing, so, whatever and who even knows. At this point, you’re free to say it’ll never go canon because they’re homophobic or assume their audience is homophobic, and you’re free to say it’ll never go canon because of internal narrative reasons (God knows both Dean and Cas are never going to believe they’re actually good enough for each other), but to say there’s nothing there at all - that’s beyond whatever.

Anyway, my post is here, and these were the final conclusions:

As you may have guessed, this is something I’m sort of interested in - I came for the monsters and started to reblog stuff out of spite when I realized I was being treated like a crazy fangirl who sees love everywhere because women (right). If you’re looking for more sugary goodness, I tag stuff as destiel, spn meta (my own opinions), awesome meta (other people’s opinions), love tropes and parallels, and you can also have a look at some excellent meta writers who have eyes and therefore see Destiel and sometimes discuss it - people like @elizabethrobertajones​, @grey2510​, @tinkdw​, @bluestar86​, @mittensmorgul​, @floralmotif​, @k-vichan, @treefrogie84, @thevioletcaptain or @postmodernmulticoloredcloak (and I know I’m forgetting someone - that’s what sleeping four hours does to you, sorry). So, again - I know this post is a bit ‘join our cult’ (which is what you asked for, but still), but really - what I like about this fandom is that we can talk about stuff and we can disagree about stuff and still be friends, but this new idea currently spreading in the real world like wildfire - that not only you can have your own opinions (totally legit), but you can also have your own facts - nope. I hope your friend reads your essay (you’re welcome to share it, by the way) and sees that yes, there’s objectively something going on. If they still don’t, the final test is, “What if Cas were a woman? Would you see it then?” 

(And we all know the answer to that question, don’t we?)

Seriously, good luck.


EDIT - More great meta

( @destielisgonnabecanon - you’re welcome! Go win that bet! 😁)

CP bachelor AU: part 13

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12

***

Laurent bends his legs, pulling his ankles out of direct sunlight and back into the shade of the poolside umbrella. He’s had sunburned feet once in his life, and never plans to repeat it. He throws an annoyed glance at Damen, who is stretched out on the adjacent lounge chair. Damen has spent the last three days turning steadily browner while being very lax about sunscreen.

The villa they’ve rented on the west coast of Santorini has its own pool as well as its own tiny courtyard complete with mosaic floor and fountain. Sunshine off white stone and white paint makes it feel overbright and otherworldly during the day, shimmering with heat and light. Laurent tried for an hour this morning to go over his notes on the Theran eruption and the formation of the caldera, but the heat snuck into his brain, and he can’t make himself mind. He feels looser, and happier, than he ever imagined he could.

The ratings for the show’s finale were unprecedented. With the story of Erasmus and Kallias under their belts, the finale was marketed as an even more shocking twist, and Laurent and Damen have become the new faces of unexpected romance. They’ve been asked to present at the Logies, and to appear on every morning show in the country.

Laurent has never been a celebrity in his own right, nor wanted to. He’s… adjusting.

The most obvious benefit is that Damen’s stock in the eyes of his PR department has shot way, way up, and his father has–after a long talk with both Damen and Laurent, which left Laurent feeling like he’d run a marathon–agreed that Damen will assume control of the company as planned. Theomedes looked like a man who’d already planned the first three years of his luxury retirement and had one impatient foot out the door; he was ready to throw Damen the reins immediately.

Damen promptly turned around and declared that he was leaving the company in the care of his brother Kastor for six months, extending the leave of absence he’d taken to come on the show.

“To do what?” Theomedes demanded.

“This and that,” said Damen, eyes dancing at Laurent. “Expand my horizons. Travel.”

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Caged (7)

Synopsis: What happens when Loki meets someone who actually calls him on his bullshit instead of running and hiding?
Word Count : 1084
A/N: Have a good weekend my precious humans. Part 8 is already half way written by the way. I have Bronchitis so got some time to write.

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six

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Uma X Harry Headcannons

I’m new to the descendants fandom so bare with me, I really hope these don’t suck. I haven’t read the books or anything but I just really love these two together. Enjoy.

 

~They have a mutual understanding about their relationship. No strings whatsoever.  If they’re are strings, there are feelings and feelings equate to weakness. Neither of them can afford to be weak, especially on the Isle.

~The physical side of their relationship didn’t start until after the core four left. Mainly because the two were so wrapped up in Mal and all her glory to notice the potential they had. Mal and Uma had a complicated relationship, they were either scheming together or waging war against each other. There was no in between. A relationship like that kept Uma on edge, she didn’t have as much influence as the other VK, nor did her name strike fear into others the way Mal’s did. So she spent the majority of her time watching her back or making sure Mal watched hers. And Harry, he and Mal were known to have a bit of a thing going on, nothing serous but it was enough keep him up at night with thoughts of her.

~They constantly teased each other over their relationships with Mal, well, before she left them.

     “ Ay Shrimpy- I mean Captain, working on another failed attempt at undermining Mal." 

                                   "You’re hilarious hook, really, I’m dying of laughter.  But shouldn’t you be somewhere kissing her ass right about now.”

~When Mal announced she wanted to be good on live TV, it was the ultimate betrayal. Uma didn’t speak to anyone for weeks and after that incident no one but her crew is allowed to mention that traitor’s name around her. Unless they’re bad mouthing her.

~Unlike the majority of the people on the Isle, Harry wasn’t that surprised when it happened. He knew Mal after all, he knew that she longed to be accepted and loved by those around her without having to watch her back 24/7. He knew she wasn’t all bad, no matter how much she pretended to be. He wasn’t shocked, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt him. He'd never admit it though.

~The first time they hooked up, it was during the citizenship ceremony. A day where the former villain kids would finally become official productive members of the Auradon society. Mal couldn’t stomach it so she left her mom’s shop and looked for solitude. Instead she found Harry on the black sands of the Isle, looking out onto the untouchable ocean. She didn’t say anything as she sat beside him, for a while the only thing they did was wallow in their own misery. They’ve must’ve been there a whole hour before Harry spoke up. Said something stupid that Uma can’t really remember. She didn’t let him finish before she smashed her lips into his. He didn’t pull away, just kissed her back, harder, faster, needier.  They both needed this, they needed to numb themselves.

~Sometimes, in the mornings, whoever wakes up first likes to watch over the other. They enjoy the feeling of seeing the other so peaceful, so free of the problems this cruel world has forced upon them.  It puts them at ease. They both never get caught, they’re too sneaky to get caught.

~Harry likes to call Uma love when they’re alone, or with just Gil who’s usually to spaced out to notice. He doesn’t use the nickname in public, he knows better but he doesn’t hesitate to use it when they’re alone. She never reacts but she likes the way it rolls of his tongue.

