luckily i had someone to share it with

Halloween Season / Spencer Reid x Reader

“Babygirl…it’s not even October yet,” Morgan commented as he stepped foot into your apartment. Penelope stood behind him with a bottle of red wine in her hands, a large grin on her face as she took in your decorations.

Pumpkins were set on every free space, skeletons hung on the walls and light up bats hung from the ceiling. Penelope let out a shriek followed by a delighted laugh as a small skeleton besides her began to move, the motion sensor setting it off into a wild dance.

“Halloween starts in September. Everyone knows that,” you replied with a smile as you took the bottle of wine from Penelope. The pair made themselves at home, taking a seat on your couch while Morgan picked up a pillow shaped as a jack-o-lantern.

“Babe, I don’t think I can get this untangled so maybe you should just buy another-,” Spencer stopped mid sentence as he reemerged from your hallway’s closet and into the living room, surprised to see that his friends had arrived early. “Hey guys.”

Morgan grinned at the fact he had actually heard the word “babe” come out of Spencer’s mouth. Realizing that Spencer Reid was just as invested in relationships as everyone else was amusing for some reason.

“Why am I not surprised that you had something to do with this?” Morgan laughed as he noticed the fake tangled spider web in Spencer’s hands. Reid was always excited for Halloween. For years he would organize Halloween movie marathons and trips to the pumpkin patch that they would all happily attend to if only to entertain Spencer’s love for the holiday.

“Actually, I was already set up before he got here,” you interrupted, “he’s just trying to fix that last decoration but it seems to be a lost cause.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up as you gave his cheek a loud kiss, your affection for him no secret to the world. The feeling of your slightly chapped lips against his skin was gladly received.

“I love your apartment,” Penelope complimented brightly. “It’s so festive!”

Spencer felt his heart jump at the smile that crossed your face at that moment. He watched as you interacted with two of his closest friends, your hair slightly disheveled and your shirt a little wrinkled with a faded Halloween print from the frequency you wore and washed it. Somehow he had managed to find someone who made his heart skip a beat, who made his stomach burst with butterflies and who invaded his thoughts every day. And luckily for him, you shared the same love for his favorite holiday.

“Are you guys ready to watch the movies? Y/N and I rented some old classics,” Spencer said as he held up a few DVD boxes.

“I’ll make popcorn!” you exclaimed excitedly. You had been thrilled when Spencer had suggested a movie night with his friends. You had met them once before and immediately taken a liking to them.

“I’ll come with!” Penelope shouted as she followed you into the kitchen, eager to bond more with the one who had managed to steal Reid’s heart.

Morgan chuckled as he watched the two disappear from sight. The apartment he found himself in was charming, and if it reflected your personality then it was no wonder Spencer couldn’t stop talking about you.

“She’s perfect for you,” Morgan commented as Spencer began to set up the tv.

“You think so?” he asked, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Are you kidding? This might as well be your apartment. I can’t imagine what your future house will look like during Halloween,” Morgan laughed.

“Oh, we’ll definitely be doing haunted houses,” Spencer replied without missing a beat. Morgan grinned at the certainty in his voice.

“Well let me know if you need an extra vampire. I’m down to scare some kids.”

“Vampire? I always pegged you for more of a werewolf,” Spencer said with a teasing grin. Morgan laughed and shook his head.

“Just put the movie on, pretty boy.”

Request

This is based on the prompt: the reader and Seb had been together for ages, and he was shooting a new film that had a sex scene the reader thought they actually had sex in the scene and didn’t know how it worked, she got upset and wouldn’t speak to Seb, and ignored his calls, so he flies back home to her, and reassures her and it’s really fluffy at the end by @melconnor2007

Sebastian Stan x reader

Fluffy

WC 779

It’s really fluffy and silly and I hope you enjoy reading it just as much as I enjoyed writing it! I’ve tagged some extra people but if this isn’t your cup of tea, please let me know!


You knew better than to listen or read celebrity gossip but every once in awhile, you couldn’t help but get caught up in it. You did ignore anything that related to Sebastian but you had overheard some women talking at the gym about his upcoming movie so you found yourself Googling the project and his role.

Sebastian’s latest project was a rom-com where he played the lead. It was a stretch from the Marvel movies and more serious roles that he took but he wanted to do something to make his fans happy and they really wanted to see him playing the romantic lead in a comedy.

The longer you stayed on Google, the more upset you became. You were happy that he was venturing out of his comfort zone but you hadn’t really considered that while filming a romantic comedy, there’d be romance scenes to film. Especially sex scenes. You felt nauseous when you saw the pictures of the bedroom set.

With tears in your eyes, you slammed down your laptop screen. You needed to talk to Sebastian about having sex on camera and you were starting to freak out.

Keep reading

Guidance Counselor: Curious Teacher Taken To  Slavery

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is a long one, dedicated to a follower. She knows who she is, and I thank her for being the muse/inspiration for this story. ENJOY!

 

The first indication Denise had that anything was wrong was also the first indication that it was already too late to do anything about it. She felt, rather than really heard, a soft whistling before she felt the sting in her ass.

She reached down instinctively and came back, incredibly, with something that looked like a dart.

Her mind was trying to process the incongruity of what was in her hand when the sedative in the dart began to take effect. Her muscles seem to turn to jelly and her balance completely vanished.

Fear and panic flushed through her and with it a rush of adrenaline, that tried to counter the effective drug, but it was overwhelmed by the effectiveness of the relaxant and she lost consciousness less than 10 seconds after the dart hit.

Once she had collapsed, I carefully watched, to make sure nobody was coming to rescue.

It was a late Friday night, she had to unexpectedly stay late in her classroom, doing extra work.

When I had seen her coming into work this morning I’d seen her carrying her usual bag with all her supplies. I arranged for the bag to go missing part way through the day, and then put it where she’d find it later on. The result was she was well behind with her day when she finally did find it and as a result had to stay late.

I’ve been watching her for several weeks, I knew her routine.

Payday Friday’s were her regular shopping night for what she needed. From groceries to cleaning supplies, this was the day she tended to all her regular shopping needs.

No matter how late she left work she would always stop at the store, and get what she needed.

That made it very easy to plan an acquisition. There was also the current advantage of being so late this time, and it being mid-December, meant that it was well into nightfall by the time she made it to her regular grocery.

The unusually cool air, even for a California winter, was also helping to keep most people indoors, meaning that where the parking lot was usually sparsely but still occupied and I’d planned accordingly for that, by the time we arrived the only cars in the parking lot were ones I recognized as employees.

After 30 seconds, and not seeing anybody making a mad dash to assist her, I started my van, and pulled over next her vehicle, and parked in such a way that it blocks the view of her and her car from the store completely.

I got out, picked her up, unceremoniously dumped in the back of the van, closed the door, grabbed her purse, and was gone.

From dart impact to acquisition two minutes.

Denise was not one of my usual acquisitions, but, I had noticed an unusual interest in me on her part, and the students I associated with.

Once I noticed that I also noticed that she was watching me, and watching me often.

I would look up from my office, and catch a glimpse of her air. Walking the halls, I sensed somebody following me. Not all the time, but, as I checked later, anytime she had a free period, she always seemed to be keeping an eye on me.

This was a problem that needed to be solved, especially when I caught her watching me off school grounds. I was usually one for caution, but this situation had to be resolved, hence, the kidnapping.

From the grocery store, I drove right to her house, checking her vitals upon arrival just to make sure I got the dosage right. Based on her breathing and heart rate, I hadn’t OD’d her, she would be unconscious for at least another two hours.

I used her keys, to go in the back door access her computer so I could clone it, and then did a quick search.

This wasn’t a James Bond movie, and she definitely wasn’t some secret agent. I did find evidence of some nice camera equipment, so I made a point of logging onto the computer and looking for photos, and what I found was disturbing.

Photos of me, taken with a telephoto lens, when I genuinely had no idea I was being watched.

Luckily for me, I always assume somebody has an eye on me, paranoia keeps a man like me free.

I don’t know what turn her on to me, but this was definitely a problem.

A more thorough search of the house, I found the camera equipment, multiple memory cards, handwritten notes, I took it all, including the clone, and left the house wiping down everything that I had touched, even though I was wearing gloves.

****

I watched her, as she slowly regained consciousness.

First, there was a hitch in her breathing, and she started to shift.

Unfortunately for her, the way she had been bound, the movement was nearly impossible.

She shifted a few more times, and then seemed to almost snaps awake, as she had been hit by a cattle prod.

Interestingly enough, in the future, she would be.

She started yanking and pulling against the bonds that held her, and screaming, at least trying to, past the gag inserted in her mouth. Between the helmet, I put over her head, leaving only a zipper over her mouth to feed her with, if I so desired, and small holes for her nose, and the gag I had stuffed in her mouth any noise that she tried to make was barely audible across the room.

I watched her scream, fight, struggle, and cry more than a few times over the course of 30 minutes.

Finally, she had exhausted herself and was panting heavily.

At that point, I moved quietly forward and touched her shoulder.

As expected, that set her off like a bomb. She started squirming and struggling and screaming yet again.

It didn’t last nearly as long and I waited until she stopped, before touching her shoulder a second time, this time, although she flinched, the frantic struggling had stopped, almost as soon as it began.

I knelt down, close to her ear and said, “you and I are going to have a very long talk. You’re going to tell me everything that you think you know, and then I’ll decide what to do with you.”

Again, she freaked and fought so I basically let her stew.

*****

The next day, with a little effort I forced her into a torture chair, with dozens of wooden spikes digging into her bare, helpless flesh, and clamps on her breasts, designed to hold her in place and increase her discomfort.

Once I had her in the chair, I finally remove the helmet, and she saw me.

Her eyes widened in recognition, and then I saw all the anger overtake her face.

I had no idea what was that she was saying, but based on the redness of her face, it wasn’t complimentary.

Excellent, she has spirit.

Finally, I was done with this nonsense and stepped forward and without warning slapped her viciously across the face once, twice, three times.

She tried to say something and I slapped her again. She tried again with the same result and quickly figured out she needed to stop talking. At that point, I saw the anger in her face, but also, the first inklings of fear.

It was as if at that moment was when she first realized just how bad her situation was.

I said, “You’ve been following me, you’ve been spying on me, I want to know why.”

She glared at me, and I raised my hand again and she said, “You know why. The girls.”

Okay, this was disconcerting.

From there I questioned her thoroughly, sometimes quite aggressively. How had she guessed I was involved, what put her on my trail, etc.

Turns out it was dumb luck, an overactive imagination, and a chance disappearance of an acquaintance in college.

A girl at her college had vanished and no one seemed to care. They just thought it was a flighty girl running away from college, but Denise had just known that wasn’t the case. She’d known the girl, somewhat. They’d talked about their future plans quite a bit since they were in several coursess together.

She just knew the girl had had dreams and aspirations of changing the world and was doing well in college.

