so over this life this is awful but i gave up can you tell

What is a story you have been dying to tell?

When I was 15 years old, I ran away from home because I was pissed off at my parents for a reason I cant remember. I didnt have much money, so I decided to hop onto the skytrain(public transport train in British Columbia) and ride it as far as it would go. I reached the end of the line in less then an hour, and decided I wanted to ride it all the way back again, while trying to formulate some kind of plan of how I wanted to live the rest of my life without my parents or anyone. At the last stop, or the first stop depending on your perspective of it, a girl came on and sat in the row right behind me. I didnt pay much attention to her at first, as I was busy writing my life plan on a napkin. It was a few minutes later that she got up and came sat next to me, curious as to what I was writing. I told her the story, and after a few laughs, we began talking about everything and anything. Her name was Amanda, 17 years old, and absolutely wonderful. She told me she was getting off at the last stop, which was also the first stop, depending on how you look at it. It was also the stop I had gotten on originally, and I told her we would ride to it together. The train ride took less then an hour, and what a wonderful hour indeed.

When the last stop did come, we both knew we probably wouldnt see each other ever again(this was before the days of cellphones, and I was a shy little kid afraid to make moves). As we got to the end of the sidewalk which split in two different directions, she went right and I went left. Before saying goodbye she turned to me and asked me a question that has become a wonderful part of my life; she asked me, “Tell me something you have done, or want to do, that you think I should do? It can be anything, as challenging as you want it to be, or as easy. As long as you give me the rest of my life to complete it, I promise I will do it..” I was confused as to why, but I thought about it, and told her, “Sing a song acapella in a room full of strangers.” She said perfect and asked me if I would like a challenge as well. I told her I did, and she told me, “read, from start to finish, “Ulysses” by James Joyce.” I had never heard of it at the time, but I agreed, and we said our goodbyes.

I have a awful memory, and cant remember most conversations I have with most people. But I remember all of that clearly. You know why? Because of the challenge she gave me. In the 12 years that have past since, I have tried to read that book in over 150 different sittings. Everytime I open my copy of the 780 page monster of a book, I always think of her, and I always think of that day. Ive never been sure if it was her intent or not, but she left her lasting memory on me with that challenge. I soon after learned what she did, was a completey wonderful and amazing thing for me. So I decided to keep it going. Ive met a lot of strangers in my life; some that have become friends, and some, due to living in different time zones and whatnot, didnt. I dont want to just have experiences and then let them go. I want to remember these meetings, and embrace the fact that they happened. So whenever I leave someone who has left an amazing impact of my life, I always make sure to add them to my Ulysses Bucket List. I ask them to give me a challenge, as difficult or as easy as they want it to be, and regardless of the fact that they have done it or not; simply something their heart has had wanted to do.

Some have been easy and fun; I met a man in India 9 years ago who told me to, for a week or a month, cook/buy twice as much food as I intend on eating, and give the other half to a stranger in need. I completed that mission 8 years ago, and thought about that man and the time we had all the way through. I met a girl on a cruise 6 years ago, who told me to jump into a body of water on a slightly cold day, without touching or feeling the temperature of the water first. I did that the very same year. I met a couple at an outdoor music festival a few years ago that told me to wear the most bizarre outfit imaginable and walk through a public place, completely oblivious to the fact that you arent looking normal. I did that task the very next day, at the same festival. Some have been difficult, to say the least: three guys I met in Amsterdam and smoked all night with, told me to go to a mall and give 10 strangers 10 presents. That one took a lot of courage, but I did it a year or so after I met them. It was nerve racking, but at the same time exhilerating leaving my comfort zone. A girl I met on a plane told me to sky dive; Im still in the process of getting that done. A couple I met in Cali on the beach told me to tell the 5 people I hated the most, that I love them and respect them. That one was very difficult because of my stubborness, but ive come close to completing that list many a times(still in the process, 2 more people to go).

And some things, have had an everlasting impact on my daily life. I met a girl at a music festival, who told me that whenever I get mad at someone, walk away, sing my happy song in my head for 5 minutes, go back to the person im mad at with a clam heart and mind, and work things out. Ive made this my way of life. I once met a man at a gym in a hotel I was staying at, that told me “whenever your body and brain tells your that you are exhausted and done…use your heart instead and push out 2 more reps.” Ive made this my motto when working out or working on any kind of extrenuating exercise in which my body demands me to quit. I also use it while working on anything, and while studying. One of the best pieces of advice ive ever received.

There are many others that each brought joy to my life. There are still many tasks I have yet to accomplish, and everytime I think of these tasks, I think of the people that gave them to me. It amazes me how well I remember all these people, while I cant remember so many aspects of even yesterday. These experiences, not only do I take from them a “mission” or a “challenge”, I also take from them a memory of them that never fails to appear inside of my mind. I opened my Ulysses book for probably the 300th time yesterday, and read a few pages, which prompted me to share this story with you today. Im in the final 30 pages of the book, also known as the most dreaded of the read(in the last 40 pages or so, James Joyce doesnt use a single punctuation mark; no periods, no commas, no nothing; a straight 50 page run-on sentence).

I never saw Amanda after that day, nor do I know if she ever did get a chance to sing a song to a room full of strangers. But what I do know, is that she gave me a gift that has never once stopped giving. So wherever you may be, thank you for giving me the Ulysses Bucket List. And I swear i’ll finish it one day. My life advice? Simple: Create your own Ulysses bucket list.

anonymous asked:

i have a prompt for you: what if snape hadn't called lily 'mudblood' that day. what if their friendship had stayed strong, unbreakable. would he have grown to be a better person? would lily have loved him, rather than james? would harry just have another godfather? would james and lily have survived?

Okay you have successfully convinced me to write a Snape thing, which is a possibility I have audibly forsworn many times to my loved ones. But I’m a sucker for concepts like “Harry gets another godfather,” so, here we go.


When Severus was seven, he fell in love with the girl down the street. She had long red hair and dirty knees and she offered him half her candy bar one drizzly afternoon, waiting outside the school for her parents to come pick her up.