~Uma taught Harry how to swim. It was a nice experience, one of the purest memories either of them had. The lesson only lasted an hour and a half before things got a little too feely for both of them. It came to close to date material, they never mention it. But to this day, whenever Harry looks out onto the water he can’t help but to think of her.

~Harry’s the only one whose seen Uma without her braids. Sure it was an accident, he wasn’t even supposed to be on their ship in the first place but he needed to get away from the Jolly Roger for awhile. He didn’t know Uma would be there, in the middle of the night, delicately undoing each and every braid.  He watched from a crack in the doorway that lead to the captain’s quarters. Her real hair was a big array of  aqua and black curls, long and beautiful. He had never seen her look so beautiful. The first urge he had was to walk in and stroke each and every strand. To kiss her shoulders and do things that he shouldn’t do when they were, y'know, doing that.  Because if he did those things, this time would mean more than the others. They’d both be vulnerable, in more ways than one and that was something he couldn’t afford to be. So he turned his back and made his way to the black sands, hoping to escape his thoughts of the sea witch. He didn’t succeed.

~Uma is the only one who can read him. The majority of people on the island think its impossible and they’re wrong. He’s just not easy to figure out. To the outside world he’s either as cold as ice, or completely and utterly insane. But she knows of the mask he wears, whenever he feels too much, he’s stone. But he can’t hide the emotions that run wild in his eyes. And when he’s feeling nothing, you’ll see his wicked grin and unprecedented outbursts. His small attempt at forcing himself to feel something, anything. And his eyes, behind the constant eyebrow movements, are dead. She knows this and she’s completely aware of how when they’re alone, his face is like hard. Almost like a statue . She knows he feels things for her, but she’d never hold it against him. She could never do that, she would never want to either. Uma couldn’t hurt him because deep down she knows, she has feelings for him too. He’s not the only one wearing a mask.

~Over the course of their relationship they’ve grown a deep respect and mutual understanding for each other. DO NOT CONFUSE IT WITH LOVE! It’ll never be that…..

Critical Role fandom: I think I know what’s going on here

I think I figured out what the problem is here.

Every week, especially around big battles, there’s always this burst of negativity. Usually in the twitch chat and on reddit, but it’s on twitter and tumblr too. You all see it. People getting up in arms about rules, what it says in this book or that book, what a character “should” have done, etc. 

Leaving aside all the vitriol directed at Keyleth as a character and Marisha Ray for being A Woman In Gaming, and Vax as a character for being Openly Depressed (I could rant about that for 500 years but the short of it is, you need to take a good hard look at yourself if you spend every week spewing hate at these characters for the “crimes” of Being a Woman and Being Depressed respectively. Please take some time and consider why it is you have all this hatred that you use to lash out against people, especially women, you might wanna work on why that is.) Leaving that aside, I think I have figured out the problem here:

There is a fundamental confusion on the part of some fans about what Critical Role is. It is NOT one of those nasty D&D games where the GM is your enemy and out to murder you. It IS a longform improv drama/comedy web series that is released weekly and is a massive company asset.

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#51 Milkshake and Concert Tickets (Harry Styles)

Summary: The one where Y/N makes killer milkshakes, and Harry is a little sad.

Snippet: “You know, I make an awesome Belgium chocolate milkshake which is amazing for heart breaks,” I looked up to meet the eyes of the cafe girl wiping glasses. 24/7 this cafe remained open, this girl looked around my age, was it even safe for her?

“Who said I had a heartbreak?” I asked, keeping my voice a little different. I wasn’t in shape to be Harry Styles just this moment.

“It’s killer for midnight blues even,” She said, stocking the glasses back on the shelves.

“It’s extra calories.”

“You’ll burn em,” She laughed. Did she know who I was? I was glad she wasn’t focusing it on that, at least.

“I’d love one.” I saw her work around the shop. Putting one scoop of ice cream, then another, milk, then sugar - I’d need an extra session at the gym tomorrow.

“There you go,” she placed the heavenly looking glass in front of me. God, it’s amazing.

“It’s good,” I nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” She took a seat at the counter and opened her book. Something something…empire.

“What is that book about?” I asked.

“Oh, Britain and its colonies.” She said, taking a sip of the coffee in her glass.

“Of how great it was?” I laughed.

“How it became great by ruining everything else,” I shut up.

—-

“Harry, I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what happened to me. It just..happened. And, I’m so so ashamed of myself.” This is how I was still awake at 4 AM. I’m confused if it was an involuntary decision of accepting to meet her in a coffee shop after midnight or there was something left between us.

“Please say something, Harry!” I tried to get myself incognito. I figured the black hoodie and the track pants hid me and my emotion burning inside pretty well in the mirror. “I know you’re mad at me. I know you hate me right now. But,” I wanted to hit her. I wanted to take her to the top floor and push her from there. She did the same to my heart. “It wasn’t technically even cheating, Harry,”

“How many types of cheating are there? You had your tongue pretty much down his throat, his hands on your bare ass, both naked. That pretty much is cheating.” I tried controlling my tears. Crying wasn’t good, crying made you look weak. It didn’t matter if you thought that maybe crying was relieving, refreshing, the world saw it as weak. She saw it as weak.

“We weren’t even together, Harry!” Fuck. Of course. Because I didn’t ask if she’d be mine officially. All the dates, messages, late nights, kisses, fuck.

“Why are we having this discussion then?” I asked. Before she could say anything else, “Just go.” She is leaving. Last chance. Should I? Would I want to stop her? …No.

This is the fourth one, Harry. The last one had a problem with the term girlfriend, the one before that with fame, the one before that found me too available. Shit, shouldn’t bang my head on the table. It hurts now.

“You know, I make an awesome Belgium chocolate milkshake which is amazing for heart breaks,” I looked up to meet the eyes of the cafe girl wiping glasses. 24/7 this cafe remained open, this girl looked around my age, was it even safe for her?

“Who said I had a heartbreak?” I asked, keeping my voice a little different. I wasn’t in shape to be Harry Styles just this moment.

“It’s killer for midnight blues even,” She said, stocking the glasses back on the shelves.

“It’s extra calories.”

“You’ll burn ‘em,” She laughed. Did she know who I was? I was glad she wasn’t focusing it on that, at least.

“I’d love one.” I saw her work around the shop. Putting one scoop of ice cream, then another, milk, then sugar - I’d need an extra session at the gym tomorrow.

“There you go,” she placed the heavenly looking glass in front of me. God, it’s amazing.

“It’s good,” I nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” She took a seat at the counter and opened her book. Something something…empire.

“What is that book about?” I asked.

“Oh, Britain and its colonies.” She said, taking a sip of the coffee in her glass.

“Of how great it was?” I laughed.

“How it became great by ruining everything else,” I shut up.

With half my drink down, “Can I ask you something?” She looked around wondering if there was anyone else she was talking to.

