rooms too cold

Meltdown vs Shutdown

In autistic people, meltdowns and shutdowns may occur. Here’s what they are, how to identify them, and what to do if someone you know is experiencing one.

A meltdown is a period of explosive anger/sadness/rage/fear which may manifest itself through screaming, crying, yelling, and can occasionally include violent outbursts. In younger children, meltdowns are often confused with tantrums. A tantrum is a tactic used by children to achieve a goal, such as getting a toy they want from the store. A meltdown is not a power play, it is an intense emotional point at which the person can no longer cope with what is happening around them. Meltdowns can occur at ANY AGE. This is an important distinction from tantrums, which tend to subside around ages 5-6. For me, meltdowns are triggered when I feel misunderstood, or feel that something in the environment is unfair or illogical.
Signs that an autistic person is having a meltdown include:
- arguing
- screaming/yelling
- crying
- retreating to a space they feel safer in
- if the person is angry during a meltdown, they may insult the people around them
- curling up into a ball/ fetal position
- going under blankets/ a dark quiet place
- sometimes the person may hit/ kick/ scratch anyone who tries to go near them
- if the person had a goal in mind which was impeded by others, they might perseverate and continue attempting to achieve that goal

What you should and shouldn’t do during a meltdown:
- Allow the person go where they want to/ stay where they want to, unless the place they’re going/ staying presents an immediate safety threat
- do not try to rationalize with them or continue any previous argument
- bring them a blanket and a water bottle with water in it
- if the person has a comfort object bring it to them and let them have it
- do not physically restrain or interact with the person unless they CLEARLY indicate a desire for physical touch
- only touch or restrain the person if they are in immediate danger and you need to get them away from the situation
- stay with the person until the meltdown is over (this may be 15 minutes to 3+ hours so you might want something to occupy yourself while you wait for them to calm down)
- however if the person tells you to go away, respect them and leave the room. However you should stay in the general area in case they become self destructive or violent
- tell the person that you love and care for them and that you will be with them/ there for them until the meltdown passes

A period of intense emotional/ sensory distress which manifests itself through a period of mental paralyzation. Someone experiencing a shutdown may become partially or entirely unresponsive to outside stimuli or interaction. Internally, the person may be experiencing extreme turmoil and anxiety, so it is important not to ask the person questions, which will make them more anxious and overwhelmed.
Signs that an autistic person is having a shutdown:
- staring blankly into space/ at one specific thing with fixed, unmoving eyes
- a stiff, rigid, unmoving posture
- lack of verbal communication

- breathing may be shallow and rapid or suppressed and slow, could be abnormally loud or abnormally quiet
- lack of response to outside stimuli ex. waving hands in front of their face (please don’t do that), speaking to them, asking them what’s wrong
- sensitivity to loud noise and bright lights (person may cover their eyes or ears)

During a shutdown, here is what you can do to help:
- you can quietly and calmly ask the person if they are having a shutdown. The person might not be able to respond, but if they don’t then it’s safe to assume that they are indeed having a shutdown.
- if the person normally likes physical affection and touch, you can hold them/ hug them/ stroke them/ physically comfort them
- if the person normally dislikes physical affection and touch, don’t touch them
- if the person has a comfort object and you have access to it, bring it to them (if the comfort object is more than 10- 15 minutes away from you then it’s probably not worth getting because it might not arrive in time to help)
- bring the person a water bottle with water in it
- stop talking about/ discussing any emotionally stressful topics
- if the situation is immediately dangerous, seeing as the person may be unable to move, remove them from the situation as soon as physically possible. You can do this by carrying the person or any other safe method.
- try to remove any sources of sensory information. If the room is bright, turn off the majority of the lights. If the room is loud, make it quiet. If the room is too cold or too hot, make it comfortable. In the case of cold, you can do this by covering the person in a non-itchy, soft blanket.
- reassure the person that you are there for them. Walk them through what you’re doing as you do it. For example, if you’re going to get the person water, tell them. If you’re going to get them out of the situation, tell them. If you’re going to turn off bright lights, tell them. Remember, even if we can’t communicate, we can still hear. It’s comforting to know what’s going on around us.

I think that’s just about it, if anyone has anything to add please let me know. I hope that everyone finds this helpful!

"I'm sorry" Langst Fic(Trigger Warning plz be safe) PT-2

Allura hadn’t got that much sleep that night.

She was aware that she had hurt Lance, and realized he was offering her comfort, as a good teammate- and friend- ought to have done.

But Allura, she had only responded with hate. She had insulted him. She had told him he was useless, and that he didn’t deserve to be the blue paladin.

But now that she had cleared her head, she realized just how wrong she was for saying such a thing to him.

Not only did he deserve to be the blue paladin- he had been made to be the blue paladin of Voltron. He had proven himself time and time again, over and over, that he deserved to be here with the team, just as much as anyone else did.

In her desperation to find an acceptable apology for Lance, she had marched straight up to Shiro’s room, knocked on the door, and waited.

The door slid open within two ticks, and Shiro cocked a questioning eyebrow at Allura.

“I need to talk to you. May I come in?” Shiro didn’t know what about, but he let Allura in, nodding, and watching from the still open door as she sat down on the edge of his bed, holding her head in her hands.

“Princess? What’s wrong?” Shiro asked hurriedly, closing the door and walking over to where she sat, crouching down to her level. He tensed when he saw that her cheeks were tear stained.

“Allura?” He questioned, concern littered across his expression. Allura shook her head in response and inhaled shakily.

“Shiro, I… I hurt him.” Allura managed to choke the words out, and her voice threatened to crack. Shiro was confused, but comforted her either way, stroking her hair and rocking her slightly.

“Allura, who did you hurt?” Shiro asked calmly, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly, patiently awaiting an answer.

She sighed sadly, a pitiful expression being the only insight to what might’ve happened.

“Lance. Last night. I told him that I was a fool for making him the blue paladin. He was just trying to help me with my own pain and I had to go and take my anger out on him instead of saying thank you. Like a normal person would.” Allura gestured outwards in exasperation as if illustrating her point further.

 A picture of Lance’s stuffy nose, pink-tinged, and tear stained face popped up into Shiro’s train of thought, and tingles of anxiety bloomed in his stomach. Without thinking, Shiro mumbled to himself. 

 “That’s why he looked so bad.” Shiro looked to the floor, and before he realized it, Allura was tensing and turned to face him. 

 “You saw him last night? After I yelled at him?” Allura took Shiro by the shoulders, shaking him lightly. Her voice was laced with panic. He nodded stiffly.

“How am I going to apologize to Lance?! I hurt him so badly, Shiro- you won’t be able to form Voltron if Lance is in pain- and even if you didn’t need to form Voltron anytime soon, Lance is still a member of this team, and he deserves to be happy.” Her hands found their way to her hair, and she stared at the floor with wide, panicked eyes.
 Shiro was slightly taken aback by her ranting but smiled warmly as he processed her words. 

 “Tell him exactly how you feel. Apologize sincerely.” Shiro responded, rubbing circles on her back. Allura thought quietly for a moment, before rising calmly and nodding her head briefly. 

She turned to Shiro, who now was looking at her proudly, and a little shocked. Her emotions were a little erratic at the moment, he concluded but went along with whatever she had planned. 