His parents weren’t coming— dad working late and mum at the pub recounting old Hogwarts glory stories, talking of years when her life was magical– but he didn’t tell Lily that. He was just waiting for the older bully boys who lurked in the empty lot on his way home to get bored and leave.

He ate the candy slowly in neat little bites while she grinned and told him about her big sister’s feud with the science teacher, like her Tuney was some sort of hero in a political espionage drama. She talked with her hands, narrow little things with freckled backs. He watched her wave from the back window of her mother’s car and then he started the long walk home.

When Severus was fifteen, James Potter dangled him upside down in the quad and laughed. Severus landed on elbows and knees. The bruises would stay for a week. The memories would not die with them— James’s cocky grin, the laughter in the spring air, the long whip of Lily’s red hair.

He felt small, bug-like, his knees pressing into the grass. His mother would come home some nights, kick the threadbare carpet, rattle the battered old pans in the cupboard, curse a Ministry that hated purebloods, that sucked up to halfbreeds and Mudbloods, that left the true wizards to rot in filth. He would curl up, make himself small, bug-like, imagine a chitinous shield growing over his shoulders, his spine, the softness of his kidneys. Some days, his father slept through this. Some days he screamed back.

After Severus met Lily, he would curl up under his covers, small, bug-like, and read through the comics she’d lent him with his hands pressed up over his ears. He wanted Professor X to come take him away. He wanted to be someone special, someone saved. He wanted a giant to burst through his door and frighten his mother and offer him a squashed birthday cake and a way out.

When Severus was fifteen, he slammed to his knees on the green Hogwarts quad. Laughter burrowed into his ears, like curses, like the nights his father screamed back, and when Lily stepped toward him he snapped, “I don’t need help from a Mudblood.”

When Severus slouched up to her door that summer, Lily didn’t invite him in. She leaned on the open frame of the door, arms crossed. He had so rarely seen Lily neither smiling or incandescent with rage, but she watched him with snakeskin eyes and a set mouth, still.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t–”

She twitched a strand of hair over her shoulder, the irritation the closest thing to an emotion he could spot on her. He was watching, desperate– this was Lily, she gave things away. She talked with her hands. He never felt lost, with her. “But why,” said Lily. “Why are you sorry? Because I’m upset, or because what you did was wrong?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You did, and it’s not the point. I don’t care if it’s the part you care about, Sev, it’s not the part that matters. That was an awful thing to say– to say to anyone. You were cruel because you were scared and embarrassed, but Sev I could really care less. You were cruel.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Sorry’s not enough, Sev. Be fucking better.”

He jerked back and tried to turn it into some kind of laugh. “Language, careful, your mum might hear.”

She shrugged, and stepped back through the open door, and shut it in his face.

He spent the summer reading comic books, haunting the local library, then the local park once it’d closed, and then sneaking home when he was hopeful his parents would be asleep. He tried to think about bravery, but sometimes he just thought about Lily’s hair, the way it went more golden in summer. He tried to think about nobility, ethics and grace, but the clouds chased each other, fat and white, across the sky and he wasn’t sure what any of this had to do with him.

His father took him fishing by a dreary brown creek and they sat in silence. Severus could hear every creak of the rods, every lap of the water, every inhale and movement his father made. He thought maybe if he just said nothing, nothing ever, he’d never say anything again that made Lily’s face go so flat and distant. If he said nothing, maybe nothing would hurt.

His father reached back for a beer can in a swift movement and Severus froze himself unflinching. He sat in that silence afterward, slowing his heartbeat, picking apart the sudden rigid shell of his shoulders. His father hummed, cracking the can open like a gunshot.

He sat alone on the Hogwarts Express that year, stuffed in a compartment with a handful of second years who gave him half the seats while they giggled among themselves about the haircut of someone named Gertrude. Every summer’s end, for five years, he and Lily had boarded the train together, pressed their noses to the window glass, and watched the land rush by.

For the first month of school, Severus practiced pausing before he spoke, for seconds, minutes if he needed them. Sometimes he’d add an answer after the conversation had already moved on, bent over his mashed potatoes, weighing words as carefully as he weighed salamander eyes and mandrake root.

(If you crushed firedrake seeds with the flat of your blade, instead of cutting them, they made a more potent potion. The textbooks told you to stir six times counterclockwise to make Sleeping Draught, but he knew–because he had thought, and tried, and tried again–that if you did five counterclockwise and two clockwise the draught would turn that perfect turquoise and the sleep would be dreamless and sweet and deep. He kept notes in his textbook’s margins, because it helped to remember.)

In the second month, he tried to listen. People were starting to think about life after school, a big yawning chasm they were supposed to fill with themselves. People were starting to fall in love, puppyish and petty. People were starting to believe in the war, whispering, dreaming, fearing.

In the common room, one of the kids said something about Mudbloods and Severus’s head snapped up. He tried to imagine a shell growing into his shoulders, over his spine, covering all the soft parts of him. He wanted his covers, he wanted to shrink, he wanted Lily’s boxfuls of comics, but he rose to his feet and snapped back. Sometimes saying nothing hurt people, too. A small Muggleborn in green and silver ducked away to her dorm, clutching quietly at her sleeves.

For the third month, he tried to watch– not for warning sneers or cocky grins, clenched fists and broad shoulders, all the things he’d been watching for since before he could name them– but for the way shoulders might go rigid, the way fists might clench but hide, wishing for something to shield every soft part of them.

Severus was bony and pimply, sixteen years old and graceless in it, but he could be an interruption. He could mock with the best of them, flicking his brows and twisting his nose, and asking pointed questions. He could talk, smart-mouthed and snide, until the focus turned to him, and then he could survive anything they handed out. He could give as good as he got. The pauses were shorter, these days, before he spoke, but they would always be there, an echo offset from the shout, an avalanche that struck late and terrible.

When kids cried in bathrooms or empty classrooms or the library, he didn’t move to comfort them, though he heard them. He didn’t know how. He wrote his own curses, out in the forest where he could scar the trees in experiment, and they all turned out bloody. He loved few things, even Lily, as much as he loved pouring all of himself into his work, until something new and his own grew out of it. He wasn’t sure he’d ever invented something kind.

