my brain just does this sometimes

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.

4

Ok so. I was watching Chicken Run the other day (which is probably my favorite movie ever), and I really, really wanted to draw all the characters because they just have such quirky personality traits. But of course, I couldn’t draw them as chickens. They had to be people. 

So there’s Ginger, Rocky, Mac, Babs, and Bunty.

Gentle

Steve x reader 

Notes: Smut, fluff, swearing, just smutty rly. 

A/N: Steve x reader. I know, right? Didn’t know I had it in me (that sounds wrong. So, so wrong), but here we are. And lets be honest. The man is fucking adorable. And.. ever seen him in a suit? Hot damn. Enjoy! x

Originally posted by music-is-love-4ever

“Can’t sleep?”

You looked up from the files in your lap and smiled, Steve stood next to the couch, holding out a mug to you with a similar smile on his lips.

“Never” you answered, only half-joking and took the mug from him with a soft ‘thanks’. “Why are you up, Cap? Don’t you have an early training session with Sam tomorrow?”

Steve shrugged, “Yeah, I do..” he took a deep breath but didn’t seem to let the air go when he spoke, “but sometimes I just can’t get my brain to shut off. And my mom used to say that a bed is for sleeping, not thinking”

You chuckled softly, “Meaning?”

Steve shot you a lopsided smile, “Meaning, if you can’t catch sleep because you’re thinking too much, get out of bed for a while and try again later”

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Accountable: Arrow 5x14 Review (The Sin-Eater)

As Anatoly explained, a sin-eater is someone who consumes a ritual meal to magically take on the sins of another person, thus absolving the person and saving their soul.

Christianity has another name for this person: Jesus Christ. The son of God who died for our sins. The concept that superheroes are Christ like figures is nothing new, and is certainly one I’ve written about before. However, “The Sin- Eater” is as close as Arrow has ever come to a literal comparison.  Oliver Queen has a history of taking others’ sins upon himself. Essentially, blaming himself for their wrongs. As if somehow taking responsibility for them will save them.

If Christ died for our sins, if that action of selfless love is our salvation, then why do we ever need to be held accountable for our sins? Aren’t we already forgiven?

Sorry, but that’s just not the way it works. There is nothing we can ever do that will stop God from loving us, but that does not prevent us from seeking His mercy. Yes, Christ died for our sins, but we must be held accountable for those sins. We have to seek forgiveness. We have to desire salvation in order to truly achieve it. The door to God is always open. There’s nothing we can ever do to close it, but we still must make the choice to walk through it.

So, is Oliver Queen really saving anyone by being a sin-eater? Or maybe the better question is…  is Oliver even worthy of the title?

Let’s dig in…

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anonymous asked:

Person a tripping in the street and person b whomst is a stranger to them catches them and accidentally dips them ( like the dance thing u know)

Justin Oluransi likes to walk, and being in this city so far has been nothing but walking.

Walking from the subway to the hotel to the pharmacy back to the hotel, then to the hospital in the morning for his interview and from there to the deli for an early lunch then back to the hotel and then just - out to explore midtown.

New York City is all. walking. all. the. time. And it’s beautiful clear weather on a breezy spring midmorning.

He loves it.

It’s like a dance, weaving between the many pedestrians, pausing for cars in the street but not waiting for the signal to turn green, picking up the pace to get away from the creepy dude following too closely, and then slowing down to enjoy the atmosphere - suddenly halting to catch his breath when he turns a corner and sees the Empire State Building.

What a sight, what a rush, what a thrill! The only thing missing would be a -

“Shit!”

A man bumps into him from behind so hard he’s twisted around and Justin’s glad he’s got quick reflexes because otherwise the man would have hit the concrete with the back of his head.

Instead, Justin has an arm under his shoulders and the other hand gripping the man’s waist tight to keep him cradled against his chest.

Wide green eyes stare up at him, and for a moment Justin can’t think. Those eyes are mesmerizing - they’re beautiful, soft, sweet. Justin’s lost in them.

It takes a moment for him to register that the other man’s hands are both gripping his arm tight, fingers digging into the light fabric of his favorite salmon hoodie, and he realizes he should help the man back to his feet.