 "This will need to be a group effort. I am not going to be the only one on this team treating him kindly from now on. We all include him, compliment him, praise him, and bond with him. I refuse to have one of my paladins consistently unhappy. Shiro, I am going to need your help talking to the others- especially Hunk. I don’t know what he’ll do to me when he finds out what I told Lance.” Shiro and Allura collectively shivered.

“Understood, princess.” Shiro nodded and rose from the bed.

“Thank you for helping me, Shiro. I really do appreciate it.” Allura smiled fondly, which Shiro mistakenly assumed was gratitude, and took her leave.

“I’ll see you in the control room soon!” Allura called behind her shoulder, leaving Shiro to his own thoughts. 

Shiro had a lot of apologizing to do as well. He had brushed off Lance’s own feelings and problems, and he felt like shit for it.

Allura was determined to set things right between her and Lance, and marched her ass down to the control room. Once there, she pulled up a transparent screen, and clicked a few buttons, dragged a few knobs down, and there was the sound of a soft alarm.  

 It wasn’t blaring, but it wasn’t loud enough to where you could ignore it. She played it in every room except for Lance’s. She needed to talk to every paladin except for him. She needed to discuss the issues they were making when they came into contact with Lance.  

 She needed to fix this. 

 And she was going to fix it right. Now.

Pidge, Keith, Hunk, Coran, and Shiro all made their way to the control room, their thoughts seemingly somewhere else.

Pidge was looking down at the ground, timing their steps.

Keith was looking forward solemnly, lost in thought.

Shiro was focused on the task at hand.

Coran was fiddling with the end of his mustache.

Hunk’s stomach was aching for some food.

They entered the control room as a collective unit, the team taking notice that Lance was not in the room with them.

Coran sighed and made his way to the exit.

“I’ll go wake the boy up.” Coran sighed sleepily, and Allura stopped him before he could physically leave.

“Coran, I purposely did not wake him up. I called you here specifically to talk about Lance.” The team, excluding Shiro, tensed, and anxiety blossomed in their guts.

“What about Lance?” Hunk was the first to speak, anxiety evident in his voice. 

The aura of the room was cold… Too cold.

“There is no need for alarm Hunk- I checked on Lance earlier. Physically speaking, he is unharmed.” Allura lied, images of Lance’s crimson stained floor coming to mind, memories of her crying in the doorway. 

Thank god he’s a deep sleeper.’ Allura thought to herself, images of the now cleaned and properly bandaged cuts across Lance’s forearms flashing across her train of thought.

She had scrubbed the quiznak out of his floor, and rummaged through a majority of his things(which she argued over doing for who knows how many minutes), and confiscated all sharp items he might have been able to harm himself with. 

She had found him earlier that morning, wanting to apologize, but after finding him in such terrible shape, her confidence shattered, and she didn’t know how to approach the situation.

But now she did.

“We need to talk about the manner in which we treat Lance.” Allura sighed, looking at the ground in disappointment.

“Princess, I can assure you we-” Coran began, but Allura smiled at him reassuringly, showing that she was not upset with any of them.

She turned back to the rest of the group, smiling sadly.

“I have noticed that our attitudes towards him are less than acceptable. In fact, our tendencies to snap at him and reprimand him mercilessly make me angry. Not only that- they damage him and his well being.” Pidge made an act to protest, but Allura raised her hand to silence them.

“I am no exception to this. I made a particularly rude multitude of comments to Lance last night, and I believe I caused him to second guess his position on this team and his usefulness to the rest of us.” Allura’s voice cracked on the last sentence, and the room was eerily silent.

“Oh my God…” Hunk whispered, and a shiver ran up Allura’s spine.

She inhaled shakily, gathering as much courage as possible to get through the next sentences. 

“He had suggested that I try talking about Altea. He told me it might’ve eased some of the pain that came with losing it. I told him that I didn’t want to talk about a planet that no longer existed.” Allura sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Hesitantly, she continued.

“When he had tried to apologize… I…” 

That’s when the tears began to flow.

They were unrelenting, and they were an endless testament to her guilt.

“I told him that I was a fool to make him the blue paladin. I told him he did more harm than good. That I didn’t want his help. I called him useless! I messed up so badly- I let my quiznaking emotions get the better of me and I took out all my pent up anger out on him- and now he’s upset and doubting himself, and it’s all my fault.” Allura finished off with a sob and collapsed to the ground.

The team watched as the princess clasped her hands over her face in shame.

None of them knew what to do- but they had a pretty good idea.

Hunk was the first to move towards her and crouched down to look her in the eye.

“I will never forgive you for hurting my best friend. Especially Lance.” Hunk whispered, lifting her chin up to look her in the eyes. Allura’s lip quivered.

“But, I love him enough to where I will help him forgive you.” Hunk smiled and pulled Allura into a tight hug.

She helplessly sobbed into his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his torso. She hadn’t been hugged in such a way since she had needed to delete her father’s AI.

It stung.

But in a good way.

Pidge burst into tears, and rushed to Hunk and Allura, joining in on the cuddle fest, sobbing uncontrollably. They were upset that Allura was the reason that Lance was unhappy last night, but yelling at her wasn’t going to resolve anything for the Voltron team, so instead, they joined in.

Coran joined in afterward, walking forwards and comforting Pidge and Allura.

Before long, Keith and Shiro were tugged into the bunch(much to their discomfort, but they went with it anyway), and they stayed like that for a few ticks, until finally pulling apart.

Allura was the first to speak.

“I think we all know what we have to do.” Allura looked up at the rest of the team, determination dripping off her tone.

Shiro grinned, Coran nodded, Pidge smirked, and Hunk gave her a thumbs up.

They turned to Keith, who had his eyes on a particularly interesting crack in the floor.

He sighed.

“I think I need to do more than that. I need to confess to him.” Keith mumbled, a blush creeping across his cheeks.

“Holy quiznak.”

part one   part three

How to Make an INTP

Now that your INTP Starter Kit has been successfully shipped (we apologize for the excessive shipping rates, your INTP can carry extreme emotional baggage if not handled properly), this instruction packet will guide you through the simple steps on how to assemble your INTP. Let’s do this!

Step One: After removing the harsh wit, werewolf blood, and kitten hair from the package, place them in the bowl with the Devil’s Chocolate Cake mix and stir until thoroughly combined. 

Step Two: Take your mixture and add precisely 10 ounces of any carbonated beverage of your choice. This will ensure that your INTP is well saturated with bubbly and toxic humor, but to inhale it through the nose will make you choke, cough, and possibly die. Please do not inhale the mixture. 

Step Three: Let the mixture rise in a room temperature place. A room too hot will make the mixture too warm (which could result in a grumpy INTP), a room too cold will result in a chill, also known as the Burrito Effect, which will permanently make your INTP wrap themselves in a blanket burrito and never leave that position. Ever.

Step Four: Once your INTP is fully risen (it will take about seventeen years), sprinkle the top with wi-fi. They love wi-fi, and will only bloom properly if given the w-fi. Don’t skip the wi-fi. 

Step Five: Stand back and watch your INTP rise from the the batter. If you have prepared it correctly, the INTP will come out pale and usually ginger. If this is not the desired INTP, go back to Step Two and only add seven ounces of carbonated beverage, which will probably result in a brown-haired INTP. 

