my brain just does these things

*Sigh*

My niece got yelled at the other day for knowing what a bisexual person was and when asked how she knew she said “My aunt’s pansexual so I guess from her.” And now I have been informed to “stop talking about inappropriate things to children, she’s just a kid.” She’s 10 years old and I knew what that meant when I was 8, I’m so confused and not happy right now

i say “i’m seeing a therapist” and he takes a step backwards. why he wants to know. what happened. what made me like this, basically. what was the final step that pushed me safely into the side of scary people like them.

there’s a lot i think about. like how my illnesses effect me outside of the actual symptoms. like beyond the weight there’s a second river to drown in.

i mean we don’t talk about having to stare at employment papers where they ask you to self-identify your problems. that little bead of sweat that forms when you worry - what if i don’t tell them and i need help? what if i tell them and they think i’m a risk factor? what if they won’t give me the job?

we don’t talk about the way some people act when they find out. the ones who are rude about it are one thing. but then there’s those people you thought were your friends who act like you just told them you’re infectious. who become weird and distant and suspicious like a switch flipped. like if they get to close to you, you’ll give it to them.

we learn to be okay with things we overhear on the bus but we never get used to it coming out of the mouth of the people we love. we carry this secret with us like a rotted fruit, clutching it to our bodies. we’re ashamed of our scars in front of our boss. we don’t talk about our panic attacks during lunch breaks. when the cop pulls you over “i’m disassociating” isn’t an excuse we can open the page on. when you watch people make these ranting posts about how real friends always text back, how if someone loves you, they’ll find the time to spend. success stories make other people cry with inspiration while some part of your brain is saying you can’t do that, you’re not like them. things are uglier at the bottom. you can’t explain why you can’t just make friends. you can’t write because you’re depressed but when you’re depressed you write best. you can’t eat today and no don’t ask why please. nevermind taking the train. never mind trying to be happy. never mind reading books and watching movies and wondering where exactly are people like you in hero stories. i watch a video where a man tells me that being depressed is just a mindset. when i wear all black someone remarks i look particularly emo today. it’s 2017 does anyone say emo anymore, i ask her, and she laughs, “you just look like one of those fake-depressed girls.” okay.  

i don’t tell him my therapist is actually why things don’t happen anymore. why i’m getting a handle on it. my tongue feels swollen. i feel embarrassed talking about it. in the highest twist of irony, i think of how many people know my problems anonymously on the internet. i almost spill out all my troubles onto him. instead i tell him it’s just a precaution. that i think everyone should really see a therapist, they’re brain mechanics and we all need a tune-up now and then. he relaxes.

okay. okay. i’m sorry i’m one of them.

Writing is Hard, part 7: The Shower

Summary: Dean doesn’t appreciate the story you write about your first time.

Read Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Warning: Smut, awkward sex gone wrong (but it gets fixed!)

Word Count: 3000ish

A/N: This is all written with love for fan fic. I’m teasing, not putting it down in any way. Hope you enjoy! (Sorry, tag list is closed!) XOXO


It’s a little sweaty when you wake up. Dean’s on his stomach with his face turned away from you, snoring a tiny bit, his body sprawling over the king-sized bed and leaving you curled up in one tiny little corner.

He does look good, though. The sunlight can’t get through the curtains, but you left a lamp on, and the muscles of his back are all exposed in the dim light. You lean up to get a better view and appreciate him fully, and instantly groan. Your muscles hurt. Apparently, you’ve been curled up in knots all night, and you desperately need to stretch out.

Keep reading

The real downside (for me at least) to be extensively trained in analytical thinking (which is pretty much all a scientific education is) is that sometimes I can’t shut it off and it does at times make it hard to just like, enjoy things. 

Like someone just wants to share a fun thing and my asshole brain is just like ‘here’s five reasons why that thing is probably not true/not as fun as you think it is’ and it’s like, calm the fuck down we don’t need that, just let people enjoy their shit geez. 

For example I was genuinely taken out of an episode of a shitty police procedural I was watching the other day because they had a scientist say something about better controlling his evil ‘experiment’ and I was like ‘well that’s not actually a true control for you conditions and it should be obvious.’ 

Like shut up brain, no one cares. you’re watching shitty tv by yourself, stop.

anonymous asked:

Hey, I find really sweet the way you write Saeran, and I was wondering if you could write about him crushing desperately on mc and trying to express it, even if he had no idea of what to do (if you want to add the whole RFA too is ok and if you don't want to do this request, it's okay too, you can write about an idea of your own instead!)

Haha, glad you like our characterization! This prompt was so cute, so we decided to also do a few others in the RFA along with Saeran. Hope you like it! 


Saeran:

  • He realized he had feelings for you when he called you at 4am one night
  • He had a nightmare and you were the first person that came to mind
  • He tried to apologize for waking you
  • But you just told him that you would always be there for him no matter what
  • Somehow, it hit him hard and he fell harder
  • He acts a bit awkward around you afterwards
  • He has these new feelings that he’s not sure how to cope with
  • Still, he wants you to know that he appreciates you
  • All he knows though is what he’s seen on TV
  • Like he tries to give you his hoodie…and then gets embarrassed when you thank him but say you’re not cold
  • He notices you walking too far out on the street, so he’ll give you a little push so you’re closer to the sidewalk…only he pushes you a little too far
  • “Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to cut into your personal space, Saeran.”
  • No…that’s not what he meant…don’t go so far…oh noo
  • He tries to surprise you with ice cream with nuts on top…only you politely refuse because you’re allergic to nuts
  • You get overly excited one day and give him a hug
  • He gets as red as his hair and you ask if he’s okay, all the while getting a little closer
  • Poor boy is dying
  • At this point, Seven (who had been watching the whole painful process) intervenes and gives you a little nudge…and your lips land on Saeran’s lips
  • Ah, guess the secret is out

Yoosung:

  • You two had spent a lot of time together in the months after the first RFA party you hosted
  • One day, you two were just walking around and talking and you started talking about some personal problems
  • You apologize and admit you feel safe around Yoosung
  • He’s immensely touched to think that someone could feel like that about him
  • Only he can’t stop thinking about how that moment felt….or about you
  • He realizes he’s starting to develop a crush on you
  • He gets flustered every time you compliment him on something
  • Even the smallest thing gets him blushing
  • Big compliments destroyed him
  • “Yoosung…your shoulders have been getting broader.”
  • “Really? Thanks! You too!”
  • “What?…”
  • “NO!”
  • He tries some pick-up lines…but he keeps losing courage after the first “hey, MC!”
  • Eventually he does get some advice from Zen
  • Finally, he confesses to you….it only takes him a year

Jumin:

  • You and Jumin had been talking in the chat a lot more after the RFA party
  • He realizes that he feels something different about you than the other members
  • He knows what it is…but doesn’t want to confirm it just yet
  • V is hanging by the penthouse one day and Jumin just starts rambling vague questions
  • V listens carefully before looking up at him 
  • “So, you’re asking what happens when someone thinks about a person all the time, wants to see them, and finds themselves opening up more by accident?….So, you got a crush on MC?”
  • Does Jumin Han is blush? Yes he does.
  • Whenever you two meet, he’s always trying to find an excuse to spend time with you
  • He wants to get to know everything about you…only he gets so nervous, he asks sooo many questions
  • It’s okay, cuz you find it cute
  • He’s usually really good with his words, but around you his brain is a mess
  • So, in attempts to be smooth, he quotes a drama he’s recently watched
  • Only…you recognized the quote and now he’s embarrassed
  • At the next RFA meeting, you admitted you found him attractive
  • His response came out stammered you broke Jumin
  • Once he gets his feelings sorted and put together, he does eventually confess to you


Seven:

  • Your car broke down one night in a strange town and you were really scared
  • You call Seven to see if he’d be willing to pick you up
  • He can tell you’re pretty shaken up so he offers to call one of the other members to help
  • But then you tell him you’d feel more comfortable if he was around
  • He didn’t know why, but the statement made his heart brain beat really fast
  • You’ve always been good friends, but as he’s driving you back home, he finds he has an urge to spend more time with you
  • He doesn’t know how to approach you to just “hang out”
  • So he does the only thing he knows how…
  • You call the next day, “Seven, I got a virus on my computer!”
  • “Oh…is that so? I can come over to fix that.”
  • He knew he had to think of something new after the eighth virus
  • Luckily he doesn’t have to because you kind of caught on and invited him to hang out a few times
  • Sometimes little compliments slip out but he tries to cover it up real fast
  • “Wow, you look pretty today,” he mumbles
  • “What?”
  • “Uh…you haven’t unlocked that part of 707. Try again at level 5.”
  • Coincidentally, it’s in one of these slip-ups that he confesses…and you actually hear it 

Check out our other headcanons~ Masterlist

I low-key want to write a fanfic that is Yusuke’s Social Link Confidant, but have it end as a romance.

