sitting on the wall

I’m Sorry -- G.D.

warnings- smUTTTT

A/N I literally wrote this in church help

Grayson Bailey Dolan has been my mortal enemy since second grade. With his constant prodding and poking at my feelings and destroying every ounce of confidence i had (though it was small) he’s had complete control of me. So as i sit here, letting him hold me against the wall by my shirt, i can only give in. “Look. I’ve told you before. Leave me and my friends alone.” “Grayson, I was literally just walking past you guys. I didn’t even say anything, you were the one who talked to me, so i talked back.” “I don’t care. Find another way around.” He spits, eyeing my face up and down. He let’s go of the tee shirt in his hand, making me fall to the floor. The entire cafeteria at this point was staring at us; some laughing. “Gray, you wouldn’t hit a girl!” One of his buddies yelled, cackling. “Don’t speak so soon.” He muttered under his breath, just enough for me to hear as he turned away, walking back to his table. I don’t quite understand why he hates me so much. Ever since we were little he’d call me tree for being tall and make fun of my acne. i just grew a little faster than most kids, that’s all. Once we reached high school, he outgrew me by a few inches, and i got rid of my acne- so he didn’t really have many things to call me anymore. But that didn’t stop him from being a dick. So I do the unspeakable, and I waltz myself right over to his table, and stand in front of him. He looks up to me with a smirk and his friends emit a chorus of “ooh”’s, and before i could lose the confidence i have, before i can second guess myself, i punch him, square in the nose. Right in his perfect little face, where it hurts the most. “Fuck!” He yells, the whole cafeteria shocked and gasping. “What the HELL is wrong with you?” He seethes, holding his nose. He pulls his hand away to reveal red running down his hand.


 The principal’s office is never a fun visit. The smell of paper in the air is enough to make a person sick, and the fact i’m sitting next to Grayson makes everything even worse. “So, why did you punch Grayson in the face?” He turns to me and asks. “Cause she’s a-” Grayson cuts in.

“I asked her, Dolan.” He interjects, serving a disapproving look to Grayson. 

“He was being a dick.” I reply bluntly. Frankly I don’t care anymore; he’s been mean to me for a long time. 

I tell Principal Cole everything, every bit of what has been said and done since we were little. 

“Here’s what I’m gonna do,” He sighs. “I’m gonna put you two in a room together for 6 hours, and you are going to discuss how you both are feeling.” 

I get scared, worried he may hurt me back for punching him in the face while we’re in that room. What kind of punishment is this?

“Can’t you just give us detention and call it a day?” I ask rising from my seat a little. 

I look over to Grayson’s face, and he looks timid, but red all over.

“No. We did this once about 5 years ago and it worked wonders. They ended up being best friends.” He says with a prideful look on his face, clasping his hands together across his paper scattered desk. 

“What if we don’t do it?” Grayson pipes up, gravel in his voice. 

“You’re suspended.” 


We walk into our french classroom and everything is the same except for our hunched backs and no students or teachers.

We turn to look at the Principal and the counselor behind us, holding the door open.

“If you need anything, ring the office bell. Good luck, kiddos.” He says with a weak smile and closes the door, leaving two stunned teenagers. 

“He even took our phones.” He says, kicking the desk next to him. 

“Why did our parents agree to this?” I ask, looking at the ground, dreading the day to come.

“Well maybe if your dumbass didn’t punch me in the face we wouldn’t be here.” He grits, his voice extremely intimidating.

“Maybe if you hadn’t been such a douchebag to me ever since you’d known me, I wouldn’t have punched you in the face.” I spit back, finally gaining the courage to look him in the face. 

We get silent, and don’t speak to each other for two whole hours; we just sleep and, well frankly try not to look at each other. 

Then finally, I hear the words. 

“Do you know why I’ve always been a dick to you?” He asks, standing from his seat and walking toward me, though his voice sounds like he’s running out of oxygen. 

“Actually no. I’ve never even done anything to you.” I say, tired as all get out, putting my face back into my folded arms on my desk. 

He swings his leg over the seat in front of me, facing the back of the chair and sitting down. He lifts my face off my arms, lifting my face up to meet his eyes with his finger. 

My heart stops. 

I’ve never looked at him- like really looked at him. His eyes are like honey and his skin is the perfect golden tan. His hair is perfectly lush and brushed back away from his face, the dark shades flowing together like art. And his lips; god his lips. 

“Because, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” 

I can feel my skin tingle and fire awaken where his finger on my chin is. My eyes widen in shock, and he looks at my lips, his eyes full of hunger. 

“Then why-” He cuts me off with a kiss so hot it knocks my breath from my lungs, his hand on my face holding more authority and reason.

His lips are so intoxicating I forget where I am, the smell of his skin on my skin making me see stars. 

I pull away to look at him, and also to get a grip on reality once again. 

“I didn’t know how to handle it,” he whispers against my parted lips; he pulls away. “At first when we were little, I was just being a dickhead, but as time went on, i saw how gorgeous you were, and didn’t know what else to do other than be the same guy I’ve always been.” He says, looking away from me, tilting his head in shame. 

