my brain and my hand are crying

Dragons are British

So i think you might like to hear what draconic langue in my game so my two players that are dragon borns got in a cussing match but the actual players use British slang and gestures so now the draconic langue is now British insults and hand gestures

For example the two were fighting over how to fight a boss
Gold (in common) im tired of ur shit man
Silver(in common) yea but at least im using my brain
Our cleric starts to get uncomfortable and looks like they are gonna cry
Gold(in common) lets use our native tongue to finish this
Gold(in draconic) oi mate ya fukn wanker at lest shes not a gerbil and my father dosent smell of elderberrys (flips off silver)

Yea so this is what our game is now

be more chill but it's kidzbop pt 2

so it’s like…. sugar?
nah man you tell her that she excites you romantically
do you wanna hang but it’s hand holding
eminem’s stoPPED MAKING MUSIC?? (still alive tho)
jeremmmyy i like like you
let’s get inside those brains (with their consent of course)
jeremy my buddy how’s it hanging lunch is cool beans
jenna rolan said madeline told jake ‘i’ll only hold hands with you if you beat me at cards. and then she lost at cards dElIbErAtElY
everything about you makes me wanna cry
picked out a costume for tonight made sure to get a size that fit just right you can kinda see the zipper but i’ll act like i don’t know
got some chapstick and some juice i borrowed my older brother’s superhero suit dont have any powers but making sound effects will do

everybody’s got a fountain drink cup fill it up fill it up hear the sprite spill on the ground

My Princess

My Princess (m)

Word count: 3.8k

Genre: smut

I probably went a little too far with this, oh well. Although, this was probably one of my favorites i’ve written so far. Anyway, his was a request from an anon, hope you enjoy :)

Your boyfriend of one year, Jimin, decided for your anniversary he was going to take you to your favorite place, Disneyland. You two loved watching Disney movies together. You especially loved Beauty and the Beast and pretty much any princess movie. Jimin decide to even called you his princess. For your anniversary he made sure to get some time off so you two could spend a long weekend together.

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Just...hold your loved ones tonight.

Do it for me. I’m on call, so I can’t.

But when I see an elderly man sob quietly at his wife’s side, saying “please wake up”, when the husband in the room next door slides to the ground and says “she’s my entire world doc, please save her,” I cannot help but shed tears.

These events on a day when my team told a family that their 30 year old son would never wake up again after a drug binge, another family that their grandmother had invasive brain cancer, and finally another family that their patriarch’s cancer is terminal and compassionate extubation is the most humane option of medical treatment. My young woman, fighting off an incredibly rare and mysterious disease, is loosing her hair from chemotherapy. Her boyfriend combs what is left slowly and carefully, massages her hands, sings to her.

It is the tender, vulnerable moments of love and humanity in medicine that destroy me. Please hold your loved ones right. Tell your friends they mean something to you. Pet your cat or dog.

This call blows and all I can do is secretly cry in my call room and type notes, place orders, keep going.

Breaking out my baby

Imagine where the reader gets thrown in Arkham when Jerome is killed,since she was crying over his dead body and Jim saw this as an opportunity to arrest her.So when Jerome returns he goes to save her,finding her completely insane from being tortured


“No. Jerome please don’t leave me! No!” I sob over his body as blood pokes from his mouth and neck.

I’m numb to anything around me I don’t even notice Jim Gordon placing handcuffs on me and my hands behind my back. “(Y/n) (l/n) you’re under arrest.” I sob harder as they place me into the car and drive me to the station.

I don’t stop crying there. I never stopped. Not even they threw me in Arkham, strapped my to the bed, injected me with drugs, or fried my brains. I never stopped till one day where the screams turned into laughter.

I went from crying to laughing. Making a joke out of my pain. It’s an addiction I can’t stop. Laughter is…my escape. Laughter is my freedom.

I sit in my cell reading a book and sipping my coffee when a nurse comes in with a needle. “That time again? Oh alright then! Go ahead! Stickme baby!” I cackle and jump off the bed next to her holding out my arm.

She flinches as I get closer. “Ah you’re new! Well WELCOME! My name is (y/n)! Say…would you do me a favor?” She’s so taken over by fear she can’t move. “Awww honey! No need to be scared! What do you say you get me out of here and we can go shopping, get our nails done, maybe go get some sweets! Oh doesn’t that sound fun?!” I reach for the needle and snatch it from here quickly stabbing it into her neck.

She falls to the ground and I run out of the cell. I laugh as guards left and right race to get me. “YOU CAN’T CATCH ME!” I yell laughing. I turn the corner and see a door with a silver handle. “Oh shiny!” I grasp the handle hoping it would open the door but it doesn’t budge.

I turn around to see the guards with annoyed looks. I sigh and hold my wrists out. “Off to treatment we go.” They take me to the shock room where they strap me down and fry my brains, but honestly it makes me feel warm and fuzzy.

I cackle as my hairs stand up. “Come on Doc oh hit me one more time!” He rolls his eyes and turns the electricity up. “Crazy bitch.”

I was placed in solitary confinement, but I didn’t mind. They gave me paper and markers to keep my occupied, but as I was coloring a picture of a flower gunshots are heard and screams fill the air.

Jerome POV:

I shoot the guards as they run up to me. I hit one in the face with the butt of the gun and look down at him laughing. “Where is she?”

(Y/n) POV:

Move shots and screams continue through the entire asylum. I don’t think too much of it until I hear a laugh. A adorable laugh that I know matches a even more adorable smile.

I stand up and go to the door and look out the window seeing a smoked up hallway. The laugh gets closer and loud footsteps a sound. I start bouncing on the padded floor in excitement.

I’ve heard rumors about it. Villains being reborn, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up. I see a flash of red hair and bang on the door


He turns to look at me and smiles. He motions for me to back up and I do as told moving away from the door.

In seconds it’s blown open and I’m in his arms. I look up to see his face is lined in staples and he’s got a permanent smile scared into his skin. He moves my hair out of the way and looks at the scars on my body. “Oh doll what have they done to you?” I giggle and kiss him. “Nothing I couldn’t handle J. I’m free. Now let’s get out of here.”

We run down the hallways free, laughing, and shooting anything in sight. It’s good to be free.

Originally posted by mentalandtwisted

Originally posted by kittycheshirestuff


Originally posted by saywhatme

OneTwo | Three | Four

Pairing: Jungkook x reader [feat: Taehyung, Yoongi, and Namjoon]
Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut. Ability!AU Scifi!AU
Word Count: 5.9k

“what is it like to even be human?”

All Jungkook could remember were the events that was being unfolded right in front of him, everything else being untraceable. Being forced into a war he wasn’t even aware that was happening, being paired up with Taehyung and Yoongi during this ‘war’. They were pushed into this, being forced to kill the unknown enemy, relying on their so called abilities to keep them safe. Many questions were left unanswered, that was until he met you. More questions raised up, more confusion being added, and only a few things being answered. How can you tell the difference between human, and non-human?

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simon imagine - small world

REQUESTED:  ‘Can you do a Simon imagine where you dated before he start YouTube but broke up and were is first everything and the one he wanted to marry. He still in love with you. The other sidemen beside JJ don’t know about and when you guys see each other again you’re dating another sidemen please’


I knocked on the door of the large house. There were three cars parked out the front, almost symmetrical. The house was intimidating - it was clearly home to a few people, assumedly very rich people. The guy I was dating had assured me he didn’t live here - Harry, was his name. He had told me he was a youtube entertainer, and that this house was the home of his friends, that he stayed here before making announcements and filming videos. I agreed nonchalantly whilst he had explained this. But inside, the mention of Youtube made me want to run and hide. I had had experience with a Youtuber before - Simon, my first boyfriend - and the precious website had been the end all of what we had. Ever since I stayed away from it completely. I had been lucky in the sense I was dating Simon before he got too invested, and so I had no idea of where his success had taken him, or if he had been successful at all. This also meant I never received any social media attention at all, and the entire relationship stayed a simple secret. I hoped things with Harry would hopefully go the same way - although, without all the messy break up of course.

When the door opened I came face to face with Harry. Instantly I smiled as he welcomed me in with a warm embrace.

“Y/n, you came!”

“Of course,” I smiled.

“Well, we’re gonna film a bit later but for now we’re just chilling. Come through to the kitchen you can meet the others.”

He took my jacket before taking me through to the kitchen. I smiled politely as I was confronted by four guys, all sitting and standing round a kitchen table. Sat together were two of them, one of them slightly bigger than the rest and the other beholding a distinctive beard. Stood by the fridge was a slightly smaller Indian boy in khaki shorts and a pizza patterned hoodie. Then on the other side of the room, closer to me, stood the last man, a quite muscular and broad black guy wearing a snapback and a gold chain. The one with the beard spoke first.

“Hello, you must be Harry’s girlfriend! I’m Josh.”

He stood up to come and greet me, wrapping me in a formal hug. I smiled appreciatively into his shoulder.

“I’m Y/n.”

Two of the other boys greeted themselves as Ethan and Vik, before alerting me that the guy in the beast shirt, who had left shortly to take a phone call was called JJ. I recognised the rare name. Harry took a seat from around the kitchen table, pulling me down to sit on his lap. I smiled uncomfortably at the PDA.