“Sure,” She closed her book.

“Why are you working so late at night? It’s not exactly very safe.”

“Before you get any ideas, I will warn you that I’m a black belt, and I can slap real hard.” She said with a straight face and then giggled. I took a deep breath, smiling a bit. Could she see, under my hoodie? “Well, I was free this month because my UNI gives time off for writing my dissertation. So, I took the night shift and changed my sleeping schedule.”

“A lot of trouble for a night shift?” I questioned.

“It pays more, and I needed the money,” She smiled.

“Paying for the UNI?” I asked. I was seriously blessed.

“Umm no,” She shook her head. “Parents got that covered. It’s for my own interests.”

I smiled, taking my hoodie off, watching if her smile changed. It didn’t, “Tell me more,” She laughed.

“Well, you see there is a concert this month, and this girl at school, she can’t go, and she is selling her ticket. I want to buy it. But, I just feel too guilty asking my parents to pay £150 for a concert ticket so, I plan to use my daily pocket money and then, cover up my daily expenses from this job. I will actually come out with more money in the end so, it isn’t a bad deal.” She said, the last thinking more to herself.

“The concert is that important?”

“It’s my dream! I’ve waited seven years to see him perform live. In person live, cause Media just doesn’t do it. It’ll be my first big star concert as well. Plus, he is a brilliant performer so, this late night is worth it.” She looked at me with big eyes of excitement, “Do you want me to make you another one?”

I looked at the glass. A double extra lesson at the gym it is, “Yes, please. It is magic.”

“I told you.” She got working.

“So, when are you writing your dissertation?” I asked.

“I’m trying to in the afternoon and the evening. Unfortunately, London made me a morning person, but it’s all about habit. I have all my material set now, so I just have to get typing.” She kept talking while making the milkshake. It was 5 AM.

“Hello, could I get to Cappuccino’s to go, please.” A lady came in, and I put my hoodie back on.

“Of course, late night flight?” She asked.

“A little too late. My husband’s fanatic as well. Three hours before the flight is mania!” The woman laughed.

“Oh no,” The girl shook her head so, easily conversing with strangers. “I have an uncle who took us five hours before, and the flight got delayed. Your husband is an angel!”

“Five hours! What did you do?” She asked.

“Oh, we ate and talked. Do look for the sleeping benches. They’re located closer to the boarding area. We discovered ‘em too late. There you go, two Cappuccinos!” The lady gave her the money, and some extra tip in the jar.

“I will look for the sleeping chairs first!” the woman laughed.

“Have a safe flight!” The girl waved, so cheerful at 5 AM. “Your milkshake is almost ready! What were we talking about?”

“It’s your first concert?” I asked, shocked a bit.

“Oh yeah! You see, not technically cause, I have gone for the local bands before, but this one is the huge one. I always found the ticket money too obscene. Back home and, here as well. I just can’t give this one up.”

“It’s a dream,” I remembered as she placed the second glass in front of me.

“It is!” She went back to washing everything and keeping it in place while I devoured my shake. “It is like one of those things that you know is too expensive, but you just can’t let it go. Not that I couldn’t afford it,” She was talking a bit to herself too, “but, my parents are paying an obscene amount for College, and it is my post graduation, and then living in London isn’t cheap. And, it’s my obsession. I can’t waste their money on it. If it was my money, it was money well spent, but it isn’t. I’m hoping it’s worth it, at least. He is said to be an angel on stage.”

“Who is this person you’re talking about? Ed Sheeran, umm who else is performing -”

“What time is it?” she looked at the clock. “5:30, well my shift gets over at 6 so, if you want another shake, tell me now!”

“What do you put in this shake? It’s so calming.” I leaned my head back. My heartache seemed to just escape in this ecstasy.

“It works for me, as well! It’s the chocolate, I feel!” She laughed.

“Oh wait, let me pay up since, you’re finalising accounts,“I said, taking out my wallet and giving her a card. She didn’t say anything after she saw my name even. I hardly had such interactions these days.

“There you go,” She gave the card back.

“You know working at night isn’t so bad either. You get to know so many stories. Just yesterday, I had this old woman who came in with a picture of her husband. She ordered for two butterscotch ice creams and kept one for herself, and one in front of the picture. She told me that this was the only memory she had of him that she could remember. Late night butterscotch ice cream to make the memory a little clearer. Like wiping a foggy glass with every bite. I write stories, it’s what I want to do in future as well. You find something new every night.” She smiled, with a dreamy look on her face.

“I really hope that concert is the best night of your life,” I said. Finding a sudden calm to my heart as well.

“I hope too. He never disappoints. I hope it is as magical as that milkshake,” She said with a look of positive belief.

“I’m not late! I know I’m not late!” The door banged open, and we both turned to see an older woman coming in.

“You’re not! You still have five minutes!” The girl laughed.

“Oh thank god! And please sleep when you get home! And, quit the job at the studio! Or quit this one! I’m worried about you! When do you sleep, when do you study! It’s LSE, you can’t give them shit. And when do you eat!” The woman kept talking to herself as she went inside.

“You work two jobs?” I looked at her with wide eyes.

“Just this month, it’s an expensive ticket!” She shrugged smiling.

“You study at LSE?” I asked.

“Yep.” The woman came back, “I’ve set everything to go, so there is not much to do. The truck will arrive in a while so, you’ll have to restock.” She picked up her jacket and her bag. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything else?” She asked, again and I just shook my head. “Well, it was lovely meeting you!” She nodded and walked off.

“Hey!“I called out as she pulled the Cafe door. "You didn’t answer my question.” She frowned, tilting her head, “Who is the artist?”

“Oh, I just served two magical milkshakes to him. Lovely meeting you, Mr Styles!” She smiled and closed the door, behind her. I took a seat, just shocked.

“Y/N” Maria called me as I entered the shop for my night shift. I hope I didn’t screw anything up since my last work boss was cross with me today. “That guy you like, Harry Styles. He dropped this letter for you. Asked your name and everything. Two girls sitting here went absolutely crazy and then, I realised.

Shocked and a little ecstatic, I took the envelope from her hand. It was in his official paper and his handwriting!

Dear Y/N,

Attached behind are two concert tickets, front row to my show here in London.
I hope you have more magical nights in this city, just like that milkshake. I’ll take care of this one.

Thank you for ‘em,
Harry


Please tell me what you think about this?

Comments?

Masterlist

Copyright ©theStylesproject 2017: ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. THIS WORK CONTAINS MATERIAL PROTECTED UNDER INTERNATIONAL AND FEDERAL COPYRIGHT LAWS AND TREATIES. NO PART OF THIS WORK MAYBE REPRODUCED OR TRANSMITTED IN ANY FORM OR BY ANY MEANS WITHOUT EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM theStylesproject.