“Sorry,” Justin says, pulling him into an upright position and letting his hands linger on the other man’s biceps for a moment to make sure he can support his own weight just fine.

“Chyeah, no, please, I’m sorry, I just, uh -” The other man is fumbling for words, running his hands over himself and then reaching up to right the cap on his head. “My legs don’t always send letters of intent to my brain, so sometimes my body wants to keep a pace and my legs just like - bolt for no apparent reason and I tumble over myself like a newborn fawn and it’s not - uh..”

He finally looks up and meets Justin’s gaze and for a moment Justin thinks he might lose himself in those beautiful eyes again, but the other man seems to suddenly regain control of himself upon catching sight of him. He straightens and stands taller, pulling at the hem of his t-shirt and licking his lips.

Justin does,, not follow the movement. Nope.

The other man clears his throat. “That wasn’t very chill of me.”

Justin laughs and the other man smiles softly in response.

“That’s ok,” Justin says. And then, because this man is really beautiful and Justin has never passed up an opportunity to flirt with beautiful people, he says “I was just thinking about how walking around here is like dancing, and then you waltzed into my arms for one heck of a grand finale.”

That gets a surprised laugh and a hint of a blush creeping on his cheeks, Justin can tell.

God, this man is beautiful.

“I’m Justin,” he says, extending his hand forward.

“Derek,” the other man - Derek - says.

When their palms meet Justin has to will himself not to stare at the way they fit in each other so well, or how they look clasped like that, or how long Derek’s fingers are.

“So uh,” Derek says, pulling his hand away but letting his fingers trail along Justin’s just slightly. “You pick up dance partners on 6th Av often?”

“Shit, is that the street this is? I thought I was on Broadway?”

He has to look around for a second, because if he got lost he has no idea how he’s gonna get back to the hotel and he cant handle being lost right now.

But Derek’s easy laugh flows over him, as does his gentle touch on his shoulder to draw Justin’s attention back to him.

“Yeah, Broadway’s right here. It just intersects here, see.” He’s pointing out all the street signs around them. “You probably just walked one block this way without realizing.”

“God, I’m such a tourist.”

Derek laughs again, and Justin loves how it sounds. “That’s alright, so’s everyone else.”

“You’re not from here either?”

“Oh no, I was born and raised on the Upper East Side. But everyone’s a tourist in this city bro, even the locals. Tourism is a state of mind.”

Justin lets that hover in the air for a moment. He watches Derek’s face and the way he seems so much more collected now, so much more in control and - chill.

“I’d love to have a five hour conversation with you about that one sentence.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.” Justin revels in the curious look adorning Derek’s face and asks “Where can we get coffee and talk into the sunset?”

Derek smirks and Justin can feel in his bones that he is not going to make the flight home tonight.

But that’s ok, maybe he won’t go home. Maybe he’ll stay in this city, take that position at the hospital, and maybe… maybe he’ll have Derek show him around in the meantime.

maladaptive daydreaming…. isn’t just making up cute scenarios on long car rides… it’s stopping to do whatever you are doing because your brain just had an idea and then walking around the house, throwing a pen around, thinking until your mom gets annoyed with you

and, boy, does my mom get so annoyed because i just can’t stop pacing. sometimes i have to actually run back and forth because my it just stimulates my thoughts. how many times has she just shouted at me to stop. i calm down for a moment, then i’m up and running around five minutes later… again.  moving vehicles give me peace because the car or train or whatever is doing the movement for me. and i really need to move

i just go into this whole another world and i can’t really stop it. i can’t really spend a moment without thinking what this and that character would do in this and that situation. i can’t process my feelings without projecting them to some made-up person. sometimes i have to mimic the gestures of the character i’m thinking about. sometimes it happens in the middle of the street. sometimes people might stare.

and i can’t stop running around or carrying small things, like pencils. 

and it’s not awesome at all. it annoys the heck out of people around me (expect maybe my brother). i always have to explain to my friends why i suddenly jump up from my chair and run across the room. i do it without realizing it. and it is really hard to explain. and falling asleep is also tough since every ten minutes and seem to sprint out of my bed because my brain gets excited about a made-up scenario.

thinks of all time i waste just… fucking daydreaming.

if you call yourself a maladaptive daydreamer for thinking about fictional characters much… well, knock yourself out, but think for a moment how bad it can be for others. and this thing is not taken seriously at all. my mom definitely doesn’t. 

anyone who’s experiencing this, writing might help. too bad i have too many thoughts and can’t write them all down. and new scenarios surface every day.

