life under the microscope

Sledgehammer

Chapter Six

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader | Word Count: 2278
Warnings: Angst out the wazoo, swearing, Garry being a shit

Song: Can you hear me? by Fleurie


A few days later you were ready to scream, or cry, or shoot someone, you weren’t quite sure which.

Bucky still watched you, the frown a permanent addition to his face. It was disconcerting as hell being scrutinized like that, but he did as asked and kept his distance.

Clint had left in the middle of the night the same day you’d had your blow up with Sam and Bucky, Tony informing everyone of a family emergency. Nothing major, just Laura had caught one of the kid’s colds and was down for the count.

You couldn’t blame him for leaving, but even he’d been far more tight lipped than usual, showing his disapproval of your choice of mentorship with his silence. It would have been nice to clear the air and say goodbye, but it was too late now. It would have been nice to talk to him about some of the shit going down around you.

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Within and Without

Prompt : Requested by @melaerica, “Can you please do a Bill Skarsgård imagine, where the reader is a famous actress ad she attends the IT movie premiere and Bill has a huge crush on her and does everything to get her attention. Thank you Xx”

Pairing: Bill x Reader 

Words: 1167 

Every single aspect of your life was under a microscope. Your agent always said the difference between a good actress and a movie star was press coverage. The whole year was spent trying to persuade innocent people to watch the Oscar-nominated movie you stared in with Armie Hammer. You were just happy to have the night off for the first time in a few weeks.


Not to mention, you were pretty excited to see the movie. You remembered reading IT when you were 14 years old sobbing over the death of Eddie at two in the morning. You were so happy that even when your glam team brought a rack of tight and expensive golden dresses, it didn’t get you down. You rather of went to the premiere in an over-sized sweater and yoga pants, you were honestly that done.


You rolled down the windows in your limo to ease your car sickness. The idea of standing in front of cameras while photographers shouted orders at you always made you sick. You wondered what Daisy Buchanan would think of all this. She would probably think of all of it romantically.

You could hear the roar of screaming from a mile away and felt a familiar tightness in your gut. Rather than truth give me money and fame.

There were red balloons everywhere and the crowd was huge. You smiled gracefully at the cameras and demanding reporters, only doing basic red carpet poses. At big Hollywood premieres like this one, you usually sat with your friends and family but you came alone.

You saw that there was an empty spot by Derek Hough you shrugged and whispered excuse me’s to the people already sitting.

“ You look wonderful Y/N,” he whispered.

“ As do you,” you replied. You’ve only seen Dancing With the Stars once with your grandma. He was much prettier in person though.

After fifteen minutes the previews began to play. You began to feel lonely and restless. You should’ve come with Shailene or something she was a very tolerable person. You made small talk with Derek about the Trump presidency, but that made you nauseous.

You remembered the emergency cigarette pack you put in your clutch. How was that for Hermès glamour?

“ I’m going to get fresh air,” you whispered to Derek. He nodded and waved you goodbye, which was weird. You apologized to everyone you pass by. The movie was probably starting soon.

It was dark outside and the noise of Hollywood traffic felt familiar.

“ Sneaking away?” you jumped at the sound of the voice. You dropped your clutch on the pavement and scrambled to pick it up.

He was extremely tall and slender. He was blowing smoke from his cigarette out into the night air. He ruffled through his brown hair with his free hand.

“ What are you doing out here?” you inquired. He smiled and put the cigarette back into his mouth.

“ The movie starts in a half hour. They’re waiting for all the people to come in, the non-famous kind,” he exclaimed. You rolled your eyes.

You dug into your purse and pulled out your pack of Marlboro’s. The guy kept glancing at you, trying to be as smooth as possible.

“ Can I help you?” you asked impatiently.

“ I saw that movie you did with Armie Hammer, The Virtuous.” You nodded, that movie was not the best you’ve been in.

“ Wasn’t it horrible?” you asked.

He laughed, “ That movie you were in with Nicole Kidman was good.” Your eyebrows made a v shape. That movie was from ten years ago, you were literally 14.