He didn’t try to find Lily, but he came back from the Forest once and almost tripped over her, half-napping in Hagrid’s pumpkin patch. He stumbled back into a gargantuan gourd while she pushed hair out of her face and peered up at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, after a pause that rumbled and roiled in his gut, that he clung to with both hands, breathing into it and letting his shoulders go soft. “I’m sorry I said it. I’m sorry I made you feel small because I was feeling– small.”

Lily sat up a bit, in the little semi circle she’d built herself of books and scrolls and gobstones and snacks. She had built fairy circles like that, when they were children, of the flowers he’d transfigured for her.

“I’m sorry anyone has to feel that way, ever,” he said. “They shouldn’t. I’m angry anyone has to feel that way.”

“Me, too,” she said, and, fishing around in the detritus that surrounded her, handed him half a candy bar. “C'mon, you want some tea? Hagrid said he’d put a kettle on for me if I finished my Arithmancy.”

When Severus was in sixth year, Remus Lupin almost killed him on a moonlit night.

Severus had wanted answers, had wanted to get them in trouble, had wanted something a bit like vengeance, and Sirius had told him about the Whomping Willow. Sirius had grinned when he’d done it, small and bitter, and Severus had wondered if he was fighting with James again, wondering why else he’d sell out his friends.

“I didn’t think–” Sirius tried, the morning after, watching Remus across dry toast and cocoa, big juicy bowls of melon.

“You never do,” Remus snapped. (A bare handful of years later, standing in the smoldering ruins of James and Lily’s house, Remus would think about Sirius’s erratic gaze, the sharp edge of his voice, his last name, and wonder if he should have seen it coming. What here was premeditated? What was mischief? Sirius had once almost painted Remus’s own hands with red blood.)

But for now, Remus was sixteen and angry; he was sixteen and guilty of things that might have happened. He didn’t speak to Sirius for a month.

James refused to speak with Sirius, too, but he only lasted a week. Moony was sulking and Peter was busy studying his little heart out, and James got twitchy without proper and regular socialization.

“I’ll punch him in the nose,” said Lily, when Severus told her. She shifted where she sat cross-legged on the library table, like she might go off and hunt him down that second.

“Black doesn’t deserve the attention,” said Severus.

“Getting his ass kicked by a girl? That type of attention?”

“Getting his ass kicked by Lily Evans,” Severus said. “It’d be an honor and you know it.”

Reports of violence outside Hogwarts got worse. People were disappearing. People were whispering, fearing. The papers were ignoring the important things, and feeding off the fearmongering, or so Lily announced in the library while Severus was trying to study.

Alice and Lily had spent years sharing hissed rants in humid greenhouses. Over an undulating bed of luminescent deadly nightshade, Alice bent her head close to Lily’s and asked, “Have you heard of the Order of the Phoenix?”

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anonymous asked:

Okey but i am a sucker for angst and well i was thinking what do you think would happen if lotor wouldn't "save" keith and keith actually killed himself to save the mission... What do you think shiro would do and feel? Cause i have no idea... Well i can imagine him screaming at keith not to do it to find another way but what would he do after ?

You know the really awful thing about this? At first, Shiro would be congratulating him, saying good job. Because Team Voltron had no idea what was happening on the other end, they just knew Keith was going to try and stop the ship. And it stopped. So, mission success, right? Shiro commends him for his efforts, but the cruel irony there is that, if it was actually Keith who stopped the ship, he’d be dead. Shiro would be there smiling and telling Keith how proud he was and hearing–nothing. Dead silence. 

Keith’s comms are completely down. It could be nothing, just some interference, the others reason. But Shiro tenses, and his stomach drops. Something’s not right here, he can feel it in his gut. The few seconds between when Coran’s call is received and they open up comms are the longest of his life. It’s childish and cowardly, but he doesn’t want to answer. Doesn’t want to hear the words. And even as Coran speaks, relays Keith’s world shattering decision–Shiro hardly listens. The words are there, punctuated by sharp breaths and wretched sobs, but Shiro doesn’t need to hear. He already knows what happened, can feel it in his bones.

Keith always gave back more than the universe deserved. 

The flight back to the castle is a streak of stars and warbled static. Shiro doesn’t know how long it takes. Shiro isn’t sure when they made it back. Shiro hardly remembers sitting down until Hunk is already offering him a blanket and Allura insists he eat some food. He’s glassy-eyed and numb when everyone offers their condolences, hands reflexively clenching every now and again. The light that shoots up his galra tech arm is sheer impulse, but the flare is still enough to startle. Lance walks him back to his room and tells him he should rest. 

For the longest time, Shiro wonders why he did it. How did he do it? Was he calm and composed right up until the very end? Did he scream? Did he cry? Did he break down and steel himself with some sacred oath of duty before he blasted himself to pieces? Did he ever think about how the others would feel? How he would feel? Did he ever believe his life was worth anything at all?

And you know what else is cruel? Keith didn’t even get to say his goodbyes. Not even so much as another, “It was an honor flying with you.” He was going to die without telling his team one last time how much they mean to him, without telling Shiro. He couldn’t bare to say his goodbyes, there wasn’t time, they would’ve tried to stop him–there are a number of reasons not to, so he didn’t. It’s for the best, he must’ve told himself. If he doesn’t acknowledge it, doesn’t speak the words aloud, then this can’t be real. Just close your eyes and it’ll all be over soon. It’s a thought Shiro can’t cut loose, and he lets it close around his throat with every shaky breath. 

And it isn’t until the horrible sinking sensation creeps up on him in the midst of another sleepless night, slicing right through him like a knife–that he realizes, choking back a sob that devolves into a mindless scream. “It was always meant to be yours.”

Had Keith kept piloting Black instead, he would’ve been saved. 

Just know that we’re here for you whenever you need us.” “I know you are. And I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

He can’t bare to set foot in Black for a long time after that.

Skyline

Warnings: None

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Thank you to all those who followed me and read my first fic!  I’m thinking of doing a part two to this one, so if you like it, let me know!