So she just knew there was no way she’d just run off.

Sadly, no one shared Denise’s interest in finding the girl or finding out where she’d gone until six months later when her remains were found.

It had later been revealed by an autopsy that the girl had only been dead a couple of weeks.

If someone had taken more interest and tried to find her, maybe she’d have lived.

It left a bad taste in Denise’s mouth that had stayed with her.

When two girls from the high school vanished in as many years she took serious notice and tried to find out what had happened.

I was somehow a common denominator and she focused on me.

Luckily, she hadn’t shared any of her suspicions with anyone else, or I’d already be heading for the border with one of my new identities.

Apparently, she was afraid she wouldn’t be believed since I was such a popular counselor. An accusation like she was considering could get her fired.

So, instead, she decided to get evidence.

Oops, on her part.

I spent three days interrogating her. Sometimes forcefully, sometimes using a little, “Dick Cheney enhancement”.

After three days, I had every shred of information that she had acquired, even stuff kept in a little cubbyhole at her house. I got it all and then I destroyed it all, while she watched.

Now, the question was, what to do with her.

I could just eliminate her and had intended to do so, right up until I stripped her naked.

She had a fantastic body. 5’4”, maybe 140 pounds, but she kept herself in shape, and the 36C tits were absolutely perfect.

On top of that, she had this air of defiance, even when I was questioning her, hard. She had spirit and she seemed to believe she was going to win in the end.

The only reason I hadn’t already fucked her was that although it could have made her more willing to answer questions, It was also possible the shock and trauma could have caused her mind to shut down for a while and I couldn’t afford that.

So, while she was naked, during the entire time I was finding out why she’d been focused on me, I didn’t touch her in a sexual way, no matter how badly I wanted to.

That was about to change.

The next day, I came in, rather than taking her to the interrogation chair as she probably expected, I took her to another piece of my equipment. I called it the rape rack.

As I strapped her in she tried to resist, but having been bound in almost constant immobility the past week had left her muscles cramped and fatigued and left her weak as a kitten in comparison to me.

In short order, I had her bound, wood around her waist, legs strapped apart and arms bound up and behind her.

There was no part of her body I didn’t have access to, and she knew it.

I said nothing the entire time and once I was finished prepping her, I picked up one of my favorite canes, came back and laid a whistling stroke of agony across her ass.

She screamed in pain I barely gave her a chance to recover before I laid another and then another and then another setting rhythm, she was screaming constantly and between those screams trying to ask me why I was doing it, what I wanted.

Anything to get me to stop.

I ignored her completely.

After what, I’m sure for her, felt like an eternity, I did stop.

But then for her things got worse. I walked around and let her see as I loosened my belt and unzipped, allowing my manhood to be freed.

She started fighting like crazy and crying as I walked around and drove my now rock-hard cock right into her cunt. I grab her hips and began to fuck her, not even bothering to wonder what she felt about it.

She froze for several seconds at my initial thrust and then renewed her fighting. she was like a wild cat, screaming, begging me to stop, crying constantly now.

After I finished, I pulled out and walked around in front.

I looked at her face, and I saw there a new level of anger, but also humiliation.

“I’ve decided I’m not going to kill you,” I spoke for the first time. There was a look of surprise that mixed with the other emotions as I continued. “Instead, I’m going to do to you what I’ve done toall the girls you were so worried about. I’m going to fuck you whenever I want to, I’m going to break you, I’m going to break your mind, your spirit, your will, and your soul. Then I’m going to turn you into a sex slave.”

There was now complete shock on her face as I said the last part, “when I’m done, I will pack you up, just like I did them, take you to Mexico, and sell you.”

Her face was red with fear, and the anger and she said, “I’ll never be a slave. That will never happen.”

I simply smiled at her, and said, “oh yes it will.”

The next week, that is what her life was.

I fed her, to keep up her strength, and then I would bind her some way, into either the rape rack, or some other piece of my equipment that allowed me to easily access to either one, two, or all three of her holes.

I enjoyed demonstrating to her the hopelessness of her situation in any way that I could, at one point even taking to show her my outdoor training area. I pointed out the lack of anyone one for miles around and how no one would hear her scream. I told her, of course, she was welcome to try, and I’d give her a reason to, very soon.

She glared at me, and complained unintelligably through the ring gag as I quickly bound her over a pole, with her arms behind her legs, and then started feeding her my cock.

I smiled in satisfaction as I saw the anger and revulsion on her face at the fact that there wasn’t a thing she could do to stop me.

I could see that there was nothing she wanted more in life, at that moment, than to bite my cock off and spit it back at me.

Sadly, for her, the ring gag prevented it, and I stuck my cock deep in her mouth, I used a single tail to whip her ass, and up to her cunt, using her screams to vibrate my cock until I blew a thick load down her throat.

Afterwards I gave her a nice caning to point out my disappointment with her lack luster performance, telling her she’d need to get better if she didn’t want to have a permanantly welted ass.

Finally, I decided it was time to truly show her what I realityh really was for her.

Her arms were cuffed behind her back as I led her to a corner of my training area by the leash attached to the posture collar around her neck.

This was a special corner, one I’d used with all my slaves. The most interesting feature, was the set of sold steel shoes that were bolted into the floor, just in front of a thick pole that ran from floor to ceiling. I leaned her forward far enough so she could see them, even with the collar and then stood her back up so I could start preparing her for her ordeal.

First, I attached cuffs around her elbows and wrists and then, using another set of handcuffs to lock one wrist to the pole, I released first one wrist, and attach it to the opposite elbow and then did the same to the other.

Once completed, her wrists were held to the opposite elbow and her forearms were parallel to the ground.

Another strap, centered between her elbows, locked her forearms together and effectively made her even more helpless and endured her arms were completely useless.

That was a good thing, because she was desperately going to want to use them, very, very soon.

Once that was done, I forced her feet into the metal shoes and then attached her collar to the steel pole after stretching it upwards somewhat, ensuring her body was standing as tall as possible. Then, for good measure I added an extra strap around her forehead to hold her head in place.

Her legs were now bound wide, her knees were locked straight, and she could not move the rest of her body more than a couple inches due to the way the collar and her head were strapped to the pole.

Not that she was immobile, it was time for the real fun.

I showed her two long dildos, they were large and menacing as their metal forms shined in the light.

I didn’t say a word to her, held them up and then squatted down and shoved both of them up the slut’s lower holes.

She struggled and squirmed but she couldn’t stop it.

She screamed at me as well, and I just reached up and slapped her across the face.

After a week of this treatment, I hadn’t broken her of the screaming, at least not yet.

However, she had learned that once I slapped her across the face, it was time to keep her mouth shut, “or else”.

Once I had the dildos in place I strapped on a chastity belt that would keep them well in place.

After that was accomplished, I attached the battery packs and the wires for the plugs in her lower holes. She didn’t know what I was doing, because I did it while standing behind her and she couldn’t turn her head to see me, due to the posture collar. She couldn’t see me, but she knew something bad was going on, she just didn’t know what yet.

Finally, I finished and walked back to face her. I held up a small control remote, and I asked her a simple question, “what is your name?”

“Denise,” she says automatically.

At that answer, I push a button and sent electricity flowing into both of her lower holes. It was agonizing and she screamed in terror-filled pain. When she was done, she looked at me fearfully.

I didn’t change my expression, I simply continued to stare into her eyes and asked again, “what is your name?”

She considered the coldness in my eyes and her mouth opened but all that comes out is, “ohhh god!!!”

I again pressed the remote, sending another searing shock into her most sensitive flesh, and then, again asked, “What is your name?”

I haven’t given her an answer, as to what she should say, but I demand an answer, anyway.

If she failed to answer quickly, I’d give her another, searing, agonizing shock of painful electricity.

What could she do? What could she say?

“What is your name?”

“Umm.”

Another shock.

“What is your name?”

Silence this time, another shock, another scream of agony.

“Oh, god,” she half cried half prayed in fear.

“What is your name?”

Zap

“What is your name?”

“What do you want me to say?”

Zap

“what is your name?”

“I don’t know,“ she cried out suddenly, tears practically running from her eyes, like a faucet.

Eventually, that becomes her answer, repeatedly. “I don’t know. I have no idea,” occasionally, it was peppered with, “what do you want me to say?”

Just like that, I took her name from her.

I stopped and looked at her. She was crying, sweating, and panting. Her eyes were wild with terror and fear, and they were darting around the room, desperately looking for a way out, a way to escape, but not seeing one.

In teh coming weeks and months that would lead to a condition known as "Learned Helplessness”. It was something I cultivated in my slaves as I trained them, making their psycholigcal subjugation even more thorough.

For now, I could hear her whispering repeatedly, “oh god, oh god.”

Finally, I said, “I just took one of your most important identifying features, at least in your mind.”

She looked at, me, confused and I said, “I just took your name from you.”

She still looked confused for a moment, then it seemed to click in her mind and I could see the devastation.

I continued, “in your mind, you’re no longer ‘Denise, the teacher, the proud woman, the strong and stubborn person’,” I reached out and caressed her cheek and said, “now you’re just, ‘I don’t know’.”

“Oh, god,” she said again, more tears flowing from her eyes.

At this point, I took her down, fed and watered her, and put her to bed, letting it sink in deep.

We repeated this same exercise again the next day, and the next, and the one after that.

For a week, I repeated this exercise, increasing the time with each session.

It was fun, overcoming her physical efforts to escape and resist. Forcing her feet into the shoes, her arms into position, the dildos into her holes.

It was a struggle, of course, but her bondage, her smaller size, and weaker physical strength meant she’d always lose in the end, and always end up in the exact same position.

That was a lesson in itself, she couldn’t change what was happening, she could only endure.

On the second day, she tried to take back what had happened the day before and resist.

Not wanting to face the defeat again, and trying to refuse my taking her name from her, once again.

Often, she refused to answer entirely, and when she did, she emphatically said, “Denise.”

Unfortunately for her, the seed of defeat had already been planted. For her, now, it wasn’t a matter of if, she would give in, but only a question of, when.

On that second day, she held out for nearly 10 minutes, but finally, the result was the same.

Of course, by the third day she’d given up on that tactic and instead she tried to lessen the pain, saying the answer, “I don’t know” almost immediately. It didn’t change anything. I’d simply ask and shock her again, and again.

It was a stark demonstration of my total ruthlessness, and her complete helplessness to do anything to save or help herself.

She was quickly learning that whatever I did to her would go on until I decided to stop it, and there was not a damn thing she could do about it except cry, beg, suffer, and endure..

She was completely powerless to stop me and her mind completely incapable of supplying her with an answer to save herself, even though it was constantly spinning, trying to come up with some answer that would help her.

That was, unfortunately for her, wasted effort, because I hadn’t given her one.

Yet.

Finally, on the seventh day, after we had started, and she was already answering, “I don’t know. I don’t know”, I finally gave her an answer.