“ I remember having the biggest crush on you when I was younger,” you started to blush. He threw his cigarette on the ground and put it out with his foot. His green eyes burned into yours making you turn away.

“ I don’t really know your name,” you confessed. You recognized his face from somewhere but you didn’t really read up on the cast before coming.

“ It’s Bill, I’m in the film,” he explained. He outstretched his hand and you took it.

“ Who are you in the-?” You racked your brain for the character list.

“ Pennywise the dancing clown,” he answered.

You nodded, “ Could’ve guessed that.”

“ My brothers are actors too,” he explained. “ And my father Stellan is as well.” You slapped your forehead, you’ve watched Good Will Hunting too many times not to recognize that name.

“ Oh, Skarsgård,” you whispered. He smiled and stared at the night sky.

“ Your brother Alexander can get it,”you said. You saw him in Big Little Lies and have been dreaming about him ever since.

Bill’s shoulders shook with laughter,
“ You’ve got the wrong brother Y/N”.

“ I hope the audience recognizes the essence of personal growth in children,” you sighed. He nodded in agreement. You both listened to the sounds of nightlife together.

“ The movie with Armie Hammer wasn’t bad,” he said.

“ Thanks.” Talking with Bill was probably the highlight of your whole year. He had a very calming relaxing aura around him.

“ I like acting, but I hate being famous,” you were shocked you even admitted that. He was a total stranger.

“ I understand you’re holding up well, with the exception of the mental breakdown you had after your breakup with Taron Egerton,” he explained. You rolled your eyes, he read the tabloids of course.

“ Would’ve had it with or without him,” you said blandly.

“ I’m sorry to say this, but you’re much more attractive in person and my obsession with you growing every day,” you began to blush.

“ You sound like a teenage boy,” you retorted.

“ I’ve seen every movie you’ve been in since I was a kid,” he said. “This is an honor really.” You wanted to kiss him, that was the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to you.

“ That makes me very happy Bill,” you sighed. There were tears in your eyes but you couldn’t figure out why you were crying.

“ Hey, after the film meet me here.
“Would you like to get coffee with me?” he continued.

You nodded,“ Sounds amazing.”

“ And I understand you Y/N, you get used to living your life within and without,” he explained.

“ You really made me feel happy today,” you confessed.

“ You deserve happiness and try to enjoy the film, okay?” You realized you were still holding on to the pack of cigarettes. You put them back in your clutch, you should quit anyway.

“ Can’t believe my celebrity crush was right in front of me wearing a golden Louis Vuitton dress!” he exclaimed.

“It’s Hermès,” you corrected. But he was already inside the theater when you said it.

Asexual Visibility in Adulthood

In adolescence, asexuality is often prescribed to individuals as a transient experience that will end once puberty is complete. Yet, paradoxically, adolescent “self-identification” of asexuality is invalidated as a permanent identity rendering actual asexual youths “invisible.” 

The expectation is that “asexual” adolescents will eventually develop heterosexual identities, and thus the agency youths have over their identity is undermined. They are frequently told they are “too young to know,” leading to continual self doubt into adulthood. 

This creates challenges for adolescents who grow into adulthood as asexual people. We spent much of our youth in self-doubt. We were never prepared to live as asexual adults. The expectation was that this “phase” of our life would end and we would embrace heterosexuality, which we’re all groomed for.

Unless circumstances have led you to be out or openly asexual, our identity begins to shift from a relatively “invisible” one in adolescence to a visible identity in adulthood not based on a choice to be “out” but based on the perceptions our peers have regarding our behavior. 

The amount of (invasive) questions I have received about my personal life as an asexual has increased exponentially from the onset of my adulthood, and none of this is because I am openly asexual. It is based on my behavior as an asexual adult, and how “puzzling” or “odd” it is to exist. 

I do not have to be “out” as an asexual person for my lack of relationships, my lack of marriage, my lack of children, my dedication to work over relationships, my lack of interest (see: attraction) to celebrities, my value of friendships over sex and romance, etc. to add up to confusion to non-asexual adults. 