“So Y/n,” Ethan addressed me. “Tell us a bit about yourself, what do you do for a living, where are you from?”

“Well, I’m from Watford but living in Stratford. I’m currently training as a probation officer.”

“Oh that sounds interesting, what does that entail?” Josh asked as all the other boys watched with intrigued eyes.

“Well I went to university in Watford and studied criminology for a few years, then eventually graduated and now I’m in first year of probation training. It’s gonna take a while to properly climb through the career but it’s something I’ve always been interested in.”

At this point JJ walked in. He patted my back slightly as he took a seat around the table, as if to make up for the lack of greeting earlier without interrupting my conversation. I appreciated this - although I couldn’t shake the feeling of deja vu I felt in his presence.

“Oh criminology?” The indian boy that I knew to be Vik spoke up. “I’ve heard that’s a lot of essay writing, isn’t that what Simon did before he dropped out?”


Josh, the beard guy seemed to notice my confusion.

“Our friend, Simon. He started out doing a criminology course but didn’t like the coursework content, so he dropped out and began youtube instead. He lives here actually, JJ where’s Simon?”

“I’m here why- Y/n?”

My heart stopped as a new boy entered the kitchen. His face seemed to pale as we made eye contact. Simon. Oh my God.

“Simon? You alright mate?” Josh asked, eyebrows furrowed in subtle confusion. “This is Y/n, Harry’s girlfriend - although it seems you already know her..?”

“We met in a club once,” He interrupted, not taking his eyes off me. “That’s it.”

“Really? She shares a lot of similarities with you actually, she grew up in Watford too.”

“Small world,” he muttered. 


An uncomfortable silence reasoned throughout the room for a second before the rest of the boys continued conversation, excluding me this time. My eyes remained on Simon. He had changed significantly since we had crossed paths for the last time about four years ago. He had grown, massively, now towering over everyone. His hair was a brave shade of red, longer than it was when he was younger. Even his eyes seemed to glow brighter. He was a whole new person. Eventually he broke the eye contact. 

“JJ, can you come up to my room please?”

The guy on my right looked up from his phone.

“Um yeah, sure?”

Both boys left, and I focused my attention to the kitchen island. Holy fucking shit. What a small world.


“Dude, that’s her.” I spoke quickly to JJ as I leant against my bedroom door. “It’s…Y/n.”

“Her? What Harry’s girlfriend, yeah I know she’s hot right?” 

“No, you fucking idiot. It’s Y/n. As in, my Y/n. Only girl I’ve ever loved, Y/n.”

JJ’s eyes widened. He put his phone in the pocket of his tracksuit bottoms, sitting down onto my bed. “Oh…shit, man. Dude, you did well. She’s hot.”

“Fuck off.” I spat at Jide, who held his hands up in defence. “Yeah, shit indeed. How the fuck has this happened? Why would she do this, she must know Harry and I are friends surely? We have a fucking book together.”

“Well, unless she’s been living under a rock, yeah.”

“Fuck, she looks good,” I sighed, sitting down next to Jide on my bed. “Better than before. She looks hotter, healthier…happier. She looks happier.”

“Dude, you have to do something. This can’t happen, Harry can’t just be parading her round here when you love her. It’s not fair.”

“What the fuck can I do? He has no idea, and she’s his now. I have no rights over her, she’s allowed to do whatever she wants. Oh God.”

As my eyes welled up slightly I put my head in my hands. 

“Fuck. Good point.” 

“I love her, JJ. I really fucking love her.”

“I know you do, Simon.” He rubbed my back in encouragement, which only made me want to cry more. “We’re gonna do something okay, we have to. Maybe you should talk to her?”

I shook my head in silence. A tear rolled down my cheek and landed on my carpet, out of Jide’s eyesight. What a fucking mess. I couldn’t get rid of the image in my brain - her tiny hands resting under her chin. The natural waves in her hair. Her glossy eyes looking into mine, the shock on her face. Even the way she sat on top of Harry. That image made my fists tighten.

“Out of all the girls Harry could have chosen…it just has to be her. I never ever mentioned her, never showed anyone any photos, never talked about her in a video. But he still ends up with her.”

“I know man,” JJ sighed, hand still on my back. “It’s a small, small world bro.”

note: i miss sasusaku everyday of my life

when sasuke returns from his voyage of redemption, sakura is nothing like he thought she’d be. she is distant and evasive. she seems jittery, he feels, perhaps because it has been five years since she hasn’t chased him. but he is optimistic, as much as he was ambitious, and sakura is his endgame.

when he finally asks naruto how sakura has been, after much deliberation, and because he could not ask sakura due to the strange nature of their communications, naruto replies: “she’s just not used to having you here like this.”

and he doesn’t understand, because hadn’t she greeted him with the same twelve year old enthusiasm when he left five years ago? wasn’t she blushing when he turned his back on her for the second time in their lives? he remembers leaving with his heart throbbing in his chest, vowing to organize himself until he could, with accuracy, return to konoha and ask sakura to–

somewhere in an unknown country, between the borders of this and that, sasuke had realized that he wanted to hear sakura’s voice. not only her voice, but touch her skin. he remembers her voice in the forest of death, on the night he left, and at the end of the war: they are delicate cries, and they pierce his heart. the hand that held his as he went through the worst pains of his life and the certainty of her presence had cemented him unconsciously to this particular path.

all this time he had thought she would follow in this path with him. he knows he never told her, that she does not know from his mouth that they would be together, but sakura has always understood him better than anybody else.

“sakura,” he calls as she walks home one night. his voice is not as rich; thinner than usual. it shakes.

she smiles at him, but it is not the same, it is not as bright. it shakes too.

sasuke thinks, this relationship is unstable. the instability was caused by me. and it is also up to me to fix it. but i dont know how, because sakura has always fixed everything with her optimism, but now it seems i am the only one with optimism. it makes sense, because i left her for five years and its been six months since i returned and she doesnt know that i cannot sleep because of her.

the resolution of their relationship becomes more urgent the more sasuke waits. yet the less he does. the less he knows what to do. he knows it is not hopeless, but it hangs in the back of his mind like the other phantoms that’s hung over his life.

he thinks, i just want to hear her voice. i dont want to hear her cry, because that’s all i have in my head, i just want her to tell me she loves me.

so he says, in his firmest tone, “i love you,” and he knows it is surprising but he cant stand it anymore so he takes her hand in his so that he could finally feel her touch, “i love you with all my heart and i want to make you happy.”

and he wants to repeat to her the same speech she gave him, the one he has burned in his brain and the one he replays when he feels as if the world has been unfair to him. it has not been, he is reminded, because it gave him haruno sakura.

there is silence, and he almost dies because he doesn’t think he can handle any more silence, but her fingers gently wrap around his hand, and she says: “thank you.”

like that, the balance in their relationship is restored, and the tension eases from his shoulders. she leans into his arms, without anymore hesitation, and she starts to cry. this is different, he thinks, she is not crying because i am leaving, but because i am staying.


Pairing: Jared x Reader

Word Count: 5.6k (haha whoops)

Warnings: Ridiculous amount of cussing (usual in my writings), OC’s, minor humour, size!kink, hip!kink, nail scratching, hair!kink, dirty talk, sweet, sweet passionate smut.

Summary: You win a competition to film on the set of Supernatural and meet your idols. During your first day on set, you notice not only that Jared Padalecki has been eyeing you, but discover the fandom’s biggest headcanon on him in the bedroom is true.

A/N: This is entirely written in first person BUT it is still technically a reader insert, just a different format. For the purpose of this fic, Jared is single. Obviously no hate on Gen, it is fiction for entertainment purposes only. This was written and posted within hours, so all grammatical and spelling errors are my own. I apologise if there is a slight switch between tense, I was tired and in a rush to get all my thoughts on screen and posted that I wasn’t too stressed. It’s fanfiction, it doesn’t have to be perfect. Anyway, please enjoy. Feedback is appreciated.

Originally posted by carryon--my--wayward--butt

Beep beep beep beep beep.

“For fuck sakes,” I groaned, slamming my forefinger on the ‘stop’ on my phone to silence the alarm. I closed my eyes for a few more seconds, already knowing my phone was about to buzz yet again with a second alarm. My sensible self knows how much I like to sleep in. My sleepy self wants to fucking punch my sensible self for being so… sensible.

After silencing the second alarm, I stretched and rubbed my eyes, already reaching back for my phone to browse my social media like I do every fucking morning because I like to ignore my daily responsibilities and shove my eyeballs onto a screen to pretend like my life is interesting.

I go through all of my notifications, none of them worth really looking at, and begin to scroll down my Facebook page. I stop suddenly when I see Jared Padalecki’s latest post, my eyes catching the photo of Jensen, Misha and himself holding up a sign that read ‘WE WANT YOU!’

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Okay, let me take a quick second to tell you about this thing called “having a panic attack” because some people obviously don’t get this. When I’m having a panic attack, DO NOT tell me to “just breath and calm down" or “You’re over reacting, please knock it off”. I swear to you, if it were that easy I would have done it already!