Blind Side - Chapter 2

Intro | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

You sat on the balcony of your Manhattan apartment, a glass of chilled rosé in your hand. It was a warm summer night, and you had come out to watch the sun set. Not your usual cup of tea, but you had to do something. It had been a week since your encounter in his office, and you still couldn’t get Mr. Thomas W. Hiddleston off your mind.

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empressfortuna  asked:

Do you have any advice for someone putting together an RPG system for fun and to maybe play with friends? It's something I've started a couple of times (and I have a concept I really like sitting around that I'd like to try to flesh out into a system at some point), but I'm interested in what advice an industry professional has for an amateur.

Sure thing:

1. Start small.

If you’re an author, you don’t write the next Game of Thrones as your very first work, and if you’re a game designer, you don’t go straight to writing the next Dungeons & Dragons.

A good target for a beginning designer is a game that can be set forth in about 5000 words - i.e., basically a sixteen-page pamphlet if you’re aiming for print publication. Have a look at other very short RPGs to get a feel for what the minimal set of stuff you need to include is. Good examples include:

Several of these look like they break my length guideline, but that’s because they include introductory fiction, sample adventures, GM advice sections, etc. Ignore all that for now - zero in on the rules themselves.

2. Start with premise.

Not setting, not mechanics - if you start with those, you’ll end up with a collection of neat worldbuilding bits and dice-rolling tricks that don’t actually add up to anything.

Have a clear idea in your head of what the prototypical session of your game, the Platonic ideal of an adventure, looks like from beginning to end, and ensure that all of the material you write - rules, setting, etc. - directly supports that premise. You can branch out later, but it’s absolutely critical that you get that core right first. If you’re not sure whether a given piece of material directly supports that core? It probably doesn’t - lose it.

3. Outline, outline, outline.

Resist the urge to just leap in and start writing. You can note stuff down for later if you want (see point 5, below), but if you just start writing, at best you’re going to end up with a disorganised mess; at worst, you’ll become irresolvably stuck when you run into some critical aspect of your premise that you haven’t thought about yet.

Good organisation is much more important in game rules than it is in prose fiction, so effort spent here pays off huge later. A good game outline should ideally drill all the way down to what you plan to talk about in each individual paragraph. Use headings and subheadings if you have to. When you’re finished, you should be able to start writing your game simply by picking a portion of your outline and filling it in.

4. Give yourself deadlines.

This is the corollary of point 1, above. Even within a work of limited scope, it’s easy to iterate forever and never get anywhere, or to turn things over and over in your head without ever committing it to writing until all your enthusiasm for it dribbles away. Your first RPG should take no more than a couple of weeks to write; make time to work on it every day during that span.

(In fact, writing a complete RPG of this scope in a single day is an exercise that a lot of designers use to keep themselves sharp. You can Google “24 hour RPG” for numerous examples. Do not attempt to do this as your very first game, of course - it’s basically hard mode game design.)

5. Take notes.

Once you’re in the game-creating headspace, neat ideas on how to address various bits of your premise will be occurring to you at all hours of the day. If you have school or a day job, it’ll often be at times when you can’t drop everything to chase after the idea in question. You may be confident that you’ll remember it for later. You will not. Keep a notebook or a tablet on hand so that you can jot stuff down as it occurs to you.

6. Be a dictator.

Don’t be afraid to tell people how they ought to play the game. Some folks will tell you that this is bad design. These people are wrong. All game rules encode assumptions about how the game ought to be played; some games are merely more honest about it than others. You’ll save yourself a heap of trouble by being one of the honest ones.

7. Beta readers. Lots of ‘em.

This ties into the preceding point: as you write, you’re going to be making a vast array of assumptions about how the game ought to be played and how the rules are supposed to be executed. Many of these assumptions will seem so obvious to you that it wouldn’t occur to you to write them down, or will be so deeply embedded in your thinking about the game that you don’t even realise you’re making them.

The ability to step back and go “okay, what assumptions am I making about the player’s understanding and prior knowledge, and are these assumptions warranted?” is a skill. Unless you’re a technical writer or something in your day job, you do not yet possess this skill. The upshot is that your first attempt at a game (and your second, and your third…) will be incomprehensible to anyone who’s not you.

This doesn’t mean you’re a bad game designer. It does, however, mean that you need to get as many sets of eyes on your work as possible, and you need to respect and seriously consider the questions they ask, no matter how obvious the answers feel to you.

8. Never throw anything away.

You’re going to have many ideas that you can’t find a place for in your game. You’re going to have many more that you end up cutting because they turn out not to directly support your premise (see point 2, above). Don’t just delete them - keep a master document of your of unused ideas, preferably on Google Drive or another cloud-hosted service so it’s always accessible and impossible to accidentally lose.

Not only are you accumulating a store of material for future projects, but emotionally it’ll be a lot easier to give material you’ve put a lot of thought and work into the axe because it’s not working out in your current game when you can tell yourself that you’re not getting rid of it for good: you’re just not using it right now.

RIP To My Youth pt. 3

*To be read in Britney’s voice* It’s been awhile… I know I shouldn’t have kept you waiting… but I’m here now.

Previous chapters: Part 1, Part 2

Description: Saturday has finally arrived, which for Y/N means only one thing… Cheryl Blossom’s highly anticipated party. And what’s Blossom party without drama? A little game of truth or dare never hurt anyone, right?

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Word Count: 4170

Warnings: A swear or two



I woke up to the blaring noise of my phone’s ringtone. No please no, just five more minutes. Who the hell could be calling me this early on a Saturday?

I reluctantly rolled over to check my phone’s caller ID to see who decided to bother me at 8 am. ‘Veronica Lodge’ it read. Groaning, I held the phone up to my ear and answered.

“Hello?” I said in a groggy morning voice.

“Good morning my little protégée, the shops open at 9 and we’re going to need to make a head start on things if we’re going to Cheryl’s party tonight as well” Veronica chirped. Judging by the chipper tone of her voice she had been up and ready for awhile now.

“Oh god I almost forgot about the shopping trip today, do we really need to go so early?” I yawned, sitting up in bed in an attempt to wake myself up more.

“Yes Y/N, I have the day planned out. Me, you and Kevin are going to shop not only for your new wardrobe but also for killer outfits for the three of us tonight. Then we’re meeting Archie at Pop’s a little later on, and then you’re coming to my house to get ready for the party. And then-”

“And then we go to the party okay, I got it, I got it” I cut in.

“Perfect, Kevin and I will be at you house in about an hour! Chow” she finished as she swiftly hung up the phone.

I tossed my phone on my nightstand and got out of bed in pursuit of the shower, which I knew would help give me the strength to get through this day.

