or he should call you instead

Some Quotes From my Art History Professor:
  • “Caravaggio was the BEST renaissance painter, because he knew his shit.  Literally.  Look at this painting, he’s painted shit on everything, even Saint Peter!”
  • “For those of you fortunate enough to Not grow up catholic, a baptism is where you mist a baby like an orchid to keep it from going to hell.”
  • “You get Extra Credit for you eerily comprehensive knowledge of Muppets.  Now stop talking.”
  • “GOD I love flying buttresses.  They’re so melodramatic!”
  • “I don’t call him “Da Vinci” because that means “From Vinci”.  That’s like calling Steve “Of Greeley” instead of his real name and that’s just rude.  And not just because Greeley is Awful.”
  • “Michelangelo was really depressed because his job sucked.  Also because he was a bit of a douche, but mostly the job.  He should have been doing literally anything else.”
  • “Everything can be improved with a Simpson’s reference!”
  • “Send me Memes, I like having recent content in my lectures.”
    *Next day* “Stop sending me memes. Please.”
  • *whilst angrily pointing at a picture of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles* “The Turtles have all their names mixed up for their personalities and frankly that’s embarrassing.  The techie should be Leo, the Flirt should be Raphael, The Boring Leader Dude should be Donatello and the angry one should be Carvaggio because that asshole literally spent his life drunk, fighting people and blackmailing cardinals.  Carvaggio was the BEST.”
  • “I could have studied in Rome. I could be trying to match boxes of broken dicks to statuary.  Instead of dicks I have you assholes.”
  • “Warhol was, as you young people say, A Troll.  The art is not the Art, the Outrage is the Art.  Which is kind of a Dick Move, which we old people say too.”
  • “Remember Kids- mental illness and heavy metal poisoning are not actually substitutes for Talent and Hard Work! Get therapy and don’t drink your paint water!”

Karamel shippers seem to think we only hate Mon-El just because we don’t like their ship, so I thought of 10 reasons why we hate Mon-El that don’t involve Kara~

1. He fucking owned slaves and most of his fans try to validate why that’s somehow “okay” just because he’s not from earth, as if being born in an advanced alien society means you don’t know common universal morals (Which is ironic considering its canon to the show that everyone from basically every planet knows slave owning is wrong/unacceptable)

2. He abandoned a woman he was sleeping with and left her to die while she was begging for his help to save himself

3. He lied about who he was to people who had opened up their lives to him for 9 whole months just to make himself look better and then he admitted that he would still be lying about his identity if his parents hadn’t shown up

4. He. enjoyed. objectifying. women.

5. Nearly gets several people killed because he doesn’t follow orders

6. He takes away screen-time from characters who are far more interesting than him, yet he still manages to have 0 character development or add anything essential to the plot

7. Instead of doing what’s right (Like M'gann did) by returning to his planet to save everyone from being oppressed and fix his past mistakes, he stays on earth doing the bare minimum for his own selfish reasons

8. Only wants to do something any decent person would do if that means he gets something he wants in return

9. Believes he should be forgiven immediately without any repercussions and no need for a genuine apology

10. His character is teaching boys and girls that no matter if you call a woman, selfish, attention seeking, annoying, yell at her infront of your co-workers, lie to her, act aggressively jealous, guilt trip her and use a declaration of “love” to manipulate her feelings despite never doing anything in your actions to prove it (saying you love someone and actually treating someone like you love them are two totally different things, not just making them bacon and throwing in a few compliments) you’ll be good enough to have her.

Don't Label Jin in BTS with Female Pronouns or Automatically Associate Him with Namjoon

Please, don’t call/or imply that Jin is a mom/wife/parent/princess etc.; claim indirectly that Namjin is the only Jinship; or automatically associate Jin with Namjoon as a default, because of these reasons:
1. Misrepresentation of Jin’s personality: BigHit restricted Jin’s personality because they wanted him to have a certain image as being cool, calm and collected until around 2016, when BigHit finally allowed Jin to act like himself. As you can see in recent videos, Jin is much more playful, outgoing, childish and loud. However, the label of mom still remains despite the fact that he doesn’t exhibit the stereotypical traits of a mom anymore. Cooking and taking care of the members does not automatically make him a mother. This is why I don’t want him to be called mom/wife/princess anymore, because you’re misrepresenting who he actually is. All the members say Jin ist the most childish.
2. “But the other members call Jin mom, and Jin has called himself it as well”: Yes, I acknowledge that this has happened; however, J-Hope and Jimin has also been labeled as moms. J-Hope especially have been referred to as the mother-figure much more frequently than Jin. Both J-Hope and Jimin have done actions that can be perceived as stereotypical mom-traits. Why does the label only stick to Jin? Plus they’re calling him uncle now.
3. The appropriate context: If you’re going to label someone as mom, at least it should be in a context where the member actually acts in a way that is stereotypically considered motherly. Instead often what happens is that Jin is labeled as a mother/wife no matter how unlike a stereotypical mother/wife he actually acts.
4. Double standards and hypocrisy: For example, Jin has nearly kissed Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook but this is still considered a son-mom-moment, with comments like “Mommy Jin, what are you doing trying to kissing your son?”, “Cute mom-and-son bonding moment” or “Stop cheating on Namjoon.” This limits our perception of Jin’s relationships, because they are all reduced to son-mom-moments. If near-kiss-moments had been between any of the other members than Jin, the interactions would not have been interpreted as a mom-and-son-moment. But just because it’s Jin, his interactions are judged differently. In other words, there is a double standard on how Jin is treated compared to other members. It is hypocritical that Jin is judged differently.
5. Limiting the way we perceive Jin’s relationships: It also limits the type of relationships Jin is allowed to have, both romantically and brotherly. The mom/wife label is indirectly forced on people like me, when people continue to comment things like mom/wife. When people comment that Jin is “cheating on Namjoon” or “Mom Jin and dad Namjoon taking care of the kids”, people implicitly make it clear that Jin can only be shipped with Namjoon (even if it’s just a joke), and when people, even if they don’t bring in Namjoon, call Jin mom they are indirectly reinforcing the ship and the role Jin has.
6. Shipping: Worse is when Namjoon or mom jokes are used to promote their ship. Saying that Jin is “cheating on Namjoon” or imply in any way that Namjoon or Jin are in an actual relationship, dismisses Jin’s other relationships with the other members. and implicitly reinforce that Jin can not be shipped with anyone than Namjoon. This often happens when people don’t want Jin to be shipped with anyone else than Namjoon, so they make “jokes” and misgenders him because they don’t want Jin to be shipped with anyone else then Namjoon.
7. Indirectly/Implicitly preventing shipping: Saying things like “You can’t ship mom and son, that’s incest” and “Everyone already knows that Namjoon and Jin is married”, is a dismissive gesture, that is implicitly preventing people from interpreting Jin’s relationships in another way than mom-and-son. People hide behind this “joke”, to prevent Jin from being shipped, brotherly or romantically etc., with anyone else than Namjoon.
8. Stereotyping of Moms: “A stereotype is a preconceived notion about a group of people.” By calling Jin mom/wife, people are indirectly implying that making food and taking care of the members, is how a mom should/and is acting.
9. “But it’s a compliment”: Maybe people mean it as one, but it’s still problematic to perpetuate a stigma about moms, and implicitly about gender roles.
10. Gender roles and heteronormativity: By stereotyping Jin as the mother and Rap Monster as the father, people are implying that there needs to be a “submissive” and “dominant” in the relationship, often in relation with “femininity” (female) and “masculinity” (male). Instead of just being a relationship with two men, people are indirectly strengthening the perception that there needs to be someone traditionally feminine (female) and someone traditionally masculine (male). Even though I don’t believe anyone is intentionally intending to be homophobic or sexist, this is still a case of unintentional and internalized sexism and homophobia, that stigmatize and generalize people. This is heteronormativity.
11. Misgendering: About the princess/mom/wife label, Jin once corrected a fan when she called him princess, he wanted to be called prince. This can be applied to the mom/wife label too.
12. “But we know that he is a man, it’s just a joke”: Jokes can be problematic and harmful, and as I mentioned before, it still misrepresents Jin’s personality, stereotypes him and limits how we view his interactions with other members.
13. “It’s still a joke. Calm down. If you don’t like the comments, just ignore them.”: People are entitled to their opinion, but don’t tell us not react or tell us it’s just a joke, because we understand that it’s just a joke, but we don’t find it funny. Stop trivializing our feelings, perspectives and experiences and blame us for implicitly for being “too sensitive” and “not being able to take a joke” when so many people do not like that Jin is called mom/wife/princess etc. Our feelings should be acknowledged. We should not be marginalized and overlooked, and we need to speak up, because if we don’t, people will continue to call Jin mom/wife/princess. Stop misrepresenting Jin’s personality; stereotyping him; being hypocritical about how you chose to interpret Jin’s relationships/personality as mom/wife/princess when you wouldn’t have done the same with another member; and limiting how we view Jin’s interactions and relationship with the members.

Side note: English is not my first language, so I’m sorry if I didn’t articulate myself well enough. I made a post about this before, but this one is much more organized, and I added several points.

Things Rick Riordan has included in his books:

1 - POC (Frank Zhang, Hazel Levesque, Piper Mclean, Carter/Sadie Kane, Zia Rashid, Samirah al-Abbas, etc.)

2 - Continued calling out of rape culture & misogyny

3 - Racial profiling and how it affects people

4 - Genderfluid/trans representation

5 - Gay representation

6 - Bi representation

7 - Arguably, pan representation

8 - The way homeless people are treated by society

9 - Religious people that are open-minded and respect others beliefs

10 - Atheists that respect others beliefs and don’t hate on religion for no apparent reason

11 - Said religious people and atheists being friends

12 - Erasure of biracial people and their identity

13 -  Biracial people not always looking like the caramel skin, green eyes etc. stereotype

14 - Cop violence

15 - Deaf representation (Hearthstone)

16 - actual gay couples instead of just token characters?

17 - kids with ADHD

18 - kids with dyslexia 

19 - the continued refusal to accept the “beauty or brains” nonsense

20 - Arguably, he calls out internalized misogyny

21 - the idea that arranged marriages are not always detrimental or unloving

22 - muslim representation

basically you should love rick riordan and read everything that he writes

feel free to add to this list

The tragic story of too much info about the sexual relationship of your best friends or why Alya will forever regret trying to kill Adrien

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @lunian !!!!!!! Remember when we talked about this? Well, I couldn’t resist writing it. I hope you’ll like it. Crack ahead. And if the title wasn’t a dead giveaway, this has some sexual references in it. Nothing happens, but many are said.


“ADRIEN FUCKING DEAD AGRESTE!”

All the people who were still in the courtyard of the Collège Françoise Dupont run for the hills (or in this case, the school building) as Alya Césaire appeared and walked towards her best friend’s boyfriend with all the might of a storm.

“Dude, I think she means you.” Nino stage-whispered to his best friend as his girlfriend made a beeline towards them.

“But my middle name is Bartholomé.” Adrien argued.

Nino rolled his eyes. His best friend really needed to set his priorities straight. “That’s what worries you?”

Adrien gulped. “Burry me in a polka dotted coffin, please.”

Nino was under the impression he wasn’t kidding in the slightest. “Sure, if there is anything left to bury.”

“There won’t be!” Alya snarled as she lifted Adrien by the neck.

Well, this morning is certainly bound to be interesting, Nino thought.


One day, Marinette will be on time to school. One day. Today wasn’t that day. As Marinette speed walked through the school yard she couldn’t help but notice what a beautiful day it was. The sun was shining, birds were singing, Adrien was being strangled by Alya… wait a second.