This is not to say that my experiences as an asexual adult are universal, but that the possible features of asexual adulthood become visible even if we do not want to be. It then becomes very difficult to dodge questions about my personal life that could bring my identity under fire.

What is more concerning is that asexuality can be positioned as a problem that requires a solution. In my adulthood, I’ve experienced unsolicited advice on how to “put myself out there” all the way up to being threatened with sexual assault. My identity has also been positioned as a pathology and/or a moral failing.

It is not easy for me as an adult to combat these situations, and the invisibility in my youth did not assist me in accessing resources that would provide me with sound advice and safe places for me to go to in order to deal with the visibility I am experiencing as an adult – regardless if I’m actually “out.” 

The reality is that the circumstances of my life will always appear under a microscope because it deviates from the norm and it deviates from the norm because I am asexual. Non-asexual people do not need to know that in order to create challenges for me as an asexual person. 

So, what do we do with this? Where do we go from here? Visibility and access to resources are critical in youth, a time when we form an even greater sense of self sometimes in contradiction with societal norms. Our visibility may become difficult to control in adulthood, and we must be prepared for that challenge.

why do I have to feel like my gender. why can’t my experiences default to human. everything in my life is under a microscope, dissected under a the pretense I am a woman. fuck the misogyny that’s on this website fuck you

Bored

Summary:it’s 2012 and Phil is getting tired of the way Dan has been treating him lately.

based vaguely on the song Bored by Billie Eilish

words: 3654

read on ao3http://archiveofourown.org/works/11378910

read part two here


Phil never thought they would end up like this.

And yes, he knew how cliché it was on his part to think like that. To think that his relationship was somehow different from all the others. That he and Dan had somehow shared a dipper connection to all the other young couples who didn’t make it in the long run.

Still, he couldn’t help but think that way. Mostly because he never felt the way he felt towards Dan with anyone before. And to him, it meant something. Meant everything. He wanted so badly to hold onto this feeling, to Dan, to the idea of them together.

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Four Lessons Laced in Whiskey - Drake x MC (A Royal Romance Fanfic)

#ChoicesCreates Round 18

Prompt:
“We are made of all those who have built and broken us.” – Atticus

Pairing: Drake x MC
Rating: T
Hosted by me this week! 

[A little note: This was a little frustrating at first because we don’t know much about Drake’s family. Much of this may seem like a tangent but he was one of the first people I had in mind when choosing the quote. In any case, enjoy!]

[Summary: Drake has learned several lessons over the course of his life. Each more pressing than the last, each more important. She was his fourth lesson, and the hardest he ever had to learn.]


The liquid substance scorched on its way down, burning as it often did. Usually the whiskey settled him, made him feel a quiet resilience towards the rest of the world. It helped to put aside his far-reaching introspective tendencies and yet, the liquid heat had done little to that effect tonight. They do not still his thoughts, instead they lead back to brooding reflections.

If he could go back, he would change things. 

He would rearrange all the little bits. The bits he didn’t like, and even some of the bits he did. Often times, when Drake was left alone with his thoughts, and nothing but the rising sunset to path his journey across the stars - he would reflect. Reflect upon his life in layers, inspected it in finer details under the microscope of his mind. Then he would come to the conclusion that his desire to forget burned as brightly as his desire to remember.

His thoughts begun with his parents first. The two people whom raised him, until he could raise himself. The American spitfire that captured his father’s heart, and their whirlwind romance which had swept into something more. More than what either of them expected, after his father’s constant overseas journeys to meet her. The Cordonian man had taken an American wife, and the scandal left by his insistence overshadowed the rest of them. His father, which had never been satisfied with just enough would come to leave a stain and had unknowingly passed the same burden to his children.

All the birthdays which passed before him were the younger years of being satisfied with just enough. The innocent boy before life had twisted and turned him ugly. The prince’s birthdays had stirred something inside him, inside all of them. It uncovered hidden notions of jealously and envy; and begun filling his thoughts by the time he turned ten. They pooled at his little feet and threatened to overflow until it sunk them.