Your fire escape had always been your favourite part of your apartment.  Situated outside your bedroom window, you had spent countless hours of your life lounging on the metal steps, reading a book or catching up on some homework.  Last summer, you had wound a string of fairy lights around the rails, which were coated in shiny dark paint.  Your landlady had protested at first but, after you proved that they weren’t endangering the use of the fire escape in any way, she had let you keep them.  The small victory had brought a smile to your face, and now your escape was even cozier than before, and was still just as cozy a year later.  This year’s summer brought scorching heat and clear nights, and you spent most of your free time out on your escape, trying to catch a breeze.

You sat on your fire escape now, wearing a lightweight hoodie and pajama shorts, doodling in a journal.  School was out for the week and tomorrow didn’t require a six am wake up call, leaving you free to stay up late and admire the Queens skyline at night.  It was nights like these that you loved the most; nights that seemed like they were pulled straight from a movie scene, with stars that glimmered like flames, a full moon bigger than you had ever seen before, and the sounds of the city mixing in with the quiet melodies that drifted out of the speakers propped up on your window sill.  You would be content for the rest of your life if you could keep moments like these forever.

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important facts & quotes from hidden oracle reread #4 part one

i cited everything from the hardback edition bc im a nerd 

- page one apollo is already making pop culture references (1)

- meg is such a badass oh my g od (14)

- riodan does such a beautiful way of explaining things in this novels. awe-inspiring. mind blowing. example: “Her eyes glinted darkly like a crow’s. (I can make that comparison because I invented crows.)” (14-15) wow. beautiful. 

- so i understand this series is going to be about Apollo’s redemption and ~~~~finding himself~~~~ or w\e but JESUS PLEASE RICK you can’t just say “She [Meg] reminded me of the strays my sister was always adopting: dogs, panthers, homeless maidens, small dragons.” (15) WITHOUT PROVIDING SEVERAL BOOKS AS EXAMPLE FOR SAID SENTENCE all i want is a book focused on artemis and her army of small dragons and lesbians dear gods please 

- omfg can you just imagine sally having to go over to Percy’s room and having to tell him that the greek god of the sun apollo was there to see him omfg. imagine the salt. imagine both of them just groaning. imagine.

-”If I had still been an immortal, I might have flirted with her [Sally Jackson] myself.” (30-31) l o l Sally is a middle aged married woman seven months pregnant and still bringing in the gods you go girl im proud of you

- Sally Jackson is one of the best characters in the entire series. citation: every riodan book ever even the non-pjo it’s a fact 

- i 10000% support the idea that percy gave apollo the led zeppelin shirt as a sneaky joke he’s so smart i love him so much

- “Percy laced his fingers. They were long and nimble.”(35) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

- He [Percy] would have made an excellent musician.” (35) f u ck 

- literally all percy wants is to “stay alive” long enough to go to college, meet his baby sister, and see his mom get her book published my heart is broken for this boy (35-36)

- the return of the seven layer dip fuck me up (40)

- jfc that poor Prius it’s been through so much (52-54)

- page 67 and Percy’s already made two comic book references he’s such a canon nerd 

- “Cops love me almost as much as teachers do.” god Percy Jackson what are you doing to me

- apollo tried to order a pizza to CHB and honestly same (73)

- g o d will solace jfc wow

- we’re to assume Will’s a skier (his Okemo Mountain jacket & skiers tan) (82) and now i have to write the inevitable fic that comes out of this fact

- Will’s mom was a alt.-country singer from Austin, Texas (83) which wow and honestly makes the fact will is a horrible singer 1000% better

- yellow daises grow year-round in the Apollo cabin, and it smells like fresh linens and dried sage. (83)

- kayla is aiming for the olympics and honestly im so proud already 

- fact: any and all solangelo interaction have me crying into my book 

- “Will put his hand on Nico’s shoulder, ‘Nico, we need to have another talk about your people skills.’” lol this implies that they’ve had this talk before and im dying to hear it

- the Hermes kids are big fans of Rocky Horror Picture Show (95) and now i have to write a seperate list of headcanons for this fact

- speaking of, Apollo used to cosplay as Rocky bc why not. (95-96)

- listen i know im solangelo trash BUT - “Will and Nico sat shoulder to shoulder, bantering good-naturedly. They were so cute together it made me feel desolate.” im destroyed (110)

- “but if I sit alone at my table, strange things happen.” “it’s a mood disorder” “i cant control it” stfu nico u nerd u just want to sit with your boyfriend im dead (110)

- Will nodded serenely. “It’s the strangest thing. Not that Nico would ever misuse his powers to get what he wants.” death to goody-two-shoes will solace 2k17

- off topic but CAN YOU JUST IMAGINE CHIRON THO. like. this happens and will and nico are just standing there. in front of him. telling him they have to sit together OR NICO WILL JUST HAPPEN TO PUT CRACKS INTO HIS CAMP. just imagine. him staring at them. sighing. deciding not to fight this one. agreeing & watching them giggle away bc they’re so SNEAKY & now they can EAT TOGETHER WOW 

-   lol when Meg was going to town on the hot dogs and “Julia and Alice watched her with a mixture of fascination and horror.” (111)

- “Will and Nico exchanged a look that might have meant, here we go.” (112) okay im sorry im just sO GONE FOR LITTLE MOMENTS LIKE THIS I JUST WANT NICO TO BE HAPPY AND COMFORTABLE IN HIS RELATIONSHIPS OKAY

- apollo refers to the seven as “the A-list” (112) same tho

- Jason, Piper, Coach Hedge, Mellie and baby Chuck are all in LA with Piper’s father like???? (113) THIS IS SOMETHING I NEED TO SEE? What’s the living arrangement? Is Jason living with Piper? OH GOD IS JASON LIVING WITH HEDGE AND MELLIE? DO THEY ALL LIVE IN SOME BIG PLACE PIPER’S DAD RENTED OUT???? do Piper and Jason babysit? do they have family dinners? how’s baby chuck doing??? how are they all adjusting to domestic life?? I NEED TO KNOW THIS IS ALL VERY IMPORTANT TO ME 

- lol nico’s just as pissed as eveRYONE IN THE FANDOM about Leo’s not-death and im living for it (113)

- also nico carries around Leo’s lil ‘IM ALIVE LOL’ letter\hologram\thing? like i get it was completely for the plot but?????? “i look at it whenever i want to get angry” (114) like ok nico u lil bean whatever u say u little emo shit

- apollo’s little ‘lol when u have a headache in olympus hephaestus just cracks open your skull and removes whatever brain god\dess u just birthed up lol it’s so much easier ugh’ (116) w h a t t h e f u c k 

- fact: harley is adorable no citation needed

- also you’re telling me chiron, basically as old as time itself tbh, doesn’t speak portuguese? k (120)

- “i am merely assessing how well paolo’s arms are functioning after surgery” (120) those are some big words william u nervous or something??

