oh god this was hard to make

So, if some of you remember, this is my old cat Sunshine. He didn’t live long because the vet we had before hand sucked.

But, that aside. I have a video of him eating cat food outside on the porch, and a slug comes up and starts eating with him.

It makes me laugh so hard, especially the ideas that came to mind with Namekians.

Like, I started picturing them eating bowls of cat food like it was cereal to them.

Worse… Piccolo being at the Bulma’s family home and he’s eating food from their cat’s bowl.

Oh…my…GOD.

syntaxeme  asked:

Okay so imagine. A 2A Sapphire trying really hard to tell a joke and she's just completely flopping, can't remember how it goes, oh god help her But Ruby is doing the 1D thing really hard to try to make her feel better like HOLY SHIT THAT'S HILARIOUS

and then they fuse into Garnet

Be More Chill Characters as Explained By My 23 yr Old Brother

He was shown a few pictures and has minimal knowledge of the plot and characters. The result was beautiful.

JEREMY: This… this Where’s Waldo looking twink. He has a desk in an overhead light so he’s probably somewhat important. He’s lonely because all of his friends are gay and he’s not– until the end. He’s gay for the other guy at the end. Probably looks up Dear Evan Hansen fan fiction– Im like 80% sure. He wishes his life were more than just lamenting over his waifus.

SQUIP: Oh god where is his arm- is this one Michael? He’s coming onto that other guy hard so that has to be Michael. -picture switched- oh no that’s the villain- thats a fucking villain pose. That’s a batman villain looking out over his henchman, this robby rotten motherfucker. That’s the drug? He’s like Tim Curry from Fern Gully but instead of pollution he makes people gay and horny.

MICHAEL: Shit his lips are so pink- if that isn’t a main focus or an arch this is written wrong. He’s gay, so I assume this one is Michael and he’s perfect and everyone loves him. He’s essentially the gay guy from Scott Pilgrim and he’s all of the fanfic author’s fantasies come true.

CHRISTINE: Generically sweet– wait this was written by a man, right? Yeah- Then yeah, generically nice. I’m split between “is the voice of reason” and “gets super corrupted by drug and thats the breaking point”  

RICH: I assume he’s a bit dorky. He’s Trying to stand out to impress sexy gym people and gets fucked up because of it.

JAKE: This guy- This fucking Disney Channel protagonist– he pretends to have sex with all the girls so hard it breaks his legs, but he really broke them because of little buff man. He’s the sexy gym people.

CHLOE: Brunette is popular- very very bi. Bitchy heathers vibe. probably a love interest

BROOKE: Also bi. She’s supportive and probably talks the other one into doing shit like “Hey wanna make out?” They do because Tumblr would love that.

Beat    are they sisters    No they’re best-    oh thank god

JENNA: She’s the pop culture bitch that makes a bunch of references and doesn’t leave you alone. enough said.


Bonus-

in response to the picture of squipped Jake: Jock who fucked tiny buff guy is scaring other couple because they are gayer. He is high on the robby rotten tic tac. Gay couple is terrified – but mystified – by crutch flight power up.

and then there was me, a queer girl in the catholic church with traditional parents. i grew up with a fingernail caught in my throat. i changed the words to songs so i’d be singing about boys. i was scared of “gay”. my mother told me it meant happy but i knew it meant being pushed to the floor of the bus. i remember my bible school teacher telling us that the greatest sin a woman can have is not giving a man her love. i remember realizing i liked girls and putting it in a box i labelled dirty and couldn’t bring myself to touch. when i came out i had to ask if my parents still loved me, like the idea of their acceptance ended where my sexuality began. they pull back when i accidentally slip and admit i like a girl. they promise the church doesn’t hate us, just doesn’t let us get married under god’s roof with god present. oh it’s a fine marriage, we accept it, but technically in the eyes of the church i’m living in sin. it would be better if i liked men. when i was 7 i was sure i was going to unhappily marry a man just to make my parents happy. at 23 i might marry a man just to make my parents happy.

god was this hard thing we couldn’t figure out how to handle. god came beyond the doors of the church. my god answered me at night but reminded me to cower. my god killed my brothers and sisters in the hands of others. how am i to reconcile that god that felt like love and belonging with the god called down in conversion camps. how am i to say i love the light of god when i have seen it burn the flesh of others.

i watch it still. for a while i was spitting and hissing and wouldn’t let god near me. i think it was better then, when i had shut my doors to the idea of it. once i tried to find god again i found myself desperately lost in the forest.

i was always so alone in church. always different. it wasn’t until i mentioned it once in an online chat that i found someone else who had gone through the same thing. how terrible, to form a community of people who have all been cast out. how powerful.

we, together, discussing at two a.m if god is real and if she is where she begins and ends. my brothers and sisters and family - we are all so strong for having survived this. for having been spat out by what should have accepted us. that first community. that first slap. the book that taught us not all books are homes. the book that i spent hours combing over looking for where my flaws were entombed. that curse that keeps following us, doggedly, just when we thought we shook it off - watching others take god as an excuse to punish us, to put into law our discrimination, to enact and enforce violence against us. “god loves you,” we were told. is this what god looks like? our first relationship with abuse?

i am stuck with an eternity of questions. can we find our own god? can we find her in each other? do we leave god entirely, and just find love in the stories of us lost lambs? is god worth it? was the word of god really to ruin us? is god even to blame for any of this, or is this how humans are when they find something to hit? 

all i know is this: i am not alone. and if you’re like me, come to me. talk. i’ll listen. god only knows nobody else did.

OH MY GOD 15 MILLION??? THATS INSANE

Let me start off by saying congratulations on 15 FREAKING MILLION SUBSCRIBERS @therealjacksepticeye YOUVE WORKED SO HARD AND YOU DESERVE SO MUCH MORE YOU REALLY DO

HOW LONG HAVE I BEEN WATCHING YOU I CANT EVEN ANSWER THAT i cant even say how much i want to thank you. Youve played such a large role in my life when times were shitty and nothing made me happy, i would just watch your videos and find myself giggling and even full blown laughter! 

