overwhelming enthusiasm


☀️ Known as the “Stone of Success” as it promotes directed energy and enthusiasm to overwhelming or difficult tasks.

☀️ Clears any aura of unwanted negativity, for example would be best worn when interacting around someone you have had a disagreement with or in times if tense family interactions within a home.

☀️ Citrine does not actually absorb negative energies, but merely disperses them, thus the stone is so strong and self reliant that it doesn’t actually need to be cleansed. With this, it is a wonderful stone for promoting ongoing happiness and optimism.

☀️ On the other end of the spectrum, it can be worn short-term for a quick boost in times of sadness or turmoil as a fast way to release tension and cleanse negativity, helping prevent the situation from worsening.

☀️ Enhances self acceptance, happiness and courage in social situations, while bringing a sunny, open disposition to the wearer. A powerful confidence booster that blocks thoughts of self doubt of fear.

Masterpost: Autism and Vocabulary

As a writer, we’re sure you are aware that words are important. You can’t always substitute one for another because they all have their own depth of meaning and their own subtleties. So if you want to write an autistic character, you’ll have to refer to autism using the right words. This post will help you do just that!

Autistic person? Person who has autism? Which one should I use?

This is a highly debated question. You might have heard “You have to say “person with autism” because you’re talking about a person first; the person is not defined by their disability!”. While this is a nice thought, it is largely misguided, and this way of talking are mainly used by non-autistic persons while talking about us. The autistic community doesn’t like this “person-first” language very much for several reasons.

First of all, if you need to use specific language to remind yourself that we are people, you may have a problem that no amount of linguistic workarounds can solve. We say “a French person”, not “a person who is French” or “a person with Frenchness”, because we don’t need to remind ourselves that French people are people. Why should it be different with autistic people?

The second reason most of us don’t like saying we are “persons with autism” is that our autism is not something that we carry with us. We are not a human person + a terrible disorder. We are fundamentally different. Being autistic is an integral part of who we are as people, and touches every sphere of our lives. If someone somehow managed to take away our autism, they wouldn’t reveal the “real us” that was hidden behind it: they would create a whole different person. We can’t be separated from our autism, and this should be reflected in the language you use while talking about us.

So ideally, you’ll want to use “autistic”, as an adjective: Cat is autistic, they are an autistic person. Some of us sometimes use “autistic” as a noun as a shortcut, when we’re tired of repeating “people” all the time, but it’s best to avoid it when you can, especially if you’re allistic.

What you really need to avoid is “a person with autism”, or heaven forbid “a person who happens to have autism”, “a person who suffers from autism”, “a person who lives with autism”, or any variation thereof. I’ve also seen a few people write “an autist”, but I don’t get why they do that. Please don’t do it.

And please don’t refer to us as being “on the spectrum,” we don’t need a euphemism to soften the blow of the word “autistic.” We are autistic! Even those who don’t seem disabled. Please remember that, while it is all too often misused in an insulting or pejorative way, “autistic” is not a bad word. Don’t be afraid to use it! In fact, using it more and in a positive way is the best way to stop it from being misused as a pejorative.

You keep using these words I don’t understand…

Alright, let’s get a glossary going! We’ll update this post whenever we use a word that could be hard to understand (if we can remember to do it…). If there is any word on the blog that you can’t understand, check if we’ve explained it here. If we haven’t, shoot us an ask and we’ll do it ASAP. :)
All of the titles are clickable and will take you to the corresponding tag so you can check out everything we’ve written about a subject.

AAC: Augmentative and Alternative Communication. Encompasses all means of communicating used by nonverbal people which are not spoken/sign language, such as using a text-to-speech device or a pictogram system to communicate.

ABA: Applied Behaviour Analysis, the most common type of “therapy” autistic children are subjected to. It can have lots of negative long-terms effects on the person’s life, such as PTSD or vulnerability to abuse.

Ableism: Treating disabled people (including autistic people) poorly because they are disabled.Treating someone differently because they behave in autistic ways, punishing autistic people for stimming, forcing nonverbal autistics to communicate verbally (and ignoring other types of communication), etc. are all examples of ableist behavior.

Alexithymia: Difficulty identifying one’s own emotions, very common in autistic people. They may not know how they feel at all, or simply unable to name their feelings. They are often unable to answer the question “How are you?” or “How are you feeling?” and may be aware only of whether they are feeling “good” or “bad” (and sometimes not even that).

Allistic: Someone who is not autistic. Used as an adjective and sometimes as a noun.

Asperger’s Syndrome: An outdated diagnostic term for an autistic person who is generally able to communicate verbally at a typical age and shows interest in social relationships. This is no longer considered to be a thing which exists. (See our masterpost on functioning labels.)

Autistic: Someone who is autistic (ie the subject of this whole blog) (I don’t know why we added that to the glossary)

Cure Culture / Curism: The attitude held by many allistic groups (most notably the hate group “Autism Speaks”) that autism is a disorder or disease which should be eliminated from the human race and place a priority on “curing” it. This is similar to the old belief that homosexuality is a disease that should be cured, and just as harmful to autistic people.

Disability: There are two main definitions to this word: 1- Not being able to do something that the majority of people are able to do. For example: hear (deaf), see (blind), smell (anosmic), walk (para/quadriplegic), etc.  2-Being impaired by a physical/mental difference in a way that restricts one’s professional, social, personal, or leisure activities. Depending on the definition and personal opinions, autistic people can be considered disabled or not disabled.