Enjoy your INTP, and don’t forget to emotionally arm yourself for the witty comebacks and excessive sarcastic humor that they might go a little too far with. 

anonymous asked:

Could you please write a scenario on Guzma getting his girl an alolan vulpix because she's always wanted one but Mount Lanakila is too rough for her to get one herself? Could you possibly make it sweet and no daddy stuff pretty please.

You were too sick to leave the house. You were not going hunting on a wild goose chase for a damn fox Pokémon when you were sick with an upper respiratory infection. Not if Guzma couldn’t help it.

“But I want one.” You whined, refusing a mouthful of soup. Guzma did not relent and instead tried feeding it to you again.

“You don’t need no stinkin’ Vulpix!” Guzma insisted. “Why do ya even want it for?”

You shrugged, coughing slightly but this time swallowing your soup and managing to take a little more.

“Just want one…” you said. Guzma had already begun fussing around your room, taking a bit of the vapor rub from your nightstand and slathering it all over your chest. He grumbled under his breath a bit, complaining about your stubborn nature and the fact that your room was too cold for you.

“Take your meds and don’ think ‘bout it no more.” He commanded, handing you two little blue pills that you swallowed obediently with water. “You ain’t goin’ anywhere ‘till you get well, and even then I ain’t lettin’ you go up there to fuck around in the cold wearing shorts again.”

“But Guzma…” you whined.

“Go to sleep!”

You obeyed grudgingly, turning over on your side and pulling the covers over your head while your big mean boyfriend closed the door and stomped back into the kitchen with your soup bowl. You thought about how unfair it was that he wouldn’t let you go out and get a pokemon simply because it was cute. He went looking for Wimpod in board shorts all the time, how come you couldn’t go to Mount Lanakila without a jacket? It didn’t make any damn sense, and as you grumbled and moaned about not having a pretty little Vulpix with supple white fur and blue eyes the day passed into night and you eventually fell into a deep sleep.

In the middle of a dream in which Guzma had been it, you felt a hunk of ice press against your cheek accompanied by a small snuffing sound. You shook your head, trying to move it away. It remained persistent, snuffing your cheeks, eyes and the inside of your ear before an equally cold moist thing began lapping on your nose. When you opened your eyes, two blue orbs with splotches of milky white greeted you in the dim light of the lamp, along with a black button nose that looked like a piece of coal. Six tails switched to and fro, and once you were fully awake enough to reach out a hand and pet the silky white fur the little creature began to bark softly.

“Vul!” it cried, licking your forehead with its icy tongue.

“Pretty…” you murmured, a little tear wetting your cheek as Vulpix gave you her fox kisses. Guzma came into view from the side, smiling over you in his pajamas while your new Vulpix barked excitedly.

“Gotcha a new lil’ baby to help ya get better.” He said gently. “When I took her outta the ball she started kissin’ on you ‘cause your forehead’s so hot. Named her Popsicle.”

Popsicle barked again, nuzzling and sniffing you with her cold little nose. She seemed to sense that your sickness was in full stride, and when you coughed and moaned a little bit she whined, sitting next to your head and laying her chin in your hair. She felt like silk left in a freezer for far too long, even her fur had little patches of ice that crackled when she moved.

Guzma leaned over and accepted your grateful kiss. You could do nothing except feel gratitude when you looked at Guzma, then marvel at your new little baby Pokémon while she lay close by trying to help your fever go down.

“Thank you.” You murmured to Guzma when he snuggled into bed next to you and wrapped an arm around your waist. Vulpix kissed you again and again, her little kisses leaving teeny ice patches in your hair.

thought myself imprisoned
the room too warm or over cold
kept from the real weather
shelter is such fluid idea
only children understand
– but memory
once adulthood fills in spaces –
tells a truth you can shape
fragments you thought/forgot
you dreamt: the smell of her
coffee and perfume mingling
the feel of crayons lighting
up the old paper on the floor
the rivers of her wrinkles
when she found you
asleep in the big chair

based on a drawing by Maggie Umber

sometimes the ceiling of my room is the most interesting thing

sometimes my room is too cold or too warm 

sometimes i count sheep just for the fun of it

sometimes the shows on television

are more interesting than my dreams

sometimes i stay up just to greet the first ray of sun

sometimes i stay up just because i can 

night is too interesting to be spent sleeping!
it’s fun! would you try it with me?
—  Night isn’t just meant for the sad, the heartbroken, the insomniacs and the artists, sometimes it belongs to happiness and normalcy too // JustScribbledWords
Hot and Cold

Here you go @prompt-master here is my interpretation of your idea.  

This can apply to anyone tag, just based on something that happened to me. But the sickie doesn’t realize their sick, they just feel like crap and blame it on exhaustion so they decide to take a bath. Because they’re so cold they turn the heat way too high without realizing until towards the end of the bath, when their heart is pounding and they can’t stop sweating.

They get out of bath and find they can’t stand up without nearly blacking out, they have to keep kneeling on their knees and even then the darkness in their vision won’t go away. They have to dress themselves and crawl to their caretaker while trying to stay conscious

I hope you enjoy it.


When Lance woke up, he felt like there was a yupper lying on top of him, he could barely move from the aches and pains that were all over his body.  He knew that he had been going at the training deck more than normal but this was just ridiculous, he needs to get more rest before this exhaustion gets the better of him.

He shivered as he lay there on his bunk, he really needed to find the heating for his room, this was way too cold for him, he was from a quiznacking tropical island and he wasn’t built for the cold weather!  He grumbled to himself for another ten dobash’s trying to get the energy to move when a knock came at his door.  

“Lance?  You in there buddy?” Shiro called, “It’s time for breakfast.”

“I’ll be there in a tick,” Lance called back.  He winced as he swung his legs to the edge of the bed and had to sit still for a tick until his world stopped spinning.  

“Quiznack,” he muttered under his breath, “Come on McClain.  Get your butt in gear.”

Lance figured it would be easier for him to have a quick soak in his bathtub before heading to breakfast.  It wouldn’t be the first time he would be late so he wasn’t too worried about missing any of the food goo that Hunk and Coran always prepared.  

He slowly made his way into his private bathroom, his muscles screaming at him from the practice he had done late the night before, even Keith had gone to bed before Lance.

Ignoring the pounding in his head, he bent down and turned the water on all the way to the hottest setting possible.  A nice long bath would be the perfect way to get rid of these chills and relax his muscles. Mama always told him he should really have a hot bath or shower after exercising otherwise he would get muscle cramps the next day, he was never going to tell her she was right.

Once the water was high enough he turned the taps off and slowly shed his pyjamas and the chills that he had been feeling all morning rose.  He took a deep breath and stepped into the tub, yelping at the heat but knew that it would be cooler once he submerged completely.  He put his other foot in and mentally prepared himself for the sensation of being boiled alive for the next few dobash’s and lowered himself into the water.

As he lay there in the near boiling water he allowed himself to doze, only his head was sitting above the water line and he never let himself drift off too far as to let it drop underwater.  He hummed as he felt his muscles relax slightly, the tension that had been plaguing him all morning finally diminished.

Once the water started to loose it’s heat he noticed that his vision was blurred and his heart was pounding a mile a minute.  Strange, he didn’t think he had been sitting in the water long enough to feel like that but as he put his hand to his head to try and clear his sight he realised he was sweating profusely.

Ok something wasn’t right here, he shouldn’t be feeling like this after a short bath.  Lance figured he would go ask Coran if he had a cold or something and hopefully the older Altean would have something he could take.