- “hmph” - nico di angelo, 2016 (120) 

- this isn’t really important but there’s a satyr named herbert and he’s my new favorite character sorry i dont make the rules (124)

- ok so there’s an unnamed random camper who mutters in Italian (127) and now i’ve got the BIGGEST headcanon that this random girl and Nico (omg maybe a few others????) meet a few times a month just to rant to each other in Italian so none of them get sloppy with the language and u g h im such a bitch for nico di angelo frienships

- “A boy in the crowd gasped, ‘she’s a communist!’” (127) i fucking hate this book omfg

i’ll do more later in order to mentally prepare myself for the dark prophecy but it’s 3 am and im tired  

Mute

- Where Harry doesn’t talk and falls in love with Y/n.

Masterlist linked in bio


It’s Monday, which means that Harry has to start his week with Physics class.

Harry doesn’t mind the subject itself, he actually has come to the conclusion that it’s the class he’s most interested in—it’s more so the three-hour lab that couldn’t seem to end soon enough. Physics lab means three hours of group research, which requires an abundance of group participation and discussion—all of which makes Harry want to crawl out of his own skin.

And despite Physics holding Harry’s highest grade in university, everyone in that class only hopes to not be paired with him.

Not one student has heard him utter a single word, which ultimately led them to believe that his lack of participation will jeopardize their already mediocre grades. But Harry always finds himself writing all the data information to make up for his lack of discussion, even if he hated it.

So inevitably, Harry lets out an inaudible sigh when he settles into his chair, hair a bit disheveled and eyes still watering from the early hour. And he mentally curses himself for sleeping in a couple extra minutes because now he hasn’t gotten a single ounce of caffeine to help him feel more prepared for the next three hours.

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MORNING AFTER WITH BTS || Friends version

waking up next to your best friend after a drunk one night stand can’t be good… right?

Seokjin:

★you and jin had shared a bed many times

★so waking up next to you wasn’t something that bothered him

★he was used to waking up with a dead arm because you were laid on it

★what did bother him was that the two of you were naked

★he’d scrunch up his face trying to piece the small bits of memory he had together

★the panic would rise slightly as he tried to remember if he was protected

★that would soon be quashed when he saw the foil wrapper on the bedside drawers

★he’d then begin to panic over what would happen when you woke up

★would you leave and never talk to him again?

★over something the two of you couldn’t even remember?

★he decided to just treat it like any other time you two wake up together

★he carefully moved you from his arm and onto a pillow

★pulled on a pair of pyjamas

★and went to cook breakfast for the two of you

★when you finally woke and went to find him in the kitchen he’d offer you a small smile

★’you’re making omelette?’

★’it’s your favourite’

★’no egg pun with that?’

★’my egg puns aren’t craking today’

★’oh thank god. i thought you were going to be off with me’

★’why would i do that?’

★’you might see me different after last night’

★’i do see you different’

★’oh’

★’i see you as a god/goddess. now sit down and have your breakfast’

★the two of you ate while talking about the last thing you remember from last night

★'it isn’t as bad as they make it look in movies. we haven’t screamed at eachother, nor do we regret it’

★’you don’t regret it?’

★’i got to sleep with the most handsome man in the world, what’s to regret?’

★’you’re such an idiot’



Yoongi:

★more like afternoon after 

★you woke before him

★and decided it would be best to let the poor guy try get as much sleep as possible

★when you move to get off the bed to dress and leave, he’ll groan as his sleep was disturbed

★he’d watch you pull on your clothes then clear his throat

★’so that’s it? you’re not even going to tell me how i was?’

★’how do you not know how you were?’

★’i was drunk’

★’so was i’

★’well we’re just gonna have to do it again’

★when you threw a piece of clothing at him he’d laugh and sit up

★’you want to go get breakfast?’

★’it’s two in the afternoon’ 

★’we’re breaking the fast, Y/N. therefore it’s breakfast’

★’here’s me thinking i would have breakfast made for me’

★’i’m just as disgusted about last night i deserve compensation in the form of food also’

★when you frowned at his words, he’ll reach to pull you back onto the bed

★’it’s called a joke, love’

★he’d wrap the covers around you along with his arms

★he’d nuzzle his face into you

★and his hands would come to rest on your stomach under your shirt

★’i was serious about the doing it again thing. i’d like to do it again many times’ 

★’is that your way of asking me to be your friend with benefits?”

★’no, that was my way of asking if you’d be my girlfriend/boyfriend’

★’will i get breakfast in bed?’

★’no’

★’then it’s a no from me’

★’you little shit’

★you’d both stay laid in bed until your stomach growled

★he’d order food from his phone

★’i could cook’

★’it would require you getting out of bed’

★’we can’t stay in bed forever’

★’not with that attitude you can’t’

★he really loves to play with your hands???

★he’ll trace shapes, lyrics, his shopping list

★when it’s time for you to leave, he’ll kinda just stretch out on the bed 

★and pout

★’take me up on my offer of going out with me’

★’why should i?’

★’because i never want to wake up without you again’


Hoseok:

★softest gentleman to ever live

★when he got out of bed, he’d wrap the covers over you so none of you was exposed

★he’d go and start breakfast and make you both coffee

★when he returned to the room to see you waking up he’d turn to mush

★’breakfast is cooking. do you want to join me for a quick shower?’  

★’that would be lovely’

★’i’ve only got shower gel for me, so you’ll have to smell like me for a while’

★he’d help you out of bed and walk you to the bathroom  

★when under the water, he’ll massage your shoulders and back 

★’i could get used to this’ 

★he’d laugh and pull you back to him 

★’do you want to get used to it?’

