mind your speed

I’ve wanted to talk for So Long about the portrayal of anxiety in YOI but I’ve been having so much trouble putting together what I want to say in the most effective manner. I kept trying to come at this in a more analytical fashion, but considering that this is such a personally important topic to me, I’m going to try a more emotional approach. Something I don’t normally do.

So really, to start off, I wanna say that I’m so damn thankful for the way Yuuri is written. Really, seriously. I don’t think I’ve ever had the ability to relate more to character; Yuuri is close to a mirror of my own experiences with anxiety and it’s so fantastic to have a model of development and growth for me and people like me. I found the portrayal to be frighteningly accurate, from types of thoughts, behaviors, mannerisms… I think the episode that stood out to me the most in terms of Yuuri’s anxiety was ep7, aka Yuuri’s on-screen panic attack episode. 

The first thing I noticed was this: 

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve found myself in that exact position. I bounce my legs when I panic, just like Yuuri is doing here. Head in his hands, breathing heavily, bouncing and jostling limbs. This isn’t the Mary-Sue cutesy portrayal of anxiety–this is a real anxiety disorder. It’s not pretty. It’s not easy. It can’t be fixed with a single word or a touch or a person. Quite frankly, it’s ugly and you lose control of your body. 

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Thought I would post this separately. I might try and actually do these more often, though not much. No one wants to see me get 1/3 the way through a build and demolish it because I am not happy with the direction. 

I do have raw footage of a MCM ranch home too that I need to process as well. However the time it takes to upload videos just annoys me. My net is so slow -_-

anonymous asked:

for the love of God i cannot write witty characters. all my dialogue comes off as SUPER cheesy. any advice?

Thanks for your question, darling!  That’s an issue I’m sure we’ve all faced, especially for those of us with different senses of humor (I’m much more a sarcastic/goofy person – not quite wit).  And what makes this worse: there really isn’t advice for us out there!  I always try to research other methods before answering these questions, but I just couldn’t find anything!

So obviously, I don’t have all the answers, but here are a few tips I’ve learned from experience:

  • Decide how they use their wit.  Every witty person does not use their wit in the same situations or for the same reasons.  For each “witty” character, ask yourself: do they use their wit for humor?  Do they use it as protection or a barrier between them and others?  Do they use it to ease social anxiety?  You should also decide if they’re extroverted or introverted – and therefore, do they make an effort to speak up and share their wit, or is it something that slips out?
  • Decide the tone of their wit.  This largely has to do with their personality, but also to do with the questions above.  Are they more sarcastic?  Flirtatious?  Argumentative?  Performative?  Is their tone comforting and open to interplay, or more private and final?  Are they mean-spirited, purposefully or accidentally?  How do others perceive their tone?

Once you’ve discerned what kind of wit your characters use, consider the following:

  • Witty people think quickly.  This doesn’t mean they jump on everything they hear with a quip – but speed is what sets conventionally “clever” people apart.  There are many of us who can think of hilarious, sharp things to say… hours after we’ve gone home.  This may be why you’re struggling.  It’s a lot of pressure to come up with quick, funny comments on the spot if that isn’t how you naturally work.  So try to work with your mind, at your speed.  If it takes you a couple hours to think of a response for your character, take a couple hours.  Type in the gist of what they’re saying and come back for it later.
  • Witty characters are a tool to be used sparingly.  A snarky/overeducated character can easily become annoying if they speak too much – and it’ll stall your writing, too.  So don’t try to make everything that comes out of their mouth a brilliant insight.  Let them speak normally (in their voice, of course), so that their shining moments don’t become glaring.
  • Learn from real-life examples.  My personal favorites: autobiographies of novelists, poets, and comedians.  Watching improv can also be a good resource; going out and meeting new people can expose you to new kinds of wit and humor.  Any method of getting into the mind of naturally witty people will be good research.
  • A witty character isn’t the key to your story.  Unless your plot literally revolves around the wit of a character, you don’t have to try to follow the trend of the funny, brilliant, philosophical/pop-culture-referencing protagonist (or comic relief character).  Every writer has their own strengths and weaknesses!  If it’s really causing you trouble and it’s not necessary to the plot, it may be better for your story to change the character.  There are plenty of other character traits – many of which are less overdone in modern literature, and that’s only a good thing.

That’s all I can really think of for you!  It’s really something to figure out on a scene-to-scene basis, and it varies between characters.  If you need help with certain scenes, feel free to message me and I’ll get back to you soon :)  Good luck!

If you need advice on general writing or fanfiction, you should maybe ask me!

Night Walks - Part 2

Part 1 here

Summary: You like to take late night walks to de-stress, you meet a stranger named Bucky who does the same. 

Prompt(s): Okay I’m combining two: pandarosita: 93 and 94… but Reader being upset rather than Bucky? and an anon request for 64.

93.“I’m telling you. I’m haunted.”
94. “I had a bad dream again.”
Bonus: 64 “Here, take my blanket.”

Warnings: angsty reader

Word Count: 2539

Author’s Note: Okaaay here you go!

Originally posted by jamesbhrnesvevo

You started meeting with Bucky in the park pretty regularly after that.

Sometimes it was light and fun, and you’d maybe meet in time to catch a drink together before the bars closed. Sometimes you’d be brave enough to lean up on your toes to kiss him, or he’d playfully pull you incredibly close, his fingers digging into your side when he discovered just how ticklish you were. Finally, he’d walk you to your door with half-hidden smiles and hushed laughter. On those nights the closeness was tentative and teasing, like a first kiss or an early not-yet-date.

Other times felt heavier. After all, the reason you were out so late, had met at all, was to escape the ghosts that haunted you both in the quiet dark, and some nights they were inescapable, even beneath his comforting gaze or for him the promise of your gentle laughter.

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anonymous asked:

AU where the guys' S/O loses their sight instead of Iggy? They put on a brave face, insisting that they won't be slowed down, that they can still keep up and fight. They act like it's not as big a deal--when eventually they can't keep bottling it up. Reality can't be avoided forever, and they're *terrified*. Scared of being left behind, a burden, and understanding if their boyfriend wishes to abandon their relationship. He wouldn't, but they're so *scared*. They finally cry after the injury.


When I received this ask, I audibly said “Oh wow,” in the middle of the living room. So happy y’all picked it for tonight. Hope you like it. 

Tagging cool people who might enjoy these angsty af feels: @stunninglyignis​, @themissimmortal​, @nifwrites​, @electronerd47​, @ebony-and-chocobos​, @stephicness​, @itshaejinju​ <3 


“He’s awake, Y/N,” Ignis’s distinguished voice rang through your ears in an echo. 

You never knew how loud the world truly was until you were robbed of your sense of sight. 

“Would you like me to assist you to him?” Ignis offered you in a volume just higher than a whisper. Ever since your incident during the Starscourge, you denied any sort of handicap or assistance from any of your traveling companions. 

“No, Ignis. I’m fine,” you stated rather coldly, raising to your feet from the fitted chair that you had become rather fond of during your stay in Altissia’s Leville. 

You couldn’t remember the color of it… but the fabric felt comforting underneath your finger tips. 

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CEO: Part Seven. [smut]

A/N; So this series went on hiatus for a while I apologise. I have been in a mood with it because I hit a block. However much encouragement from @rememberstilinski and @dumbass-stilinski has ended up with me posting it. I really hope that you guys enjoy it! <3

Pairing: StilesxReader

Author: thelittlestkitsune

Warnings: NSFW.

Word count: 6,257

Inspired by this song

Part One  Part Two  Part Three Part Four.  Part Five. Part Six. 

