please read he needs our help

Things You Can Expect If A Witch Likes You

*PLEASE ADD MORE*

1. Getting a text message that reads something like, “You better watch your back! Your life is about to change dude!” after we draw the Death card from our tarot decks.
2. Getting a text message saying, “WHO IS SHE/HE/THEM?!” after we draw The Lovers card from our tarot decks.
3. “You need to cleanse your house. The energy is awful.”
4. “Did you know you have a dragon living in your closet hoarding your clothes?”
5. After getting a gift, we say something like “it’s charmed to help protect you. Don’t worry. I got your back.”
6. “Oh. Drink this herbal tea! It’ll do wonders on your energy AND body!”
7. “Hold this crystal. Good. Don’t let go of it. Why? Because I said so.”

IMPORTANT -PLEASE READ-

So me and @blastiax have been dating for three years now, our relationship is extremely important to us, and we’ve both been having a rough time lately. (he has broken his foot, and is currently unable to do much of anything lately, as an example)

But, we are planning to help with a trip for me to the states to go visit him. We need roughly 1200$ as quickly as possible, so we are opening emergency commissions.

You can find find my commission information for various things i do below:

@blastiax will also be posting his commission information some time this week.

Please message us if you are interested in helping out, every little bit counts, and even small donations if you want to give them will be met with a doodle from either one of us to show our appreciation.

Thank you!

les amis as people ive served at work

inspired by @grantairelibere !!
joly: used their inhaler during the transaction but refused any help, informed me they dont need a bag because they dont use plastic
combeferre: spent half an hour discussing dozens of classic novels with me, seemed entirely unaware of his own astronomic attractiveness. shook my hand before leaving. instead of exchanging numbers, we gave each other reading lists. (please come back)
jehan: asked to see our books on greek mythology. wanted to see the ‘gory stuff for my song lyrics’
courfeyrac: came in with his friend after spending the day shopping, told me they’d intended to see the hadron collider but kept getting distracted. told me jokes while i restocked the shelves, because they didnt actually want to buy anything, they were just waiting for their friend who had accidentally (????) gotten on a bus after lunch
bousset: the friend that accidentally got on the bus
bahorel: the 6′2 individual who scowled at me until i asked if he needed help- he asked me to help find bob the cat’s biography and thanked me very enthusiastically when i did
enjolras: didnt say a word to me as he purchased the communist manifesto. just steady eye contact, and didnt even respond when asked if he was a loyalty card holder or if he wanted a bag. im not sure what he was trying to communicate but it was effective
grantaire: stayed in our tiny arts section for two hours, sitting cross legged on the floor, reading as much as he could
marius: came in with his (apparently long suffering) girlfriend and asked me to find a 10+ year old book about a child in ancient egypt without parents, that he couldnt even remember the name of. apologised for being difficult often, and ended up buying the percy jackson books
feuilly: asked me for help so their anxious friend wouldnt have to 

BONUS
montparnasse: came in in a perfectly tailored blacker-than-black suit, hair dyed half blond half brown and in a pony tail and bought his partner a biography about an obscure foreign model
valjean: managed to look fond and loving even while dragging his (previously lost) daughter away from the YA section


when you call, I forgive and I fight 

When her phone rings at 4 am, Rosaline knows exactly who it is.

What she doesn’t know is why she picks up anyway.

“I’m not helping you deal with our drunk cousins, Montague. I told you it’s your turn this weekend.”

She’s about to hang up again when he says:

“I got arrested. There’s a guy in the hospital and the police are saying I put him there.”

She freezes with her finger already hovering over the “end call”-icon, completely stunned.

Out of her phone, tinny and far away, she hears Benvolio’s voice.

“Capulet? Please don’t hang up. I need you.”

[read it on ao3]

(and shoutout to @julibernardo for making me this super cute picset! and also for putting up with my whining because this fic just would not end.)

10 Things Girls Who Have Lost Their Dads Want You To Know

To our friends, these are the things we want you to know.

1. We’re sorry.

We are sorry for being quiet every time you talk about your dad to us. We don’t mean to sound uninterested or make you feel that your happiness is unimportant to us. It’s just that when you talk about moments with your dad, it takes us back to moments with ours. Moments we wish we could relive and share with you, too. We don’t get quiet on purpose; it kind of just happens. It’s our mind’s way of protecting us from bursting out in tears.

2. Ask about our dad.

We want to share him with the world and when you ask about him, it fills our heart with so much joy to know that someone is actually interested in knowing him like we did. You’ll just have to excuse us as we talk through the tears.

3. Please don’t try to understand our heartache.

We appreciate the effort, we really do. But the truth is, unless you’ve lost a parent, you truly can’t understand.

4. Listen.

That’s the best thing you can do for us. When we have a bad day and need to talk to someone, be that someone. You don’t even have to say much, just reassure us every once in a while that you are still hearing us.

5. Please, please, please don’t take your dad for granted.

We love you and we don’t want you to feel our pain someday. Please don’t just assume he will be there for you to call tomorrow. Call him today. Right now. Don’t wait until it’s too late and then spend their rest of your life hating yourself for it.

6. Make memories.

Don’t have time? Bullshit. Make time. You always have time for the ones you love. It’s there; it just has to be utilized.

7. ALWAYS tell him you love him.

I don’t care if you two just got in a screaming fight and you feel in that moment you hate him. You don’t. I promise in a few hours you’ll realize how ridiculous it was to even think of the H word. Before you walk out that door or hang up that phone, say it.

8. Forgive us. We are broken.

Sometimes that shows a little more than usual. When our dad’s left this earth, they took pieces of our heart and soul with them. On occasion those pieces feel as though they are slowly being glued back together. But then there are the times when they feel like they are being ripped apart in shreds. This may bring out a side of us we aren’t used to. If there are times when we may not seem like our normal selves, please understand we are grieving immensely. Losing someone of such importance changes a person. We are being molded into a new place in our lives. It’s a slow process and a fragile one. Please, forgive us.