I put the remote in my pocket and then went over and rolled a full-length mirror in front of her.

For the first time, she could see what she looked like. I could tell the image was devastating to her and taking advantage of that I pointed to the image in the mirror and said, “this, is it. It is a slave. Its only purpose is to please.”

She looked at me. There was dawning realization in her eyes, at what I was doing. There was also fear, bordering on terror. Incredibly, I also saw there was a small spark of defiance.

“Say it,” I said coldly.

She shook her head. I shocked her again, and she screamed, “Say it” I repeated coldly.

“I can’t,” she said, closing her eyes and shaking her head again, the tears starting to flow.

Zap

“Oh, god,” she screamed.

“Say it,” I said again, keeping my voice calm but quietly demanding. Making it a conversational voice, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

“Please don’t,” she pleaded, barely understandable, at this point, due to the crying.

Zap

“Say it.”

“Oh, god.”

Zap

“Say it.”

“Stop please,” her voice was desperate now. I could sense we were getting close. I continued my relentless, almost machine-like pace.

Zap

“Say it.”

“Oh, god.”

Zap

“Say it.”

There was silence for a moment, she seemed to slump, I waited, counting slowly in my head. Just before I reached “5” her voice came, quiet, broken, defeated, “this, is it. Its only purpose is to please.”

Zap

She looked at me through her tear swollen eyes, the betrayal clear as I simply said, “Say it correctly.”

“Oh, god,” she pleaded desperately again.

Zap

“Say it correctly,” I repeated.

Again, she paused, again I began to count, ready to give her another shock.

She kept her eyes lowered, looking away from the mirror as much as she could, given the collar and strap on her head and said, “this, is it. It is a slave. It’s only purpose is to please.”

Zap

“Oh my God!!”

“again, louder,” I said coldly.

“this, is it. It is a slave. It’s only purpose is to please,” she said, still not loud or clear enough for my liking.

Zap

“Again, louder, clearer,” I demanded.

“I said it!! Oh my God,” she pleaded.

Zap

“An it is not an ‘I’,” I told her coldly, “It does not say, 'I’, or 'me’, or 'mine’. An it, is an object.”

Zap

“Now, say it again,” I emphasized the last word, still not raising my voice.

“This, is it. It is a slave. Its only purpose is to please,” her voice was louder and clearer, this time, but there was something missing, I noticed, something that had always been there before.

Zap

“Again.”

“This is it. It is a slave. Its only purpose is to please,” In all of this, there had been a hint of anger. A small sliver of defiance in her voice. Something that seemed to say, ‘I’m complying because of the pain, and not because you’ve beaten me.

Zap

“Again.”

 “This is it. It is a slave. Its only purpose is to please,” now, however, her voice was less lively, it was defeated, and just a little broken.

I liked hearing that change in tone. It meant I was winning, and more importantly, it meant she knew it, too.

Finally, I stopped telling her to repeat it and said, “Now thank me.”

She looked at me, confused and I repeated, holding up the remote, “thank me.”

“Thank you.”

Zap

“Thank you, what,” I asked like she was a stupid child.

“Thank you, sir,” her voice questioned.

I gave her another quick shock.

“A slave has a what,” asked.

“Umm, an owner?”

“A master,” I specified.

I looked at her again and said, “Thank me.”

She looked at me, still trying to fight it seemed and said, “I’m not a slave.”

The statement sounded hollow, I’m sure even she heard the lack of conviction in her voice.

I could tell she was trying to muster some of her spirit, but it was not going well.

I simply pointed at the mirror, and she instinctively looked at it as I held up the remote, “what is this?”

She looked for a long time, looking at me and the remote, and then back to the mirror.

Finally, she tried to look down but I stepped forward and grabbed her chin and forced her to look at the mirror. I held up the remote and said again, “what is this?”

She took a shuddering breath and in a clear, but emotionlessly defeated voice said, “This is it. It is a slave. Its only purpose is to please.”

I smiled and nodded in clear triumph, looking her dead in the eye in the mirror and said, “Now, thank me.”

She hesitated for a long moment. I didn’t break eye contact, didn’t move, and every time she tried to break eye contact I tightened my grip on her chin.

Finally, tears leaking from her eyes anew, she said, “Thank you, Master.”

I released her chin, satisfied.

Of course, it wasn’t over. She would try to muster her defenses, try to reclaim some of her will and spirit, again. I’d seen this before, with the others I had trained, it took continued repitition to make this change permenant.

This was simply the first few steps to her total defeat and breaking.

It would be fun, watching her succumb to all of it, watching her crumble. Pointing it out to her as it happened, watch her try to use that knowledge to resist, and become even more humiliated when it didn’t make a damn bit of difference.

Along the way there would be many milestones: her piercings, shaving her, introducing her to the whip, the crop, the paddle, making her into an animal, a pony, a puppy, perhaps even a cow, watching her squirm in agony as I spread the hot paste over her clit, cunt, and into her asshole.

So many things to look forward to on the road to her breaking and remaking.

Finally, there would be the milestone of her branding as a full and broken slave.

The greatest thing about these is that she would beg for every single one of them, and then thank me afterward.

I know she cannot conceive of any of that now, even in the state she is currently in.

I’ll enjoy the look on her face when I tell her about it all, tomorrow.

Her denial will be so amusing.

Forbidden//Part 2

Part 1 

Summery: Spencer falls down the slippery slope of being in love with someone he shouldn’t be. 


Originally posted by heroofretribution

It was difficult at first for Spencer to distance him self from you, it felt as if he had to constantly battle his mind, push him self to remember that you were off limits. An addiction was really the best way to describe it, he literally craved you, the way most people always crave what they can’t have.

Just like with every addiction relapses were a thing, Spencer can still remember the first small conversation you both shared. It caught him completely off guard when you walked up behind him as he stirred his sugar in his coffee.

You had asked him about a book he had been reading, it took him a couple of extra seconds to process such a simple question. Luckily before he’d have the chance to respond JJ walked I to refill her cup of coffee.

But after a while he had become used to it, learning to live in his new reality, the reality that had always existed; you were a married woman, vowed to love someone else till death do you apart.

The team was on their way home from a tough case, all cases involving kids always sent you over the edge. Spencer could see how tense you we’re on the flight, your eyes quickly filling with tears if you thought about it too much. Unfortunately this case didn’t have the happy ending, which made it that much harder. 

That night Spencer waited till you we’re just about to leave timing it perfectly to make it seem like a coincidence that your paths we’re about to cross. Just as the elevator doors we’re about to close he slid through them quickly, you we’re the only one there.

Suddenly all the rehearsed lines he had thought of gone, he wanted to say something like, “I hope you feel better.” Something generic, just to let you know that he knew just how you we’re feeling but instead you burst into tears the second he looked at you automatically Spencer wrapped his arms around you.

Once the elevator doors opened you pulled way, with out saying a word Spencer walked with you to your car. What felt like a tornado of emotions rushing through his head he wanted to make the most rational choice, but why was that always impossible when it came to you?

“Do you want to grab a drink, or eat, we can talk if you want? You don’t have to say yes, I just know how hard these last couple of days have been and …” Spencer stopped talking trying to gauge your reaction to his offer.

“A drink sounds good.”

The car ride was quiet you continued to look out the window completely absent-minded. While Spencer tried his best to grip the steering wheel of the car with both hands, trying to keep his thoughts from racing. The small bar wasn’t far from Spencer’s house, you had both gone before.

Spencer ordered you a drink while you used the bathroom, he couldn’t stop fidgeting. You stumbled into the chair on the opposite side from him, quickly drowning down the drink that had been waiting for you.

Both of you had lost track of time, staying in the same table till the waitress came around announcing they we’re closing in about 10 minutes. After paying the tab you held on tightly to Spencer’s hand as you walked out having drank more than usual.

 “Can I just crash on your couch?” You said already half asleep in the passenger seat.

Going up the flights of stairs proved to be a little more difficult than you had thought, breaking out in laughter when you missed a step or took one too many. Spencer continued to keep you steady hanging on to you tightly.

As soon as he opened the door to the apartment you took of your shoes and turned around to face him throwing your arms around his neck and holding on to him tightly, “I missed you so much, Spence.”

Perhaps it was the alcohol, but Spencer wasn’t thinking about that now, how could he when his hands we’re wrapped around your waist. Your arms hung around Spencer’s neck, your noses touching, hesitantly waiting to for one of you finally break.

And so he did, Spencer’s lips collapsed into yours. At first it was fast, messy, rushed as if time was against the both of you. Once your lips parted both of you gasping for air. This time when your lips met they we’re careful, slow, your tongues slowly clashing into each other.

In this moment Spencer knew there was no turning back from this, he was now longer thinking rationally. No, he had lost his mind all together, his heart was leading him on this and there was no stopping it. Slowly you both shredded off each other’s layers of clothes, till there was nothing else between the both of you.

The next morning Spencer woke up to an empty bed. There we’re so many thoughts rushing through his head. Was last night seriously real? He looked around the room for a sign, something you left behind something to he could hang on too. But you had left no trace.

Spencer was on a cloud nine and no where near reality as he walked into the office that morning. As soon as he saw you from a distance his heart began racing, practically racing out of his chest, his head was spinning and he couldn’t help but smile. 

Those feelings we’re quickly halted when he saw who was standing next to you, your husband. JJ, Penelope and Derek surrounded you both as you continued to laugh. As Spencer set his bag down on his desk he watched as you both walked away hand in hand.

JJ could see the look on Spencer’s face, “Hey, are you okay?” she said standing next to him. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

All through out the day he waited for you to look at him, acknowledge him, say anything. That’s how Spencer spent his whole entire day waiting for you to give him some kind of hope, but you didn’t.

The team was currently in the middle of another case, Hotch had ordered everyone to head to their hotel rooms and get some rest. As Spencer sat the end of his bed mindlessly flipping through some files he heard his door knock. Suddenly he was surprised when he saw you standing on the other side, your eyes puffy, red, your cheeks clearly wet from tears. “I know we haven’t talked in a while but I don’t know who else to go to Spence.” 

Spencer opened to door to his room and inviting you to come in, he wanted to say something but he didn’t know where to begin. You buried your face in Spencer’s neck waiting for him to respond but he never did, “I can’t do this” Spencer said putting both his hands on your shoulders. “What?” You said confused.

“Y/N, I can’t do this. I’m not just someone you can run to when things aren’t working the way you want them too. You can’t just use me, then pretend like nothing happened.” Spencer felt every single one of the words as they spilled from his mouth. “You know how I feel about you, you know what you’re doing.”

Spencer waited for a response, but you we’re frozen, there was nothing for you to say. “Spencer, I never meant to hurt you. I know how things played out doesn’t seem very fair but please let me explain…” 

“It’s a little too late for that, Y/N. I think it’s best you leave” he said opening the door to the room, and closing it after you had left.

Spencer quickly sat behind the door and buried his face in his hands, this was never how he wanted things to end.