He pressed the icon that released the water and waited for it all to disappear before attempting to stand as he didn’t trust himself with his fuzzy vision to not slip in the water and hurt himself.  He took a few calming breaths and braced himself on the edges of the tub and got to his knees, but before he could move to stand his head spun and he started to tip forwards.  Throwing a hand out to catch himself, he managed to halt his decent.

“Ok Lance, just take this one step at a time,” he muttered.  He glanced around the room to see if there was anything he could use to help himself out of the tub but nothing he saw that was within his reach was securely fitted to the walls.

He decided that the only way this was going to work is if he crawled out of the tub, so he lifted one leg over the edge and prayed that he didn’t slip now or his mama could say goodbye to any grandchildren from Lance.  

He held his breath as he shifted his weight and lifted his other leg and only released the breath when he had both legs back firmly on the freezing bathroom floor.  As he went to move he felt as if the room shifted and decided that he should probably lay down for a moment to allow this feeling of vertigo pass.  He closed his eyes as he lay there on his bathroom floor, completely starkers, and knew that if anyone came looking for him since he was most certainly late to breakfast now that they would be in for a view of Lance that not even his mama had seen in a long time.

He allowed himself to lay there, taking deep breaths as he tried to think of what had caused all this but his addled brain couldn’t come up with anything except that he wasn’t feeling well.  He could feel the vertigo passing and knew that if he didn’t move soon, it could return before he was at least clothed.  

He decided that until he could pull himself up on something solid he would have to crawl to his dresser. His arms were shaking from the chills that still racked his body and he grumbled to himself that if he didn’t get a six pack from all the work his stomach muscles were doing right now he wanted a refund.

He reached his dresser and pulled out some boxers, pants and shirt but decided that trying to put anything else on would be too much of a hassle, not matter how cold he was.

Once he was dressed, he slowly made his way down the hallway to the kitchen where the others were all eating.  He held onto the wall, his entire being threatening to topple over at any moment and he really didn’t want to crawl all the way to the others.  Keith would never let him live it down.

He took forever to walk what would normally have only taken a few dobash’s and he cringed at every step, his head pounding and vision swimming.  He looked up to see how far he had to go and almost cried out in relief as he saw the kitchen’s door right in front of him.  Now he just had to cross the hallway without falling over and he would be ok.

He braced his back against the wall and after a few breaths pushed himself off with as much force as he could, counting on the momentum to carry him the couple of steps to the opposite wall.  He hit it with a thud and his head and shoulder hit the solid metal wall with surprising strength considering how ill he felt.  All that training must be finally paying off.

He shook his head out of habit only to groan as the motion made everything worse.  He only had three steps to go and dragged himself along the wall and hit the pad that lit up to allow the loud chatter of his teammates enjoying their breakfast.

“What took you so long?” Pidge asked from where she sat curled up on the bench eating her bowl of food goo, not even bothering to glance in Lance’s direction.

“Lance?” Keith asked as he looked up from where he was sitting at the table, “You ok?”

“I don’t feel too good,” Lance managed to say before his entire world spun and the floor rose to meet him.


“He has a high temperature.” The voice was distorted but Lance recognised it as Shiro’s, the black paladin seemed worried, which mind you wasn’t out of the ordinary in Lance’s humble opinion, but something in his tone seemed off.

“What can we do to bring it down?” Since when did Pidge not know what to do?  Lance made a mental note to tease her about this later.

“No, a hot bath when he has a fever like this will only make it worse.  We need to bring his temp down slowly otherwise it will put his body into shock.”  That was Hunk, good old Hunk, Lance smiled, his buddy would know what was wrong with whoever was sick.

Come to think of it, where was Lance?  He frowned, he remembered waking up and Shiro calling out to him, taking a bath, collapsing on the floor and somehow making his way to the kitchen but everything after that is a blur.  He tried to look around him but all he could see was black, he realised that his eyes were closed, he just had to open them and he would be able to see where he was. Wherever he was, it was cold, so quiznacking cold.

Lance made a whining noise as he managed to crack open his eyes, only to shut them again as the brightness in the room blinded him instantly.  

“Lance?” Shiro’s voice came through slightly less distorted than before but still not as clear as Lance had remembered it.

“Shiro?  What?” he managed to whisper before he was racked with a full body shiver, “Cold.”

“I know buddy,” Shiro said softly, “We are trying to get your temperature under control.  So bear with us ok?”

Lance could feel someone’s hand touching his forehead and leant into it, “Warm.”

“Lance?” This time it was Coran’s voice, “How long have you been like this?”

Lance frowned, how long had it been?  “Since, Shiro woke me up this morning?” he said still unsure.  He could hear the others talking amongst themselves but couldn’t make out any of the words.  He decided that whatever they were talking about wasn’t to do with him, his entire body was screaming at him to sleep.  If he slept then he would be better right?  “Tired,” he mumbled as he tried to move to get more comfortable on whatever he was laying on.

“Rest now,” Hunk said as Lance felt his calming presence move up near his head, “We will get you back into prime Lance form again in no time, ok?”

Lance didn’t even have the energy left to answer his best friend but he trusted Hunk would know he was grateful.  He just let the blackness take him again as he fell into its warm embrace.  He was safe in his friends hands, they were his family after all.

“I’m not going to put myself in a situation I know I’ll be uncomfortable and stressed in,” shouldn’t warrant being told to just “give it a chance,” after months of “"giving it a chance,”“ and shouldn’t warrant being forced to do something that will make you unhappy, and after you don’t give in it still shouldn’t warrant the silent treatment and anger.

Handling a situation with maturity and calmness should not result in hostility from the other person.

You should always have the right to refuse going into a situation.

Prompts 1

A/N: I found this on tumblr and I’ve seen a lot of other users use stuff like this, so I decided to give it a shot! 

All you have to do is send in a character and a number please!

1. “Come over here and make me.”
2. “Have you lost your damn mind!?”
3. “Please, don’t leave.”
4. “Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?”
5. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”
6. “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”
7. “I almost lost you.”
8. “Wanna bet?”
9. “Don’t you ever do that again!”
10. “Teach me how to play?”
11. “Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!”
12. “I think we need to talk.”
13. “Kiss me.”
14. “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”
15. “So, I found this waterfall…”
16. “It could be worse.”
17. “Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…”
18. “This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”
19. “The paint’s supposed to go where?”
20. “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”
21. “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?”
22. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”
23. “Just once.”
24. “You’re the only one I trust to do this.”
25. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”
26. “I got you a present.”
27. “I’m pregnant.”
28. “Marry me?”
29. “I thought you were dead.”
30. “It’s not what it looks like…”
31. “You lied to me.”
32. “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”
33. “Please don’t do this.”
34. “If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed.”
35. “You heard me. Take. It. Off.”
36. “I wish I could hate you.”
37. “Wanna dance?”
38. “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”
39. “Hey! I was gonna eat that!”
40. “Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”
41. “You did all of this for me?”
42. “I swear it was an accident.”
43. “YOU DID WHAT?!”
44. “If you die, I’m gonna kill you.”
45. “Tell me a secret.”
46. “Hey, have you seen the..? Oh.”
47. “No one needs to know.”
48. “Boo.”
49. “Well this is awkward…”
50. Writer’s preference

  51) “Seriously, now you want to talk?”