 9. We are here for you, too.

When that unfortunate day comes about when you lose one of your parents, we are here. Day or night. Rain or shine. Just call us and we’ll be there. We know all too well the pain you are enduring and we will do everything in our power to comfort you.

10. We are jealous of you.

I’m willing to admit it, and I’m sure others are, too. We are so jealous that you still have your dad in your life that we have to put the brakes on the eye rolls that are ferociously trying to take over. We don’t mean to feel this way. It seems so selfish, and in a way, it is. You have to understand, we are experiencing feelings we’ve never felt before and trying to find ways to cope.

Deep down, we are happy for you. It’s just every time we read a text or a Facebook post about how your dad made you laugh, or how he is going to walk you down the aisle at your wedding, it’s like another slap in our face. Now please understand, we don’t want you to stop sharing these beautiful moments just to appease us. In fact, we need the opposite. By you sharing moments with your dad, you are helping us come to terms with the loss of ours.

We will eventually get used to it and the feelings won’t be so evil. We will finally realize that just because we lost our dad and we are filled with sadness, doesn’t mean everyone else should be, too. The jealousy will always be there. But instead of the eye rolls, there will be a smile. A smile meant for you from our hearts. A smile that says we are thankful you aren’t experiencing our pain and you still get to make memories with the first man to have your heart.

BIOSHOCK OST Sentence Meme

Songs from the BIOSHOCK OST put into meme form. Send one or more in for our muses to interact. Feel free to change pronouns! 

“If I didn’t care, would I feel this way? ”
“If this isn’t love, then why would I thrill?”
“What makes my heart go ‘round and 'round?”
“The party’s over.”
“Allow me to say goodbye.”
“The stars belong to everyone.”
“Love can come to everyone.”
“The best things in life are free.”
“Wrap your troubles in dreams.”
“Dream your troubles away.”
“There’s only one thing to do.”
“Sunshine always follows the rain.”
“Just smile as they fall.”
“Weren’t you king for a day?”
“Your castles may tumble.”
“The weak ones fade.”
“You’ve got lots of friends.”
“You can help yourself.”
“My lover stands on golden sands.”
“My heart will lead me there.”
“They used to tell me I was building a dream.”
“I followed the mob.”
“Once I built a railroad.”
“Brother, can you spare a dime?”
“Once I built a tower up to the sun.”
“I was the kid with the drum.”
“Why don’t you remember?”
“Until I first met you, I was lonesome.”
“This old world seemed new to me.”
“I’ve racked my brain.”
“Please let me explain.”
“You’re the fairest in the land.”
“Kiss me and say you understand.”
“I am begging for your hand.”
“Each language only helps me tell you how grand you are.”
“I think of you night and day.”
“Our dreams cannot last long.”
“People seem to lose their way.”
“What is there to strive for?”
“It’s getting me down.”
“I must take a trip to California.”
“If he has a dog, he won’t be lonesome." 
"How much is that doggie in the window?”
“I do hope that doggie’s for sale.”
“I read in the papers there are robbers.”
“My love needs a doggie to protect him.”
“I don’t want a bunny or a kitty.”
“I don’t want a parrot that talks.”
“He can’t take a goldfish for a walk.”
“It’s bad for me.”
“I feel certain my friends would be glad for me.”
“I’m just crazy about myself.”
“I still have a feeling it’s bad for me.”
“Papa does great with it.”
“He goes fast; she goes slow.”
“I’m so pathetic.”
“You’re the smile on the Mona Lisa.”
“I’m a worthless check.”
“I’m a toy balloon that’s fated soon to pop.”
“The summer’s gone, and all the roses are falling.”
“I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow.”
“Tell me that you love me.”
“I shall sleep in peace until you come to me.”
“My heart still remembers you.”
“They always stare at me.”
“Who can that fool be?”
“Somehow I can’t forget.”

Jimin: Goodbye

Word count: 1,995

Genre: AU, romance/fluff, Jimin x reader

Originally posted by bwipsul

✩✩✩♔✩✩✩

What the actual fuck is wrong with people? Who needs to pick up and unfold

- EVERY - SINGLE - SHIRT -

on a display? What takes customers seconds to mess up takes you minutes to fix and while that may not seem like a long time, multiply that by four displays per aisle, and multiply THAT by the dozen in your department alone. And you don’t even want to THINK about all of the destroyed clearance racks, shuffled hanging displays, and repetitive questions from rude shoppers that will pepper the rest of your six hour closing shift.

Keeping the store neat is your job though, just behind making sure customers have a “good shopping experience,” whatever the hell that means. Thankfully, you have a partner today, someone to watch the ever busy fitting room while you try and maintain the merchandise on the floor. Quite frankly, it feels exactly like bailing a sinking oil tanker with a measuring cup.

Ah, the wonders of retail.

“Can I have all associates meet at the registers for the nightly huddle?” your manager’s peppy voice screeches out of your ear piece as you grapple for the volume knob on the walkie talkie, turning it down to save your hearing.

Nightly huddle, great. Fifteen minutes taken out of your meticulously planned folding schedule for the luxury of knowing if the store reached corporate’s sales goal, credit goal, unreasonably high service score goal, and other, completely useless information.

You would admit to hating it, but you need the money.

It’s the middle of summer, after all, and what better way to spend your break from college than at your part time job? At least your coworkers are nice. Most of them.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome!” your manager coos, clapping her hands excitedly, “We have big, big, big news today!”

Just like the big, big, big news yesterday, but you fail to bring it up, opting instead to share her large, but impressively genuine smile because kissing up to managers is one of the things you do best.

As the other employees slowly congregate, setting down the clothes they had been fixing nearby instead of waiting idly, you nod your polite hellos, happy to see some more than others, naturally. You pause your visual sweep, the motion abruptly stopping on a new face, and immediately notice two things.

