Jack knew something wasn’t right when he woke up. The covers were too hot on him and his head was pounding like he’d been drinking too much the night before. He shifted, trying to get his bearings, but at some point during the night, he must have pulled the covers over his head. He struggled free, enjoying the fresh air, before noticing a pair of paws on the bed. When he moved his arms, the paws moved too. What followed next was a confusing jumble of panic and incoherent screaming that came out as yowls.

He must have passed out again, because when he came to, he was still disoriented and nauseous. He confirmed that, no, it had not been a bad dream. Somehow, he’d grown four legs and a tail overnight.

After the initial panic, he jumped on his bedside table where his phone was, but he was uncoordinated, and ended up knocking the phone to the ground. He batted at it on the floor, but found that the battery had drained itself overnight when he’d forgotten to charge it.

Cursing and swearing to himself, he wandered his apartment on shaky legs. Thankfully, he hadn’t quite turned off the tap in the bathroom and the dripping of the faucet helped to parch his thirst as he tried to think of what try next. He needed to get help soon. Otherwise, he was going to end up starving to death in his own apartment.

In the living room, Jack found a window that he’d left open because it had been too hot last night. He squeezed out onto the fire escape and tried not to look down. It was strange in this body. Jack never had an issue with heights before, but now, a glance downward to the street had his head spinning with vertigo.

Left with no choice, Jack began to climb upward with the dim hope that someone had also left a window open.

He didn’t get too far before the enticing smell of spices and baked dough reminded him how hungry he was. He followed the smell until he staring into a kitchen where someone was bent over, pulling pies from an oven. Jack called out for the guy’s attention, and when he finally glanced in Jack’s direction, he scrambled to open the window.

“Hey, kitty. What are you doing so high up?” he asked. Jack stiffened when the guy picked him up, but he let himself get rescued from the precarious ledge. “Where did you come from?”

Help me! I’m not really a cat! Jack tried to say, but as expected, it came out in a series of pitched meows.

“Hmmm, okay. You hungry?” He set Jack on the floor to rummage around in his fridge. He set out a plate of leftover meatballs which Jack, losing his composure, attacked immediately.

“I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry, little–uh– guy?” He attempted to lift Jack’s tail to check, but Jack had hissed and swiped his claws. “Okay, never mind. We’re not going there,” he said backing off. Satisfied, Jack continued to eat, though with a suspicious eye on the guy who’d now dropped onto his stomach to watch Jack with a bright smile.

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Accidental Saving

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Spider-Man: Homecoming spoilers, fire, near death situations (??)

Summary: Part 2 of “Accidental Flirting”, uploaded by popular demand. 

Tags: @fluffyavengers, @onyxbunny22, @thebittygirl, @chillcastaway, @evstor01, @tgwltw, @macfullyloaded17

A/N: Wooo, here y’all go!! A huge thank you to the very sweet anon who helped me come up with this idea. You rock, anon. Love ya. Also, I’m pretty proud of this. :-) Enjoy!!

Part One

Needless to say, after that encounter, things weren’t the same between you and Peter. At school, during the classes you two shared, you began talking more and more. He also started visiting you at your locker in the mornings.

To everyone else, including both your friends and Peter’s, it was obvious that you had both had huge feelings for each other. It was kind of like a waiting game at that point, everyone anticipating when one of you would finally get the guts to make a move and ask the other out.

It had been a particularly slow night at the bodega. You worked the counter, though during the times when there weren’t any customers in the store, you occupied yourself by studying for Chemistry with your textbook behind the register. Flipping through the pages aimlessly, you could feel a headache coming on from all the reading you’d been doing.

It was getting pretty late, actually, but you had promised your father earlier that you would close up for him. He was busy doing inventory in the back, and he’d given you strict instructions not to bother him until he was finished. The hands on the clock on the wall across from you ticked by at what seemed like an agonizingly slow pace. You couldn’t wait to just go home and get into bed. It had been a long day at school and you were beyond exhausted.

Sighing, you returned to the thick textbook of formulas and information, of which half of it you barely could understand. You engrossed yourself in the reading yet again, holding your chin up with the palm of your hand.

You almost felt your eyes slowly droop closed before suddenly a loud searing noise could be heard from across the street. Eyes wide, you jumped up from the wooden stool.  

Maybe it was just your tired eyes playing tricks on you. It had to be, because, if not, then you were witnessing Spider-Man live in action fighting off a group of men wearing… Avengers masks? Spider-Man? What the hell?

Oh my god, oh my god, what the-?  You blinked a few times in pure shock. The blue-and-red clad superhero was suddenly trapped in the orbit of some huge gun emitting a weird purple ray. This couldn’t be real. Pacing behind the counter, your eyes never left the scene unfolding across the street. What were you supposed to do? Call the police? Run? Stay put?

You weren’t able to even think about any other possible decisions before the smell of smoke and burning metal hit. It was like your whole body shut down. The whole room around you was engulfed in flames. You couldn’t move. You tried. You couldn’t. It felt like your brain just stopped working, suddenly you were unable to send signals to your limbs to get the hell out of there.

“Dad!” You choked out, tears rolling down your cheeks. “Dad!”

A gust of wind came in through the now completely shattered glass wall to your left. Before you could speak, before you could cry, before your brain could fully process what was going on, you felt yourself being scooped up into someone’s arms. Opening your previously squeezed shut eyes, you gasped as you looked up and saw the familiar suit of none other than Spider-Man himself.