I love how you keep in touch with your viewers when you make videos that discusses your opinions or your feelings and even your regular videos, you still show that youre you and youre not afraid of expressing that. 

You make ALL OF US AND I MEAN ALL OF US WHO WATCH YOU so happy even if you dont think you are. We all watch your videos and find so much joy in every second of them. We cant thank you enough for being a part of our lives and making them worth living. Even if you dont think youre doing anything, just being you and making these videos for US, youre bringing us all together. We’re so happy to watch your videos and thank you for bringing us so much happiness Jack. WE LOVE YOU!

UH OH LOOKS LIKE WE’VE GOT A HYDRA FAN

andarthas-webreplied to your post:[Captain America (2011-2012) #1]“Got solid intel…

*facepalms* Painfully obvious none of you read the comics and are making snap judgements based on incomplete info. Also, you couldn’t tell a nazi from a fascist and a hero from a villain if your life depended on it….

Okay. Wow. I can’t believe we’re here. I’m savoring this moment hold on. Let me breathe it in. Let me just lap it up. I have to feel the grace of God come over me so I don’t school yo ass too hard. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh

Okay

Yup. First off, you…. commented on a screencap of me reading the comic. That I own. That I can take screencaps of. That is in my library. On Comixology. That I paid for. Since most of my library, y’know this one

pales in comparison to the one I’m used to having since I moved across the country and don’t have access to the accumulative collection of mine, my dad’s, and my sister’s. Y’know. The one that has comics dating back to first printings in the 60s. But whatever.

What do I have on Comixology at this point?

Oh right. 2634, most of which are trade collections. And that’s not counting the hundreds of issues I have in the archive because I’ve already used them on my comic book reference blog @renaramblesaboutcomics​. Y’know. Where I’m hosting my comic reviews and live reads I’ve been doing on tumblr since 2011.

But you’re riiiiiight. Maybe I don’t have the reference for Cap. Gosh darnit I’m just such a newb. What the fuck’s wrong with me, commenting on Cap comics I don’t know shit about.

Ohhhhhhhh right. I just own the whole fucking run you’re referring to. Right right. Not to mention I have read the Ultimate comics, the Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale Captain America: White, the Sam Wilson Cap comic before Spencer lost his goddamn mind, and a couple dozen more not to mention the Avengers comics I own, the Spider-Man guest appearances, the X-Men guest appearances, the guest appearances in Captain and Ms. Marvel books, and all those other comics that feature him.

My bad. Looks like you’re full of shit. And I’m an actual Cap Fan. Uh oh.

Looks like you’re in trouble.

But I have to close out with one more thing:

Okay I’ll stay away from the obvious answer which is that you…. apparently know that the National Socialist Movement in 1930s Germany was …. fascist. But that’s okay. (It’s actually not, it just shows you’re fucking ridiculous)

The thing is you’re accusing me of not being able to recognize either. So let me introduce you to someone I’m pretty sure knows Nazis when she sees them.

Hi. I’m Renaroo. I run this blog, also @renaramblesaboutcomics​. Along with being a lifetime comic book fan,the daughter of comic book fans, and the granddaughter of comic book fans, I’m something else that you would know if you wandered around my blog any:

I’m German-American. Specifically I’m only the second generation of Americans in my family. My family came over from post-Nazi Germany in 1950. Specifically I have to thank this little woman in the middle:

That’s my grandma. Actually she’s all of our Grandma – We’re now a family of Italian-German-Americans,l Mexican-Americans, Polish-German Americans, and (my sister and I) Appalachian-German-Americans.

My Grandma just turned 78 this year and in her lifetime she lived through, you guessed it, World War II and Nazi Germany. In fact, she lost her father in the war – my great-grandfather.

She was also as a young child mauled and attacked by an SS German police dog, which she has scars on her arms from. They’re next to the scars she got from her time as a welder in a metal shop in Akron, Ohio during the rubber boom, but that’s less relevant.

This 4′9″ woman has taught me many things over the years. She helped raise my sister and me. And some of things she, and my great-grandmother before she died at the age of 98, would talk to us about was living under a fascist dictatorship and how that place was called…

wait for it…

Nazi Germany.

So, yes. I know what Nazis are. I know what fascists are. If I didn’t, I could call up my comic book collecting dad who is also a history professor, and get him to explain it to us, but I’m pretty sure I don’t have to.

Why?

Because before slow roasting you over a fire, I guess I could’ve pointed out this. It’s sometimes hard to find so I don’t really blame you for not having read it yourself. I’m not an asshole comic book fan who lords that sort of thing over people

But here’s Captain America (1941-1950) #1:

[Captain America (1940-1941) #1]

Oh wow look it’’s Red Skull’s first appearance. What’s that he’s wearing on his chest? Why doesn’t he know he leads HYDRA? Not Nazis. That’s so weird I wonder what the two have in common…

P.S. @andarthas-web​, in case it’s not obviously apparent from the entirety of this post you enabled by trying smear shit on my original post: You’re a fucking idiot.

One foot in the grave

From the age of two Lance never stopped moving.
He would crawl through his house making it impossible to keep track of him.
However it was nothing compared to what he was like when he learned how to walk.
Soon as he could stand on his own two feet he was gone.
He would run through the garden chasing birds.
He would run to his classes in school.
He would run to the store.
He would run across the road.
Without looking both ways.
He would run straight into the path of a truck.
While he was lying in the hospital bed with his legs shattered all the doctors would tell him was how lucky he was to be alive.
For a while Lance thought that his luck would also save his legs.
But it wasn’t to be.
The doctors did all they could, using pins to try and fuse the bones back together.
However after only two days infection had set in and they had no choice but to amputate the first leg.
The second came a week later after it became clear that the bone just wasn’t fusing back together.
For months Lance was trapped in a chair, healing and waiting.
He never cried though. If he cried then his mama would cry.
Lance wouldn’t have his mama crying because of him.
When he finally got prosthetics it wasn’t what he had been hoping for.
It was a long painful process full of disappointment and failure before he could walk again.
And an even longer time before he could run again.
However Lance was determined and never gave up.
By time he moved to a new high school no one could tell he was missing both legs.