But I don’t know if people would be interested in that…

Like, all 10 Ranks. Plus some of the extra bonus still like going to the Ramen Shop and Planetarium included.

Edit: As a side note, I don’t think I’d want to change the underlying premise of Yusuke’s Confidant, because I really did like bonding with him and seeing him grow as an artist. I just think it would be a lot more interesting to expand on what was there. Also romance. Romance. But yeah, I wouldn’t want to take away the struggle of a Slump because ho-boy do I know that Struggle it is so real…

2x07 Theory: Malec

So I was asked to write my 2x07 theory and I think I’ve completely put everything together.

So Jace has sex with a random chick (at Magnus’ apartment, like ew we have no room for straight people here get out) and Alec and Jace have a conversation about why the hell Jace is there in the first place. I think that Alec walks in on Jace and the girl doing the do and is utterly repulsed by it. Okay so this sight may have played a hand in Alec’s thinking of sex. I’m not saying he didn’t have those desires before, I’m just saying that this had him wokeTM .

So, Alec goes to none other than his lovely little sister for a sexual consult, to which Izzy is absolutely ecstatic. (number one #malec shipperTM) She probably says something along the lines of “You just know” or something. She then proceeds to explain to him the intricacies of gay sex and he is very confuesd a) because he knows how it works he’s a grown ass man, and b) why does his little sister know so much about the intricacies of gay sex.

And then they go shopping in Japan bc they wanna get away from cockblock JaceTM and when they are there, Alec decides to buy Magnus an omamori, a Japanese good luck charm because Alec is soft af.

Magnus is shook!

and then you have Alec going in for the kill. But it’s just a quick smooch because they are soft boyfriendsTM

Then here we have Magnus and Alec cuddling up into each other on the balcony being all domestic and shit. Things from this point become erotic and something clicks in Alec’s brain and he’s just like ‘I’m ready to lose my flower leggo’ and they begin to take it into the bedroom but then Alec stops to tell Magnus that he is worried he won’t ‘be good at it’ or something like that and the Magnus will say…

And then…

They make love.

How does this story end? Well…


we all die.

anonymous asked:

can you write a lil bit, like head canons, or whatever form takes your fancy, on autistic kara?

eliza doesn’t know what she’s facing here, other than a small alien girl who clings to her cousins hand.

her cousin, who didn’t even stay to help her settle in.

he had called ahead, asked them to take her and as soon as the girl - kara, the only word she responds to - had taken a step toward them, toward the house, he had flown away.

eliza understands, in a way. but her understanding is only a very small part of her, and the rest is so angry on kara’s behalf. because kara never gets angry. she just stares around with wide, solemn eyes and accepts whatever happens next. sit here, stay there, move here, don’t do that…she just nods and follows the directions and eliza is afraid to push because this girl witnessed something that eliza cannot fathom. but something clark said had stuck and eliza can’t help but want to figure it out.

“it wasn’t supposed to be this hard,” he had said over the phone. he sounded exhausted, upset yes but so exhausted. “it wasn’t - she’s not like me. it wasn’t like this for me, i don’t know how to help her. i don’t know how to reach her, make her understand. please, will you help me?”

help, at some point, evolved into “take her” and then she’s sitting at the end of the bed they squeezed into alex’s room, hands folded on her lap, bag at her feet.

he hadn’t even come inside.

she flinches every time someone takes a step and when jeremiah pushes open the window, the hinges screech and kara is gone. she’s so fast that eliza stands dazed until she thinks to look for her and they find her on the opposite end of the house, pressed into the corner, hands balled over her ears.

“ah jeez,” jeremiah sighs, and eliza leans back into his warm side, stares across at her. “what are we going to do?”

“whatever we can.”

he nods after a moment, wraps an arm around her waist. “introductions first?”

kara has eased her hands down and she stares at eliza’s feet when she steps forward. when eliza crouches in front of her, she stares at her own feet.

“kara.” she rocks back on her feet. eliza quietens her voice as much as she can. “my name is eliza. do you understand?” she waits, and waits, and when the floorboards creak under her husbands feet, she shakes her head and he doesn’t say whatever he was going to say. they wait a little more and then, finally, kara meets her eyes.

“eliza. jeremiah.”

her voice is thin. a whisper, but if a whisper had less heft.

eliza counts the introductions as a victory, again when kara says “alex” without prompting when she walks into the room, and they celebrate with cookies because eliza doesn’t know any thirteen year olds who don’t like chocolate chip cookies.

//

“alex,” kara says when she steps into the room, and alex rolls her eyes.

“still haven’t broken that habit, mom,” she calls out, and eliza looks up from the dining table, pages strewn across it, and nods. “are we going to work on that or what? time to deprogram the bug.”

“while i am very pleased to see you’re learning something useful at school, kara is not a robot, alex, so be nice.”

“she’s kind of a robot. follows specific orders, organises stuff, talks weird.”

“if you can’t be helpful, alexandra, you can go to your room.”

alex falls silent. eliza returns to her work. jeremiah steps into the room and kara says “jeremiah”, and eliza looks up to meet her daughters rather insistent ‘i told you so’ eyes.

//

“i don’t know what to tell you, dear,” martha says. there’s a cow mooing in the background. eliza stares out at the beach and reminds herself, even when one daughter can crumble the beach rocks to sand with a too strong sneeze and the other has taken to moods and glowers, that things could be worse and she could live on a farm. with those plastic boots. and cows. “clark was never like that. oh that poor dear, i can’t imagine…”

“but his powers, he didn’t get them until he was older,”

“he was always strong and remarkably resilient. always good for a new mother,” martha chuckles. “but around, oh, ten? he lifted the tractor up for his pop and things haven’t been the same since.”

“do you think she’s having trouble because it’s so new?”

“it’s possible. she did lose her family too, dear,” martha reminds her. “trauma like that does funny things to a person. but clark took to it all so easily, ‘cept for a few broken windows and scares. all this with your kara…i’m sorry it’s so hard, what with dealing with her little quirks,”

“sorry, martha,” eliza cuts her off. “i have to go - alex is using kara to weed the garden, this can’t end well.”

it doesn’t end as badly as she feared, but one of the bigger trees has been uprooted too, alex is grounded, and kara…kara doesn’t look upset at the idea that she did something wrong. she looks terrified. and she disappears, slowly, into the basement and curls her hands around her ears and it’s a very long time before she even seems to hear eliza, let alone listen to her.

she thinks about martha’s words when her knees click and the basement floor turns freezing and promptly ignores them. it’s no harder raising kara than it is with alex, just different. and she doesn’t want to speak ill about the other woman, clark is a good man, but he’s also a man who abandons his little cousin at a strangers house.

eliza wraps her arm around kara’s shoulder when she is allowed to, and presses a kiss to her head.