You know that feeling when you’re going down a long flight of stairs and you miss a step and your heart lurches? Or when you lean too far back in your chair and you almost fall? Or when you’re waiting for the doctor to come back in with your results and you know this could potentially change the course of your life? It’s like that for 20 minutes straight.

A panic attack is when my brain and my body think I’m in immediate danger and send unnecessary amounts of adrenaline through my body, making me hyper aware of everything around me. I CANNOT CONTROL THIS REACTION! When I’m panicking, it feels like I’m drowning and no matter how hard I try I can’t catch my breath. I feel like a house is sitting on my chest and making it nearly impossible for me to breath correctly. My hands and my feet go numb and I feel like I’m trapped in a body I have no control over. I hyperventilate and cry because that is the only way I can express all the anxiety inside of me.

Please for the love of God, don’t pretend like you know what this feels like unless you’ve actually experienced it. And please don’t make anyone feel more insignificant than they already do when they’re panicking. Be kind, be respectful, be understanding, be gentle. Please!

Not A Bad Thing ~ Part Eight

Originally posted by katherine8595


Fairy-tale & AU Series Index

Previous Part ||

Word Count: 3.4K

****Trigger Warning: Mentions of bullying and suicide****

Errors. Please excuse and ignore them.

***A/N: This chapter is SOOO SHORT. 

This is a FILLER chapter y’all. I don’t like how this chapter came out. lol I lowkey feel dead inside. Like a dead inside emotionless typing machine. :\

{Update days: Tuesdays, Thursday or Saturdays}


I sat there at the table with Y/N, who was teasing me. There was music blasting around us as the others celebrated, yet when I’m looking at her, it’s almost like the music was muffled. She has my full attention. Those deep eyes staring at me. The way her nose crinkles when she laughs, and how never fails to make my heart beat rapidly.

I took a deep breath, almost overwhelmed by the swelling of my heart.

“I don’t like crazy romantic stuff like that. I don’t want to be a damsel in distress that needs to be saved.” She said, raising an eyebrow at me.

I glanced down at my hand which held hers. I looked back up to see her gazing at me, waiting for a reply.

“If anything I’m the damsel,” I stated, “You saved me.”

I watched as she leaned away, almost cringing at my words. My eyes didn’t move from hers despite this.

“Why are you getting so intense all of a sudden?” She giggled. Though it’s been some months now, it still feels like I don’t know much about Y/N. The desire to be close to her is strong. When the pack goes for runs, she’s all that’s on my mind.

Yixing told me we should try to grow closer before mating season begins, or else things will become awkward.

I smirked before grabbing the bottom of the chair she sat in, sliding it closer to me so that we were close to each other. Y/N held in her laughter, clearly teasing me.

“You play around too much,” I whispered into her ear.

After winking at me she whispered, “What are you going to do about it, loverboy?”

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For Closure, Carl Grimes.

A/N: After all of the amazing feedback I got on my first Carl imagine I decided to write this one last week. It isn’t as log as the other one but is still pretty lengthy. I hope you guys like it as much as the last one.

Summary: The reader and Carl have been close ever since they were at the Prison and now are much older. Starting of in the middle of the Negan line-up scene, the two are sent through a roller-coaster of their own emotions. From being left devastated from the incident from the line-up and their fear of getting closer with one another this covers the vulnerabilities tied into caring about someone else in a world with such high stakes.

Word Count: 16,354

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Rescue •P7•

Avengers x Reader

Summary: reader is getting a tour of her new job at the Avengers tower, but happens to be the only one who notices an oncoming jet, about to crash into the building.

Word Count: 1781

Warnings: I don’t think any :))

A/N: this is a lot later than usual I’m so sorry, I had a lot of family and mental health things going on. But it’s here now. Sorry if it’s boring, just need some plot development. I present part seven 💛

“Okay, so this is plan for the next month or so.” Tony says, scrolling on his fancy tablet. I nod along at the plans he has prepared for me. After having a talk with him, telling him that I didn’t want to feel so useless, he quickly got me something to do.

When he swipes the tablet and it doesn’t move, he taps it violently. “Goddammit.” he says angrily. I frown. He grunts in frustration. I reach across the table and lightly lift the tablet from his hands, putting it down beside me. I tilt my head in question. He just looks at me with his jaw clenched.

“What’s wrong?” I prod. He sighs, trying to let off steam.

“What do you mean?” he tries to cover up. I give him a face.

“Considering you’re the person I’ve seen most often in the last three months other than Penny, I can tell when something is bugging you.” I say quietly. It doesn’t seem like my place, but I can’t help it. Tony has—is—taking such good care of me. I want to help him somehow. He runs a hand over his face. I haven’t missed the bags under his eyes, but I figured it was from staying up late working on some brand new technology. It’s seems like something he’d do.

“There’s…been a disturbance in my routine. And I know I’m supposed to do the right thing, but seriously, when have I ever been known to do that?”

“What’s this right thing you have to do?” I prop my chin on my fists, looking at him softly. Even Tony Stark has adversities. He purses his lips.

“Forgiveness.” he says quietly. I think before I respond.

“Forgiveness is complicated.” I draw circles on my dining table with my index finger. “I think it is the right thing to forgive someone. If what they did is forgivable. But…you can’t rush it, ‘cause then it’s not real. I think whoever you need to forgive should know that.” I say. “But I dunno. I don’t know that much about the situation.” I flick my eyes up to see Tony gazing at me with a small smile. My face grows red, thinking that maybe I had given bad advice. “What?” I ask. I mutter something to myself in my head in what I assume is Greek. I close my eyes for a moment, dismissing the foreign language. Tony notices this, but he’s grown accustomed to ignoring it, just like everyone else. He chuckles lightly, shaking his head.

“You’re somethin’ else.” he says, sliding the tablet back toward him. I smile small, looking down at my hands. It’s not everyday you get a compliment from Tony Stark.

I get news from staff saying that they hadn’t been prepared for the return of the Winter Soldier. He had been taken out of cryofreeze after his trigger words had been removed. There had been an unexpected breakthrough in their work. Because of this, he had taken up a living space on the seventeenth floor guest suites, away from the rest of the Avengers. Unfortunately for me, that’s the same floor I live on. I try not to pay it much mind, as the most often we’ll have to be around one another is to see the other in the halls. Besides, I have bigger things to worry about.

“Um…” I sigh, closing my eyes and trying to refresh my horrible memories. Dr. Simone pats my knee.

“First thing you think of.” he reminds. I scrunch my nose in focus.

“Cryofreeze.” I mumble. A little girl hums in my head. Stop, I plead with her. Instead of complying, she becomes louder. I physically shake my head, trying to loosen her hold. A new voice overlaps hers. Again, an accented man says. He doesn’t sound familiar, his voice gruff and angry. Again, he shouts. I shudder. Images of punches being thrown scurry around in my brain. The little girl begins to cry. No, I don’t want to, she says. I whimper, squeezing my stress ball until my hand hurts. So many voices. It hurts. The back of my eyelids go white for a moment, replaced by a large X engraved into a circle on a necklace. My heart jumps to my throat. My eyes snap open. Dr. Simone’s eyes are searching once again, but rather than trying to reappear, I get out of my seat in search for paper. Though it’s not the first time, it startles him nonetheless. He jumps at the notice that the notepad on his desk has flown into midair. I reach for a pen and quickly scribble the image on, not trusting my mind to remember it much longer.

As I finish the messy drawing, I know I’ve reappeared by the swirling feeling in my chest. I sit back down in my inclined chair, giving Dr. Simone an apologetic look before handing him the notepad. He eyes it in thought. He doesn’t recognize it, that much I know, but he looks at it anyway. An X engraved into a circle. How much he wishes he could know what it meant.

Tony analyzes the entire web for any sign of the symbol, but doesn’t come up with anything that relates to HYDRA or jogs my memory. I can tell he’s getting frustrated as each day passes. We aren’t any closer than when we started.

Luckily, he helps me keep busy. Everyday, I wake up at ten and have a quick meal. I go up to Tony’s more public labs, like the ones I was supposed to work in before all that happened, happened. His associates teach me. About their technology, about building equipment and robots and suits, about It’s fascinating. Not only does it keep me busy, but it makes me new. Sometimes, when memories that aren’t really mine swarm my head, I list off any facts I had learned. Blocking out haunting thoughts with matter-of-fact ones. Occasionally, I even work out. Not that I need to. My new body manages to keep fit on its own. But it helps me clear my mind. I focus on pushing myself until my lungs burn and my muscles are raw. It probably isn’t good for me, but not much is.

I jerk up in my bed, sweat sticking on my skin, tears poking my eyes. I squeeze my eyes shut, almost as a way of confirming I still can.