Keep reading

Confident

Title: Confident

Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean, Y/F/N (Your friend’s name)

Word Count: 1692

Warnings: Reader momentarily self-conscious, talk of body image

A/N: This was a request for @reality-isfor-muggles (Could I request a sam x chubby!reader fic please? Thank you!) I really hope you like it! If it’s not what you were looking for let me know!

Also, thank you to @because-sam-winchester for checking this over !! love you!

Feedback is appreciated!!

If you would like to be tagged or would like to request something please send me an ask :)

Keep reading

Random Jeller Fluff

Jane and Kurt were cleaning up after dinner.  Smiling at each other like idiots for no other reason other than they were together.  Each time they passed each other, touching unnecessarily, just because they could.  Jane had never been so happy.  But she could tell Kurt wanted to say something throughout dinner, but for whatever reason held back.  

Finally she grabbed the hem of his shirt and kissed him, causing him to stop what he was doing.

“Now that I have your attention, are you going to tell me what’s on your mind or do I have to get it out of you?” she teased.

“Well, if this is how your going to get it out of me, by all means………..”

He laughed, finding the bird tattoo on her neck and kissing it. He knew what that did to her and he hoped  it would take the focus from what he was about to say.

“Allie called today”, he said nonchalantly.  

Silence.  Jane tensed.  She hadn’t heard that name in awhile.  And she wouldn’t have called for any other reason than the baby.  THEIR baby.

“Is everything ok?”, she asked.

“Yeah.  Apparently the dr thinks she is close to delivery and thinks it would be a good idea for me to go out there so I don’t miss the birth.”

“Oh”, she said moving away from him and back to the dishes.  “Probably is a good idea”, Jane lied.  She obviously knew this was coming, but now that it was here, she didn’t know exactly how she should react.  She was happy for him, really she was.  This was just part of his life, but so was Jane and they would make it work.  But even though she had come to terms with him having a baby with another woman, it still stung.  Kurt and Allie would share a connection.  Not that she worried he had any feelings left for her, but it was still something that would forever bond them.  How did becoming his girlfriend fit into this?  

“When do you leave?” she asked.

“Tomorrow morning. I already spoke to Hirst so someone could cover for me.  Luckily there is nothing I can’t walk away from at the moment.” he laughed.

Was she nothing?

He saw her eyes widen at that comment but that certainly wasn’t what he meant.

“Jane, I meant work.  You know that.”

She began to feel ridiculous.  

“Of course I do”, she sighed.  “I’ll be fine.  This is big.  You’re going to be a dad. And a great dad at that, just like I’ve always told you.” She hugged him trying to hide her worries in his chest.

“Yes, this is big.”  He agreed.  He pulled away from her then and looked straight into her eyes.  

“That’s why I can’t imagine going without the most important person in my life by my side.”

Her eyes filled with tears.  “What….me….I don’t think….”

“I already got you a ticket Jane.  All you have to do is pack”,  he smiled.

“You got me a ticket?  You really want me to go with you? But I’m sure Allie doesn’t want…..”

“I already talked to her about it”, he interrupted.  “She said something like, it was about time I got my act together….”

She laughed.  “Well, I agree with her there.  But, I don’t know Kurt…” she shook her head at him.

“I love you Jane. I want you there.  I NEED you there. “

He pulled her closer until their foreheads touched.  

“I’m going to be a dad.  That’s scares the hell out of me! I need you there to tell me everything’s going to be ok.  You’re the only person in the world that makes me believe it will be.” he whispered.

He picked up her hand and placed it on his heart.  

“So, what do you say?  Come with me to meet my daughter?”

She looked at him with eyes full of love.  More love that she thought was possible.  

“Do you have a suitcase I can borrow?”  She smiled.

Kurt kissed her in reply.  As nervous as he was, he knew with Jane by his side, he could do anything.

So I sent this pic to one of my friends, I gave her no context and she has no idea who Dan and Phil are or who Dan was looking at in this pic and this was her first reaction lol. ^^
I got the idea from someone here on tumblr and I had to try it out myself, I sent her a bunch of pics after this one and it was really fun to hear what she saw and thought about it from an outsider perspective, hah.

3

this is kind of a prologue to the one shot i am working on at the moment. the whole thing will be coming your way some time next week but until then…enjoy this! xx

instead of a one shot you’re now getting a whole fic out of this, enjoy! xx


Paulie was not a relationship kind of girl.

Yes, she liked boys and she liked their company but only in two scenarios: as friends or as hook-ups.

She had tried that whole relationship thing and it fucked her up and ten times over so she decided that it was simply not for her. For the time being she was only interested in simple, no-strings-attached encounters and so far it had gone pretty well for her.

So when one night she met this guy at the pub and she went home with him it was not supposed to be anything more than a hook-up either.

Keep reading

Don’t Start What You Can’t Finish

Requested by @12-kay-kit-kat

So I hope this makes sense! Basically Bucky and reader get stuck out somewhere and have to stay over night in a hotel. There’s only one bed but they decide to share but just stay on opposite sides. It’s hella cold so reader and Bucky start to cuddle. But reader keeps shifting her hips trying to get comfty and Bucky holds her hips trying to get her to stop and reader realized why so she keeps doing it and Bucky rolls on top of her and says something like “don’t start what u can’t finish”

Bucky x Reader. FLUFF/ A LIL SMUTTY. Word count: 3.2 k (I liked this request a lot and got a little carried away)

TW: bed sharing, references to sex


Things with you and Bucky had always been difficult. You managed to be civil enough in the company of the team, but whenever the two of you were left alone together things always went sour. The two of you were polar opposites—he was a battle-hardened soldier, while you spent most of your time in the lab. He was quiet and stoic, while you were social and outgoing. He traveled the world going on missions, while you rarely left the tower. You had almost nothing in common outside of your love for Steve. Before Bucky came back, you and Steve were like brother and sister, but ever since Bucky had re-entered Steve’s life, you couldn’t help but feel like you’d been pushed aside. Deep down, you knew that it wasn’t Bucky’s fault, but somehow you couldn’t help but blame him.

Most of the time, you would just tolerate each other when everyone was together, and then avoided each other the rest of the time. That is, until Steve called you both to the briefing room that day and told you that you’d be going on a mission together.

“Mission? I don’t go on missions. I’m a lab rat. I stay home. I don’t want to go,” you told Steve. He gave you a stern look and crossed his arms. You knew from experience that he was going to go into one of his “dad” speeches, where he’d use phrases like “You can do it,” and “I believe in you,” and you weren’t in the mood to deal with any of that nonsense. Before you could tell Steve where exactly he could shove his stupid mission, Bucky chimed in.

“Steve this is ridiculous. I can do this one on my own—I don’t need her help. Hell, she doesn’t even want to go!” he said with a hint of aggression in his voice. He was right—you didn’t want to go, but you also didn’t want him to think that you would be useless on a mission. If you were going to stay home, it was going be because it was your idea, not Bucky’s. You took a small step forward and cleared your throat to grab Steve’s attention.

“What exactly is this mission anyway? Why would you possibly need me? I mean sure, there are lots of things I can do that Bucky can’t, but—“ You couldn’t finish your sentence because Bucky interrupted you with a grunt.

“Like what?!” he asked.

“Hmm, I don’t know, pass through a metal detector, for one,” you hissed back.

Before the little spat could evolve into a full-blown argument, Steve interjected. “Calm down, both of you. Y/N—I need you on this one because Nat just got some intel on an old Hydra facility in Germany. Apparently they have some old computer tech stuff that we need information off of, but Nat can’t crack it, and it’s too old for any of Tony’s gizmos to work on. You’re the best at what you do—you’re the only one who can get this done. Bucky—I need you on this one because there’s almost certainly going to be armed guards, and I need someone who’s got stealth, muscle, and experience navigating through Hydra bases. You’re there to make sure she can do her job safely. I would go, but I have another mission to go on with Sam that takes priority. I don’t have time to sit here and listen to you two duke it out about this—you’re both going, end of story. Now read the file and get moving.”

You were shocked to hear Steve be so blunt, and judging by the look on Bucky’s face, so was he. Sure, Steve had a tendency to be a little assertive sometimes, but it was rarely this intense. You reached down to pick up a copy of the file off of the table, but Bucky did the same and your hands touched. You both pulled back quickly, but he gestured for you to go ahead and take it. He was still reading his copy when you finished, so you peeked over the top of the file folder and studied his face for a quick moment. He may be annoying as hell, but damn was he attractive! You looked back down before he could notice you staring at him. The two of you stood up at the same time, then went to your rooms to suit up before meeting up at the Quinjet, ready to fly to Germany.

For the majority of the flight, you dozed off listening to your iPod while Bucky piloted the plane. When you landed, it was about a 30-minute walk to the Hydra facility, which was an old military bunker. Steve was right about there being guards, but Bucky knocked all four out before any of them could lay a hand on you. The rest of the mission was pretty simple—you found the old computers, did a little rewiring and hacking, and uploaded all of the files onto a flash drive before wiping the systems. You gave the flash drive to Bucky for safe-keeping since you had a tendency to lose things. As he tucked it in his coat pocket, you said “Well, I guess we’re ready to head back. Let’s go!” You did your best to sound excited and friendly, but came off a little more irritated and eager to leave. “Yeah, but we’ve gotta gas up the plane somewhere first. We’ll make a pit stop at a small airport on the way back—the big ones draw too much attention,” Bucky explained.

After about an hour of flying, the snow was starting to fall heavy and the gas tank was getting closer and closer to empty. Bucky landed at an airport in the middle of nowhere and fueled up the plane while you waited patiently inside. He walked back into the plane covered in snow. “Grab your overnight bag,” he began with irritation in his voice, “We can’t take off in this weather. Since we can’t leave the jet running with the heat on all night while we sleep, we’re just gonna have to stay in a hotel. The attendant said that the only one is just up the road, so we’ll walk.” Without question, you grabbed your overnight bag, zipped up your coat, and followed him off of the plane.

The walk to the hotel was short, but silent. Despite having spent all day together, you realized that you and Bucky had barely exchanged more than a few words. The hotel was tiny—only five rooms. Since you were the more personable one, you thought it would be best to speak to the desk clerk, who luckily spoke English. “One room, two beds please,” you said with a smile. The short blonde woman on the other side of the desk shrugged her shoulders and replied “Sorry, miss, the only room we have open only has one bed. I guess you’ll either have to share or someone will sleep in the tub—we are out of cots. The furnace is acting up too, so the room might be cold, but I can get you some extra blankets if you’d like.” You turned back to look at Bucky and you noticed that his expression had gone from stern to something bordering on bashful. You couldn’t help but wink at him, since you knew it would make him even more uncomfortable, and then you turned back around and told the desk lady that would be fine. She handed you the room key and two blankets, and then you and Bucky went into the room.