  52) “I- I don’t know what to say to that.”

  53) “Well, this motel room is too cold.”

  54) “The water pressure is horrible, see?”

  55) “I don’t understand you.”

  56) “Put my hand where?”

  57) “Hey, I’m going to- oh..”

  58) “Whoa! Buy me dinner first.”

  59) “Watch your hands.”

  60) “100 friggin dollars for a Christmas tree?”

  61) “We need more water balloons.”

  62) “We don’t have enough.”

  63) “You’re reading what?”

  64) “What the Hell is that?”

  65) “It’s so big!”

  66) “Truth or dare?”

  67) “What kind of game is this?”

  68) “No, I’m not a friggin virgin!”

  69) “Do I look like his brother?”

70) “No, actually we’re married.”

  71) “Make out with me.”

  72) “Did you really like it? Like honestly?”

  73) “Ow!! That’s not my arm!!”

  74) “Get you hand off of my……”

  75) “You ate them? I was saving them!”

  76) “Did you bring it?”

  77) “Are you sure? We don’t have to.”

  78) “In the car??”

  79) “A dog?”

  80) “Owwww!!!!”

  81) “Put your hand around my hip.”

  82) “Don’t be shy.”

 83) “Yes, a date.”

  84) “I’m pregnant.”

  85) “Marry me?”

  86) “Cancer?”

  87) “My ass?”

  88) “Seriously, let’s play a game of (spin the bottle, truth . or dare, twister, or whatever game you want.. you pick)”

  89) “Just take it off.”

  90) “Just wrap it around my waist.”

  91) “That’s my (body part)”

  92) “A pink what?”

  93) “How many times have you seen me naked? And now . you’re shy?”

94.      “If you walk out right now, it’s over for us.”

95.      “I need you to forgive me.”

96.      “I love you for you, don’t you dare think otherwise!”

97.      “Come on, let’s throw the dice, see what happens.”

98.      “Is… is that even possible? Like, can we do this?”

99.      “I just need you to do this one thing for me.”

100.      “Go on, tell me. Tell me you don’t love me.”

101.      “Stop! Please, don’t! Take me instead!”

102.      “You should know that the side effects, well, they’re pretty intense.”

103.  “Before I do this, I need you to know that I have always loved you.”

104.  “What were you thinking?? Were you trying to get me killed?”

105.  “Let’s face it- we’re cursed.”

106.  “How about we put the gun down and let’s talk about this?”

107.  “Why is it we’re always the unlucky ones?”

108.  “You can’t leave me in the dark. You have to tell me these things.”

109.  “Just pick a damn name, okay?”

110.  “I don’t care what she said, it doesn’t mean jack squat.”

111.  “This relationship used to be all about communication! What ever happened to that?”

112.  “You walked away. Not me.”

113.  “So because he said you should, you thought it would be okay to follow through with it?”

114.  “Don’t force my hand, you won’t like what happens.”

115.  “We’ll finish it the same way we started it…together.”

116.  “If you walk out that door, you’re no longer one of us. You’ll be one of them and that means I’ll treat you like one of them.”

117.  “Game’s over you son of a bitch! Tell me where (s)he is!”

118.   “Hold my hand dammit, we gotta make this look convincing!”

119.   “Now you said you’d be here. Where are you?”

120.   “We were supposed to be family.”

121.   “How dare you.”

122.   “You have no idea what I’ve done for you.”

123.   “You need to leave. Right now.”

124.   “Stop taking pictures! I’m fucking stuck. Be useful and help me!!”

125.   “Delete that immediately.”

126.   “But the carnival is right down the street! Can we please, please go!?”

127.   “Stop eating all these burritos. I’ll have to pay the consequences later on tonight!”

128.   “It was him! He stepped on my foot.”

129.   “Sorry, I thought I was alone..”

130.   “Shopping? Do I have to go?”

131.   “Is it supposed to look like that? Are you sure?”

132.   “I swear it was like that when I found it!”

133.   “Crocs? Who hurt you so much in this life?”

134.   “Separate them right now or so help me God, I will kill you!”

135.   “So there was an accident..”

136.   “Give me 5 bucks, I’ll explain later.”

137.   “Twins? We’re…we’re having twins?!”

138.   “BOOM! That oughta how you not to mess with me!”

139.   “Blood. Blood everywhere.”


141.   “Asking for a friend.. Do you know how to get a foot out of the toilet?”

142.   “She was crying, right there in the middle of the grocery store.”

143.   “It spilled everywhere. And guess who had to clean it up. That’s right. ME!”

144.   “What do you mean you’re sold out?”

145.   “I’m addicted and I admit that I need help.”

146.   “So? It’s not your problem so butt out.”

147.   “My mom thinks you like me. Tell her she’s wrong.”

148.   “I’m laughing because you’re angry. I swear I didn’t do it!”

149.   “I want to come home.”

150.   “This is… this is somewhere I never imagined I’d be.”

151.   “I left everything for this, I left it all…for you!”

152.   “Please don’t leave me.”

153.   “You didn’t tell me it was karaoke night..”

Disclaimer: I did not make any of these someone else did

Prompt from here!

Summary: Keith gets stranded in an unknown city on a cold day with no way to get home. He calls Lance to come pick him up, not knowing that Lance is already sick and should be resting instead.

Last bus: 10:45PM

Next bus: 6:15AM

Keith stares at the sign. His shoulders sag, his breath leaving him in a cloud of white.

He’s doomed. He’s stuck in a city miles away from his own house, and he’s just missed the last bus of the night.

Shivering, he brushes the snow off of a bench and sets his bags down on top of it. His fingers feel like they’re turning to ice, so he shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, trying to keep his body from shaking too badly.

This is all his fault. He’d been the one who had been insistent on coming all the way here. He’d taken a bus after lunch, travelling miles and miles from home just to reach this obscure city–it was the only one that happened to have motorbike parts he needed, and he’d planned his trip so he could navigate using his phone and get back before it got dark.

As it turned out, he’d ended up getting miserably lost in the city, and his phone had died on him due to the cold weather. After spending hours wandering around, he’d finally found his way back to a train station on the other side of the town.

And the last bus left half an hour ago. Just his luck.

He doesn’t know anything about this city, doesn’t have anywhere to stay for the night. It’s too far to walk back, and it’s too cold to sleep out here.

He glances up. The snow slants as it falls from the gaping sky, snowflakes turning gold in the sparse light of nearby streetlights. Shivering, he pulls his jacket closer around him, the spare change in his pocket rattling from the movement.

Change. There’s a payphone across the street.

Keith hates bothering people, especially when it’s this late at night. There are not that many people that he trusts enough to bother in the first place, and most of them are unavailable. Hunk is out of town, Shiro and Allura live too far away, Pidge doesn’t have her own car yet. But maybe if he asks nicely enough, he can convince Lance to drive him back.

He picks up his bags, wincing as his fingertips brush against the frigid bench railings, and starts off to cross the street. This is a bad idea, he’s sure, but he’s tired and cold and he can think of nothing better.

He just really, really wants to be home.

Keep reading


Pairing: George x Reader


  • CAN YOU DO ONE WHERE YN IS FROM AUSTRALIA!! Thank you i love your writing!
  • Hey there, I really like your writing and i only just followed you today so sorry for my spamming! do you have any Imagines where Y/N is Australian? ❤️️
  • Omg you’re Australian too?? Can you write something where the reader is from Australian, maybe Queensland or something??
  • hey, can i please have one where y/n is from Australia and with George and really fluffy please? sorry it isn’t very specific, i just need Australian y/n ahaha
  • George fluff is all I need in life can you please write a George fluff!