Lance was walking home from class grumbling to himself. He was pretty annoyed that his best friend Hunk had decided that he would prefer to hang out with Pidge then him.
Well not decided more like had to do he wouldn’t fail the project they were working on.
But Lance felt like being petty.
It had been raining that day, the humidity made his stumps painful which made him irritated.
To make things worse he had no choice but to walk home in the rain since his car had gone and died on him that morning.
Lance was so busy wallowing in self pity that he didn’t even notice he was about to walk into someone.
He managed to walk straight into a figure huddled inside their jacket causing the two of them to fall to the ground with a thud.
“What the hell man!” Lance yelled before stopping when he realised who he had just walked into.
Keith glared at him the rain plastering his dark hair to his face “not my fault! You walked into me!”
“Yeah well your still a jerk! You park in the handicapped space yesterday at the mall!” Lance yelled pointing at him accusingly.
“Why the hell do you care where I park! It was like 4am and it wasn’t like anyone needed it!” Keith snapped getting to his feet and trying to brush some of the water away.
“You didn’t kno-” Lance had tried to stand but when he was halfway up a cracking sound echoed around the empty campus and he went flying forwards right into Keith who caught him out of pure instinct.
Keith’s anger quickly turned to concern and nausea at the sight of the unnatural angle the lower half of Lance’s leg was now bent.
“Oh my god! Shit I’ll call an ambulance!” Keith stuttered as he carefully lowered Lance to the floor and looked for his phone only to find it cracked and unresponsive.
“D-don’t worry I’ll erm I’ll… why are you laughing?”
Lance was laughing hard as he watched Keith’s panicked actions.
“Relax dude I’m fine. See” he grabbed his foot and pulled making Keith have to fight the urge to throw up as it came away in his hand.
“See just plastic.”
Keith’s eyes widened at the sight of the prosthetic. He had no idea that Lance, the over confident narcissistic pretty boy was a amputee.
Suddenly him getting upset about Keith taking the handicapped spot makes much more sense.
“Shit… I’m sorry.”
Lance shrugged, “nah you were right it wasn’t your fault. But erm if your still riding the guilt train I could use a ride? I mean if you don’t mind.” He looked away blushing and Keith couldn’t help but smile.
“Yeah sure.”
He didn’t wait for permission, instead he simply scooped Lance up princess style and walked him to his car, a small beat up red thing that could almost pass for home made with all the repairs done to it.
“H-hey I don’t need carrying!” Lance’s blush deepened as he wrapped his arms around Keith’s neck for stability only. Or at least that’s what he told himself.
“It’s quicker then you just hopping along.” Keith shrugged as he deposited Lance in the passenger seat and took his place behind the wheel.
“Still dude. It’s humiliating. Bad enough you know about my legs.”
Keith rose and eyebrow as he pulled out of the parking lot. “I only knew about one of them.”
“Fuck…” Lance hissed under his breath.
Keith couldn’t help but chuckle quietly at that.
“Man I really am an idiot, can you keep this between us… it’s just I’d prefer everyone not to know.”
Lance sounded so small and vulnerable in that moment that Keith glanced over to check that it really was the same obnoxious guy he knew from school.
“Look I promise I won’t tell anyone… but maybe you should.”
“What would you know about this?” Lance huffed crossing his arms.
“More then you would expect, my brother Shiro lost his arm and he was suffering in silence for a long time. I just don’t want you to do the same.”
Keith glanced over at Lance to see him looking very embarrassed.
Keith’s eyes widened “b-by that I mean anyone in your situation not j-just you specifically!” He rambled on quickly.
Lance laughed that strong joy filled laugh of his That always seems to light up the room. “It’s cool man. I knew what you meant.”
They pulled up outside Lance’s home and Keith offered his shoulder for support this time rarther then carrying him in.
After ringing the bell and waiting on the door step Lance looked up at Keith. “Hey Keith.”
“Yeah Lance?”
“Thanks.”
Lance kissed him on the cheek just as the door opened and Lance launched himself on his older brother closing the door behind him.
Leaving a very confused, very wet but also very very VERY happy Keith standing outside.

You’re His Ex Girlfriend and You See His New Girlfriend Wearing Your T-Shirt: Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

Masterlist linked in bio


If she closes her eyes hard enough, and just at the right moments, Y/n can feel Harry in Dan.

It’s quite peculiar, how she finds Harry in almost anything. It’s something she finds so riveting yet so dangerous at the same time. He’s everywhere, he’s in every breath she takes and in every move she makes, and it’s something that brings her an overwhelming sense of comfort yet an overbearing sense of instability.

Dan—an individual full of insecurities and excitement—who varies oh, so differently from Harry, can feel like him if she really tries hard enough. His arms don’t hold her quite the same, and his lips aren’t as soft and flavorful, but if she squeezes her eyes shut, and she loses herself in the memories of Harry, it’s like he’s almost back again—only in the most minuscule of ways.

Which is why, now, in this moment in time, Y/n can barely keep her eyes open.

It’s the first time Y/n brought Dan to the house, letting him stop by to watch a film after his shift. It’s a little something he’s wanted to do for a while, and after many coffee dates and many pleads from Dan, she finally took the step of being completely alone with him.

Gabby decided to go to a friends house and insisted they take their time together. It started off wonderfully; a bottle of red wine, a box of chocolates, and a bag of popcorn while they watched Jaws.

It was all wonderful, until Dan decided to make the move.

Dan is on top of her, lips connecting to hers in a lustful motion. It isn’t that Y/n doesn’t want to be in this position, but more of her being hesitant to do so. She hasn’t kissed anybody since Harry, and although Dan is one of the nicest people she’s ever met, she can’t find it within herself to keep moving any more forward.

And everything about it feels wrong.

Between all the touching, all the kissing, all the feelings within her, she can’t stop thinking about Harry. She can’t stop thinking about how much she misses him and how much she wants him back. She’s still in love with him, so much so that doing this with someone else makes her feel dirty—makes her feel like she’s betraying him.