Thing number one: he’s VERY cute.

Keep reading

2: This Is Where I Leave You

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: The day Bucky Barnes stumbles into your clinic with a bullet in his side is the day your life changed forever.

A/N: part twoooooo featuring the gang, i hope you enjoy it! im having so much fun writing this so i hope you all like it too! also message me if you wanna be tagged :)

Part 1, Part 3

After the Winter Soldier and Black Widow’s night-time visit to your clinic, nothing is really the same. There isn’t some dramatic change in your life, like superheroes falling out of the sky or something, but everything just feels slightly different. You scan every patient’s face for James’, you stay an extra hour every night just in case he shows up again with an urgent injury, and you can’t bring yourself to cash in the cheque from Tony Stark for a lot more money than a quick stitch-up requires.

You’re staring at that cheque in your office, as you have been for the past fifteen minutes during your lunch break, when your receptionist, Peter, knocks on your door. He pokes his head in looking absolutely terrified and frazzled out of his mind, which instantly has you standing up and focused.

Keep reading

No Separation

Characters- Rob x Reader, Richard, Jared, Jensen, Misha

Words- 4242(opps?)

Request by Anonymous- Can I get a Rob x Reader where the reader is apart of the supernatural cast and during a scene she really hurts her head and loses her memory and so the cast tries to help her remember and its kinda like Rob and the reader fall in love all over again, eventually she gets her memory back and he proposes to her.

Warnings- Memory loss, fluffy?

A/n- I’m sad

Tags- @ashiewesker @totallysupernaturaloneshots @whovianayesha @sammyxorae

Originally posted by painfulblisss

Originally posted by lamthetwickster

You always had fun running around the set with the guys. Jared felt the need to pull pranks on you today, mostly because he was bored. Not that you minded, you would just pull them back. Today you were lucky enough to have your boyfriend on set. Rob was playing Chuck/God. You liked having him on set. You met him when you joined in the show all the way back in season five. Something about him amazed you. From that moment on you two were inseparable, becoming really close friends. You guys did conventions together. But soon things changed and you felt something different for him, you were falling in love with Rob.

Rob felt the same way but neither of you wanted to say something in case it ruined your friendship. It was Richard who got you two together. He couldn’t stand being the one that you both talked to about. So he forced you two to admit your feeling for each other. That was four years ago. You spent all your time together and thanked Richard for doing what he did. He was just happy to finally have a moment of peace. Rob visited you quite often on set but now he was filming with you, which could be good or bad. He was a distraction from the boys who were extra annoying today. You guys were all on set messing with each other.

“You asked for it Y/n,” Jared warns throwing you over his shoulder.

“Put me down Jared!” You fight against him. You turn towards Jensen and Misha to help you but they just shrug. Rob walks on set and glares at Jared.

“What do we have here?” Rob’s voice made you look up at him.

“Tell Jared to put me down,” You pout, Rob smiles as Jared drops you.

“Party killer,” Jared walks away dramatically. Rob helps you up and kisses you.

“Save it for the bedroom kiddo’s,” Jensen shouts playfully at the two of you. Heat rises to your cheeks.

“You’re cute when you blush,” He pulls you into another kiss but you go back to filming.

Keep reading

HIM :(

HOSEOK JUST TWEETED (I typed that in all caps so you can read), but the thing is that he’s in his studio and his face looks extremely tired!!! There is a Korean word, “힘들어“ (heem/him-deuro) which translates to “I’m tired.” or simply ““ which is “strength.” Not to mention that it’s 1AM in Korea. All I’m saying is to refrain from sending dummy tweets like “daddy” or anything down that line. PLEASE SEND HIM WORDS OF STRENGTH!!!

Here’s something you can copy and paste:
노력하는 모습도 좋지만 건강이 걱정되네요, 건강도 잘챙기고 많이쉬세요.
It can be translated to, “Seeing you work hard is good but I’m worried for your health, so take care good care of your health and rest a lot.

맨날 응원하고있을께요.- I will always be cheering you on.

힘들때 감정을 너무 숨기지마세요, 정신적으로 좋지않아요. 팬들 있잖아요. - When you are having a hard time do not hide your emotions too much, it’s not good for you mentally. You have the fans!

I THINK HE REALLY NEEDS MESSAGES LIKE THIS RIGHT NOW! And who knows, if we can actually come together like a loving ARMY, maybe they’ll start reading our comments again and not lose the trust for their fans. We really gotta step up our game and show those boys that we care. 

the-bookish-soul  asked:

Hi Could you write a really fluffy fic for Feysand because I have been reading angst and sadness and spreading it Please I need some fluff now.

Mother’s tits it was cold. I looked at Rhys, trying to figure out why he thought this would be romantic. Nothing about this place made me want to shed a single layer of clothing, “Where are we?”

His eyes danced with excitement, “We’re in the northern most part of our Territory, a little cold Feyre, darling?”

I couldn’t help but chatter my response, “This place makes the Illyrian mountains feel like the summer court”

He chuckled in response, “I have to agree, but I promise it will be worth it”

He grabbed my hand and walked us towards a small cabin that I had failed to notice upon our arrival. I had spent 100 years with this selfless wonderful male, my mate. After a century he still amazed me. I was still amazed that this beautiful man was mine.

The cabin wasn’t really a cabin, it was more of a glass observatory. Rhys made his way to the center of the room, already shedding his outer jacket, spreading out across the massive lounge bed. I almost had to suppress a laugh, he was in such stark contrast to the snow white linens and pillows. In the century I had known him the lightest color he had ever warn was a deep violet.

Still thawing from the walk, I kept my winter jacket firmly in place, and blew warm breath in my cupped hands. A part of me wondered if spring ever found its way to these lands. Rhys dimmed the lights as he sauntered towards me, it was pitch black except the stars in the sky. He grabbed my hands and pressed them to his mouth, warmth instantly flooded me.