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An open call for episode transcripts from our Travelers, struggles in creating the Penumbra as a small team, and why we need your help

UPDATE: Some extremely generous fans have stepped up to organize @thepenumbrapodcasttranscripts , so please head over there if you would like to participate! We are deeply touched by the speedy response to this post.

Hey there Travelers,

Kevin here. Over the thirteen months since the Penumbra’s first episode, we’ve received a lot of requests from fans for access to episode transcripts. Many of you have contacted us with well-reasoned arguments about accessibility for those with hearing and processing disabilities. Many of you have expressed frustration about the $7 Patreon reward level, at which donating patrons get to look at the scripts the actors see.

We’ve stayed quiet on this so far, but we haven’t been ignoring you. We recognize your frustration. We apologize if the packaging of our show has made you feel like we don’t notice you, or listen to you, or care about you. We do. Internally we’ve been discussing this for months – and after debating it and trying a lot of things, we’ve come to what we think is the only conclusion that makes sense given our situation. I’ll tell you the conclusion first, and then move backward to our reasoning:

We are asking for help from you, the fans, in making these transcripts a reality. If fans create a tumblr or website that features fan-made transcripts of every episode, we will gladly post a link to it on our website and promote it whenever a new transcript has been completed.

We have asked for this from you all before, but it understandably got lost in the weeks and months that have passed since. As a result, should fans express interest in creating transcripts, we will be reblogging this post once every two weeks until all of the transcripts have been completed.

We recognize that it is frustrating not having the supports you need to access our show as others can. We recognize that asking fans to create those supports is also frustrating. Please know that we are frustrated, too. We are living a very uncomfortable, very difficult reality in creating this show, and up until now we’ve kept the details of that reality invisible to you all. But if I can ask for just a few minutes of your understanding, I hope I can communicate clearly about the obstacles in the way of us creating these transcripts, which are also, not coincidentally, the biggest threats to the Penumbra’s continued existence in general.

What follows is an in-depth look at my reasoning. If you’re satisfied with the above, hey, skip it! You can find the couple of transcripts we had time to make here (as well as one by a fan who asked to be credited as subtlepuns), so go for it, work together, create a platform for them, and feel free to use what we’ve made to get you started. If you’re still bothered, or you don’t understand why we can’t just make all the transcripts ourselves, I ask only that you read and think about our position, here. It is not one made hastily.

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Undercover•Shawn Mendes

request: Can you write an imagine where you and Shawn are both famous singers and are dating, then you both see each other on the red carpet and cuteness ensues.

a/n: !!!!Famous couple AU!!!!

Originally posted by illuminateshawn

MASTERLIST - Hey come and check out some of my other mildly average writing!

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Confidence

Spencer Reid

It was dark when you woke up. You searched for your phone, surprised to see that it was only 11:17 pm. You had text messages from Garcia and Morgan, all wishing you well and begging you to join them at the bar if you felt better.

You did feel better now you’d slept non stop for the past 5 hours. The team had returned from their latest case yesterday and you had spent most of the day completing the mountain of paperwork that went with it. It had given you a migraine. Penelope and Morgan had wanted the team to go out together for drinks afterwards but JJ had wanted to get back to Henry and Hotch had needed to spend some time with Jack.

That had left you, Reid and Rossi for them to bully into taking part in their drunken shenanigans. You’d been game originally until the migraine had hit you around 4pm and you’d felt the desperate need to retreat to a dark room to hide.

Spencer had seen you wincing and rubbing your temples. “Go home” he’d said tenderly, understanding the pain you had been feeling. You took his advice, texting Penelope as you headed to the parking lot. She’d called you immediately asking if she could do anything to help.

“No thanks” you were touched by her concern. “I just need to take some meds and sleep.”

“Well if you’re sure my little cupcake. If you feel better later we’re still planning on heading out to Ben’s,” she’d said naming the bar right around the corner from your apartment.

You’d had a text from Spencer too. ‘Hope you feel better soon Y/N. Sleep will help,’ he’d sent not long after you’d left the office.

He’d text you again at around 9pm, ‘I think Morgan is trying to get me drunk. He keeps buying me funny coloured fruity drinks. Did you know that the human body actually produces its own supply of alcohol naturally, 24 hours a day and 7 days a week.’

You’d received a picture message from Garcia about 30 minutes later showing a table filled with shot glasses, all with various brightly coloured liquids in them, and then another picture showing the glasses empty but with Reid and Morgan in the background pulling disgusted faces.

Reid had texted you again only ten minutes ago which must have been what woke you up. ‘Save me Y/N. I think Morgans trying to break my liver.’

You giggled. 'You still out?’ you messaged him back. You dragged yourself out of bed quickly going to the bathroom and freshening yourself up. After ten minutes Reid hadn’t replied so you sent the same message to Garcia.

'Oh Yes Yes my gorgeous little munchkin’ she’d replied almost instantly.

'Be there in ten’ you shot back as you quickly brushed your hair and re did your make up. You threw on a short denim skirt and a black vest top grabbing your purple converse and hoodie. Not exactly classy but you looked good enough for the local dive bar you frequented so often.

“Sweetcheeks you made it!” Penelope squealed excitedly from her perch as you made your way through the bar to the table where her and Derek were sitting. You placed the bottle of wine you’d just purchased on the table and gave her a quick hug.

“Yep I feel tons better after my nap,” you said quickly downing a glass and refilling it.

“You need to catch up with us lady bird,” Derek smirked at you, handing you a shot glass full of an amber coloured liquid. You took it, screwing your face up at its bitter taste.

“Where’s Rossi and Reid?” you asked scanning the room for them.

“Rossi left with a hot blonde about five minutes before you arrived,” Garcia replied happily.

“Yeah she looked like she was ready to eat him up,” Morgan added in. “And the pretty boy is currently being chatted up by a very attentive cougar over there,” he made a notion with his head and you followed.

You laughed as your saw your friend looking horribly uncomfortable as a women in her late forties was sat drawing circles on his arm with her nails whilst attempting to lean over seductively, giving him a good view down her dress. You could see him trying to avoid looking, but every so often his eyes would drift down.

'Men and boobs eh?’ you thought to yourself. You caught Spencer’s eye and waved. His eyes lit up as he saw you, mouthing 'Save me’ in your direction. You giggled shaking your head watching his brown eyes plead for you to come and help him.

“Poor Spencer,” you chuckled taking another long sip of your wine.

“Poor Spencer nothing, princess. That boy needs some female attention. It’s about time he got laid, ” Derek knocked his drink back.

“Yeah but really Derek…..a cougar, she’ll break him!” you giggled. “How long has she been there?“

“Well I pointed him out to her about 30 minutes ago when she grabbed my ass and asked if I was looking for a good time tonight, ” Derek laughed. “I figured the boy genius could have a good time instead. If he can’t find himself a hook up, I’ll do it for him.”