Originally posted by the-rad-grunge-queen

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Homecoming (Michelle X F!Reader)

Fandom: Marvel 

Requested by Anon :  Hi doll! I was wondering if I could request a Michelle (Spiderman) x f!reader where reader is bi and had a crush on Michelle and she doesn’t think she likes her back because of her distant personality. But then reader (or Michelle) ask the other out for Homecoming and they admit their feelings but worry people will judge them for going to the dance as a couple but everyone turns out to be really accepting and nice? Please and thank you!

A/N: I fell in love with this prompt! Enjoy <3 

words: 4k 

Warnings: Some swearing

   You could tell when your Academic Decathlon team had reached Washington DC. Cars and Tourists absolutely covered the whole city, traffic piling up and increasing the wait time. Some of the kids on the team were already taking pictures on their phones, their conversations quick and excited. It took about an extra 45 minutes just to reach the hotel your team would be staying at. The teacher, Mr. Jones, quickly ushered all the other students off the bus, trying to check into the hotel as quick as possible. You slung your bag over your shoulder, wincing at the weight and trying to focus on the sights around you. It was quite overwhelming, to be surrounded by so much and realize that you were actually in the nation’s capital.

   The hotel was about the same size as the biggest one in queens, filled with dozens tourists and kids from other schools. With all the kids distracted and looking around,  the teacher Mr. James started directing them into the check in lines. Mr. Jones stood next to Liz at the front of the line, grabbing a pile of room keys. Going down a list, he started pairing students together to share rooms.

“Peter and Ned, Cindy and Liz, Y/N and Michelle….”

   You stared for a moment as Mr. James held a room key out to you, glancing behind you at Michelle. She had been reading her book, and your eyes met for a brief moment. You smiled nervously and accepted the room key, holding it tightly in your hand. It wasn’t that you didn’t know Michelle- You’d been in the same classes two years in a row. It was that Michelle didn’t know you. Then again, it would be a great time to get to know each other.

   The team started up the stairs and headed towards their separate rooms, and you thought back to all the times you’d been with Michelle in class or during practice. She wasn’t exactly the most open person, but she had her moments where she would talk and laugh with everyone else and occasionally share a witty comeback or answer something the rest of the Decathlon team was stuck on. You had always admired her intellect, untapped but surpassing many of your classmates. It would be amazing to talk to her and get to really know her…

   "Hey" You stopped walking and turned back to see Michelle waving her room key under a handle. “You passed ours” It was so nonchalant and quiet, making your face feel warm as you pushed the thoughts of her away.

   You tugged on your bag strap and whispered a thanks, cursing yourself for getting so lost in thought. Michelle walked in and you followed right after, glad to be able to dump your bag on one of the beds. Michelle jumped on hers, opening her book back up. You smiled and unzipped the bag, pulling out the clothes and toiletries you’d brought so you could put them in the dresser.

   “So… Michelle” She glanced up at you, shutting her book. You took a seat on your own bed, grabbing a pile of flashcards you’d packed. Taking the chance to interact with her, you spoke. “You want to practice with me?”

   “ Jeremy….. We couldn’t possibly be together… My parents”

   “B-But Marie! I love you!”

   “Too bad he was in love with Jessie at the Beginning” Michelle added, rolling her eyes. You laughed a little to show your agreement.  It had been about 3 hours since you arrived in the room. It was dark outside and the teacher had already stopped by to tell the team to go to bed soon. Michelle and you had given up practicing, instead turning on the rooms TV and laughing at the cheesy romantic flicks that the channel was playing.

   Suddenly there was a hurried knock at the door. You and Michelle glanced at each other as if to silently ask Do you know who it is? When neither of you spoke, you figured it was Mr. James or one of your teammates.

   “Y/N!!! Michelle!!” Liz Allan’s voice was muffled, but still easily identifiable. You sat up and rushed to the door, throwing it open. Liz looked excited, putting a finger to her lips. Michelle was watching the two of you, trying to figure out why Liz was there.

   “Hey!!” She was whispering, but the excitement made her volume increase to a whisper yell. “ We’re all going down to the pool to have some fun as a team before the competition tomorrow, you’ve got to come”

    You tilted your head in confusion, glancing at the clock. “It’s 9:30, Mr. James told us to go to bed soon. Don’t you want us to go to bed at a good time for the decathlon?” If anything, you wanted to avoid getting into trouble so you could avoid any stress if you got picked to compete tomorrow.

   Liz waved a hand dismissively. “Well of course, but all of us go to bed at like 11 o’clock on a school night anyway. I listened to a TED talk and it’ll be good for team building” You thought for a moment. It did sound like a whole lot of fun, and if Michelle and the others were there you could spend some quality time with them. Then it hit you.

“Wait- I didn’t bring a swimsuit though, I didn’t think we’d be able to use the pool”

   “What? Flash didn’t tell you guys about the plan?” Liz made it sound like something that Flash would actually do, as if it wasn’t obvious that he never talked to people like you.

   You fidgeted with your hands a little bit, laughing. “Yeah, Flash doesn’t really talk to people like me so…” Liz nodded knowingly and gestured to Michelle.

“Well, You two can always still come just to talk and have fun? What do you say?”

   You glanced back at Michelle, waiting for her input. She shrugged and stood up with her book, staying silent but making it clear that she would come with you to hang out on the side of the pool. You gave her a warm smile, glad to be able to talk to her more.

   Liz gave you some quick directions before saying that she was going off to find Peter and Ned, leaving you and Michelle to walk down to the pool by yourselves. It wasn’t too long of a walk and signs helped you find the way. Michelle walked ahead to open up the door for you, bowing dramatically. It was something you didn’t expect, but it was still charming and funny all the same. You laughed and said thank you, taking that as a sign she’d opened up to you a little more.

   “Hey, where’s penis Parker?” You glanced at a shirtless, swimming  Flash Thompson. Everyone in the room either rolled their eyes or ignored his comment. Michelle had already taken a seat.

   “Um.. Liz went to go get him. I’m just going to sit over here…. With Michelle” Flash barely acknowledged what you said and went back to talking with Cindy, who looked more annoyed than interested. You stood alone, glancing around the dark room and the walls, which were illuminated by the water below. Teammates laughed and splashed around in the pool below you, giving you a quick sense of belonging.

   You finally took a seat right next to Michelle, watching her read her book and shifting slightly in your seat. She didn’t seem to be interested, but you were desperate to talk with her. A moment like this, away from class and tons of other students, you could finally get close to her. It was almost off-putting, to say the least. You tried to tell yourself that quite a lot of people preferred avoiding conversation and that it was just how Michelle was. She seemed to notice you staring and your face started to heat up, looking away for a moment. You put your head in one of your hands, sighing.

    “Sorry, um… I’m not creepy, I promise” You mentally slapped yourself over and over. I’m not creepy??? What was that?? She didn’t seem to mind though.

    “ I didn’t think so.” She stared down at her book, eyes skimming the page to the end. She bookmarked it and closed it, turning her attention to you. “Sorry- I’m obsessed with this book, I didn’t mean to ignore you” You just stared, the corners of your lips turning up slightly. You didn’t even have to explain yourself! She had just shut her book and wanted to talk to you. No one wanted to talk to you unless you fully initiated the conversation.

    “Oh! Cool….” You racked your brain for conversation topics, thousands running through your mind at top speed. You picked the most easiest one. “What’s your book about?”

    This seemed to be the perfect choice; Michelle’s face lit up when you gave her the opportunity to express her interest. She smiled broadly at you. The fact that you had never seen her smile this way was a crime. In that moment, before she spoke and before the night ended, she was so happy and shining.