I’m in my kitchen, pulling on my trainers. Then, I’m in the gym, speeding on the treadmill, breathing like my life depends on it. Push, push, push. I urge myself on, beads of sweat dripping down my skin. I jump and nearly fall off the treadmill at the sound of a door slamming. Without stopping, I look over my shoulder to see who it and nearly fall off the treadmill again. I’ve never seen him before in my life, yet I know exactly who he is. The metal arm. The long, dark hair. The muscular build. I can see them all from across the gym as he faces the door, realizing there is someone in the room. I swallow and turn back to face in front of me. I let my eyes unfocus on the wall in front of me, trying to ignore the presence of the super soldier. It’s impossible to think that I was injected with the same serum he was. My mind flashes back, remembering the pain. I grimace, holding onto the sides of the treadmill to steady myself. Happy thoughts, I remind myself. But it’s too late. I try to reach for my watch that Tony issued to me, but the I’m still running and my hands are shaking. A phantom pain goes through my body like an electric shock, a little reminder of what I endured. I whimper, holding onto the bars of the treadmill, not daring to stop. Not for this. My stomach clenches, the same way it did all those months ago. The images roll in on the back of my eyelids. The twisted smile. The brick building. The X in the circle. The garbage bins. I shudder violently, trying to move my hands to activate my watch. But I’m numb. And this time, I do fall off the treadmill.

I barely notice when I reach the ground with a thud, all I can do is try to will away the crying little girl.

“Stop.” I whisper. A hand lands on my shoulder and I shriek. The hand flies back, followed by a yelp of surprise. I curl up into a little ball and breathe deep, still whispering unintelligibly. Stay grounded, I think. I look up around me, immediately met with a startled Winter Soldier, his marble blue eyes darting around the space. I realize I’ve gone invisible. The treadmill is making a little noise. I think. I smell rubber and sweat. There are yoga mats. Yellow and blue. I breathe deeply, trying to reach over to my watch. It makes a little beep as I slide my finger across it, requesting help. I look back up at the man in front of me. He looks right at me now in shock. He doesn’t know what I am. I look down, trying to keep myself calm long enough for help to arrive. His unease doesn’t help. I feel like a freak. Maybe I am one.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper. I close my eyes and swallow back the lump in my throat.

The gym doors open. I look to see two women approaching me quickly with reassuring smiles, dressed in their grey Stark Industries uniforms. My eyes can’t help but flick back up to the Winter Soldier, who looks at me in curiosity. I nearly sigh with relief that he no longer looks scared. His eyes meet mine for just a moment, and I see everything. I gasp, nearly falling back onto the floor. Images race through my brain, pain and war and torture and murder. So much. I slap a hand over my mouth as the two women help me to my feet. But I’m still looking at him. So much pain. My chest pierces. I let out a sob, seeing flashing memories, so vivid it’s like I’m living in each one of them. My left arm goes numb. My entire body turns cold as ice. My brain feels like it’s being fried. There’s a gun. A train. A river. My eyes spill tears onto my cheeks and onto the floor. My eyes are attacked by the torment of it all. My eyes roll to the back of my head as I go limp.

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anonymous asked:

FS+35) things you said that made me feel real, please and thanks! All the best for the move!

HI, this is late as usual, and with all this framework angst it spiraled from a short drabble, so you can read below or at AO3. And thank you! The move went okay and we’re finally settled in!

This is post-framework emotional hurt/comfort stuff. There is mention of AIDA and a brief discussion of that non-con, and I tried to be respectful but just a warning if that’s not your thing. Barely getting this out before the next episode makes my stuff non-canon lol.


As soon as she’s out of the Framework, Jemma throws up. The effects of being plugged-in and then removed less carefully than ideal causes her stomach to churn and gives her the world’s worst migraine.

She knows she and Daisy are getting off easy. The rest of the team had been rushed to medical before she’d fully regained consciousness and she can sense the fear radiating off of the other remaining agents like a tidal wave.

Jemma is torn between abject terror for the safety of her friends, bone-crushing relief that they’d succeeded after all, and a hollow rage that no one had thought to take her to Fitz before carting him away. As if they didn’t know the sight of him, alive and in the real world, was the only medicine she needed right now.

“Whoa,” Yoyo exclaims, as Jemma pushes herself out of the bed and promptly sinks to the floor. They’d tended to her leg while she’d been under, but it hasn’t healed completely and remains weak from disuse.

Yoyo wraps her arms around Jemma and hauls her back up. “You can’t do this. You need to be careful.”

Jemma shakes her head and then immediately stops as another wave of pain and nausea overwhelms her. “No, I need—”

She’s too weak to finish but Yoyo knows and gently perches Jemma back onto the bed. “Let me get a wheelchair.”

When she finally sees him, unconscious again as a cocktail of drugs floods his veins, she panics and can’t calm down until Yoyo helps her settle next to him in the bed. She places her hand over his heart, grounded by the steady beat and god, it’s true, he’s still alive in this world.

“See?” Yoyo says, brushing a comforting hand across her forehead. Jemma inhales deeply, pressing a gentle kiss to Fitz’s chest.

“I’ll be next door,” Yoyo murmurs, and Jemma nods. She knows Yoyo has her own heartache to tend to. She knows that these days will be about reassuring themselves and each other as best they can. When she hears the door shut she takes a moment, and then another, to breathe. Fitz smells different—more medicinal and sterilized—but underneath it all is the aroma of the same body wash he’s used since he was sixteen. Here, he is still the Fitz she’s always known.

Of everything, she chooses to focus her mind on that and finally lets herself relax into sleep.


Jemma wakes in confusion, water dripping down her face and causing her shirt to cling to her skin. She licks her bottom lip, tastes salt, and barely stops herself from screaming with the unfairness of it all. This wasn’t right. She had escaped. She had saved him, saved them both; how is it possible that the ocean came back to reclaim their bodies after all?

She tightens her arms around Fitz, determined to drag him to the surface again, as many times as it takes, forever, when she hears his shuddering breath and realizes he’s crying. She looks up at him, his face turned away from her and tears pooling into the dip of his clavicle, and wants nothing more than to hide him away from the world until she knows she can protect him.

“Fitz,” she says, reaching up and wiping a tear away with her thumb, and her gentle action causes the last of his restraint to break. He sobs and sobs until she wonders how he even has any water left in his body. He brings a hand up to hide his face and she curls around him, sliding a leg between his, slipping her arms underneath his shirt and wanting to cry with the sharp relief at finally feeling his skin against hers.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, even though she knows it’s not really. But he’s here with her now, and wasn’t that all she’d wanted? Perhaps she should have wished for a better artificial world so that waking him up would only mean tending to physical trauma. But she hadn’t known and had received only what she’d begged from the universe and so: “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re safe, we’re going to be okay.”

He doesn’t speak and she worries that the price for his appearance in her world has been his voice, that AIDA like a cartoon villain has stolen it in exchange for his freedom.

“Oh, Fitz,” she murmurs, kissing his cheek and his neck and finally resting her lips against the pattering of his pulse, somehow stronger than anything else in the room. There is so much to say, and she finds that she can’t say any of it.


Keep reading

I wanna date someone that...

 -Makes me want to pin them up against a wall and kiss tf outta them, but also someone that just down with me like rubbing their hand while I hold it, because I just fucking crave your touch that much

-Will listening to me rant about feelings that I don’t even understand, and hugs when when I’m losing my shit and crying so fucking hard that I can’t breathe, and just supports me

-Makes me want to look at them for hours, so that I can remember details of their face, and their laugh, and all the other cute things about them

-Is intellectual. Stimulate my brain, talk about life and the things that you never really understood

-Won’t runaway because I’m difficult, or just because

-Is 100% down for me and I’m 100% down for them 

Plus Sized - Nick Robinson

“Can you do a Nick imagine where the reader is plus size and she is very insecure about, to the point where she doesn’t even want him to hold her at night”

Whitened knuckles gripped tightly at the sink as I stared at my own tired reflection. My eyes were bloodshot red and face was flushed pink from my previous crying spree, why was I like this?

I let go of the sink, hands going down to pinch the skin on my soft thighs. I glared down at the pair, why can’t they be smaller?

There was no doubt I was insecure about the way I looked, I had seen the models and stick thin women Nick had worked with, their looks being not so similar to my own. Letting go of my thick thighs I forced myself to look in the mirror, the vicious thoughts and opinions already running wild around my brain.

People often told me that I was fine the way I was and that I should be happy with myself. I wanted so hard to believe that was true and finally be able to smile at my own reflection; yet here i was, angrily hating on myself for the extra weight I carried. Plus size, a phrase that was loosely thrown around when the tabloids talked about Nicks Girlfriend, me. Did it really matter?

How could Nick love me when i didn’t even love myself?

Shaking my head I brushed out my creased bed top and switched off the light before exiting the small bathroom. My feet padded softly on the wooden floor of my apartment as I traveled down the hall, heavy thoughts in my head.

My stomachs churned nervously as I reached the door of our bedroom, I felt sick at the thought of another night of Nick trying to be close to me again.

It sounds silly doesn’t it? You don’t want your boyfriend near you? Stupid! Only that wasn’t it. I was afraid, I always had been. I hated when Nick tried to hold Me, how would he react to the feeling of my squishy body as he tried to hold me close? Exactly. I hated being insecure enough to not want my own boyfriend to touch me in fear of him being disgusted. It Sucks.

I opened the door softly, entering the dimly lit room. I immediately spotted the boy in question inside the large bed, chest bare and dark hair messy as he peered at the small screen in his large hands.