Dyspraxia: Difficulty with gross and/or fine motor skills, very common in autistic people. To a casual observer they may appear clumsy, often dropping things, walking into things, or tripping over their own feet (gross motor skills), or with poor handwriting, poor ability to hold a writing instrument, etc. (fine motor skills).

Echolalia: Use of verbal repetition to communicate, usually used by those who are not fully verbal. Words and phrases can be immediately repeated directly (“You OK?” “You OK.”), or with some changes (“Are you OK?” “I am okay.”). They can also come from memory (“Who gave you that?” [Darth Vader voice] “I am your father.” = my father).

Executive Dysfunction: Difficulty with executive functioning; skills used to make decisions and carry out tasks. Many autistic people have problems with this. They may be unable to make what appear to be simple decisions or figure out how to accomplish a simple goal. They may know exactly what they need to do but be unable to get their body to move to do it. It has been described via metaphors in a few ways: one is having all the ingredients to make a cake but no recipe, and being expected to make the cake, but having no idea how to do it. Another is that the body is like a horse and the brain is the rider, and the rider tries to get the horse to move, but it simply won’t budge.

Functioning Labels: Outdated and inaccurate (but sadly, still commonly used) labels for autistic people based on a narrow set of criteria. Those who don’t communicate verbally are normally considered “low-functioning”, for example, and those who can are “high-functioning”. See our masterpost for more information on why these labels are damaging and should not be used.

Hyperacusis: When a person is extremely sensitive to sound and the world sounds far louder to them than to others. It is often extremely painful, like having the volume on the world turned up way too high, and can be disabling. Many people with hyperacusis have or develop tinnitus (a constant sound, often ringing, usually caused by nerve damage in the ears).

Hyperempathy: Having far more affective empathy than a normal person. This can result in things like crying often, being unable to comfort upset people because their emotions are too overwhelming, etc. Some people feel hyperempathy all the time. Some have it only sometimes or for some people, or for inanimate objects.

Hypersensitivity: A blanket term which means “being more sensitive than most people to something”. When it comes to autism, it can refer to several things. Most of the time, it is used about sensory hypersensitivity, such as sensitivity to sounds or bright lights. There is also emotional hypersensitivity (easily getting hurt feelings/responding very strongly to positive feelings).

Hyposensitivity: The opposite of hypersensitivity, some autistic people feel a lack of sensory stimulation. They feel understimulated and may constantly feel the need to seek sensory stimulation. It’s important to note than an autistic person may be hypersensitive in some ways and hyposensitive in others, or at different times.

Infodumping: Sharing a large amount of information on a single topic all at once, often without pausing or allowing others to speak, due to overwhelming enthusiasm for the subject. It is usually done on subjects of special interest.

Low empathy: Some autistic people feel reduced or no affective empathy for other people (do not identify with their emotions or feel inspired to a certain emotion when they see others having that emotion). This does not necessarily mean that they do not care about the emotions of others - some may not care, some may care a great deal - only that they do not feel what others feel. Some people with low empathy for other people have hyperempathy for inanimate objects or fictional characters.

Meltdown: When the brain is too overloaded with sensory information or stress and can no longer function properly, an autistic individual may have a very violent reaction, called a meltdown. The person melting down is generally in a lot of pain. They might scream, throw things, yell curse words and insults, cry, hurt themselves or other, and try to hide themselves in absurd locations like under couch cushions or behind doors.
This neurological event cannot be controlled or stopped once it begins. It can be made worse by interfering and adding more sensory input (by touching or talking to the person) and usually will not subside until the person is left alone to calm down. 

Neurodivergent/Neuroatypical: Having a neurology which is different from the most common ones, such as being autistic or having ADHD. Some people include mental illnesses in this label, some do not.

Neurodiversity: The philosophy that in order to succeed, survive, and thrive, the human race needs many different types of neurology, and that neurodiverse people are an important and positive component of our species.

Neurotypical: A term which is defined as “having the most common type of neurology” (ie not autistic, without ADHD/dyslexia/tourette’s, etc.). Someone with a mental illness may or may not be considered neurotypical depending on people’s opinions.

Nonverbal: Someone who cannot or does not communicate verbally (using spoken language, often including sign language). Some autistic people are always nonverbal. Most are nonverbal under stress or overload. Some are always verbal.

Passing: Successfully behaving enough like an allistic person, particularly in social situations, that no one suspects you are autistic. Often important or even necessary for some people, especially when it comes to work situations.

PECS: One of the AAC methods which is most commonly used with autistic children (and sometimes adults). Stands for “Picture Exchange Communication System”. A pictogram-based system.

Proprioception: All of the sensory input which comes from inside your body. Includes your brain’s awareness of where the different parts of your body are. Autistic people often have very poor proprioception. As a result, they may have some type of dyspraxia, odd facial expressions, odd posture and walking gait, etc., all of which they may not be aware of until someone tells/shows them.

Sensory Processing Disorder: The clinical term for someone who has difficulty processing sensory information. Includes sensory hypersensitivity, hyposensitivity and differences. Too many details to process can lead to sensory overload, shutdowns, and meltdowns. Some autistic people don’t agree that it is a disorder, and prefer to talk of “sensory processing differences”.

Sensory Overload: When too much sensory information is being sent to the brain and the brain can no longer keep up. It becomes painful and the person can become incapable of accepting new sensory information until the brain has time to catch up (like a computer freezing when too many programs are open). This often leads to shutdowns and/or meltdowns.