A/N: so I found all my notes… Turns out the problem was that I logged out of iCloud… I’m an idiot. ANYWAY, I’ve gotten a few requests for an Australian reader as well as a lot of Hufflepuff readers, so here is both! P.S. You’d think that this would clear up a lot of my asks, nope I still have exactly 100 requests

Squicks: None

It was February, meaning that back home it would be scorching hot, the sun would be blazing down and everyone would be in desperate need of cooling off. Here at Hogwarts however, the grounds were blanketed with snow and with more and more coming down, you swear you even saw the Whomping Willow shiver. You were from Australia, meaning that you in particular were more sensitive to the harsh cold that Scotland brought around this time of year.

You were in the Gryffindor common room with your friend George Weasley. It was 9pm meaning that most of Gryffindor were coming in and out of their common room, Fred and Lee doing god knows what and god knows where. The Gryffindors didn’t mind when you would come into their common room, knowing how close you were to the Weasley twins.

You and George both sat on the floor with your backs leant against the couch, your homework sprawled out messily on the small table in front of the fire. You and George had been trying to finish off your Charms work, and have been here for almost two hours.

You had written one and a half paragraphs.

George had written seven words.

It’s not that the work was hard, it was just that you two would somehow manage to goof off at any random time, making the other one laugh and lose concentration too. That, and you were freezing your arse off.

“I think that even if I jumped into that fire I still wouldn’t be warm enough,” you complain, looking into the fire with your arms crossed.

George let out a chuckle, “You can’t seriously be that cold”.

You shot a glare at George, your bottom lip shivering along with the rest of your body as you tried to pull yourself into the tightest ball you could form.

“…Shit, okay, maybe you are that cold,” George said with another laugh, but was also kinda worried.

“I am, I’m absolutely freezing, Georgie,” you say sadly, making a move to gather your belongings, “I think I might head back to my common room, it’s just way too cold,”

“Don’t be silly Y/n, I’ll give you a jumper,” George says getting up before you can protest, “come up and I’ll let you pick one out, God knows Mum’s knitted me enough of the things…”

You giggle, standing up with George and follow him towards his dorm. Truth is, you didn’t really want to leave him anyway.

You followed George up the winding staircase, your arms still wrapped tightly around your body, feeling colder and colder with each step you took away from the fire.

“Here it is, the Gryffindor men’s sleeping quarters,” George announces, arms stretched out, showing off the messy room.

You slowly twirl around in a small circle taking in everything in the room. There was Gryffindor merch stuck to every wall and hanging off every bedpost, practically all of the beds were messy, and you were almost certain that you could tell whose bed was whose just by looking at the types of things spread across them.

“Take your pick,” George says as he dumps a load of jumpers from his arms onto his bed, catching your attention.

“I like this one, it’s got a big G on it, G for Ginny I suppose,” you say, looking up at George who was mid-eye roll. You giggled and slipped the knitted jumper over your head, the jumper reaching half way down your thighs and the sleeves about five inches too long, “it’s a perfect fit!” you say happily, causing George to let out a laugh.

“Now Y/n I will warn you, this lovely one-of-a-kind jumper does come at a cost,”

You let out an overdramatised gasp, “I knew there was a catch!”

George took a step closer towards you, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m afraid so, because as you see I don’t have a great deal of jumpers, I can’t just give them away to every pretty girl I see,”

You look over at the pile of about ten jumpers still on his bed, “There must be a lot of pretty girls at Hogwarts then,” you say with a smile.

“Ehhh, there’s one pretty girl in particular, and unfortunately she hasn’t paid the price for this fine sweater I’ve just given her,” he says with a smirk, taking another step closer.

“Alright then Georgie, how much will this sweater be costing me?”


“One?” you ask with confusion, “one what?”

“One kiss,” George said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Whilst you were in complete shock, you pretended to be totally nonchalant to the whole situation. You folded your arms and looked up as if contemplating your decision.

“I guess it is a warm jumper…” you start,

“Oh yes, quite possibly the warmest jumper on the planet I daresay,” George encourages, taking a final step towards you and placing his hands on your hips,

“And the Hufflepuff common room is terribly cold…” you add,

“I can imagine it is, yes, what better way to keep warm than with an oversized sweater?” George says, playing with the hem of the jumper as you slide your hands around the back of his neck,

“I think you might have yourself a deal, Mr. Weasley,” you whisper, your face inches away from his,

“Perfect,” he whispers back before gently pulling you towards him and connecting your lips. You kissed back instantly, your hands playing in his hair as well as one of his holding the back of your head, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

Your kiss was passionate and quite honestly perfect. Your lips moved in sync with each other and your bodies were pressed together.

After a while the two of you pulled back, marking the first time you had ever seen George Weasley actually blushing.

“One kiss for a jumper is very cheap I would’ve thought,” you say with a smile, pressing your forehead against his, “I’m happy to make another payment,” 

“There’s no way I’d object to that,” he says, before the two of you started kissing once more.

Low Battery

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x reader

Summary: Set a couple of months after Sherlock comes back, purely because I had a few lame comebacks I had to get off my chest. Anyway, you’re out shopping and your phone dies, and Sherlock panics.

Warnings: Reichenbach feels? Idk, it only mentions the Fall a few times. So unless you’re John Watson, it shouldn’t make you cry.

Originally posted by sherlockedduh

(Not my gif)

You let out a frustrated groan as your phone screen faded to black, not responding when you held down the home button in a half-hearted attempt to switch it back on. Typical.
Shoving the useless device in your coat pocket, you squinted down the road in the hopes of seeing an approaching cab. The rain was pouring down in icy sheets, and you’d been soaked to the skin after just minutes of standing under the bus shelter. This day was not going well for you. First your bus had been cancelled, then your phone died, there were no taxis around, and to top it all off, it just had to rain. Like you said before, typical.

Sherlock let out a shaky breath as he pressed “redial” for what must have been the thirtieth time in the last few minutes. He let out a frustrated, and somewhat worried, groan as your voicemail message sounded again.
“Hi it’s (Y/N)! Sorry I can’t take your call right now, as Sherlock is probably using my phone for an experiment again-“
Sherlock dropped his phone carelessly onto the table, sitting down briefly in his chair before bouncing to his feet and striding to the window to peer anxiously out onto the street. His heart leapt every time a cab approached, and sunk every time it continued past the flat without anyone getting out. He continued this routine for nearly half an hour before something snapped within him.
“Lestrade, I need you out looking for (Y/N). She could be in danger.” He didn’t wait for the D.I to respond before hanging up the phone and dropping it again.