Guilt and sadness had nearly done that; sunk all of them. It clung to every room, and with every hesitant smile or faltered step; it was going to swallow them whole. It followed when his parents realized they couldn’t give the world to him, nor to his sister. Not after comparing their own livelihood needlessly to all the rich Cordonian families.

He learned his first lesson then. Acceptance. He knew no matter what, his life would never measure up to more, not if he constantly had expectations. So he lowered them, and met birthdays with indifference. He pretended they no longer mattered, forced a smile on his face every year until he could finally start believing in the lies that left his lips. A rest to put his parents minds at ease, knowing they could never give their children what his best friend had so readily and always received.

His second thoughts drifted towards his sister. The liquor didn’t burn as much when he took another hasty gulp from his flask. He tried to picture what she was doing right now - wherever she was and whoever she was with. He had always hoped for better when it came to her. Except in their last moments together; she wasn’t the smiling and laughing girl he remembered. Instead, the versions he evoked blurred with harsh exchanges and his own resentment. His standoffish behavior when it came to her; her becoming like them. The rest of Cordonian nobility. Except his sister held no title which could withstand the stinging shame that followed. 

When Savannah left, she took a piece of him with her that not even Liam could heal. He tried of course, Liam was a perfectionist to a fault and Drake had played along. But he had never felt truly healed. The piece she took would never be restored and remained some of the little bits he wanted to change.

He wanted to remember the better parts of their relationship instead; the years of chasing Liam across the impending maze, tickling her even when she laughed and pleaded for him to stop, and making fun of Maxwell before they had reached those dastardly teenage years. Those years had marked the beginning and if he had been better at protecting her; he would have saw it coming. He could have changed them. Changed her. Maybe they wouldn’t have ended as estranged as they were now. Maybe if he had been paying closer attention she would have been right next to him, sharing this stupid flask of whiskey.

His sister had taught him his second lesson. Responsibility was important in becoming a good person, in living a good life. He wished he had noticed this sooner, had cared less of what the others thought while in his youth. He longed to shake his younger surly self, shake his shoulders until he realized what he was letting fade right in front of him.  He wished he had been more responsible back then before the fall out happened, and before everything had turned to shit.

He sighed and took another large gulp from his flask. He leaned back intent on observing the stars, the only time he still felt connected to his sister. He was seeking comfort that wasn’t really there and yet hoped desperately that they held some unseeable truth for him. Some unseeable future to dictate another path. But why did remembering hurt so much? More importantly, why wasn’t the whiskey driving such thoughts away?

Liam had kept the urges for a time. Liam, who had always accepted responsibilities while Drake had shrunk away from them. He had been his center, the only sane part of his life that never stopped making sense. Even when all the other children he grew up with turned their snooty nose at him, and saw him differently, Liam hadn’t. He was afraid and stricken with doubt that he would too. He didn’t know what his friend saw in him; what made him stick up for his well-being when all the other children had sneered at him and saw him as the outsider. But he did. He never hesitated to.

Drake had vowed not soon after to be at his side, whenever he needed him. He knew Liam’s princely duties weighed on him and the older they became, the more he saw it. The more he noticed tiny cracks in what was supposed to be the polished Liam. The infallible version. They never spoke of it in great detail but Drake was always aware of the crushing reality; it was even beginning to crumble with Liam’s coronation nearly in sight.

Liam had taught Drake his third lesson, trust. Trust was earned not simply given, and even though his family had changed his opinion of trust, it was Liam that had destroyed that darkening fester from ever taking root. He taught him trust mattered and loyalty went hand in hand with it. He wanted to be redeemable in Liam’s eyes, cared more than he let on to what he thought of him more than the rest of them.

She was teaching him his fourth lesson. The American woman, Tinsley. The countless hours he was beginning to spend thinking about her was dangerous. It threatened to unravel his third lesson, it threatened the moments of in between which were beginning to mean more to him than anything else ever had.

His hands tightened around the flask as he took another large gulp, nearly choking from the angry way he chugged it down.