Shutdown: A defense mechanism against sensory overload and stress. The brain attempts to shut out all sensory input by disconnecting from the environment. The person might no longer understand speech (or even fully hear it), be able to think in language (or to think in any way at all), move their body, or communicate in any way. Their eyes might unfocus and they may seem to be completely “out of it”. This state is usually a sign that the person needs to be left alone for their brain to calm down, but if pushed by those around them, they may switch to having a meltdown.

Special Interest: A subject which an autistic person is extremely interested in and will go to great lengths to learn everything possible about.

Spoons: A metaphor used to indicate the (limited) amount of energy a disabled or sick person has to devote to various tasks. There is a whole script blog devoted to this (@scriptspoonies). Many autistic people rely on this metaphor to describe their (lack of) energy.

Stimming: Repeated actions which are used to stimulate one’s own nervous system, done for various reasons including to soothe oneself/calm down, express emotions, communicate, or just because it feels nice. Common examples include rocking back and forth, flapping hands, clenching jaw, tapping a part of the body, making a repeated noise, etc.

Verbal: Able to communicate using spoken language.

This does not pertain to the h/c content of my blog, but this teeny tiny prompt tugged at my heart strings.

So here’s a teeny tiny fic!

(Setting: Middle School, Jeremy and Michael first meet.)

Jeremy sets his limited edition Legend of Zelda lunch box atop the scratched, chipped lunch table located in the far corner of the cafeteria beside the trash cans. Just as he’s unlatching the small clasp to get to his food, a boy flops down onto the stool across from him.

Jeremy jerks back and blinks in surprise.


The boy has dark skin and equally dark hair that’s spiked up toward the ceiling. He’s got a thick pair of headphones around his neck, and he’s got a red hoodie on that practically swallows his small frame. His eyes seem impossibly big behind large, square framed glasses, and his smile is wide, almost blinding.

“Uh, hi?” Jeremy chirps back, tone sliding upward in a questioning tone.

“I’m Michael Mell! M and M!” He pauses, whipping out a bag of M&Ms from his giant pocket. “Just like these!”

His enthusiasm is overwhelming, and Jeremy finds he’s having trouble keeping up. He shakes his head and breathes out a low sigh. “I’m Jeremy. Jeremy Heere.”

“Jeremy… Here? Did you just talk in third person?” Michael pauses to laugh. “You’re funny, Jeremy!”

Jeremy’s eyebrow twitches and his eyes narrow. “No. Heere. H.E.E.R.E.”

Michael tilts his head, face thoughtful, then nods. “I see. Sorry about that!” His lips curl back up into a wide smile, and he motions toward Jeremy’s lunchbox. “So you like the Legend of Zelda?”

Jeremy’s gaze shifts from the lunch box then back to Michael. He’s been in this situation before. Someone comments on his lunch box, he expresses his interest in this particular game, and then he gets called a loser and told that “halo is better.”

He’s prepared for harsh comments when he nods with his eyes glued to the table, but he’s greeted with a sharp gasp instead. He glances up to see that Michael’s smile is impossibly big.

“Me too!”

Jeremy waits for the catch, but Michael only admires the lunch box with wide eyes. He relaxes his tense shoulders and nudges the lunch box closer to Michael so the latter can see better.

“Can I?” Michael asks, hand hovering over the metal box. “I know this is a limited edition.”

Jeremy’s surprised by Michael knowing this, and he wordlessly nods, lips absently curling up into a smile at Michael’s loud “yes!”

For minutes, he silently watches as Michael inspects every aspect of the lunch box with wide, shimmering eyes. When Michael finishes and sets the box down, Jeremy leans forward and props his elbows atop the table, dropping his chin into one open palm.

“Why are you being so nice to me? No one else ever is.”

He watches as Michael’s face briefly falls into a frown before shooting back up brightly. “Because I think you’re cool!”

Conversation Hearts

Valentine’s Day fluff masquerading as 12.11 coda fic. Enjoy!

3.8k, ao3

They stop in Salina on their way home from Eureka Springs. It’s still too far from the bunker to bother picking up groceries. Ice cream would be a lost cause by the time they got it into a freezer, but for the sheer sake of variety some of the big box stores in Salina offers both novelty and a conveniently timed pit stop in the seven hour drive home. The traumatic loss of and subsequent regaining of his memories over the last couple of days has left Dean feeling a little too shaky to drive straight through.

Not to mention he really needs to get a new phone. It sucks to keep borrowing Sam’s just to check in with Cas, who insisted on regular updates once Dean had finally told him what had happened. Just in case he suffered a relapse, or any other side effects of being both cursed and cured by witchcraft in the span of twenty-four hours. If he can’t be home already, replacing his phone feels like a good start. He hopes has hasn’t lost all the pictures on his crushed phone, the ones he hasn’t had a chance to back up on his laptop back at the bunker. He should really do that more often, he thinks. Losing his memories has given him an entirely new perspective on things like that.

Keep reading

I feel like Jim was shy as a kid and that’s probably why he didn’t have any friends until he met Toby.

Like while other kids were playing outside, Jim preferred to be inside watching and helping his mom or (for a little while at least) dad in the kitchen. He always wanted to be near them because that’s where he felt most comfortable. Since Barbara went to school, Jim’s dad was home more often during the day, and little Jim picked up a lot of his beginner cooking skills from him. James Lake Sr. always wanted to have a nice dinner prepared for Barbara when she came home, something little Jim quickly adopted and took very seriously. Cooking made him happy, and seeing his mom and dad happy made him happy.