    You listened intently as she explained the plot and the characters, making you intrigued. By the end of the night, the two of you had shared your favorite books and movies, explaining our favorite details and things about them. It was more than you could’ve asked for. What you hoped would be a simple conversation turned into a full blown excited discussion about what you both loved.

    You both walked back to your room excited and closer, barely able to go to sleep until Liz texted you to make sure you were both getting to sleep at a good time. You fell asleep exhausted but content, dreaming about book plots and competitions.

    The next day, you were woken up by your alarm clock and a knock on your door from Mr. Harrington. Michelle was already dressed and brushing her teeth. You smiled and started to get ready, your outfit already planned out for the event. You were second alternate, meaning if one of the team didn’t know up or wanted to switch out during the match you would get your chance. It was only your first year on the team, so it was actually a relief to not be shoved into the spotlight quite yet.

   When you arrived at the auditorium, Mr. Harrington directed you to the first row of seats so you could watch your team. They walked out onto the stage with the other team, shaking hands with each other before making their way to their designated seats. You clapped with the rest of the audience, anxiety pooling in your stomach. This wasn’t the average school meetup- this was the final match of the year and the whole school (who paid attention to these things) was counting on your team to bring home the trophy.

   Minutes and answers ticked by, tension rising. It was decided by you and the rest of the team that you shouldn’t switch in for anyone since the problems were getting harder and harder.

“We have entered sudden death. ” You sat on the edge of your seat, chewing on your lip. Your teammates looked nervous, but prepped themselves for the final question. the announcer read the question and before she could even finish it, a buzzer sounded. Your eyes shot towards Michelle. She stared at the buzzer for a moment as if her mind hyper focused on the fact that she had to answer. You could barely think. Everything seemed to freeze.

   Then, Michelle shrugged. “Zero.”

And it was right.

   The whole room exploded. You sat in your seat, shocked as everyone stood up and clapped around you. She had done it. Holy shit. Your mouth was still open in disbelief. The team was hugging Michelle tightly, cheering her on. When they broke apart, your eyes met and you both smiled. In that moment, you realized. The constant wish to talk to her, the appreciation for her smarts and interests, and that smile.

You had a crush on her.

   You’d spent the last few hours in DC with your class exploring the capital, taking dozens of pictures to show to the other students when you got back. You hadn’t been on the elevator when the explosion occurred; you had insisted on staying on the ground to talk more with Michelle. Though you weren’t in danger from the explosion, you started to feel like you were in danger. What would you do with this newfound revelation that you liked Michelle? You weren’t out to your parents, or anyone for that matter. You couldn’t act on your feelings without coming out first.

   You didn’t hold back from hanging out with Michelle after the trip. It was easily seen as platonic to the outside world, giving you no reason to worry about anyone discovering your sexuality. Occasionally, she would come over to your house and watch movies or study, and you would sit next to her at lunch. People did notice that a little bit, as Michelle had always insisted she sat alone because she ‘didn’t have any friends’. You thought that was nice.To you, it didn’t matter if you were out of the closet or if you were dating. Though that was a bonus, it meant that no matter what, she was your friend.

   You got sick one day. Just a cold, but bad enough to make you skip school and forget to have your parents excuse you. It landed you an after school detention. The only good part about it was Peter and Michelle, who sat next to you. There was no talking, but you passed some notes with Michelle to pass the time.

   After a while, she didn’t respond to your note. You kept looking at her, silently asking what was up. Each time she would wave a hand, dismissing you. You frowned and waited for her to explain. A few minutes passed. Another few minutes. Finally, She held out her notebook to you. She held it in a way that hid her half her face, looking at you expectantly.

   You glanced at the page. She’d… drawn you? It was quite exceptional. She captured your smile perfectly, your heart jumping. You kept examining it, looking at the note at the bottom.


   Your smile fell flat. You reread the word several times. Everything in you froze. You stared for several moments before Michelle closed the notebook, looking away. You’d made her think you didn’t want to go. Quickly, you ripped off a piece of your notebook paper ( Your science report, you might or might not regret that later) and started scribbling.


You crumpled it up and threw it in her lap, hiding your face in your arms. God. This was both the worst and best moment of your life. You had no idea how to feel. On one hand, your crush had just asked you to the dance. On the other hand, you couldn’t go with her since you weren’t out of the closet. You felt something nudge your arm and sat up, un-crumpling the note. Under your writing, Michelle had responded.

The detention guy never pays attention. Do u want to go talk?

   You looked back at her and nodded, waiting for her to get up and walk out of the classroom. You hadn’t realized how easy it was. You slowly inched out of your seat, the other kids looking at you like just go already, jesus. You gave a small wave and stepped out of the classroom into the hallway. Michelle was walking towards the girls bathroom, probably to keep your conversation private.

   No one was in the hallway anyway, but it was definitely appreciated. You walked in, seeing Michele lean against the counter. She gave you a half smile, probably waiting for you to start talking.

“Hey….” not a good start. “Listen.. I really like you Michelle, and I’d give anything to go to homecoming with you. It’s just-”

“You’re not out yet? That’s fine, Y/N” She shrugged. “I get it. You don’t have to tell people if you’re not ready, okay? We can always just tell people we’re going as friends. Girls like Betty do that all the time.” You thought for a moment about that. It would still mean you got to go to the dance with her, but it felt incomplete.

“That would be great! “ You decided. “I mean, this is already great, but you made it better”

“Alright, cool. “ Michelle zipped up her sweatshirt, acting like it was no big deal despite the fact that you were both freaking out internally. She flicked her wrist, uncovering her watch from her sweatshirt sleeve. “Detentions over by now, My dad’s picking me up in a few minutes so I have to go meet him out front. See you on Saturday?”

   You nodded and she walked out, leaving you to lean on the wall and grin like crazy, hugging your arms to your chest as excitement and pure joy exploded in your chest. You were going to the dance with Michelle.

   Your mother let you pick out a nice dress at the mall, still excited even though to her you didn’t have a date. It hurt that you weren’t telling her, but you knew it was the best option for you at the moment.

   The night of the dance, You got ready a few hours before to make sure your hair and outfit were perfect.Just for the heck of it, your mom bought a corsage for you to wear around your wrist because “it adds charm!” It ended up too much time to get ready, which meant you had to spend the last hour letting your parents take pictures for photo albums and Facebook. You and Michelle decided it was best to just meet up at the dance instead of picking each other up so you could avoid any potential awkward situations.

   On the ride there, you kept watching your mom in the mirror. To her, she was just dropping you off at the dance alone to have a few hours of fun with friends. But to you, you were going to the dance with a girl who you’d had a crush on for weeks. You wondered if she ever suspected that you were bi. You were stuck in a place where you desperately wanted her to suspect so you could tell her and be done with it, but you also wished she didn’t suspect so you didn’t have to have that conversation yet.

  The dance was in full swing by the time you arrived. Kids were waiting on the steps in clumps, meeting up with their friends and heading inside. You said goodbye to your parents and they drove off, telling you how wonderful you looked. The music from outside was silenced a lot by the walls of the school, but still reached your ears as you walked up the stairs. Michelle was waiting by the doors.

   She was wearing a simple but beautiful dress, which was white with flowers decorating it. You grinned and stood in front of her. Behind her, more couples walked into the dance together holding hands. It made you think for a second. You stared at the corsage on your wrist for a moment, before reaching for it and pulling it off. Michelle watched as you held it out to her, face warming.

“It’s a corsage… My mom gave it to me for extra decoration, or something”

   Michelle accepted it, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You know this is usually a couple thing, right? I thought you wanted to go as friends for now?” You shifted on your feet, shrugging.