“Alya!” Marinette shouted, rushing towards them. “Put him down.”

Her best friend was obviously not happy to have to delay her murder. Meanwhile, Nino considered if he should stop filming the whole thing. If Marinette was here, then maybe there won’t be need of proof for the police for a murder. Though, let’s be real, he would never turn his girlfriend in. He would have just posted the video on YouTube in his collection of An Infinity of Reasons Why You Shouldn’t Piss Alya Off. If he was recalling correctly, this video would be number 2749.

“Alya, what is going on? Why are you strangling my boyfriend.” Marinette questioned crossing her arms, while Adrien was gasping for air on the ground.

“Marinette,“ Alya’s tone was regretful and the sad look in her eyes indicated something bad was coming. “I’m sorry to say this honey, but he is cheating on you.”

And in that moment, Marinette felt her whole world crashing down. “What?! With whom?”

Marinette was dying to hear that answer. Who? Did Adrien really cheat on her? Was it some rabid fangirl who jumped at his bones and Alya just got the wrong impression?

Alya sighed. “With Ladybug.”

Marinette blinked. “Damn.” both her and Adrien whispered maybe a little too loudly. Thus Adrien choked, cause he still didn’t regain his proper breathing.

“That’s… unexpected.” Marinette managed to say, trying to think of something plausible to get them out of this situation. She knew it was a bad idea to make out when only one of them was transformed. Damn Adrien and his filthy thirst for her spots. “It isn’t a problem, though, cause… um… this is… an… open… relationship.”

Oh well, not the worst excuse she could have had come with. Alya crossed her arms obviously expecting an explanation while Nino muttered a ‘dude’ under his breath. That’s when Adrien decided to be a supportive boyfriend.

“Yeah. Marinette has her fun times with Ladybug too,” he said, raising his index finger as if that would help him make a point while he was still laying on the ground.

Why is he like this? Marinette sighed internally.

Alya turned to Marinette with an expression that was a mix of shock and anger. “You are hooking up with Ladybug and you didn’t tell me?!”

Marinette glared down at Adrien, who looked sheepish. “Yeah. And don’t forget about Chat Noir.”

“Chat Noir?” both Alya and Nino screamed simultaneously.

“Yeah,” Marinette stated, looking at Adrien, who finally picked himself off the ground, with a mischievous look. “Why don’t you tell us about your escapades with Chat Noir, Adrien?”

Her boyfriend laughed nervously. “What escapade do you mean?”

Marinette smirked. “Well, you did tell me that Chat Noir found you wearing cute yet sexy Ladybug lingerie.”

At this point, Nino had to turn off his camera, unable to hold his phone anymore. “Dudeeeee.”

Alya, to everybody’s surprise, was silent until now. But there was as much as the shock could keep her from asking. "But what about Ladybug?”

“Oh, she thinks the same” Marinette replied calmly while analyzing her nails.

“No, no, I mean, I thought Chat only loves her.”

“Oh that… well, who can resist this model ass?” she asked rhetorically while slapping Adrien’s ass for emphasis. Nino nodded vigorously as well. Honestly, wasn’t it universal knowledge everybody loved Adrien’s ass?

Adrien glared at Marinette. Not for smacking his ass, mind you. He loved getting his ass smacked by her. But for making fun of his taste in lingerie. Well, if this is how she wanted to play, so be it then. “Of course. So if we are discussing this topic, why don’t you mention that time when Chat caught you wearing lingerie inspired by his outfit?”

’Well, don’t try hiding the fact that once you begged Ladybug to tie you with her yoyo.“ Marinette scoffed, trying to hide her blush. That had been an interesting night.

"I need a bucket,” Alya muttered, not sure what to think of her friends and her idol anymore.

“YOU CALLED CHAT NOIR’S DICK AS A BATON!” Adrien shouted louder than necessary, while blushing.

“I guess, I need one too” Nino said, wishing he will just forget everything that had been said so far. And from now on, because apparently Marinette and Adrien weren’t done.

“Remember when you told Chat Noir that you want a collar with a bell too?”

“Oh, really Marinette, should I remind you that one time when I walked on you and Ladybug and you were blindfolded?”

Nino glanced at Alya. “Are we kink shaming them now or later?”

“Then you asked us if you can be blindfolded instead and, I quote ‘used as your little sex toy’.” that had been a strange day. She had an urge to blindfold herself, Adrien came over unannounced and things escalated quickly and she discovered some new kinks of her boyfriend.

“I guess, if we die right here, right this second, they wouldn’t notice it.” Nino states, but Alya was unable to reply anymore, not sure what to make out of this whole conversation.

“You begged Chat Noir to slap you with his tail belt.” Adrien argued back, while his face was putting any ripe tomato to shame.

Marinette screeched. “YOU WERE WEARING MY FAVORITE PINK STOCKINGS.”

“THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH WHAT WE WERE TALKING ABOUT.”

"I’m sure it totally does.”

Adrien scoffed, crossing his arms. “But you can deny they suit me.” he knew she liked them. She even said so that night. They had been a little tight, but she had made him a matching pair better fit for his height.

"Jesus, how many moments like this do they have?” Nino questioned, clearly shocked by how kinky his bro was. And he was sort of afraid fo the answer, if he had to be honest.

“What’s more important, why are we still listening to this mess?” it was Alya’s turn to ask questions that will never get answers. “I’m not even sure if I want to use this thing as blackmail or just erase it from my brain forever.”

“To be honest, it would be much better if Adrien really just cheated on Mari with Ladybug,” Nino said hesitantly, obviously scared of Alya’s reaction. “I mean, I wouldn’t have forgiven him if he ever did that, but at least, in that case, us, innocent bystanders wouldn’t have to be traumatized for life.”

Alya could only nod. Honestly, the mental picture fo Adrien in Ladybug themed lingerie left her with brain damage.

After what seemed like an eternity Adrien and Marinette finished their not so little argument, both huffing and as red in the face as the surface of Mars. Not that anybody would say that out loud, given how much of a nerd Adrien is, he would come with some science facts about the color of the surface of Mars.
.
“So yeah, we have an open relationship.” Marinette concluded, the two of them finally turning to their best friends.

“We got it after the reminder about Chat Noir, thank you.” Nino said, sarcastically.

“Now get outta of my sight, my poor brain had dealt enough with your kinks for now and forever.” Alya ordered waving her hand desperately while rubbing her temple with her free hand.

“Well, if you didn’t want to kill me, none of this would have happened.” Adrien said with a smug smirk.

Alya snarled. "Next time neither Marinette or even fucking Ladybug won’t stop me, Agreste.”

Adrien gulped. Marinette slapped him compassionately on the ass.

Mouth o’ Mine

Harry X Reader: Angst, smut

In which Harry’s no good with his words but he sure is good with his mouth.

Request? Yes:

some harry face sitting action maybe?

Author’s note: This is a continuation of “Mess o’ Mine.” I would suggest reading that first, if you haven’t already. I thought this was gonna be the end but then I fucked up so… there’s also a part 3. Hope you enjoy! I did!

Part 1: Mess o’ Mine // Part 3: Mind o’ Mine


You’ve been running through the events that have occurred, confused at the escalation and the outcome. No issues have been resolved, and there wasn’t really a conversation or discussion. You don’t know any more than you did when you heard Harry singing your poems. Has he used your writing in more songs on his album?  Has he read your whole journal? God, you hope not. One poem is bad enough.

Harry hasn’t been around, hasn’t tried calling for the two weeks since he showed up on your doorstep. You’ve flipped the channel whenever he shows up on your television and scrolled at record speed when he’s popped up on your social media feeds. Maybe you should feel relieved and cleansed of his toxicity, but you don’t. Instead, you feel a little broken, like your stomach is splintering into pieces, and your mind still feels split open. Not only that, but you can smell him, feel the weight of him on top of you, taste the foreign flavor of his mouth. This isn’t what you need.

A whole other wave of confusion has rolled over you in terms of your relationship with Harry, if there still is one. The two of you have crossed a line without any prior thought or contemplation. Years upon years of friendship have been threatened, and you’re not even sure how it happened. Why did he kiss you? How did the two of you end up in bed, naked between the sheets? If you were confused about it before, trying to figure things out has only worsened your introspection.

Keep reading

@ the #DiagnoseTrump people, you are being disgusting. You say you hate him because he’s a bigot but then you act like in order for him to have such gross opinions he must be mentally ill, or that diagnosing him with mental illness/a personality disorder will somehow make him unfit for his position. 

What is it saying that after all the things Trump has said and done you think diagnosing him with mental illness will be enough to oust him? Why would anyone even support that? I hate what Trump stands for, but in supporting this #DiagnoseTrump mess you are essentially saying that bad people must be mentally ill (rather than just racist/sexist/bigoted) and that you think a mental health diagnosis should be used as a weapon to invalidate and bring down people instead of help them. 

And even if Donald Trump did get diagnosed with every mental illness under the sun, why would that be relevant? Do you think it would be right that he be pressured to stand down BECAUSE of that? What wider message do you think that is spreading? I’ll tell you what message that would spread: a message that mental illness makes a person’s political views/voice invalid, which is toxic and wrong. 

Please share this if you think you’re progressive because honestly the amount of so called ‘progressive’ people online that think this sort of attack on Trump (or ANY person) is okay is shocking and disheartening. 

NHL!Bitty - Pens AU

@kit923 requested NHL!Bitty playing for the Pens (@sergeantsexface seconded Pens!Bitty!) and this is a little more pre-Penguins, but it counts, right??? Takes place after the NHL hack that leaks homophobic emails. Eric is fed up with the entire league and planning to make a statement by not signing with anyone. Then this happens.

Origin: From Samwell to Seattle | Part I - Hug Check | Part II - Chirping |  Part III - Post-Season | Part IV - RPF | Part V - Dating


It’s just another godawful luncheon, but today Jack has the added pleasure of every other donor asking Jack’s opinion about his ‘homosexual’ teammate going pro. After the third locker room joke, Jack excuses himself, desperate for air, only to find his father and Uncle Mario nursing their drinks on the club’s back patio. 

He’s about to find somewhere less conspicuous when he hears: 

“That’s not even debatable, Bittle is going to be scouted. Even if he’s just shipped down to a farm team, Bettman isn’t going to-”

Oh. Of course, Mario would be involved in all of this, he’s an owner. Jack knocks his knuckles against the railing, his manners winning out over his morbid curiosity. They stop talking abruptly, but his father visibly relaxes when he sees it’s just Jack and not another donor.

Keep reading

→ Paper Doll (pt. 1)

Originally posted by sugutie

☆ pairing → Jungkook x Reader

☆ genre → idol+singer-songwriter!au, drama, slight angst

 warning sexual themes with smut in the next chapters, mentions of past unhealthy relationship 

☆ word count   → 2.1k

summary   → When the nation’s little sister, IU, gets into a huge scandal, your agency seizes the opportunity to thrust you into that now vacant spotlight. Your self-composed song Paper Doll becomes an overnight sensation, and soon people are itching to find out who was the one who broke your heart. All hell breaks loose once netizens discover that you used to date popular idol, Jeon Jungkook. Little do they know that it wasn’t him who left the relationship unscathed –  it was you.

alternatively: a story on the consequences of a hit break-up song

i | ii 


a/n  → so basically this is me being coerced into writing jjk smut 
edit: pt i is more of a prologue



[+11,435; -2,003] this really breaks my image of him… proves how you can’t judge someone from their personality on camera

[+9,386; -1,983] all this time he was pretending to be super innocent haha all those stupid fangirls throwing money at him blindly must be going crazy

[+5,903; -1,234] i mean everyone goes through break-ups, but he was cosplaying as an innocent guy who was scared of skinship with girls all these years.. lmao he’s super shamel–

The words on the screen in front of him all blurred and bled into one big stain. He quickly scrolled through the hundreds and hundreds of comments, each more condemning than the last. A steady pressure was building in his ears, until the only thing he could see or feel were the accusations of a faceless crowd, all jeering at him loudly, fingers pointed.