Other kids looking at him funny when he wanted to play pretend house instead of army or policeman during preschool did not make him happy. Being teased for bringing oven mitts and an apron much too large for him to show-and-tell did not make him happy. Being around other kids usually did not make him very happy.

So then Toby moves in across the street with his Nana, and Barbara insists Jim come with her to welcome the new neighbors. Jim is pretty much hiding behind her, gripping her pant leg, big blue eyes peeking apprehensively around the side, but Toby is a little ball of fiery energy. He’s chatty and excited, hiding the recent loss of his parents behind a big smile. He flies through a greeting before bouncing up to where Jim is hiding and bombarding him with talk. “Hi, I’m Tobywow is that a Spider-Man shirtI love Spider-Man but I think Thor is my favoritewho’s your favoriteis that flour on your armare you bakingmy Nana loves to bakeshe makes cookiesdo you like cookies?”

His enthusiasm is overwhelming, but Jim finds himself smiling, letting go of his mom’s leg. “I love cookies! Making them is fun.”


And from then on they become the dynamic duo, and with Toby as a good friend Jim comes out of his shell more and becomes more confident around his peers throughout the years. Although neither of them are still that comfortable around other kids; that’s why they’ve always stuck close by each other. And Toby fills the void of his parents’ loss with Jim’s company and companionship. They both give each other what the other needs.

Digressing but still related to little Jim and Tobes: they also totally played with that dollhouse Toby has in his room when they were younger and Jim definitely got an easybake oven as a birthday gift from Toby the first year they knew each other and he was so happy he cried

Endless Summer - Chapter Two

Pairing: David (Camp Camp) x Reader

Word Count: 1,470

(Chapter One)

Author’s Note: I am living vicariously through this fic because it is winter in Australia (although ‘winter’ is hardly the right word for it). I am absolutely loving writing this and I have the entire basic plot line planned out! Will hopefully have a chapter out every week until it finishes :) 

You were sitting alone in the mess hall, hands clasped around the mug radiating out the warmth from the coffee within. It was early - not even David was awake - but you had always loved waking up to watch the sunrise.

That’s why you hadn’t noticed the footsteps walking up behind you, and why the small cough caused you to jolt, sending droplets of scalding coffee spilling over your hands and wrists. You stopped yourself swearing, not wanting to set a bad example for who you assumed was a young camper, unable to sleep because of one reason or another.

Grabbing a thin napkin, you wiped off the coffee and turned around - a smile plastered on your face as you waited to solve whatever problem the mysterious camper had.

“Max?!” You were taken aback when you saw the cynical ten year old himself standing in front of you. “Is something wrong?” Immediately your mind jumped to the worst conclusions: Max had hurt himself, he was homesick, he woke up and everyone was missing.

“No… No.” He shook his head and couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes. “I just need to ask you a fucking question, okay? And you have to promise to not speak a word of this to anyone. Especially not fuckin’ David.”

“Of - of course, Max. My lips are sealed.” You knew even approaching you this close to the start of camp was a big step for Max, and probably the reason why he chose to do it during the early hours of the morning.

“Were you, um, were you serious?” Max lifted his eyes up to meet yours, finally at eye level as he stood in front of your sitting figure.

“Serious when, Max?” Your brows were furrowed in concern for the young child, your nurturing instincts taking precedence over any logical thought.

“When you said you were a musician.” The strength and bite of his voice had petered off with that last sentence, replaced with what you thought was genuine curiosity.

“Yes!” You jumped up to your feet with overwhelming enthusiasm. Max stepped back in response, looking at you with an air of hesitancy. Apologising, not because you were sorry, but because you wanted to placate Max, you sat back down; ensuring you were once again at eye level with Max. “Any particular reason you wanted to know?”

“I just wondered if you’d, y’know, help me with it? Music, I mean.” You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, eyes wide and mouth stretched into a smile. All you could do was nod, stopping yourself from wrapping your arms around the kid and holding him close. “Fuck, you’re just as weird as David.” He moaned, massaging his temples with a free hand.

“Oh come on Max, David’s not that bad.” You had smiled at the mere thought of David - though you blamed it solely on the opportunity Max had presented you with.

“Uh huh.” He deadpanned, clearly losing interest. “Well, I’d appreciate if you’d get me out of literally every stupid ass activity David plans this summer.”

“Max, if you’re willing to listen to me and participate in at least three things David asks, you got yourself a deal.” Sticking out your right hand you waited for Max to reciprocate the action.

“I like the way you negotiate, Y/N.” Despite the lack of emotion (aside from annoyance) on Max’s face, he placed his hand in yours, shaking firmly. “But I swear to whatever god there is, if you so much as breathe a word of this to David I will run into the woods just to deliberately find a bear I can lead back to camp.”

“I look forward to it, Max.” Somehow you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face, the possibilities arising with the opportunity you were given to spend the extra time bonding with Max seemed to be endless. “Any specific areas you want to work on? Playing an instrument, singing, writing songs…?” You trailed off, reaching behind you to resume drinking your lukewarm cup of coffee.

“I…” Max looked over both his shoulders and leaned in closer to you, dropping the volume of his voice, “I want to be able to… Fuck, this is the lamest thing in the world, but, I want to be able to express how I feel? Through songs. Actually, you know what, forget about it. Just forget I mentioned it entirely, Y/N.”