You shook your head at Derek feeling sorry for Reid. It wasn’t that the profiler was unattractive. Far from it. In fact, as far as your own tastes went, Reid was preferable to you than Derek. But he lacked confidence with women, not knowing what to say or when to stop rambling. You’d been surprised at how quickly you two had actually become friends outside of work to be honest, seeing how awkward and shy he could be around people.

You glanced at Reid again. He looked so miserable, but you knew he’d rather sit there than risk offending someone, even someone who was blatantly trying to get him into bed.

“Be right back,” you said to Garcia and Morgan as you hopped off your stool and walked over to the booth where the cougar had imprisoned Reid.

“Baby!” you exclaimed sliding in next to him hoping he’d catch on. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” you took his hand and squeezed it gently, leaning in and pecking him oh so lightly on the cheek.

He smiled gratefully, “I’m so sorry Y/N. I’ve just been listening to Shirley here telling me about her job as an air hostess.”

You smiled at 'Shirley’ sweetly. “Well thanks so much for keeping my boyfriend company for me.”

“Boyfriend?” she sniffed curtly. “His friend over there told me he’d be in need of a good time tonight,” she nodded over at Morgan who you could see was trying to hold back laughter. Spencer’s cheeks started to blush at the implication of what she meant.

You started to stroke his hand softly feeling him getting flustered. “Yes boyfriend, Shirley. Our friend over there must have meant someone else. The only person showing Spence a good time tonight will be me, right Spence?” you raised an eyebrow at him. He flushed red at your words.

“Pffft,” Shirley huffed. “He’s too scrawny for me anyway. Probably wouldn’t be able to handle a real women.”

'Bitch,’ you thought to yourself. Some people just didn’t know how to handle rejection well. You felt Spencer wince at the insult from her. 'And there goes his confidence levels plummeting to the ground again,’ you sighed internally.

“Let me tell you something Shirley,” you leaned over looking her dead in the eye. "This man right here may look scrawny, but he has no trouble pinning me up against my bedroom wall and fucking my brains out. He definitely, 100 percent knows how to handle a real women. Now I suggest you leave so I can discuss with Spencer exactly how he’s going to handle me when we get home.“ You smiled as her jaw dropped. Her face started to flush as she gathered up her bag and stalked away from the booth in the direction of the bathroom.

You knocked back your drink and turned to look at your friend. "Hi” you said nudging his shoulder with yours.

"Hi yourself” he replied licking his bottom lip. “Thanks for getting rid of her,” he smiled taking a sip of his own drink.

"No problem…. She pissed me off when she didn’t seem to believe that I was your girlfriend. So I had to put her in her place a little!“

“Well of course she didn’t believe it Y/N. Why would someone like you be with someone like me,” he said softly suddenly seeming very sober.

"What’s that meant to mean Spencer,” you asked sharply turning to look at him.

He gripped your hand realising how what he’d said might have sounded. “Oh no. N-no. T-that didn’t come out right,” he stuttered. He looked at you sadly and sighed. “You’re gorgeous Y/N. She couldn’t believe that someone as beautiful as you would be with someone like me. Like she said; I’m scrawny and definitely don’t look like I’d be any good at….. Well….that,” his eyes focused on his drink not wanting to look at you.

“Look at me Reid,” you put your hand out and touching his jaw, turning it towards you. “Spencer look at me.”

His sad brown eyes found yours. “Spencer, you may not be as built as guys like Morgan but trust me when I say that you could have any girl in here, if you’d only learn to be more confident.“

He huffed as if to say 'yeah right’ and started to look away again. You grabbed his face keeping it aimed on yours and moved closer to him. "I’m being serious Spencer. You’re gorgeous. You have a jaw line that most guys would kill for, eyes that someone could easily get lost in and hair that most women would love the opportunity to run their hand’s through. Add that to the fact that you’re a genius as well as kind and funny and well… What’s not to like?” He started to bite his lip the way he does at least ten times a day. "Oh and lip thing you’re doing right now Reid? Sexy as fuck….When ever you do that I can guarantee there’s at least one girl in the room watching you, wanting you to bite down on their lips instead…..Seriously, if you can teach yourself a whole new language in the space of a weekend then you can teach yourself to be confident. You could have anyone you wanted if you just had confidence in yourself.”

You sat back in your seat feeling sad that your friend didn’t realise what a good catch he was and feeling angry with Morgan for sending that bitch over to try to seduce him. You weren’t saying those things just to be nice either. You genuinely meant them. He was gorgeous and would make someone an amazing partner.

“What if I don’t want just anyone?” Spencer spoke quietly after taking a deep breath. “What if there is someone I like but I’m too scared that she doesn’t think of me like that?” he looked at you shyly.

You sighed racking your brains trying to think who this girl could be, feeling slightly jealous that there was someone he liked.

“Then tell her Reid, at least that way you know. If she doesn’t want you, then that’s her loss but at least you have an answer. Tell her.”

“I’m trying to Y/N. I’m trying to tell her right now,” he spoke so softly you almost didn’t hear him. He must have felt you tense as the meaning of his words finally clicked in your mind.

'Wait what?’ you thought. 'Me, he likes me?’ As much as you wanted to believe that’s what he’d just said, you couldn’t.

“Shit.” he muttered. “Guess that’s my answer. Can we just forget about this please?” he smiled at you weakly.

When you didn’t respond he made a move to leave the table. When you realised he was going to leave you blurted out, “NO.”

“No?” he asked quizzically.

“No, we can’t forget about it. Spencer…. You like me? Like properly more than a friend like me?” you wanted to be sure before you made a fool of yourself.

He blushed, “Well, erm, yes I do. A lot. A hell of a lot actually. I just never thought that anyone as awesome as you could like me. I don’t really have girlfriends, you know this.” He brushed a brown curl that was escaping back behind his ears as he bit his bottom lip again nervously.

You giggled, “Spence… I’m that girl.”

He looked confused.

“You’re biting your lip again… I’m that girl who wants you to be biting hers instead.” you laughed at the expression on his face. "I like you too. A lot,“ you whispered.

He smiled at you, his eyes lighting up. He looked so adorable right now.

"Listen,” you said. “Let’s go somewhere and get some coffee and talk okay.”

He nodded and you both stood up. You caught Penelope’s eye and mouthed 'We’re going’ across the room to her. She looked confused. You made a 'I’ll text you later motion’ with one hand and slipped your other hand back into Reid’s hearing him sigh happily at your contact.

Garcia clocked the hand hold and her eyes widened as a huge grin came over her face. You could almost hear the squeals that must be happening inside her head.

“Come on Dr Reid. We’ve gotta go find a wall for you to pin me up against. Wouldn’t want to have lied to Shirley now do we?”