//

“they called it uwe wegh,” kara says softly to eliza one afternoon. alex is at a summer school - it involves a lot of dissection and playing with chemicals and alex comes home smelling of sanitizer even to eliza’s nose. she hopes it’s not why alex does it, but kara keeps her distance from alex when she smells so strongly.

“what was that, dear? pass me the bread tin.”

kara’s hand hovers over the baking tin and, when eliza nods, she passes it over.

“uwe wegh.” she looks very serious and the words are clearly kryptonian so eliza lays her spoon down on the counter and turns to face her. kara sucks in a breath. “it means…to have a brain that,” she frowns down at the recipe book. slides her finger down the page, runs her thumb over the side so the paper ruffles. “is a different brain.” the worried wrinkle appears and she looks over at eliza. “thats not right. it was more…doctor sounding.”

“like a diagnosis?”

“it’s not a disease.”

“i didn’t say that, sweetheart,” eliza soothes. not that kara sounded angry, she never really does. just reserved. “did you, have that?” she asks, a little awkwardly.

kara nods. “they followed me around for two days and then told my father. they asked a lot of questions.”

“like what?”

she shrugs. “what i like to eat. and wear, and listen. what i like to do. my favourite toys to play with.”

“what did you tell them?”

she shrugs again. something she learned from alex. eliza doesn’t mind: she would stand out more if she didn’t shrug or roll her eyes. “i was little. i don’t remember.”

“okay.” eliza picks up her spoon. “thank you for telling me, sweetheart.”

kara nods.

when eliza scoops the batter into the tin, she gives kara the bowl and the spoon to lick.

“i thought you should know. because i’m not like clark. and it’s harder with my quirks,” she says, which means she definitely heard the things eliza didn’t want her hearing. “and it’s not,” she touches her ear and then her glasses nervously, doesn’t even try to say anything about her powers. “it’s just me. it’s my brain.”

“thank you for telling me,” eliza says again. “would you lay the table?”

//

they have to have a proper discussion about it but it had to wait for later because what kara told her finally clicked a few pieces into place and eliza does three days worth of research before she carries a large book to the dining room table and calls kara softly to join her.

she scoots their chairs close together, wraps an arm around her shoulder.

“autism, the autism spectrum,” she says, and kara leans forward to read. when she’s done, she’s stiff and quiet, and then she leans into eliza’s side and looks up at her when eliza brushes the hair out of her face. “i think this fits, sweetie. what do you think?”

kara shrugs.

“it doesn’t have to mean anything, but it can’t hurt to know a little more. and it’s given me some ideas about how we can work on making you more comfortable.”

“i’m fine, eliza,”

“alright.” she hands over the notes she made, and kara folds the pages three times and hides them in between her hands. “you read them for me, okay? and we can talk about it whenever you like. now it’s your turn to pick dinner,”

“noodles,” kara says immediately, unsurprisingly. it’s the same dinner she’d picked four times in a row and eliza nods. same foods. she’d read that somewhere.

“noodles it is.”

OKay sO...

Imagine in like 2 years, the boys got back together and announced a world tour. Yes, they would sing songs from the old albums and Made In The AM.
But…BUT IMAGINE.
The boys also joined in or listened to each other singing some of their hit solo songs 🙈 

The boys dancing and jumping to Just Hold On,

the boys swaying to Sign Of The Times and rocking to Kiwi, 

the boys fucking jamming to Slow Hands

and sexy dancing to Strip That Down. 

Honestly…why does my brain do these things to me? 😭

Pop-Tarts - Andrews!Reader X Jughead

[A/N: Okay so you can blame @kingpendleton for this one, I just wanted to write a bit of a tropey piece and this is what I came up with. It’s a little rough because it was only supposed to be a short number but I ended up with 2300 words.]

Word Count: 2300

Originally posted by alwayschach-sprouseblog

‘Do you ever, I don’t know, hang out at your own house?’ You asked as you flopped down onto the occupied sofa.

Jughead Jones lay slouched next to you with his feet firmly placed on your small coffee table; he was surrounded by multiple bags of chips and sweet treats, and a gluttonous sized cup of soda.

‘And why would I ever want to do that when I can enjoy such fantastic company, like yourself, right here in the Andrews home?’ He flashed you the most sarcastic face he could muster, behind his eyes however there lay genuine humour.

You playfully kicked his feet from your coffee table with a gentle shove and replaced them with your own, he huffed in annoyance.

Keep reading

Does anyone else get this thing where you can’t remember specific words? I’ve just assumed it was an adhd thing or a speech impairment thing, but if anyone can relate to this I’d love to know (if I can explain it well enough). It’s like if I’m talking and suddenly I realize that I can’t remember the word that I need. And usually my brain gives me a different word, and I know it isn’t the right word but it’s the only thing I can think about. Like if I need the word comfortable, but my brain only gives me contact or something like that. And sometimes I’ll mean to say one word, but I accidentally say something else. Sometimes I realize this after it has left my mouth and I hear it out loud, but sometimes I don’t notice at all. Like maybe I’m going to say “can you pass me the knife” but instead I’ll say “can you pass me the fork”. Forgetting words isn’t such a rare thing, I know that. But this happens to me a lot, and I was wondering if it’s a thing anyone can relate to?

I find Tumblr weird, to be honest … 

Like: “there’s a person who has never harmed anyone, never plans to harm anyone, and is just enjoying a totally harmless thing either in their head or through a creative process … I hate them for that”.

I mean, why are people so intent on taking away someone’s happiness just because they disagree with either their orientation or preferred ship or political inclinations or any number of things? If I’m sitting in my little corner, never hurting a single soul emotionally or physically, does it really matter what I think and feel inside the confines of my brain? Does that affect anyone?

Every time anyone tries to shame me, I just shrug.

Why should I feel ashamed of being me?

anonymous asked:

Can you do a story where Scully is sick and tearful and Mulder comforts her? I love vulnerable Scully, there is not enough fanfic like that. Or do you know any tumblers that do XF sick fic or Scully sick fic? I am new to tumblr so not very good at navigating it, thanks

I have a fairly long fic where Scully’s sick, Mulder wants to comfort her, and she learns little by little to accept it.  It’s cancer arc, and it’s called Between Sorrow and Bliss.

As for vulnerable… this is an idea that’s been kicking around in my brain.  Set in S2, immediately after Irresistible.




She stands frozen in the motel bathroom, unable to make herself walk towards the bathtub along the far wall.  It’s like an open mouth threatening to swallow her whole, to finish the job that Donnie Pfaster had begun, hours before.

Scully had hoped hard that the motel would have rooms with just shower stalls, but they’d had no such luck, and she doesn’t want to go out into the room where Mulder is waiting and ask him to leave and find a different place to stay the night.  If she does, he’ll want to know why, and the last thing she wants is for him to know how deeply all of this is still affecting her.  It’s bad enough that she’d broken down in his arms at Pfaster’s house; she’s not willing for him to know she’s in here losing her mind over a bathtub.

You have to get clean, she tells herself sternly.  You will feel much better once you’ve washed the dirt and blood out of your hair.  She takes a single, tentative step towards the tub, and right away, her chest seizes up and she can’t breathe.  The tightness in her lungs is painful, she’s lightheaded immediately, and she sinks back against the closed bathroom door with a loud thunk.

In seconds, Mulder is right outside, knocking at the door.  “Scully?  You okay in there?”  She opens her mouth to call out yes, she’s fine, everything’s fine, stay out there, but her voice is strangled in her throat.  She can’t draw enough breath to get the words out.  “Scully?”  Mulder’s sounding panicked now.  She gives him about fifteen more seconds until he breaks the door down, and it’s the thought of having to explain to Skinner why the FBI is being billed for a destroyed bathroom doorframe that finally forces her to move.  