“No!” You reached out as Max began to turn around and walk away, grabbing onto his shoulder. “Max, I won’t forget about it, ever. I’ll help you with whatever you want, trust me.” You met his bright eyes with yours, and you could see a remaining shred of hope that had been untarnished by Max’s cynicism.

“Hey, thanks, Y/N.” Max’s hands returned deep into his pockets and he inclined his head slightly to indicate his thanks.

“We’ll make this your best summer ever, Max. The two of us together, okay?”

“Yeah. Uh, together.” His voice cracked on the last word, as if Max wasn’t used to saying it out loud. He coughed and stood slightly off to the side, awkwardly waiting for you to suggest the next step.

Little did you or Max know, David had been standing behind the closed door, for he cared too much about Max to let him wander off unsupervised. His smile had faltered when he realised Max would go to you for anything before even gracing David with ten seconds of eye contact - but in David’s mind, Max reaching out to anyone, at all, for help was better than nothing.

Hearing not only Max’s insecurity in himself but also his want for an outlet for his emotions, David could hardly stop himself bursting into the room to sweep Max off his feet and scooping him into a hug. But your way with words, the comfort you just seemed to radiate, he had managed to contain himself: simply satisfied with listening to your voice as you started to sing.

He let his eyes drift shut as the soothing tone of your voice filtered through the semi-shut door of the mess hall: his head dipped back and he sighed with happiness, picturing you singing next to a smiling Max.

David stood there until he could no longer hear your melodic voice, deciding that knocking and entering the mess hall would be the best plan of action.

“Why good morning, Y/N and Max!” David smiled as he made his way to the pair of you - one smiling and the other scowling.

“Morning David!” You replied with the same level of enthusiasm, beaming ear to ear as he walked up to you.

“Fuck off, David.” Max greeted David in his own way, the mood he was in whilst you were singing had completely dissipated.

“Oh, Max. Watch your language around such pretty - uh, preppy lady counsellors!” David’s ears began to turn a shade of light red as he blushed, the slip up caught by an ever watchful Max.

“Yeah, whatever David.” He rolled his eyes and began walking to the door of the mess hall. “See ya Y/N.”

“Bye Max! I promise this will be the best darn summer ever!” You waved with vigour at Max’s retreating form, turning back to a still-blushing David.

“I heard what Max asked, by the way.” David stage whispered out of the side of his mouth, swinging one leg over the bench you were sitting on.

“Shoot. And I promised Max you wouldn’t find out.” With furrowed brows you took your bottom lip in between your teeth, chewing on it. As soon as you had gained some semblance of trust from Max, it seemed as though you were going to lose it immediately.

“It’s not like… You told me, Y/N. If anything, it was my fault - Max’ll blame anything and everything on me anyways.” A comfortable weight rested on your shoulder as David placed a hand there, letting it linger for longer than considered normal between professional colleagues.

“Thank you, David. I hope that this might be my chance to actually get through to Max, you know? I just feel that he has this heart of gold beneath those hundreds of layers of sarcasm.” Resting your head in your hands you released the tension you had through a sigh.

“Y/N, you’re the best dang counsellor I know! I believe in you and all your many, varied talents - Max is lucky he’s got such a wonderful counsellor in you.” A small smile graced David’s face and you enveloped him in a tight hug.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You murmured into David’s shoulder, unable to see the expression of pure happiness that had found its way onto his face as the two of you sat there, intertwined.

Tutor (One-shot)

Pairing: Steve Roger x Reader
Summary: Steve has a lot to catch up on after 70 years of beauty sleep, and Y/N in all of her history-nerd glory is just the woman for the job.
Genre: Fluff
Warnings: None. Well, someone says ‘fuck’ I think, but this is the internet. I’m sure all of us have seen a lot worse.
Word count: 3,751


A/N: Oh hey, look, an actual Steve Rogers x Reader fic and not something that totally isn’t Steve Rogers x Reader but is still tagged as Steve Rogers x Reader because some people just wanna watch the world burn, I guess. No, I’m not bitter at all.

Originally posted by urmychilicheesecake

The door shut with a sharp bang as Maria Hill situated herself in the black SVU.

“Well,” she said to the man sitting next to her, “that was a spectacular failure.”

“On the contrary Agent Hill,” Fury replied, “the goal was to find out what kind of man the legendary ‘Captain America’ really is. Now, we’ve got an idea.”

Maria shot Fury a disbelieving look. They just messed with the mind of America’s most iconic war hero. A man out of World War II just ran head first into a modern-day Time Square after fighting to escape his “captors,” which turned out to be agents of an American intelligence agency. Fury’s little game may have very well fucked Captain Rogers even more than the situation itself would, and Fury considers it a victory because they got to see how he reacts under stress?

She may not have agreed with his tactics, but Fury was her boss and Maria was no idiot. She kept her comments to herself. Instead, she asked, “So what’s our next move?”

“Take him to the Retreat,” Fury stated simply. “The man’s just had the shock of his life, and New York City isn’t exactly a place that encourages relaxation.”

“He’ll need to get into society eventually,” Hill countered.

Eventually,” Fury stressed. “But right now, he needs time process everything that’s happened.”

“Are you going to bring him in on Phase Two?”

Fury considered her question carefully, replaying the argument he’s had with himself on a daily basis since the captain showed signs of life. Phase Two may be a necessity of modern warfare, but it was based on Hydra technology. He wasn’t sure the captain would be ready to accept something like that just yet.

“Eventually,” he answered. “Before that, though, he’s gotta catch up on 70 years of domestic shifts, foreign affairs, scientific progress, and social evolution.”