“I really want to take a hot shower. Do you mind if I steal the bathroom first? I promise I’ll be quick,” you asked him, knowing that he’d say yes. He was a pain in your ass, but the 1940s gentleman side of him was kind of nice. You took a shower and changed into your pajamas. When you walked out of the bathroom, Bucky looked up at you and snickered.

“Yeah Bucky, I know they’re ridiculous. I originally bought them to make Steve uncomfortable, but they’re actually super comfy,” You looked down at your pajama bottoms and snickered along—they were booty shorts with a picture of Cap’s shield on the crotch. “The back is even funnier though!” You turned around so Bucky could see the words “Captain Rogers’ Girl” on your ass. Bucky suddenly burst out in laughter, and you couldn’t help but join in. Bucky stood up and started walking toward the bathroom. Right before he closed the door, he poked his head out and said “You know, I think Sam probably has those same PJ’s, but they look really cute on you.” He winked and closed the door.

While Bucky showered, you took the liberty of spreading the extra blankets out on the bed and then crawling inside. You were really regretting packing your shorts and a tank top to sleep in because you were already freezing your ass off. Bucky came out of the bathroom wearing a pair of black sweatpants and no shirt. Your eyes were instantly drawn to his chiseled torso, and your gaze didn’t break until Bucky started speaking.

“Forgot to pack another shirt, but the other one is all wet from the snow,” he stated.

You smiled and joked “I’d let you borrow one of mine, but I think it might be on the snug side.” He smiled back, amused by your little quip.

“So, am I crashing on the floor or is it okay with you if we share the bed? I promise I’ll stay on my side and keep my hands to myself if we do,” said Bucky, kindly.

“Go ahead and get in—that way we don’t have to divide the blankets. Ditto on the hands to myself thing,” you replied.

Bucky got into the bed, but the two of you managed to position yourself as far apart from each other as you possibly could without falling off. Before he reached over to turn off the bedside lamp, you asked Bucky, “Why don’t you like me?” Your question caught both of you off-guard. You didn’t really know why you said that out loud, and he was surprised that you would ask such a random thing out of the blue.

“Why don’t I what?” he asked in return.

“Bucky, I asked you why you don’t like me. It’s okay that you don’t like me, I was just wondering why.”

Bucky took a deep breath and said “Look Y/N, it’s not that I don’t like you, it’s just that I’m pretty sure you hate me, so I figured it’d be easier to just keep my distance and kinda play along than to try to win your friendship. In case you haven’t noticed, my social skills are still a little lacking. Now, I answered your question so you have to answer mine—why do you hate me? I don’t think it’s a fear thing—I can tell when people avoid me because they think I’m gonna kill them, but I don’t get that vibe from you, so what is it?”

You felt a pit in your stomach. You didn’t know that you came off that hostile toward Bucky. You didn’t hate him (in fact, you were starting to realize that maybe you were developing a little crush on the guy), you just hated what you felt he took from you. “I don’t hate you, Bucky,” you began sheepishly, “I think it’s just that, well…okay, so before you came back, Steve and I were besties, and now he hardly ever spends time with me. Me and Steve have never been like, romantic or anything like that, and I don’t want us to be, but he’s been like my big brother ever since I joined the team and it’s kind of like he’s kicked me to the curb so he can hang out with you. I understand that it’s not your fault, and that you were friends with him first, but it still stings. I know that it’s stupid, but I feel like you kinda stole my best friend from me. I’ve never meant to be rude to you or anything though, so I’m sorry if I was.”

You stared down at the bed in embarrassment, until you felt Bucky’s hand under your chin. He brought your face up so you were looking at him, and he said “I had no idea I was taking that much of his time, and I’m sorry. How about this: I back off from Steve a little bit. Honestly, the guy is driving me nuts anyway—I’m pretty sure the only reason he wants to spend so much time with me is because he thinks I need a babysitter. And the three of us can make some time to hang out as a group. Steve will be really confused as to why we suddenly get along, so that will be fun to see for sure. So, how about it? Friends?”

You could feel yourself blush as you smiled and said, “Friends. I’m tuckered out though so let’s try to get some sleep. Goodnight, Bucky,” He reached over and turned off the lamp, and you both tried your best to fall asleep on opposite sides of the bed. After an hour of not being able to doze off, the shivering had kicked in and you knew that unless you found a way to warm up, you wouldn’t be getting any sleep. You were cold to the bone and the bed was really uncomfortable.

“Bucky, are you asleep?” you whispered quietly in his direction.

“No. I’ve been trying but I can’t. It probably doesn’t help that it’s so cold in here. Seriously, I think it’s cold and I’ve been cryogenically frozen, so I can only imagine how you feel right about now.”

“It’s fucking freezing in here. Scoot towards the middle of the bed—you’re gonna be the big spoon.”

“Oh, so we’re snuggling now? I like where this friendship is going.”

You both moved in toward the middle of the bed and nestled into each other. The warmth of Bucky’s bare chest against your back instantly warmed you up. He draped his arm around your waist, and the sound of his breathing was like a lullaby. You were finally warm, but still couldn’t fall asleep because the mattress was too hard. You weren’t sure if Bucky was awake or not, so you tried to keep your movements small as you attempted to reposition yourself, trying not to disturb him. Most of the discomfort was in your lower back, so you kept shifting your hips to try to find a comfortable position.

“Y/N?” said Bucky as he put his hand on your hip, holding you in place.

“Oh did I wake you? I’m sorry, this bed is as hard as a rock.”

“Uh, you didn’t wake me up, but how about you don’t start what you can’t finish, okay?”

It took you a moment to register what was going on, and then your eyes widened in shock when you realized the mattress wasn’t the only thing that was hard. You couldn’t help but feel that the timing just seemed right though. Fresh off of a successful mission, alone in a cute motel room in the countryside, snow falling,—it was kind of romantic, really. You rolled over so you were face to face with Bucky, and you placed a hand on his muscular chest.

“Whoever said I can’t finish it?” you said teasingly, and then leaned in to give Bucky a quick kiss on the lips.

He reached around and placed his hand on the back of your neck, and then pulled you in for a longer, more passionate kiss.

“Damn, Y/N—this is one hell of a way to start a friendship!”

The next afternoon…

“We’re back!” you announced as you and Bucky walked into the lounge. Nat, Steve, Sam, and Tony were all sitting on the couches watching a movie. Bucky pulled the flash drive out of his pocket.

“Here’s your data. It was a pretty simple mission, really,” said Bucky as he tossed the flash drive to Steve.

“It was actually really easy to do. Pretty sure Nat could’ve handled it on her own, but it was still kinda fun. Anyway, glad to be home!” you said with a smile, happy to see your friends again. Nat and Steve exchanged a devious look before both standing up in front of Sam and Tony.

“Pay up. Cap and I totally won this one,” said Nat with an attitude.

“You don’t know that! You didn’t even ask!” replied Sam.

“Like they’d really tell the truth? C’mon, it’s pretty obvious. You lost,” said Steve.

“I’m on the losing end of this bet, but even I’ve gotta agree—it’s pretty obvious. Here ya go,” said Tony as he handed over some money to Nat and Steve.

You and Bucky stood in the middle of the room, perplexed by what was happening. Just as you opened your mouth to ask what was going on, Clint popped his head out of the kitchen.

“In case you were wondering, the four of them took bets about whether you two would bang while you were away. Since Nat and Steve look so damn happy, I’m guessing you did. Good for you!” he said before walking back toward his room with a bowl of cereal.

“YOU TOOK BETS ON WHAT?!” you and Bucky yelled simultaneously. Everyone else started cracking up and you realized that you were busted. You had no idea why it was so obvious, but at this point you knew there was no turning back.

“Ok fine. We did. Whatever. I think it’s only fair that Bucky and I get a cut of the winnings though,” you said with some irritation in your voice.

“Seems fair enough,” replied Steve. He and Nat gave you each a $20 bill.

“The whole mission was a setup to try to get us together then I take it?” asked Bucky.

Everyone just smiled and nodded, so you grabbed Bucky’s hand and dragged him to the kitchen.

“Can you believe they did that?!” you whispered to Bucky.

“Actually, I kinda can. Everyone on this team has a pretty twisted sense of humor. Anyway, I’ve been thinking…”

“About what?” you asked in anticipation. You were really hoping that Bucky would be interested in pursuing some sort of relationship. You had really grown fond of the guy, and didn’t want him to just be a one-night stand.

“Do you maybe, uh, want to grab some dinner tonight? Like a date?” asked Bucky as he fidgeted nervously with the strap of his overnight bag.

“I’d like that a lot. 7:00?”

“7:00 is perfect. I’ll meet you at your room.”

Just as the two of you were walking out of the kitchen and heading towards your rooms, you could hear Nat yell “Ha! He asked her out, so you owe me another $20, Stark!”

You and Bucky laughed the rest of the way to your rooms.


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To make a request, check out request rules

squirreltastic  asked:

Hey I'm late to the party but primus on a bike do people not think star was abused????? Like tmi or w/e there were parts of his abuse that had me remembering some of my own abuse, hell we even shared some body language (luckily over the years I've gotten better, I dont flinch as much, I don't try to make myself smaller ectra) and !!! yeah that was some bad stuff leave the diva bird alonnneee

there are legitimately people who think that what he is shown to be going through during the show is not abuse.

or, worse, that he deserved it.

“just as evil as megatron” my ENTIRE AFT he has HONOR AND DECENCY! he only ever “backstabs” someone who fucks him over first!!! like BINCH DID U NOT NOTICE THAT??

ugh i wasn’t gonna write them an essay on Why They’re Stupid For Thinking That™ even though i wanted (and still want) to…

because it’s already been done. there’s an entire tag of posts dedicated to this.

i sincerely want to slap everyone who tries to argue with me on this issue. it’s just so asinine at this point. it’s been argued to death and the outcome is always the same.

Let Starscream Be Happy 2k5ever.

[mic drop]

oh and i definitely feel u - i was a victim of severe emotional abuse in the past, and i see a lot of Starscream in myself. there’s…so many common things that it actually hurts to think about it sometimes. though what i went through wasn’t physical, it’s still…really similar.

if a person is saying that Starscream deserved it, they’re saying we deserved it. that i deserved to be screamed at every day over things i can’t control, things that are hard-wired into my brain.

i didn’t deserve it. you didn’t deserve it.

and neither did he.

Fluffmas Day 5 & 6-Dancing & Decorating The Tree (Hamilsquad x Reader)

A/N: Yeah, I know I missed Day 5, I was studying for an algebra test and couldn’t have time to write one. However I’m a perfectionist so I combined the Day 5 & 6 fics. Hopefully this makes up for it. I’d love to see comments about the fic! Enjoy~

“You’re going to fall.”

“I’m not going to fall.”

“You’re totally going to fall.”

“No. I’m not going to fall.”

“What is going on here?” asked the voice of Hercules Mulligan, one of your boyfriends, as he sat down the rest of the Christmas decoration boxes.