She was beautiful, in every sense of the word. Down to the slight frown she wore whenever he said something sarcastically, or the humor that danced inside her hazels otherwise and the wayward dance of hips which he was beginning to notice all too much. Most of it filled his head, and the more he knew about her, the less distance he wanted to put between them. He wanted to know why every time she smiled at him and threw her head back to chuckle, a distinct sense of longing filled his chest. A longing he cannot explain with words because he believed simple words wouldn’t provide proper justice she deserved.

He closed his eyes at the thought and finally laid back inside the comfort of the musky grass. He shouldn’t be thinking of her this way; lesson three would unravel the more he lingered on her, the more he cared.

“Drake?” A familiar voice had spoken softly behind him.

He straightened his shoulders as he sat aside, and eyes connected with hers before he noticed her visibly blushing. “Tinsley.” He said in greeting.

Tonight, wasn’t good for running into her.  It was supposed to be a night filled with whiskey. And bitter resentment at remembering; for him and his measly whiskey. “What’re you doing here?”

She tucked stray hairs behind her ear, before sitting beside him. “Trying to find you obviously.” Then her expression softened when her eyes swung back to his. “You left dinner in such a hurry…I just wanted to make sure you were okay…” She trailed off weakly.

He looked away first. He hadn’t wanted to but it was the proper thing to do. The longer he looked, the more he feared his desires would win out. So instead, he looked away before sighing and handing her his flask. “I’m fine really, nothing to worry your pretty little head about.”

The corner of her mouth lifted into a smile, “What kind of a weakness would I be if I didn’t check up on you?” She took the flask and muttered thanks before drinking.

He scowled. He knew her gentle teasing was to try and cheer him up, but he wanted to hold onto his snarkiness for a little longer. “You’re never going to let me forget I said that, aren’t you?”

“Not a chance.” She took another swig, “I know you aren’t okay and it’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it.” She eyed a particular spot across the gross before handing him back his flask. “Because maybe talking about it is really hard and maybe it hurts too much to.” She took a deep breath as if trying to figure out what to say next. “But I’m here.” She nodded firmly, “I’m here and I’m not planning on going anywhere, not even if you push me to.”

She was saying that because she knew it was his intention. He wanted to push her away, even though he longed to embrace her. He wanted to before it happened. Before they crossed the line that could never become uncrossed. But even as his mind wondered; it was already too late. That line had already been forgotten.

When he glanced up at her and caught her steady stare – he saw more affection in her eyes than he had ever seen in a long time. No, it wasn’t simple affection - it was something more. It was so much more. 

He realized in that moment, the lesson she had finally taught him had a name. Love. She was teaching him how to love again. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Post 2x18 scene