It was as if his entire life flashed in front of his eyes right then, and he could suddenly recall every inconsequential and significant thing that had shaped his life the past seven years – the hours and hours spent in front of the mirror rehearsing the same steps over and over again, the taste of soggy ramen Hoseok hyung had let overcook last week, the screams of fans, the sound of his alarm clock, the look on your face when you told him it was over. There was no chronology to the kaleidoscope of fleeting glimpses of his past.

“What,” he breathed, hands shaking, eyes wide and disbelieving as his phone fell with a clatter on the table. He desperately wanted to ignore reality, but the stares that were all focused on him kept him grounded to the present.

Of course his first scandal would be linked to you.

Keep reading

Friends Part 1

Summary: You and Bucky are friends for a long time, but lately you start to develop romantic feelings for him. One day one of Tony’s parties everything changes but maybe not the way you wanted or expected.

Paring: Bucky x Reader

Words: 1947

Warnings: Fluffy and angst

Thank you @amrita31199 for beta this for me you are amazing 

credits to the gif owner

You never felt so inadequate in your life, when you left the house for one of Tony’s parties . You felt beautiful in your black strapless dress and high heels.  But as soon as you arrived at the party, you felt your heart being shattered.

You see Bucky with a beautiful blonde in his arms , when he sees you he comes in your direction kissing your cheek and pulling you to a hug “Don’t you look beautiful?” He says staring into your eyes, you smile at him with your best fake smile“Well I tried, apparently not as hard as your date.” You say sounding bitter even if that is the last thing you wanted to be or sound like.

Keep reading

The morning after her father died, the first thing Laura saw upon waking was Bobby, curled up around his Wolverine doll–the one that he’d carried out of the lab, through a sewer, bundled into the fake bottom of a crate in the back of a truck, up the 5, across the deserts of Utah, the Rockies, and the long flat north that came after. He had carried it through these woods, through this fight and this flight, and there he was sleeping, pudgy hands curled close around it.

Laura had read the comics Gabriela and the other nurses had brought in for them. They had been assigned to learn how to read briefs, maps, instruments, but Gabriela had brought Laura comics about heroes.

In the lab, they had taught Delilah how to drag poison from green veins, how to find the sharpest edge at her beck and call, to strangle. The day before, Delilah had shredded the life out of men with a screaming rain of pine needles. She had wrapped long grasses around Rhodes’s ugly bolo tie and dragged him down and down. But that next day, that dawning day, Laura woke up to see Delilah calling small yellow apples down from a tree blooming out of season.

It had been a story in a comic book, Eden. It had been fiction, a fantasy, a dream, a random set of coordinates. Logan had suspected they would find nothing when they got there. He had been sure.

Sometimes promises are fiction. Sometimes they’re written on the backs of twice-folded photographs. Sometimes the nurse with the steadiest hands whispers to you in the middle of the night come with me child, wake up child, curl up in this duffel bag, stay quiet child, believe me child, we’re going, we’re going, I’ll get you somewhere safe.

Laura had curled up in that fabric-walled darkness, clutching her backpack to her chest. She had her ball, the paperwork that was her life writ out, two battered comic books. A photograph with a list of whispered names. They were not supposed to have names any more than they were supposed to have birthdays or comic books or childhoods.

Kind hands were waiting for them at the end of this journey. There was refuge. There were new names, visas and school where no one should bleed for anything except loose teeth and ignored blisters.

Logan had scoffed, and Laura hadn’t listened. She had said her friends’ names over and over. He had pointed to coordinates in a comic book, and she had said her family’s names over and over. She knew, the way Logan never did, the way Logan never would, that some days stories save you. Sometimes a nurse calls you child instead of by number, and gives you flimsy precious pages to read in the dark.

They knew the comic books were comic books. Laura knew, before she ever met Logan and his smelly, hopeless self, that the X-Men were no gods among men. Flimsy pages—she understood flimsy. She understood the way things tore–pages, clothing, skin and ligaments.

But sometimes you can make the story real. “Eden,” they said. They pressed the coordinates hand to hand, whisper to whisper, and they ran. They promised each other, and they found each other there, at coordinates that had been nothing until they made them a waystation, a place to rest. A watchtower.

Laura had carried so little out of that lab. She had the metal that lined her bones. She had her family’s names. She had a set of coordinates in a battered old comic, and she would carry that forever. It wasn’t real, but she was. It wasn’t real, that Eden, that haven, but she had been there.

She had run shrieking into Rictor’s arms. She had cried on Bobby and danced around the hard cracked dirt with him, each swinging the other in wide circles. Logan had slept safe there for the last time. She would carry it forever. Fading, flimsy pages. A tired man with a funny beard.

They would go next over shallow valleys and dry rocky peaks. Delilah would hunt down a deer in the woods, walking silent on fallen leaves and little sprouts, calling death down green and blooming. Rebecca would cook it up over the fire Bobby raised from sparks, and Laura would lie on her back with her hands on her full rounded belly and pretend she was a lion. When they came down from the mountains, the wide low fields would roll out below them for miles. There would be so much sky.

But for now, in this morning, this dawning day–there was a little boy in a wood, who was the safest he’d ever been. There was a little boy in a wood, with a yellow Wolverine doll held to his chest and Laura sat there in the waking light, watching him breathe.

unpopular opinion

Gaston is a piece of shit.

I mean, come on guys. He dissed Belle’s father, he never listened to what she was saying, he tried to oblige her to their wedding, and on their so-called wedding day he told her that a woman should only raise children and that she can’t be an intelligent being.

The fact that the actor playing Gaston is pretty makes me mad because all the girls now are saying “Gaston is so cool and hot”, “Belle should have ended up with Gaston instead”

Why can’t you just see that Gaston is full of shit and belongs in a garbage can

The thing about Fitz is that he never expected Jemma to love him, ever. When he started to recognize his feelings for her, he hid them, SURE she wouldn’t feel the same way. You can see the resignation in his eyes when he gives her the oxygen, finally telling her he loves her only because it’s the only way he can convince Jemma to take the last breath.

“I love you, you see?” he tells her in not so many words. “And you’ll never love me back. I can’t stop how I feel, but I can use it for something good. Please, let me.”

And, of course, Jemma has no idea to respond to this except for hugging him and kissing him all over. But when she misses his mouth, Fitz takes it as a confirmation of his fears. He doesn’t expect her to bring him up to the surface; he expects to die.

When he doesn’t die, he finds that he’s not the same man he was. He didn’t prepare for the effects of his hypoxia any more than he prepared to deal with the consequences of his confession, and when Jemma leaves, he takes that as another rejection.

The rejection of his romantic interest was probably a blow, but again, it was something he expected. In the end, it was her apparent rejection of his friendship that hurt the most. He could have dreamed up a Jemma who loved him back, but instead he imagines a platonic Jemma who acts as a bridge between him and the real world. We know that this is Jemmaginary’s function because when Fitz finds another bridge by way of Mack, Jemmaginary tells Fitz that he doesn’t need her anymore.

By the time Jemma DOES come back, hoping to pick up their friendship where they left off, Fitz doesn’t know where to take it. And he could have said, “You didn’t love me back, how could you be so cold?” Instead he says, “We were partners for ten years, then I got hurt, and you decided that I wasn’t worth anything. I was just a random engineer to you, not a friend.” Of course, it wasn’t a very fair thing to say, and Jemma calls him on it. She doesn’t tell him, though, that she left because she thought it would help him. 

Does he decide then to say that she should have fell for him, that he deserved her love, that he thought she’d been leading him on? No, because Fitz doesn’t believe any of those things. In fact, he never mentions it again, except in a very vague way when he decides to leave the lab. Even then, he blames himself and not her. “I can’t work with you anymore. I’m not as capable, and the feelings I’ve tried to ignore simply won’t go away. I need to go somewhere else.” He blamed her before, but he doesn’t now, and Jemma is the one who has to fight for their relationship. He leaves anyway.

But Jemma doesn’t stop fighting. She reaches out for him when Real SHIELD tried to take over, and she creates the plan to smuggle the toolbox out of enemy hands. If she hadn’t offered an olive branch, Fitz never would have thought they could be friends again. In fact, he starts to wonder if she wants to be more than friends, but after his awkward flirting falls flat, Fitz decides that friendship is all that Jemma wants, and he’s okay with that.

That’s why he doesn’t want to talk about what happened in the pod when Jemma asks to talk about it. Fitz is embarrassed and sees the conversation as pointless. After all, he has her back as a friend, and that’s what’s most important to him. So when he tells her there’s nothing to talk about, he’s telling her that he gets it and he’s over it. They can forget he ever said anything, as far as he’s concerned. It’s not until Jemma tells him that she wants to talk about it because she feels the same way that he decides to go slow and ask her on a date.

But of course, she is taken away instead.

He works himself to the bone getting her back, but when he succeeds, he clearly thinks they are going to pick up where they left off. He holds her hand, but doesn’t try to kiss her. Instead, he asks for advice on how best to help her and is told that finally going on that date might be the thing she needs. He lays on the charm but stops when she cries, reverting to the friend he’s always been. When she tells him the impossible, that there’s another man, he decides to go back to friend mode permanently. 

It doesn’t help, though, when Jemma starts to make advances. She told him, though, that there’s another man, so what does that mean? Fitz tries to back off and save his rival like she asked, but eventually they get into a fight about it. Jemma tells him that he’s being too good, and he asks her what else she expects him to do. He’s her friend and she asked him for her help, so he’s helping her. He doesn’t kiss her until she basically dares him, and even when she kisses him back, he assumes that it’s a one-time thing. She had feelings for him once, but this other man is clearly better, and he can’t compete. 

It’s not until later, when the other man is dead and he can barely live with himself, that Jemma asks them to start over. Then, Jemma carefully makes advances again. She knows he’s hurting, so she gives him time to heal while strengthening their friendship. When she has an excuse, she holds his hand. When it feels natural, they kiss. But still, Fitz apologizes for moving too fast, since he doesn’t want to assume anything. She tells him he doesn’t have to wait for her, and that she wants them to move forward.

So, they move forward.

It’s not until then that Fitz starts to believe that Jemma loves him, and it’s wonderful. Not perfect, but wonderful. So wonderful, in fact, that he decides he wants to ask her to marry him. Only he doesn’t, because he’s not sure what her answer will be. Even after everything they’ve been through, he still worries that she doesn’t feel the same way he does.

And when he gets abducted and brainwashed into doing terrible things, he honestly thinks he’s lost her for good. Still, he’s decided that he can’t love anyone else. He cuts off all other romantic ties and resigns himself, AGAIN, to loving a woman who will never love him back. When she approaches him, he can’t even bear to see her disgust. No one is more surprised than he is when she comes and embraces him, and you can see on his face how much it means to him.

One of the beautiful things about the hug is that it’s a testament to the friendship they have and have always had, but Fitz still finds his ways to tell Jemma that he doesn’t deserve her love anymore.

Now, their relationship has been left in a very vague place, but if you look at their history, you can get an idea of what will probably happen: Jemma will fight for him again, just like she always has. Her biggest enemy is usually Fitz himself, but luckily, she knows how to get him out of their way.