“I’ve been thinking. It’s not like anyone here knows my parents, and it was my new year’s resolution to come out this year anyway. “ You took a deep breath, gesturing to the corsage. “I want to go as a couple, not just friends.” Michelle nodded and smiled as you helped her put the corsage on her wrist, trying not to look like an idiot. When it was on, she slid her hand into yours, leading you into the dance.

   The room was warm with everyone packed in and dancing, but not too uncomfortable. In the distance, Ned was at the punch bowl waving you guys over. He barely seemed to notice your interlocked hands, which was reassuring. Next to him was Cindy and Abe, both talking and swaying slightly to the song.

“Y/N!” You turned around to see Betty walking towards you. “I love your dress so much! Oh hey, yours too Michelle”  Michelle nodded her head towards the punch table, turning away to say hi to Ned. Betty captured your attention once again.

“I think it’s adorable how you and Michelle came as friends, i love doing that” You winced and thought of how to tell her. “ I think sometimes dates are overrated and not worth the pressure, it’s always awesome to just go with your best friend” Your stomach clenched. This was the moment to tell her, to come out.

“Actually, Betty, w-we came as a couple” You waited for her to say something like Didn’t you date a boy a few months ago? Or Really? Huh, I never would’ve thought you liked girls. Instead, she looked at Michelle then back to you.

“Oh my gosh, really?” You nodded awkwardly, fidgeting with the fabric of your dress. “Oh gosh, sorry! I probably should’ve realized when I saw her with the corsage. “ She was laughing. Not at you, but at herself. “Anyway, do you want to take a selfie? It’s my goal to get as many students as I can.”

   “Sure, why not” You laughed. It was no big deal to her. You felt relief wash over you and got up close to her for the picture. You tried not to blink while the camera flashed, capturing your big smile. Satisfied with the results, Betty put the picture on her Snapchat story and spoke again.

“ I better go see if I can get a selfie with Peter, sorry for leaving! Tell Michelle I said I hope you guys have fun!!” She walked away, heading straight for peter. You stood by yourself for a moment, letting yourself bask in the comfort and music. Michelle was laughing behind you at one of Ned’s jokes, and you walked over to them. Ned and the others seemed to already know, and it wasn’t a big deal to them either. Michelle grabbed your hand again, squeezing slightly and pulling you to her side.

For a while, you stood just like that with your friends. You listened to Neds jokes and Cindy’s plans for her future, occasionally inputting your opinions and goals. It was nothing like the lonely, odd dance last year. Your date was the best girl you knew, and you were surrounded by your best friends.

24k Magic ended in the background, replaced by a slower, calmer tune. A song for a slow dance. Students who were previously sitting on the sidelines grabbed their dates and walked to the center of the room. Michelle stood up beside you and you joined her, letting time slow down. She found a spot on the dancefloor where it wasn’t too cramped, putting a somewhat shaky hand on your waist. It was surprisingly really warm, making you relax more. You put your hands on her shoulder, starting to sway in sync with the song.

Betty scooted up next to you, slow dancing with Ned. She gave you a thumbs up and managed to take a picture before turning back to focus on the dance. It was awkward to glance around the room at everyone else, but it also felt awkward to stare at Michelle the whole time. You gave in and focused on her. Your eyes met, neither of you looking away.

You went undisturbed for the whole song and few minutes after, eventually letting Michelle lay her head on your shoulder as you swayed back and forth. Your eyes fell shut, hoping the moment would last forever. Your heart fluttered in your chest. Just glancing at Michelle, you felt like the luckiest girl alive. You didn’t notice when the song changed. Music was the last thing in your mind. Even dancing to an upbeat dance song, you didn’t want to move.

Everything was too perfect.

A calm Sunday (part 2)

Originally posted by all-about-that-fandoms

Pairing: modern!IvarxReader
Rating: Explicit
Words: 2004
Warning: Smut, dom/sub, spanking

Notes: Part twoooo. I lost count of how many times I blushed writing this! I hope it’s good and credible. Again, sorry for any mistakes! Enjoy heathens! 

“Is my little pet ready for her punishment?” He cooed, pulling at your panties to get them off your legs. 

You wriggled on his lap, trying to position your body in the most confortable way possible. Your ass would soon be sore, no need to have another aching body part. Your ass and your thighs lay on his lap and you crossed your arms to put your head on it.

Ivar made a displeased noise, “Tsk. Hands behind your back, Y/N.”

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I’LL BE THERE {One Shot Namjoon}

Author’s Note: Because of that anon, I wanted to mix my writing and my life, just so you all kind of understand what happened that made that statement so difficult for me to swallow. And then I PROMISE I will go back to writing happy stories.

Clutching your legs to your chest, you rocked side to side and didn’t know how to call Namjoon. To call him with such difficult news was not something you wanted to do while he was out on tour, but you couldn’t keep him in the dark about something like this. Dialing his number, you shaky hand made its way up to your ear as you thought back on your day.

You’re watching yourself go blind. Your doctor told you as you sat there, alone, with numb eyes. Only yesterday, you were complaining to Namjoon about a lack of sight in your periphery. You looked through one eye and noticed a gray sheen over half of your vision. He had urged you to go to the doctor, so you made an eye appointment for the next day and now you were here.

Blind. You murmured back, the tears were caught in your throat as you tried to comprehend it. The darkness in your vision was now terrifying, no longer an inconvenience, it was now sheer terror. But I’m only 21. You replied and your doctor gave you a sad look.

From the looks of it, you have a rare genetic condition that goes after your retinas. He said in a professional manner. In the simplest of terms, your eye is made up of four main parts. The eye wall, the lens, the retina, and then the fluid in the middle. Your lens works a lot like the lens of a camera, if it can’t see clearly, we fix that with contacts or corrective glasses. Then you have the fluid in your eye, that’s why your eye is a bit squishy, as you age, it breaks down and becomes more liquid-like. Then you have the wall and the retina, these two things work together like walls and wallpaper. The retina is like the film of a camera, it sees the image, sends it up to your brain and then your brain tells you what it is. You followed the doctors speech. If the retina breaks away from the wall, then you lose sight in that area and right now, your eye might go completely blind in the next couple of days. He said so simply that you felt the wind knock right out of your lungs.

A genetic condition? Namjoon said on the other end of the phone. You had regurgitated as much of the information as you could remember.

Yea, I guess it’s pretty rare. I have retinal issues in my family, so it makes sense. You mumbled back. The doctor had only given you one choice. Surgery.

What kind of surgery? Namjoon asked and you only told him the name.

It’s called scleral buckle. From what I could understand, they put something on my eye permanently so that the retina attaches back to the wall. You tried to explain, but you were also pretty confused by the procedure. There was a high success rate for the retinal re-attachment, the only catch. Even if the retina reattaches, they can’t be sure my vision will come back. You told Namjoon and listened to his sharp breath intake. He sat in silence on the other end of the phone.

So when’s the surgery? He asked the dreaded question. You looked down at the hospital gown, your heart pounding.

Tomorrow. You mumbled.

TOMORROW?! He screeched and you closed your eyes, trying to hold back the tears. You had never felt so far from him until this moment. You were destined to go into this surgery and he was thousands of miles away.

I don’t want you to worry. You told him, but you knew it didn’t matter.

Y/N, you’re my girlfriend. Of course I’m going to worry. What time tomorrow? He asked every question under the sun, but you knew he could never get there in time.

Just let it rest. You replied. You need to stay where you are and be with the guys. You can’t abandon your fans just to hold my hand before surgery. This was a moment in time you wish you could banish. You hated Namjoon being an idol at this one moment. He huffed.