He looked down at you for a split second before tightly squeezing you in his arms. “I’ve got you, you’re okay.”

His voice sounded awfully familiar to you, but honestly, you were too bewildered to think about that. Spider-Man carried you out of the store, you instinctively clinging to his chest. By now the whole front was completely ablaze. The masked hero carefully put you down, though you still held onto him, utterly terrified.

“Stay here, (Y/N). I’ll be right back.” He blurted, in the heat of the moment not even realizing that he’d just called you by your first name. Your puffy eyes widened, confusion and shock still pulsing through you.

You stood upright, legs unable to move again because of how sudden everything had just happened. Watching in silence as the hero slung himself back into the smoky shop. He came back out in under a minute, your father’s cat in his arms and his right hand on your dad’s shoulder.

At the sight of your dad, his work clothes covered in ash, you felt the blood start coursing through your veins at a fast pace. You mustered up all of your energy and strength, running over to him and collapsing into his arms. He hugged you back tightly.

Silently sobbing into your father’s shoulder, you stood embracing him for what felt like hours before you heard someone clear their throat behind you.
Wait. Spider-Man knew your name. You instantaneously remembered the previous encounter between you, turning around abruptly and slowly willing your legs to move over towards him. As you got closer, you took in his oddly familiar stature and the way his tight suit fit over his arms.

No, it couldn’t be.

It wasn’t possible.

No way.

Your brain was probably just pulsating with dopamine.

“Spider-Man?” You breathed, now standing bordering on the too-close boundary in front of him. Your nails dug into the palms of your hands, nerves, awe, shock, and confusion wracking your mind all at once. He tilted his head to the side at your words. “How do you know my name?”

Sensing that he had tensed up at your blunt question, you stepped even closer to him, placing your hands on his toned upper arms. It felt like time had stopped in that moment. Suddenly you couldn’t smell the burning metal all around you, or remember that you’d just basically cheated your own death. All your attention was on the masked boy in front of you.

He just saved your life. Holding your breath, you waited for him to answer you.

He didn’t say anything, but instead, reached one hand to the back of his head and slowly pulled his mask off. Your eyes saw the curly tufts of brown hair first, and recognition immediately swept over you like a tidal wave.

The rest of his mask was now off, revealing Peter’s full face. Peter. Peter Parker. The boy who just weeks ago you’d made flustered out of his mind just by a simple sentence. The boy you’d been talking to non-stop at school ever since. The doe eyed, wavy haired boy who was slowly taking up all of your thoughts one by one.

Adrenaline pulsed through you at a thousand miles per hour, your hands still placed on his biceps. To say you were in complete disbelief was a huge understatement, but you were also immediately filled with an all too familiar feeling of adoration.

It was him. He was the one risking his life on the daily, just to help save innocent people from harm. And he had just saved you.

Placing your cold hands on either side of his neck, you let your astonishment take over as you brought your lips to his, kissing him urgently and standing on your tiptoes. Peter stumbled towards you in surprise, his hands flying down to encircle your waist and pull you closer. He kissed you back with just as much power as you kissed him. A million sparks flew and ignited between you.

Your eyes were squeezed tight, and through the kiss, you could feel salty tears start to trickle down your burning cheeks.

Time had truly stopped.

It was only when you finally pulled away, eyes wide as saucers and blushing like a bride when it felt like time resumed around you. You stared into Peter’s eyes, which looked just as shocked as yours. He moved one hand from your waist, carefully lifting it up to gently wipe the tears that continued to drip down your face. You felt your face surge with energy where his gloved hand lay.

Peter grinned widely at you, and you shook your head in a dazed smile back at him. Grabbing hold of his arms yet again, you tugged him into the most secure hug you’d ever given. You buried your face into his chest.

He looked down at you, opening his mouth to speak before he was cut off by a loud sigh coming from behind the two of you. “Oh dios mío.”

Nouveau Départ  | 01

Originally posted by theking-or-thekid

humor | angst | smut | fluff | smartalec!jungkook | spoiled!reader

word count: 3.9k                                                                                                              

Its January, the start of another shitty year at Mendia High and your vivacious parents are coming in 2 months for a report on how you’re doing in the aspects of grades, reputation and of course the long awaited–dating. This means 8.7 weeks to change your attitude–60 days to pull up your grades–1,440 hours to land a decent boyfriend. There is nobody decent enough to help you–therefore you have no choice but to turn to the schools’ derisive dweeb, Jeon Jungkook. Watch yourself struggle to cope with the smart-assed boy as he tries to transform you into a changed lady that everyone would look at differently.”                                                                     

“You feel so good princess–keep going.” your best friends’ groans of pleasure filled the room and you were damn sure any by-passer would look at you dead-dirty if you even dared to exit the small and clustered room at this time.  

“Oh shut up, you make it seem like i’m giving you a blowjob or some shit. Cut it out.” you grit out, making sure to press a bit harder than usual on the sensitive part of his neck. Feeling your nails press into his jugular–he pitches up in pain, a variety of obscene curses fly your way. “Do that one more time and I swear to God i’ll pull you over my lap and spank the shit out of you.”

Your pupils take a trip to the back of your head,  resurfacing rapidly, and you lightly hit the back of your best friend’s head. Yoongi was an uptight bitch sometimes. A downright petty one at that too. That’s why you found yourself giving him a back massage in the janitors closet, probably people coming up with many wild scenarios that their saint-like minds couldn’t handle when they try to put the puzzle pieces together. But hey, this was your best friend. 