Scully wraps a towel tightly around herself and unlocks the door.  She opens it and steps back, looking down, still trying to force air into her stubborn, traitorous lungs, knowing that the moment she looks up at his face, he’ll see it in her eyes.

“The, uh….”  She takes a deep breath, managing to keep it from sounding like a gasp.  “The shower wouldn’t turn on.”  She risks a look at his face to find he’s frowning at her skeptically.  He crosses the bathroom, leans over and flicks the tap, which, of course, works immediately.  But the deep booming of the water rushing into the tub sets Scully off again, and before she can stop herself she’s backed against the wall, sinking down to the floor.  She’s dimly aware that her towel is slipping, but she can’t bring herself to care.

“Turn it off,” she hisses, and Mulder hastens to comply.  He crouches down in front of her, concern written all over his face.  He doesn’t need to ask what the problem is; he went through Pfaster’s entire house before they’d left the scene.  He saw the tub that had been prepared for her.  He reaches out and gently fixes her towel where it’s begun to gap at the bottom.

“Tell me what to do, Scully,” he urges her, his voice low and soothing.  “How can I help?”  She shakes her head.

“You can’t,” she says.  “I wanted… I just wanted to shower, that’s all… but… I just froze.”  She covers her face, ashamed, but Mulder’s having none of that.  He reaches out and takes her hand.

“Scully,” he says, “there’s absolutely nothing for you to be embarrassed about here.  I told you before, agents with way more experience in the field than you have folded on cases like this- and that’s without any of them having actually been abducted by the killer.”

“I just wanted to get clean,” she whispers, and she hates how weak her voice sounds.  Mulder nods.  He looks around, and, standing, he takes a small stack of washcloths down from the rack above the toilet.  He reaches down and takes her hand, pulling her to her feet.

“How about this?” he suggests, leading her out of the bathroom.  The motel room is the sort that has the tub and toilet in the bathroom proper, with a sink and vanity in a little area off the rest of the room.  “You can fill up the sink and use the washcloths to bathe.”  He shuts the bathroom door behind him.  “You won’t even have to look at the bathtub at all.  And if you want, I’ll go to my room and give you some privacy.”

“No!”  The cry is out of her mouth before she can stop it, and she blushes.  “I mean… you don’t have to go.”  She hunches her shoulders.  “I’m not ready to… I don’t want to….”

“You don’t want to be alone?”  There’s no judgement in his voice, only kindness, and she nods.  “Well… I’m not ready to leave you alone, so that works for me.”  And looking at his face, at the fear that hasn’t yet fully left his eyes, she realizes: this has shaken him badly.  He had to have been terrified when she’d gone missing, so soon after the last time.

“Okay,” she says.  “It’s a good idea.”  He nods and gives the hand he’s still holding a squeeze, then releases it.

“I’ll be right over here watching TV,” he says, and he leaves her to it.

Scully gets herself cleaned up quickly, taking extra care with the bruised and abraded patches, and she immediately begins to feel better.  Once her body has been scrubbed clean, though, she’s presented with a problem: her hair.  In order to wash it, she’ll have to somehow get her entire head into the sink, and it’s not very deep.  She’s not sure how she’ll be able to rinse out the shampoo without dumping water over her head, and she’s likely to make a mess.

“Everything okay?” calls Mulder from his place on the bed.  She wraps the towel back around herself and goes out to him.

“Yeah,” she says.  “I think I’m just going to have to skip my hair, though.  I can’t figure out how to do it without soaking the carpet.”  Mulder looks thoughtful.

“I could help you, if you want,” he suggests, and as Scully blanches, he backtracks.  “But if not, that’s okay,” he says quickly.  “If it would make you uncomfortable-”

“It’s not that,” she says.  “It’s just… he wanted to wash my hair.”  Mulder nods, thinking.  “I’m not sure how I’ll do with someone else doing it.”

“What if I talked to you, the whole time?” he offers tentatively.  “So you would know it was me.”  He goes over to the table by the window and seizes one of the chairs there, dragging it over.  “You can sit in this, on a couple of pillows, and lean back against the counter.  That way you can see my face the whole time.”  Scully bites her lip, thinking, weighing the possibility of panicking with the potential relief of getting the blood and dirt out of her hair.  And even if she does lose it, she realizes, Mulder isn’t going to judge her for it.  She takes a deep breath.

“Okay,” she agrees.  Mulder takes the pillows from the bed and puts them on the seat of the chair.  He folds a towel and lays it across the counter to cushion her neck, and unwraps one of the plastic drinking cups from the counter.  Scully sits down gingerly and leans back as he runs the water, fiddling with the hot and cold taps until he’s got the temperature right.

“Remember, you’re supposed to keep talking,” she prompts him, and he smiles down at her.

“My mom used to do this for me when I was a kid,” he tells her, as he uses the drinking cup to wet the hair around her hairline.  “I swam all the time- in the ocean during the summer, in the pool for swim team the rest of the year- and I was always getting ear infections.  So my mom would have me lie across the kitchen counter and she’d wash my hair in the sink to keep the water out of my ear.”  He squeezes her shampoo onto his hand and begins to work up a lather.  The scent wafts into her nostrils, and for a moment, her chest begins to constrict again.  She trains her eyes on his face and does not look away.

This is Mulder, she tells herself.  Mulder, who would never hurt you, who cares for you deeply, who doesn’t want to let you out of his sight tonight because he was so frightened of losing you.  Gradually, her breathing returns to normal, and Mulder smiles encouragingly at her.

“Samantha, on the other hand, almost never got ear infections,” he continues, rinsing the shampoo out of her hair, studiously guarding her eyes with his other hand.  “She didn’t do swim team, though, so she had less exposure to the water than I did.  One time, though….”  He smiles wryly.  “She did get one, after a nasty cold.  And my mother, for one reason or another, was out for the evening, and it was bath time, so I figured I’d wash her hair for her.”  He rubs conditioner on his hands and spreads it through her hair, massaging her scalp in a way that has her nearly groaning with pleasure.  “I had her lie on the counter, just like I always did… only, her hair was long, unlike mine, and I never thought to make sure to keep her hair out of the drain.  It got caught in the gears of the garbage disposal, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t work it free.”  He rinses out the conditioner.  “So I went for the kitchen scissors, and… well… let’s just say our mother had to take Sam the the hairdresser’s first thing in the morning to fix the worst haircut she ever had.”  Scully laughs, and most of the remaining tension leaves her chest.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t tell me that story before you offered to do this,” she says.  “I might not have agreed.”  Mulder laughs.

“Nah, there’s no garbage disposal in this sink,” Mulder says.  He turns the water off and hands Scully a dry towel.  “Okay, you’re all done.”  She sits up and dries her hair off, smiling at him gratefully, shyly.

“Thank you,” she says.  “I know hair-washing doesn’t really fall into the list of expectations partners should have for each other.”  Mulder’s expression softens, and he reaches for her hand.

“Scully,” he says, “you can expect me to have your back, always.  No matter what that entails.  You need me to cover you while you’re charging in to save the day?  You got it.  You need me to play beauty shop late at night in a cheap motel room?”  He reaches over, towel in hand, and catches a stream of water dripping from her hair down her neck before it reaches her shoulder.  “I’m there.  Whatever you need, Scully, I wanna be there for you.  Always.”

Do you hate yourself?

Do you dream of pets that try incessantly to murder their keepers?

WELL HAVE I GOT GOOD FUCKIN’ NEWS FOR YOU!

SATAN is an unsexed but probable female sandboa that YOU can own for the low, low price of “get her the fuck out of my house!!!!”

Why is she unsexed, you ask?  Well THIS LITTLE SHITBAG doesn’t believe in food, so she’s too small to properly sex! You heard it right here, folks: This sandboa is 6 months old and didn’t take a meal until J A N U A R Y! Now that’s what I call difficult!!!!