I crawled in next to him, careful not to get too close before laying down and pulling the covers up to my chest, facing Nick.

He put down his phone and lay down too, turning the lights off before doing so. He gripped my hand in his own and began to play with my fingers, I pulled them away and laughed nervously before turning over and shutting my eyes. Please just go to sleep.

I felt him move closer, my heart hammering in my chest as he did so, insecurity being at its highest as he laced an arm around my waist and snuggled into me. I should enjoy it, I want to enjoy it! I just- ugh!

I shifted my body away slightly and squeezed my eyes tightly shut praying for this awful feeling to disappear. The lamp on the bedside table switched on and Nick sat up abruptly.

“Y/N” his voice was concerned, but I kept my eyes shut, willing myself to sleep.

“Y/N please” his hands gripped my shoulders and turned me towards him,his handsome face illuminated by the lamp glow ; eyes glistening with worry.

“Have I done something wrong?” He sounded hurt, the tone breaking my heart in half as he stared at me. I couldn’t let him think it was him.

“It’s nothing Nick honest-” I tried

“Nothing? Every time I come close to you, you move away like I’ve got some kind of disease! What’s going on y/n!?” The volume increased as he used his hands to show the distance between us in the bed.

“It’s stupid honestly, let’s just go to sleep” I didn’t want him to think I was pathetic, he didn’t need to know the dangerous dark thoughts that were trapped in my mind.

“No. You’re going to tell me what’s wrong” he gripped my chin in his long fingers, my bare face now being level with his own as he searched my eyes for any sign of explanation.

“It’s not you” my voice was weak as I started, a large knot forming in my stomach. “I hate being like this, i’m so sorry” my eyes stung with tears but I wouldn’t cry.

“Y/N what are you talking about?” He was now sat in front of me, his long figure slouched but still looking better than ever. I tugged nervously at my own shirt, scared it was clinging to all the wrong places.

“It’s not you okay? I don’t like you touching me because of the way my body is. I don’t want you to be disgusted or put off” I avoided his eyes, wincing as he took in a sharp breath.

“The way your body is? What the hell is that supposed to mean!?” He seemed angry, and I was really clueless as to why.

“I’m not as skinny as other girls you dated and I just- I’m plus sized. I don’t like the feel of my body or the way I look okay? I don’t want you feeling all of my chub and rolls and stuff I just-” I was cut off when Nick put his large hand over my mouth. My eyes widened at the action, words no longer flowing out of my mouth.

“Shut up” sorry, what? “I hate hearing you talk about yourself like this. Rolls?Chub? Seriously y/n” he moved his hand and gripped both of mine in his own, I stayed silent once again.

“You have none of those things, and even if you did, it would not matter one bit. I love YOU and your body does not affect my decision on that what so ever. You’re absolutely beautiful and I wouldn’t want you any other way” a smile tugged at my lips but I still felt a slight nagging in the pit of my belly.

“But-” I was cut off once again.

“And I would NEVER be disgusted by you. It hurts me that you think I would even care about the stupidest thing like weight or the way you feel when I touch you. I love the way you look and how you feel, you give the best cuddles and I want more of them, so stop hating on your beautiful self. Size is not important!” He pinched my pink cheek slightly and gave me a full blown smile. His eyes looked tired but they still shone with happiness as he glanced at me.

I nodded, my chest feeling warm as he smiled down at me. He made me feel more beautiful than anyone had in a while.

“I love you” the words slipped out of my mouth followed by a genuine smile, his own smile widening as I tugged him back into the bed.

This time when his arms encircled me and pulled me into him, I didn’t move away. It felt different and although I still drowned in worry about how he felt about it I ignored the nagging feeling and leant into him. I could finally begin the journey to loving myself with the help of my brilliant boyfriend.


Okay so, I loved this request very much and it hit home for me. I myself am not the skinniest person and I feel as though this imagine included a lot of my own thoughts and feelings about it. I wanted to add a note on this end of this imagine to say that this imagine is not intended to offend or upset anyone.
The views are something I wrote from what I know and I also know that some people do not share the same views about being plus sized or about other sizes of bodies.
I do not at all have anything against those people who are skinny or not plus sized, everyone is different and I know everyone can finds it equally as hard to love themselves or be happy with their body, no matter what they look like.
That leads on to my next point, every one of you is absolutely beautiful, regardless of size. Size is something that does not matter and I wanted to make a point of that. It’s such a hard thing to love your body and be happy in your own skin and I know a lot of people are fighting their own battles with this issue, I’ve been there too. No one in this world is the same and I think it is so important to concentrate and love yourself before you care too much about what other people look like.
You’re a bit heavier than that girl over there? Cool! That girl over there carries a little bit more weight than you? That’s cool too! Everyone is great in their own way and size and Weight does not affect that at all.
Be happy with who you are because you only get to live this life once and do you really want to waste it being unhappy and living up to stupid people’s opinions and expectations?

Lastly, if anyone has any questions or thoughts, my box is ALWAYS open. If you’re ever feeling shitty or needing someone to talk to,I am always here and happy to talk. Or even if you just want to chat and make a friend, I’m down for that too! Love you all v v much, I hope you enjoy this imagine:)

anonymous asked:

What would be a valid thing to submit as evidence for adhd? I feel like my teachers never noticed anything, all it ever says on my report is 'quiet', and im in the uk and you need school reports for diagnosis, and i feel like i wont be taken seriously cos they dont say 'bouncing off the walls' or something

I feel you, nonny. I wasn’t diagnosed until college because I was just “quiet.”

Odds are, if a lot of the symptoms add up enough to make you SUSPECT you have ADHD, you probably have it. But more research is always good!

So like many things, ADHD is a spectrum. The two ends of it are Inattentive to Hyperactive- and then you have people like me, in the middle, with the Combined version. Some people have more Inattentive than Hyperactive, some have more Hyperactive than Inattentive. Everyone who has ADHD experiences the symptoms a little differently.

You can find about six thousand symptoms lists online, but here I’ll tell you things that usually don’t end up on those lists that my therapist told me a lot of her patients ended up experiencing aside from listed symptoms.

(Note: Initially I tried to keep these short. Yeah, that didn’t work. I bolded the important parts.)

1. Insomnia, or at least a super screwy sleep schedule. No joke, this can be super detrimental and will only serve to exacerbate your symptoms. “Just set a sleep schedule!! You’ll feel better!” they all say- Thanks Barbara if I had any control over when my brain chooses to sleep at all I wouldn’t have this issue, ok?

-a solution to this is to, in all actuality, condition yourself. Start ONLY using your bed for sleep. Get a little chair or something in your room if you’re also a hermit like I was growing up (mushroom chairs are gr9) and once you get out of bed, don’t let yourself get back on it for more than a few minutes unless you’re going to sleep.

Some nights it’s not enough, but in general for me personally this has been an actual lifesaver- I can go from being not tired to exhausted at the drop of a hat in normal life anyway (another symptom they don’t usually tell you about) so it’s nice to be able to make it work for me for once- I get into bed, maybe spend 30 minutes restless and then I’m out.

2. On the subject of sleep. You kids ever heard of the sleep of the dead? Because guess what, I have ignored literal fire alarms in dorms because of it. About 1-2 hours into my sleep I enter a state akin to a bear hibernating. I have slept through wake-up alarms, slept through emergency alerts, slept through FIRE alarms, slept though friends and family attempting to wake me… you get the picture.

3. On the note of the hibernating bear. You constantly wake up angry (or at least disgruntled) at the universe and take a really, really long time to power on. No, I’m not talking “a case of the mornings.” I’m talking it takes me until noon some days to actually feel somewhat alert. I’m talking feeling nothing but seething rage at anyone who tries to engage you in higher brain function before you’re fully awake.
-the seething rage is more personal to me, but, every single last one of my friends who’s ADHD has issues getting up in the morning. There’s hating mornings, and then there’s hating mornings.

4. About mornings. You’re constantly late to anything in the morning because you just couldn’t “get going.” i.e., you knew and 100% wanted to get up and get moving but your brain said “nah, let’s just sit here on tumblr mobile for a while k?”
-it’s very difficult to describe this part of executive dysfunction with words, because it comes off as laziness to a lot of neurotypicals. It’s not laziness. It’s having the motivation and and will and the drive to do something and not forgetting about it and it still doesn’t get done.

“Why didn’t you do x?” they’ll ask. And you just sit there thinking shit, you meant to, really, honest to god meant to, it was on your brain to do and yet all you could actually do that day was sit around and watch terrible TV. And then you feel terrible because YOU think you’re lazy.
It’s not laziness. It’s executive dysfunction.

5. Another not so well known EXDYF fact: Mental math or memorization for you will always be the literal bane of your existence. Teachers always told me I was a “smart kid” in school (I am, but not the point) and then they’d wonder why I couldn’t memorize a five line poem.

Or I’d start off with a 60 on a math test, until my teacher would comb through my work by hand (only useful math teacher I ever had in high school tbh) and I’d end up with a 92 because nearly all of my mistakes involved basic arithmetic errors. Even though I was able to use a calculator on the test.