“You would think with that little bit of winter power, it would have made you immune to the chilling effects of this northern region” His eyes danced, cauldron I loved that smile.

“So why exactly are we here?”

He pointed at a little wisp of a white cloud. He did not seriously bring me here to view a cloud.

I stared at the cloud, trying to figure out what was so worth the frigid trip to no-faerie land. It felt like my senses were tricking me, they could not decide if the cloud was moving or if it was just a cloud. The luminous white glow slowly expanded as it took on a slight greenish cast. At first the glow swayed slowly from right to left until another wispy glowing line appeared.

Rhys wrapped his arms around me, I pressed my back against his chest basking in the warmth of his body. He teasingly unzipped my coat, while I focused on the wispy green lines.

We watched, transfixed on the lines that began to ripple across the night sky. The ghostly wisps looked like they were two strangers slowly learning how to dance. Cautious not to overwhelm the other or move too fast. Slowly the lines filled with a brighter shade of green, picking up speed, undulating like a sheet in the wind.

The green brightened as the ghostly lines became beacons of light with flickers of reds and pinks. As the pace quickened, violet and blues could be seen in the swirls. No other sounds, just our breathing in the night air as the sky erupted, dancing and swirling with the most beautiful light.

I whispered, “It’s beautiful, are they spirits?”

“We don’t know, we just call them the northern lights, they are only visible between the winter and spring solstices and only this far north. The lights will continue dancing all night.”

He leaned in, kissing my neck ever so softly. After all these years this male still make me quiver like it was the first time. A familiar litany of notes surrounded us, watching the sky dance, I finally understood the inspiration for the musical score that had once prevented me from breaking.

Rhys whispered against my neck, “May I have this dance?”

I simply purred, “Of course I’ll dance with you, all night if you wish.”

He smirked, “Even if I step on your toes?”

“Even then” I returned my unrestrained smile, the one that made his heart melt. This had become our game ever since that first Starfall. Somehow it always made every dance magical, transporting us to the first night that we were openly happy and even if we had not admitted it to one another, very much in love.  

Call for Help

Please read
All of my witchy friends, I need your help. Less than two months ago my landlord gave my family and I a two months notice to get out of our house. He then recently gave us less time, I don’t want to blab on about the details. Basically, we have to be out in three days and we don’t have a place. I will be staying with my grandparents apartment and my parents will be staying in a motel until we have a place. The problem is, we have three dogs. We are trying to find a friends house they can stay at and in all honestly I am considering trying to smuggle them into my grandparents apartment complex. But I’m worried that if we can’t find a place, my parents might resolve to putting them in a pound, which terrifies me. One of my dogs was a rescue who was abused so badly she wouldn’t trust anyone and any loud noise would make her run and hide for hours. It took me days to gain her trust but she still is very jumpy. My other dog is old and has what we believe to be cancer, and pound would likely put her down. And my third dog is very attached to me, she rarely leaves my side and when I leave she waits by he door until I get back. I can’t bare the thought of leaving any of them in a pound. My dogs are my family and my friends, they have been there for me when no one else has. If I lose them, I don’t know what I’ll do. I’m so scared that I’m going to lose them. So I’m asking that anyone who sees this post, put out a prayer to your deity/deities/god/guardian/whatever you believe in, or send me good energy. Please, I can’t lose my dogs. I’m already dealing with such terrible mental health as it is, I’m worried how worse I’ll get without them. Light a candle for them, a small ritual, anything. Or at the very least boost this post. Please.

system-null  asked:

Hi! Do you have any resources on writing a character with mild PTSD? All of my own research has only turned up PTSD symptoms from combat and nothing really helpful for a young female character with PTSD from a cause other than combat.

Writeworld has a great beginner’s guide [here] that is certainly worth checking out and a good read. For more in depth, I highly recommend KassCity’s How to Write a Character With PTSD as it analyzes in depth the many causes of PTSD (including “being female,” a great section that covers the traumas women often face and may be of great help to you in particular) and the other risk factors including genetics, trauma, neuroendocrinology, evolutionary psychology, and more. 

Some other sources that may help would include:

One of the best things to remember is that your character is an individual, so pulling out a laundry list of PTSD symptoms might help you to get a deeper understanding of the disorder but won’t tell you exactly how your character will react. A great quote about this can be found on how-to-write-a-book-now.com that says, “You are describing how this person, with his unique history, strengths, weaknesses, talents, likes, relationships, etc. copes with the particular traumatic events that he alone experienced. His behaviour will not be exactly the same as anyone else suffering from trauma, except in broad terms.” You can read more of that article [here]. 

I hope some of this helps, and please don’t hesitate to ask if you’re still having questions. This is such an important discussion; it’s great to see that soldiers are finally being given the help they need and that PTSD is coming to the forefront of our discussions, but it’s equally important to acknowledge how wide-spread this issue really is and represent all the different types of people who may suffer from PTSD. 

He brought me up out of the pit of destruction, out of the miry clay, And He set my feet upon a rock making my footsteps firm. Psalm 40:2
If you are living a life apart from God; falling into sin, pain, sorrow, frustration, despair, or even just the overwhelming demands of life – you need a rescuer, Jesus Christ! He alone can set you free from the sin and mess you are in. Simply lift up your arms, seek Him with all your heart, and lay those problems at His feet. No sooner than your prayers fill the air, will He will throw down a life raft of love, mercy, protection, provision and compassion.
When we accept Jesus as our Savior, we are rescued by God. Rescued from death, from sin, from the emotional suffering of past mistakes, from the pain of trying to live life on our own and from spending an eternity apart from His love.
Dear Lord, I need you. Please rescue me. Help me to see You at work in my life, and understand how I can glorify You through these circumstances. In Jesus’ Name, Amen. 