★he’d sway with you in his arms

★’we should go eat’

★helps you get dried 

★let’s you wear something from his wardrobe

★gushes over it

★is a big ball of mush for you

★sits you on the sofa and spoon feeds you breakfast



Namjoon:

★he’d warm with joy when he wakes up to see your naked form curled into him

★though his smile would quickly fade when he saw the bruises that decorated your skin

★his fingers would run over one slowly

★you’d give a groan in response and he’d move away quickly

★’why did you stop?’ 

★you moved to look up at him

★a frown of your own on your face when you saw his expression

★’do you want me to leave?’

★’no! no, it’s just that I made a mess of you’

★you’d look down to your chest and giggle at the purple spots you now adorned

★’it’s not funny! you should’ve stopped me!’

★’why? it obviously felt good’

★’it looks painful’

★’i think it looks pretty. a souvenir, if you will’

★his mood would lift back up at your laughing 

★he’d move to hover over you and kiss all over the marks  

★he’d help you get dressed 

★would try his best to brush you hair

★but ends up getting the brush stuck

★so he gives up and lets you take over

★this poor pup can’t cook for his life so out to mcdonalds you go

★he’d wrap his arm around you while you walked 

everything happens for a reason, you know’

★‘yeah, it was always destined for you to take me to mcdonalds for lunch’



Jimin:

★jimin took good care of you as your friend

★but after you’d been intimate hot damn be prepared to be treated like royalty

★you’d wake up on your own

★but a few seconds after you’d see him walk through the door with a tray in his hands

★’you’re not leaving until I’ve fed you’

★’who said i was planning on leaving?”

★you’d both giggle alot

★after eating breakfast together in bed, you’d flop next to him and sigh

★’tell me how much you liked it~’ 

★’it was alright’

★’alright? alright wouldn’t have made you moan like that’

★’how do you remember that?’

★’you don’t forget the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard’

★’shut up’ 

★he’d lay over you to stop you from getting up

★’are we still friends?’

★'you wanna be friends after i had you a quivering mess beneath me? i don’t think so. we’re walking away at least friends with benefits. but me being your boyfriend would be ideal’

★soft bub would turn red when you agreed to the whole dating thing

★he’d move to pin your arms on the bed and straddle your stomach

★’tell me you love me’

★’i don’t’

★’then why’d you say yes?’

★’you got a nice butt’

★would attack you with kisses



Taehyung:

★if you think you could sneak out of bed think again

★he’d have his limbs wrapped around you so tight while you slept

★so when you woke up, you’d try to shimmy out of his grip

★but gave up shortly after 

★so you just laid and waiting for him to wake up

★and when he did you’d be smothered in kisses

★he’d be so happy that you’re still here

★’you didn’t leave?”

★’how could i leave when you’ve got me in a death grip?’

★’oh, sorry’

★he’d free you from the cage his limbs made 

★so you can finally stretch

★upon stretching you finally feel the numbness in your lower half

★b/c my boy goes h a r d 

★when he hears you wince, he frowns and pulls you close to him

★probably says ‘sorry’ 2343223 times

★will run a bath for you to ease some of the throbbing

★but ends up joining you 

★hums while washing your hair

★when you’re dried and dressed he’ll cook for you

★and by cook i mean make toast for you

★he’d sit opposite you, watching you eat

★’is there something on my face?’

★’you’re glowing’

★he’d giggle as your cheeks turned red

★’you look very pretty in the morning’

★’you’re very greasy in the morning’

★he wouldn’t let you out of his sight

★for some reason he thinks you’re ten times more fragile after sex

if another member comes near you he’ll wrap you close to him


Jungkook:

★one huge misunderstanding

★you’d had to leave for whatever reason

★so when he woke up to find your side empty he frown

★and kinda just lay there

★trying to remember as much from last night as possible

★he thought you regretted it because you left

★so he wouldn’t text you

★he didn’t want to feel uncomfortable

★and you thought he didn’t text you beause he was ashamed 

★the two of you would just mope around

★the other members would be upset by the shift of mood

★they’d plan to lock you in a room until you sorted things out and things could go back to normal 

★’so’

★’so’

★’you alright?’

★’missed you a bit, but i’m good’

★’you missed me?’

★’yeah, not having you to talk to is awful’

★’i thought you were ashamed’

★’and i thought you were embarrased’

★’we didn’t speak for two weeks because of a misunderstanding?’ 

★’well when we’re done here you’re coming to the dorms and staying until further notice. I have two weeks to catch up on’ 

Smooth Criminal

Officer!Bucky Barnes x Drunk!Reader

Summary: Bucky’s a cop and got called to a crime scene to arrest a criminal but he realizes the criminal is the person he’s dating

Word Count:1,892

Warnings: Police!Au, Language, Drunk Shenanigans, Major Floof

A/N: Written for Manu’s writing challenge, couldn’t help but write cop!Bucky again. @jurassicbarnes thank you for the fun opportunity.

Originally posted by uncensoredsideblog

It had been a quiet night for Officer James Buchanan Barnes and his partner. So far, they had to deal with a fight between two drunk men, an exhibitionist and a few reckless drivers.

Bucky had started his shift at 10 p.m. the previous night and it was now just after 4 a.m. He kept repeating ‘only two more hours’ like a mantra and tried to imagine you all wrapped up and sound asleep in your bed. He really wanted to be with you.

Keep reading

Jealousy Games 02

Description: You decide to play a game of push and pull with your ex Jungkook, bringing Jimin along for the ride.

Pairing: JungkookxReaderxJimin

Genre: Smut (M)

Word Count: 6.2k

Index: 01, 02, 03

Warnings: Jungkook’s POV, masturbation, dirty talk, voyeurism. 

A/N: Alright y’all. Here it is. After this chapter, we can officially head into everything @ellieljade and I have planned. You’re not ready, tbh. As always, thank you to Nicole for being my beta and soundboard. 

Enjoy~!