Just a little post episode scene I couldn’t get out of my head. 

~~~ 

Lena rounded her desk, her focus on the documents in her hands. “Hector,” she called, not finding the spreadsheet she was looking for.

Hector poked his head into the office. “Yes, Ms. Luthor?”

“I need the last quarter numbers for Spheerical Industries; I don’t seem to have it.” Stocks had fallen for Jack’s company in the wake of Beth’s crimes. CatCo’s article had luckily cleared his name, but Lena would be damned if she let all of Jack’s hard work come to nothing. In response, L-Corp would be absorbing what was left of Spheerical Industries.

“I’ll get right on it,” Hector assured her.

“Thank you.”

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The Jezebel Spirit
Brian Eno And David Byrne
The Jezebel Spirit

The Jezebel Spirit - Brian Eno & David Byrne

External image

Do you hear voices?

The sampled voice of an unidentified exorcist is at the heart of Brian Eno & David Byrne’s Jezebel Spirit from 1981’s landmark album My Life in the Bush of Ghosts. The music enveloping this voice, this casting out of a ’spirit of destruction’, is protean, organic, funky, a fusion of Byrne’s Talking Heads work at the time and Eno’s own experimentation with studio trickery, found objects and what we would now call world music. What makes it all the more remarkable is that it was recorded entirely with analogue technology, before digital sequencing or MIDI. The sampled voices were synchronized with the instrumental tracks using that most old-fashioned of methods - trial and error. While this was more frustrating and time-consuming, it was also more organic, more in line with Eno’s methods of lateral thinking, his oblique strategies, and often led to unexpected connections, happy accidents. When digital technology does things for you it also closes off avenues of possibility you might have discovered on your own. In this way, the digital age, for all its democratic ease, is a threat to imagination and creativity, the kind that makes breakthroughs and discovers new things. It eliminates or reduces chance and in the arts, as in the world of science, chance is a vital tool of discovery. Eno, the mad boffin of modern music, understood this. Of course, the finished music sounds anything but made with chance. It has a sleek, pulsating inevitability about it, a teeming cascade of rhythms and sounds that move like water, like excited particles under a microscope, like life itself.

inspired by “the man” by ed sheeran.

When Calum is sad, he pulls out his acoustic guitar. The slender burgundy neck of the instrument is easier to maneuver than his usual preferred choice of the bass as he’s prone to fumbling with the strings across the worn frets with bleary eyes and sweaty fingers that are commonly bleeding by the time he’s done with an emotional session. Sitting with his back flush to the wall, the brunette always rests the groove of the guitar his father gifted him a few months after the band had started to gain fame against his right knee while his chin hovers over the taut chords, notepad balancing precariously on the pane of his other knee with a black ink pen held between his teeth.

He looks beautiful, to put it simply. Calum’s mouth, whenever inspiration struck him, is always pinched in concentration and accompanied by a crease between his eyebrows. Half formed melodies and riffs fall from his lips while his fingers dance across the strings of the perfectly tuned instrument, his eyes only leaving the sanction of the guitar to snap to the crumpled stack of bound paper and scrawl a lyric or two before racing back.

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James took a breath, glancing at Sirius as they made their way to the house party. After three years at university, huge house parties like this still made him pretty uncomfortable. There were simply too many people, and even worse, they all stared at him. 

Really, he should have been used to it by now. He had been under a microscope his whole life. It was different here though. He was around people his own age here, and he wished he could be as normal as them for just one little night. 

Realizing that Sirius was smirking at him as he stared dumbly at the house, he shook his head and went up the steps. Of course, Sirius was making some teasingly snide comment about the prince of England not even able to handle a house party. He just threw his best friend a withering look before they walked through the front door. 

As soon as they got inside, Sirius, of course, made his way to the drinks. James, on the other hand, didn’t exactly want another call from his mother because he made it into the tabloids while drunk off his arse again. Instead, he just tried to make his way through the crowd to find Remus and Peter. 

Kol reading your diary

Based on THIS imagine.  This went in a completely different direction than I had first thought it was going to go, so it got a little long.  Enjoy lovies!

Edit:  Part two is now up HERE

The school day had been long, and the only thing you wanted to do when you got back to your house at the end of the day was curl up and watch some good old fashion trashy television.  Letting yourself into the house you toed off your shoes and let your backpack drop to the floor.  Turning the corner into the living room you quickly realized that your plans of a relaxing evening wasn’t meant to be when you spotted Kol sitting on your couch, deeply engrossed in a book.

“Note to self, change the locks on the doors.”  You teased him, shaking your head as you hopped over the back of an arm chair to sit.