I feel like it’s an important thing to point out, not just because it’s an important part of Fitz’s character, but because it’s been extremely consistent throughout the seasons. Fitz has issues with his self-worth, so of course he doesn’t expect people to love him, but he is also kind and compassionate enough that he values other people’s feelings over his own desires. Of course, he’s not perfect, but he always tries to put other people first, even at his own expense.

So, while I feel sad that this is a big character trait of his, it’s also something I love about him. I hope that one of these days he actually has time to accept Jemma’s love for him, but you know, this is a Whedon show.

Josh Dun Imagine

Prompt: Josh is in a car accident 

It was late Friday night when you got the phone call.  Josh had gone out with some friends to celebrate him being back in LA.  You were equally excited to be back home and have a bit of a break, but you chose to stay home and enjoy doing absolutely nothing for the first time in months. You and Josh had spent all of last week in Jamaica, holed up in a luxury hotel to have a nice vacation together, so you didn’t even bat an eye when Josh told you that he was meeting some of his friends. You simply kissed him and sent him on his way.

It had been two or three hours since Josh had left when your phone rang.  Laura’s name popped up, along with a picture of her, Josh and you from Ashley’s wedding.

“Hi Laura,” you answered.

“Y/N?” She asked, voice broken and sounding almost hysterical.

“Laura? What’s wrong?” you asked, trying to make out what she was sobbing through the phone.

“It’s Josh,” she cried, and your heart instantly dropped down to the pit of your stomach.

“Mom—,” you heard either Ashley or Abigail say before there was shuffling on the other line.

“Hello?” you asked, becoming frantic.

“Y/N,” Ashley’s voice came through the phone, you could tell she’d been crying too, but she was more put together than her mother.

“Ashley, what the hell’s going on?  You guys are scaring the shit out of me. What about Josh?” you asked.

“They won’t tell us much over the phone. He was in an accident, and they called mom. They said he’s in a bad state, but they won’t say much else until we get there. Dad’s driving us to the airport, but it’ll be a while before we get a flight. Mom told them your name so they’ll release information to you when you get there. They took him to The Southside Kindred Hospital, but you’ve got to get there so you can figure out what’s going on. We’re all a bit in hysterics,” she said, voice rough with tears.

“Oh my god—,” you said, running around the house trying to collect your shoes and a jacket, before grabbing your wallet and keys. “Is he okay, Ash?” you asked on your way out the door.  You hurried into your car before speeding down the street.

“We don’t even know,” Ashley sounded frustrated. “Just call us when you get there and they’ve told you what’s going on. Get there quickly, please.  But drive safe because Josh being in the hospital is enough.”

“Of course, Ashley. I’ll call you as soon as I know what’s going on. Love you guys,” you said, knuckles whitening as you clutched the steering wheel.

Your mind was in a thousand different places at once the entire drive to the hospital, but when  you got there, you parked quickly before practically sprinting inside the emergency room and over to the receptionist seated behind a desk.  

“Can I help you?” She asks.

You look around frantically, “My name’s Y/F/N,” you blurt out. “Josh Dun— was brought here.. or I mean I got a phone call from his mom and sister saying he’d been in a car accident and he was here or that he’d be here.”

“What’s your relation to him?” She asked, typing away on the computer.

“He’s my boyfriend,” you say.

“Right, okay.  He hasn’t arrived yet” she says, looking up at you from her screen.  The ambulance estimated arrival time to be 11:20, so it should be any minute now.  If you’d like to have a seat—“ she motions towards the waiting room, mostly emptied tonight.  

You paced around the room instead, looking out the window, just to give yourself something to do, until you heard the bustling sound of the emergency room doors being shoved open.  

“We need IV fluids stat—“

“I need to get this leg stabilized—“

“Not until we take care of that laceration!”

It’s almost like the whole thing happens in slow motion, because you’re able to pay attention to every single detail being flown through the doors.  There’s three EMT’s, all dressed in dark pants and a blue collar shirt.  Then there’s someone dressed in scrubs with a wind-breaker looking poncho on.  They’re all looking rather frazzled, muttering medical terms that you don’t quite understand.  And then there’s Josh.  You don’t get a perfect view of him, since everyone else is hovering over his body, but it’s enough.  He’s unconscious, his eyes closed peacefully, almost like he was sleeping.  Then you notice the blood gushing out of his temple, dripping into his eccentric yellow hair, almost making it look like the ruby color he had last summer again.  

You have to cover your mouth and bite down on the cloth of your sweatshirt to keep from screaming.  

They keep pushing him along in the stretcher.  Two nurses hold open some double doors and before you know it, he’s being pushed away, out of your sight again.  You run after them all, not wanting to be left in the dark.  Josh needed you.

“Ma’am, you can’t go in there!” A nurse says, holding you back.  You push against him, trying to slip by, but it’s no use.  You’re hysterical and much too weak, so you let yourself all but collapse into the arms of this man instead.

“Where are they taking him?!” you say, a blubbery mess.  

“Our doctors are gonna take good care of him—“ he assures you as he helps you walk back to the waiting room.  You fall into the seat, curling your knees up into your chest and wounding your arms around yourself, just trying to hold it together.

It takes thirty three minutes for a doctor to come into the waiting room to find you.  He’s got a scrub cap and gloves on, which he removes as he walks your way.

“Can I see him?” you blurt out, your eyes full of hope.

“You’re Y/N?”  he asks.  You nod back quickly.  “Not right now, Y/N. He was in a very bad accident. It’s my understanding that the police will be in here shortly to tell you of the details of that, but I’m here to tell you about his medical condition. He’s in ICU now; we’ve got him stabilized. He is in serious condition though; the next few hours are crucial. His right leg is shattered, his arm is broken, too and he has several cuts and bruises; one on the right side of his head.  It was cut by glass, he has twelve stitches right now.  That injury may or may not have caused some trauma which could then potentially lead to some temporary memory loss or amnesia. But what we’re very worried about, is the internal damage. His entire body was bruised, and there was some internal bleeding in his lungs, which is not a good sign. They’re going to prep him for surgery now, to drain the fluids.  After we open him up, we’ll know the extent of the damage,” he pauses, staring down at the scrub cap he has in his hands, before taking a deep breath, “I don’t know if you’re a religious woman, Ms. Y/L/N but if you are, I would start saying some prayers. He’s not out of the woods yet. I’m sorry that I can’t give you better news, but as I said, it was a very bad accident and it’s very serious. But I will personally keep you updated, especially after his surgery,” the man finishes, patting you on the shoulder before he walked out and softly closed the door.

You stare ahead, stunned by everything the doctor said.  It was so much worse than you thought. Josh’s life was still in danger, and the doctor was worried he might not make it. Tears spilled out of your eyes as you stood up and started walking around the room, your hands finding your hair so you could give it a little tug, hoping the pull would relieve some of the fear flooding through you.  You wiped your tears away and tried to clear your throat so that you didn’t sound like the complete wreck that you felt like as you began dialing Ashley’s number.

“Y/N?” She answered right away. “How is he? Have you seen him yet?”

“I saw him coming in—” you said, the tears began stinging your eyes again.  “But not since they took him back.”

“What did the doctor say?” she asked.

“It’s bad Ashley. His leg and arm are broken and he’s got a cut on the side of his head but he’s in ICU and they’re prepping him for surgery because it’s really bad, like internally I guess. There’s blood in his lungs and they said he was stabilized but they don’t know what’s going on inside of his body,” you said, giving up on holding the tears back. “The doctor said we might want to start praying and it’s just really bad and I can’t fucking breathe in this waiting room they put me in. I can’t see him Ashley. I can’t go see him and he’s not okay.”

“Y/N, fuck, please breathe,” she says. Her voice was thick with emotion but it didn’t sound like she was crying. “He’s at one of the best hospitals in the state. They’re going to do everything they can. I’m sorry you’re there alone but we’re catching a flight out soon and we’ll be there in a few hours.  I called Tyler and Jenna, they’re coming too.”

“Okay,” you say, forcing yourself to breathe properly. “Call me when you guys get in.”

“Good. Just stay there.  Josh needs you to be strong. We’ll be there soon,” She promised.

“Get here safe,” you say, “Love you guys.”

“We love you,” Ashley says before hanging up.  

You scroll through your phone, wondering if you should call anyone.  You desperately wanted someone to be here with you, but everyone you considered calling either already knew, or was all the way back in Ohio.  You locked your phone and stuffed it back in your pocket, rendering the whole thing pointless.  

It takes Josh’s family over five hours to get to you.  In that time, you’ve been visited by the doctor twice, telling you that Josh was still in surgery, but that he was stable and they were doing the best they could.  You’d also been to the bathroom twice to throw up, and bitten your nails down to the skin.  

Tyler and Jenna arrive first.  They run through the double doors, hand-in-hand, both with exhausted, but concerned looking faces.  

“Oh my god—“ Jenna says when she sees you.  They both rush over, engulfing you in a hug.  You cling to them, crying into one of their shoulders.  

“We got here first.  There was a flight leaving that had two empty seats.  We told Laura to go, but she refused to leave Ash, Jordan, or Abigail.  What the hell happened?” Tyler says.  

“Fuck if I know! He was in a car accident and they said the police would come in and tell me about that, which they haven’t. I swear to God if he drove while he was drunk I’m gonna-”

“Y/N,” Tyler cuts you off. “Calm down. Breathe.”

You stopped talking and focused on Jenna rubbing your back as you counted your breaths.

“This isn’t real..” you say, as you lean your head on Jenna’s shoulder. “Tell me he’s going to be okay, Ty.”

Tyler sighs, “Josh’s been a fighter since the day both of us have met him. He’s always fought for what he’s cared about.  Music.  The band.  You.  He’s not about to give up that easily. He’s gonna fight through this.”

You let out a broken sob as you used the sleeves of your shirt to wipe tears away. Then you all sat there in silence for a while after that.  

Only a couple of minutes passed when two policemen walked in, looking around the room sadly. “Which one of you is Y/F/N?” One of them asked, looking at you like he already knew.

“Me,” you croaked out, sitting upright on the seat.

“We’re just here to tell you about the accident,” The other said.

“Okay,” you nodded.

“A few witnesses all gave the same story. But uh Mr. Dun was driving when a car suddenly swerved across the center line and hit him head on. The airbags deployed and the cars were spinning until Mr. Dun’s car hit the barrier. The driver of the other car was intoxicated above legal limit, and died at the scene. Mr. Dun was stuck in his car, which was pressed against the barrier, so it took a while for paramedics to get him out. He was unconscious when they arrived, witnesses said he was unconscious when they ran over there.” The first policeman said. “We’ve just printed off the pictures of the cars and the damage. These copies are yours.”

You reached out and took the papers, waiting until the police left before he looked at them. “Oh my god,” you gasped as you almost fell back on to the couch. Tyler helped you sit down before they looked at the pictures. Josh’s car was completely demolished. It looked like a pile of black and gray scrap metal. And you weren’t particularly religious, but you said another silent prayer thanking whatever higher power that Josh even made it out alive, while simultaneously begging for him to make it through the night.

You looked at the clock again, and was about to make some comment under your breath about how long this surgery was taking before the door opened and the same doctor walked in again. You stood up immediately, walking to the doctor. “Well?”

He looked around at the new faces in the room before continuing, “The impact of the collision physically caused a broken rib to puncture a lung. We are in the process of emptying his lungs of any fluid that’s making it hard to breathe. He’s still stable, though, which is good. He can’t breathe on his own, so he’s got a breathing tube. Tonight is going to be a big one, and the next few days will decide a lot, but we’re hopeful. His body is going through a lot, trying to heal itself. It’s up to him now and he has to fight to get better.”