Unfortunately, you lost a bet to the grudge-keeper two weeks ago. The deal was that if any of the new freshman could get laid at a party the week they came, Yoongi would get a back massage from you–along with the fact that you had to compliment him anytime he asked for the rest of the school year. If he lost, he would take you anywhere you want and let you buy, anything you wanted. Well, you guess you could say–Yoongi knew his shit.

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anonymous asked:

What about Damien comforting Lucien after a panic attack?

this is an old req thats been sitting in here for the right mood. sorry for the wait, bud.

[warnings for all your panic attacks, anxiety, and all that good good]

He didn’t want to let the tears fall for fear of the situation becoming real once they did. As long as they stay back, as long as he keeps himself together, he’s still fine. But Lucien knows himself better than anyone, and in the back of his mind, he knows from the first sign of tightness in his throat that he’s already in it.

Lucien’s leg jumps up and down to anchor himself back in the room, and he looks for something to do with his hands. God, as stupid as they are, he can’t help but feel slightly guilty for making fun of Ernest’s fucking fidget spinners now–all he has is his own rubber bracelets to twist and turn around his wrists for lack of anything else to do.

A knock on his door makes him jump, and the pent up energy running rampant in his body is quickly converted into anger to be unleashed. “What, dad?!” he shouts before Damien can even get a word in. There’s no way he knows how Lucien’s doing right now–why the hell is he bothering him? “If I wanted to talk to an old person about my fucking feelings I’d go back to therapy!”

“I…” his father’s voice is quiet on the other side of the door. “There’s no more room in the laundry room to hang up clothes, I’ll leave yours on the handle…?”


Lucien immediately feels guilty; he’s an asshole.

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Mad. (Im Jaebum Imagine)

Requested: Yes

Pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

Genre: Angsty-fluffy-smut ftw

Warning(s): No? Lol

Originally posted by justrightforjb

A/N:WhyamIlikethisWhyamIlikethisWhyamIlikethisWhyamIlikethisWhyamIlikethisWhyamIlikethisWhyamIlikethisWhyamIlikethisWhyamIlikethisWhyamIlikethisWhyamIlikethisWhyamIlikethis (Pt. 1)

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Creepypasta #1243: Auggie The Clock Watcher

Length: Super long

There was very little to enjoy about working in the fast food industry, but nothing quite so bad as the customers. They were demanding, impatient, and firmly believed they were right even when it was obvious to everyone else that they were not. The worst were the parents who left their kids in the restaurant and expected us to babysit while they went shopping in the plaza next door, even after they’d been asked and then told not to.

Many of us were fairly young ourselves with no idea how to handle a rambunctious, messy child, so if anything ever happened to them, we’d be totally lost. That ever present concern just made us dislike them even more.

The only exception was Auggie. Although he was pushing middle aged, a head injury when he was young had left him with cognitive issues so that he behaved like a child, albeit a very polite, well mannered one. His mom did her best to make sure he had a caretaker during the day, but when they were unavailable, she’d drop him off with us. She worked at an upscale department store across the way and would check in every half hour, but our answer was always the same.

“Auggie’s fine.”

Unlike the others left in our (mostly unwilling) care, he never made any fuss or raised his voice and he kept himself occupied with books and toys that he carried in his dinosaur backpack when we were busy. During our downtimes, which were frequent in the later hours, he’d show us what he’d brought in that day and ask us about ourselves, all the while smiling shyly and keeping his eyes diverted to the floor.

When he wasn’t playing quietly or reading, I noticed that Auggie liked to watch the clock. Whenever it got close to an hour mark, he’d stop what he was doing and run his index finger excitedly across his bottom lip, after which he’d go back to his previous activity with a pleased little bob of his head.

It was an unusual, but endearing habit and I found myself watching him every time he watched the clock. The happiness that it brought him was kind of infectious and it always helped brighten my mood, even if I didn’t understand why he did it.

When he came to the counter one quiet afternoon to order his usual hamburger and fries, I asked him about it.

“You really like that clock, huh, Auggie?” I asked as I slid his tray over to him.

“Yes, Miss Ivy.” He said quietly.

“Do you have one like it at home?”

He gave a small shake of his head. “We got the ones with numbers.”

I figured he meant digital. “You like them too?”

He looked up enough to catch a brief glimpse of my face and, when he saw that I was smiling, his excitement started to take hold. “Yeah, they’re easier to read, but this one’s good.”

“What do you like about them?”

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statuepuppie  asked:

O Captain, My Captain! (Janeway would approve!) Would you please feed my soul with some Kara and Maggie bonding? Thanks!

Alex hasn’t been dating her long.

And Kara is still adjusting, is still stiff about it.

Not around Alex – around Alex, she’s all heart eyes and thrilled that she’s with Maggie, that she’s happy.

Because she is happy that she’s happy.

But around Maggie?

Kara’s still stiff, still distant.

And Alex knows her sister. And Alex knows her girlfriend.

So one night, she does one of the things she does best: covert operations.

And they both show up at Alex’s door at the same moment.

Kara, through one of the hallway windows; Maggie, up the staircase.

Kara, bearing ice cream and potstickers; Maggie, with pizza and root beer.