“You and I both know that I’ll still find a way in.  Especially after finding such juicy reading.”  Kol replied, glancing up at you from the book and holding it up so you could see the leather cover more clearly.  You were confused at first of what book he could be reading that had interested him so much.  Staring at the cover, your eyes widened with realization as you stood quickly from the chair.

“Is that my diary!?”  You screeched at the vampire perched on your couch.  Before he could answer you had run towards him, trying to grab the journal from his hands.  Kol wasn’t about to give it back easily, however.  He was off the couch by the time you reached it, and was up leaning against a wall on the other side of the room.

“His eyes are so stunning, I could get lost in them all day.”  He read, a smirk pulling at his face as he flipped through a few pages.

“Stop.”

“Here’s a new one.”  He glanced up at you before back down to your writings.  “I had a dream last night about Kol.  It was amazing to say the least.  It left me breathless - “

“God, Kol STOP.”  You begged, lurching forward to grab at the diary one more time.  Again he avoided capture, taking his spot back on the couch as his eyes continued to scan the most recent entry to your diary.

“When I woke up I had reached out for him, thinking that he would be there, but only being greeted with cold sheets.  It was gut-wrenching.”  He read again.  At this point you knew that he had read the most intimate parts of your entries and there was no point in trying to get the writings back from him.  Your privacy had been corrupted.

“I hate you.”  You muttered, leaning back against the wall and hugging yourself as you glared at Kol.  It felt like your whole life had just been put under a microscope.  You were exposed, vulnerable, and you hated the feeling.  Embarrassed tears threatened to leak from your eyes as Kol finished reading the entry and slowly closed the diary.

“Not according to this, you don’t.”  He teased as he set the book down on the coffee table and turned to look at you.  Scanning your face quickly, he knew that he had crossed a line.  The harmless teasing that he had meant to inflict upon your day had taken a turn for the worst.

“That was before.  This is now.  Now I hate you.”  You replied, venom seeping into your words.  Taking another moment to pity yourself you straightened up, uncrossing your arms and letting them fall to your sides.  “Get out, Kol.”

“Y/N…”  He began, rising to his feet and frowning at you.  His mind was quickly reeling for a way to make this better.  To ease your pain.  He hadn’t expected to find anything of that magnitude in your diary, or else he would’ve chosen a different way to get under your skin.  At most he had expected to find a petty lie you had told someone, not the fact that you had feelings for him.  Feelings that he very much reciprocated.

“Leave!”  You shouted, glaring at the stunned man.  He gaped at you like a fish before bowing his head and turning towards the front door.  Time.  What you needed was time.

After the front door had closed behind him you snatched the diary off of the coffee counter and clutched it to your chest for a few minutes.  The tears that had been threatening to fall finally slid tracks down your cheeks before splashing silently onto the floor.  Angrily, you stomped to the fireplace across from the couch and used the lighter you left near it to set the logs aflaim.  When the fire was sufficiently built you kneeled in front of it, running a hand over the cover of the diary as you inwardly battled.  Eventually, you chucked the half filled book into the fireplace, watching the flames devour the pages of writing.  Sitting back against the hardwood floor you watched the pages melt apart, ink bubbling and dissipating until nothing remained of the journal.  

[part 1]

A chorus of crickets and the slight hum of the castle’s staff from the farthest corners of the building were the only sounds audible as you sat on your balcony; your feet propped up against the railing in what would most definitely be considered an un-ladylike manner and your body only covered with a thin tank top and tiny short. Sure, the outfit was indecent for a princess set to marry the prince of a prestigious neighboring country in twelve days, but the summer night left your skin dewy with sweat and you figured it was too dark for anyone to even see you anyways.

Though it had taken a while, you’d grown accustomed to the demands of royalty. Despite the fact that for the first year in the castle, there was always an underlying current of bitterness apparent in your actions, you felt content with your life now. Sure, suddenly being observed under a microscope broadcasted worldwide as a result of learning of your royal heritage when you were merely eighteen years old wasn’t ideal, but you figured things could’ve been worse.

Besides, you’d made quite the companion in Luke. Though your friendship had started off quite awkward and tense (knowing that one day you were going to marry him and be expected to produce a heir), the blonde and you had built a friendship you were sure anyone would be jealous of. Many nights, after completing your royal duties, you’d find yourself cackling with Luke over the phone about some stupid joke he’d found on the internet or listening to him practice a speech he was giving in outlandish accents that never failed to make you laugh. Every time he visited your kingdom or you joined him at his, you’d spend all your waking moments (when not required to be somewhere of importance) just soaking in the company of each other; whether it be lounging around in sweats you only so often were allowed to wear or racing each other on whichever palace’s horses you were staying at. The blonde was always striving to make you smile and most of the time, he never failed.