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.

Newsies  {Sentence Starters}

  • “You smell foul.”
  • “It’s a good idea!”
  • “I don’t understand you.”
  • “Are you out of your mind?”
  • “Stop thinking about yourself.”
  • “Then what does that make you?”
  • “So? What you wanna do about it?” 
  • “I can’t spend my whole life hiding.”
  • “You didn’t even tell me your real name!”
  • “You’re a liar! You lied about everything.”
  • “Well, I guess I can’t be something I ain’t.”
  • “For a dreamer, night’s the only time of day.”
  • “How do I know you got what it takes to win?”
  • “You know, I can’t afford to be a kid no more.”
  • “Will you please get your fingers off my face?”
  • “It ain’t lying. It’s just improving the truth a little.”
  • “Yeah, so they told me. But what’d they tell you?”
  • “It’s just me, I gotta look out for myself, all right?”
  • “Where’s my picture? Where does it mention me?”
  • “Either we stand or we fall, for once, once and for all!”
  • “Anyone who doesn’t act in their own self interest is a fool.”
  • “Yeah, he was here, but he put an egg in his shoe and beat it.”
  • “That’s good, because we don’t need you! We don’t need you!!”
  • “But you can’t let ‘em beat you, right? That’s what you always said.”
  • “There’s a lot of people out there, and they ain’t just gonna go away.”
  • “It’s this brain of mine, it’s always making mistakes. It’s got a mind of its own.”
  • “Sometimes all it takes is a voice. One voice that becomes a hundred, then a thousand… unless it’s silenced.”

i feel like i just figured out a lifehack for my brain somewhat

so i struggle with getting up and doing things sometimes, to the point where stuff kinda builds up and gets overwhelming (imagine ur hungry, no clean dishes, garbage is full, kitchen is dirty, no clean clothes and out of soap for everything and u havent slept yet and stores are almost closed, it happens occasionally)

but i keep thinking if i can just get up and do one thing little by little i can eventually do all the things, but this is very hard

i tried setting myself a timer as in a “in 20 minutes go do thing” but i end up spacing out

anyways discovered a thing that is like a timer buit isnt a timer and it works for some reason n very very easy to do so doesnt feel like a task in of itself

I boil some water in my electric kettle and tell myself “do as many things as you can before the water is fully boiled” theres no chunk of time associated with that task, but it does take a bit for it to click and before my brain can figure out whats going on and stop me whoops i just cleaned half dishes and boiled some water go me!

then i just repeat until everything i need to do is done

i dont know why this works, maybe because my brain cant associate boiling water with an inherent chunk of time like “in 20 minutes do this” or “at 7pm do thing” but it works so woohoo brain hack!

often times my mouth doesn’t move as fast as my brain does, so I either end up pausing to think for long periods of time in the middle of a sentence or I end up jumbling words and stuttering as a result (this is a common symptom of ADHD)

and I want people with and without ADHD to understand this

so shout out to all my fellow peeps with ADHD or ADD

you’re not stupid

you’re not weird

just take a breath and know your brain is literally so full and smart and working that your body just has a hard time keeping up sometimes.

Since everybody loves bringing up what I said about Mental illness and racism

-People with Turrets Syndrome may have tics that involve shouting expletives. Sometimes, by no choice of their own, the expletive is a slur of some sort. They cant stop it anymore than you could stop a hiccup. THAT DOES NOT MAKE THEM A RACIST PERSON!!