‘He and Laf must have gotten the rest of the stuff down.’ You thought.

Anyway to answer Hercules’s question, you and John pointed to Alexander. He was going to put the tinsel on the Christmas tree, but got too impatient to wait for a you to get a ladder. So now he was carefully balancing on a swivel chair trying to put the tinsel on.

Herc stared at Alexander. “He’s going to fall.”

“FOR THE LAST TIME I’M NO—” Alexander yelled, shifting off balance and falling right into Hercules’s strong arms wrapped in gold tinsel.

You and John doubled over in laughter, while Alexander pouted.

“Oh my gosh, you look hilarious! I have to get a pic of this for the girls!” you said, pulling out your phone.

“Don’t you da—” hissed Alex.

“Too late!….And sent!”

You showed John the picture, making him laugh harder. “You look like an angry little elf!”

“Well sorry for being short! And Herc would you put me down already!” Alex shrieked, red in the face with embarrassment and anger.

All of you loved to tease Alexander, his reactions were always so funny.

Herc didn’t move. “Why? I kinda like having you in my arms. Makes it so we don’t have to keep an eye on you all the time. Besides don’t pretend you don’t like it~” He whispered the last part in Alex’s his ear, making the man his arms glow red like Rudolph’s nose.

“Why is Herc carrying Alex like une jeune mariée?” asked Lafayette, carrying the box with the stockings.

“Because someone couldn’t wait for a ladder and ended up falling. Luckily Herc was there to catch him.” You said, as you looked at Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy’s replies to the picture.

“That someone has a name! It’s Alexander Hamilton and I only fell because you three distracted me!” defended Alex, as he squirmed out of Herc’s embrace and pointed at you.

Then he sat on the couch, folded his arms, and gave all of you his ‘I’m not talking to you’ look. You don’t think he realized he still had tinsel in his hair.

You, Laf, Herc, and John shared a look. Your teasing had gone too far again (or Alex was being his over sensitive self again). Luckily you knew how get Alex out his mood. You pulled out your phone and quickly opened THAT app.

Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree for me
Been an awful good girl
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Soon the sweet tones of Eartha Kitt filled the living room. You smiled when Alex began to sway to the melody. You and him shared a look before the Alex stood up and took the your hand, pulling you from and twirling your body as the song’s first verse started.

Santa baby, an auto space convertible too, light blue
I’ll wait up for you, dear
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

The three others watched, admiring how Alex and you danced gracefully around the boxes and furniture. Alex noticing the others left out, sent you into a spin, which sent you into Herc’s arms. The gentle giant quickly dipped you knowing what lyrics came next.

Think of all the fun I’ve missed
Think of all the fellas that I haven’t kissed

He gave a chaste, but sweet kiss. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Alex trying to lead Lafayette, who was clumsily dancing and trying not to step on his short partner’s feet. You were soon pulled into a dance with John.

Next year I could be also good
If you’ll check off my Christmas list
Santa honey, I want a yacht and really that’s not a lot
Been an angel all year
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

John was definitely less restrained the Herc. He wasted no time in swinging you around to the rhythm. He picked you up off your feet, his forearm tucking under your behind as he lifted you up, with your weight being supported against his chest as he spun you around.

Santa cutie, there’s one thing I really do need, the deed
To a platinum mine
Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight

The five of you danced through a number of songs, with you being shuffled back and forth between your boyfriends through each melody until the night had arrived.

anonymous asked:

I want more canon or headcanon. Please ~~ I have not read c or hc since week 🙈. yuuram is my life💖💖

Hahaha, really? I kind of remember writing a ton of headcanon like 3 days ago XDDD but okay!

Canon is canon, and I may retrieve some information for you if you have a particular question. But the canon is vast, so please refer to my yuuram in the novels  1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |

And headcanons are simply ideas people have, basing themselves on the information available in the canon. (since we have several canons it might fit one, but not the other, however… for me the novels are the real deal- which is a shame cuz the manga has some goodies - )

But let’s talk about canon kinks and character psychology this time:
So, Yuuri used to insist way back when about marrying a “bride”. Interestingly enough in MA Duel, when Yuuri complains about Wolf not being a ‘bride’, Wolfram says, “oh don’t worry , I won’t be your bride, you’ll be mine. And you’ll wear a gorgeous black wedding gown” XDDD lol

However, in the special ending for Hajimari no Tabi, Wolfram mentions the possibility of wearing a bridal gown for Yuuri, only to say he was joking later -buttttttt…. he put it out there and it sounded like “something he would do if Yuuri really wanted to”. This ending was written a long time ago, before all the yuuram development in Seisakoku, so we have to take that into consideration. It’s unlikely that Yuuri would, at this point, force Wolfram into female clothes.

Although I’m sure he wouldn’t be upset if Wolfram did slip into female clothes. (He doesn’t seem to dislike Wolf’s nightwear at all) Yuuri also shows his proclivities towards ‘dressing up Wolf’ in Misepan 2, when he seems very interested in seeing Wolf in bunny ears and skirt… but you have to understand, this is a staple kink of Japanese people, straight or gay, dressing up is always a thing.

Putting that aside, I believe it’s fair to say that at the beginning of their relationship they were both trying to effeminate the other in some personal crazy delusion (they were headcanoning on their own) (Even if in reality, Yuuri gushes often about Wolfram’s manly beauty, and even gets jealous of Wolf when, while Yuuri was blind, he mistakes Gunter’s hair-made charm for Wolf’s chest hair. )

And although it would be rather easy to simplify this by saying “They both like women”, lemme present this idea:

We found out that Wolfram has always wanted facial hair - a manly beard - as he so stated in Never Ending Poison Lady. He also daydreams and writes about acting very ‘manly’, doing stuff like cutting up animals for eating and such. 

In that same story, we find out what Wolfram writes in his journals: Manly stories about a soldier living up in the wilderness. No love stories about him and Yuuri. No love poems. He writes about himself in an idealized way. And that’s all he has ever written about. (or at least that’s what he said)

Whilst Yuuri, wants to grow taller and get big muscles, (as a Japanese man, it seems facial hair is not of his interest XD ), all of this to become a pro-baseball player (which we know from the canon he’ll never be because he’s just awful)

So pampered Wolf with soft features wants to be a bloody butch soldier who cuts up animals, with a big manly beard, and bench-warmer, skinny, short Yuuri wants to be a tall, muscular, pro-baseball player. 

So what they have is a ‘kink’ as to what they want to look like themselves. There is this wish to be something that they clearly aren’t and are possibly never going to be.

However, faced with the reality that those are only dreams, that they are indeed, not as manly as they wish they were, they try to make their partner more effeminate  to somehow make up for what they believe is a lack of manliness in themselves.

Yuuri is always brooding about his fear of Wolfram ‘leaving him behind’ and by this he means this in terms of maturity. Yuuri understands he’s still a teen, and that he can’t do a lot of things… and he has stated himself he was very happy to have someone ‘his age’. He also shares his rookie parenting with Wolf… so if Wolfram gets ahead of him, he’ll lose him. I think this is one of Yuuri’s greatest fears. 

Luckily for the shippers of this couple, Yuuri has had some accelerated personal growth. This kid who was bad at school and only ever thought about baseball, gets thrown into the king position, spends long hours in the office, has a daughter, has been put to the test in countless occasions and has somehow managed to come victorious out of them. This came along with some inner scars, and yeah, I’ll go back to the bed scene and his “I don’t have the strength to pretend anymore”

And here’s the thing, we really don’t know how long he’s been pretending. 

In the first chapter of the first novel, right at the beginning, he talks about a guy in the baseball team he “looked up to” in middle school. The problem is that this “looked up to”, akogare, in Japanese, is used to talk about people you’re crushing on. He went on to say that now he was “looking up to” someone in the Kendo team, and he was about to join that team. 

This passing mentioning of guys he “looked up to”, find a full circle in doujinshi 4′s “Change”. Where he pretty much goes out on a Christmas Date (Christmas is dating day in Japan), with someone who played with him in middle school. Can we imagine it’s the same guy from novel 1? 

FURTHERMORE, here’s what Murata said in novel 6, chapter 4
“I was just thinking of that younger girl with the short haircut you went out with right before you graduated. Her face and body were small and she looked like an elementary student.“

 "That was a guy! From the baseball team! That was a sports buzz cut! And I wasn’t going out with him!”

So Muramura, the maou stalker, saw him in what seemed to be ‘dating scenarios’ with YET another guy.

And furthermore, in novel 9, where he talks about ‘getting a girlfriend’ he also talks about pretty much curving each and every single girl who had ever shown interest in him.

When you put all of this together, along with Yuuri pretty much owning up to the fact he’s gay at the beginning of that story “Change”, and that other story “WC or NPB” where there’s a scene of Yuuri jerking off in the bathtub to ‘baseball /baseball players’; we can infer that Yuuri is closeted. Hyper, super, hiding behind the shirts closeted, in the very back of the closet trying to cling on to his appearance of straight boy, using baseball as an excuse for his interest in men, and his disinterest in women.

You may be thinking, wait, wait… this antagonizes with him always gushing over every single female he has met, Cheri, Nicola, Flynn, Gisela, everyone with boobs. He’s always made such a big deal about them. 

Well, after collecting info from pretty much anyone who’s opened up to me, I gotta say…. we’re all a bit bisexual…. especially in our teen years when we’re trying to figure out what the hell we’re all about. 

Regardless, Yuuri has unequivocally curved the girls and approached the guys…. and as they say actions speak louder than words… which holds especially true with Japanese people who don’t express themselves verbally.

TL:DR:
Yuuri is heckin gay
Yuuri and Wolf have kinks about dressing the other up in girl clothes. This may be in an effort to picture themselves as more manly, and in Yuuri’s case, to try to mitigate his own perception of how gay he is. 
Yuuri also has the typical Japanese kink of seeing your partner dress up (het or gay)

In my opinion, further down the road:
They’re both gonna dress up for the other because they love each other and wanna make each other happy. (some neat scenes with people catching them before or after can create some wonderful gags)

Wedding? Sorry kids, but dressing up is for  “daddies-time” only. It’s gonna be all suits for the wedding^^

Things To Know about High School

So I recently graduated and I am moving to college in a matter of days and decided that it was a good time to pass on some of my pearly wisdom. This cannot apply to every school because I went to private catholic school and it was vv cliquey and stereotypical. Anyhow, lets begin.

#1 Do what makes you feel happy. This is the most important and everything will stem from this. I have done mostly everything I can and believe me I have been on both ends of the spectrum. If you love going to football games and your friends don’t >go to the game<, you will find rad folk there. If you want to be a member of the Dungeons and Dragons club but you don’t want to seem nerdy? doittt!!!!! It may seem too nerdy but believe me it’s so much damn fun, also I was a member of the d&d club and I still went to parties on the weekend so it doesn’t mean you’re a loser.