And it’s all too much, because no matter how hard she closes her eyes, no matter how hard she tries to feel him, he’s not there, and she can’t help but seem to think that he never will be—not anymore.

“No, no, stop.” She whimpers, shaking her head in an attempt to reject Dan’s restless lips.

He doesn’t stop, however, too engaged in the moment to really understand the words stuttering from her mouth. He continues kissing her, instead, moving down to her collarbones.

At this point, Y/n starts to hyperventilate. Between the sobs daring to escape her chest and the lack of air from her previous activities, everything is straining against her. She doesn’t fully understand how she was able to get this far without it being with Harry.

“Stop!”

Her arms push Dan off of her until she’s alone on the couch as he’s panting on the floor. She can’t breathe. Her chest is tightening and her cries are so harsh that her lungs are collapsing inside of her.

She reaches her hands up to the roots of her hair, pulling back on them as she tries to gather all the oxygen she can. At this point, her head feels light and her sight is completely blurred by the tears flowing out of them—ones that she doesn’t even try to stop.

“I’m s—so sor—ry.” She hiccups, her head falling to her hands.

Dan gulps as he tentatively stands from his spot on the floor, his hands up in front of him as if in a panic—trying desperately to figure out how to fix the mess being made in front of him.

He looks around the room, as if in search for something to guide him through this situation, but there’s nothing. All the room occupies is a broken woman, sobbing breathlessly on a couch in front of him, muttering incoherent phrases under her breath.

“Okay,” he huffs out, nodding his head to himself, “It’s okay, yeah? You’re okay?”

He occupies the empty spot next to her, hesitantly wrapping an arm around her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. In all honesty, Dan is complete shit at helping people during emotional breakdowns, and considering this one had happened so suddenly, he had absolutely no warning that he would be put in this position.

Y/n feels bad, she does, considering Dan doesn’t deserve the treatment she’s given him and surely doesn’t deserve what was once an innocent date to end up a complete disaster. But she can’t help it, and she can’t stop now, no matter how hard she tries.

“It’s Harry, isn’t it?”

His voice is nothing but a whisper, and the words that spoke out from his lips nearly brings every movement in Y/n’s body to a halt. She never told him that it was Harry who broke her heart, and to be honest, she doesn’t even find the strength within her to begin to question how he even knows of Harry—especially his relationship with her.

Of course, their relationship has been publicized for years, but Dan is a very closed-off type of person. He’s not much into music, either—another part of him that differs so drastically from Harry—and spends a majority of his time working or spending time outside rather than succumbing himself in social media.

He looks down at the rose ring wrapped around his pointer finger, twirling it around with the hand that was once wrapped around Y/n’s shoulders.

He knew the moment he saw Harry’s reaction that this ring very much belonged to him. He wasn’t quite sure why she sacrificed it so mindlessly—why it seemed to have no story behind it. But between everything Gabby’s told him and everything he’s gathered from her previous relationship, she wanted nothing more than to get rid of every reminder she had of him.

He doesn’t feel worthy enough for it, though. If Y/n and Harry don’t find their way back to each other, he feels she should at least give it to somebody that she loves, not somebody she needs to help her get over her heartbreak.

He slides it off his finger, placing it gently on the palm of his hand before closing his fingers into a fist.

“We can’t keep doing this, Y/n. Not if you can’t talk to me.” He mutters softly, “Not if you’re still in love with him, we’ll be getting nowhere.”

This makes her cry harder. She still doesn’t have the audacity to look up at him, no, how could she? After everything she’s done?

This is why she always ends up alone. No matter how in love she is, no matter how much effort she puts into a relationship, they always end up leaving her. It’s happened long before Harry, and she was so convinced he’d stay when he came around. She was so dead set on him being her forever, but the same thing happened again. He left, just like everyone else.

And now, Dan is leaving her, and although she can’t exactly blame him for doing so, it’s another wound to her heart—it’s another pain in her chest that only seems to increase with pain.

He sighs sadly at the sight in front of him, upset with himself that he’s probably a partial reason for her soul-shaking sobs and lack of air, but he has no other choice. If he stays with her, he’d be forcing her to love someone she doesn’t. He has to let her go if it means to possibly make amends with her happiness again.

He takes one of her shaking hands away from her face and bringing it towards his lap, spreading her fingers away from her palm so that he can set the ring softly against it.

She sobs at the sight, bringing her opposite hand to her mouth as she tries to quiet herself down.

“This was Harry’s, it always was. This belongs to you, Y/n, not me.”

She nods, trying her best to smile at him as a form of appreciation, but it fails miserably. He understands, though, that she cares, and doesn’t ask her any questions.

“I’ll let Gabby know to come home now, okay?”

He kisses the top of her head, the way he always does, before removing himself from the couch and toward the front door.

“Take care of yourself, Y/n. I mean it.”

And then, he’s gone, leaving Y/n alone in an empty house and her haunting thoughts. She feels the world is closing in on her, only giving her a restricted amount of air and a limited amount of light to see what’s in front of her.

She’s alone—she’s left by herself in a dark room that’s only being illuminated by the television light, where nobody can hear her, where nobody can touch her, where nobody can see her; in a place where she just can’t trust herself.

She’s left alone, as she’s always left, and she just can’t take it anymore.

Her emotions become so strong that her body collapses onto the floor, her head throbbing and throat burning from all the tears and cries. She can’t breathe, her lungs failing to take in oxygen and her chest is pounding.

It’s so bad that if Gabby doesn’t come home soon, she actually believes she’s going to die. She feels the tug on her heart and feels how hard it is for it to do its job properly—she practically feels it overworking itself.

“Oh, God.”

Gabby finds her on the floor, making her immediately drop her purse and run to her collapsed body. Y/n is a withering mess underneath her, completely drenched in sweat as violent sobs erupt from her body.

She’s quick to sit her up properly onto the floor before lifting her back onto the couch, running a comforting hand down the side of her neck as she begins to shush her down to a calm state. However, her attempt falters when Y/n shakes her head to remove Gabby’s touch from her neck.