A relieved sigh escaped your lips as a cab pulled up in front of you. Climbing into the back and giving the driver the address, you stretched your legs out in front of you tiredly. You had learned your lesson; never ask Sherlock Holmes if he needs anything from the shops. Most people, normal people, would ask you to pick up a bottle of milk and some bread, but not Sherlock. Oh no. You weren’t sure if your arms would ever get back the strength to pick up a pillow again, let alone the dozen hardback books he’d asked you to get.
The rain was even heavier when you got out the cab at Baker Street, but that didn’t prevent you seeing the flashing red and blue lights adorning the police car parked out 221B. Worry crept into your mind as you climbed the stairs as fast as you could while carrying a dozen books, horrible scenarios presenting themselves as to why the police were at the flat.
“John? Sherlock?” you called, leaving the books in a heap and climbing the inner stairs two at a time.
The pale worried face of the detective appeared on the top landing as he followed the sound of your voice. A loud sigh of relief made his chest heave as he wrapped his arms around you tightly, pulling you impossibly close to him, your cry of surprise muffled by the way your face was buried in his chest.
“Never do that to me again,” he whispered, holding you at arm’s length and inspecting your face for any signs of injury. You frowned, growing even more confused as Lestrade appeared in the doorway beside John.
“What? Why’s Greg here?” you asked. Sherlock tilted his head to the side in confusion, and you sighed tiredly. “Lestrade,” you corrected.
“Oh. You were missing, so naturally I called him.”
You raised your eyebrows, entering the living room to find half a dozen more police officers sitting around. “And half of Scotland Yard as well, by the look of it,” you observed.
“Well, we’ll be off then, I suppose,” Lestrade mumbled, the officers following him out the flat, leaving just you, John and Sherlock.
“Why did you think I was missing?” you asked, peeling off your dripping wet coat with difficulty. You sighed, seeing that your jumper was soaked as well, clinging to your freezing skin just like your jeans were.
“You weren’t answering your phone. Anything could have happened to you,” said Sherlock, as if that explained everything. You raised your eyebrows, laughing humourlessly as you went through to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, leaving the two men in the living room.
“You didn’t answer your phone for two years, Sherlock, and yet here you are,” you pointed out. Even from the neighbouring room, you still heard Sherlock’s sigh and John’s words.
“You probably deserved that one.”
Sherlock knew you wouldn’t handle him reappearing in your life well, but it had been two months now, wasn’t that enough? How long did it take someone to move on?
“And anyway, my battery was dead. But don’t worry, it’ll come back to life,” you said, plopping yourself down on the sofa with a cup of tea cradled in your hands. “Apparently anything can, these days,” you added. John chuckled.
“Before you ask, you deserved that one as well,” he informed the detective. “Well, as long as you’re alright, (Y/N), I’ll be off.”
You smiled slightly at him. “I’m fine, thanks.”
Sherlock sat down in his chair across from you, his clear blue eyes never leaving yours. You sighed, placing your cup down on a coaster and raising your eyebrows at him expectantly. “What?”
“When are you going to move on and accept that I’m back?” he asked. There wasn’t an angry note in his voice, the question was genuine. All he wanted was to go back to life as it used to be, where you made snide remarks in his defence, and never to him.
“I don’t know,” you replied eventually. “It took two years to accept that you were dead, so who knows how long this’ll take?”
Sherlock nodded slowly, standing up and holding his hand out to you. “C’mon. You need to get changed, you’re going to get sick.”
Reluctantly, you put your hand in his and followed him into the bedroom you used to share with him. You didn’t even question the fact that some of your clothes were still in your old bedside table; you’d left them there yourself, not being able to bring yourself to move them out of the room after…it happened.
After Sherlock had turned his back and assured you twice that his eyes were indeed closed, you changed quickly into a pair of black leggings and a baggy jumper you were pretty sure you’d stolen from John. Oh well, with the weight he was putting on in his new life, it probably wouldn’t fit him anymore anyway.
“Well, goodnight Sherlock,” you said awkwardly, moving to leave the room. The detective turned, shaking his head.
“No, you should stay here tonight. You’re still very cold, and the heater doesn’t work in your room,” he said. You frowned; how did he know your heater wasn’t-
“You’ve been stealing John’s jumpers to wear to bed,” he added. “There are two possible explanations. One, that you are secretly in love with our old flatmate and feel the need to wear his clothes for a sense of connection to him. Two, which is more likely, your room is too cold.”
You smiled slightly despite yourself. “Army doctors aren’t really my type,” you joked. “Their jumpers, however, are.”
Sherlock chuckled. “And do you still have a thing for socially excluded detectives?”
Taking a step towards him, you squeezed his hand in yours gently.
“Only the curly haired ones.”

A/N: Hi, me again! I just realised something that I didn’t even write on purpose. “Army doctors aren’t my type. Their jumpers, however, are.” SHERLOCK IS AN ARMY DOCTOR’S JUMPER!!! Someone be proud of me.

anonymous asked:

What are the things you don't like about your own type?

ISTJ callout post

- being proud of our efficiency but actually being inefficient as fuck: doing the same outdated work processes over and over in hyper speed is not efficient. I don’t care Susan if you would win a speed contest in using a fax machine, sending it per e-mail is still better and maybe you should learn how to use a computer for once

- speaking of which, I hate that this stereotype is true but boy are we resistant to change.
Go to any ISTJ and tell them that something needs to be changed: you can see their whole body clenching up, their eyes now targeting you as if you are the enemy

- honestly, I don’t know where the idea comes from that ISTJs can be easily manipulated. Have you ever tried working with one? ISTJs are stubborn bastards. Sweet talk doesn’t help at all. If they don’t like something, you can’t convince them otherwise and nothing moves. Tert-Fi-“I’m always right” combined with Si-dom patience enables them to always have the greatest persistence. They don’t even do anything, they don’t argue, they just sit there like the immovable object that they are, waiting until everyone else is too bored and gives up.

- just tert Fi in general

- especially male ISTJs usually have a super boring/ugly fashion sense that makes my 3-fix eyes bleed. (The only type who is worse in that regards is INTP.) even the ones that think they know something of fashion play it safe (black, white, grey and navy) and are too afraid to try something more unique

- the more comfortable we are in a social setting, the more whiny and demanding we get: “the room is too cold”, “i don’t like mushrooms in my meal I have told you before”, “the present you got me is awful, I’d rather have a giftcard instead”

- the complete inability to flirt. I don’t know how many chances I ruined because I just didn’t realize someone was hitting on me. When someone says “hey you look nice, want to meet up for some coffee”, my stupid ISTJ-brain thinks “huh, why coffee? I don’t like coffee.” and any romance is dead immediately.
I’m convinced the only reason ISTJs haven’t died out yet is because other types just dragged them to an altar and because “being reliable” is still high on many people’s “dream partner traits” lists. (We are dumb but at least we have “being reliable” going for us, so hurray?)

- being happy with mediocre lives. Damn that is frustrating to see from the outside. You can have the most amazing, intelligent, competent, decent-people-skills-having ISTJ but they still don’t want to make any career. And when you talk to them and suggest “hey there is this great opportunity you just need to apply for it they would love to take you” they will be like “ugh, no thx, I have actually thought about working only half-time”. Why?? Why don’t you crave more? Why don’t you have any passion except for your weird-ass hobbies??

I'm Sorry

Characters: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Angst jungus forgive me i swear im not usually like this

Word Count: 1,472

Yoongi and you were next door neighbors in your run-down apartment building, and the wall between your bedrooms was a lot thinner than expected. Thin enough for him to hear you crying in your bed one day. But would his stubborn, shy and antisocial personality stop him from doing something about it?