-People with Echolia/OCD/Autism can get a word stuck in their head/stuck saying something out loud on a loop. The more the thing is something they dont want to think/say, the stronger the compulsion grows (the “dont think of a pink elephant” phenomenon). Sometimes that phrase will be a curse word, or slur (which your brain stores in the same vocabulary slot as swear words). THAT DOES NOT MAKE THEM A RACIST PERSON.

People who experience delusions/paranoia may have a delusion that involve an immediately visible physical trait (“Everybody in a red shirt hates me” “Everybody with blonde hair is carrying a gun” “All the females in this building are pregnant with my offspring”). Sometimes that trait will be skin color, or dialect/accents, or something else associated with race. Nobody picks their delusions. THIS DOES NOT MAKE THEM A RACIST PERSON

Like its not black and white, there are literally conditions where you DO NOT HAVE CONTROL of your voice/brain. You dont get to pick how your brain malfunctions. You cannot judge somebody’s politics or personality by phenomenon that they have no control over.

“A mentally ill person’s tics/delusions is not a reliable representation of them as a person” shouldn’t be a controversial statement in 2017. Just say you only support mentally ill people with cute/benign/quirky symptoms and save yourself the typing.

@radfem-gossip

anonymous asked:

does anyone on the SMH team get migraines? What does a bad migraine day look like? (i just got over the actual worst migraine ever still a bit dead but I can look at my screen now)

YES my boy rans gets stress migraines periodically. when he was little it was worse, and sometimes he would stay home from school bc “momma it feels like my brain is screaming.”

bad migraine days for rans look like: hours spent with his blackout curtains drawn, all lights off, head under the covers bc light Hurts. counting down the minutes until he can take another dose of excedrin. 10 mugs full of hot tea with honey and milk. being so bored (bc no tv, no music, no computer) he wants to just go to sleep, but he can’t bc his head hurts so bad. sitting in a bath so hot he can barely stand it until the water goes lukewarm. holster texting “keep it down in the haus today plz ranzy has a migraine” to the groupchat and then curling around him in the bed silently. finally falling asleep and praying that it’s better in the morning. the next

Remedy (2)

Bucky x reader

Bucky’s POV.

Notes: trigger warnings! Implications of sexual abuse, mentions of torture, swearing, injuries, cute-ass Bucky who knows exactly how to be sweet and careful.

(Taglist is closed! It wont let me add more. Sorry!)

Originally posted by pxggycxrters

Remedy (1)

It took a good hour until all her wounds were tended to. Bruce had a pained expression on his face the entire time he was attending to her, probably unwillingly imagining the grim images of what was done to her, just as I had been doing.

“She seems to be fixated on you” Bruce said as he disposed of his latex gloves. “she trusts you; for as far as she can trust anyone”

I sighed, biting my lower lip, a nervous tick that I can’t seem to get rid of. “I noticed. What am I supposed to do with that?”

“I know it’s inconvenient, but you’re gonna have to be the one to take care of her. If she’s ever going to speak, it’ll be with you” Bruce said matter-of-factly.

“It’s not inconvenient” I said all too quickly. “I just..” another sigh left me, “I’m not good at this kind of thing”

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Saeran Fanfiction #4: Sound Asleep

It was one of those nights again.

In your dream, you were on a boat, roughing it out on a stormy sea. The night sky was illuminated by sudden flashes of lightning, the turbulent waves beneath you rocking the boat and tossing you about like a rag doll along the wooden boards.

The moment you registered pain course through your side as you hit the ground, your eyes would fly open, and then you were no longer on a boat, nor were you lost at sea. You were back in your room, covered in a blanket of darkness. And you were shaking.

Except it wasn’t you. It was someone else. Someone hugging your body tightly, trembling like an earthquake was tearing through his body, his ragged pants the wild cries of a hurricane as it ripped through his chest and eroded at the fragments of sanity that remained in his glass head. A tsunami of tears was pouring from his eyes, gushing onto your clothes along with cold perspiration that streaked his cheeks and neck.

Your hip and shoulder hurt from where you had collided with the ground when you fell off the bed with him, and you were a mess of tangled limbs and blanket that had nearly been dragged off from the bed with the both of you. He seemed to have woken up now, his vice-like grip starting to soften as he pulled away from you, his frame still shaking, hidden in the shadows.