Punk!Michael Panic Attack (Part 2)

Masterlist

Request

written by: Sam

Part 2 of our punk michael mini series. Sonia has a panic attack, and Michael helps calm her down

Warnings: There is talk of anxiety, panic attacks, and meds in this. If any of those topics bother you please don’t read. Also, if you need to talk about any of those with someone me and Sam are always here!

word count: 3.1k

It started out as a great day.

The night before, Mikey dragged you to CVS and forced you to pick a new color for his hair, as he claimed his old color was getting “boring.” So, with his towering frame behind you and his hands around your waist, you pointed to the pink, to which he chuckled and said, “If that’s what you want.” And that’s how you found yourself in your bathroom with your 6 foot tall toddler of a boyfriend, dying his hair bright pink. And that’s how you ended up with my fingers slightly stained pink that wouldn’t come out for at least two days. That punk rock idiot is lucky you love him.

Mikey arrived at your house early the next morning with a huge smile and a bit of bed head, his hair the bright pink it was yesterday. He looked down at your appearance, giggling at your sweatpants and bare feet. “Why aren’t you dressed? Let’s go somewhere?”

You smiled, closing the door. “Ugh, can’t we just stay inside today? I’m not in a ‘going out’ mood,” you say, leading him up to your room.

“Babe, it’s so nice out! Come on, it’ll make you feel so much better.” He urges.

"I just want to snuggle!” You yelled into the pillow after you ran into your room and tackled the bed.

“We can snuggle somewhere else. Come on, let me take you out. How else am I supposed to show off my girl?” He laughed, straddling your backside and pinching your sides.

You jumped, screeching, “Ugh! Alright! But first, Taco Bell.” you say sternly, your mouth still muffled by the pillow.

Mikey rolled off of you. “What the princess wants, the princess gets,” he chuckles, rolling you off the bed, getting impatient. “Now get dressed.” He laughs as our feet hit the floor. You stand up with a huff, scurrying away to find clothes and change in the bathroom. 20 minutes later, it was like Michael had become even more impatient. “You don’t need makeup,” he whined as he sat on the toilet seat while you finished doing your eyebrows. “You already have eyebrows, what’s the point of drawing more eyebrow over it?”

You laughed, “You wouldn’t understand.”

“How much longer?” He whined like a 5 year old.

“10 more minutes.” You say slowly, “Maybe 15.” He groaned in annoyance. “I mean we could just stay here if you’re that pissed off.” That shut him up.

20 minutes later, with minimal whining from Michael, you were on our way to Taco Bell, hand in hand in his truck with The Killers blasting through his speakers.

“You sit there in your heartache, waiting for some beautiful boy to,” Michael sang at the top of his lungs, terribly off key on purpose.

“To save you from your old ways,” you sang back, laughing too much to really make out the words.

“You play forgiveness,” Michael yells back.

“Watch it now,” you yell theatrically.

“Here he comes!” He yells back even more dramatically. You’re laughing too much to continue, so he picks up the next line, “He doesn’t look a thing like Jesus, but he talks like a gentleman, like you imagined when you were young,” He sings, dramatizing the drag at the end, and to your displeasure he has to turn the music down so he could order into the speaker in the drive thru. You wiped tears from your eyes as you clutched your stomach, really feeling the dull ache setting in.“What do you want to eat, love?” He asks, squeezing your thigh.

You hummed, looking over the menu. Ummm… nachos.”

“Just nachos?” Mikey asks incredulous.

“And…” you tore your eyes away from his and back to the menu. “One 5-layer beefy burrito please?” he turns to you when the man’s voiceasks if that’ll be all. “Drink?” he prompts you.

“Pink lemonade?” You ask hopefully. You hadn’t thought of an alternative, so you hoped they’d have it.

“A pink lemonade and a Baja Blast and that’ll do it,” Mikey called back, mindlessly lacing his fingers with yours.

The man called out your total and instructed you to drive up, and upon stopping at the first window you pulled your bag up from the floor, pulling out your wallet. Without looking at you, Michael pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, having to push his pelvis up a little in the driver’s seat. The then wordlessly reached out and grabbed your wallet, and tossed it in the back seat, still not looking at you.

“Michael!” You exclaimed, trying to reach for your wallet, but it was no use; your arms were far too short. By the time you gave up, Michael was already getting his change back which he then haphazardly threw into his cupholder, landing on top of the other metal coins kept there with a clank,

“What’s the matter love?” He feined confusion.

“Mike, I could have paid,” you scolded.

“Oh well,” He laughed, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles.

Michael pulled up to the next window, getting your bag of heart attack and handing it to you so he could drive away. “Where do you want to eat, babe?” he asked, pulling away slowly.

“Let’s go to the park,” you suggest, pulling open your nachos and dipping one in the gooey cheese so you can pop one in Michael’s mouth since you knew he’d be dying of hunger as he smelled the burritos.

The drive to the park took less than 5 minutes, and once the truck was put in the park you tossed a burrito in Michael’s lap as he opened the windows to allow the summer air to waft in. It took twenty minutes for you to consume your burrito and nachos and it took Michael fifteen to consume his 3 burritos and nachos.

Michael tried, but failed, to conceal a loud burp. “What do you wanna do now, love?” he asks as you pull tic tacs from your bag. Upon hearing the clack of the mints he dropped his jaw, waiting for you to shake some into his awaiting mouth.

You concentrated on getting the tiny mints in his mouth and not on the floor before answering. “Wanna just go for a walk?”