“What are you – “

“Why are you – “

“She had a rough day – “

“She texted me – “

“I just thought she’d want some – “

“I wanted to bring her – “

“Sorry, you go ahead – “

“Sorry, I keep interrupting – “



“Hi Kara.”

“Hi Maggie.”

“So your sister had a rough day.”

“She did.”

Kara’s voice is just a little more tense than it usually is.

Just a little more prim than it usually is. A little more reserved, a little more… maybe… angry?

Maggie’s heart tears.

She doesn’t exactly have a good history with the families of girls she likes.

And Kara’s always nice to her, she’s always… cordial. But there’s a distance, a nervousness, maybe. A protectiveness. And Maggie gets it. She does. But it still scares her. It still hurts.

Both of their phones buzz at the same time. They have an identical novel of a text.

Kara, Maggie – my day was fine. I just didn’t know how else to get you two alone together. To bond. And I want you to bond. Because you’re the most important women in my life. Kara, I know you’re not used to sharing me, and Maggie, I know you feel like you don’t fit in with my family. So… surprise? I’m with James and Winn for the night – use my apartment, have at it. Kara, just don’t make her watch old musicals. She’ll probably like them, and then I’ll have to hear random bursts of corny old songs from both of you.

Kara finishes reading first, and she gulps a rough gulp and studies Maggie while she finishes reading. While she tries not to shake. Kara knows, because Kara can hear her heartbeat. She tries to pretend she can’t. She adjusts her glasses and waits. Watching.

Maggie gulps, too, and glances up nervously.

“So I guess she thinks we’re not sufficiently bonded, huh?”

“Well, you did break her heart. And she is my sister. I’m going to be protective.”

To Kara’s surprise, Maggie smiles.

“I like that you’re protective of her. She deserves that. Someone to fight for her like you do.”

Kara adjusts her glasses and stares.

“And you want to fight for her, too?”

“I never want to stop.”


“Are you finally giving me the shovel talk?”

“Why do you want to fight for her, Maggie? Because you didn’t, when she left that bar hysterically crying, trying to convince herself she wasn’t even a lesbian to make the pain go away. The rejection.”

Kara startles at the intensity of the hurt that flashes across Maggie’s face, and she regrets her uncharacteristically harsh words immediately.

Maggie swallows and nods for Kara to open Alex’s apartment door and follows her inside, putting the pizza and root beer on the counter and pacing immediately, left hand settled below her lips.

“You know Alex. She’s… she’s quick, and she’s brave, and she’s… she’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen, but not just on the outside. Your sister… she didn’t give up on me. Not when I was kidnapped, not when I was being stupid and thinking that she’d be better off… I didn’t want her coming out to be about me, Kara, I was… I know it’s screwed up, but I was trying to protect her. I was trying… I was trying to be good enough for her. And I know I never can be, but I want to try. Every day. I want to try to be good enough, because Alex deserves that. You… you know what I mean?”

Kara stares and Kara thinks and Kara thinks about that goofy grin Alex has developed in the last week or so, that distant look in her eyes that means she’s daydreaming about Maggie, about this girl who makes her smile, who makes her giggle, who makes her laugh like Kara’s never seen her laugh before.

“More than you know,” she answers softly, and then her face splits into a grin.

“I know you have a thing for vegan ice cream – and I agree with Alex, gross – but how do you feel about potstickers?”

“That all depends, Little Danvers – how do you feel about pizza and root beer?”

“Like you’d better be ready to give me most of it.”


When Alex gets home late that night, she doesn’t expect Maggie to still be there.

But she’s pleasantly surprised.

Because it might be midnight, but the two women that mean most to her – that she… loves… – are still awake, still there, surrounded by empty root beer bottles and pizza and potsticker boxes and pints of ice cream.

And her apartment is full of 90s boy band music and raucous laughter and deliberately off-key singing.

She’s not sure what she’s started by giving her sister and her girlfriend a compulsory bonding night, but she’s sure of one thing: she loves it, she loves it, she loves it.


A pace counter is a simple abacus used to count paces, ie, every time your left foot hits the ground. You get a good measurement of what your pace is, and you can use it to measure off how far you’ve walked. They’re particularly useful if you’re walking around at night. When you get to the amount of paces that equals 100 meters, you slide down one of the top beads. When you’ve reached 1 kilometer, you slide down one of the lower beads. When all four lower beads have been slid down, and you’ve slid down the last of the upper beads, that means you’ve reached 5 kilometers.

I decided to make one out of some Tibetan skull beads I have. I have two different kinds. I “believe” one is carved from human bone and one is from buffalo horn.

I had to ream them out in order for the cord to go through. Unfortunately, one or two of them were reamed a little too much and they tend to slide a bit more than I’d like. I was tempted to take them off and replace them, but getting them strung on the cord was such a monumental pain, I opted to just leave it as is. I made it more for fun than anything else. I have other pace counters that I would use in real life anyway.

Baby (Part I)

Hello lovelies! I got carried away with Jo and Shawn and after talking to @lilli-jo about this I continued writing. Hope you like it! Leave feedback! xx

Jo’s hands trembled slightly as she was standing on a balcony, overlooking L.A., shivering in her Marchesa gown.

Being Shawn Mendes’ officially acclaimed girlfriend had changed her world in an instant and she had been confronted with hate, more hate, crazy stalker fans and… hate.

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baker151910  asked:

"Stay the hell away from Ginny..." Mike said to Rachel.