Satan’s ideal home would be with someone who has no self respect and cannot fathom interacting with a pet that wants to saw off their fingers with her tiny, tiny teeth!!!

Satan would ideally be placed with someone who doesn’t mind wasting pinky mice literally every goddamn week while she decides if she wants to continue living!!! Does she want live? Frozen thawed? Brained and scented? WHO KNOWS????? Not me!!!!!!

Satan has been known to strike just because you looked at her!!!!!! She’s had a full physical examination and is in good health, but that doesn’t stop her from being possessed by fucking snake demons!!!!!!

Eventually, Satan may realize that food is a thing that is Good and Pure ™ and she may one day make an awesome pet or breeder! Look at those high black spots, and she’s a gray belly! Don’t delay! Get this snake the fuck outta my house!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Blue eyes

Request: Hey I was wondering if you could do a BuckyXReader where the reader has a dog and she talks about him all the time so Bucky gets confused and thinks its her boyfriend and he gets a little annoyed and Jealous because he likes the reader. Thanks!

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Language

Tags; @sassy-and-classy-cowgirl  @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x @fashun–deevah


- If you sigh another time I’m calling an ambulance 

The jesting voice of Sam starttles you making you look confused at your friend. 

- I’m not sighing - you protest and he raises an eyebrow amused

Okay, maybe you do, a little bit, but in your defense how could you not? Recently you have achieved one of your life goals: have a fluffly, beautiful, adorable puppy. You have been discussing with the owner of the apartament you are ocuping for the lasts months and finally, after the promise that you will pay if the dog breaks something, he had conceed you to have a puppy, and you couldn’t be more in love with it. He is the most precious thing you have seen in your life and half of your thoughs are about him recently, you can’t wait to arrive home and play with him.

- Then, you have problems breathing? - he mocks and Nat laughs besides him

- Leave the girl alone - she says - she can’t help it

Keep reading

HEAR ME OUT: Abby’s Not Dying, She’s Pregnant

Listen.

Consider this.

I KNOW THE FANDOM IS DIVIDED ON ABBY BABY THEORY BUT STICK WITH ME.

@brittanias and I have been hashing this out and here are some thoughts.  All the symptoms we have seen Abby show so far - sleeplessness, tremors, anxiety, hallucination - could actually be symptoms of something completely different.  Such as, for example, pregnancy. When Abby’s on the radio with Kane, what we see of her does not actually appear to present as a seizure; it presents much more like an anxiety attack.  She’s restless, pacing, her jaw is clenching, her hands are shaking, and then when she hears Marcus she calms down.  What we have NOT seen yet: weakness, collapsing, fainting, sweating, bleeding from the nose or mouth, foaming, rage/mania, or a scan of Abby’s brain.

THEORY: The reminder about Abby also getting fried with the EMP, just like Raven was, and the link of Abby’s symptoms with Raven’s symptoms are a narrative misdirect (perhaps its purpose is to give a reason why Abby’s contraception chip was fried and she didn’t know it); otherwise all the attention paid to the idea that this brain thing could present very differently in different people wouldn’t actually matter, unless it was so they could show us symptoms of something that was not a brain tumor and convince us to believe it was a brain tumor.  So we see Raven hallucinate and then have a seizure, we have Abby explain why, we have Jackson say “but the same thing happened to you, I should check you,” and then we have Abby being stubborn and insisting she’s fine and refusing to let him check her.  So it’s possible that the reason we see Abby’s first symptom - the hallucination (of her child, btw) in the same episode as Raven’s is to make sure we, the audience, are going “oh shit” and immediately assuming they are the exact same kind of hallucination.  Even though hallucinations are a very common symptom of extreme sleeplessness and sleeplessness is a common symptom of a whole huge range of things.

[Edited to add, per Brittany’s suggestion just now: we don’t even know that it was a hallucination. She was alone in the lab; she straight-up could have been dreaming.  (In that fancy bed.)  Just a regular ol’ extremely vivid dream - another common pregnancy symptom.]

Another, slightly more extra, possible indicator that pregnancy is a possibility: the editing of the sex scene.  We didn’t see leadup/cut to black/afterglow like the show usually does; we saw Kane finish.  It’s possible the writers and directors are just plain old Kabby trash like we are, but it’s also possible it’s plot-relevant in some way that we have concrete proof that Kane came inside her.

So this is my prediction.  I don’t think either of them are going to die.  I think for Raven, the narrative purpose of the “oh no you have a brain thing” is not the possibility of death, it’s the seizures.  It’s to put Raven in a situation where we know there is a danger she could completely lose control of her physical body, with all of humanity on the line.  They made a big point of Raven having to switch the rocket to manual, which now means only Raven can fly it.  They made a big point of how they needed all those barrels of hydrazine for the rocket and now they’re down one; what if they can coast on only the remaining fuel as long as the rocket is only carrying the weight of one passenger and they strip out all the unnecessary internal workings to make it lighter?  Then Raven is in space, alone, with all the Nightblood, with brain that could go into seizure at any moment when she’s over-stressed.  We also have Luna’s ability to soothe Raven with her words, and we have Murphy being in the room for every one of Raven’s failed flight simulator drills (playing with a toy car whose controls are very similar to the rocket). I don’t think it’s outside the bounds of possibility that they’re setting us up for Raven to have a seizure as the rocket is landing and even though it’s in manual, Murphy has to figure out how to land it himself while Raven’s incapacitated and Luna is trying over the headset to soothe her out of her seizure.

As far as Abby, I think the narrative purpose of “oh no you also have the brain thing” could very plausibly be to set us up in the only conceivable situation where Abby would have to consent to let Jackson give her a full medical scan. If there wasn’t a chance she was seriously sick, she’d never allow it.  There’d be no point.  But if she got pregnant in Polis, then she’s less than 2 months along, which means she might not be showing and most of her symptoms might easily look like something else, especially if she already thought there was a chance she did have something else.  So my guess is that she’s going to end up pushing herself and pushing herself until she has some kind of a meltdown or collapses from exhaustion or something happens where she finally has to face the thing she’s been trying not to have to face, her fear that she might also have what Raven has.  But she’d never say “sure go ahead give me a full physical” unless she had a very good reason and Jackson had reached a point of no longer being willing to be talked out of it.  Exhaustion, anxiety/tremors, and lack of sleep could all very easily be a combination of stress, overwork and pregnancy; hallucinations or lucid dreams sometimes are as well.  Especially given that the content of the dream was her child, in danger.

In terms of the narrative purpose to be served by Abby possibly being pregnant, there are a couple possibilities.  One important thing to remember, which I had forgotten until an anon just reminded me of it, is that all the Sky People are universal blood donors, while the Grounders are not.  It’s possible that the “disappointing setback” the episode description for 408 mentions with regard to the experiment on the Grounder redshirt is because maybe a Grounder can’t take another Grounder’s blood if they aren’t type-compatible.  So that means they can’t go to space to manufacture Nightblood synthetically, and they can’t use Luna’s bone marrow to save all the Grounders; they could save all the Sky People, and they could save Grounders compatible with Luna’s blood type, but that’s all.  But if they had, oh, let’s say, Nightblood embryonic stem cells from a baby of two Skaikru universal-donor parents, then by the magic of television science (I DON’T THINK ANY OF THIS IS REAL, I JUST MEAN BY THE RULES OF HOW THIS SHOW WORKS), that could crack the code for a vaccine that could save everyone, as Clarke always intended – not just the Sky People.  