“Sure thang, chicken wang.” He replied, pulling up the windows so that they were just cracked an inch before grabbing his keys and shoving them in his pocket before running around to your side so he could help you out of the truck. His hand immediately found yours as you fell into a slow pace with Mikey, as you talked about everything and anything with him. A half an hour later Mikey wanted to take a seat on a bench near a playground because he was getting tired and sweaty, and you naggingly reminded him that he shouldn’t have worn his black jeans, and that you had definately told him so. Regardless, the two of you found yourselves watching a little girl take the journey up the ladder of the big slide, then burst out in tears once she saw what she’d gotten into. The girl looked around for her mom or dad, but cried more when she could find neither. Before you could even talk, Michael was pulling you up rather forcefully by your hand and walking/jogging quickly to the slide, letting your hand go when he was about 10 feet away. Michael took four of the steps on the ladder, his shoulders and head already making it to the top.

“Hey love, what’s your name?” Michael asked the girl softly.

“Isabelle.” The little girl sniffled, her sobs quieting.

“Isabelle? That’s my favorite name!” Michael replied, exaggerating surprise and excitement. Isabelle giggled. “Why’re you crying, Isabelle?”

“I don’t want to go down the slide, and I can’t go down the ladder,” She explained, not all of her consonants coming out clearly due to her age.

“Well, how about I help you down? I’ll be your personal elevator,” Isabelle simply nodded eagerly, allowing Michael to take a few steps more so he could pull her into his chest and climb back down, gently placing her pink sandals on the grass.

“Thank you, mister.” She yelled, running off to play some more.

“You’re welcome,” he yelled back, but she probably didn’t even hear him, too consumed by the swing set now. Michael shoved his hands in his front pockets and walked back to you.

“You can’t tell anyone,” he mumbled as he pulled his hand into yours and pulled you along to continue your walk.

“Tell anyone what? That big, bad, punk Mikey is actually a huge softie?” you teased as he blushed slightly and kissed the back of your connected hand in response.

You didn’t remember how long the two of you had been walking, because you were too invested in talking about your newest book, 13 reasons why. It was a book you read many times before, but was always worth reading again. In fact, you had talked to Mikey about it for hours the first time you finished it, and he even held you while you cried while reading it, although he didn’t get why. You often got emotional about books, it was nothing new.

But while you were avidly describing the last tape, which Michael had heard all before but still politely listened with a smile on his face, Michael’s body visibly went from easygoing and relaxed to tense and on edge. You paused, looking up at him.

“Let’s head back to the truck, yeah?” He said, tugging you in the direction of where Mikey parked. Mikey closed his eyes and sighed unhappily at a shrill call of his name. He wouldn’t meet your confused gaze as he reluctantly turned around with a fake polite smile on his lips.

“Mikey, how are you?” the shrill voice was given a face, Alexandra, a girl from our school-rather, a girl that used to go to our school. She was three years older than us and dropped out her senior year. She walked up to you and Michael with one of her friends.

“Great, Lexy, how are you,” he replied, squeezing your hand,

You see, Alexandra and Michael had a history. It was a bit of a one-sided history, but a history nonetheless. Last year, Alexandra and Michael did it at a party, and Alexandra couldn’t just leave it at a one night stand. She began popping up out of nowhere. She’d call him, text him (he hadn’t even given her his phone number, so he still doesn’t know how she got it,) and when she popped up at his work, that’s when he finally flipped.

“You never call anymore, I’ve missed you!” She exclaimed, ignoring his polite question. She acted as if they were old friends.

“Oh well, sorry.” Michael said, not sounding very sorry at all.“We actually have to go, so…” he trailed off, heading for the truck again.

“Oh, I get it. Gotta get the sister home, right?” She teased. She knew damn well you weren’t his sister.

“Actually, Sonia and I are together now, so could you back the fuck off?” Mikey asked bitterly, turning around. All pleasantries flew right out the window as he lost his calm facade. Alexandra and her friend quickly sized me up, not hiding the amusement on their faces.

“Her?” She said, threatening to laugh. “I mean, if that’s what you want, Michael.” She pretended to smile sweetly. “Crazy bitch.” She bit back under her breath. That one hit hard.

When you used to get panic attacks a lot in school, the kids would laugh most of the time. Watching you freak out earned you more or less a reputation. Being “crazy” or “tapped” were just a few. You weren’t crazy. You hated being called crazy. Michael’s entire body tensed up, his jaw clenching so hard you were afraid he’d break teeth. He wordlessly pulled you back to the truck, the vein in his forehead now popping out. His chest heaved when Alexandra called out “Crazy slut” One last time, not caring what people or children in the area could hear.

Michael helped you into the truck, running back and climbing in himself, gripping your hand once he sat down and rubbing circles onto the back of your hand with his thumb to try to get himself to calm down. You didn’t say a word the entire time.

It wasn’t until Mikey started the engine and started to pull away that your arms started to feel cold, and the A/C wasn’t even on. You started thinking; your mind began racing. You felt a cold at the back of your neck, goose bumps scattering across your shoulders. Your forehead is sweaty though, and you wipe away the moisture with the heel of your free hand.

Your mind flashes images of Michael’s hand holding Alexandra’s. That night, you saw him pull her up the stairs. Your mind starts to create images of it’s own: Michael kissing her like he kissed you. You know it was stupid. You’re so stupid. Stupid, stupid. Your mind became mush, your breathing quickening. The car was going too fast. You’re going to be sick. You peek at the dash. You were only going 25? It felt like much more. Your hands are shaking. You’re not crazy. You’re not crazy. Sonia calm down. Stop it, stop it!

“Michael, stop the truck.” you demand breathlessly.

“What’s up babe, why?” he asks, glancing at you and turning back to the road.

“I can’t- I can’t breathe, Michael, pull over.” You say, starting to sob. You unbuckle your seat belt and reach for the doorhandle. Michael pulls you into him by your belt, hitting your hip on the center console as he clutched you to him, his free arm around your ribcage. He swerves a little as he finds a place to actually pull into. Once the truck is stopped, Michael lets you go, and you each open your doors at the same time. Michael runs around the truck to try to help you out, but you stumble out yourself before he can even reach you. Your legs give out almost immediately. Michael followed suit, going to his knees.