(One time I decided 21-19=14. To this day 8 years later I still do not know from what abyss my brain pulled that info from.)

“You’re smart! Just focus!” I can’t choose what my brain decides to focus on that easily, Sharon, not without a lot of crying and panicking.

6. But wait! You say. I have really obscure information from a fandom that I can infodump on someone at a moment’s notice! Surely that means I’m just Lazy and Unmotivated, right? I guess I just can’t be bothered to memorize the important stuff.

*Loud buzzer noise* Stop right there. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.

I will take you by the shoulders and look deep into your eyes and make you realize that guess what? If you have an ADHD brain, you have NO control over telling your brain what is important and what is not. Zero. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Your brain decides, and you usually get no say in the matter.

This sounds bad, I know. And in terms of school, birthdays, appointments, it’s terrible. But you’re not helpless. It sounds trite, but, get a good goddamn calendar app on your phone and use the hell out of it for appointments and birthdays. And for school? Find those fandoms and use mnemonics. No, seriously.

7. Also on school: You procrastinate the hell out of everything. And I’m not talking normal “haha I’ll do it later!” procrastination. I’m talking serious, problematic, REPEATED “why the fuck can’t I just do it on time like a normal person” procrastination where you start blaming yourself for not doing it sooner like a neurotypical.

Listen, buddy ol’ pal (or however that goes), you’re not neurotypical. But listen- there’s actually a medical reason why you do this.

So everyone’s brains have reward systems, right? Your brain gives you the feel good when you do something you think you should. And later, a brain remembers that it got the feel good for doing the thingy thing.

In a brain with ADHD, that reward system malfunctions. Sometimes critically. Your brain chucks so much stuff it deems “unnecessary” out the window it chucked out that feel good you got when you turned in that homework on time, or cleaned out your car, or did some pilates for 30 minutes.

8. You want to know what doesn’t help with number 7 there? Another thing that won’t show up on symptom lists but that virtually everyone I know with ADHD (quite a few, actually. Turns out we hang out in packs because we’re usually the only people who can understand each other) about ADHD is how daunting large tasks or projects seem to an ADHDer.

So listen, more medical talk here. Remember that EXDYF thing? Yeah, this is part of that.

EXDYF makes it very, very hard (almost impossible, sometimes) to break down large tasks into smaller, more feasible tasks. You get nervous the longer you put off that paper (“this isn’t something you can spit out overnight!”) You’ve been sitting in front of your computer for hours, and the only word you have written down is “The”.

Honestly, I’m not sure why it’s actually super hard to break down large undertakings into smaller tasks for the ADHD brain. But! Solution.

-if you’re having a problem breaking down ANY sort of task, I promise there’s someone else who’s done it online.

Need to write a paper? Use a template. Need to clean out your car? Find a checklist, or have a friend make you one (cause Lord knows I can’t make one on my own). Need to make a presentation? Find a sample one online. Hell, this even works for taxes. (Gasp!)

Do NOT be afraid to ask for help with even personal large undertakings. If your friends are actually your friends, then they’ll relish the chance. Especially when you can turn around and blaze through a quarter of the important project you two (or however many) have due next week in four hours because of hyperfocus.

9. So, your focus. Totally trash, right? That is, until you hyperfocus.

Hyperfocus, to a neurotypical, probably sounds great. Tune out all distractions and get shit done, right?

Sure, Linda, if you can call being able to ignore things like the need to sleep, eat, and use the bathroom “tuning out distractions.” Time becomes a literal illusion. And damn do you pay for it later by your brain not wanting to do anything at all.

On the flip side, this is why ADHD people make fantastic emergency workers like EMTs and firepeople. If you learn what to do with adrenaline when you start feeling it, you feel like you could punch Satan himself when you’re riding an adrenaline+hyperfocus high. Combine that with the fast-paced, unexpected nature of such jobs and and you have a happy ADHD brain because it’s never bored.

10. Because boredom feels like death. No, Cheryl, I’m not being overdramatic. Yes, Becky, I recognize everyone has to deal with boredom.

A neurotypical’s boredom and an ADHDer’s boredom are two very different levels of boredom. Ever heard the phrase “bored to tears”? Now imagine every time you get even a little bored, it’s like this.

And of course, the ADHD hell brain remembers the bad feels of being bored but can’t recall how nice it was to remember all of the answers on a quiz that one time you paid attention in class.

This is why I have the worst problems doing homework and housework, or in general anything with serious repetition (exercise, cooking, driving, tidying up etc.). I can do it for maybe 10-15 minutes, and then my brain’s like “k I’m good. Next source of input please?” like, brain, I’m only like 3 feet into washing the kitchen floor. P l s.

11. Speaking of tears. Has rejection by someone you value ever felt like you wanted to quit existing on the spot, or at the very least wanted to move to an ice cave in Greenland and cry for the rest of your life? Even if the rejection was just perceived rejection and your friend was just expressing grumpiness at something else?

Even if your logic says “they didn’t reject you calm down you’re overreacting?”

Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. It’s a newer term, but honestly, once I found out about my own ADHD and this bitch of a symptom a loooooooot of my weird habits started making a lot of sense in my head.

It doesn’t have to be actual “rejection”. It can get set off from stuff like awkwardness (hence my personal resistance to making Adult Phone Calls) to disbelief (a huge, huge reason so many people go undiagnosed), to personal judgment and/or criticisms (oh, ok… I guess I’ll never mention my love for X ever again) to even just indifference (no one noticed I mopped all the floors in the house… guess I’ll just go die!).

Basically, if you perceive that someone you care about has dismissed you in some fashion, you literally just want to quit existing. On the spot. Because the feeling of it makes you feel sick, your chest gets tight, you can feel it in your hands, and it makes the rest of your day miserable.
This variant is more likely with people you care about, but can definitely 100% happen with strangers too.

Another variant is this: if you perceive that someone (whether you care about them or not) has dismissed you in some fashion, your first instinct is to attempt to disregard and discard them completely. It usually doesn’t work like you want it to.

I’m pretty sure this is another reason why ADHD people hang out in packs. We always have a line in our head we’re terrified to cross with our friends. It makes us seem like we’re emotionally unavailable- but in reality we’re just terrified of being dismissed by our friends for showing our true geeky, infodumping, hyperfixating selves.

(Listen. If a friend mocks you for your true self they weren’t your friend in the first place.)

12. But in terms of crossing that line… Social cues? What are social cues?

Normal people can infer a lot from body language. With a lot of ADHD people, we tend not to notice. Or we notice too much and overanalyze. There’s no in between.

On a side note, your best bet for flirting successfully with an ADHDer is to just come out and say it. (Talk like an elcor. “Flirtatiously: I want to hear more.” or whatever innocent phrase it is you’re using to flirt. If they’re into Mass Effect, this will make them laugh, which means bonus points for you in their eyes.)
But seriously, unless you’re making obviously romantic overtures we’re usually pretty sure you’re just being nice.

Back on topic: lack of social ability is a massive, massive reason people with ADHD are usually bullied growing up. If there aren’t any other ADHD people around, it usually feels like no one “gets” you. I was bullied horribly enough during junior high and high school to the point where I still have to repress the urge to automatically assume someone being nice to me means they’re plotting something behind my back. (Didn’t help that my hs was basically the Korriban Sith academy without most of the death. Culty, religious, nepotism ran rampant.)

13. Woe betide thee who angers the ADHD. It’s not a problem with everyone, but… We’re like volcanoes. Awe-inspiring to watch in action, but God help you if we explode in your direction. And if it’s righteous anger there is almost literally no stopping us.

Anger has its uses. Our problem is that, like a volcano, we always have a lot simmering under the surface. We tend to hold onto it for ridiculous amounts of time until one day, boom. Yeah, I know, Kathy, that happens with everyone. Delayed gratification and all. The difference with ADHDers is that we usually don’t wait.

ADHDers’ anger will come out initially, because we can’t suppress it. We’re impulsive as fuck. We don’t think before we leap (our brains probably wouldn’t let us anyway). And it will seem like we are flying off the handle for no reason whatsoever. But we also have a tendency to unhealthily hold onto it afterwards even once the initial burst has happened. It’s like a (bad!) positive feedback loop.

14. Gotta bounce the leg. Gotta rock. Gotta fidget. Shit, I’m sorry, were you talking?

So one time I made it through 40 minutes of a math class actively suppressing the urge to bounce my leg… and then my leg twitched of its own accord. Freaky as shit, 0/10 recommend.

Sitting still is physically impossible for me, and for a lot of ADHDers.
Lack of impulse control + lack of social cue knowledge + lack of ability to decide what’s important to our brains = Fidget fidget. Fidget fidget. Twitch. Fiddle with paper. Hey, my backpack has a fun texture by the zipper. Oh my God, that lady on the TV is wearing the best shade of blue ever! I wonder where she got it. Shit, I need to go shopping. Wait, why did I need to go shopping again?

“Hey I asked you what you got for number 7.”


15. Depressive episodes. For me, these usually happen after a major hyperfocus where I taxed my brain for all it was worth, especially for long periods of time.