“I can’t—I can’t—“

She tries to find words to explain what’s happening to her right now. Between the pain in her body and the feeling in her head, her brain is scrambling with so many fearful thoughts that the only thing she can truly comprehend is being saved from this horrifying feeling.

“Hospital.”

Gabby is taken aback when she says it, completely astonished by just how serious this all is. She realizes this isn’t a situation that she can fix on her own, and it makes her feel like such a bad friend that she can’t give her what she needs.

Tears fall from her eyes in panic, well aware that her friend is undergoing something far worse than a mental breakdown, but also knows that the hospital won’t be able to help her.

Only Harry can.

“Let me call for help, okay?“ She asks softly. “I’m gonna send help.”

When Harry sees Gabby’s contact light up his phone, something inside of him instantly fills with worry. He knows, without a doubt, that Gabby hates him more than anybody ever since what happened. And knowing her so well, she would never reach out to him, especially when her negative feelings toward him were so strong, unless it’s serious.

“Gabby?”

“You have to do something, Harry.” She cries through the phone, peaking over her shoulder to look over Y/n from her location in the kitchen.

She’s still a mess, holding her hand over her heart as if it were going to mend the pain. Her head is thrown over the back of the couch, her other hand running over her face continuously. Her sobs haven’t settled, only seeming to increase with panic over the unfamiliar reaction occurring over her body.

“She thinks you don’t want her and—Harry she thinks she’s dying. Her heart is so broken. She keeps saying her heart is going to fail her and I don’t—I don’t know what to do. I don’t think there’s anything I can do. She—she was trying so hard. Harry, please, you have to—you have to—“

Harry leans on his elbows over the kitchen counter, huffing out a shaky breath when he hears both Gabby and Y/n’s cries through the phone. He rubs his hand over his face, doing anything to prevent the tears nearly pooling out from his eyes.

He’d be lying if he said that guilt isn’t eating him alive in this moment. And it’s not that he hasn’t felt any remorse or any guilt since he’d broken Y/n’s heart, but he’s now fully aware that he has to look at the damage he’s done. He’ll have to witness all the pain, all the heartbreak he’s put her through, and nothing makes him feel worse.

“I’ll do anything.” He whimpers. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I promise, I won’t keep doing this to her, you have to believe me. Just—“ he lets out a broken breath, reaching his hand up to rub his eyes to prevent any tears from escaping, “just tell me what to do.”

Gabby wipes the tears from her cheeks, yet again peering over to watch over Y/n on the couch. To her dismay, there is absolutely no improvement.

“Come here, pick her up, and bring her home. Just talk to her, please. Nothing makes her feel worse than believing you don’t want her anymore. Hell, even if you don’t—I don’t know with you anymore—just give her something. You’re the only one that can fix this.”

He sighs, nodding his head before making his way out of his house without much of a response to her. He’s only concerned for Y/n, and is so focused on getting to her so that he can prove to her that he’s changed—that he’s not the same Harry he was and is going to be there for her for as long as his life lasts, even if she doesn’t allow it.

But it’s upon arrival he realizes how much more serious this is than he thought. She’s completely breaking down, every inch of her shaking and fear written on her face. She’s a complete and utter mess, a completely wrecked version of such a beautiful, unbroken woman who had so much love in her heart and surrounded by so much love in the air.

And even though Harry knows she believes she’s going to die, apart of him believes she’s already dead. The life inside of her has burned out and is now just a product of what once was. The Y/n he always known is long gone—so far gone he almost doesn’t believe it’s her.

He looks at her with the most distraught and sympathetic look Gabby has ever seen. She has never seen so much guilt in somebody before that—no matter how much she hates him—she can’t help but feel sorry for him, too.

“Baby, hey. Hey now, it’s alright.” He whispers, kneeling in front of Y/n’s shaking figure and tentatively reaching for her hair so that he can attempt to calm her down. “I’m here now, I’m right here.”

A pitiful sound leaves her lips when she looks up at him; something between a whine, a sob, and a groan. It’s messy from her throat being raw from all the screaming and cries, and it leaves an indescribable pain that only makes her cries stronger.

She can’t even think properly, everything in her body overworking itself. It’s something she’s never experienced before, and all the fears of it being permanent rush through her veins—leaving her with an overwhelming amount of anxiety.

“She’s having a panic attack.” Harry mumbles to Gabby, making sure to rub gently over the back of Y/n’s neck. Although panic attacks weren’t common for her, whenever she was overwhelmed and stressed, this gesture always seemed calmed her down.

“I don’t know what to do. I can’t drive with her like this I—Gabby, how do I focus with her like this?” He cries, the situation in front of him making his body turn to shambles, “Especially when it’s my fault? How do I—do I keep her here until she’s calm? I don’t—I don’t know—”

Gabby shakes her head, reaching her hand over to graze his tense shoulder. She squeezes the muscle softly, almost as a sort of reassurance.

“She needs home, Harry—” she whispers, “she needs you.

He nods, choking back sobs as he brushes the hair out of Y/n’s face. The skin of her face is red and completely soaked, but this is the first time he’s seen her since the morning in the grocery store, and she’s never looked so beautiful.

“I’m going to take you home with me, Y/n. But I need you to breathe for me, can you do that?” He asks, holding her face delicately between his hands, “Breathe with me.”

Y/n sucks in a deep breath when Harry inhales deeply, attempting to rid all the anxiety and pain settling inside of her. Her inhale is broken between hiccups and cries, but as she keeps eye contact with him as she tries to calm down, a little part of her feels revived.

“It hurts.” She whimpers between sobs, referring to the pain in her chest and the throbbing in her head that just can’t seem to heal.

She watches as Harry’s face scrunches with an agonizing cry, and she knows he’s aware of exactly what she’s talking about. She’s been brokenhearted for so long, she doesn’t even think he’s the least bit shocked when she tells him her heart is hurting.

“I know, baby. I know.” He whispers as he kisses her forehead gently. “Let’s get you home, yeah? Make you feel better?”