He reaches to touch my hand, but pulls away like my skin is a hot stove.

“I’m sorry- really. No one should have to go through that.” He stands up.

“It’s just that, maybe being a total D-bag is easier?” He says, and I follow his action, getting out of my seat. 

“Maybe I just-” I cut him off, smashing my lips against his, my hands on his chest. Our lips move frantically, our tongues sliding against each other like we’ve known each other’s bodies our whole lives. His hands snake around my waist, pressing me further against his torso and my hands slide up his chest and neck into this thick hair. 

He grabs the bottoms of my thighs, lifts me up and wraps them around his hips, grinding them into my own. 

In my head red flags are everywhere, telling me that this angsty, gorgeous, teenage boy is bad news. I know that, in the back of my mind.

I get it. 

But I’ve never been around a boy so alluring before, almost as if the trail of fire he leaves behind on my skin when he touches me is some sort of siren. 

He lays me down on some desk, laying his body on mine. 

Our hips continue to grind against each other, small groans and whines slipping past our combined lips. 

His big hands run up under my shirt to slip it off, the fabric thrown to the floor somewhere, and he wastes no time in unclipping my bra and throwing it to join my shirt. 

He sits up but only for a split second to rip off his own shirt, revealing to me his tense muscles ripping across his skin. I can’t help but clench my thighs together at the sight, sucking in a breath. Lightening fast he comes back to me, bringing our lips back together in a searing hot kiss that makes my whole body catch fire. 

He slips his hand underneath my panties, his fingers running in between my folds, feeling how embarrassingly wet I am. 

“God, fuck.” He breathes against my lips as his middle finger rubs my clit softy; enough to make let out a loud moan. 

I feel his hard on against my thigh, getting more and more hard by the second. 

He pulls his hand away to take the rest of our clothes off, his torso back on top of mine, my legs around his waist. 

He takes my red face in his hands, running his thumb over my cheekbone and gently asks, “Are you sure?” In the most sincere voice I’ve ever heard- and it’s especially strange coming from him. 

“Yes, god please.” I say, breathing rather heavy. He places his forearms under my shoulders to get better leverage, and places one last kiss on my lips. 

He looks deep into my eyes, deeper than anyone has ever looked, and pushes in. 

“Gray, oh god.” I moan out; he’s huge. He slides in and out of me at an intense pace, his face buried in my neck occasionally pressing kisses there.

My breathing gets faster and faster, the moans erupting from me no longer able to be stifled. 

He places his hand over my mouth, “Shh. What if they catch us?” The thought only makes the burning in my core more intense, making me groan against his hand. 

I’m no virgin, but nothing in my life I’ve ever done has felt so damn good

He lets out groans against my neck, the sound better than anything I’ve ever heard. He removes the hand from my mouth, and replaces it with his lips. We moan and whine louder than ever but our kiss stifles it just enough. 

He reaches down to rub my clit, and that’s all I can handle. The euphoria that takes over me is nearly too much, and I pull away to yell his name one last time, his name rolling off my tongue like honey. 

I see his face contort, and he pushes in so deep and cums inside me, soothing the burn I feel. We both freeze, taking in the pure pleasure. 

“Holy fuck.” He says, giving me a messy kiss full of tongue and desire, 

“Gray.” I whisper, my eyes slipping closed. 


“I’m sorry I punched you in the face.” 


Prompt: @southernbellestatues Hi!!! I was wondering if I could have #36 on the list with AOS Bones? Pretty please! Thank you so much and CONGRATULATIONS!!! 900 is such a huge number and we’re all so lucky to have found your corner of the internet ❤️

Pairing: Len/Reader

Warnings: None

A/N: this…This wasn’t as fluffy as it could be, the original idea involved pregnancy. This…This is not that.

Word Count: 360 ish

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Anonymous asked:

I’m sorry to disturb you (it may be an odd question and I understand if you don’t want or you’re not able to answer it) but do you think a character can be both naive and sarcastic ? Or are these two characteristics antithetic ? Thanks for the help :)

You’re not disturbing me–I run a writing question/answer blog. Answering questions is what I’m here for. :) <3

I think that’s a great question! Yes, I think someone can be both naive and sarcastic. Someone who is naive may not be worldly or have a lot of life experience, but they certainly don’t sit in an empty room all day staring at a blank wall. They have a life, which means they experience things on a daily basis. Sarcasm only requires a person to be just bitter enough about a situation to notice the irony in it. For example, you might not expect a teacher to load you up with homework on the day before spring break, so if it happens, even a naive person might say, “Oh, thank you so much Mrs. Anderson! I can’t wait to read 300 pages of War and Peace while my friends soak up sun at the beach.”