“So that’s all you can do?” You asked, not sure if you should be relieved or not.

“For now. We’ll keep doing what we can for him.”

Dr. Wells nodded. “We put him in a medically induced coma, the body heals best that way, and it lets him sleep through the worst of the pain. As of now, we plan to have him in the coma for a week, but we will keep you updated. You should be able to go in and visit him soon.”

“Okay,” you nodded, not sure of what else to do or ask.

“I’ll come get you when you can visit him,” he promised.

You thanked the doctor before going back and sitting down, pulling out your phone to call Ashley.  You were just ready to ring her again, when her name popped up on your phone, “Just getting ready to call you,” you answered.

“We’re heading over now,” she said. “Is he okay?”

“He’s stable,” you said.

“Okay,” Ashley said, “See you in a few.”

You nearly dropped your phone when Laura and Ashley walk through the doors.  You sprint over and wrap your arms around the both of them, letting them hold you tight.  The rest of Josh’s family filter in behind them, all with tear stained faces and tired eyes.

“What’s going on?” Laura said, wiping her eyes.

Just then, the doctor reemerges.  “Ah, family I presume?”

“I’m his mother,” Laura says, outstretching her arm.  “How is he?”

“We’ve set his broken bones and put casts on, and we’re monitoring him carefully. He’s been stabilized, but you can go see him now,” Dr. Wells said. “Not all of you at once though, please. Just three of you for now.”

Laura nodded. “Y/N and Ash, come with me for now.”

“Laura,” you say, shaking your head, looking at Josh’s dad.

“Go ahead, son,” he says. “I’ll be in to see him soon.”

You nodded, following the doctor, “I just want to warn you, he’s pretty beat up,” he says before he opened the door to Josh’s room, letting the three of you in before he left. You stood frozen at the foot of the bed. Josh looked more than beaten and bruised; he was hooked up to machines and he had an IV running into his arm. The right side of his head was shaved down to the skin where there was a nasty looking cut just above his ear that stretched around the side of his head.

You heard Ashley and Laura whispering quietly to Josh, but you couldn’t make out what they were saying. You felt like you weren’t really here, almost like you were just watching a tragic movie play out, but you were brought back to reality when you forced yourself to understand that this was Josh lying in the hospital bed, fighting for his life right now.

Laura walked over and kissed your forehead. “We’ll give you a minute, then send the others in,” she said.

You nodded as they walked out the door and immediately you went to sit in the chair at Josh’s side. “Hi, love,” you said, voice thick with emotion as you entwined your fingers with Josh’s. “Wow, I hate seeing you like this.” you thought about what you wanted to say, although you were pretty sure Josh couldn’t hear you anyway. “You’ve got me so worried, baby. Your mum and dad, Ashley and Abigail, Jordan, Tyler and Jenna.  They’re all here, everyone’s so worried about you, babe. We love you so much. I love you so much, Josh, you’ve got to get better, okay? I want you to fight harder than you ever have before,” you said, looking down to where your tears were falling on Josh’s bed. “You’ve got to get better and pull through, okay? For me. I need you.”

You sat there for another minute, letting yourself cry and hold Josh’s hand. Y

When you walked back to the room, you sent the others in before sitting, curled up on a seta, not looking at anyone else. You sat there for a while with your head on your knees, thinking about Josh and how much you loved him, and how completely fucked your life would be if Josh wasn’t in it anymore.

You only look up after feeling someone’s soft touch on your shoulder.  “Why don’t you head home, love?” It’s Laura. “You need rest.”

You immediately shake your head.  “I’m going to sleep shitty no matter where I am, I might as well be here.”

Laura nods before sighing.  “We rented a hotel nearby,” she says, looking reluctant to leave.  “We’ll be back in a few hours,” she says.

Once they’re gone and Tyler and Jenna emerge from Josh’s room, you head back in, taking the chair near his bed.  “I love you. I love you so much,” you sighed, letting the steady beeping of Josh’s heart monitor lull you to sleep.

When you wake up, it was to a sore neck, the fast beeping of the heart monitor and the door to Josh’s room being thrown open quickly. “You need to leave,” A nurse says as she practically pulled you from the chair and a flood of doctors ran in.

“No, what’s going on,” you asked, suddenly very alert as you saw electric shock paddles.

“You need to go,” The nurse says.

You heard the fast beeping of the heart monitor suddenly turn to a long, steady, beep. “No!” you scream.  “Josh, no!” You push past his nurse before another pulled on your arms. “Don’t you fucking leave!” you yelled. “Josh please, wake up!” The nurses dragged you out just as the doctor ripped Josh’s dressing gown open and placed the paddles on his chest.

You were hyperventilating as you felt strong, somewhat familiar arms around you instead of the nurses. “Y/N,” You heard Tyler say.

“Ty, no,” You cried. “He can’t.”

“No, no, no no no no, fuck no,” you sobbed, collapsing into Tyler’s arms further, “I can’t breathe. He has to be okay!”

All you could think about was Josh, and no, Josh couldn’t be gone.  You clutched yourself around the middle, trying to put some sort of pressure on your body to hold it together.  But it was too hard, so you let Tyler hold you instead while you sobbed into the fabric of his sweatshirt.

It wasn’t until a nurse walked in that you could breathe again.  

“We got him back,” she says, sighing a breath of relief.  

You gasped as you felt air fill your lungs for what felt like the first time in hours. “He’s okay?”

“He’s stable again,” she says.

“Can I see him?”

“You need rest—“ Tyler interjected.  

“I need to see him!” you argue.  “I need to call Laura—“

“What and wake her up too?  You all need rest.”

You finally gave in and rested your head in Jenna’s lap as Tyler threw a blanket over you. You listened to the quiet noise of the TV playing and fell asleep again to Jenna running her fingers through your hair.

The next time you wake up, it was more peaceful. Jenna was whispering to Tyler about something you couldn’t bring yourself to care about. You stretched and sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you looked around. Jordan and Ashley were sitting in one of the chairs on their phones. Abigail was sitting next to her dad on the couch and Laura was by the water cooler.  

The doctor walks through the double doors just then, causing you to become more alert.  “Josh’s been improving significantly since he flat lined this morning. He’ll still be in the induced coma for the next few days, but if he keeps improving at this rate, he should be awake after that. You’re more than welcome to still come visit him, as long as you listen to the nurses,” he said giving you a look. “I will keep you updated, but just know he’ll still be out for a few days.”

They all nodded and thanked the doctor.

The next few days passed faster than you would’ve thought. Josh was slowly but steadily healing, and the doctor finally tells them that he thinks Josh would make a full recovery. You nearly melted with relief. You couldn’t help the nagging in your head that said even if he physically recovered, he still might have head trauma and memory loss.

Josh was starting to look better, much to your relief. His smaller cuts were healing, and the color was starting to come back to his face.

One week after his accident, you, Laura and Jordan were in Josh’s room as the doctor took out the breathing tube, and you all let out a sigh of relief when Josh started breathing on his own.

“We’ve stopped the medicine that’s keeping him in a coma,” the nurse says. “It could take anywhere for a few hours to a few days for him to completely wake up though. This is all up to him now. When his body is ready to wake up, it will. I know this is a hard time to be patient, but I don’t want you to get discouraged if he doesn’t wake up today, okay?”

All three of them nodded.

“Alright, Josh,” Jordan says. “You’ve kept us here for the longest week of our lives. Time to wake up now, bro.”

Josh didn’t wake up the first day, like you’d hoped he would.

You tried not to worry when Josh didn’t wake up the second day either.

By the time it got to the forth day they’d taken Josh off the medicine, you began panicking. “You can’t do anything?” You asked the doctor for what had to have been the thousandth time.

“He’s still recovering and his body is exhausted,” he says, “Give him time.”

You started losing track of the days and time, seeing as you didn’t leave the hospital for two weeks. When you woke up one day, you blinked and looked around to see that the sun had set, but it was still fairly light outside. The room was quiet, except for Josh’s heart monitor. You looked to the clock to see that you’d only been asleep for a couple of hours, but it was still early evening. You rubbed your eyes before you felt the same thing that woke you up in the first place: a slight pressure on your hand that was laced with Josh’s.

“Josh?” you asked, jumping up and sitting on the edge of the bed running your free hand through Josh’s messy hair. “Love, can you hear me?” you tried not to get too excited, but you knew that you hadn’t imagined Josh squeezing it. “Babe, if you can hear me, can you please try to squeeze my hand again?”

You waited and felt the slightest pressure on your hand again. Your eyes filled with tears of relief. You reached up to press the red button to call a nurse in, before you turned your attention back to Josh. “Are you waking up, love?” you asked. Josh squeezed your hand again. “Josh,” you sighed, cupping the side of his face. “Can you find your voice, baby?”

Josh sighed and you saw movement underneath his eyelids, but he kept his them shut as he squeezed your hand again, but for longer. “That’s okay,” you said quietly, afraid of being too loud. The nurse walked in, eyes wide as she looked at Josh and you. “He’s waking up,” you smiled.

She grinned at him. “I’ll go get Dr. Cochran.”

“Do you know who I am, love?” you asked, the question burning in his head. “It’s me, it’s Y/N.”

Josh squeezed your hand again and he made a small noise in the back of his throat that you thought sounded almost offended. You loved that it sounded crazy for Josh not to know who you were.

“He’s waking up?” Dr. Cochran asked.

“Yeah,” you smiled.

“Wonderful. I need you to step back for a few minutes,” Dr. Cochran says.

You hesitate and Josh squeezes your hand tighter than he had yet, but you pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Not going anywhere far. I’m right here.”

“She hasn’t left your side yet, Josh,” Dr. Cochran says. “Don’t think I could get her to leave now.”

Dr. Cochran and the nurse continued asking Josh questions, progressing to see if Josh could feel his feet, arms, legs, chest, hips. Yes, yes, yes. He could feel it all. “We’re going to turn all of the lights off, except for the lamp in the corner, okay Josh? It’s not too bright in here, it wont hurt your eyes. I know your eyelids feel heavy now, and I know you’re exhausted, but can you please try to open your eyes?”

You watched, with his heart pounding heavily as Josh’s eyes fluttered, but his eyelids stayed closed.

“I need you to try a little harder for me, Josh,” Dr. Wells said.

Josh let out a quiet, yet disgruntled sigh as his eyes moved rapidly under his lids. Dr. Cochran looked at you, then looked pointedly at Josh, nodding his head once.

You nodded before going and sitting on the bed next to Josh.  You took his hand in yours again,  “Hey love, it’s me,” you said quietly. “Been waiting here for an awful long time to see you awake again. I miss you. I miss your eyes.  Can you open up for me? Just for a bit, then you can go back to sleep.”

Josh’s eyes fluttered again, then finally opened and you let out the biggest sigh of relief. Josh let out a soft grunt, then let his eyes close again, blinking them slowly before he opened them again.

“I’m right here, baby,” you said softly, waiting for Josh’s glazed eyes to focus on you.

“You’ve been on a breathing tube, which is why your throat is sore.  Don’t try to talk yet if it hurts too much. I’m very glad to see you awake, Josh. A lot of people will be glad. You can sleep now, we’ll do some more tests when you wake up again.”

Dr. Cochran and the nurse left, and Josh’s eyes started drooping immediately. “Your family are here, Josh, I’m sorry they’re not in here right now. They’ll be in here when you wake up again.”

Josh squeezed your hand tightly as his eyes closed and his breathing evened out.

“I’ll be here too, promise.”

The next time Josh woke up was the next morning; Laura was by his side while you sat on the windowsill. The doctor ran some more tests and Josh cleared his throat once before he decided he needed to sleep again.