He storms past where she’s standing in his house, pacing by the counter, bringing his fingers to his eyes, attempting to dig the image of Ginny’s disappointed face out of his mind.  The slight pout of lips, her brown eyes brimming with tears, but her shoulders pulled back, her head held high, as she attempted to act unaffected.

A simple, “I hope you and Rachel are happy,” were the only words she spoke to him the entire day, instead responding with shakes and nods, as if they were playing an endless game.

Rachel’s once smug look fades to irritation, as she crosses her arms.  Her mood prickling at the sound of Ginny’s name.

He turns on her, his forehead wrinkling with rage, pointing his phone at her like an accusatory finger.

“What did you say to her?” He seethes.

“I didn’t tell her anything that wasn’t true,” she spits with a raise of her eyebrow.

He steps closer, the heat of his rage coming off of him in waves, as he punctuates his words.  “What did you say to her?”

Rachel didn’t back down, instead baiting him.  “Why do you care, Mike?  Hmm?”

He straightens up at his question, the one he’d been asking himself a lot lately. 

“Because I have to work with her, Rachel.  If we’re not communicating then we’re not winning,” he explains to her as if she’s a child who doesn’t understand a lick about the relationship between pitcher and catcher.

Rachel gives a sideways grin, bringing her head down with a sad shake.  “Oh yeah?  And you call up all your other pitchers late at night too?  Bring them food, go to all their doctor’s appointments?”

 “Rachel,” he warns, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“I just told her that we were happy, we were trying to make it work, and it would help if she wasn’t around so much,” she admits.

“You what?” His eyes growing wide, and the sudden avoidance of Ginny all day making sense.  His suggestion of tacos afterwards earning him a shake of the head, as she quickly slid by him, his skin tingling where she’s brushed against him.  “Damn it, Rachel.”

“It’s true, Mike.  How are we supposed to try when you’re trying more with her?”

He wants to refute it.  He wants to tell her that she’s crazy.  That this isn’t his fault.  That he feels nothing for Ginny.  But that’s a lie.  He’s known it since the moment he showed up at her hotel room.  His body may have been with Rachel, but his mind, his heart had been several floors up with Ginny.

“We’re done.”  Realization washing over him, a sardonic laugh paired with his admittance. Rachel looks at him oddly, before he grabs his keys and turns to head out again.

“Where are you going?” She yells.

He reaches for the handle of the door, taking a deep breath, bringing with it a knowing smile.

“Where I should’ve gone months ago.”

Leave the first sentence of a fic in my ask box and I will write the next five sentences.

Rafael Barba / So Much More

Part One

Imagine opening your law school letters with Rafael 

This one has been a long time coming, and I hope you all enjoy! 

Tags: @xemopeachx: You encouraged me to write the second part, and there is actually going to be a third part!!

Originally posted by minidodds

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You’ve been dating your partner for six months. Tonight they’ve invited you to a work event, and as you step onto the red carpet, you realize it for the first time: you’re dating a celebrity. (x)

Even Oliver had to admit that, to his credit, Connor hadn’t exactly lied.

He turned the invitation over in his hands and frantically tried to think of something–anything– to say. His mind was going a mile a minute but his mouth couldn’t form words. 

“I know.” Connor put a hand on Oliver’s shoulder and leaned in. “I know it’s a big step. And a lot to ask but…I just thought that…” I just thought that wouldn’t be a that big of a deal. Why was Oliver so quiet? It was just the VMAs. 

Over the past few days, Connor had envisioned dozens of ways how Oliver would react to the invitation. In some he was ecstatic, screaming at the top of his lungs. In others he was so touched and overwhelmed he cried a bit. But in none of scenarios that had played out in Connor’s mind had Oliver acted as cold and quiet as he was now. 

He wished Oliver would just look at him. His boyfriend hadn’t taken his eyes off the gold embossed invitation since Connor had handed it over a few minutes ago. He’d known it was a big deal but he hadn’t thought it would be this much of a big deal. I mean, Oliver had to have known that at some point there would be something like this Connor would ask him to attend. 

“Listen, Ollie, you don’t have to–”

“You told me your name was Connor.”

Connor blinked. Twice. “What?”

Oliver slapped the invitation down, face up, and pushed away from the counter to pace the living room. Connor glanced down at the invite and frowned. It was addressed to Patrick Walsh but of course it was. Why would Oliver be upset about that? 

“My name is Connor,” he said, feeling dumb but not really understanding why. “Patrick is just a stage name.” Didn’t Oliver already know that? It seemed like everyone knew that. What the hell was happening?

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Auggie the Clock Watcher

There was very little to enjoy about working in the fast food industry, but nothing quite so bad as the customers. They were demanding, impatient, and firmly believed they were right even when it was obvious to everyone else that they were not. The worst were the parents who left their kids in the restaurant and expected us to babysit while they went shopping in the plaza next door, even after they’d been asked and then told not to.

Many of us were fairly young ourselves with no idea how to handle a rambunctious, messy child, so if anything ever happened to them, we’d be totally lost. That ever present concern just made us dislike them even more.

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anonymous asked:

In NotByChoice, are we ever going to see more of Palpatine's interest having a fallen Obi-Wan? Is he laying the ground work for "Darth Ravage" already?

“Obi-Wan I know that he’s not your favorite person but you can’t just cancel the invites!” Mace ran his hand over his scalp, staring at the other man.