Maria sighed deeply. “That’s gonna take some time.”

Fury smirked in response. “Don’t worry Hill, I’ve got a plan.”

“Does this one involve a storage container and armed guards?”

“Nope,” Fury said with a proud smirk. “A tutor.”

Keep reading

captain-sofa  asked:

Hi there so I love your art to pieces and I read through your tags all the time also!! ;0; I think it's REALLY cute when you type out "he!!!!!!!!" and "them!!!!!!!!!!!!" and the like because it makes my day and it's so cute and I hope you never stop the overwhelming enthusiasm you have for things you enjoy. ;w; Thank you for existing and blessing the world with your beautiful talents!!!!!! You're so lovely and I hope you have an amazing day!!!!!!!

oh man this is so overwhelmingly positive im so happy but i have no coherent thoughts to communicate vbfnvgjm this is embarrassing

thank you for this

Have A Little Faith: Chapter One

“Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.”

- Rainer Maria Rilke

My feet were killing me.

I could practically hear my mother scolding me from miles away as I walked down the unfamiliar street, sharp pangs of pain shooting up the soles of my feet and my calves every time I stepped. My parents had both told me before I left on my trip that I shouldn’t pack sandals, and that if I’m going to be walking every single day I should be using runners. But I am my father’s daughter, which meant that I would end up packing three pair of sandals just to spite them—I wore them today to prove a point, which ended up backfiring gravely.

But the pain was worth it, because Barcelona was absolutely breathtaking.

“Are you doing okay, Rosie?”

I looked over at my friend Danielle, flashing her a small smile of reassurance. Dani was a petite blonde that I’d met that morning in a small Spanish café. She had long curls that had taken her about forty five minutes to get perfect that morning, only to go flat the second we stepped out into the humidity. Her lips were tainted with bright pink lipstick and she had freshly manicured nails.

The tour agency that I’d used to help plan my backpacking trip had stops in every city where you could meet up with people who were also travelling on their own, and today I’d had the pleasure of meeting her.

At first I was a tad overwhelmed by her enthusiasm, but she enjoyed talking and I enjoyed listening, so we ended up being a great pair. Her voice was loud and unapologetic, the way I wished mine could be sometimes.

I quickly learned that she was an over-sharer—within the first hour of our walk I knew everything about her family and way too much about her sexual history. Her cheeks were bright red due to the heat yet she refused to put her hair up, and her orange shorts clashed with the pink tank top she’d chosen for today, but overall I didn’t mind her company one bit.

“Yep, just tired,” I replied. “I think I’m going to sit for a little bit, you go ahead and I’ll catch up, okay?”

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anonymous asked:

hello again hp anon here! I don't know if I'm asking too much because this is harry potter related again (you can go ahead and ignore/delete this if it is). If not, I got another writing prompt for you guys if y'all are interested: hp!au yule ball headcanons with akaashi, kuroo, matsukawa, oikawa, and terushima. thank you~ :)

Why did I say two requests before I could order dinner? I want my Chinese, plus delivery takes an hour, which I was planning on writing in. Ugh.

Anyway, I think you can tell I’m in the hp mood right now. Hmmm…I’m not going to specify houses, since I don’t think it’s too important. Fun fact: this took me two pages in word to write. 

~~Admin Keiji



  • I think we can easily say Akaashi Keiji is the prettiest person ever
  • He asked you to the ball when you two are studying in the library. You were pouring over Arithmancy notes and he bluntly says, “Want to go to the Yule Ball with me?” You obviously said yes because, well, Akaashi Keiji.
  • He dresses in a simple dressing gowns, looking much like a tux. He’s turning heads as he walks by (both female and male), but when he meets up with you, he claims you are the best-looking thing he’s ever seen.
  • If it were up to him, he’d stay at the side the whole night not dancing, but he recognizes that you’d like to dance and compromises to make you happy—you’d avoid dancing in the center and stay to the outside edges.
  • He’s the kind of person who will gladly hold your heels for you while you run to the restroom so you don’t have to hobble there. Honestly, the most courteous boy in the entire room.
  • Kisses you during the last slow dance. However, he asks first so not to make you uncomfortable, which causes you to be uncomfortable.
  • Overall: 11/10 Would go to the ball again.


  • Asks you out by attaching a howler to his cat’s collar. You don’t notice the note—just the cat—until it goes off in breakfast “_____ YOU’LL GET A HOWLER EVERYDAY UNTIL YOU AGREE TO GO TO THE YULE BALL WITH KUROO!” He gets a detention and a date to the ball.
  • Despite his overwhelming enthusiasm about the ball, he doesn’t realize he actually needed dress robes (lord, help this boy) until the day before. He was just planning on wearing his school uniform but gets stuck with Bokuto’s extra robe that was too small. Yet, this robe was too big width-wise, but too small length-wise. He looked like a mess.
  • He tried for three hours to do something with his hair, and failed. When he tells you this with a sad look, you immediately take out the clips on one side of your head so you match.
  • At some point in his life, someone must have told Kuroo he could dance well. At that same moment in his life, he was lied to. Keep stepping on your feet and swinging you into people. But you have so much fun that you simply don’t care.
  • Tries to convince you to make-out behind a pillar. It doesn’t take much convincing and your lips are swollen by the end of the night.
  • Overall: 10/10 Would go to ball again, but avoid dancing, make out more.