And as much as she wants to hate him, or yell at him for everything he’s done to her and make him understand just how much of her life he’s ruined, she genuinely feels like her body is going to collapse at any given moment. She needs him, even if it’s just for right now, she has to just focus on everything happening in the now. Harry’s come back to her and she’s about to go back home.

Because if she doesn’t think about the present moment—Harry holding her, Harry kissing her, Harry about to take the both of them back to their house—she’ll never find a way to fix herself. She’ll be stuck in this anxiety and pain for far too long—so long that it could actually kill her.

So she closes her eyes, only focusing on his touch and his breath fanning over her wet face. She forgets the t-shirt, she forgets all the times he’s ignored her after declaring them to take a break, and she forgets about Jessica. At least for right now, she can focus on all that tomorrow.

She nods, and it’s then Harry notices how much more calm she is. Although she’s still crying and still incapable of speaking much from the aching in her throat, she’s breathing properly again and her once undying sobs have turned into soft whimpers.

He leans in so that he can properly wrap his arms around her, hooking one hand on her back and the other under her knees. There’s no way in hell she’s capable of walking—not like this, and in all honesty, he would much rather hold her now than leave her side for another second.

It’s when Y/n is being held so close to him again that the aching in her chest seems to almost vanish completely. And although there is still a weight on top of her lungs, and still a slight uncomfortableness in her heart, she’s finally able to breathe again.

“I’m gonna make this all better, okay? I promise you, gonna fix you.” He mumbles with his lips against her hairline, making sure to keep rubbing the back of her neck softly.

It’s a promise he intends on keeping—a promise he never plans on breaking again. He could never live with himself if he were to keep putting her through all of this pain. She’s the most undeserving person—he knows that—and he knows she’s too pure to go through all that she’s been through the past couple of months.

The car ride is completely silent, only Y/n’s cries and small sniffles filling the empty space. Although she still isn’t completely calm, she’s improved so much since he first came to pick her up and it is able to keep his mind at ease. At least while he drives.

And he doesn’t miss her hand sneaking over the console to intertwine her fingers with his. He doesn’t expect it but he also doesn’t mind it. If anything, it makes him feel better just as much as it does her.

When they pull up to the driveway of their once shared house, every bit of composure she’s withheld in her body is breaking down by the second. Her strength is wearing thin, and knowing she’ll be reuniting in the house where Y/n and Harry once had everything makes her more afraid than ever.

Harry notices her sudden shift in mood and doesn’t hesitate to unbuckle himself from his seat and walk around the car to where her exhausted figure is sobbing, slumped against the passenger seat. He sighs meekly before unbuckling her, as well, and lifting her against him the way he had before.

“Hey there, s’alright, I’m here. We’ll work this out, but you need to sleep first, yeah? Looking very pale and I know you well enough to see you’ve been lacking sleep.”

Although they both know Y/n isn’t going to respond, she wants to continue listening to him speak. It’s something she hasn’t heard in so long, and she wouldn’t even care if he was talking about the goddamn weather, she just wants to hear him again.

He keeps talking, too, because he notices the effects of his voice on her anxiety and how the muscles in her body relax under his words. He’ll stop at nothing to make sure she’s okay again, even if it means having a one-sided conversation.

“You know how you are, too—grumpy and sensitive when you’re tired. Almost take my head off if you don’t get more than seven hours. Remember that one time at my mum’s Christmas dinner party? Barely slept the night before from wrapping so many gifts that you genuinely got upset with me for not knowing your favorite alcoholic beverage.” He chuckles softly. “Funny lil thing.“

Through the nonstop crying and the frown that hasn’t left Y/n’s lips in what feels like an eternity, the first smile stretches from her lips. It’s the smallest closed mouth smile he’s ever seen, but it’s there, and it’s the most genuine feeling of happiness she’s had in so long.

When Harry unlocks the door, he wastes no time making his way over to their couch. He knows very well that she wouldn’t want to sleep on their bed, considering she’s well aware of what he did with Jessica on that bed and he wants no reason to upset her any further.

He sets her down in front of the couch, petting the top of her head softly before gathering a blanket and a pillow for her to sleep on.

He sets it up like a bed, almost, before turning to leave so that she can have her privacy. He doesn’t think she’d want to sleep with him, so he decides to sleep in the guest bedroom since he knows she’d always pick the living room couch over that room.

But before he gets too far, Y/n weakly captures his fingers in hers, pulling him back towards her.

His head snaps down to her finger, noticing the rose ring being worn beautifully on her middle finger. He almost chokes when he sees it on her, eyes wide and lips slightly parted in half confusion and half in awe.

“Please,” she whimpers, “stay.”

He snaps out of his trance at her words, slowly nodding his head as a small “of course” falls from his lips.

He lays comfortably on the couch, looking up at her when he finds a position where she can lay beside him.

“If you want you can take the—alright” he huffs.

His eyes narrow as he watches her lay on top of him—fully on top of him; her cheek nesting right where his shoulder meets his neck as her arms slither around his sides until her hands meet under his back. Her legs tangle perfectly in between his, and in any other circumstance, this probably wouldn’t have been an ideal sleeping position for the either of them. But Y/n is exhausted, both physically and mentally, and she feels this is the only position she can sleep.

Harry doesn’t mind, and easily ignores the subtle uncomfortableness in his back as he wraps his arms securely around her frame.

Although Y/n is already fast asleep on top of it, he’s unsure how he can close his eyes for longer than a blink. This could be the last chance he has to be with her in this way. He’s unsure what tomorrow holds for the both of them and their relationship—it could end entirely or create an entirely new beginning.

With the possibilities almost endless against their favor, he doesn’t want to miss a second of what could be the last of her in his life. So, he embraces the feeling of her tight hold, the little puddle of drool on the shoulder of his t-shirt, and the tickle on his chin from her loose strands of hair, because this could be the last time he feels all of that.

But he also can’t help but feel that small bit of hope still latching onto him. That somewhere—deep down—he knows they belong to each other for the rest of their lives. And that, maybe, if the universe decides that their relationship should end tomorrow, he knows destiny will find a way for the both of them again.