Another factor is that a number of people have tossed around the idea of long-term cryosleep and the theories about a five-year time jump in the finale being connected; that is, maybe one of the “lifeboats” they come up with to save some portion of the group is related to putting people in long-term stasis.  @knowlesian has a fantastic theory I’ll be making her elucidate when she guest-hosts Meta Station next week about how it’s possible that Cadogan’s secret “thirteenth level” was not merely a fancier bunker, but pods for long-term space travel in cryosleep similar to the ones we learned about in that story about the asteroid miners for whom Becca invented Nightblood in the first place. It was to protect them from solar radiation while in cryosleep for long space journeys.  (One factor to consider here is the constant reiteration that Raven’s brain could heal itself if she just took it easy, which of course she never fuckin’ does; however, a five-year nap in cryostasis is probably enough time for her to wake up rested and ready for the writers not have to keep writing seizures into her storyline for Season 5.)  Again, using the magic of Television Science, something something handwave handwave the Nightblood in the placenta keeps the fetus safely in stasis while Abby goes under so they don’t have to deal with the fact that she’ll still only be 2 months along when the death wave comes.  This also makes room for the most crackpot of my crackpot Pregnant Abby theories, the idea that the season’s continued thematic parallels of Abby with Bellamy (up to and including very literal moments like Abby napping on the couch and dreaming of the 100 vs. Bellamy napping on the couch while Clarke drafts the list of the new 100) are actually clues as well.  There were 100 spots on the dropship but 101 passengers, because Bellamy stowed away.  If Cadogan left 100 cryosleep pods, there would be 101 passengers if Abby’s pregnant.

On a thematic level, of course, a baby symbolizes hope and possibility and the future; it’s a nice narrative device to tie the theme of hope which has always been primarily centered on Kane and Abby’s relationship over the course of the show and make it literal.  The first Skaikru baby being born to the Chancellors feels right, and it ramps up the emotional stakes for both of them to stratospheric levels because everything is more risky for a pregnant woman. It’s also a nice way to set up a long-term possibility for Season 5 where we get to see Skaikru emerging from the wreckage, trying to rebuild a home, and a radiation-immune Nightblood baby as a sign that the human race will continue is a nice sort of thematic illustration of that sense of possibility.  

I KNOW IT SOUNDS CRAZY AND I COULD BE LAUGHABLY WRONG

BUT IF IT TURNS OUT ABBY IS NOT DYING, SHE’S PREGNANT, I’M GOING TO BE SO RELIEVED

h/t again to @brittanias and @knowlesian, as well as to @reblogginhood who occasionally feeds my tin hat conspiracy theories with things like “Vesta was a fertility goddess I’M JUST SAYING”

No strangers on the Golden Eagle (Snowbaz)

AU where Simon and Baz do not get together in their years at Watford. Simon stayed together with Agatha. However fate leads to the oddest of places in the world for soulmates to reunite.

Simon

Everything felt wrong. Everything was wrong.

I looked up at the ceiling of my compartment and enjoyed the silence. It has been so long since I have got a chance to sit somewhere no one is talking to me. No one is staring at me and demanding me to answer.
I have been trying so hard but I just ended up failing. Images fall in front of me. Failing to take down the Humdrum again and again. Agatha kicking me out of her place. She told that we were either going to get married or fall apart, she said that she had to make the better decision for both of us. I think I must have become sort of twisted in my own sense and that I completely agree with her. I didn’t argue, I just silently agree with her. I left without saying anything to her. There was nothing I needed to say and everything I wanted to say would have only upset her further. If she was the one leaving, I wouldn’t chase after her.

I have no plan so here I am. I am 24 with less than a plan for life. I searched where to get away from it all and my search has lead me to the longest train railway. It is called the trans-Siberian railway. It cuts through all of Russia. It takes 9 days to travel it all but I will be going for 15 days as I will be stopping in some of the more memorable places. The most promising thing for me was the promise of spending days with little outside your window that trees and rivers. Maybe I will find out what to do next somewhere there. If not, I have a cool experience behind me.

Baz

I have been called dramatic a couple of times in my life. Even overly dramatic sometimes. I have no idea where such grand conclusions have been drawn out. All I am planning to do is kill myself at the east of Russia, where no one will find me and if they do, no one will identify me and let my family know.

Lost. That is how my family think of me and I like that. But I cannot go out simply, I took the Golden Eagle’s Imperial compartment. The most luxurious train around. Why not drink myself to insanity in the privacy of a nice room and a private toilet to throw up in. I carefully organized for no traces that I am taking this trip is found.

I sit on my bed in my compartment and trouble myself with a simple question enough as should I take off my suit before drinking or not bother. My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on my door. It was a lady with a dining cart, offering tea, coffee, and other warm drinks. I have been learning Russian for a while so I do not have trouble talking to her. She turned out painfully chatty and I couldn’t get rid of her with a simple ‘no’.

At that moment a young man exits the compartment next to mine and the world stops.
I could recognize him from just his hair. That bronze mess of hair atop of his head. I could spot a mole on the back of his neck. I would have been able to tell even if I hadn’t spotted him. His scent fills the wagon.

It has been so long but it is really him. Now. A few steps away from me.

Simon Snow.

Simon

I leave my compartment to go to the dining cart. I am extremely hungry and just want to have a proper meal. Or get drunk because just the thought of falling asleep right now feels like a chore. A lady pushed me with a cart full of drinks and I keep walking forward.

I had planned to zone out complete and just forget myself. Yet in the instant when I felt like the world will just spin apart from me, I am grounded by the most familiar voice ever. “Well look who it is… if it isn’t the Chosen One.” I stopped stupidly in my tracks. I turned around to make sure I didn’t hallucinate. I did not need to turn around to know that the voice belonged to the one and only, Tyrannus Basilton Grimm Pitch. And in a fucking suit to top it all off.

I feel the same rush that I usually used to get when I would see him back in school. A mix of frustration and nervous butterflies in my stomach. He always had that effect on people. “Baz,” I say lamely. I am oddly happy to see him. Maybe it has been all the years we were apart and seeing him brings back good memories of Watford.

“Of all the people in the entire world I have expected to have been caught by here, you were the absolute last person I could have expected.” The way he phrased it caught me off guard. I can’t catch Agatha’s clear hints when she coughs and clears her throat but I cannot ignore a single word he says even years after.
“Caught by?” I ask him. “Are you on the run from somebody?” He grins and walks over to me. With him up closer, I realize he sort of smells the same way, it reminds me of our old room. “Oh Snow. Never changing, I see. Still assuming that I am plotting and up to no good?” He presents me with that malicious smirk of his. I can’t help but smile. It has been a while since I did and Baz was the last person who would have tried to make me smile, but he did. “Well, are you up to good?” I ask.

He laughs. I have heard him laugh many times but this felt much more kind hearted. I feel so much less empty than I did before but the butterflies are still there. It was frustrating that six years have passed and he is still significantly taller than me. “You’ve fucking caught me, Snow. Indeed I am up to no good. I plan to ruin my liver tonight by getting savagely drunk.”

Baz

I felt lost and found at the same time. All it took was to have him look at me and here I am. Putty in his hands. “You are planning to get drunk tonight?” He asks me. God. I’ve missed his voice. I have been obsessed with hs voice ever since it changed at the age of 13. I always loved his accent. He would rarely speak when we were young but he still had a unique accent. It was a mix of proper received pronunciation and Cockney, that he got from growing up around East London. “Absolutely. I have packed enough for 15 days so I hope to get through it all in one night.” I feel like actually chugging the 30 bottles of alcohol I have in one night after this encounter.

“Do you need help?”

I drank blood just a few hours prior so I felt a blush creep up on my cheeks. “You want to join me?”
“I would love to.”
I cannot help but laugh again. It has been forever since I last laughed and he already made me laugh more than I did the whole year. “Since when did you get so snappy?”
“Since I cannot stand being sober. I was going to the dining cart to help myself to a bottle of vodka.”
“Well, luckily for you, that is most of what I have. That and cranberry juice. You will fucking owe me, Snow.”
“Bring it.”