Michael pulls you between his legs, your eyes meeting as his hands forced you to look at him. “Sonia, baby,” He says slowly. “Slow down, angel.” Your breathing slows a bit, your hands still shaking. “You’re safe, okay?” He repeats his words until you stop shaking, your head going to the crook of your neck. Your breathing goes back to normal and he kisses the top of your head, standing up and picking you up by the back of your thighs. He pulls open to the passenger door, placing you in your seat and buckling you before walking around and jumping in himself. Before you can even blink he’s driven you home, spending the night with junk food and cuddles.

At around 9:00 at night, with the credits to 500 Days of Summer playing in the background, Michael turned his head to look at you seriously. “I’m sorry, angel,” He murmurs quietly.

"Sorry for what?” you ask, eyebrows creasing.

“For this afternoon.” He replies.

“Michael, you know it wasn’t your fa-” You’re cut off.

“It woudn’t have happened if I wasn’t there.” He won’t look you in the eye,

“If you weren’t the person with me, it could have gone so much worse.” You point out.

He smiles slightly, shaking his head sadly. “I have a lot of ghosts, angel. And they’re haunting you, when they should be haunting me.”

You know there’s nothing you can say to change his self image. You hate that he tears himself down, but you know he won’t listen to anything you say, so you simply reply, “I don’t mind.” His smile grows slightly, pulling you closer to him.

Michael’s POV

She falls asleep on top of my chest, her eyes fluttering and her hair fanned out across my bicep. She’s completely knocked out, letting out faint, high- pitched snores every few minutes (although she’ll always argue that she doesn’t snore. “I’m the one that watches you sleep, dollface” I argue every time. She still insists she doesn’t snore.)

But anyway, I look down at my girl. I know it’s only a matter of time now that she leaves me, I think this afternoon proved that. I’m no good for her; I’ll never be everything she needs. I can only hope one day she realizes that because I’m too selfish to let her go.

The next guy needs to know that she’s too fast at everything she does. She finishes books fast, finishes tests fast. She can clean the whole house in an hour. She can do her hair in 15 minutes and her makeup in 5, and it’s not because she’s no cosmetologist. Because she’s quick. Don’t ask her why, because she won’t notice it. But tell her to slow down once in a while. NOT calm down, because then you’ll see her brown eyes flicker with panic because that’s what’s causing it: her anxiety. When she’s having an attack, don’t act like your patronizing her. Don’t act annoyed. Tell her to slow down, because she forgets to. When she’s kissing you too fast, just tell her you’re not going anywhere. Tell her you have time. She forgets. Remind her.

Remind her that it’s not her fault that she is the way she is. When she’s frustrated, kiss her temple. When she gets her migraines, just shut up, shut off the bright lights, and get her her medicine.

Oh yeah, her medicine. Remind her to take that in the morning and night too. Remind her that there’s nothing wrong with having to take it. remind her that it makes her feel better. Between the anti-depressants, mood stabilizers, anti-anxiety meds, meds for pain, blood pressure meds, and stomach meds, she gets overwhelmed. She starts to feel like she’s mental. When she’s staring down her orange bottles, remind her that you love her. Remind her that it doesn’t make her any different or any less of a beautiful person. I had to learn this on my own, through years of tears and attacks and yelling and frustration. Not once did she tell me what she “needed” me to do. While of course, I wish she came with an instruction manual, I know she didn’t know what she needed either. Regardless, I’ll gladly spend forever finding new things about her, putting her puzzle together, and helping her in any way I can.

I love her, disorders and all.

For those of you registered American voters out there reading this, I have an entire drawer of Turkeys (Meleagris gallopavo) today as a reminder for you to go and vote.

While it is a myth that Benjamin Franklin suggested a turkey as our national bird, he did comment that a turkey may be more appropriate than a Bald Eagle, which Franklin thought was “a Bird of bad moral Character.”

Make these turkeys of excellent character proud, and if you can, please go and vote. Many local museums need your vote to pass proposals that can help them with their budgets, with repairs and expansions, and sometimes with just staying open. Make your voice heard, and support your local dead things!

Photo credit: Ash Boudrie

G F & GF

Do you remember this, thisthis? Sweet memories, right?

Can you picture this?:

Austin- Ross Lynch
Ally- Laura Marano
Trish- Raini Rodriguez
Dez- Calum Worthy ( Of course!)
Kira - (right now is) Courtney ( the poor girl!), but you can also just picture other potential Ross’ girlfriend
Elliot- Andrew or any other potential Laura’s boyfriend:

1.Kira: No! Its just, I thought you and Ally liked each other.
Austin: What? Me and Ally? Pssssh, no way!
Kira: You sure? Because I’ve never seen a guy and girl spend so much time together that weren’t boyfriend/girlfriend.
Austin: Trust me. Ally and I are just friends. We like each other a lot, but not in that way!

2.Trish: “When it comes to Austin and Ally no gesture is too big. They have a special relationship.”

3.Ally: Imagine! Kira’s there, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight. Sparkle, sparkle, sparkle, sparkle. The breeze blowing her hair, Breeze, breeze, breeze, breeze. What can you do to show her how you feel?

Austin: I can get her a gift! Oh, I know! I’ll get her a necklace with her name on it just like yours!
Ally: (looking a little bit hurt) Perfect! She’ll Love that.
Austin: I’ll wait to the most romantic part of the movie.
Ally: She’ll be all cute and love-y.
Austin: I’ll lean in, put my arm around her.
Ally: She’ll nuzzle up, feeling butterflies.
Austin: My heart will be beating out of my chest. It’ll be…

Austin & Ally: Perfect.

4.Austin: Better get to my perfect date, don’t want to keep the perfect girl waiting.
Trish: Sometimes, the perfect girl is closer than you think.
Ally: (looking at her in a “Seriously, Trish? You can’t just… do that!)
Austin:(clueless) Not really. The parks a good twenty minute walk from here.