“S-Sorry…” you heard him say in a mess of incoherent sobbing. He hastily got to his feet to get to the door, but he tripped on the blanket as he did so, and ended up tumbling down onto the floor again with a groan mixed with a feral cry.

The pain that you registered initially was quick to fade as you felt a more intense pain grow in your chest. The back of your throat constricted and you couldn’t bear to make a sound as you wrapped your arms around him and pulled his head against your chest.

He didn’t move. He couldn’t. All he could do was make a strangled sound in the back of his throat as he attempted one final time to hold himself back, before finally releasing it all.

It was an anguished howl, like that of a beast in a cage, longing to break free.

You waited, holding him in your arms, biting down on your lip as you allowed the tears to quietly slip down your face. It fell with a soft pitter-patter on his messy red hair, like rain in a fiery hot desert. You waited as he released his pain through the river of tears and hoarse screams leaving his open mouth, as he fought against the shadows of nightmares and memories that were clawing at him, threatening to overwhelm him all at once.

“You’re not there, Saeran. You’re here. I’m here. And we’re safe.” You repeated that like a prayer, whispering it in his ears like a lullaby, rubbing your hands up and down his back as he hiccuped and choked on his tears. It was difficult to keep the trembling from showing in your voice, but you had to do it. For him. You had to be strong for him.

“She… She was there. With the ropes. And the syringes. They’re coming an– NO, DON’T!” he screamed. “DON’T GET NEAR ME, STAY AWAY! AWAY! DON’T LET THEM– I’ll be good, I’ll be good, I promise, so please– Please hyung, please, save me… Please…”

“She can’t hurt you anymore,” you spoke, struggling to suppress your sob now as you squeezed him tighter in your arms. “No one can hurt you again. Your hyung is here, in the other room. MC is there as well. And you have the RFA behind you. We’re your family now, and we won’t ever let anything happen to you, okay?”

“S-She… She was there…” he murmured.

“She’s gone now. And I’m here. I… I promised I wouldn’t let you get hurt again. So please, don’t be scared anymore. You don’t have to be.”

“R-Really?” His voice was muffled against your shirt, and you felt relief course through you when he started to calm down, his breathing becoming more regular now and his shaking beginning to ease up. “I don’t have to be scared..?”

“I’ll protect you,” you assured him. “We’ll all protect you, and we’ll make sure that no one can hurt you again. I promise.”

“Promises… Can I trust them..?”

“I promised I would love you,” you said, pausing as you choked back a sob. “Even- Even if the sun dies and the sky falls and the clouds disappear forever, I’ll still love you. I love you, Saeran. So does your brother and MC. We’re together now. So don’t be afraid of a nightmare, because we’re real. This,” you cupped his cheeks, pulling his head away from your chest so you could look at him in the eyes. “is real.”

His eyes were bloodshot and he could barely open them now. His nose was red, and a mix of snot and tears ran down his lips, dripping down his chin steadily. Leaning in, you brushed your lips against his, kissing him softly and tasting salt on your lips. He couldn’t move for a moment, seemingly unsure of how to react.

The moment he regained his senses, he was like a wolf, hungrily devouring your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His groans were primal, his hands clawing at your clothes, arms, legs, as if trying to make sure that you were real. He pushed his weight against you, knocking your head against the side of the bed as he pressed up against your body and slanted his head so he could slip his tongue in deeper, glide it sensually along the roof of your mouth.

The rustling of your clothes as he roughly pulled at them and the heat dancing in between your bodies reminded you of summer, and the ice cold on his fingers, of winter. That was essentially what he was; Saeran was a binary. In him dwelled two people: one a man who bore scars that kept him from trusting people, and the other an innocent boy who yearned nothing more than the company and comfort of others.

The air was stuffy, your hot breaths mingling with each other’s as he pulled your naked body flush against his. Soft pants gradually morphed into moans, muffled whenever he grabbed you by the nape of your neck and crashed your lips against his. He would muffle his own groans by resting his forehead against the mattress of the bed while biting into your shoulder, hard enough to make you cry out. Hopefully not loud enough that your neighbours would wake up.