“He’s a fucking war mongering Sith asshole and I don’t have to do anything he want me to do.” Obi-Wan countered, pacing back and forth.

“Its dinner Obi-Wan.”

“He wants to turn me to his side!” He snapped. “And I don’t know what he can do to me in this state. If he can infect my mind somehow!”

Warm hands cupped his shoulders and gave the Fallen Jedi a slight shake. “Obi-Wan, we won’t let him.” Mace offered firmly.

“He wants Anakin and now he wants me too, because I’m already Fallen. I have no idea what his plans for us are but he wants me on his si-”

Warm lips invaded his space and Obi-Wan had a second to think about struggling before he melted, wrapping his arms around Mace shoulders and clinging to the other man as tightly as he could, making a low mewling noise in the back of his throat.

The kiss might have gone somewhere if there hadn’t been a pointed cough behind them.

“Um, I’m sorry but we’re still here you know.”

Obi-Wan grumbled and pulled away from the kiss, looking at Anakin and Ahsoka with a sulky look on his face. “Yes, yes you two are.” He grumbled before melting when Mace wrapped his arms around him and tugged him into a hug instead.

“I still can’t get over that.” Anakin shook his head but he was smiling a bit.

“You know Master Obi-Wan, another Jedi could come with to this dinner thing the Chancellor wants.” Ahsoka pointed out.

“I’d rather not be around him at all.” Obi-Wan grumbled out, making a low noise when Mace placed a careful hand on his throat, soft Force healing working at the stiff scar. “I don’t want him to know we know. The Senators I gave evidence to are still working on calling in a vote of no confidence and once his reputation has been dismantled he can be put on court.”

An awkward kind of silence filled the room.

“…I’m sorry Anakin.”

“Don’t.” The blond sighed, dropping his face in his hands. “Don’t. I shouldn’t…I thought he was my friend. And then this comes out and…I don’t know what to feel.”

“You could hate him.” Obi-Wan suggested and Mace gave a low growl. “What he could. As long as he doesn’t follow the path of acting on it. Anger is exhausting, but it can be cleansing. He could also cry, tears are a good way to clear up things.”

“Obi-Wan.” Mace sighed and turned the other against his chest, stroking his spine slowly.

“Oh come on. Meditation doesn’t work like that for Anakin, meditation is stressing for him unless its shared and I can’t do that right now. He hears to much, feels to much, sees to much.” Obi-Wan grumbled.

Mace raised a brow at that and looked at Anakin who was staring at the window, a bit embarrassed. “Indeed?”

“…Obi-Wan says my strength makes it hard for me to still my mind and let go of my emotions into the Force. He usually helped me when we meditated even as a senior padawan.” He confessed. “On my own I generally spar or work with mechanic parts, its easier, makes my mind go quiet.”

“I see.” Mace pondered on that before carefully separating himself from Obi-Wan and offering his hands to Anakin instead. “Perhaps you’ll accept my help to meditate then?”

The two stared at each other before blue eyes fell on the dark hands offered to him.

An olive branch.

An offer to understand.

An offer to work together.

Anakin took the hands slowly. “Sure. Mind if we use your meditation mat Obi-Wan?”

“Go ahead, I’ll make tea.” Obi-Wan waved them off and made his way to the kitchen, putting on the kettle as Mace and Anakin made their way to the meditation mat and settled down together.

‘Two more months…’ He took a deep breath, his fury evaporating into tired grief before he quirked a small smile as he watched Anakin and Mace. ‘At least something good may have come from this.’ He caught Ahsoka’s eyes and the two smiled at each other before the Togruta got up and moved to Obi-Wan’s side, wrapping him in a half hug.

‘Something good…’


synopsis: the reader works at a flower shop and seokmin brightens up the place every time he comes through the door o(≧∇≦o)

genre: fluff

word count: 1,130 ヽ(>∇<)ノ

Blinding sunlight lit up the bright tile floors and assorted displays of the flower shop that afternoon. It was May, and before the overwhelming heat of a Seoul summer began, there were lovely days where you could simply watch people stroll by on their ways to work, school, or dates at the coffee stop next door. You could stare out of the panes for hours from your comfy area behind the service counter, but customers were always bustling and you hardly had the chance.

Anxious teenagers were your main customer base, as many were stopping by in a panic just before a date. They would shove a crumpled bill into your hands and you couldn’t help but giggle as you put a bouquet together. With pink cheeks and clammy hands, they would thank you and jog out the door, the pleasant sound of the overhead bell chiming behind them. Another group were the elderly who were still interested in filling their homes with fresh plants, or people visiting the nearby hospital. Being a florist truly allowed you to see your customers’s best and worst times.

That being said, it did get mildly lonely. It was usually you and one other employee during any shift, and you tended to work long hours. Though you had a few regulars, your daily encounters included mounds of shallow conversation and short interactions.

Another customer had just left with a wave and a smile when you saw him stroll past, probably headed toward the cafe for some afternoon coffee. One of your window arrangements caught his eye, however, and he stopped dead in his tracks to admire it. You could see his delighted chocolate-colored eyes from your spot behind the register and you subconsciously began walking towards the front. He slid his phone out of his pocket and took a picture, obviously pleased with his photography skills. Suddenly, he swung around and came through the door.

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anonymous asked:

64, 62, 71 with josh??