#2 If you don’t want to party you don’t have to. I spent the first three years of high school having never been to a party, it’s chill if they make you nervous, you don’t need to go to be ‘popular’ it won’t matter after you graduate anyway. (aLSO as someone people called a ‘party girl’ her senior year, the vomit makes it all not worth it it’s all fun and games until your best friend yaks in your lap >twice<)

#3 People will talk shit, it’s best if you keep in mind that they are doing it to make themselves feel better. I have been on the wrong end of a lot of rumors, I have been called both a slut and a prude all before I even had my first kiss and I have had hook-ups that have spread rumors through the entire school to try and make themselves feel better. The best thing you can do is keep your chin up. It will go away in a few days.

#4 If Advanced/College Prep Classes stress you out or are “too hard” don’t take them! You really don’t need them to get into college, I am attending one of the best STEM universities in the country and I never stepped foot inside an AP/IB classroom.

#5 Don’t let adults trick you into thinking you need to know exactly what you want to be when you grow up. When applying for colleges take into account all your interests, and look at schools that have a variety of majors, you might change your mind halfway through college and will Harvard is excellent for Law it might not be the best place for Photography >if you catch my drift<.

#6 Friends will come and they will go. It doesn’t mean that there is something ‘wrong’ with you. It just means that you weren’t a great match with that other person. Keep yourself open to new people, don’t close yourself off to one group because you think you have to.

#7 Okay this is my grandest piece of advice. I struggled with Anxiety and social issues the first two years of high school, and then my Junior year I decided to make a change. My goal >be nice to everyone< it didn’t mean I had to make friends with everyone, but it allowed me to open myself up more slowly, and I eventually found some of the greatest friends ever, and they weren’t the people I met my first day of freshman year either.

#8 This might sound weird, but if you choose to drink in high school please please please be careful about it. Learn your limits in a safe environment surrounded by people you trust before you start getting shit-faced at a strangers house. The latter is extremely dangerous and honestly I have seen bad things happen to good people because they didn’t know their limits. Start slow, try a beer one night. See how it affects you. Try a single shot the next time you’re out. Don’t down seven in one go because I can guarantee that won’t feel great. 

#9 It’s okay to not have a best friend, I promise. I never had a best friend until my senior year, and it was okay, just keep yourself open to getting close with someone, it might sound difficult but it will be worth it.

#10 Finally. Make your senior year count. Do all the things you wished you had done, it sucks leaving high school with regrets. Luckily I can personally say that I don’t regret much, but I still have a few things I messed up.

Okay so there are my 10 tips for High school. Now, these can’t apply to everyone even though I wish they could, and honestly I just felt like i needed to share a little wisdom, none of this needs to be followed. I hope you read it all, if you did you’re rad.

2

Gif source:  Here

Imagine your father, Robert Baratheon, giving you his blessing to marry Sandor when you tell him that you love Sandor like he loved Lyanna.

——— Request for anon ———

You had come to your father straightaway after manifesting the plans with the man you intended to marry. Sandor was skeptical, but you’d promised you’d make the king see just why he should bless your happiness together. All this time of secrets had become too much, too overbearing, and you wanted nothing more than to just be with Sandor, but Robert Baratheon had never been easily swayed. Luckily, you shared in his stubbornness.

“The Hound?” your father roars as you finish your confession of the love affair that had manifested under Robert’s nose. “I should have his head for this!”

“Father, no!” you plead, going to his side as you grip the arm he rests on his chair, “Please, let me marry him? I’ve never loved someone so much, and never will again!” Robert’s frown is deep, but you persist, “Don’t you remember the feeling? I love Sandor as you loved Lyanna.”

For years, I had lived in what many in the law-enforcement community called a “target rich” environment. I was much less generous about it, and would complain bitterly to my court-ordered therapist about the aspirational neighbourhood I had been forced to live in due to the restraining orders forcing me to stay at least 500 meters away from every luxury-car dealership in the city.

It wasn’t just me who was trapped here, however. One of my neighbours had a very harsh life, and I had a private window into his innermost misery and fear. You see, he had a Mazda 929, Mazda’s ill-fated rear-wheel-drive luxury experiment, and no money to maintain it. And so, one morning during a poorly-planned U-turn, he failed to navigate the non-wheelchair-compliant curb outside his place and popped a balljoint out of the front of the 929. It laid stricken, partially blocking the driveway to our alley, for at least a week later.

I felt guilt every time I looked upon the forlorn Mazda: perhaps I could have done something earlier, offered him parts from my stock, or even just bought the car and put it out of its misery by feeding it into the junkyard crusher like someone should have decades previous. Luckily for me, that’s when the notes began.

“Car is sick, please do not tow” was the first of the notes my neighbour left to keep the coyotes of parking enforcement at bay. Beneath the Sharpied words was drawn a crude frowny face with a thermometer, as if the Mazda had developed some kind of temporary illness from which it would recover with enough bed rest and high-opiate cough syrup. I dutifully took a picture, and shared it with my band of philosophically-aligned freaks to laugh at the personification of the car.

As the weeks passed, and the weather turned, the note became wet with snow and was removed and replaced by a newly laminated one. I began to feel as if the notes were less effective than the fact that parking enforcement had been afraid to go down our street ever since the handbrake cable on my old Volare got a little weak and rolled down the hill into one of their dorky little three-wheeled meter maid cars. The new note said simply “Come And Get Me, Capitalist Fucker Of Mothers.” Underneath it, the frowny face had been replaced by a crude yet dimensionally-accurate drawing of an AKS-74u assault carbine.

For years, due to my rampant abuse of street parking, I had trained myself to hear the sound of a tow truck from a dead sleep. That night, I awoke just in time to see the parking enforcement’s armoured tow truck, usually reserved for seizing the vehicles of gang leaders and drug dealers, arrive and deploy the stinger in hopes of capturing the dying 929. A rose-shaped muzzle flash from my neighbour’s back fence came the response as he emptied the rifle’s magazine into the bed of the fleeing tow truck.

I was away from home when the tactical team showed up to tow his car. A normal person would feel bad for his neighbour, forced by the ludicrous expenses of local parts stores and mechanics into taking matters into his own hands, but now I had a hot tip on where to get a super-cheap Mazda 929 that just needed some new ball joints from the police auction, and a parking spot that had enough room for it, as soon as they finished hosing off the blood.

It’s been a strange week. And I feel like I need to say this to clear my head.

I do realize that my platform is very small. And I am fully aware that what I experience is on a much, much smaller scale compared to what other people in the industry deal with. And I’m not sure what it is about that one hurtful comment out of so many nice ones that really sticks with you. Why that feeling is carried around for weeks, months, years afterwards. That may sound dramatic, but I am a person that feels a lot. I do have a lot of insecurities. I grew up getting made fun of. In elementary school I was happy. I was friends with everyone. It was very free. In second grade each person in my class was asked who their best friend was. Almost every person named me. My mom loves that story. But something changed for me from fifth grade to sixth grade. Elementary school to middle school. Suddenly none of my friends would sit with me at lunch. Just like that. First day of school, none of them spoke to me. Had something happened over the summer? Had I changed? I felt the same. It was only a few months. It became very obvious very quickly. I was uncool. I didn’t brush my hair. I had glasses. I wore all over sized t shirts with dragons on them. I didn’t wear makeup. My skin was bad.

I was frequently asked if I was in the wrong restroom. “Get out, this is the girls’ room.” “I am a girl…” I would say. I didn’t understand. How was I suddenly so different from my peers?


I felt like something was wrong with me. I became very uncomfortable in my own skin. I began to always let my hair hang in front of my face. So I could hide at all times. I hated walking through the halls. I hated gym glass where no one wanted to be my teammate. I hated group projects where no one wanted me in their group. I hated looking for a table that would accept me at lunch. I hated walking on to the bus wondering what sort of rude comment was going to be said to me that day. I looked forward to being home alone with my dog.

Partway through seventh grade, I started to get attention from a popular guy in my grade. I felt like my luck had finally changed. I felt like maybe I was becoming less of an outcast. One day after science class he and his friends handed me a note saying he liked me. He was theatrically going “Don’t show her!!! Oh my gosh!!! Don’t give her that!” They all laughed when I took the note. It was a joke. They were making fun of me. I could not get out of the room fast enough.

I fell for it again later that year with a different guy. I even went home and told my mom that someone liked me and that I couldn’t believe it. Later that week he called me over to his table at lunch. Where he and all of his friends laughed at me. I never told my mom that it was a trick. I was too embarrassed.

This same behavior from my classmates continued throughout all of middle school. I felt so isolated. In eighth grade in art class I was sitting at my assigned table. A kid walked over to me from another table and said “You smell weird.” And walked away. He went out of his way, left his table, to walk over to my table and tell me that. It’s almost impressive the lengths that people will go to to make you feel bad about yourself.

The summer before ninth grade I decided to make a change. I started to wear makeup. I wore fitted shirts and tighter jeans. I looked forward for school to start to show off my new look. I wasn’t afraid of the bus that first day of school. The bus pulled up. I walked on. I was greeted with “You look weird..” and “what’s on your face?” Nothing had changed. I could not escape my reputation of being uncool. I still had no one to sit with at lunch. Still picked last in gym class. Still laughed at in the halls. If anything, me trying just made it worse. My classmates felt even more inclined to put me in my place and keep me there. I cannot put into words the dread I felt stepping on to the bus every day after school. Knowing there was going to be an incident no matter how quietly I sat trying to disappear in my seat.

One day I decided that the kids on the bus were no longer going to get to me. No matter what they said, I would show no reaction. The usual remarks began. I looked straight ahead. They got louder. I looked straight ahead. I was upset, but not showing it. And I found power in that. All of a sudden I felt something land in my hair. It was gum. I didn’t see who threw the first piece, but it ended with everyone on the bus throwing their gum at me. I still sat there silently, staring ahead. Waiting for the bus to reach my stop. I had to walk past everyone who had just thrown their gum at me. I think they knew they had gone too far because one of them mumbled “sorry” to me as I walked past. My eyes were tearing up, but I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. I walked straight off the bus, into my house, into the bathroom, and straight into the shower. My younger sister (7 or 8 at the time) was already home and knew something was wrong. She came to the bathroom door. “Are you okay?” I respond with “I know this is a strange request, but please don’t make me explain. Will you bring me the peanut butter from the kitchen and hand it to me?” She was kind and didn’t ask.

My clothes, my shoes, my backpack, my hair. All had these kids’ gum stuck to it. Did you ever get gum in your hair as a child? Do you know how hard it is to get out? I had six pieces of gum in my hair alone.


This followed me through multiple schools. It didn’t matter where I was. In tenth grade my family moved. I started a new school. I cried for weeks. Luckily, I met Brad and some other kids from the music department. I had someone to share a locker with. I was relieved for that. But I still got made fun of in the halls. Still picked last in gym class. Still no one wanted to be my partner for class projects. I was still laughed at in public. Still had people yell “faggot” out of their car windows at me. Still barked at by groups of high school guys at the grocery store.