I don’t know what the fuck happened but I have never expected this to happen of all things that could have. I got glasses and we started drinking. After we had finished the cranberry juice, we started mixing the vodka with coke. We would laugh about random things that happened back in school. Oh all the stupid memories, it seemed too stupid for us, despite how drunk we were getting.

It was when we started to get low on coke did I start thinking about kissing him. I could completely blame it on the alcohol tomorrow morning when we are two hung over pieces of road kill that rolled from the bed onto the floor. We gave up on the glasses and would sip both from both bottles, a teasing indirect kiss that drove me insane. I kept on looking at his lips when he would look down, which he would do quite a lot when he got drunk. Very soon, he finished the coke and threw aside the plastic bottle. The was a few mouth fulls in the other bottle.

He wanted to say something but just hiccuped and we laughed.
“You are going to hate me so much when we wake up tomorrow,” I tell him. I really want to kiss him right now. I am considering opening about opening another bottle and drinking it straight. Maybe Snow won’t be so straight at the end of the bottle.
He does not respond to me for a moment. “I won’t.”
“Huh?” I must be too drunk and my brain is going stupid on me. But I just stupidly want to make out with him. No… I shouldn’t. He will honestly hate me in the morning. Maybe I will indulge on the last day here with him. Before ending things. What a way to go. Crossing off what is at the top of your bucket list.

Snow rubs his eyes and finally says “Fuck it.”
He chugs the rest of the vodka and throws the bottle at the garbage can, causing it to fall over. I turn my attention from the bin back to him and he grabs me by my neck and kisses me.

My eyes slowly flutter close as I enjoy what I wanted for so long. The kiss was a mess. Sloppy. Wet. Messy. He tasted bitter of alcohol. He was too rough for my taste. I have been with people who wanted to do right by me and kissed me more carefully and less drunk. Yet here I am, enjoying the best I’ve ever had.
It got deeper and messier. He pulled me closer by my waist and hair. I tangle my fingers in his curls and pull to get a good moan from him. He fought back by biting and sucking on my lower lip. He moved lower to my neck and one would think that he was the vampire with how he just went for it. I wrap my leg around him and he pulls me down on the bed.

And because all sexual fantasies are bollocks, we fall asleep just like that because we were just that drunk.

Simon

In the morning afternoon, I drag myself painfully to the dining cart. Baz was waiting for me at a table for two. He looked more like a vampire now than he ever did. He was dressed in a black turtleneck and black jeans. He was wearing very dark shades to complete the hung over aesthetic. He was drinking his coffee black to create the vampire/dangerous hipster look.

As I sit down, he tells me “I would attempt to kill you where to stand if I wasn’t so bloody hung over.”
“That’s not my fault,” I grumble as I try to pull the hood of my sweatshirt even further over my head to no avail.
“Sure. And I am guessing that you have no hand in doing this either.” He pulls down his turtleneck, revealing way too many bruises around his neck.
“My bad…”
“Could you at least try to sound guilty?”
“No. You liked it too much.”
“Piss off.” I could tell that he didn’t mean it that much anymore because I could see him struggle with the smile in the corner of his mouth.
“I am actually sorry for just… doing that. Without asking for your permission.” I really did feel bad about it but it just felt so fucking right and at the moment I just wanted to kiss him so badly that I just went for it.
He pulls his shades on top of his head and looks at me with his slightly red eyes. “I would have pushed you away if I didn’t want it.” That took me completely by surprise but it made easier what I was about to ask next.
“You told me last night that things have not been going that well for you.” He responds by angrily putting his glasses back on the bridge of his nose so I just go on. “I told you that I have been doing quite poorly as well.”
“You define ‘poorly’ as being kicked out of your ex-girlfriend’s house into the streets and escaping to Moscow? That sounds like a train wreck.”
I cross my hands. Me and my drunk mouth. “I will get my shit together when I get back. But until then…”
“Until then what? Are you going to literally wreck this train?”
“No. How about we just go for it?” I ask as he sips on his coffee, which he chokes on. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“We are going to be here together a little bit over two weeks. So why don’t we enjoy it a little? I mean… it is just… I…” I cannot help but fumble up my words.
“Are you actually asking me if I want to casually hook up with you?”
“I never put it like that I…” He shut me up.
“That is essentially what you are asking me. I’ve never expected such gayness from you.” He folds his hands across his chest.
“I am not gay. I can’t really explain it. Just… neither gender or sex change anything for me in terms of attraction.”
“So do you suddenly find me attractive because of a drunk make out session?”
“Oh, piss off. You know you are attractive. You don’t need me to confirm it to boost your already overgrown ego.”
He blinks at me in pure shock, unable to respond. I realize what came out of my stupid mouth only moments after. I essentially told Baz Pitch that I fancy him. Which is kind of hard to deny from where I am currently sitting.
Baz gets up. “I’ve ordered food for us to my compartment for the both of us. I hadn’t expected you to get up. Let’s go.” He just goes on ahead without looking back at me.

Baz

Fucking Snow. Fucking Snow. You will be the real death of me. My heart is racing so hard, it feels like it will jump out of my chest. I return to the room without closing the door, waiting for Snow to do it. The food was waiting for us. I lie back down on the bed in exhaustion to ease my killer headache. I feel Snow sit down at the base of the bed and hear him clear his throat.
“What?”
“Is that a yes?” How in the universe can I reject you when you ask something like that. “Yeah. Fine. Whatever. Probably more fun than reading a book.” I respond without opening my eyes. I somehow did not feel Snow move close enough but suddenly he was kissing me again and I just give up. I wanted this so much.

The 2 weeks seem to have swum by quickly and pleasantly. It was honestly the best time I’ve ever had. Snow practically moved into my room and slept in the same bed as me. Oddly enough, it helped me sleep better than anything that I have ever tried before. It had helped that Snow would let me cuddle up on his chest and steal his warmth. At each stop, we would go to different local attraction together. We would try random food and see different things. The train almost once left without us and we had to run like crazy to get there.
It was all very sweet. Having small dinner dates, making out, and snuggling while we sleep.
It wasn’t until the half-way point when we reached the Baikal Lake and we went swimming did things move forward. Simon loves swimming and was super enthusiastic about it. When we swam a little too far away, we started making out and then Simon hugged me from shoulder to waist. I felt so weak to that I would have drowned if he hadn’t been holding me. Eventually, he pulled me under water and we just kissed. It was like something out of a stupid romance novel.
That evening things were a little less innocent. It went from kissing to mutual masturbation to oral sex very quickly. And Simon was not acting innocent about it as he had managed to sneak away from me and buy condoms. I have fallen much deeper in love. It cannot last but I could have really indulged myself before ending this. It is worth living for but I am delusional to think that he would want to stay with me

Simon

We finally arrived at our final destination. Baz had packed up, he told me had an early flight the next day from the airport in Vladivostok. I felt horrible having to leave him. I didn’t want to. It physically hurt me knowing that I wouldn’t see him the next day. That I cannot wake up and kiss him. I was always kind of obsessed with him but this was something else. I needed him so badly that I cannot breathe.

I was going to tell him something but when the train stopped and I woke up, he must have already been at the door with his bag and left right away. It hurt so badly. It felt like nothing like being left by Agatha. I was not okay. I could never chase after him. I couldn’t. I shouldn’t.
But such stupid thoughts were not enough to stop me as I ran out of the train and started searching frantically for him.

I was about to leave the railway terminal until something caught my eye. A gorgeous young man dressed in black, looking back at the train. Baz didn’t realize that I ran out looking for him. Maybe I should have reconsidered that he did not want me. Maybe I should have. But I really didn’t.