He coughed and spluttered at what you’d just said.

“Haha. I’m joking Spence…. I don’t do that on a first date,” you turned to look up at him. "But someday, when you’re ready, we are soo doing that okay?“

He lowered his head so his lips were next your ears and whispered, "Okay, but maybe tonight, we could try some of that lip biting you mentioned instead.”

It was your turn to cough and splutter then as you pulled his hand and nearly dragged him out of the bar.

Shifted - Part 7, Chapter 6

In Shifted, the premise is simple - what if Claire had gotten pregnant with Brianna a month or two earlier in the story, and she and Jamie had re-evaluated  their priorities and decided that the cause was lost, and they were able to slip away from the army and quietly return to Lallybroch?

Previous installments…


Part 7 - The Visitor

Lallybroch, Autumn 1762


In the end, introducing Roger as someone from Claire’s past hadn’t surprised the family too deeply – except for Brianna and William, of course, who knew full well that their mother didn’t truly have a past.

Dinner had been pleasant enough. Claire watched Roger clearly enjoy himself, seated at the place of honor at Jamie’s right, Jenny on his other side, Young Jamie across from him. Roger pleasantly inquired about the size of the estate, its agricultural output, and the features of the nearby countryside. He’d explained himself to be a scholar of some sort, born to Scots parents but raised by an English uncle after being orphaned as a small child. This being his first journey back to Scotland since he could remember, he was trying to re-acquaint himself with the land of his forefathers.

It didn’t escape Jamie’s notice that Roger was also trying to acquaint himself with Brianna. She sat diagonally across from him, in between two of her female Murray cousins, and only directly addressed him a few times. The lad had spent a good deal of time stealing glances at her. And from what he saw, Brianna had stolen more than a few glances of her own.

So. Better to puzzle it out with Claire before taking any action.

Claire sat stiffly on his other side throughout dinner, barely touching her food. It must have been the hell of a shock – not just to meet another person from her own time, but someone she knew, who bore news of her first husband. The man with Randall’s face. From time to time, Claire still woke from dreams where she was living as his wife again – and only Jamie’s touch could bring her back.

His hand found hers under the table, pushing the C on his left thumb against the J on her right thumb. She squeezed his hand tightly, desperately.

I am here, his fingers told hers. We will figure this out.

 

And much later, after whiskey and toasts and Jenny finding Roger a place to sleep, Jamie and Claire slowly ascended the stairs to their bedroom. They paused to kiss their children goodnight before locking their door and gently stripping off each other’s clothes. Jamie took Claire’s hand and led her to their bed. He folded back the covers, slipped in beside her, and drew the blankets up over their heads.

Nestled in their dark cocoon, he drew her to his chest and she wrapped her legs around him, drawing her hips flush with his. She buried her face in his neck and breathed deeply. Gently he drew a hand up and down her back, murmuring quietly in the Gaidhlig.

They lay quietly for what could have been minutes or hours, savoring the feeling of skin on skin. Claire breathed Jamie in, and he rested his lips against her forehead.

Claire’s mind raced – full of so many disjointed thoughts and images.

Frank’s motorcar, the same car she’d driven to the stone circle. Whatever had happened to it? She’d left the top down when she parked at the stones. Had the beautiful leather seats been ruined by the time Frank found it?

Young Roger, adorable in a brown sweater and polished shoes. Where had she seen those eyes before?

The fragrant oolong tea leaves Mrs. Graham had read for her so long ago.

The rectangular leather suitcase she’d brought with her to Scotland, stuffed with her few worldly possessions. Dear God, she’d even packed her wedding portrait with Frank.

And then the feeling of falling through the stones. Seeing Randall. The scent of damp in Murtagh’s plaid as he held her in front of him on his horse.

And Jamie’s eyes, glowing in the firelight, the first time she’d touched him.

So the loop ran over and over in her mind. This time, that time. Frank, Jamie. Roger. Randall. Dougal. Murtagh.

And Jamie’s voice – her anchor, whispering into her hair in the Gaidhlig.

Hush, my heart. I am here. I am with you. Hush. Come back to me, my love. My blood. Mother of my son and daughters. How I love you.”

After a long while, Claire blinked hard and returned to herself. She raised her head and drew her nose along Jamie’s chin in the darkness. Her fingers twined in his hair and she brought his mouth down to hers.

A bit later she pulled back, breathless. He butted his nose against hers. “Are ye back, then?” he whispered.

She nodded, resting one palm flat on his back, thumb caressing his scars.

“What’s upsetting ye more – that Frank marrit again or that wee Roger sees the stones as playthings?”

She sighed. “I shouldn’t feel guilty about anything Frank did after I – after I left. I did love him, Jamie. I’m glad he found happiness.”

Jamie gathered her closer into his chest and hitched her leg around his hip. She gasped as he eased into her, and he smiled against her lips.

The Englishman never made her feel like this, he reflected. He never felt her belly when it was rounded wi’ child, or kissed its silver marks after she delivered a healthy bairn. He never lay wi’ her side by side like this in bed, joined as one flesh, sharing fears and hopes and dreams.

“You are my happiness,” he breathed, tilting his hips to penetrate even deeper.

He felt her smile and hum against his lips. “I never regret staying. I can’t leave you, Jamie. I can’t. My heart couldn’t take it.”

He pushed in and out, gently. “You are my heart,” he breathed into her ear. He felt her cheek flame against his.

“More, Jamie. I need more.”

Still he kept up a slow, shallow pace, one hand firm on her hip. His thumb settled in her navel, digging into the indentation, and he felt her belly quiver.

“You are all I want,” he whispered. “Each time is never enough.”

She swallowed, throat dry. “Jamie,” she gasped. “More. I need more.”

He smiled and bit her chin, stilling within her. “Ask me again.”

Her back arched, eyes closed. He felt her nipples press up against his own as she panted.

“No, you bloody Scot,” she laughed. He moaned at the sensation. She seized the back of his head and kissed him, hard.

He rolled on top of her and gripped her hips. She wrapped her legs around him. He brought his forehead against hers, and licked a bead of sweat from the tip of her nose.

“I said more, Jamie. Harder,” she panted.

He drove home once, hard. She cried out.

“More.”

He did so again. And again. And again. Driving all thoughts of her time and his time from her mind – until all that was left was her, and him, and their love for each other, shielded from the world.

Much later they lay in the dark, side by side, blankets pooled around their waists. Jamie held Claire’s right hand between his, resting on his stomach, fingers twining and untwining.

“Did ye see the way wee Roger was looking at Brianna tonight?”

She squeezed his hand. “Yes. He seemed quite taken with her.”

He raised her wedding ring to his lips for a kiss. “What do ye want me to do about it, then? He said he wasna going to stay for verra long.”