“Y/N!” A loud whisper jolted you, shaking you from your thoughts. Immediately, you sprung from your lounging position and settled into a fight stance you’d perfected over the past three years while learning how to defend yourself. “Chill!” the suddenly familiar voice calmed with a gentle chuckle from below, “It’s just me.”

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I’ve lived such a public life that I understand that I’m under a microscope. That has taken me into so many different phases. It’s made me depressed and it’s made me happy and it’s made me grateful and humble—but I’ve learned it’s okay to let down my walls with my music, to feel sexy and good.

anonymous asked:

I didn't think it was shady so much as dismissive? Like I know I wouldn't feel too good if an ex said that publicly. And her love life is under a microscope so people were most likely gonna know who she was talking about. It was such an odd line that the song could've done without. I mean if he was trash that's one thing...but didn't she or someone say he was a nice guy it just didn't work?

Yea, but here’s the thing she didn’t say “He’s in the club doing god knows what”. She said “he’s in the club doing I don’t know what”, right after saying he’s older than her. I mean, to be fair, the song itself is about her being in a bar, doing something or at least thinking something she probably shouldn’t be thinking, right? It’s not like “The Moment I Knew”, where she’s claiming victim/innocence and calling out her man for being shady. 

To me, it was more of a synopsis about how detached her relationship is, how they’re both out doing different things, instead of being together, both probably noticing other people, not connecting, etc. It wasn’t like, putting blame on the boyfriend, it was just a blanket statement that she’s in this relationship but isn’t with him, or around him, and he’s out in the club, and they’re not keeping tabs on one another, nor does she care to, and that’s probably a bad sign

The whole song kind of ignites that feeling when you’re falling out of love and you start noticing other people and caring less what your significant other is doing and feel glad for the space instead of missing them like you should be or used to be and a lightbulb kind of goes off in your head and you’re like “hmm, it shouldn’t be like this”. 

I’ve lived such a public life that I understand that I’m under a microscope. That has taken me into so many different phases. It’s made me depressed and it’s made me happy, and it’s made me grateful and humble. But I’ve learned it’s okay to let down my walls with music, to feel sexy and good.

The Right Thing

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski & Y/N
Reader Gender: Female
Requested: No
Warnings: Not really. The word whore is used a couple times and I paint Lydia as a botch in this
A/N: When I wrote this I pictured it in the 50′s but that’s just me. And I wrote this in like an hour so it’s not the best. I’d like to hear what y’all thought about it.

Originally posted by rockdinleyengorl


In a small town where everybody knows everybody there is nothing to do other than talk about other people’s lives; who’s going to marry who, who’s husband is screwing their secretary, who got arrested, who’s pregnant, even if you think you no one knows it’s most likely that everyone knows. 

It was like that when Y/N started dating the sheriff’s son. They were the talk of the town for months. Now three years later they were the talk of the town again only this time no one saw it coming. Everyone thought the Y/N and Stiles where going to get married, have a house full of kids, and live happily ever after; but one petty argument and some choice words had Stiles starring at the bottom of a bottle and falling into bed with the town princess, Lydia Martin.

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She said science is somehow romantic, but she just doesn’t know how yet. Well science is indeed romantic in many ways. The very definition of science is to get knowledge and understanding by observing and experimenting. There’s science all around us. Take two people falling in love for example. As they get closer, your brain is releasing a reward chemical as you touch them, and kiss them. It’s releasing a chemical bond, making you more attached to them. If you observe, your eyes will dilate, your heart will increase in beats, and your breathing becomes faster. That’s why many explain that sensation by telling their partner that they take their breath away, or that their hearts skips a beat for them. Romantic science is not only found in humans, but animals as well. Doves will only have one partner for the rest of its life, even wolves, bald eagles etc. You can even go under the microscope and see the beauty of science. You have trillions of cells in your body. And they’re all working together just to keep you alive. They never sleep, and they never stop, when you’re sick, it’s fighting the virus off just for you. It’s romantic in a sense that even when you’re sleeping, something inside you is taking care of you, and watching over you just to keep you alive. There are so many romantic instances in science. Sometimes you just need to look within.
—  Romantic Science (via young-wildandfresh)