Josh didn’t wake up again until the next night. You were sitting next to Josh when he stretched out his fingers and you looked up to see Josh looking at you with a small smile on his face. You took his hand immediately and smiled.

“Hi,” you smiled.

Josh cleared his throat and looked over to the small side table.

“Water?” you asked.

He nodded.

“Don’t talk if it hurts too much,” you warned.

Josh shook his head. “Throat feels a little better,” he says. His voice was rough and scratchy, so quiet that you had to strain yourself to listen carefully, but Josh was talking.

You sighed in relief. “Good. You still look out of it.”

“How?” Josh asked.

You smiled. “You just look exhausted.”

“I’m so tired,” he sighed.

You kissed his forehead, “Go back to sleep, baby. I love you so much. Gonna be right here when you wake up.”

“Love you,” Josh sighed before he fell asleep again.

It took three more days for Josh to be awake longer than fifteen minutes, and for his eyes to clear up. By that point, the anesthesia had completely worn off, and Josh was looking much better.

Everyone visited constantly throughout the day.  Tyler and Jenna were in and out and Josh’s entire family had been staying in the nearby hotel for weeks now.  When everyone all finally left at the end of the day, Josh made space on the bed for you to lay with him.

“You scared the shit out of me, you know?” you whispered.

“Will you tell me everything, now?” he asked.  No one had told Josh what had happened, more focused on getting him better, since he was mostly out of it anyway and he wouldn’t remember. But now he was alert, and you forced yourself to open up.

“Car accident. Drunk driver hit you head on and it was bad. The car is completely wrecked, sorry about that,” you sighed. “What was the last thing you remember?”

“I was at the club. We were having a good time, but I really didn’t feel like drinking. I stayed with everyone for a bit, then I wanted to get home to you,” he said. “Hey Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“What happened to the other driver?”

You closed your eyes. “He didn’t make it.”

Josh tensed and squeezed your fingers tightly. “They died?”

“Yeah, baby. I’m sorry.,” you whispered.

“I almost died too?”

“You did for minute,” you said squeezing your eyes shut again, you let yourself inhale the smell of him before continuing. “I was right here, beside you, and you started flatlining.  They had to drag me out and do the whole paddle-thing.  I thought I was going to lose you.  It was the worst minute of my entire fucking life,” you whispered.

Josh squeezed your hand tightly, but you kept your eyes closed, ignoring the tears filling up as you thought about the seconds you thought you’d lost Josh.

“It was that bad?”

“They didn’t think you were gonna make it through the night. I’ve never been so scared in my life,”  you said.

“Babe,” Josh whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault. I’m just scared to leave you alone right now. Don’t wanna let you go,” you sighed.

“I don’t really want you to leave. But promise me something?” he asked.

“Anything.”

“After I fall asleep again, go home. Shower, eat some food, and try to sleep. I love you so much and I’m so grateful to you for being here but you haven’t left the hospital in what?  Three weeks? Ash and my mom will be back soon,  Ty’s here. I’ll be fine. You look like hell, love, and I’m a little worried,” Josh said.

You sighed. “I’ll shower and eat, but I’m not sleeping in the bed without you. I’m staying here until you can come home with me.”

Josh rolls his eyes but nods. “Fine. Thanks for being here. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you sighed.

Father

“Where’s Malfoy?” The vacant spot next to professor Sinistra immediately caught his eye. Usually he was greeted every morning with a “Late for breakfast again now, are we? You know you could just set an alarm for once like a normal person.” And Harry would respond with something among the lines of “I’m not a normal person, I’m the chosen one.” Then Malfoy would roll his eyes while Harry did a dramatic hair flip.

He always loved seeing Malfoy struggle to suppress a smile every time he did that, and had gotten quite accustomed to their morning ritual.

“Called in sick this morning. Migraine I believe.” Answered professor Mcgonagall.

“Odd. I don’t believe he’s ever been sick since he started working here.” Professor Sinistra looked a bit worried.

“Shouldn’t someone go check on him?”

“Yes, excellent idea Harry. Why don’t you go bring our favorite Slytherin a nice cup of tea? Maybe mention you still haven’t bought an alarm clock while you’re at it.” Neville always made comments like these and Harry still didn’t know why. He and Malfoy seemed to get along just fine but as soon as Harry suggested Neville should go to him to run an errand or something he always sent Harry instead.

“Uhm, well I don’t think I’ll bother him with my non existing shopping habits but I’ll go and have a look. If someone could cover the first couple of minutes of my second years…?”

“Yes of course Harry.” Sounded the answer from Neville, professor Mcgonagall and Flitwick, who exchanged some knowing looks with each other.

“Right then… I’ll go pay him a visit…” Harry gave his colleagues a strange look.

“You go do that Potter.”

“A task right up your alley.”

“Remember to be safe!” Called Neville after him. Sometimes Harry didn’t really get his co-workers. After giving them another questioning look Harry walked off towards the dungeons. It was too early to deal with their weird behaviour.


“Malfoy? Malfoy are you in there?” Harry got no response, but when he pressed his ear to the door he could hear heavy, irregular breathing. Someone was in there at least, and if it wasn’t Malfoy then Harry had to chase the intruder out. And if it was Malfoy then he might be in dire need of help since he didn’t answer.

He decided to open the door.

“Malfoy? Are you in here? I brought tea… “ Harry looked around in the room. It didn’t look like Malfoy was suffering from migraine. The torches on the sides of the walls were burning brightly and illuminated a true mess of a room. Clothes, books, quills and a couple of empty wine bottles decorated the floor.

“Malfoy?” The blond man sat on the middle of his king-sized bed on the far end of the room. He was hugging his knees, and stared out of the window looking out into the great lake. He didn’t respond.

Harry took some tentative steps towards the bed, careful not to trod on anything. “Are you alright? Minerva said…”

His words got stuck in his throat. The closer he got the more he saw. Malfoy was clutching a ministry letter in his hands, the date above the writing told Harry it had arrived the day before. But what shook him the most was that Malfoy was crying.

Silent tears were running down his face, showing no sign of stopping any time soon.

“What happened?” Harry put down the steaming mug of tea on the nightstand, shocked. The last time he’d seen Malfoy cry was during sixth year in the bathroom, just before he cocked everything up by nearly murdering him.

Something bad must have happened. Something really bad.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was barely above a whisper. He felt nerves pool in his gut waiting for the answer.

What could have upset Malfoy so much? What on earth could possibly have the power to break the man who even after the war and the trials hadn’t been broken. The man who had turned Slytherin from a mouldy and disgusting mess into a proud and fierce house again. The man who had been so strong that even Ron had started to admire his character, though he would never admit it.

“He’s reopening his case. He’s blaming everything on me. Everything.” Malfoy drew a couple of shaky breaths. He looked like he could pass out any moment.

Harry suddenly felt his insides turn to ice. It had been ten years since the trials. Ten years. That meant convicts could now ask for a do-over of their case.

He pried the ministry letter from Malfoy’s cramped up hands and read. His frozen insides fell out. Lucius Malfoy was pleading not-guilty, on the grounds that his son had forced him to join Voldemort’s ranks. His own son. He was blaming everything on his own son.

“I won’t let them do this to you. I won’t let them force you to re-live everything, I won’t.” Harry crumbled up the letter in his shaking hands. He wanted to punch something, or floo to the ministry and tell them exactly why this was not happening, or…

“Please leave.” Sniffled Malfoy. “I need to be alone right now.” It broke Harry’s heart that the man thought Harry could leave him alone when he was in such a high state of distress. If ever there had been a moment when Malfoy should not be alone, it was now.

Malfoy tried to wipe the tears from his eyes, tried to recompose himself. Harry caught his hands. “Don’t. Don’t do that. He betrayed you. He is your father and he betrayed you. You’re allowed to be upset.”

“I’m not, Potter.” He tried to free his hands while avoiding Harry’s gaze. “I’m fucking not, I should have been in class ten minutes ago. I can’t… “

“You can. Fuck you Malfoy, for thinking that you don’t even deserve to be upset about this.” Malfoy tried to pull his hands free again, and this time Harry pulled back. Without much resistance Malfoy fell towards Harry, who let go of his hands and wrapped him into a hug.

“Shove it Malfoy.” He kicked off his shoes and sat down on the bed, holding Malfoy tightly wrapped in his arms. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Malfoy didn’t protest anymore, suddenly he felt all of his energy drain away. He’d barely survived the first trials, repeating everything… It was too much to ask. He didn’t even have the energy to feel ashamed for crying in front of his former rival, his current crush.

He caved and he caved hard. “He is my dad.” Malfoy buried his head in the crook of Harry’s neck, his voice broken by tears. “What kind of monster do you have to be, in order to make your own father hate you?”


So I thought it might be fun to write a piece of this story every time I hit a memorable number of followers, in this case that’s 250. Is that a good idea not? Please tell me I have zero judgement skills.

I have reached 350 followers! Omg thank you guys! You can now you can read part two here

for 400 followers part 3 is here!

If you want more parts then you can follow me!

10 Abusive Men’s conversational tactics every woman should be aware of:

1. Domination of conversation - at any cost

It simply doesn’t matter what it takes - making up a story, repeating the same issue over and over again, increasing the volume of his voice, calling you out on unrelated-unreal issues, taking on a threatening pose to get your attention, getting angry if you don’t carefully listen to what he has to say, throwing a tantrum, accusing you of talking too much, beating down your words, I have even seen abusive men cause fights because they wanted to dominate a conversation with a woman. Last time I tried to talk to a woman, while abusive man was standing next to her, he actually physically dragged her away, just so she wouldn’t be able to get my attention, because I refused to give it to him instead. In their minds, this is reasonable, because they feel we owe them that much, and if we refuse to make them the center of attention, it’s aggression on our part, and any action to beat us down to submission is acceptable and “nothing else should be expected of him”.

2. “What I have to say is important at the moment - every moment.”

You were trying to tell a story? He immediately comes up with a vaguely related story that happened to someone he knew that is somehow suddenly more relevant than what you wanted to say. You were trying to prove a point? He’s going to prove a different point. You have a problem that bothers you? His much smaller problem is bothering him much more, to the point where you have to feel bad for bringing your problem up in the first place. You have an achivement you’re proud of? Wait until you hear what he has done at some point in time that right now feels more relevant to him. In his mind, what you have to say simply doesn’t matter and it’s on him to figure out how to slowly bring that down to you, so you’d finally shut up and accept that his confidence is to be worshipped, yours beaten down.

3. Personal attack

Focus will be on you only if it makes you look bad. If you dared to insist that you’re heard and given a basic bit of attention, or, heavens forbid, said something that goes against his opinions and actions, you will immediately find yourself under a personal attack. You’ll be called out on things that have nothing to do with the subject. You will be deemed unfit to even speak about issues that matter to you. Suddenly, even the issues that you have personal experience and endless statistical data and proof, are not yours to speak of because “he knows better”. You’ll be called slurs, humiliated, discredited, all your knowledge of the subject will be perceived as “silly” and “wrong”, not to mention you’re a horrible person for daring to speak your mind on the subject. The point of personal attack is to make you look bad, but you’re not supposed to notice how it makes him look way worse, you’re supposed to feel rightfully called out and humbled, and fail to notice how your basic human right of speech is being trampled on, how you’re being silenced and hurt by emotional and psychological abuse by a man who found himself threatened by truth you pointed out.