Claire settled her head on Jamie’s shoulder. “Maybe Brianna will give him a reason to stay.”

“Mmphmm.” Jamie turned to kiss her forehead, unconvinced.

“He’ll treat her right,” Claire said at length. “He comes from a time where men really do respect a woman’s wishes.”

“Aye,” Jamie said softly. “But it’s my daughter, ken? I dinna care how he feels toward all women – I only care how he feels and behaves toward my women.”

Claire sighed against him. “Let me speak with her in the morning, before breakfast. See what’s on her mind.”

“I suppose.” He yawned widely, gathering her against him and drawing the blanket up over their shoulders. Claire settled her head closer to him on the pillow. “Now then. Sleep, mo nighean donn. Let me protect yer dreams.”

Plain, White Shirt

Requested by: Anon :D
Prompt: #7 “Isn’t that mine?” (Hotch x Reader)


Originally posted by criminal-minds-fanatic


He didn’t notice it at first. It was subtle. Someone would have to really be looking to realise it.

He wore one of the many plain, white, button-down shirts he owned one Friday, not thinking too much about what he chose to wear in the morning. That day, after a mind-numbing afternoon of paperwork, he went to your apartment, after dropping Jack off with his aunt for a whole weekend, and spent it in its entirety with you.

It was the first time you had done something like that, spending so much time together ever since this romance had started a few months before. With the two of you being in the same office, along with a whole team of profilers, it meant discretion was of utmost importance.

However, you two excelled at the stoic-face act, although Aaron’s expression usually included his signature frown ninety percent of the time. You both managed to hide your feelings for each other. The only problem you had encountered thus far was not blurting out the other person’s first name, a natural change once your relationship progressed into something more.

The matter at hand here was that, in his haste to get home on Sunday due to Jack feeling slightly ill, he had forgotten that one particular shirt at your house. He didn’t think much of it. He didn’t even realise he had left it behind until he put his son to bed after giving him some medicine and checking his temperature. You would probably return it whenever you could, maybe during the weekend if the team didn’t get a case.

So, it was a bit of a surprise for him to see you with his shirt on Wednesday at the office. You had taken the precaution of putting on a baggy sweater on top of it, but he knew. He recognised it. He owned at least twenty of the same brand, in different colours.

He stiffened for a brief second before continuing back up the stairs to his office. You saw him and knew he had recognised it. You had debated with yourself whether it was a good idea to wear it to the office, which is why you waited a couple of days to do so. It was an indescribable feeling to be wearing something of his to work, even if it was just a shirt.

It reminded you of Friday’s activities, which had led to your burning the dinner you had been working on since you got home. Neither of you had cared in that moment, though. Now, every time you felt the fabric against your skin, you remembered how it felt under your hands when you grabbed onto Aaron’s shoulders to gain better leverage while on the couch.

It also made you giggle, thinking back to it; internally that is… someone would question your sudden laughter if you were to let it out. You had both felt like two teenagers who couldn’t control their hormones and had gotten down and dirty in the living room instead of moving to the bedroom.

So, yes. Your mind had kept on replaying that one moment, despite the fact that you had moved to the bedroom after having some Chinese takeout, and decided to put it on that morning out of impulse. Screw the professional and rational part of your brain. You wanted to show your boyfriend you were thinking of him, damn it. You just didn’t know how he was going to react.

You had an opportunity to find out about an hour later when you took the files you had been working on to his office. You knocked on the open door, and he asked you to close it, his tone normal. Once you sat down, you noticed that he had closed the blinds so no one in the bullpen could look into his office.

Interesting, you thought. What could he possibly be up to?

‘Thank you for the files, (Y/n),’ he said, to which you just rolled your eyes. Business first, as always. ‘I did, however, notice something peculiar about your choice of attire earlier…’

He trailed off with the ghost of a smile as he rounded his desk, perching himself on the edge of it, right in front of you. You smirked and decided to play dumb to humour him.

‘Oh, really? And here I thought I looked cute in this oversized sweater,’ you looked down and smoothed the non-existent wrinkles in said garment.

‘I wouldn’t necessarily call you cute in that,’ he commented, his voice low, as he grabbed you by the hand and brought you up to your feet, making you stand right in between his legs.

‘And why is that?’ you teased him by grabbing onto his shoulders and squeezing them, just like you had done on Friday. He put his head on your shoulder, and you heard him groan. You, once again, had to stop the giggle that was about to leave your mouth. ‘Aaron? You haven’t answered my question,’ you told him right next to his ear.

‘Isn’t that mine, (Y/n)?’ he mumbled, his lips moving down the length of your neck.

Well, I was not expecting this reaction, you thought as you allowed yourself to close your eyes momentarily and enjoyed the feeling of his mouth against your pulse point.

‘(Y/n)? You haven’t answered my question,’ he mimicked you, removing his head from the crook of your neck. You opened your eyes to find him smirking at you.

‘Was this the plan all along, you tease?’ you smiled despite the feeling of disappointment that settled on your stomach at not being able to continue what he had started.

‘Maybe,’ he looked at you from under his lashes and laughed lightly. ‘You should get down to the bullpen soon,’ he added regretfully.

Before he removed his hands from your waist, you grabbed him by the lapels on his suit jacket and kissed him. All tongues and not much finesse, but that was not what you were aiming for. That could wait until the weekend when you planned to tease him yourself.

‘Mmm,’ was all he said before you promptly smoothed the now-existing wrinkles in your sweater and exited his office, leaving the door open behind you.

That evening, while you were lounging lazily on your couch, still clad on your work clothes, with some home-made meal on your lap and an episode of the first comedy show you found on TV, you received a message from Aaron which read:

Jack is staying with his aunt tonight since he has to be at school early tomorrow for a trip and I can’t make it in time to take him myself.

Your heart jumped at the sudden change of plans but quickly messaged him back telling him to come over, already picking up the clothes you had left around the place from previous days and thinking of what you could wear that would look nice but not too over the top.

You had just put the clothes that had been thrown carelessly over different pieces of furniture a minute ago into your laundry basket, when the bell rang along with your cell phone. You picked up the phone first, hoping it wasn’t Garcia with a case and instead were surprised to find Aaron’s name on the screen.

You raised an eyebrow as you unblocked it and a flush came over your cheeks as you dropped the device on the coffee table, took off the sweater you had worn all day and almost tripped over your own feet trying to get to the door fast enough.

You were greeted by a smirking Aaron, who walked into your apartment and immediately started kissing you the same way you had done earlier in the afternoon. You didn’t even recall either of you closing your front door before he put his hands on your ass to hoist you up as you encircled his waist with your legs and he carried you into your bedroom, never breaking his kiss.

The message?

I want to see you in nothing but my shirt.

Yeap. Best decision ever.

Part 2: On

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