So, he holds her a little tighter, breathes her in a little harsher, and soaks up all the extra warmth in her body, and prays that everything will be okay.

NHL!Bitty, Part XII -  ‘A Stanley Cup Wedding’

The Schooners win game seven and dethrone the defending champion Falconers to claim Seattle’s first national title. 

Eric was definitely not expecting Jack to propose immediately after losing.

(A rework of the ‘Game 7 PVD vs SEA’ prompt that totally retcons some NHL!Bitty stuff, so timeline-wise: the Falconers took the cup Eric’s second year with the Schooners. The Schooners win the following season.)

NHL!Bitty Masterpost




Game Seven. Third period. Eric’s running on adrenaline, blue Gatorade, and rage.

Jack and the rest of the Falconers first line are racing to catch up, but Eric is ‘criminally fast’ (thank you ESPN for the lovely descriptor), and it’s almost too easy to whip the puck to Carter and wait for the siren.

Snowy can’t stop it. The Schooners will win in regulation. 

For a brief, terrifying moment, Eric sees Morin’s breakaway as the death knell of his relationship. He has flashes of Freshman year and he thinks ‘Jack is going to hate me’.

Eric closes his eyes and waits.

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givenchy & gold, part i (m.)

;pairing — jungkook/reader

;warnings — sex | implied exhibitionism | mild dom/sub tones | if u’ve got a praise kink then ur gonna love this | mentions of daddy kinks | instances of spanking 

;summary — you’re the supervisor of the clothing department with a lot of useless lingerie knowledge, jungkook is the jewelry department’s defiant hot boy who flirts in wristwatch brands. basically an upscale retail au, but with lots of implied under-the-counter sex. and when an opportunity presents itself to fuck each other in the boss’s office after hours, you’re both too hot for each other to say no.

;word count — 20k im so sorry

part i | part ii

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By Way of Spontaneity (Part 11)

Summary: On a whim, Bucky declares you to be his girlfriend to his grandma and mother. They’re eager to meet you and he asks you to pretend to be with him for just one dinner with his family. But is that really all?

Word Count: 928

Warnings: None.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

A/N: This fic keeps getting longer, I apologize. :D 

Originally posted by sincerelysaraahh


The following morning, you were roused by Bucky, who was trying to move away from you. He was trying to be as quiet as possible, you were being moved out of your comfortable position and you weren’t shy to voice your discomfort. He gave a silent laugh.

“Sorry, I gotta use the bathroom,” he explained in a whisper, pulling his body out from beneath you and putting a cushion under your head. “I’ll be right back.”

Too sleepy to argue, you hummed and smiled up at him. “Mm-‘kay,” you muttered back, cozying up to the cushion.

Bucky gave you a soft smile, bending at the waist to give your forehead a gentle kiss. Once straightening up, he headed for the bathroom, taking his phone out of his pocket after a night of not checking it.

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“That’s. Uh- Cas? That’s a baby.”

“I can see that, Dean.” Cas frowns down at the chubby little thing, happily cooing and gurgling away in his carseat.

“We’re supposed to take care of that woman’s baby?”

Cas nods. “I believe that’s what she meant, yes.”

Dean throws his hands in the air uselessly. He isn’t sure which pisses him off more, the situation or how calm Cas is about it. “What the hell are we supposed to do with a baby?”

Cas shrugs. “Feed it?’

“Oh my God.” Dean closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, and suddenly sees her again, lying on the ground with her blood everywhere, begging for them to make sure ‘he’ was safe. 

‘He’ turns out to be about five months old and terrifying. Well, terrifying to Dean, anyway. Cas seems to be simply curious about him.

A few hours later, Dean thinks he may have overdone it. They are finally settled into the motel along with what seems like every baby product the local supermarket carries. The room is almost hard to walk in with all the diapers and tiny clothes and bottles of lotions and liquids and lots of things that appear to do nothing but look cute.

Dean is in over his head. He knows he isn’t going to be able to turn this kid over to a police station. Foster care is amazing when it works out, but he doesn’t want to take any chances. He’s gonna find this little guy a good home where he can check in from time to time. A place Dean will know he’s safe.

So now he’s stuck taking care of a baby for the time being, and he doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing.

Just as the panic sets in, he glances over and sees Cas stretched out in a chair, the baby in his arms. As Dean watches, Cas makes funny faces at the baby, until the tiny thing is grinning all over himself and gleefully flailing his arms around. Every time the child smiles, Cas does too, and Dean isn’t sure who is enjoying himself more.

Dean can’t help a smile of his own as he watches them, and the more they play, the calmer Dean feels.

Maybe this won’t be so bad.

Days of the week (smut)

Words: 1148

Warning: Smut

Reader x All the members

A/N:  This is a special smut that contains 8 parts, this is the first one and does not have smut yet

Days of the week l Monday - Jin l   Days of the week: Tuesday - Yoongi l


Originally posted by sweaterpawsjimin

 Everything started with a fan meeting. Everything started only with that.  You were nothing but just a fan, a fan who never thought that all that would happen. Once you went there, your life changed.

  You were there, waiting for your turn to see them, to talk to them, to give them gifts. You couldn’t be more anxious, you had been waiting for that moment all life. And finally, your turn came. You talked to them, one by one, sharing smiles and compliments. In the end of the FM, when you were about to leave – it was already empty, you wanted to stay there the most you could - someone stopped you. You turned around, and a big man was standing behind you.

“Can I help you?” you asked politely, and kinda scared.

“Come with me, please” the man said. He must be one of the securities, and your stomach started to burn up. What did you have done? Why was he calling you? What the fuck. The man took you to the backstage and while you walked thru the hallway, no one seemed to pay attention on you both. The man stopped in front of a door and looked at you.

 “I am the boys’ bodyguard. They are right inside this room” he said. Namjoon, Jin, Jungkook, Taehyung, Jimin, Yoongi and Hoseok were right there? What was gonna happen?

“They want to talk to you” You felt your body tensing up; you felt your heart stopping. What… the…fuck…? They want to talk to me? Oh my… “But I have to check you before”.

When he finished checking you, he looked at you again.