4. Double Standards

“I’m a man” is an excuse not to listen, not to sympathize, not to offer compassion, not to take responsibility for his actions, not to bother with “woman logic”, not to question the consequences of his actions, not to feel guilty for indulging in primarily male behaviour that harms women but is excusable because “all men do it”. “You’re a woman” is an excuse to hold you responsible for men’s actions, and obliged to please men, to maintain your social value and appearance up to certain standards, to fulfill all male expectations and fantasies and ideas about what you should be, otherwise what good you are for? And even if you do all that, you’ll end up reduced to a slur and disposed of whenever it pleases a man to do just that. And don’t be surprised, what did you expect? They’re men.

5. Social Truth

Logic, statistics, experiences, facts, consequences and practical knowledge all have zero value before men’s social perception of what’s going on. Men have already decided that it’s them who’s suffering the worst. They’ve already decided they’re the one who need better treatment and more privileges and liberation from oppression. Men have affirmed this with each other, they’ve agreed amongst themselves that women are oppressive, bother them too much, ask for too much, don’t give them enough, don’t do enough for them. How could women expect for their issues to be taken seriously when men don’t feel like they’ve done enough for them? Men will offer you countless examples where he was expecting something from a woman and she didn’t fulfil it, so how dare she imply she could be the one who’s oppressed? How dare any woman claim anything about her life, her body, her experiences, her problems? Men have already agreed they know better, they feel confident about it because his friends and male relatives and co-workers and bosses and acquaintances will all confirm to him he’s exactly right, he’s telling the truth, how could some miser woman now claim differently? She must be stupid. Truth commonly accepted among men will ignore all evidence, all male privilege, all objective truth, all statistics, all proof. They don’t examine it critically more than “is this going in our favour” and that’s all they need to yell it from rooftops, to violently shut down every woman’s voice claiming differently, speaking from different perspective. They have support. They have backup. Countless men will agree with them. It’s all they need. Truth doesn’t matter.

6. What they don’t consider lying

Nothing is lying. If a lie needs to be told in order for a man to get something out of a woman he otherwise wouldn’t get - it’s considered fair play, in his mind. How could you blame him? After all, if he didn’t lie, he wouldn’t get what he wanted? Isn’t this how all people do things? Isn’t it a way of life? How could you expect him to tell the truth when it wasn’t going in his favour? He won’t even feel guilty. But instead, if you don’t react to his lie the way you should have - in his mind - then you are the bad one. How could you not believe his word, give him your full trust and obedience and perfect reactions he so deeply deserves? How could you even consider that he would lie to you? You don’t know what’s real, you can’t act like he’s lying when you don’t even know if he is. He is excused in saying any lie at all, but you aren’t allowed to doubt it, otherwise how will he get what he wanted and feel completely free of guilt while doing it? You should enable that much to a man, to lie and get away with it, get all he wants, and to feel like a genius for tricking everyone in such a cunning way. Oh, and you shouldn’t feel cheated and lied to because, you know, it wasn’t personal, it was just so he could get what he wants, you weren’t a person to him in this entire scheme, just a prop, you should feel stupid for falling for it, but you know, it’s his win.

7. “I’m reasonable” voice tone

All your passion and emotions that get out of you while you speak that would normally be a proof of how important and valuable talking about this issue is to you, yet he decides to perceive as you obviously spouting nonsense from being too emotional. Does he know you’re telling the truth? Of course he does. Does he know how being invalidated and accused of being “too emotional” and “hysterical” hurts you? Of course he does. Does he care? No. All he wants from you in that moment is to adapt to perspective that benefits him, rather than the one you’re presenting - you know, the one that actually expresses what’s going on and leads to acknowledgment and resolving of your problems. He isn’t interested in you being in less pain or you speaking out the truth, or you struggling less or you bringing to light how much you’re struggling with. Be reasonable. Adapt male perspective. See yourself how men see you. Quit having your own perspective, you know that’s not reasonable. Quit showing emotions about an issue that is of a big personal value to you. Look at me. I’m reasonable. You mean nothing to me. Your struggles mean nothing to me. Be like that. Don’t mean anything to yourself. Be only a benefit to me. Then you too can pretend all your issues are made up. After all your pain means nothing in comparison to benefits we get from it. It’s easy to speak with “I’m reasonable” voice and straight, emotionless face while talking about an issue that doesn’t affect you whatsoever, and you don’t care about the one who is affected, and benefit from what they’re suffering from.

8. “How can you call me out when there’s worse men”

You should be grateful he isn’t worse. He could do worse. He knows he could. He saw other men doing much worse, and thought to himself “damn, I’m nice, this is how things are done when women don’t listen” instead of, you know, intervening and saving someone from abuse like a decent person would do. He saw how cruel men are in other parts of the world. He made sure to remember it and inform women what they could expect from worse men, to remind them to be grateful that he, a nice man, isn’t like that. Now, if you’re going to call anyone out, you should first make sure to call out every guy who is worse, otherwise how is this fair towards him? If a guy who did worse isn’t called out, but he, the “nice” guy is, that is the greatest injustice ever done to mankind, and he will feel hurt and things will be unfair for him. What about you, you ask? What about him hurting you that caused you to call him out in the first place? Oh what’s fair to you doesn’t matter, you are the one who needs to make the world fair for him, or, you know, he might get worse, and it will be entirely your fault, since you didn’t arrange the world to be absolutely and completely fair towards him.

9. “I decide how you should react/your reaction is a provocation.”

Your behaviour is decided by his rules, and every single emotion, thought and action you make should only be made in his convenience. It lies on the premise that only he gets to be a human being and show his emotions freely and react the way he wants, you unfortunately, do not get the human privileges, if you react the humane way - get upset when you’re hurt, get angry when things are unfair and infuriating, point out double standards, argue and demand that your word matters too, want to have your feeling acknowledged or even argue that you have a say in how you should be treated - you’ve overstepped, and suddenly you are all wrong and whatever he does to you in return is what you deserved by provoking him. That’s, right, you being a human being is a provocation, it’s a dangerous straying from the object you’re supposed to be - that you are in his eyes, and you have to be “shown your place”, because after all, his convenience is more important than your life, and you’re only there to obey him and make him feel good about himself. Even while he’s hurting you. Even while he’s using you. Even while you’re reduced to a less than a human being.  

10. “You haven’t considered this issue from my perspective enough”

After all, you should look at things from his perspective. But you do. There’s never been a moment you didn’t consider his perspective. Just as there’s never been a moment he has considered yours. And the mere idea of taking a moment to consider your perspective - if he’s even aware that you can have one, and that your words aren’t just there to be crushed until he gets his way - is offensive and crazy to him. Instead, you get called out for not seeing things his way enough. As if you’re the one who is inconsiderate and refusing to acknowledge that he is just a human and that you can’t expect that much from him. But you’ve never forgotten that he’s a human. And you never expected that much, just to not be continually hurt and used by him, and to be treated like a valued human being. But suddenly this is too much? Too much to expect from a fellow human being? Isn’t it a lot like he’s forgotten you’re a human being, and calling you out on something that he actually did? Cruel hypocrisy that he doesn’t even seem to notice because it’s so natural and normal to him to call you out for his own wrongdoings, and to attack you if you’re not willing to obediently take blame.

@women: If a man is talking in this fashion he will get worse, not better. Ditch him at any cost.

@men: this was a list of abusive behaviour, if you don’t do any of these, there’s no reason for you to feel called out, if you do feel called out, I have bad news for you.

Living with Jim Moriarty Would Include

Requested by two anons! (Seriously though I live for these little platonic things.)

Originally posted by twentyonekpoppilots


  • Yourself and Jim would have been friends for a long time so when he got bored of most other people he would have called you up, afterall, he didn’t find you too tedious.
  • Unfortunately to keep himself (and you) safe, you weren’t allowed to actually know where you two lived exactly. This made it quite awkward when you wanted to order things off Amazon. Jim would end up paying for a PO Box for you so you could get “little treats”.
  • Dancing to loud music in your shared flat. Jim takes your hands and twirls you around, mouthing along to the song while you laugh. 
  • Sherlock would work out Jim had a flat-mate from all the little hints he dropped. This would completely confuse Sherlock but he could never find out who you were.
    “They’re no one Sherlock. Well, no one to you, they are a lot to me.”
  • Jim would often rant to you about his day.
    “But how can they be so stupid? It’s painful.”
  • Running one of his phones. You text quite a few people from this phone (usually while Jim cooks dinner - sometimes he likes to “play domestic”)
  • He would actually cook for you a lot, when he had time.
  • Sherlock would realise it was you running that phone (even though he’s never actually met you) and you would tease him with little games. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself playing along, even though he knew it was pointless.
  • Jim would make sure no one ever got to you. You were his top security priority.
  • Jim would call you his “live-in” or “pet”.
  • He would joke that you and John should get along well but you just roll your eyes and tell Jim that you’re not his blogger.
  • Jim offers to run your blog but you laugh and tell him no.
  • He would often test his little plans by you first.
  • Using other people to talk for him would have been your idea (even if you had meant it as a joke).
  • He wanted to test it out by speaking for you when you go on a date, you tell him no and make him go on the date instead. He comes back an hour later with lipstick all over his face, “I hate you.”
  • Going on “dates” to the art gallery, the pool, the hospital.
    “(Y/n)!” Jim sings, “Come out for a date with me!”
    “A date?”
    “Yes of course. Not really. I need to scout out the location. Come come.”

  • Buying him a tiara. 
    He wears it.
  • Playing chess. But not proper chess. You play it together as if it’s a real battle, just charging all the pieces together, with dramatic audio from you and Jim in silly voices.
  • Jim sometimes sleeping next to you in bed because your breathing helps him think. 
  • “No one will ever get to you. Not Holmes, not Watson. No one.”

Related to: Living With Sherlock Would Involve
Masterlist

To Become A Hunter [3]

Previous parts

Characters: John Winchester, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Sister!reader

Words: 3800+

Warnings:  John’s A+ parenting, implied verbal/physical abuse, sort of bad mental health (I don’t really know how to describe it)

A/N: I think I’ve said this before, but I just want to emphasize, that this is just a version of John. It’s not necessarily how I see him - this fic resembles that better - but I’ve twisted and molded his character for the sake of the story. There really are many ways to interpret the guy, and this is one of them :) Also, this is the first part of the “finale” (they’re named 3 & 4). It was too long, so I split it into two. I’ll drop the other part tomorrow :)

May I recommend a song? Trainwreck - Banks - This isn’t a song fic, and I haven’t even looked up the lyrics, but I listened to it while writing this and now I associate it with the fic :) 

Originally posted by yaelstiel

Originally posted by yaelstiel

Your name: submit What is this?

”Who is it?” He asks again when he’s only greeted by silence, as he rubs his eyes with his free hand, trying to blink away the tiredness.

And after a couple of seconds, a voice that makes his blood run cold, fiery ice spreading through his body, answers.

”(Y/N).”

At Stanford, Sam sits up in his bed in an instant. So fast that the blonde in bed next to him stirs in her sleep. His breath catches in his throat.

From being barely awake when he answered the call that brought him back from slumber, he’s now as alert as he possibly can be. He’s been scared for this. No, he’s been waiting for this. A call in the middle of the night. The person on the other line telling him someone is dead. Or that they themselves are dying. He’s had this nightmare many times before.

Keep reading

Taster(Yoongi x Taehyung x Girl Smut)

This is just a oral smut, but I hope you guys like it! <3 


“I don’t understand why we have to do this.” You complained with your arms crossed over your chest as you stare ahead at both of your best friends. Each one of them looked back at you, as if it was perfectly fine almost as if you were the one overreacting about their request.

“Why not? It’s just to prove a point.” Yoongi shrugged taking his cross arms and shoving his hands into his pants pockets.