If it lasts for a long time or starts seriously affecting your life, get it checked out. If your doctor gives a damn they’ll be happy you came in to get it checked, even if it was the wrong diagnosis, because if it had been then at least they were there to help you. And they’ll always be happy to sit down and figure out what’s wrong. I know they have to watch out for hypochondriacs and whatnot. But if a doctor really cares about helping people they’ll listen when you say something’s wrong, because they know that you’re the one in your skin, not them. Which means if you really think something might be wrong, something probably is.

More evidence: justexecutivedysfunctionthings here on tumblr. Contains people’s experiences with EXDYF, which is a huge red flag for ADHD.

The Wikipedia article on the subject. There’s a nicely organized chart. (Or at least there was when I looked at it.) Remember, you don’t have to identify with all of the symptoms to be ADHD. Even if you only identify with a few, if they’re significant enough that they are seriously impacting your life and existence, it’s worth getting checked out.

I may add more to this later/change some stuff as my memory allows.

Transfer: a Fred Weasley x Reader Imagine

Requested: yes

*I want to apologize in advance for any grammatical errors I may not have caught, punctuation (specifically commas) are my nightmare.*

In this imagine a student from the American Wizarding school, Ilvermorny, is thrust into the world of Hogwarts when her father receives a relocation. At Hogwarts, the reader is sorted into Ravenclaw and struggles to find her place. She does discover unlikely friends in her Charms class, and after a risky move strikes a deal that will make the new acquaintances inseparable. All the while Fred grows increasingly important in the reader’s heart, but is it meant to last?