Keep reading

Jealousy || Stiles Stilinski Imagine

Originally posted by elizabethccoper

Request: Do you do one shots too or only imagines? If you do, I was thinking maybe an teen wolf x Riverdale crossover. Like the reader goes to Riverdale for the summer to hang out with her cousin that just moved there (Veronica) and she meets jughead and he reminds her of stiles the guy she’s been in love with since forever and she starts getting close to jug and Stiles finds out and gets jealous bc he’s lowkey in love with her too and he goes to Riverdale to get her and maybe there’s some angst and smut

A/n: I haven’t posted anything in months (probably 6 months? Idk) and I’m really sorry about that. I had zero motivation to write anything and if I did nothing would come to me, so I’m really sorry. But now I’m back with school almost being over, I have a lot of time now. So enjoy this imagine that I wrote and sorry if it isn’t perfect and sorry if there’s any grammar error. Love you guys x

“Do you have to go?” A sad looking Stiles asked from across the room. You sighed, nodding your head as you packed some clothes in your suitcase. Stiles let out a puff and got up from the chair he was sitting in and walked over to your bed. “I don’t want you to.”

 “Stiles, it’s just the summer. It would go by pretty fast.” You told the brown haired boy and gave him a smile. He gave you a forced smile and you threw the shirt you had in your hands at him. Stiles let out a loud squeak, making you burst out laughing. 

 “That was so not cool.” Stiles claimed, glaring at you. You stuck your tongue out at him and giggled a bit. “Tell me again why are you leaving?”

 “I haven’t seen my cousin, Veronica, in a really long time and she always lived on the other side of the states and now that she’s 5 hour away I can finally go and visit her.” You exclaimed, getting excited about the fact that you’re going to see your beloved cousin after so, so long.

 “What if a monster invades the town?” He asked and you stopped folding your clothes to look at him, raising your eyebrows at him.

 “Stiles, if anyone invades the town there’s always Scott, Malia, Lydia…” you started to say, your face feeling hot before finishing your sentence, “and they have you. If anyone can stop those monsters, it’s you..”

Keep reading

Mr. Min - Chapter 06

Description:  Your CEO caught your attention the first day you started your new job and it seems the attraction is mutual.  Too bad he’s only interested in a relationship that benefits him.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader x Jungkook

Genre: Angst and Smut

Word Count: 26,321 

A/N: I’m so sorry.  I don’t think I’m capable of doing short chapters anymore.  Feel free to read this on AO3 instead if your app messes up.  

And a huge round of applause to the always lovely, @avveh, for beta-ing this behemoth.  I’m so sorry to put you through that lol.

Playlist - Prologue - Ch 01 - Ch 02 - Ch 03 - Ch 04 - Ch 05 - Ch 06

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All I Ever Needed

Paul Lahote Imagine

Paul x Reader

Prompt: A good old opposite’s attract story.

Word Count: 1,071

Authors’s Note: This is pretty messy because I really needed something to be up- so here it is. Sorry for not posting been so busyyyyy. Lovessss xx

Warning: None

You went to the same school as the pack, you had easily became friends with Seth and that had drawn you to La Push. You were timid and shy, only speaking when spoken too and were use to keeping thoughts to yourself. People thought that you were so cute and innocent, a lot of people becoming protective of you.

One night you were invited to one of the campfires that the pack were doing. You easily gave in when Seth gave you puppy eyes and a little pout. “Cool! But uh wear something warm!” He said giving you a little cheeky smile before bouncing of to class.

Never in your life have you ever met Paul. You always heard Seth and Embry going on about him but you never questioned about it.

When you showed up, e/c eyes cast down your h/c hair covering your face as shifted from foot to foot. “Y/n! Seth told me you were coming.” You glanced up in surprise to see Embry who immediately wrapped you in a hug. You smiled up at him as Seth joined next to him,

“C’mon! The stories starting soon!” Seth chirped a massive smile on his face. You giggled when he grabbed you pulling you towards a log. “We’re just waiting for the others to show up.” Embry sat next to you, food somehow in his hand.

“What’s the story about?” You asked softly as you watched the fire, returning your eyes to Seth.

“Well it’s a legend between our tribe. Saying that we are descended form wolves.” Seth said, watching your face. You raised your eyebrows curious about it. He flicked your nose, “No spoilers for you.” You giggled rolling your eyes.

The sound of crunching leaves alerted you, you looked up to see a group of boys, with no tops on coming out the woods. A blush was on your face as you hid behind Seth’s arm. Embry noticed, as did Seth and started to giggle at your shy state. 

“Don’t worry. They won’t bite.” Embry teased lowly to you. All you did was poke out your tongue. As your e/c eyes wandered back to them, they were shoving each other until your eyes landed on a pair of brown ones.


Paul was surprised to see a girl seated between Seth and Embry. He could obviously see how shy you were, just by they way you tried to hide behind Seth. “Awe look. Someones got a girlfriend.” Jared teased beside Paul, immediately getting shoved by Paul. Paul looked back up only to lock eyes with your pair of e/c eyes. He sucked in a breath, stepping back in surprise, eyes widening. 

His imprint

“Awe Paul has his imprint.” Jared teased shoving Paul forward who immediately shoved him back. “Quit it!”


Your eyes widen in surprise. There was a tug pulling at your heart. A tingly sensation coming over you as Seth and Embry watched you with knowing eyes.

Seth and Embry eyed each other and nodded. 


Months later you and Paul had grown closer. So close that he and the pack revealed their secret to you; shifters. It took a while for you to take complete hold of the situation but then on out- everything was good.

Everyone knew about you and Paul getting closer, everyone trying to warn you that he was no good. He’s a hot-headed, violent person and can hurt you easily. This was mostly from people at school and from a few of the pack members.

Again you heard it. Seth wanted to hang out but you were hanging out with Paul in the woods, “I’m sorry Seth… But we can hang out tomorrow?” Your voice was soft, you e/c eyes peering up at his brown pair that seemed a little bit hurt.

“N-no. T-that’s okay…” He walked away before you could say anything, a coat of guilt covered you and your heart started to throb.

You soon started to listen. Everyone was telling you to keep your distance, so you did. You even stopped going to La Push. Only hanging out with Seth, Leah and Embry. 