“Yeah and the point is that my tongue is better.” Taehyung almost glared at Yoongi, his fist almost balling up at the pure anger that was welling up inside of him.

“Well then that’s why we are here. So that y/n can tell us what she thinks. Because she owes it to us.” Yoongi deadpan stared at you a cynical smirk appearing on his lips. “Unless she wants the rest of the boys to know about her oral fetish.” Yoongi chuckled.

“YOU SWORE YOU WOULD NEVER TELL!” You shouted slamming your balled fists against the cushions as your whole body became painted in red.

“I did swear it, but you also swore to us that you would always be here when we needed your help.” He reasoned turning the tables on you.

“You can go and get any girl. Why me?” You asked scratching your head in frustration pressing your back against your couch cushions.

“That’s the perks of being a fucking friend, y/n. Best friend at that because we don’t have too many. But if you don’t want to do it, fine then we will go ask someone else.” Yoongi didn’t care he was one to say what he needed and if you didn’t agree he was done trying, he didn’t beg too hard and you had to learn how to deal with it.

You watched the both of them walk towards the front door Yoongi grabbing at the knob, and for some reason you became full of anxiousness and nerves all at once. Afraid that if they left, another one would be lucky to feel what you had wanted to feel all these years. You were somewhat attracted to your best friends, but you couldn’t act on it because you wanted all of them. It was hard just choosing one and if that made you a slut so be it. And when it came to lips, or tongues, or deep ass raspy voices both Yoongi and Taehyung toped your lists with approval. And this whole stupid thing, started behind someone asking your friends who would be better at head Taehyung or Yoongi. Of course, both men tried to defend themselves and say why they thought they were the best. Namjoon was on Yoongi’s side, Hoseok was on Yoongi’s side, but Taehyung and Jimin were on Taehyung’s side and Jin was undecided. So, now here you were the only one who could be the deal breaker. When you heard the request, you sunk into your couch, it had been a hard day and all you wanted to do after your long night shift was watch TV and forget about the species called humans. But your best friends on the other hand didn’t think that you should have any rest today. What would be so bad about seeing them both on their knees in front of you? Being ever so eager to taste you, to get you off. You had spent countless nights with your own fingers buried into your pussy slick with your spit and juices imagining that it was them instead. With the door opening wide you squirmed to get on your knees looking at them.

“N-no! Please.” You whined but Yoongi acted as if he didn’t hear you stepping outside with Taehyung hesitating behind you. “YOONGI please!” You shouted balling your first up into the back of the couch. “I.. I want to do it! I’ll let you do it.” You jutted out your lower lip sinking into the cushions a bit.

“You’ll do what?” Yoongi asked walking back into the door to look down at you, his eyes holding a hint of excitement and uncertainty.

“You know.. Let you taste me.” You whispered the last part, Yoongi took long strides to you gripping your chin within his fingers lifting your head and your body followed instinctively as he searched your eyes.

“Speak up little girl, I didn’t hear you.” He cooed in a deep somber voice, one that made your leg squeezing together as the heat was quick to rush through your body.

“I said you can taste me!” You said a with a bit more confidence, Yoongi smirked leaning down to crash his lips against yours taking your breath away within seconds. He tilted his head to the side, sucking on your bottom lip playing with the flesh until he got impatient, sliding his tongue into your mouth he sucked on the pink muscle dominating the kiss. You let out a string of moans against his lips trying to keep up with his motions, his wet tongue locking with yours and flicking in the most sensual ways making your heart skip beats, if he could do this with just a kiss then imagine what he could do to your other lips.

Taehyung wasn’t happy that Yoongi was getting all your attention. Shutting the door, he walked to stand behind you, pulling your hair to break your heated kiss with Yoongi. He tilted your head back giving you seconds to swallow air before he was kissing you instantly shoving his tongue into your mouth. Taehyung was just as a sloppy kisser as Yoongi was. His nose pressed against yours as your lips molded, his kiss was a bit more demanding than Yoongi’s was who was just watching the scene unfold in front of him. He had to admit to himself it was hot to see how you and Taehyung made out, he could see your breast getting hard against your shirt and though he was sure you had on a bra it was way too easy to tell that you were affected.

You kissed Taehyung until you were dizzy, your hand reaching up to tap at his face gently, his tongue sweeping across the roof of your mouth and over your teeth. He pulled back slowly letting you get more breath as he looked down at your reddened lips. He smirked at himself, helping you turn around to sit you on the couch he licked his lips getting on his knees.

“Who do you want to be first me or Yoongi?” He asked softly stroking the inside of your bare thighs. You looked down at Taehyung who seemed eager to go and prove himself to you, Yoongi on the other hand plopped down on the couch and you could tell that he was in no hurry. You bit on your bottom lip looking back at Taehyung leaning back starting to unbutton your shorts and slide them down your legs.

“I want you Taehyung.” You said sensually as soon as your shorts were off. You threw them on the ground beside Taehyung and he gave you a boyish grin starting to pepper kisses along the inside of your thighs. Yoongi wasn’t really phased by your little act, he knew you wanted them both but he would wait to leave you begging for more.

Taehyung was more than eager, he was licking up the inside of your thighs kissing different spots to mark you with hickeys from his plump lips. His brown hair looked so soft, brushing against your panties causing you to lightly gasp. You didn’t know why you felt so jittery and alert, maybe it was because you were about to get head from Taehyung or maybe because Yoongi was watching you, maybe both. Taehyung pulled at your panties, and lifting your hips you helped him take them off your body. He spread your legs wide making you bend your knees as his hands held onto your shins. He leaned forward looking up at you, his tongue darting out to slowly lick up and down your bare pussy. You let out a tiny gasp, your hands running against the cushions of the couch and your hips bucked lightly an instinct that you were trying to calm down at the moment. Taehyung was pleased with this, his tongue repeated the motion licking all over your outer lips. He kept his eyes on you, his tongue dipping between your pussy lips, slowly he licked up and down your slit teasing you but making sure he was tasting everything.

“You’re so wet for me already. Just imagine if I was to fuck you.” Taehyung rumbled out, his voice deep because of the arousal in his system even the air itself was something that was changing in the room. Taehyung let his tongue move to lick against your clit long slow strokes against the bud causing you to lift your hands up and run your fingers through his hair. Your back arched, hips pressing against his face against as his tongue roamed around your clit, your juices starting to drip onto his face. He let his lips around wrap around your bud giving harsh sucks that you felt in your core. He slipped his tongue from your clit letting his mouth cover your pussy as he shoved his tongue inside of your warm pussy. Taehyung moaned at your taste, his nails digging into your flesh as he moved his head side to side, letting his thick tongue press deep inside of your pussy. Taehyung made his tongue curve, vibrating it slightly against your core searching for that one spot that would make you lose your mind. He continued to let his eager tongue press against your wet pussy, thrusting in and out at a rapid pace until he heard the change of your voice. How your back arched as your hands tightened in his hair. You pulled him closer to you, letting your hips press hard against his face. He let you, drinking up your juices eagerly thrusting against your spot even though your essence was all over his chin. Your stomach tightened up it felt so good to feel his wet pink tongue fucking your pussy. Taehyung was skilled, he had your lower stomach tightening and your eyes drifting shut as your cries got louder for him, your body moving to slump over a bit.

“Taehyung! I’m going to cum, please god don’t stop fuck- right there!” You rode his face against the couch your toes curling as the hot white flames danced against your skin. Your back arched up and your voice rang out his name as your pussy tightened around his tongue and you came for him giving all your essence to him. Taehyung dug his face deeper against your pussy swirling it so that he could suck up your cum and clean you up. He pulled back from you after slowing his tongue down giving a lazy smile as he licked his lips. He waited for you to settle down as he kissed on your skin.

“Did you enjoy it?” He asked softly letting his nails ease up from your skin.

“It was fucking amazing.” You breathed out slightly, your pussy was quivering and still dripping from how you felt. Taehyung leaned forward to brush his lips against yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth so that you could kiss him back before he was pulling back once again. He gave a cocky smirk in Yoongi’s direction who seemed unimpressed waiting for him to get up and go sit on the couch. Yoongi sat up, pushing himself off the couch he walked over to you standing in front of you.

“Are you ready for daddy to make you feel like a real woman little girl?” He asked and naturally his voice was deep but right now, you could feel the juices just dripping from your pussy as he watched you. Nodding your head, you bit on your bottom lip, slowly spreading your legs wider for him.

“Yes daddy, I want you to eat me until I can’t move.” You chewed on your lip wanting to tease him back because you wanted him to leave you speechless.

Yoongi gave a smirk, dropping to his knees slowly he leaned forward looking at you. He let his hands slide up to grab at your hips jerking you forward to press your ass cheeks against the edge of the couch. You gasped slightly, watching as he leaned attacking your heat with his lips. He nibbled on your clit his hair brushing against your lower stomach as he attacked your pussy. His mouth moved fast sucking on your clit his head pressed against your center. He had you shaking in the position you were in; your hands were already gripping tightly at his hair pulling on the black locks. It felt too good, your voice wavering as he ate you out. He let his tongue pull back to lick up and down your clit, a harsh and thick tongue against your slit. He shoved his tongue into your wet entrance and you swore you heard him release some sort of a chuckle. Looking up at you with dark eyes he pulled your hips closer to his face not letting you escape as his tongue danced against your walls.

“Y-Yoongi. P-please!” You were spent, you could feel your pussy tingling from how his tongue jammed against your spot taking him a few thrusts to find it. He let his tongue vibrate inside of you, curving and flattening tasting all your nectar. His dark eyes unraveled you, made you feel exposed and so naked though you still had on your top. Yoongi used his hands to move you back and forward to ride his face, his chin and mouth becoming covered with your juices. He didn’t care, he was determined to make you lose your mind, he couldn’t get enough of your cries how your hands pulled at his hair tighter, how you were arching your back and squirming, as if you were trying to push his head away and get more from him at the same time. Your body was spent he could see it, he decided to make slurping noises, taking all of you juices. He let his hands dig into your hips he lifted them up a bit, causing your upper body to lay back until he was pressing one knee down against the floor tilting you upwards. He moved one of his thumbs to rub at your clit, his thumb stroking at your clit in a circle harsh and quick. Your hips wiggled and you felt your stomach tighten again for the second time that day.

“HOLY FUCK!” You shouted at the top of your lungs as you came on his tongue. You thought that Yoongi was going to stop but instead he continued to let his tongue play with your pussy, moaning and growling against your skin. He let his free hand slap at your ass cheek turning it red, your breath hitched and your hands pulled harder at his hair, the overstimulation setting in your system as he continued to taste you. Your eyes rolled back lips hanging open as he continued to devour your pussy tapping his thumb against your clit. Your hips jerks and jolted a third orgasm rippling through your body once again. Yoongi slowly let his tongue relax on the inside of you before he was pulling back from your pussy letting your hips rest on the couch. You were spent, taking deep breaths as your shirt stuck to your body. Hair plastered against your face, limbs twitching as you started to come down from your high. Yoongi licked his lips in front of you. You were going to sit up to say anything, instead he leaned over you and grabbed at your hair crushing his lips against yours before he pulled back.

“Don’t say anything, just repay me with your tongue next time.” He winked at you pulling back. “Do we really need her to tell us who is good?” Yoongi asked Taehyung as he rolled his head side to side.

“Well..” You stated sitting up looking at the both of them.

“I think you both are very good at what you do. And I would say that you both have your own talents when it comes to giving head and pleasing me. But maybe you should ask Hoseok why he is my favorite when it comes to giving head.” You watched as both of their mouths dropped open and grabbing at your shorts and panties you walked towards your room as the questions started up.