Originally posted by imakawaiiwhore

    Stupid people and their stupid expectations. You slammed the door to your small, rundown apartment, making sure to turn and lock the door with angered force. Your eyes welled up with the beginning of a flood of tears. You had worked your ass off to get into the school you were at, spent hours studying every night and yet your grades were below average. What’s worse is that there was absolutely no one you could confide in, seeing as you had moved miles away from your hometown to be here. The other students at school already had you labelled as a loser, and they never failed to show it either. You heaved a breath, at least somewhat relieved that the day had finished and you could go to your bed now. Sluggishly, you made your way through the small place to your bedroom, flopping face-first onto your bed. The room was too cold, like always. You thought you would be used to this by now, would be able to handle the solitude that came with moving to another town to attend the school. But the loneliness that came hand in hand with solitude ended up being much harder to deal with than you could have imagined.

    Rolling onto your back, you stretched your arms out beside you. The ceiling fan spun, a subtle breeze drifting through the room and you watched the blades of the fan turn around. Thinking back, you guessed you weren’t completely alone. Somehow you had managed to have a few conversations with your next door neighbor in the recent past. You were pretty sure that he went to the same school as you, although you had never seen him on campus before. The two of you had exchanged a few hellos once in awhile, and you could tell he wasn’t much of a people person. He was timid, usually listening to music so he could avoid unwanted interactions. But you knew that he was actually a nice guy. On the first day you met, he had shyly smiled at you and said his name was Min Yoongi. Ever since then, you had to admit you had a thing for him, always waiting outside the apartment building to watch him come out of the building and head to the bus stop each morning. Maybe it was creepy, but you were desperate for someone, anyone. You welcomed his presence with open arms. In the chance moments when you’d be caught with him alone in the elevator, you always had a reassuring feeling. Unfortunately, you were always too shy to say anything to him except for the occasional hello, and a few small conversations. The conversations gradually grew longer as time passed and you two even had a few inside jokes with each other now. Your fondness for him grew fast before you even realized it.

    But besides Yoongi, who you only saw very briefly every day, you were completely alone. The extent of your loneliness hit you at that moment, making you curl up on the bed, a heavy weight starting to grow in your chest. Loneliness- it was the worst feeling in the world. It gnawed at you until you felt empty, and all you wanted to do was disappear. The students at school were no help, their faces flashing in your mind. A girl with braids whispering to her friend while eyeing you from the corner of her eye. Seconds later, they both erupted in giggles as you walked away from them. Tears started to run down your cheeks as you brought your hands up to cover your face. It’s unfair, you thought. You pressed your face into the pillow on your bed, trying to muffle the sobs that started escaping from your chest. What do they all have that I don’t? You screamed inside your head. All you wished for was someone to be there with you in that moment. Someone to hold you and tell you it was okay. But there was no one. No one was there for you.

    Yoongi strode into his apartment, the low bass of his music booming into his ears from his headphones. Closing the door behind him, he laid his head back against the hard door and closed his eyes. He had missed you again. Knowing full well what kind of image it would give him if anyone found out, he usually waited for you to get home each day just so he could watch you walk into the apartment building. Sometimes he would follow you through the door a few steps behind, making it seem like a coincidence when he snuck through the elevator doors so he could ride up with you. Although most of the time he ended up regretting it, standing there awkwardly in the tense atmosphere that lined the air; the two of you in a confined space together for the short time it took to climb the levels of the building. He wasn’t a creep, he was just bad at coming out of his shell around people he didn’t know that well. Your shy demeanor endeared him, and even though he didn’t talk to you all that much, you were one of the few people that he didn’t mind being around.

    He opened his eyes, gazing at the floor as he made his way to his room. It had been a long day. Sighing, he grabbed the handle to his door and swiftly swung it open. His thoughts wandered to you. What were you doing at this exact moment? Not thinking about him, that was for sure. He knew it was silly, thinking that you would even have a fleeting thought about the boy next door. He shook his head, shaking away his thoughts. Maybe it was simply better to maintain his distance. Sighing, he walked over to the edge of his bed and sat down, moving to take off his headphones. Lowering his hands, they suddenly froze in midair. Muffled cries reverberated from the wall that his bed stood against. Lifting his head in the direction of the sound, his eyebrows knitted together as he listened. He knew the walls between your apartment and his own were thin, so was it you that he heard crying?

    The headphones dropped from his hands as he slowly rose from his position on the bed. As quietly as he could, he crept over to the wall, leaning his head against it as he heard your sobs continue. Each fleeting sound struck a chord in his chest, and he audibly swallowed, lifting his eyes to stare dumbly at the wall. What could he do? Go over there? He clenched his fists. Stupid. There was no way he was going over to knock on your door only to be yelled at to go away. Or worse yet, completely ignored. Lifting a hand, he gently placed it against the wall in the area he assumed you were closest to. His hand flattened against the cool plaster, clenching slightly every time another sob echoed through the wall. Soon most of his body had leaned up against the surface, yearning to help you. But he knew he couldn’t. You were so close, yet untouchable.

    Yoongi, is all you could think. You had heard his door open, you knew he was home now. Still, your crying continued, unable to be stopped. All of the feelings that had built themselves up within you in the past few weeks were finally all spilling out at once, and it was unbearable. You hugged your pillow, your crying still sounding through your cold, empty room. Maybe another reason why your crying was so prolonged was because a part of you, a very small, ridiculous part of you hoped that Yoongi would hear you. Hoped that he would come and pound on your door, begging you to open up so he could figure out what’s wrong. And the idea of how ridiculous that sounded and how unrealistic it was only weighed into you more. It only caused the sobs to leave your body harder, making you crush the pillow against your face.

    Yoongi’s heart felt like it was going to burst into flames. The crying from your room just wouldn’t stop. Three times he was about to say fuck it, and get up to knock on your door. But the thought scared him. He was scared of what you would do, certain that you would resent him for getting involved, for caring. His hand balled into a fist against the wall, scrunching his eyes shut so hard that they hurt. Jesus, what was he supposed to do? A silent, stray tear made its way down his cheek as he took a deep breath and leaned his forehead against the wall. He exhaled with a single breath as he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

House of Cards in the Wind

TITLE: House of Cards in the Wind


AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you were a powerful villain who was captured by S.H.I.E.L.D. and put in Cryogenic storage because there was no other way to deal with you. After doing some research, Loki learned about you and became obsessed. So much, that he looked for you and woke you up, knowing that you’d seek revenge and he would be more than willing to help.

RATING: Teen and Up

NOTES/WARNINGS: This story is the result of an imagine I saw on another blog theartofimagining13. The credit for the imagine goes to the author on that page. 

Warning death of minor characters and violence in this fic


His footfalls were rapid and without falter, as he made his way through the rows of what could only be described as chambers, each one eight foot tall, three foot wide and occupied. His breath would have been puffs of smoke in the air if he too was not as cool as the room he was in. To any other, the Cryogenic room would have been too cold to bear without adequate insulated clothing, but to Loki, it was as though it a spring day, he knew it was cold, he was no fool, there was ice everywhere, but he did not feel it. He paid little heed to the numbers and letters that donned the top of each chamber until finally, he came to the one he had read about, Subject 142RC-87F He looked at the ice-filled chamber and his brows raised. “You are younger than I expected, but that has its advantages.” He stated as he waved a hand and the icy air filtering into the machine ceased. “I doubt you will be too keen to defrost here,” he looked around for another moment. “I hope you do not get teleportation sick.” He grinned before touching the icy machine and teleporting it away.

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