Okay. He sighed and you didn’t need to see him to know he was hanging his head in worry, probably throwing a hand through his messy hair. Is it okay if I tell the guys? He asked and you smiled. Namjoon was always considerate of your feelings, always checking to make sure you were alright with his actions.

Of course, they deserve to know. You responded. Namjoon sighed once more. He knew that your family was away, that you were probably sitting alone in a hospital room, your mind racing of all the worst case scenarios and no one there to hug you tight. He hated this part of his job, in moments like this, he needed to be there for you, but alas, he was stuck far away. As the two of you hung up, there were tears shed on opposite sides of the globe. Tears of fear and regret, guilt and pain. You fell asleep with stained cheeks as you tried to imagine the world through one eye.

As the morning sunlight came bursting through, you scanned the room. Is this the last time I’ll see the world like this. You murmured to yourself as you tried to banish those negative thoughts from your mind. The speed at which you were going into surgery didn’t give you time to freak out too much and in a way that was a blessing. Your doctor came in and gave you the run down as he marked your right eye with a pen.

Now, no eating or drinking. Do you have someone to drive you home from the hospital? He asked and you nodded. Your friend was driving to the hospital as you spoke, but she wouldn’t be there in time to see you before you went under anesthesia. The doctor left the room so you could be alone for a moment and your phone rang. Looking at the illuminated screen, you saw Facetime: Namjoon. Answering the call, you were suddenly eye and eye with Namjoon’s gorgeous face. He smiled at you as a tear made its way into his eye.

I was hoping I would catch you before you went under. He mumbled and you smiled back.

Well you’re just in time. You replied and he nodded. Looking at you through the technology, he scanned your eyes.

I wanted to look you in the eye when I said this. I love you. No matter what. If you have one eye or no eyes or all your sight, I will always love you. If you need a guiding hand, I will be there. If you need someone to hold you and tell you everything is okay, I’m your guy. Just know that no matter how well you can see, I will always be your eyes. I will always love you. He reiterated and you smiled widely as tears rushed down your cheeks. Going into surgery after that wasn’t so scary because you knew someone was there that would always love you.

Even if I can’t see after this, I always have you. You told yourself as you thought of Namjoon’s face. Life wasn’t going to be easy, but with him around, you didn’t have a reason to worry.

Author’s Note: Hello again! So yea. I have a genetic condition in which my retina breaks away from my eye. It is very likely that I will go blind at a much earlier age, but I have an amazing surgeon and wonderful support system that have helped me through this. It is a difficult thing for me to swallow, since I still want to see so much of the world, but it has taught me to appreciate every little thing that I see. Much love - C

incolumitas; jungkook

genre: angst, mild fluff, triggering? (action au)

words: 3.3K

summary: incolumitas - freedom from harm. the only kind of feeling you truly felt with jungkook.

member: jungkook from bts

Originally posted by jengkook

A/N: hello baby stars! yes, i have returned after a tremendously long hiatus. in all honesty, it feels good to be back and updating and hopefully getting this blog back on track. while on hiatus, i took some time to really look at myself as a writer and see what needed to be improved, what needed to be changed and what are my goals. i do hope that this new change isn’t too scary, and is better than the way things were before and i hope that you precious baby stars continue to support this blog and all the writers on this blog. as for this scenario, this is really a scenario i wrote a while ago that i felt the need to improve since there was a lot of things that could of been added to the idea, which is why this will be more than one part. anyways thank you so much and happy reading! x  

yours truly, admin tina.

The world in which we all know now had undergone a handful of drastic changes since the age of selfies, social media and other aspects that once were familiar to others.

A series of wars that weren’t taken too seriously around those times had gotten out of hand, their wicked leaders turning out victorious in bloody wars that were fought for the safety of others. Gradually, these wicked leaders that were the main representatives for groups of people who were nothing but brainwashed or forced to undergo those horrific experiences for the sake of their family were taking over the world country by country. This was the start of what you would like to call the loss of humanity.

Then, just when things couldn’t get much worse, with countries all over the world being ruled by a government that only spoke of empty promises of a better tomorrow, the Virus broke out.

You weren’t sure where the Virus originated from, with fear of your itty bitty country being taken over by those rebellious, brainwash-enthusiast leaders running through your mind at the speed of light. However, that did not matter when a seemingly small disease that weakened the lives of three people turned to a serious, life-threatening disease that was killing off your human race thousands by thousands each day.

Your country was one of the lucky ones; the very few countries that those evil leaders had taken over last, or not at all since there wasn’t many resources that certain piece of land could provide. Therefore, people of those countries, including you, were given more time to prepare yourselves for the hell that was about to come. It wasn’t that nobody had initially thought of putting a stop to those leaders, or discovering a cure for the Virus, but they easily outnumbered the remaining untouched countries and no one had come up with a cure quick enough. Therefore, all there was to do, was to hope. To pray for a better day, or at least prepare yourself for what tragic events were to come.

But, no one was prepared for what was to happen next.


It was all too vivid in your mind. Gunshots were fired at a constant pace, and the screams of angered men awoke you from the enjoyable slumber you were attempting to fully immerse yourself in, for it could be your last. In a haste, you peeked outside your window, your thoughts proven to be correct as rebels belonging to those evil leaders littered the streets of your quiet neighbourhood. Being prepared for a situation such as this, the first thing you grabbed was the M9 hand-gun that was typed underneath your bed.

The object felt cold against your skin, as it did the first day your father trained you how to use it, if you ever needed to protect yourself.

Heavy footsteps were hammering themselves on the floor of your bedroom, arising goosebumps against your exposed skin but nevertheless, with no time to quietly escape, you hid in your closet, crammed inside the tight space with a gun in hand and your survival backpack digging into your right side.

Then, when you were just about to let out a pained whimper, you heard your mother screech at the top of her lungs and a deep, distant and mumbled, “don’t kill her,”.Two gunshots were fired, echoing throughout the entire floor. It was one of the gunshot sounds that you could never allow yourself to forget, for those were the gunshots that brutally murdered your parents. The house was silent afterwards, despite your mouth that begged to let out a whimper — one of despair rather than pain. The rebels who had invaded your home murdered your parents. They had to pay for what they did, one way or another.

As you attempted to hold back your whimpers and hiccups, those exact rebels who murdered your parents in cold blood invaded your bedroom, searching for any signs of life. Although, when your eyes laid on those rebels that you could see through small holes in your closet door and you wanted nothing more but to avenge the death of your parents, you refrained from doing so and let them get on with their business.

  “There’s no one here,” One of the rebels grunted in a husky voice.

“But there is some skippy underwear,” Another one of the rebels observed, presumably picking through your underwear drawer. The thought nauseated you. “Guess this one was a whore.”

The rebels shared a brief laugh before footsteps started approaching your closet. It was now or never.

Either you surrender yourself to those rebels who will murder you like they did your parents, or you could fight for your life. Fight like your parents wanted you to do.

The door opened and before the rebel could even comprehend you were squashed in the tight space, a bullet went through his head, right between where his furry eyebrows should be.

  That was for my father, you told yourself if the ugly monster of guilt started to creep up on you for killing a living soul.

You sprung into action, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you spotted the other rebel by your underwear drawer, shooting him exactly where his private parts were before he could give himself to adapt to the sudden change in plans. You proceeded towards the man lying on your carpeted floor, your foot pressing against his throat, evoking gurgling sounds out of him instead of pleas of help.

“You are sick and the one of the reasons why our world is like this,” You added more weight onto your foot, a chorus of gurgles following your action. Tears brimmed in your eyes as you gazed into the rebels eyes, not seeing him but your mother, laid beneath your foot with a look of content. “Shoot me,” she said.