Mastsukawa: (i can’t write this boi seriously. He’s just a meme to me)

  • “Oh shit, waddup, _____, it would meme the world to me, if you would come with dis boi to the Yule Ball.” How could you refuse that?
  • Wears a pink plaid dress robe with a striped undershirt and somehow, it’s the most attractive thing you’ve ever seen a person wear. His reasoning? Maybe he can become a school-wide meme if he wore it, as if he wasn’t one already.
  • Not only does he shove his face with food, but he doesn’t care that you also shove your face with food the whole night.
  • Dances like he’s in a mosh-pit during the slow songs; dances like it’s a slow song during more upbeat music. Miraculously, you are not embarrassed one bit when you join him. Maybe you can be a meme, too.
  • Asks you to be the window to his wall, to be the sweat that drips down his balls. (Asks you to be his s/o). After you’re finished laughing, you agree to be the “tionary” to his “dick”
  • Overall: 420/69 would meme with him again.


  • You kind of expect that the reason he asked you to the ball over anyone else because you never hung all over him like all the others. Yeah, he’s cute, but not that cute.
  • He wears one of the nicest dress robes you’ve ever seen, and you admit that he looks good. It’s actually worth all the death glares you’ve been receiving by hopeful girls wishing he’d had asked her.
  • He’s a very attentive date and you get to see his true self, which is really nice. He’s not as suave as he makes himself out to be, but really a dork who is always whining after his Iwa-chan. Something about seeing him in this light is refreshing and you want to get to know him more.
  • You actually tell him that, expecting him just to brush you off as another fangirl, but he blushes a bit and suggests maybe you go to Hogsmeade together on the next trip out there. You agree and he blushes even more.
  • A very nice dancer, indeed. Perfect mixture between rhythm and steps. Leads you well and never steps on your foot.
  • Overall: 10/10 Hogsmeade is too far away


  • When the resident bad-boy asked you to the ball, you said yes. You felt like he would show a good time, and if you got detention, then so what.
  • Doesn’t wear dress robes, tells you to get to fancy. He wears ripped jeans and a muscle shirt and you wear a short “club” dress. You’re only able to get in the ball because he bribed Nishinoya with chocolate to distract the professors.
  • Crowd surfs once when a punk song is playing. One of the professors notice and almost catches him before he slips further into the crowd with you, other students hiding you and pointing the prof in the wrong direction.
  • Shows you what it’s like to kiss someone with a tongue ring. It’s interesting, and you tell him you’re going to need to collect more data points to form an accurate conclusion. He happily obliges.
  • When you finally get caught and kicked out of the ball, and given a week’s worth of detention, you two scurry to the kitchen to get a late-night snack, then make your way to the observatory to talk about the meaning of life.
  • Overall: 10/10 You’d break all the school rules again. 

anonymous asked:

#91 #69 with Stiles:) thanks

Stiles Stilinski - “Tell me you need me”

Stiles stared at the letter in his hands. He had applied for the FBI college months ago and he had almost started to think that maybe he had not gotten in. But now he was holding the proof. He had gotten in. He would become an FBI agent. He would go and save the world. And he would have to move to the other side of the country.

“Stiles?” You looked up from your book and you curled your lips up into a smile. “Is everything alright?” You cocked your head a little and Stiles nodded.

“Yes, yes, I’m perfect, I’m great, it’s just…” He licked his lips and he placed the letter on his desk. “We need to talk.” He swallowed and you narrowed your eyes. “No, no, it’s nothing bad, on the contrary, it’s great news and I’m feeling great, but…” He paused for a moment. “Do you think we could make a long distance relationship work?”

“You got in?” You raised your voice and you jumped up from your seat to wrap your arms around his neck. Your lips kissed his and for a moment Stiles didn’t know what to do you with your overwhelming enthusiasm. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks…” Stiles hesitated a little and reluctantly he wrapped his arms around your waist. “But you do know that this means I have to move, right?” He whispered, his voice a little raw. This was what he had always wanted. This was what he had always dreamed of, but somehow he was afraid of what it would mean for you, for what he had with you, for the relationship he was so incredibly happy with.

“Yes, I do.” You nodded while you stepped back. “But I have known from the beginning that you would get in.” You shrugged your shoulders. “We’ll find a way to make it work, really. We can skype or we can text or we can send each other all kinds of messages using whatsapp. We’ll find a way.”

Stiles relaxed a little and he curled his lips up into a small smile. “So, you’re not happy because you’re finally free? Because this way you can easily get rid of me?” He winked and he reached for your hands holding them firmly in his.

“No! Why would you think something like that?”

“Well, Scott thinks Beacon Hills can live without us. I was afraid that maybe you could too.” He swallowed. He had actually been joking, but maybe the joke had been a little more serious than he had initially thought. “I just need you to tell me you need me. I just want to be needed. By someone, anyone.”

“Stiles…” You shook your head and your fingers rubbed his knuckles. “Of course I need you. I love you. I don’t want to lose you, but I don’t want you to give up your dream! You go to that college, I’ll stay here and we’ll make it work, I’m sure about that.”

Stiles wrapped his arms around you and pressed you as tightly to his chest as possible. “And that, that’s why I love you, why I want to marry you some day, why I won’t stop loving you for the rest of my freaking life.” He almost tripped over his own words and his lips kissed your cheek. “You’re the most amazing person in this whole wide world.”