“And one more thing… You have to assign something” he said and gave you a paper.

Confidentiality Term?

“What is this for?”

“You can’t see them if you don’t assign this” He said.

Right.

You did as he said.

“You can go in”.

And just this way, he opened the door, and there they were. The youngest ones were sat, while the hyungs were standing. You entered into the room, your body shaking while you heard the door being closed.

“Hello” Namjoon said, “nice to meet you again” he said. Oh ma.

“H-hi, oh my God” you said, voice trembling.  You looked at their faces; they were looking at you as if you were an animal in a zoo, smiling cockily. They said a “hi” in unison.

“Don’t be nervous. What’s your name again?” he asked. Of course they don’t remember, they knew a lot of fans today.

“Y/N” you answered, blushing.

“And how old are you?” Jin asked. You almost lost your conscience because of the sound of his voice.

 “I am 18”.

 What was happening? What did they want? And whatever they wanted, why me? You must be dreaming. You were not in a room with the boys of BTS.

“Hum… old enough”.

They kept talking to you, asking things and you just answered, not daring to ask what was happening. But minutes later, maybe hours, you didn’t know, after a lot of conversation, the boys told you to sit.

“You are really beautiful, you know?” Taehyung said, making you wide your eyes. His deep voice did send you shiver. His lips… oh.

“Huh, t-thank you” you said, your face probably redder than a tomato.

“You are single?” Jin asked.

 “Yes” you answered.

“Well, Y/N. We gotta say that the fact you are wonderful is seen by all of us. Not just wonderful…You are hot too…” Namjoon said, his voice deepened as he said “hot”, looking you up and down. Your heart rushed. Did Namjoon say you were hot? Nah… Taehyung sat beside you, and your body tensioned. He seemed to notice because he smirked cockily.

“Are you nervous?” he asked. You nodded.

“Why Am I here? Did I do something wrong?” you asked shyly. They laughed.

 “Of course you didn’t, baby girl. Tell us… as a fan… you think we are hot, don’t you?” Yoongi said.

What?

“O-of course I do” you said, blushing and looking down.  You felt Taehyung getting closer to you.

“And would you like to kiss me?” he asked, putting his arms around you. Oh my God that couldn’t be happening. Not with you. He got closer, his lips touching your ear, “would you like to touch me? Would you want me to…” he said, his hands flew to your thighs, squeezing at it and making you jump by the sudden touch, “Fuck you, hard and good?”

 The world stopped to you. You looked at him by the moment he said that. Did he say…did he ask…? Shit. You looked at the boys and they didn’t seem to be surprised. They didn’t act. They just stayed there, waiting for you to answer. You were so chocked that you didn’t realize Jimin had sat in your other side.

“Wouldn’t you want me to suck on your clit?” he said, his hand on your other thigh, getting up toward your breast, “or your boobs”

You got up immediately. What the fuck are you doing? Don’t. You didn’t know what to do.

 “We are sorry… sorry” Taehyung said, now apparently worried because of your reaction “We shouldn’t have touched you, we are sorry. You can go if you want”

No way.

“Why did you call me?” you asked. “That’s what I want to know”.

 “We liked you. We want you” Jin said simply. You looked at their faces again and noticed that Jungkook was the only one who wasn’t talked yet. So he is really shy.

“All you?” you asked shyly, looking at Jungkook.

“Yes, all of us” Jungkook said, making you surprised again. He was so fucking cute. They kept there, waiting for you to say something, anything.

 “I… I don’t think I understand” you said. What did they want? To fuck you all at once?

 “We are seven. There are seven days a week. We want you. That’s it. But if you don’t want to, you can go. But remember you can’t tell this to anyone” Namjoon said.

You thought about it… You wanted of course, but that was so sudden.

“You won’t live with us or something… We are staying here for 2 more weeks, and then we leave. You’ll go to our hotel room to see us when we call you and that’s it. Don’t think you are a slut because of it. You will be just a girl who wants to fuck her idols. Her idols who want to fuck her too”

That’s enough.

“Yes” you said.

“What?” Jimin and Hoseok asked, this time surprised.

“Yes. Let’s do that”  

Did I just accept?

 All of sudden, Jin walked towards you and grabbed your waist, pushing you back till your back hit the wall. He licked your earlobe while squeezing your butt with both his hands and whispered:

“Tomorrow is Monday. I am the first one”

Dessert Connoisseurs

                                             SUGAR PT.1

Bucky Barnes X Reader

A/N: This is the first installment of my AU series yeet!

Words: 954

Prompt: Struggling with the pressures of running a bakery in New York City, [Y/N] [Y/L/N] is your average, flour-covered baker. Bucky Barnes is your no nonsense, sugar-hating guy. What happens when the two get closer than Fate intends for them to?

Warnings: swearing, serious cat names??, shitty writing

A huge shoutout to @redgillan for being an actual angel and beta-ing this for me. 

Sugar Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In short, Bucky Barnes doesn’t like sweets. He despises the carbohydrate with every ounce of being. Sure, give him a bowl of spaghetti, he’ll scarf it down with inhuman speed and ask for more (with extra Parmesan cheese) but when it comes to sweets, he has a divergence to them.

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You know I don’t think Jack knew he liked Ashi till this exact moment

“Why am I so nervous? Oh no oh no oh god no I like her.. I am not prepared for for this!!!!”

“Shitshitshit our hands touched what do I do?!?!?!??! I should say something I should say something come on brain make words happen.”

“Oh no stop talking. I’m making it sooooooo much worse. STOP TALKING!!!”

“Well I’m sweating worse than when I fought a legit army this is great. Is there a book on this? I feel like I should have been taught something. Well so long as I don’t talk again…”

“OH GOD WHY AM I TALKING AGAIN!?!?!”

“Ok ok I can do this we spoke before right? Yes yes we definitely did. Why is this so hard now?!?”

“Is it these uuuummmmm feelings I uh mmmmm does she like me too? I don’t know if i can handle that. Oh where is that figment of my mind to tell me what to do?”

“Oh thank god someone is trying to kill us. This I know how to deal with……should that concern me?”