“I can’t.” You wanted to argue, a if you were convinced that this was your mother beneath you. However, it wasn’t. She was laying in a pool of her own blood, having died right next to one of the people she loved most. You shook your head, and without looking, fired, pausing the gurgling sounds all together.

And that, was for your mother.

A month after your life changed for the better or worse, depending on how you viewed your current situation, you were breathing what you considered to be your last breaths.

By some miracle, you managed to getaway from your home that was no longer  safe, taking one last look at your parents laying in bed. You pretended like they were sleeping for the sake of your sanity. From then on, you were on your own. Nobody in your quiet neighbourhood were anticipating such an attack, with the rebels stating officially that weren’t intending on invading your country anytime soon. Therefore, many of them, if not all of them, were dead, hopefully passing while they were asleep, so they wouldn’t have to experience such traumatic events during the last minutes or seconds of their lives.

Following through with the plan your parents engraved into your mind if this were to ever happen, you ventured towards the next city by foot instead of by car, since that would be a little too obvious to rebels you feared still lurked around your city. In the next city that remained untouched by rebels, you found the last of any type of family you had.

Your uncle, Jisoo, was surprised by your presence, but quickly straightened himself out and provided you with whatever could keep you alive while the thought of his brother and who he thought was a real sister to him being murdered lingering at the back of his mind. In spite of your desperate pleads for him to accompany you on a trek towards some safe houses for people like you, individuals, he remained where you had first seen him standing in his bicycle store, claiming that he would be fine where he was, even though he was well aware he wasn’t.

You left his shop with tears welling in your eyes, the monster of grief clawing at your throat, leaving bleeding, raw scratches in its trail as you hopped onto a bicycle your uncle Jisoo gifted you with and peddled away. 

The rebels had merely assumed the place you were travelling to was another abandoned factory but was in fact what some people called home, so it was safer there for you than wondering the streets and just waiting to be killed. Your uncle Jisoo enlightened you with the information that the settlement provide shelter, food, water, clothing; all the essentials in your bag that were bound to run out if you didn’t venture towards the safe house.

  In addition to supplying basic human needs, uncle Jisoo told you that they taught self-defence lessons there, if people were to leave their compounds and travel to who knows where for whatever reasons. But, you weren’t intending on leaving the safe house — for a little while, at least.

To get to the safe house, you were forced with having to cross a mini desert that separated you from feeling safe again. Well, as safe as someone could feel living in a world like yours. At first, you were doing well and only consumed your resources when it was necessary, aware that you had to be rational with them. But, fast forward thirteen days after you started walking the scorching desert, and you were clinging onto your life, coughing up sand, shrivelled up in the sand like something left outside to dry and as stated before, breathing your last breaths.

  You heard what sounded like a car which you right off the bat assumed was owned by rebels. Your will to survive had long gone, and you were ready. Ready to join your parents in heaven, where you could finally feel at peace with yourself again, where you could live a life different from the one you were slowly leaving, where your parents could forgive you for giving up on your life.

The engine was cut and large tires belonging to what looked like a 1940’s styled Jeep dug into the sand near your fingers. You removed your cheek from the desert sand, feeling some of the grains sticking to your cheeks as you squinted your eyes, placing your hand in front of you to shield your precious eyes from the blazing sun. The car door opened and the first thing your eyes saw were a pair of black combat boots that managed to slightly dig their way into the desert sand.

This was it. These were your last moments of life on this dreaded planet.

Please,” You rasped, coughing up some sand that managed to lodge itself in your wind pipe, thinking of how frail and pathetic you appeared to the person who stood before you. “Just kill me quickly.”

The person kneeled downwards, and the more you gazed at person, the more you learned that this was no rebel. This was a survivor. But were you going to be one too?

“The name is Jeon Jungkook, and no, I’m not with the rebels but am stationed in Safe House 9, candidate number 0970901.” Safe House 9? That’s where you were headed to. “Can you stand?”

You shook your head no. Jungkook chuckled to himself, amused by the stupid question he asked. He then scooped your feeble and delicate body off the sand bed, cradling you in his muscular arms as he stomped his way over towards the other side of the Jeep, placing you in the passenger’s seat before he shut the door, jogging to get into his side of the car and immediately started the engine, the engine roaring similar to a lion’s.

“If you can, you can reach for some of the water in the cubbyhole in front of you.” Jungkook briefed you as his eyes remained solely focused on the desert ahead.

You reached for the cubbyhole, opening the door and you almost started drooling at the sight of the sparkling water. You grabbed the bottle of water in an instant, gulping down the plain liquid goodness, unconscious of how Jungkook would steal glances at you and smile to himself.

“How long did you go without water?” Jungkook attempted to make conversation as he drove past points you remember marking as you travelled towards the safe house…in the opposite direction.

You wiped your dry lips with the back of your hand. “Three days,” You spoke with hesitation, not particularly used to interacting with others anymore. “Hey, isn’t the Safehouse in the other direction?”

“It is,” Jungkook nodded. “But, I still need to patrol the area to see if there is any others like yourself walking the dessert. As well as be kind of like, a lookout if you will, for rebels.”

It was silent after Jungkook had spoken, the man who you noted couldn’t be much older than you, most likely being two years older than you were if you were to guess with his young features and eyes that held the slightest shimmer of something rare in those days, hope. Jungkook patrolled the area, aware of how far he could drive out before he had to make his way back like he had been doing this all his life. Two hours of pure silence passed and Jungkook entered the new city you hadn’t visited before, only driving a short distance into the city before nearing a car park by the factory AKA Safe House, the space in which Jungkook parked the Jeep in shuffling a little bit before the ground it was parked on began to lower itself into the ground where a much more guarded car park was located.

As the car was brought to halt, Jungkook pressed down on a button on his car door and in a few seconds, young ladies dressed in nurse uniforms were rushing towards the Jeep, bringing along a stroller with them as you were helped out of the Jeep, your body laying helplessly in a stretcher that was surrounded by panicked nurses.

  “You’re going to take care of me, right?” You quizzed one of the nurses by your side as your eyes blinked rapidly underneath the bright lights attached to the ceiling.

One of them, with milk chocolate rich skin and an abundant amount of big curls, smiled behind her surgical mask, grabbing your hand and assuring you, “Absolutely.”

You smiled weakly before your eyelids felt heavy, your body falling limb and the frantic screams of nurses disappeared.

You woke up three days after your arrival, according to your doctor’s knowledge. Nothing was seriously wrong with you, it was just having to survive with minimal water and food to snack on, as well as walking the stormy desert in the blazing sun wasn’t exactly the greatest combination for your body, which explains why you blacked out.

Moreover, your doctor advised you to eat regularly, mostly foods belonging to the protein food group, so you can regain your strength and that he would provide you with prescription tablets that you could receive at a counter that was outside the dinning hall. Therefore, that day, after you took a warm shower in a small cubicle that had many other naked people of the same sex along it and put on a shirt with black sweatpants and a matching hoodie that were left on your single bed out of what you observed to be twenty beds in one space, you made your way to the medication counter.

  As you waited in the semi-long line, to keep yourself entertained, you settled for observing the people around you. Many people had a look of content in their eyes, but other people eyes, you noticed, shook with fear for the future, as you were. Still, you kept your expression light and unbothered, repeating to yourself hundred times over that everything was going to be okay.

Everything is going to be okay.

Once you collected your medication and swallowed the pills it in front of the nurse at the window, since the founders of the settlement were extremely strict with ensuring that whoever was injured or ill was consuming whatever could assist them, you walked into the dinning hall.