64. “talk to me ”
62. “it’s okay to cry”
71. “you are the single best thing that has ever happened to me”

You place the pregnancy test on the counter and pace your bathroom, waiting for the results. You feel confident this time, you had been following all the tips all the fertility books had suggested, you weren’t drinking, you were eating healthy. There wasn’t really any reason that too shouldn’t be pregnant, but yet you’re anxious for the results.

You and Josh had been trying to get pregnant for just over a year now, each time coming up negative. It was starting to take a toll on you emotionally, and you were starting to feel like there was something wrong with you. Each time Josh would tell you that he’s in no rush, and he’s happy taking time. But you were ready, and you wanted this with Josh.

When you feel like the proper amount of time has past, you pick up the test, keeping your eyes on anything put the results until it’s right in front of you. The blue negative sign is as clear as it can possibly be, and you snap. You throw the test across the bathroom, hearing it hit the wall with a sharp slap before turning and punching the wall closest to you. Your fist connects with the drywall as it crumples around your hand. You can feel the damage it’s doing, but you can’t stop, punching the same place over and over until you can’t feel your hand. That’s when the tears come, overwhelming you into a puddle of grief as you cry loudly in your bathroom. Thankfully Josh was out with Tyler, you hated when he saw you like this. You’d rather deal with this kind of heart break on your own.

As soon as you calm down, you can feel the pain in your hand. It’s more than just the stinging, and the entire thing is purple. You sigh; leave it to you to break your hand while punching a wall. You calmly get up, and clean up the mess you made before changing, grabbing your purse and heading to emergency.

It doesn’t take you long to get checked in and looked at, and while the nurses and doctors prep your arm to put a cast on, you finally decide to call Joshua.

“Hey baby,” he answers on the second ring. “Tyler and I are almost finished up,” he continues. “Then I’ll head home. Need me to grab anything?” Sometimes it really shocked you, how thoughtful Josh was as a person, and it always reminded how lucky you were to have found him.

“No, erm, I’m actually at the hospital right now,” You’re trying to keep your tone light, hoping he doesn’t freak out.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, concern washing over him.

“Yes, I just - uh - I just broke my hand. So I’m just here getting it checked out,” You squeeze your eyes shut, to prepare yourself for his response.

“What?! Y/N, what happened?!” You can hear Tyler asking him what was going on, and Josh relaying everything you just told him. “We’re coming to you,” He then says. “What did you do?”

“Can I tell you when you get here?” You ask, voice thick from the tears you were trying to hold back.

“Of course, I’ll be there soon. I love you.”

“I love you too.” The call ends, and you hang you head in defeat. Not only were you not pregnant, you now get to sport a very gaudy looking cast and had to explain to everyone what happened.

“Mrs. Dun?” A nurse calls your attention. “We’re ready to fit you for the cast.” You nod, following her into the casting room. The doctor is talking to you, but you’re barely listening. Lost in your own thoughts, and only coming back to reality when Josh enters the room.

“Sir -” The doctor begins to protest but you quickly cut him off.

“He’s my husband,” You tell him, and the doctor nods before going back to work on your hand.

“Hey baby,” Josh greets you, walking over and giving you a quick kiss. You can tell he’s stressed and you feel guilty. “What happened?”

You glance quickly at the doctor, who’s full attention is on your hand, then back at your husband who is patiently waiting for your reply.

“Um,” You’re trying to figure out where to start, if you should leave out the negative pregnancy test or not.

“Baby, talk to me, please?” Josh kneels beside you so you’re eye level now. His eyes are pleading, wanting to know what hurt you so badly.

“Josh…” You almost sob, and the tears start filling in your eyes, spilling over. You’re heart broken, and you don’t want to tell him that you’re not pregnant. But he’s your husband, and you know it’s going to come out sooner or later.

“I’m all done here,” The doctor announces. “I’ll give you guys some privacy.” And as soon as the door closes, you begin really crying.

“Y/N, honey,” Josh pulls you to his chest. “Please, what’s going on. I’m so worried.”

“I just, I don’t want to cry,” You reply with a shaky voice, pressing your face deeper into Josh’s chest.

“It’s okay to cry,” Josh tells you, pulling away so he can see your face. He cups it in his hands, and wipes away a few tears. “I’m here for you, just tell me.”

“I took a pregnancy test today,” You begin, avoiding his eyes. “I had some symptoms and I thought maybe this time, maybe I could give you some good news. But it came up negative,” Your bottom lip is shaking. “It came up negative again and I’m just so sad.” Your voice breaks on the last word.

You can see the tears glistening in Josh’s eyes, and it only makes you cry harder as he pulls you to him again. And this time he just lets you cry, placing kisses on your head to let you know that he’s there for you.

“Let’s go home, love,” He says after a few minutes of crying. And you nod in agreement. He leads you outside where Tyler is waiting to give you a supportive hug. Josh says goodbye, with the promise to call him later, before guiding you to the car and helping you in. His hand is firmly wrapped around yours the whole way home. Once inside, you curl yourself in bed next to your husband, and watch Netflix.

“Hey,” Josh turns to you. “I just want you to know I’m not upset.” You look at him, confused expression as you wait for him to continue. “I’m not upset that you’re not pregnant. I love you so much, Y/N. You are the single best thing that has ever happened to me, and that will never change. Baby or not. I just want you to be okay.” His eyes glance down to your hand.