Cursed Child: Final Chapter

Yoongi and You

Genre: Clairvoyant/supernatural being AU, angst, darkfic, a little fluff

Word count: 4,263 words

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 (Final)

A/N: My first completed series! I’d like to say thank you to @sunshinehobi7​ for making this mood board for me and for beta-ing the work for me since the beginning. Thanks to other friends who helped look through and give me comments on the story at some point or other. I hope readers would enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!


Your descent to the ground was slow because your arms started burning before you were even halfway towards your destination. Keeping your eyes on the wall facing you instead of down towards the ground, you willed yourself to hasten your pace. Bit by bit you brought yourself closer to your target, but when your feet touched the ground you were at a loss as to the next step you should take.

“Yoongi?” You called as loudly as you dared. “Yoongi!”

Instead of a reply, the answer you got was a hand grabbing your arm from behind, pulling you into the shade that the cluster of trees a few paces away provided. Your shock allowed her to drag you at her will. Once you were concealed in the shadows, the older woman turned you to face her, holding you at her arms’ length. Her eyes swiveled up and down, taking in your appearance before beaming and crushing you into her arms.

“My word! I didn’t think I would ever see you again, miss!” Her cry was heartfelt and you felt confused and a little overwhelmed by her enthusiasm. She seemed familiar, but like so many things in your past, you had buried it so deep that you couldn’t remember. It didn’t seem like she would reveal your escape though, so you forced yourself to relax.

Your lack of reaction to her affectionate hug made her ask, “Do you not remember who I am?”

“I’m sorry, but no,” you answered truthfully.

“I suppose it is to be expected, it has been ten years,” she muttered, more to herself than to you. “I was your nurse when you were a child.”

“Ah.” It was hazy, but you could imagine the younger version of her fussing over you when you were small.

“I’m so glad that you managed to escape,” she gushed, then looked at you with concern. “Do you know what you’re going to do now that you’ve gotten out?”

You shook your head, your throat dry. There was no place that you could call home. The mansion you grew up in had long ceased to be a home for you. You were hoping that Yoongi could help you figure it out, but he was nowhere to be seen and panic was rising up in your chest.

“That’s what I thought. Listen,” your former nurse grabbed your shoulders in a tight grip to make sure you heard every word. “Go through the small gate just over the patch of trees there,” she pointed and you followed the direction of her index finger, hanging on to her every word. “Walk north until you reach the forest, then keep walking. Don’t make any turns. Just go straight until you reach a shack. You can stay there for now, and I will look for you tomorrow. Do you understand me?”

You nodded eagerly, happy to be given a direction when you felt so helplessly lost.

She took another good look at you, as if trying to burn your image into her memory. “Go now. I have to go back inside before I am missed.” With a soft pat on your cheek and a watery smile, she scuttled back into the mansion, leaving you alone among the trees.

You spared a few seconds to watch her hurry away, then looked around again, this time with more urgency. You needed to leave, but you couldn’t leave Yoongi behind. Would he be able to find you if you left without him? Just as you were about to call for him again, you saw his slender figure emerge from behind a tree.

“Yoongi!” You breathed in relief and rushed forward to envelop him in a hug. He wrapped his arms around you, his whisper of, “You made it,” was full of joy.

He only allowed you a moment of respite before wrenching you away from him, although he took your hand. “We have to go.”

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hi guys heres my idea for a visual novel so someone on tumblr can steal it and put it on kickstarter as a scam. anyway its abt you (a lady) and your gf and a looming wedding in your distant family. all of your nosiest and most annoying relatives are going to be there and you must find a way to avoid the typical onslaught of questions about when youre finally going to settle down. so you and your gf devise a scheme (bc your gf has always wanted to be part of a “scheme”): to choose the perfect beard from your group of male friends to cast suspicion away from your lavish lesbian life.

(not that your family is homophobic, its actually the opposite: its your cousin cindy’s wedding to HER girlfriend and you saw your family’s raw, overabundant and overwhelming enthusiasm/desire to support cindy and smother her in rainbow merch and you know you must avoid their love at all costs)

so the game follows you putting your male friends through various gauntlets so they can prove they are the most worthy of being your pretend boyfriend and getting a free vacation out of town for a weekend

hyrosen-blog  asked:

Cheryl Davis's new musical, Bridges (about parallels between the marches in Selma and the protests against Prop. 8), has a segment where a girl is trying to find a high-school club, and is approached by a group of Magic players. Alas, she finds their enthusiasm too overwhelming. I helped Cheryl with her research - she's my wife's friend from college.

Thanks for helping get Magic more recognition. Much appreciated.

13 & 49. We’re In This Together/I Didn’t Ask For Your Help

d r a b b l e l i s t 

d r a b b l e  m a s t e r l i s t 

[ wonpil x reader ]

word count; 800

genre; fluff

“Hi Y/N!” an annoyingly familiar voice chirped, passing your desk at the front of the classroom. You looked up to see no other than Kim Wonpil.

You rolled your eyes at him, causing him to frown and walk to his desk that was behind yours. This is how your mornings started every single day. Wonpil would happily greet you a good morning and you would ignore him. You don’t even know why you acted this way to him but you both grew up together attending the same schools for years. Yourself and Wonpil were both the top students of the class, so maybe you saw him as competition and envied his academic successes - maybe.

All of the students in your class hastily made their way to their assigned seat once your Physics teacher arrived.

“Okay, for this term the majority of your end of term grade will be determined on a group project that I am assigning. And before you ask, I already have the pairs picked out so you cannot go with your friends, I don’t want to hear any complaint,” your teacher strictly and articulately explained, tone monotonous.

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