The dinning hall, you noticed, was similar to the one at your previous school. The food line where young adults such as yourself served food was near the door, on your right. On the left, was something like an area racked with sweet and salty treats while the rest of the space was filled with metal chairs and tables. Anxiousness coursed through your veins at the scene. You were new here, you knew no one here—


You knew him, all you had to do was locate wherever he sat, if he was here, and you would have someone to sit with. Even with the world slowly ripping itself to shreds, you still cared about what people thought of you and what would they think if the new edition to their Safehouse was some loner type person.

Again, you stood in a line and waited patiently to receive your dinner that night, which happened to be rice and mince, a chicken quarter with a side of vegetables. As you slowly left the line, retrieving a carton of milk for yourself, your eyes looked over the entire room, the buzzing conversations in the dinning hall only a murmur in your ears. Your eyes looked to the right, and low and behold, sat Jungkook. Alone. By himself.

You took hesitant steps towards the table he sat it, your skin suddenly feeling immensely uncomfortable as you could hear whispers about you and who you were. You tried to keep your eyes ahead of you, pretending as though you couldn’t hear every one of their conversations, for the sake of your own happiness.

You stood behind Jungkook, struggling to find your voice as your eyes watched the older boy eat what you saw was famous ramen that could undoubtably set your mouth and everything inside it on fire. Ultimately, since you were at a loss for words apparently, you cleared your voice, drawing attention to yourself as Jungkook turned around to face you with flushed cheeks filled with ramen.

“C-can I sit with you?” You stuttered, thankful that you didn't stumble over your words like you did when you were nervous.

Jungkook merely nodded, turning back around as you took your seat opposite him, poking your food with your utensils before digging in, never once glancing in Jungkook’s direction.

Until he slammed his fist against the table, the impact of his fist and the vibrations of the desk startling you as you jumped slightly in your seat, staring at the boy who was clearly suffering because of the extremely spicy ramen noodles he ate.

Fuck, that’s hot.” He cursed bluntly, helplessly reaching for his bottle of water and chugging it, only to still hiss because of his fire red tongue.

“Drink this,” You handed him your carton of milk. “It will help.” Jungkook didn’t question you as he ripped the carton open, chugging the dairy liquid and letting out a pleased sigh at the burning sensation that simmered down.

“Thanks,” He began handing the carton over to you, but you cut his action off with the words, “Keep it.”

“Ha, right.” Jungkook awkwardly responded with an even more awkward smile, drawing his hand back and scratching the back of his neck.

Despite the slight awkwardness that started to settle in the air, you felt bad for Jungkook because he wasn’t eating food that he could properly enjoy or that could make him full. Therefore, to make yourself feel a little better, you asked Jungkook, “Are you still hungry?" 

 Jungkook looked up at you at lightning speed, the sight of his deep brown doe eyes and watermelon pink cheeks cracking a smile onto the surface of your face. "If you are, we can share my food.”

“No, I’m okay, thanks.” Jungkook attempted to kindly refuse your offer, but was interrupted by the growl of his stomach which made you let out a single laugh.

You pushed your dish into the middle of the table, scooping up some rice mixed with mice and playfully teased, “It’s really good.”

  Now it was Jungkook’s turn to laugh. He looked over at you with an amused smile, watching you over-exaggerate as you ate your spoonful of food and groaned at how ‘good’ it tasted. Jungkook rolled his eyes, well aware that the food served here wasn’t that good since he’s been here long enough to know such things. Jungkook gave in when you held a piece of chicken in between your chop sticks, waving it around and unexpectedly, before you could put the chicken into your mouth, Jungkook leaned over the table and ate it, his unexpected actions widening your eyes.

Jungkook chuckled at your reaction as he chewed the piece of chicken, placing his hand over his mouth as he uttered out a, “You’re right. It does taste good.”

A geniune smile spread across your face, for the first time in weeks, and you shook your head while Jungkook just laughed at your behaviour like everything was alright and well with the world again, which it felt like in the presence of Jungkook.


Mind Your Speed by .Steve Case.
Via Flickr:
Radiator Springs Racers in Disneyland’s California Adventure

JD x Reader - Back Room (FLUFF)

Requested?: Yep, by @alpacaapprentice
WC: 1436
Summary: crappy JD fluff. It really is terrible!
Warnings: mention of slurs and bullying, gun mentioned, UNEDITED
(AN: this is terrible. I am so so sorry for butchering your request. But I hope you enjoy!)


Bored. If any words in the entire English language could be applied to you today, it would be bored. Your shift at the local 7/11 had ran as it usually did. The regulars would pop in before work to buy their regular things for the regular price and aside from that, nobody else would enter.

Admittedly, the idea of a weekend job was originally thrilling to you. But after spending Saturday upon Saturday behind the same dusty countertop, charging the same middle aged faces for the same orders… least to say, it was tiring.


The obnoxious trill of the bell above the door signalled you to the arrival of someone new. Casting your eyes up, you watch a as a boy of about your age swept across the linoleum isles. Clad in a long black trench coat and large black boots, he certainly wasn’t someone to forget. After a solid 5 minutes, the kid swivelled on his heels and began to march up to you.

Though you hated to accept it, he was attractive. His black hair fell messily over his eyes which shone with unreadable emotion and his angular features struck a tone of uniqueness to his face. A moment of silence passed as you caught yourself staring. A fiery blush crept up your neck as you stammered out “How can I help you?”

A cocky smirk tugged at his features as he watched you shift uncomfortably where you stood. He leant foreword, propping an elbow on the counter.
“Say, where does one find the slushee machine in the grand town of Ohio?”
“It’s, uh, in the back. Some kids were kicking it down so you have to ask for it now.” You reply, sheepishly. Something about his expression made you so shy.
“Well then.” He begins, shifting to lean closer to you. “One cherry slushee, please.”
You turn quickly, desperate to avoid his gaze. Somehow, you could physically feel his eyes bore into you as you walked to the tattered 'Staff Only’ door.

“Okay, (y/n), chill. He’s just a guy. You’re not gonna see him again. Just breathe. Keep it cool.” You repeat this to yourself quietly, cursing your awkwardness at the same time. You pull the stiff and rusty handle on the cherry valve and watch the thick red liquid pour in. Soon enough, your safe space was intruded by a stream of light. You whip your head around, loose (h/c) locks flying sporadically. There, leaning against the door frame, was the kid himself.

“You’re not supposed to be back here, you know?” You say, pointedly. Suddenly, a surge of confidence crashed over you like a tsunami. “I mean, I don’t even know your name!”
There was a jibe to it but the raven haired boy smiled devilishly. It was clear that you were flirting, even if you didn’t know it yourself.
“Well, I know yours. Does that count…” His eyes trail down your chest to the silver name tag clipped to your shirt. “(Y/n)?” He finishes.

The satisfied smile on his face is partially infuriating but you stick it out.
“This is a two player game, mr. How about your name for a slushee. On the house, of course.” You’re not totally sure of what you’re saying, if you’re honest. It was against store policy to give out free… anything!

A large smile grew on the boy’s face as his eyes flicked between yours and the cup in your hand.
“The name’s Jason Dean. Call me JD.” He replies.
'Is it possible for a name to be cute?’ You wonder to yourself. Your (e/c) orbs scanned his features curiously. As he reached forward to take the cup from your hands, you noticed his sleeve roll up. His pale arms were littered in angry red scars and deep purple bruises. A flash of concern passed over your face but you shook it off. It’s his business, after all. His cold hand rested atop your own for what seemed to be hours before he took the drink.