“I love you too, baby.” You lean forward and press your lips to his. “I’m the luckiest girl in the world, to have a man who loves me so.” And, even though you were disappointed, you knew that when you and Josh finally have a child, it was going to have the most loving father in the world.

Nothing can come between us

Blindspot fanfic. This started out as a short drabble but got a bit out of hand. I really miss Sarah and Sawyer and hope they come back next season.

Sarah Weller loved her brother, but if she was being totally honest, she’d have to admit that she was dreading this visit.

She kept one eye on her son’s back as they made their way out of the baggage claim area at La Guardia Airport and scanned the faces in the waiting crowd with the other.

She knew Kurt was eager for her to spend time with his new girlfriend, Jane, but as eager as Sarah was to see him, she didn’t share his enthusiasm. The last time she’d seen Jane, the woman had been pretending to be Taylor Shaw, a childhood friend magically returned after being missing for twenty-five years. Only the whole thing had been a lie just to worm her way into Kurt’s affections and the FBI. And when the lie had been revealed, Kurt had been destroyed. And even though he may have forgiven and forgotten, Sarah hadn’t. She’d never seen her brother so devastated, especially following on the heels of their father’s death and his deathbed revelation that he’d killed Taylor.

Kurt wasn’t entirely wrong, though: Sarah was going to spend some time with Jane this week. She was going to find a few moments—away from her brother—to let Jane know that if she ever even thought about hurting Kurt again, Sarah was going to make her pay, no matter how many fancy martial arts the tattooed woman knew.

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Surprise Visit

Request:  Hiya! Can you do a Tyler imagine where the reader is a baker and she has a order to fill. So she bakes a cake for a client and Tyler wants to help her. So things get messy in the kitchen like they goof around , play music , throw flour at each other and Tyler showers the reader with kisses and grabs her by the waist. They decorate the cake and the reader puts icing on Tyler’s nose and licks it off. Just cute fluffy stuff. Thanks and stay alive. Love your imagines. ❤️

Tyler Joseph x Reader

word count: 743

Warnings: none

               You nervously paced behind your bakery’s counter; today a client was coming over to order a big custom cake. The bells on the door chimed, announcing that someone entered the bakery.

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avaeda  asked:

I gotta ask, what would the Classic, Underfell, and Underswap skels do in a situation where there's an asshole in line at a food place and they're being a dick to the worker/waitress?? Like, this is a thing I need. For scientific purposes. Please and thank you!!!

UT Sans: He watches that guy with unreadable expression. Hes rigth behind that asshole and he keeps screaming at the poor women behind the counter about getting to much ice in his drink. Sans just pulls at the guys shirt, “hey chill out buddy.” The guy just snarles at him to stay out of it, and continues screaming, before walking away and outside and to his car. Ohh….why is his drink suddenly levitating….and pouring onto his head, the ice falling out of the cup last. Welp, the guy complained about to much ice, didn’t he. Sans will order his food like nothing happened, leaving a nice tip to cheer up the worker. He doesn’t really get involved into this kind of things, but he does love messing with assholes.

UT Papyrus:  Precious skele bean will but a hand on the screaming mans shoulder before him. The man will turn around, angrily but kind of freez, not expecting a tall skeleton smiling down at him. Well sligthly angry smiling. Papyrus tells him to “PLEASE STOP SCREAMING AT THE NICE LADY WORKING HERE. IF THERE IS A PROBLEM HE WOULD GLADLY HELP RESOLVE IT.” The guy just shakes him off and walks out of there. Hes not dealing with tall, intimidating skeletons. The women behind the counter nods at Papyrus thankfully.

UF Sans: The guy infront of him really takes long, letting off snarky comments at all three people behind the counter. Man he was really getting on Sans nerves. Good time to annoy him back. The guy was pacing infront of the counter, so Sans just conjured a small bone on the floor, making the guy tripp over it. He trips and falls, smacking his face onto the floor. He got up enraged and humiliated and left, forgetting the food he already paid for. Welp, Sans loves getting free food, so he will take that, thanks.

UF Papyrus: Some people really don’t have any manners, the person infront of him in line defenitly is one of them. Papyrus sighes and grabs their shoulder, making them turn around. “What do you…!?”, they freez, looking up at the tall skeletong infront of them. “HUMAN, WOULD YOU MIND STOPPING THE TANTRUM YOU ARE THROWING HERE, THIS IS REALLY GETTING ON MY NERVES!” He really got better at the whole beeing friendly and not-intimidating thing, Papyrus thinks. I have to run of or I will die, the person thinks. They run away screaming. Papyrus sighs. Well at least he is next in line now.

US Sans: The moment the guy infront of him starts screaming at the cashier, Sans steps in. “HUMAN, STOP THIS!”, Sans is pretty cute and not very intimidating, so the guy just ignores him, shaking him off when he tries to turn him around. Well…that wouldn’t do. Sans walks over to the Softdrink dispenser and fills a cup, walking back to the guy an pouring it over him. The guy screams, and Sans just smirks “OH SORRY, DID YOU WANT ICE IN YOUR DRINK?” The guy leaves wet and angry.

US Papyrus: Ah jeez, he just wanted a snack an now there some asshole screaming at everybody behind the counter and even at some of the other costumers who aren’t even involved into whatever caused his rage fit. Papyrus sighs, teleports next to the guy, grabs his shoulder, teleports outside onto the parking lot with him and back inside by himself. He can hear his scream till here. He turns around and waves at him trough the big window, ordering his food.