5.Ally: Yeah, I like Austin! 
Trish: (excited) Ally this is huge! What happened?
Ally: I don’t know! We were pretending we were on the perfect date, and it felt like…Like we were on the perfect date! Trish I’m freaking out! What should I do?
Trish: Well, for starters, I wouldn’t help him plan a date with another girl. You need to tell Austin, you like him.
Ally: But he likes Kira.
Trish: Maybe he wouldn’t if he knew how you felt
Ally: If I say something, and he doesn’t feel the same way, everything will be ruined, our friendship, our partnership, everything! Please, promise me you won’t say anything.
Trish: Your secret’s safe with me. 

6.Ally: (reading Austin’s note) There’s no way I can make it without you…

7.Austin: Hey Trish! Have you seen Ally? Trish: No, she’s out with Elliot.Austin: Again? It’s been three days. How long does it take to catch up with a guy?
Trish: A regular looking guy: a day. A cutie like him: you may never see Ally again.

8.Elliot: And then I said, "Your baskets were unbe-weaveable.”
Ally: We had so much fun back then!
Austin: Well, I bet your fun back then wasn’t any more fun than our fun back now.

9.Dez: Austin, don’t you see what’s going on here? You like Ally. Austin: What?! That’s crazy!Dez: Is it? You know like everything about Ally.
Austin: Well, yeah! I like a lot of stuff about Ally. I like writing songs with her.
Dez: Uh-huh.
Austin: I like that I can talk to her about anything.
Dez: Go on.
Austin: I like her smile… And the way she laughs. Oh and I like it when we play piano and my hand accidentally touches hers. And I get this awesome feeling that no one, not even Kira makes me… Oh man, I like Ally.
Dez: Oh, it’s more than that, buddy… I think you’re in love with her. (does an arm gesture around in a circle)
Austin: Wow, I like Ally.

10.Trish: At least you don’t have to worry about Elliot anymore. Austin made that easy.Ally: Yeah, what was that all about?Trish: I don’t know. If you ask me, he’s been acting weird since Elliot got here. It’s like he’s jealous.Ally: Jealous? …You don’t think…Trish: Yup, Austin likes you.
You Loser

Okay, I received this prompt from a very patient Anon back in August (I’m sorry it took forever, you patient saint.)  And then last night, @hannibalnuxvomica asked for a fic based on this prompt, “Fuck me, you loser.”  I’m killing two birds with one stone here.


You Loser

How they ended up at a local dive bar, outside of Bedford, was beyond any of them.  Hannibal, Will, Team Sassy Science – even Jack Crawford were there, stuck in East Jesus Nowhere on their way back from a case in Pittsburgh.

All of them had gone in an unmarked FBI van to examine a crime scene suspected to belong to the Ripper.  It had been a rather gruesome one, and after a long day dealing with grumpy local feds, a botched crime scene that was definitely not the Ripper’s, and crappy food, the stupid van – or lab on wheels as it was affectionately known – decided to conk out on the side of the road.  It would be a couple of hours before a tow would reach them, even with the Bureau’s help.  

And so, the group found themselves walking down a semi deserted road to make their way to Lucinda’s Lounge. The only place open at 10:30 at night.

“No one talk to me,” Jack grumbled.  “I just want a drink and to be left alone with my thoughts.”

“Then maybe you should have stayed in the van?” Zeller replied.  Beverly shot him a look to shut up before Uncle Jack gave it to him, but good.

Will and Hannibal walked behind at the end of the group, as Will said quietly, “I bet you’re glad you came with us, aren’t you?”

Hannibal unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and said with a smile, “True, it’s not how I envisioned my Saturday night to be – but at least the company is agreeable.”

Will grinned, and looked at the ground, as they continued walking, “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”

Keep reading

4

CITY: Newcastle, CO, or something

SMELL: Warm rubber, hot asphalt, and the always vaguely appealing and carcinogenic scent of gasoline

PLACE: Kum & Go

THE WAY: While driving from the Denver tour stop to a conference in Provo, UT, the Camaro suddenly bucked explosively and deathfully. When I limped it into a gas station with a name I feel uncomfortable printing on a blog children read, I discovered that my alternator was again at fault. This time, a bolt in the rear had worked itself loose, wrenching a wire completely in half and cutting power to things I had come to love and treasure in my time as a driver: lights, windshield wipers, radios, signal lights, a/c, the everything. Why would the bolt do such a thing, one wonders? Because earlier in the tour, another bolt had leapt free from the alternator and now all of them longed to follow their dreams. 

PEOPLE: My co-pilot, Brenna Yovanoff, helpfully stripped the wire with a seam ripper from her knitting bag, and then we applied judicious quantities of electrical tape. I was determined to make it twelve miles down the road to buy a new alternator that had no dreams of its own. Enough of this. Benjamin Franklin had things to say about hanging together and hanging separately, and I needed an alternator that would remember that. Sadly, the battery had run dead, the car wouldn’t start, and every tow truck driver in an hour radius was occupied following their dreams. Then a truckload of boys, manboys, a man, and dirt bikes asked if we needed help. “Yes,” said Brenna, putting down her knitting needles. “Please jump start our aged vehicle.” They did. The boys, manboys, and man also kindly offered to follow us to our exit. At the AutoZone in Rifle, a man named Ryan sold me another alternator and installed it while I ate cookies and handed him various tools. He told me he hadn’t read a book since sixth grade. He recalled the last novel, he reported. He told me it had been about a man who’d tried to escape from a prisoners’ camp and gotten his legs shot off with a machine gun. I replied that I reckoned that was a pretty good reason to give up novels. 

*The bikers said they were going to Moab to ride, a thing I ardently wished to do myself as soon as they had said it out loud. Unlike some car parts, however, I understood that one could not always wander off on one’s own agenda.