“So, (y/n), I thank you for the slushee. I’ll see you around.” With a wink of his eye, he struts away, leaving you blinking in shock.

What the hell just happened?


Going to school at Westerberg High was tiresome. The idea of cliques quite possibly originated from the damn place! The first half of the day had ran about as smoothly as it always did. You went to class as always, got slightly heckled by the jocks as always and were now sitting on a corner table of the cafeteria as always. It wasn’t that you didn’t have any friends but more that you preferred to keep to yourself. Plenty of people would talk to you, should you initiate conversation. It just seemed like a waste of energy.

You pulled out a notebook from your bag and set it on the table. You wouldn’t consider yourself a writer, so to speak. But disappearing into fiction was much easier than facing the glaring white reality. You had become so engrossed that you failed to notice the trench coat-clad boy sit next to you. It wasn’t until his large black boots slammed onto the table next to you that you even looked up.

A small squeak escaped your lips at the loud sound but you kept your head down. The two of you sat in silence, avoiding eye contact. It wasn’t as awkward as it sounded, despite how it may have looked. It was almost nice until…

“Hey!” A harsh voice ripped through the air like a bullet. “Aw, look at the freak table! It’s the loner and the f*g!” Being the only two people on the table, the immature insult hit its target spot on.
A brawny hand reached over and slammed your notebook shut with force. “I thought you needed friends to sit in here?” The voice mocked above you.
“Hey, Ram?” A second voice emerged over the white noise. “Doesn’t this cafeteria have a 'no f*gs allowed’ rule?”

Before Tweedle Dee could respond, a familiar drawl trailed from beside you. A comforting tone of confidence in his voice.
“They, uh, seem to have an open door policy for asshole though, don’t they?”


What happened next was a blur. Next thing you knew, you were sat on a field behind your house, dried blood surrounding your nose, school bag beside you. You’d been sent home due to 'injuries’ but your real concern was JD. You barely knew the kid and he had a gun at school but… you liked him. Something about his confidence and air of mystery was so intriguing.

“How does this keep happening, hm?” Your thoughts were interrupted. You turn, blinking in the sunlight, observing the tall figure that stood above you. As your eyes began to focus, you realised who it was.

“JD!” You exclaim, jumping to your feet. “You alright.?” Trying to mask your excitement and appear cool was much harder than it looked. For a while, he doesn’t reply.
A lump forms in your throat but you push it down forcefully. Looking at him now, he looks smaller somehow. The freckles that dusted his cheeks glinted in the sun and the shine on his hair formed an obscure halo. He was beautiful.

“You know, the extreme always seems to make an impression.” He states, not looking at you. “Did it work.?”

His question hangs in the air for a while, noticeably thickening it. Millions of answers race through your mind at intense speeds, making your brain spin. You had more options of answers than you did words in your vocabulary. Instead, you settled with “Yeah… Yeah it did.”

For a moment, he didn’t even flinch. It was as though your words caught the wind and never reached his ears. But before you could repeat yourself, a crooked smile twisted onto his features. A laugh, quiet but certain, escaped his lips. It was a moment of pure joy that seemed unfamiliar on his normally unreadable face. But, without realising, you found yourself laughing too.


The two of you sat, propped against a tree, in a comforting silence. Somehow, his arm had slipped around your shoulder. You had no recollection of when this happened but, for some reason, you didn’t mind. It was almost relaxing to feel him hold you.

“Well, (y/n), I think I know you pretty well by now…” He trailed off, leaving you partially confused. Although you couldn’t see his face, the smirk that was plastered to his face was cripplingly obvious. “Can I pour my own slushees now?”


Just wanted to let you all know - I’m sure I’m not the only one who has been getting inbox spam lately - starts with ‘hi’ or similar and if you reply you quickly end up with a request for photos or private chat. They have blogs with nothing on, fairly nondescript urls and a selfie of a young woman as their avatar.
I wanted to give my advice for younger/vulnerable people on here, so I hope you’ll forgive me sounding like your mum.
Here’s my suggestion, if you get a message from someone you don’t know and who isn’t following you, with an empty blog:
Don’t reply to the message.
Mark it as spam if you want to - I’ve started doing that.
Don’t ever send pictures of yourself.
Don’t feel pressured into chatting with someone you don’t know or sharing anything personal.
I have no clue what the gain is for people doing this but I guess they are hoping people will get talked into sharing images.
Stay safe. If you’re not sure something is a good idea, it probably isn’t - trust your instinct. If you feel uncomfortable, stop. Ask someone in real life that you trust - a parent, a responsible adult..
Look after yourselves and avoid nonsense.

Subconscious Movements

Pairing: Platonic!Reader x Avengers
Word Count: 1.6K
Warnings: None?

A/N: This is one contains some plot points from Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., so if you aren’t up to date, this might be a mild spoiler?? This is part 1 of 2
I don’t really love this one, but I can’t just scrap it, so here it is

Let me know what you think!
(Or request something!)

Leaning back in your chair you rub your burning eyes, you really needed to rest. You’d just finished the enormous stack of paperwork that had been piling up in your office for the past week. It had taken you the better part of a day, but you finally got through it. Working for S.H.I.E.L.D., or what was left of it, wasn’t easy. Not only were you a scientist for Coulson’s team, but you were also a field agent; meaning that you had to work twice as hard as FitzSimmons, or Daisy. You reach for your coffee mug, while keeping your stinging eyes closed. You can’t seem to find your mug, you had sworn it was just in front of you; then you feel it slide into your outstretched hand. Immediately sitting up, you stare at your steaming mug in disbelief. You had never used your powers subconsciously before. In fact, you hadn’t really used your powers much at all. You had gotten the power of telekinesis only last month; you’d taken a fish oil tablet, and next thing you knew you were engulfed by a stone cocoon. Ever since you discovered these powers you had made sure not to show them to anyone. You didn’t want anyone to think any less of you, as an agent, just because you now had this, so called, gift.

You hear someone clear their throat from your office doorway and lock eyes with Nick Fury, “well, that’s new…” he says, looking to the mug you’re still gripping. Your stomach drops when you realised he must’ve seen you use your powers. You immediately jump to try and explain,

“Sir, Director Fury, I-”

“I’m not the Director anymore, Agent Y/L/N,” he cuts you off, but you ignore him,

“I… um, well… please don’t tell anyone,” you look at him, desperation and worry flooding your face

“Why not?” he cocks an eyebrow, “Daisy can help you utilise it, and-”

“I don’t want to be part of the Inhuman Taskforce,” Fury looks quizzically at you, “with all due respect, Sir. I’d rather prove myself as a regular agent. I don’t use this…” you look down at your hands, “… ever. Especially not in the field.”

Fury takes a moment to process what you had said, then walks into your office, “Okay, Y/N, you want a chance to prove yourself? Here it is,” he throws a stack of manila folders onto your desk. They all had ‘TOP SECRET’ stamped on them, along with ‘THE AVENGERS INITIATIVE’, “I’m assigning you to the Avengers. You’re both a great field agent and a great scientist,”

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A/N: A little graphic if you’re squeamish, but there aren’t too many details. Not medically accurate, written for dramatic effect.

Why did you even agree to go on this ridiculous hike? Probably because you were more than two weeks past your due date. You had tried to bring your labour on by other means but none of them had worked. 

That morning, your darling husband - even if he is the one who did this to you! - suggested that a nice long walk might clear your mind and help speed things up. And sped things up, it had. You were halfway up a mountain when the cramps started and you turned back, but it seemed like your baby was in a sudden hurry. You hadn’t even walked ten steps when your waters had broken and a contraction hit.

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