And then you were both moving in tandem, rhythmic thrusts making you claw at his back while whispering his name feverishly. Your thoughts became fragments, and your words became a jumbled mess, mixed with “Ahh”s and “Ohh”s while he moved and took you there, in a mess of blanket and limbs on the floor.

It wasn’t long before the both of you reached your peak, both stilling, freezing in place as you came undone and felt him do the same inside of you.

And then the cries were no more. Just harsh breathing that began to slow down in the peaceful night. You held each other quietly, listening to each other’s breathing, feeling each other’s heart beat. Chest to chest, heart to heart. A steady drum pulsing through your hot, sensitive skins.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured against your ear at last, his hot breath tickling you. “Did it hurt when you fell off?”

You shook your head, sighing as you ran your fingers affectionately through his hair. “It’s fine. Don’t be sorry. You just… need more time. And I’ll wait for as long as you need to. Just don’t ever forget that I’m right here, fighting this together with you, okay? You’re not alone anymore.”

He pulled away then, his golden eyes shining in the dim moonlight streaming through the translucent curtains. They were moist, glossed over as he nodded, sniffling once more and you brushed your thumb just below his eye as one more tear slipped out.

“You’ll stay with me? This broken, pathetic mess of a person?” he asked.

“Always,” you smiled, as a tear glided down your own cheek, your chest swelling with adoration and hurt for this beautiful man. He was broken, yes, a man just starting to accept the pieces of him that he was trying to glue back together again. There were cracks, scars, that would never disappear, but you loved him nonetheless. He was strong, far stronger than he thought he was.

You leaned in to plant a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. “I said it just now: even if the sun dies and the sky falls and the clouds disappear, I’ll never stop loving you. I’ll never leave your side, I promise.”

“Okay,” he nodded, resting his forehead against yours and closing his eyes as he heaved a small sigh. That was good enough for him. “I trust you.”

And with those three words, the both of you shared one more kiss before getting back on the bed, listening to each other’s breathing until you fell sound asleep again.




A/N: This… was supposed to be innocent angst fluff but whoa how did that turn into lime-ish smut??? Does this even count as smut? I just felt like writing something based on the song “Little Do You Know” by Alex and Sierra but… how did this happen??? I don’t understand my brain sometimes…

Recharge is a good episode

In which I do not know how to shut the fuck up. I’m sure this episode has been rehashed hundreds of times but guess what y’all get my view on it now. This is what you get for accepting me into the fandom. This is over 2300 words. Fear me.

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Fantasize

Prompt: You accidentally butt dial Dolph while you’re masturbating and leave a voicemail on his phone of you moaning and saying his name. Before you can stop him, he listens to it. Anon.

@lip-sync @emmarablack @lunaticfringe216 @amberhere-hi @thatonegirloncealways @queenreignsempire @debeauxmots @kittencutie245 @ilovesamizaynn @banrioncethlenn @screamersdontdance @redalternativefirefly @filthy-parade @welshwitch5 @nickysmum1909 @msgem @uberduber-loulou @cutester @charlitflair @harleyquinnnikki @lclb12 @imagines–assemble @wrasslin-rollins @xenofi@daywalker666 @heilisk @racheo91

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I pray that you don’t realise what a huge mistake you’ve made and come back to me because you’re not good for me, you’re toxic and I know that. Well, my brain does at least, my heart is still trying to accept it.

I know if I let you in again you would ruin me, just like you did last time and I honestly don’t know if I could go through all the pain and hurt you caused me again and end up okay because it’s been months and I’m still recovering from what you done to me and I still cry about you sometimes but day by day I’m getting stronger, it’s taken me a long time to accept that you didn’t really love me, you just didn’t want to be alone so please don’t try to come back into my life when we both know that you’ll just leave again when someone better comes along.

—  I’m terrified because if you knocked on my door I know I wouldn’t have the strength to turn you away.
Dyslexic Lance headcanons

by the way, did i mention i headcanon Lance as being dyslexic as heck? because i do. here we go

(these may or may not be based off my own experiences tbh)

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