These events have happened to me less and less over the past couple of years. I decided I was going to try and have a less friendly outer exterior. To try hard to not try. To appear as if I didn’t feel like crawling out of my skin. I chose a career where I have to be a little more visible. I can’t always hide. I have to put myself out there more than I usually would. But please realize that just because I am a little more visible, doesn’t mean I feel the hurtful words any less. You have no idea what someone has been through. And I will never understand why it’s so easy for people to say things they would never say to someone if they were sitting next to you. What is so dehumanizing about this tiny screen?

I’m not sure what it is about the internet where people no longer become people. And you just have to accept that you’re going to get the rude comments. And we are able to justify those comments by saying “well, it’s the internet. What did you expect?” How is that what we’ve come to expect? People feel comfortable commenting on photos of me writing all day saying “Damn, you used to be pretty. What the hell happened?” What compels someone to say that? Why is it that this is somehow appropriate? I am truly not trying to be overly sensitive (which I know I am prone to doing) it’s just something I will never come to terms with. Why would anyone feel the need to say something like that to anyone? Especially someone they’ve never met. You have no idea what someone has been through. You have no idea what they struggle with.

I’ve been dealing with my depression and my insecurities for most of my life. And I do realize that these are issues that I need to work on for myself and the people close to me. I’m in a really good place right now. I have people who love me. I’m in a really good, healthy relationship. A new group of friends who make me feel like I’m worth something and not afraid to be myself. (Who I know would have sat with me at lunch.) But as with anything, I have my ups and downs. It’s easy for me to be catapulted back to those days. To feel the gum in my hair. To feel the stinging embarrassment of someone pretending to like me for a laugh at my expense. One little comment, and I’m there. It still affects my friendships. It affects my self confidence. It affects my job. It affects my relationship. I still hate being shown in photos. I still hide behind my hair.


I’ve been accused of being “tissue paper” in the past, so I have no desire to perpetuate a fragile mentality. I’m not expecting anyone to feel pity for me or to feel bad for the experiences I’ve had. But maybe for people to understand that there is always more than the tiny window into someone’s life that you see on a screen. You don’t know me unless you know me. You don’t know anyone unless you know them. Everyone has dark corners of their mind. Every single person has their own set of issues and triggers. I’m not asking anyone to tiptoe, but to just be kind. To think before you speak. To realize the effect your words have on others.

There is this one incident I always think about from when I was growing up. In ninth grade. I was walking into my last class of the day. I was wearing a pair of jeans that were worn out and very ripped. I was the last one to walk into the room, everyone was already sitting. One of the guys in my class decided to call me out while everyone’s eyes were on me. “Wow, nice pants!” I sat down, defeated. A well liked girl in my grade got upset for me and said “Hey, I think they’re cool.” She gave the guy a dirty look and smiled at me. It was the only time anyone had ever stood up for me. I am still so grateful for her saying that. I will never forget it.

That is the kind of person I try to be. Someone who makes people feel their importance. Everyone is important. And everyone deserves to feel important. And everyone should be treated like they are important. You are all important. Your words are important and powerful. Please use that power wisely.

The rain poured heavily as Castiel stumbled into an empty alley way, bleeding and alone. He had lost his phone and wasn’t strong enough to teleport anywhere. A group of angels had discovered him and tortured him. Luckily, he had escaped and defeated the angels, but not before getting his fair share of wounds. The angel collapsed against the wall and the rain continued to pour.

The redhead pushed her hair out of her face. It stuck to her pale skin and she shivered slightly from the cold rain. She saw someone collapse down an allyway and she picked up her pace. She may not be a nurse, but she did have a few years of lifeguarding under her belt. If they were hurt, the least i she could do was try to help.
“Hello?” She called stepping into the allyway, “Are you hurt?”

@hylian-angel

anonymous asked:

I was in a Kin Server and luckily in that server we could talk shit on those who are ridiculous about people who share (IE those people who call them fakes) and somebody sent pictures of a conversation they had with someone who is like this and this is what they said verbatim: "IM SOANGRY" "I hate this I hatehaveung a double" "THEY'RE UGKY" "Yeah but at least be hot if you're gonna pretend to be me" "It's insulting if you like" "Pretend to be me and you're gross" "I just don't like ugky peopel".

ME

From my first read of Berserk, I’ve hereby fallen in love at first sight. It became my favorite manga of all time. Luckily for me, my closest irl friend loves reading mangas too so I introduced her to my first lo- I mean to Berserk’s universe. I felt so disappointed and hurt by her reaction… She had no enthusiasm whatsoever for it.

I was an emotional wreck, I thought I knew her tastes, I really thought we would talk for hours about it and share our hype for every little updates…! It was going to be amazing!

But she didn’t like it. She didn’t hate it but she told me it was ugly, it was too long (for someone who loves long mangas or Vinland saga) and that she stopped reading very early. In other words, she didn’t care about Berserk at all. But that is ok to not like it. What really broke something inside of me is that she didn’t feel a thing about Berserk. Probably because she is a close friend I felt like I didn’t recognize her anymore.

She didn’t feel a thing when Guts was raped. She didn’t feel a thing when Guts became part of Griffith’s troops. She didn’t feel a thing when Guts was betrayed and broken. Maybe she did, but she gets easily bored when I talk about Berserk, or she ignores me and change the subject… I thought this manga taught people’s things about life but she didn’t want to understand anything. No sadness, no interest, no excitement, no joy, no fear… just a mere duty of reading an epic manga.

But it’s not just an epic manga to me. It’s a door to a room of overwhelming wonderful feelings. It’s a piece of art and gave me so many wonderful reading so far. It was my first real love…

The 100 Song Preference - Walk the Moon

A/N: So, this is the first time I’ve written something using The 100 characters, but I hope y’all like it! Also, I’m just really digging Walk the Moon right now! Anyway, as always let me know what you think and if you have any requests or anything! <3333

Bellamy:

‘You got a look in your eyes
I knew you in a past life
One glance and the avalanche drops
One look and my heartbeat stops.’ -Avalanche 

Bellamy thought you were dead. After the Grounders attacked, he thought he’d lost you forever. But there you were. Being pulled along by Tristan with Finn. Bellamy had seen what Tristan had done to the other poor kid, so he knew he had to do something. Unfortunately, Monroe and Sterling didn’t exactly rush into action once Bellamy reached the count of three.

“What the hell were you thinking?” you hissed at Bellamy.

Even through the exhaustion he managed to roll his eyes, “I was trying to save your ass.”

Finn hushed you both, “Do you two really think this is the time for this?”

As you walked along, shoulders slumped, you heard Monroe and Sterling leave the bushes with a yell. Before they could even reach you though, there was a gunshot. Shocked, you all exchanged confused glances. Suddenly, Kane and other members of the Ark walked through the parted bushes.

“What the hell,” Bellamy muttered.

“Oh my god, they made it,” you whispered.

Once the three of you were untied, Bellamy pulled you off to the side. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

“Other than cuts and bruises? No, I’m fine, I think. What about you?”

“I’m good.”

You both stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. “I thought I lost you, you know?” he finally said.

You huffed, “Boy, you sure have a ton of confidence in me.”

“(Y/N), I’m serious.” He deadpanned.

You watched him for a moment before sighing, “I’m not going anywhere, Bellamy.”

He cracked a smile, as he stared into those same eyes he’d fallen for all those years ago. “Damn right,” he mumbled as he pulled you into a kiss.

Originally posted by zooxzoo

Finn:

‘So here we go head first
No regrets and no rules
We can stay as long as we want
Slow dancing in the darkness
And all I know is I wanna be here with you from now on’ - Aquaman

Your head was pounding as your eyes adjusted to the light. Luckily you had been out of range as Clarke and the others set off the dropship, but now you were left with a major headache and your fair share of injuries. Standing up, you decided to head back towards the camp in search of life.

You made your way to the clearing, not really sure what to expect. “Freeze!” someone shouted from behind you. You had very little energy left, so rather than running or trying to fight, you simply held your hands up and turned around slowly. Guards. From the Ark.

“Wait! Don’t shoot!” You heard a voice. Finn.

“Put your guns down, she’s with us!” That would be Bellamy.

You broke into a smile as the guards hesitantly put their weapons down. Bellamy and Finn raced toward you, both enveloping you into a hug. Bellamy let go first and made his way back toward Monroe and Sterling.

Finn pulled you tighter into his chest. “You’re alive,” he muttered.  

You whispered, “So are you.”

He pulled back, and shook his head with a small smile, “I am never leaving you again.”

You laughed, “You have to give me some space, Spacewalker.”

“I’m just,” he started, “I’m just really glad you’re okay.”

“Me too.”

Fidgeting, he glanced at the ground, “Look, (Y/N), I just want you to know that I really care about you.”

You saw him struggling to put his thoughts into words, so you leaned up and kissed his cheek. “I love you too, Finn.”

Finn grinned and grabbed your hand, before the two of you rejoined the rest of the Ark survivors.

Originally posted by parlov

Murphy:

‘Different colors                                                                      
We carry each other
We’re just different colors 
This is why we’re biting the bullet
We know the kids are right’ - Different Colors

After Finn’s little ‘incident’ at the Grounder camp, you had been in a bit of a daze. You were having trouble eating, sleeping, and just getting through the days. You felt guilty. Actually, that was a bit of an understatement. You felt sick (literally and figuratively). All you could think about were the Grounders’ faces as the life drained from their bodies. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were to blame.

“Hey,” a voice from behind you said. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Murphy holding two cups. “Mind if I join you?”

You shrugged. Murphy lowered himself to the ground and leaned back against what was left of the Ark. “You know,” he sighed, “there are actual chairs that you could sit on over by the fire.” He handed you one of the cups with a smirk.

“Yeah, well I wasn’t exactly in the mood for company.” You responded before taking a sip of the cooled water. “But somehow you found me anyway.”

Murphy rolled his eyes, “Tough luck, ‘cause I’m not going anywhere.”

After a few minutes of silence, Murphy said, “It wasn’t your fault, you know?”

You looked over at him in disbelief, “I didn’t stop him.”

“That wasn’t your job.”

“18 people, Murphy. 18 innocent people died and I didn’t do a damn thing.”

“You tried to calm him down,” he said firmly. “We both did.”

You let his words sink in. “How do you do it?” you asked. “Block it out, I mean?”

Murphy frowned slightly and locked eyes with you, “You just do. There’s nothing you can do about it now, except move on.”

You gave a slight nod and murmured, “Thanks.”

“We’ve got to help each other out, right?”

You chuckled for the first time in days, “Who are you and what have you done with John Murphy? The Murphy I know would never say anything like that.”

Smirking, he threw an arm around you, “People can change, doll.”

Originally posted by john-murphys-trash-queen