The key to making a character both naive and sarcastic is to make sure they’re applying sarcasm in ways that make sense for them. A character who hasn’t been outside their own town and hasn’t found other ways to learn about the world probably wouldn’t make sarcastic remarks about world travel, cultural differences, or daily life in another country. (Again, unless they learned about those things through means other than travel, which many people do.) But there are many experiences your character will have had that can fuel many sarcastic remarks. :)

Have a writing question? I’d love to hear from you! Prohibited questions: howto portray/describe things (characters, emotions, situations), specialist knowledge questions (medical, military, mental health, etc.), asking for tropes/cliches or resources, triggering/controversial topics; broad, vague, or complicated questions. See master list & main site for more info!

rebellacycle  asked:

Don't know if you saw an Easter egg 🐣in the trailer I was just on instagram and a poster put on their page a scene in the trailer where carol is sitting with Tara and beside carol on the side wall on the bridge there on her right is a hand drawn flower the posters instagram is welcome to. Nissan she circled is and made a reference to Cherokee rose . Maybe could mean something with Daryl and carol this season or it's nothing what do you think?

I have no idea what you just said 😳

when I was walking up to the theater there was a taako sitting against the wall on their phone who would ever so often, without looking up, call out “from tv” in a super bored voice and that was the most in character cosplayer I’ve ever seen

It Wasn't Worth All The "Horror Movie Bullshit"

Context: I am DMing a group of players through an amped-up version of the Death House from Curse of Strahd. This is meant to be a one-shot mini-campaign where many (if not all) of them will die, so I’m doing my best to make things as dangerous and scary as possible, including playing creepy music which has them all on edge. The group has made it to the third floor of the house and found two doors, one locked and one unlocked. This takes place after they fail to open the locked door.

Player 1: So the other door is unlocked, right?

DM: Right.

Player 1: I go to open the door… 13 for perception?

DM: As you look around your notice this room is mostly empty save for a desk with a large iron key on top of it. There is also a window on the far wall and sitting on it as a porcelain doll with a faded yellow dress. It’s eyes seem to follow you.

Player 1: Nope! Fuck that! I close the door.

Player 3: But the key! What if it unlocks the other door?

Player 1: Ugh, fine. I open the door again.

DM: You see the same scene, but the doll is no longer on the windowsill.

Player 1: Uh, perception 17 to see where it is?

DM: You cautiously pure around the room, looking for any signs of a faded yellow dress, however seen nothing… Until you look down.

Player 3: NO.

DM: Yes. The doll is standing by the partially open door, looking up at you with blue glass eyes.

Player 2: I roll to fucking punt it across the room! *rolls a 2*

DM: You take a step forward and go to kick the doll with all your might… only to have it grab your boot with its tiny porcelain fingers.



DM: You hear a high pitched shriek echoing from the room as the doll’s head explodes into flames, it’s worn yellow dress catching almost immediately. You watch in abject horror as it releases its grip and stumbles back. As its hair burns away, its glass eyes roll upwards to look at you before beginning to melt back into its porcelain skull.

Player 3: NOPE! I roll to slam the door shut!

DM: The door slams shut without a problem and the screaming stops abruptly.

Player 1: Guys… we still need that key…

After some argueing about whether or not getting the key and potentially unlocking the other door was “worth all this horror movie bullshit”, Player 1 again steps up.

Player 1: Okay, I open the door again and get a 14 perception.

DM: The first thing you notice is an eerie silence followed by the distinct smell of sulfur and burning hair, and lastly you see the remains of the doll. Her body is charred black, her hair has burned away along with the clothes she was wearing, and the sockets which once held blue eyes are empty, yet somehow you still feel as if you are being watched. She sits upon the desk, holding the iron key in her lap.


DM: Roll me an athletics check.

Player 1: 19?

DM: You do so easily, slamming the door behind you. Congratulations, you got the key.

Queue having to take a 10 minute break as the DM laughed about their reactions and everyone shared their mutual terror of babydolls, agreeing that after this all was over they were going to burn the whole house down.

Tag this with how you’d pass the time and fight off the existential madness of immortality if you were in the 17776 reality

Earlier today when I was at work, I just finished salah and was sitting with my back against the wall doing dhikr. A sister walked in to pray but because of the dumb rules this stupid hospital has got going, they removed spare skirts and hijabs from the prayer room for non-hijabi sisters to utilise.

Another sister in the prayer room saw this, she took off her hijab and her abayah and gave it to the non-hijabi sister to wear just so that she could perform salah. Wallahi the non-hijabi sister who was so happy by this small but great gesture, she was in tears. When she left, she gave the other sister the tightest of hugs.

This is the beauty of Islam. Not belittling one another but by giving da'wah, spreading salaam even if it’s not through speech, but through actions. The Sisterhood in Islam is so strong, as if taking away our garments would stop us from worshiping our Lord.


Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - Chapter Twenty-Three: The Yule Ball

Once everyone else was settled in the Hall, Professor McGonagalltold the champions and their partners to get in line in pairs andto follow her. They did so, and everyone in the Great Hall applaudedas they entered and started walking up toward a largeround table at the top of the Hall, where the judges were sitting.

The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.

Happy Birthday @chychymazzu!! Have a wonderful day and I hope you like this present heheee yes I was the anon asking your favourite character the other day, it was all part of my plan mwahahaa! I wanted to give something back to you since you give so much to this fandom with requests and your beautiful art!