I ran up to him, he noticed me a little too late, when I already pounced to jump on him. He is not getting away from me.
“Baz! What the fuck?!” I yell at him. “Did you need to leave just like that?”
“SNOW! You idiot. Did you really need to fucking tackle me?”
“Yes, I did.”
“What are you doing?!”
“Don’t go.”
“What are you talking about? This is over. You don’t need me anymore.”
I was going to yell but the loudness of my words was lost when I saw his eyes and the tears he was trying to hold back. “Why? Why do you think that I don’t need you anymore?” I ask him.
“Why would you?”
“Because I… you… just…”
“Spit it out.” He yells in frustration.
“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU.” I really need to think before yelling.
He looked as shocked as he was that night I asked him to spend the trip with me. I was waiting for rejection. Complete annoyance and disgust. I am glad to be wrong sometimes.

“I love you too.”

anonymous asked:

Ok, I'm absolutely in love with your persuasion au. I didn't know how much I needed something like this until I read it. It's a treasure. Thank you SO MUCH for it! Can I ask you why do you ship rebelcaptain? as a deep question, I just want to read your thoughts about them 'cause you write so well

First, thank you for the compliment on my Persuasion AU! I’m glad you like it! And I’m going to get working on the next chapter of it now that I’ve written this 1,400+ word treatise I wrote on rebelcaptain because of your question lol.

Chemistry

Diego Luna and Felicity Jones have and had amazing chemistry as Jyn and Cassian. The eye contact, the lack of personal space, and the passion they conveyed as their characters with and without words was really impressive. Even when Jyn and Cassian were arguing and angry with one another, you got the sense that they fought as they did because the other person mattered. Their arguments are never about romance, but they were about the important basics of any relationship, romantic or platonic: truth, trust, faith, belief, and how you choose to act (or whether you choose to act at all).

But their chemistry isn’t just sexual or romantic. They also have chemistry as a battle duo. They work together well almost instantly. When she’s sporting for a fight on Jedha, he knows exactly when to pull her back. When a Partisan bomb is about to blow her to bits, he saves her—it’s not a question. On Scarif, they seem in sync the whole time from when she gives her speech to when they die together on the beach. They don’t question the other because there’s implicit trust and they seem to instinctively understand that what the other person is doing is the right or best way. They’re on the same page if you will.

Individually and Individuality

I love them as individual characters. They are my murder son and my murder daughter.
They both have defined and deep character arcs in the movie, and they grow because of it. They act as catalysts for the other for the change to come. They grow because they met each other, and they do so in the platonic sense.

Jyn’s forced herself into apathy because she’s been hurt, abandoned, and traumatized by “the cause” and the battle between the Rebels and the Empire. She lost both her parents. She was abandoned by her foster parent. She was stripped of anything that ever felt safe, that felt like home. The passion and fight intrinsic to her personality was temporarily snuffed out. She’s given so much but what has she gotten back but misery? She now only fights for herself. But meeting and knowing Cassian reawakens that passion and drive in her. The catalyst moment is when he gives her his trust on the U-wing to Jedha, and it builds from there. He pushes back against her resistance, and where others may have not cared enough to do that, he does, and that fight wakes her up again. Then he offers her a home and a family in him (and Kaytoo, Baze, Chirrut, and Bodhi). Thet cause, which has only taken from her, has given her something back. It has given her people she cares about and who care for her to fight for.

For Cassian, after 20 years of war, I think part of what traps him in this prison of his own making is that he feels like he’s fighting for abstractions now. He’s lost everything and everyone he cares about. There’s only the cause, and it’s made him do terrible things that have been cutting him into little pieces. But then he meets Jyn, and she’s not an abstraction. But it’s not love or love for her that acts as a catalyst for his change: it’s her inner fire. I think he sees in her what he used to see in himself. It reminds him of what he’s fighting for, in part, too, because he sees the tremendous losses she has also suffered at the hands of the fight. In her push to go to Scarif, she also gives him a specific way he can justify everything he has done as a soldier. And like it is for Jyn, I think Cassian finds himself now with people he cares for specifically, people for whom he fights (aka the found family he has personally collected over the course of a week).

Complementary Personalities

I like the idea of opposites attract, but I love more the idea of complementary personalities who share a lot of similarities. I think Jyn and Cassian fit this bill. They’re both orphaned child soldiers (essentially). They’re both passionate fighters. They are iron-willed, confident, resolute, and strong people. They’re different enough, though, that they can balance the other out.

They are complete people when they meet—there’s no need for one to “complete the other”; it’s rather like I argue above, that parts of them have gone dormant, and meeting each other brings them back to life; they fill in the cracks.
And they are equals. There’s no power differential. Sometimes he takes lead. Sometimes she does. They’re a team. It’s beautiful.

Intimacy

The intimacy between these two characters scrambles my brain, to be honest. The first time I saw the movie, it didn’t hit me until late (HI, ELEVATOR SCENE), but it hit me hard when it did. The intimacy in that elevator scene goddamit it—it made everything click for me. Not just the shipping but like, the wholeness of their character arcs. They are both initially cast as loners who guard themselves really closely from others—from affection, from attachment, from any ties to another living thing. But in that elevator scene, it’s all there flashing in their faces. For the first time, Jyn looks soft and lost as he stares at him in the darkened space, a whole future they won’t get to live flashing before her eyes. For him, he looks at her like she’s the only person in the galaxy that matters, and for him too, it’s colored by this sadness of what if. How long has it been since he’s been touched like this? When was the last time he had someone he could love before now?

With the idea of intimacy, too, I would argue that they both let their guard down around one another in a way they don’t with anyone else. Cassian is supposed to be this cool-headed, seasoned solider and spy, but he meets Jyn and is almost immediately running around, disobeying orders, screaming her name, saving her at all cost to his own life and to the cause. Maybe this is how he’s always felt about things, but he’s been able to push it all down before. He can’t with her. She’s triggered something in him that makes him feel. Jyn can also read him like no one else can. He’s an open book in her hands.

And for Jyn, because he’s shown her the first semblance of trust in years, the fact that he just refuses to ever leave her behind, opens her up. Even with Saw, she puts on this air of “don’t care” (“It’s not a problem if you don’t look up”). Again, the personal space issues! The touching and closeness (she touches his arm when they get the clearance to enter Scarif; she notes how he smells [of blaster oil and Eadu dirt]; elevator, beach, he’s the most beautiful person she’s ever seen etc etc.).

He makes her care about someone again because he cares for her. If you watch the scene on the beach when they hold hands—note how Jyn reaches for his hand first. But when she does, it’s tentative and unsure. He senses her hesitation and then he reaches out and takes it.
And the hug to end all hugs. I can’t even.

Unrealized potential

With most of what I ship, it’s usually the unrealized potential that sets my brain on fire. I love a good established couple (Baze and Chirrut) but because they seem to have had their happiness or their happy ending, it doesn’t tug at the heart strings as hard. I don’t actively ship because I don’t have to wonder. To quote one of my favorite shows, Veronica Mars:

Veronica: Come on. Ruined lives? Bloodshed? You really think a relationship should be that hard?

Logan: No one writes songs about the ones that come easy.

And I still contend that I’d ship them just as hard if they had survived and the ending of Rogue One hadn’t given us an explicitly romantic ending (kissing, declarations) because it would still be unrealized potential. Their deaths just make it more tragic and force more sad whale noises from my mouth.

there is the sound of distant thunder
as the wind rustles the trees
I am starting to go under
I’m getting weak in the knees
the only thing I’m thinking
is baby, baby please


don’t do that again

oh no
don’t do that again
oh no

I thought you understood me
I thought you knew my ways
the things that aren’t should be
and what is going stays

the woman down the hall
she mumbles when she prays
but she does not need a saint
just a lover maybe a friend

so baby, baby, baby
don’t do
that again

oh no
don’t do
that again
oh no

now the sun is setting
the day is almost through
but there’s something I’m forgetting
it has to do with you
I search my feeble brain
like feeble people do
I got the feeing

this may be the end
baby, baby
don’t do that again

oh no
don’t do that again
no no no
do not