[Y/n] - your name
Y/L/N - your last name
Y/N/N - your nickname
~~~ - indicates the passage of time.

Warnings: minor swearing (it’s literally one word)

Word count: 3,419


The worst part about being a witch with muggle parents, is that the problems of both worlds apply. Ilvermorny had been my home for three years, at least until my dad, a soldier for the U.S. military was restationed in the U.K., bringing the entire family with him. My parents seemed to believe that my education would be untouched by this move, or that maybe I could return to ‘regular’ school here. Luckily I’d heard about Hogwarts and shortly after moving into our new home I received an acceptance letter of transfer.

Standing here in the upper-level dormitories of Ravenclaw Tower, I can’t shake the feeling of homesickness I have for my old school. The few times I’ve left this tower have been for meals in the Great Hall, a room ringing with laughter and carefree conversations, the occasional whisper (presumably about me), and the occasional explosion from the Gryffindor table as some clumsy boy continuously fails at executing some spell. I’ve been focused on my studies since arriving, as the transfer left a gap, but Professor Flitwick, my head-of-house believes that I’ve caught up enough to attend regular classes. The very thought makes my stomach turn, but I suppose it would be good to make some friends.

I grab the stack of textbooks from my bed and head down the stone steps to attend my first class, Charms. The classroom is medium sized and arranged with tables and waist high walls around the outside, similar to a jury-box back home. Flitwick gestures to one of the unoccupied seats. I slide into the chair thankful that he did not feel the need to introduce me to the class. As I wait on class to begin, I pull out a worn leather journal and begin to document my surroundings.

“George!” I nearly jump out of my skin as a red-headed Gryffindor yells across the room, sliding swiftly over the table and into his seat beside me. His twin brother, at least that’s what I can assume, flashes him an award winning smile and an over exuberant thumbs up. The rest of the class files in shortly behind these two, and Flitwick begins his lesson.

The ginger who startled me is drumming away at the table top and looks at me almost as if he is surprised to see the seat occupied. His honey-brown eyes scan me quickly. Seeming to have completed his assessment, he goes back to drumming but this time on his books.

My quill’s scratching of notes on parchment is stopped by a folded paper forced between the two. Shooting an anxious glance at Flitwick, who is currently instructing a Hufflepuff on how to properly 'swish’ her wand, I open the note.

“Ravenclaw?” The handwriting is rough. I find the Gryffindor boy awaiting an answer.

“Yes.” I pass it back.

“Welcome to Hogwarts. New?”

“Yes and thanks.”

“Name?” He passes the paper back expectantly.

“[Y/n]” I shove the note back growing slightly frustrated. This is class, and Professor Flitwick could turn around any moment.

“Fred.” He writes back with a smile. I glance up to see George beaming and Professor Flitwick scowling in front of me. Fuming, he confiscates the note much to my classmates’ amusement. He seems more disappointed than angry, which somehow hurts worse. My face burns in shame, but Fred seems unphased.

“Now class,” Flitwick’s high pitched voice fills the room. “I hope you all have been paying attention, as we will now be having a quiz on what we have learned today.” Oh no. “Please take out a fresh piece of parchment and black ink. We will begin shortly, after the tables have been cleared.”

Flitwick writes question after question on an old blackboard. Much to my surprise the answers are fairly simple. As I glance around the room, I notice Fred struggling. His quill falls to the floor beside me, he coughs as he picks it up, “help.” Without knowing why, I copy a few answers onto an extra piece of parchment and drop it onto the floor with my quill when I get up to turn in my assessment. Flitwick watches as Fred places the quill on the table, and I hand him my paper, the weight of guilt like stone in the pit of my stomach. What I have just done goes against all logic and morals I have. It carries the additional weight of expulsion if found out. By the time I sit down, Fred has pocketed the answers and minutes later turns his test in with a grateful nod in my direction.

When class is dismissed, the Professor asks me to stay behind. My heart is hammering in my chest. Why did I help that boy?

“Miss Y/L/N?” I feel like I may throw up.

“Yes Professor Flitwick?” My blood is rushing to my ears.

“I wanted to see how you were acclimating.” He looks at me with a hint of concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Y-yes sir. I’m just a bit nervous moving and all. People have never really been my strong point.”

“Ahh, understandable. Well I will not keep you any longer. If you need anything, and I mean anything at all, feel free to drop by my office. As head of the Ravenclaw house it is my duty to make this transition as painless as possible.”

“Thank you Professor,” my lungs fill with air, the weight lifted.

“And do be careful with that Weasley boy; I know it was just an introduction, but he is often in trouble with Severus Snape. You need not be caught up in that mess. Good day,” the tiny man waves cheerfully as I exit the classroom, practically running.

As I hurry down the corridor I catch a snatch of conversation, “… really dude, she’s gorgeous … and she really helped your sorry arse? A Ravenclaw?”

“Hey [Y/n], wait up!” I turn to see the twins hurrying over from their previous position outside of Flitwick’s room. I clutch my books closer to my chest and begin to walk faster, feeling slightly bad for doing so, but knowing that if they say anything now there’s a chance Flitwick will hear them. I turn the corner and stop, reversing myself to face the advancing boys. They run into me at full speed.

“Oh God, sorry.” one says, dusting himself off and extending a hand. “I’m George.”

“And I’m Fred,” says the other as I try to regain my balance.

“As you know by way of note I’m [Y/n]. Nice to meet you both.”

“Why were you running away?” George asks.

“I needed to get some distance from that class before speaking.”

“Thanks by the way,” Fred says scratching the back of his neck. “When he asked you to stay I thought for sure you’d been caught.”

“So did I,” I laugh nervously.

“So why did you help my mirror image here?” George cocks his head, his left eyebrow arching upward.

“To be perfectly honest I don’t know. He looked rather pitiful for one.”

“Heyyy!” Fred crosses his arms. “Interesting accent you have there by the way. Where are you from?”

“I attended Ilvermorny in the States but came here by letter of transfer. I’m a military brat as my dad would say.” I hold my books a little tighter at the memory of home.

“What’s your next class?” George inquires. “I knocked you over, so I owe you as much as seeing that you arrive there smoothly.”

“Defense Against the Dark Arts, but it’s really okay. You two don’t need to be late, we are already running a bit behind.” I note the slowly emptying hallway.

“Won’t be the first time,” says Fred.

“Or the last,” George adds.

“Off we go then,” they state in unison, each looping an arm through mine and dragging me down the hall unexpectedly.

After several minutes of the twins bantering back and forth we arrive at the DADA classroom

“Here we are.” George smiles warmly.

“Thank you both.” Perhaps Flitwick was wrong about these two.

“Well we must be going darling. Don’t cry. Farewell, farewell.” George bows, kissing my hand theatrically.

“It was marvelous to meet you darling, absolutely marvelous, but the hour is late. Adieu, adieu.” Fred does the same as his brother, bowing deeply before his lips cross my hand.

Together they bound off down the hallway, jumping to hit a hanging banner at the other end. “Later [Y/n]!” They yell together as they round the corner. I enter class with an odd mixture of confusion and amusement filling my brain.


At dinner in the Great Hall, the twins wave at me from across the room They have the biggest personalities at Hogwarts thus far, and from what I’ve learned today hold many school records for their mischief. They definitely made today interesting, or at least bearable.

After dinner I follow my house members back to our common room, but not before noticing two mops of shaggy ginger hair watching me leave.


Just like yesterday, I arrive to charms early. After the note-passing incident I feel the need to be more careful. The struggling Hufflepuff from yesterday takes her seat across the room, and Flitwick hurries over to check her wand motions. As I watch intently, I miss Fred quickly sliding into the seat beside me.

“Hello,” he says brightly.


“Don’t sound so excited.” Sarcasm drips from his tongue. He leans back in his chair with an amused look on his face. “Are you capable of speech or should I tell George I’ve discovered an American language barrier?”

“Oh,” I glance away quickly. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want a repeat of yesterday. Flitwick is my head-of-house so I need to stay on his good side.”

“Well I understand that, but I must inform you that class hasn’t started yet.” He points out the now obvious fact, leaving me feeling quite ridiculous. “I would be rather hurt if you didn’t speak though, that seat of yours sat vacant for far too long.”

Class begins immediately after this comment and I shoot Fred an apologetic look. He was only trying to be friendly after all, and somehow I managed to go flat. It was as if my brain had stopped working. Our assessments from yesterday are passed out and I earn a proud smile from the tiny Professor, top marks.

Beside me Fred is practically dancing with delight. “What?” I ask, a shy smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. He’s so childish, but not in an annoying way.

“This is the highest marks I’ve made in this class all year!” he exclaims. Across the room George looks less than thrilled. Fred’s breath tickles at my ear and his shoulder gently bumps mine. “Thanks by the way.”

“It’s passed, let’s not bring it up again as it will never happen a second time.” I try to keep my voice low. Fred looks at me with puppy dog eyes, his lip poked out so far that an entire quidditch team could land on it. I stifle a laugh. “Well alright, how about this? I have a proposal for you.”

“[Y/n] dear, I’m truly flattered but I barely know you.” He places a hand over his heart. The classroom somehow becomes dead silent just in time for me to snort in laughter. Fred’s eyes go wide and across the room his brother’s mouth falls open. I clamp a hand over my mouth quickly, embarrassment causing my cheeks to turn Weasley hair red, and it happens again. Fred begins laughing loudly to cover for me, and soon the entire class is laughing for no apparent reason.

Things finally quiet down and Flitwick gives Fred a stern look. “Mr. Weasley?”

“Yes.” Both Fred and George answer. They exchange glance that can only mean this has happened before.

“Fred Weasley.”

“Yes?” George answers.

“No, then George Weasley.”

“Sir?” Fred replies, earning a few snickers from the class.

“I’d appreciate it if you would share whatever-”

“Sir, I’m George!” George interrupts.

“But I just-”

“No sir. I’m George, always have been,” George says earnestly.

Flitwick lets out a mighty puff of air and turns back to Fred, drawing himself to his full –and still rather undaunting– height. “The joke Weasley.”

“Oh Professor, you see, I was just thinking to myself-”

“Let me stop you right there. That sounds dangerous,” the little old man chuckes at his own joke and resumes teaching in good spirits. His anger vanished at the easygoing smile Fred offered up under pressure. Apparently spells aren’t the only thing charming in this room, and I’m beginning to notice.

The rest of class passes quickly, and I exit the classroom with Fred and George. “So,” George begins, “ he made you laugh so hard you snorted. Must have been some joke.”

“George, I must say it was no laughing matter, we were nearly engaged. Gave me a frightful scare really, seeing as we are both rather young for that sort of business.” Fred recounts.

“You were almost engaged to my brother?!?” George fakes shock. “How rude, didn’t even ask for my blessing.”

I sigh and shake my head with a smile. “No George, it was not at all like that. I said I had a proposal for Fred, not that I was proposing to him.”

They look at each other and shrug. “Same thing.” The two seem to be literal extensions of each other, forever speaking in sync.

“Well,” George looks at me expectantly. “Out with it then.”

I look around anxiously not wanting to be overheard. This plan is one I hatched last night in bed. The boys seem nice enough and I do not want to repeat the same drudgery of constant studying without fun as I did at Ilvermorny. “You teach me how to prank, I’ll tutor you both in return.”

Fred raises an eyebrow. Throwing his arm around George’s shoulder he holds up a finger. “One moment please, I need to speak with my associate.”

Within seconds of whispering they turn back around. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Ravenclaw.”


The grass beneath a weeping willow by the lake tickles at my neck. I’ve been at Hogwarts for six months. Summer is rapidly approaching and my chest grows heavy at the fact. It’s funny really, how quickly this place has become my home. While I miss Ilvermorny, I know I will miss this place more, mostly because of the people, namely Fred and George. Over the past several months of wreaking mayhem around school I’ve developed a strange sort of feeling for Fred. I would say butterflies, but really it’s an entire menagerie of fluttering creatures in my stomach.

“So the year is almost up,” George says from my left.

“Are you going to be back next year?” asks Fred. He lies in the grass on my right. One of the few clear days we have had, has resulted in an afternoon of watching clouds pass by.

“I certainly hope so,” I sigh, “ but with my dad’s job I can never be sure.” We listen to the rustling of the branches overhead and I prop up to grab my journal. I don’t want to forget this.

I smile as I flip through the pages, six months of pranks, six months of escaping detention, six months of angering Filch and sneaking out at night to meet the boys. Notes are pressed between the pages with the last of the fall leaves. Margins are filled with descriptions of fiery red hair, thundering laughs, almost inaudible whispers, and my thoughts. This book breathes like a part of me, and I suppose it is.

“What’s that?” George rolls into his stomach, watching me with curiosity. “I always see you scribbling in that thing but I’ve never asked.”

“Just an old journal, nothing major.” I try to shrug it off in hopes he won’t move closer to read. “Just stories and things I need to remember. It’s rubbish really.” I close the book and collect my things. If he had seen, he would have surely known how I feel about his brother. “Race you to the Great Hall? We are going to miss supper.”

“You’re on!” They both exclaim, jumping to their feet.

“3 … 2 …1!” I shout, tripping over a root and dropping my books. The boys laugh and help me pick them up.

“This reminds me of the day we all met. George helped you up and we all laughed at our clumsiness.” Fred says helping me dust off.

“Reminds me of how we absolutely confused Snape until he had Peeves run a tripwire for revenge.” I mumble as we cross the grounds.

“At any rate, it’s been an excellent year.” George says, pushing open the door. We say a quick goodbye and hurry to our respective tables.

After a delicious dinner I sit in my dorm completing assignments. Wait. Where is my journal? My mind flashes back to the tumble I took and George’s smug face floats into my mind as I pull a piece of grass from my Charms textbook. Oh no. If he read it he knows-

“Hey [y/n]?” A younger Ravenclaw girl sticks her head into the room. “I found this on the ground by the willow, you must have forgotten it.” The girl hands me my leather journal as I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Thank you so much.” I flip through the pages as she shuts the door. That was close.


The walls of the dorm are bare, my friends all down at the Hogwarts train station. I’m running a bit late as I have been writing last minute details down. I place my treasured journal into the top of my trunk as the door creaks open.

“Hey Y/N/N,” Fred leans against the wooden bedpost.

“Hey. I can’t believe this is it.”

“I can’t either.” He seems a bit nervous and far less chatty than usual.

“It’ll be okay of course, there’s always next year.” I attempt to smile cheerfully despite my secret. Little does he know, but last Monday I received an owl saying that my family and I will be returning to the states. My father has received work as a recruiting officer.

“What is it?” Concern mixes into Fred’s already uneasy voice.

“What do you mean?”

He takes a step closer to me. “You know what I mean. That was a fake smile, you’ve been off all week, just tell me.”

I take a deep breath, “I’m going back to America.”

“Oh.” He silently opens his arms, the wind knocked out of him. As he holds me tight he nuzzles his face into my hair and I try to memorize his scent. “I hope you are happy there.” His voice nearly breaks my heart. Where I’m going is no longer home. Hogwarts is home.

“Thank you,” I whisper as he releases me. He walks towards the door but stops abruptly. In two steps he crosses the room, his hands tangle with my hair. He presses his lips to mine. I’m shocked but I don’t resist. They are silky smooth and tinged with salt from the tears running down my face. He slowly breaks away.

“I didn’t want to miss my last chance to do that.” The little composure I had shatters at his words. “George saw the notebook that day by the willow. He put it back after dinner. I was hoping we would have more time.”

I nearly choke, “You were hoping?”

“Yeah,” he looks at his feet. “I thought you were cool after Charms that first day, but as we spent more time together …” he trails off. His light brown eyes look into mine mournfully. “Please write. Promise me you’ll write.”

“I will. I promise.”


We disembarked the Hogwarts Express that day with tears in our eyes. George gave me a quick hug goodbye, and I fussed at him for stealing my notebook (All in good spirits of course). Fred held onto me until Molly dragged him away. Six hours later I was on a flight home.

It’s been three months and my parents have settled back into American life again, and though I have not, they have accepted this fact. My heart belongs to ivy walls, weeping (and whomping) willows, ancient secrets, and a red-headed boy named Fred. I pull out a piece of letter parchment and a quill to write him three words.

“I’m coming home.”

Thank you so much for reading lovelies. I love each and every one of you. Thank you also to the ever patient and kind person who requested this imagine a few days ago. While I had a few mental blocks writing this, I thoroughly enjoyed the journey.

A quick reminder that requests are open on my page. Don’t worry too much about the future, tomorrow will care for itself. Smile, you are beautiful! And always keep swimming.