Guilt still ran through you, you hadn’t even warned Paul and that’s what made it worse. At school you had seen him get angered more easily, get into fights, all the while people were telling you had done the right thing. But it didn’t feel like it.

As you sat at your desk away from Paul who was staring you down, you placed in your earphones even though your phone was dead, just so it was a sign of, please don’t talk to me. A pair of girls sat beside you,

“Oh my gosh. Did you see Paul? How he beat up that poor boy?”

“Girl, yes! He’s fucking crazy.”

You glanced over at Paul who’s, fists were clenched. The girls tried to seem quite but he heard and you knew he did.

You couldn’t take it after hearing a certain comment, 

“Good Y/n leaving him.” Anger boiled in you when she said that.

Ripping out your headphones, slipping out your seat, you glared at the two girls who were shocked at your outbursts, everyone was. You weren’t like that. Always calm and collected. But they had pushed it.

Stomping towards Paul who also sported a shocked face, you grabbed it and smashed your lips against his. Everyone gasping in surprise.

He kissed back immediately, a smirk against your lips.”I’m sorry,” you muttered drawing back from him, “about everything I put you through. That I listened to what they all said…”

Instead of saying anything else, he dragged you out the room, grabbing your bag in the process, as soon as you both were hidden in the woods. He turned to you and picked you up into a kiss. 

Sweet and long with so much want.

“I missed you. God I fucking missed you.” He sighed, nuzzling your cheek.

Wrapped into each others warmth you realized something, “Paul my grades! Paul the rumors!” You panicked bouncing in his arms. He groaned as you tried to climb out his grip.

“I thought we were having a moment!”

“I thought I wanted a good school history!”

“It’s just one period!” He whined. You shifted to look at him with a pout. A roll of his eyes, “fine. But you owe me a lot of time.” A smirking plastering his face, sending a wink to you. “Lucky for you…It’s Friday.”

love letters ❥ peter parker

summary : peter, hopeless romantic that he is, has a cache of love letters, all addressed to you, hidden under his bed and expertly crafted. he never anticipated them being read, or the feelings he has for you being returned.

word count : 3.1k (holy fucking hell i’m sorry)

   Peter couldn’t help it, the way that he was. He was a romantic at a heart, though the awkwardness of him had a tendency to prevail rather than the confident, smooth talking, small part of him that had a desperate desire to reveal itself. Spider-man was as suave as a fifteen year old boy could be; Peter Parker was awkward, inept at participating in normal, human conversation and often incapable of forming coherent sentences more often than not. He wasn’t the best at talking to people besides Ned and Aunt May and- on occasion- Tony Stark. Especially not you. If there was one person that he turned into an absolute bumbling, ridiculous mess around, it was you. He loathed himself for it, sure that you thought that he was weird, annoying, the same way that anyone who didn’t know him assumed he was. 

   Ned, however, continuously insisted that you found Peter to be a sweetheart, like anyone who got to know him well enough did, and that you liked him very much- perhaps more than a friend, though Peter had immediately scoffed at the notion. It was out of the question, downright ludicrous. But, of course, Ned had implanted the idea in Peter’s head, and now the boy’s ever creative mind refused to stop constructing various scenarios in which you were Peter’s girlfriend and he was as happy as he had ever been. 

    While he had been a perfectly charming boyfriend in each and every one of those little dream sequences of his, he was hopelessly lost for words whenever you approached him, unable to even ask what class you had next, let alone reveal the pure adoration he had been holding on to ever since you had been placed beside him in Bio in your freshman year. You had always been the one to stick up for him and smile at him and treat him like a decent human being, and so of course he fell for you, and now he could barely look you in the eye without his cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink. So, he bottled his feelings and let them out in a way he had never known could help him.

    He wrote. 

    He wrote to you every single day and poured his heart out in every single letter and expressed every thought he knew, in his heart, he would never be able to say out loud. Writing what he felt was so much simpler than saying the words out loud. That was what he assumed, anyhow. He took his pen and placed it down on the paper, starting it the same way he always did. 

   Dear Y/N… As always, the words spilled over from his mind to the paper as if he wasn’t thinking, just writing and writing and writing until he had filled two pages without lifting his curly head from the paper once. When he finally finished, a yawn stretching across his mouth, he noticed Aunt May standing outside his door. He turned his chair around, raising his eyebrows at her. 

   “Writing to that pretty girl again?” She asked, hand on her hip but wearing a knowing, soft grin. Peter, not bothering to feign shock, nodded solemnly and placed his pen down the paper. “You should think about maybe, oh I don’t know, actually giving her one of the letters you’ve written?” 

    Adamantly, Peter shook his head. “May, I could never. You don’t get it.” He swiveled around in the chair, spinning it until he was dizzy. “These letters are embarrassing. They’re practically my whole heart and soul on a piece of paper. She’d scream and run away if she read how I felt about her.” He sighed, placing his elbow on the edge of the desk and resting his cheek in his hand. He stared up at his aunt, still craving her sage advice. May stared back at him thoughtfully. 

   “Well, in my personal experience,” she came over and gave Peter’s shoulder a squeeze, eyeing the letter that was signed with Peter’s name, “girls are suckers for love letters. And you Parker men write the best ones out there. Trust me.” 

   Peter bit his lip. “Yeah, sure, I’m not an awful writer. But, I still can’t give them to her. I just can’t.” Before she could say anything else, he was folding it up and placing it on top of the shelf on his desk next to his books for English. “Uncle Ben was different. He was charming. You know that.” 

    May smiled wistfully. “I do.” 

    “And that’s one thing that I didn’t get from him,” Peter finished, shrugging his shoulders as he stood up from his swivel chair. “It’s fine.” He waved it off. “I’m happy suffering in silence. I’m gonna go to bed. Big English project starts tomorrow. Love you,” he kissed May on the cheek as she left his bedroom, switching the light off in her departure. He stared at the wall once he was situated in bed, mulling the conversation over in his head. Maybe May’s right. Maybe telling Y/N wouldn’t be as bad as I’m thinking. Maybe I’m overreacting. Actually, never mind. She probably hates me. Ugh. Life sucks. 


    That morning, when he arrived in his English class, you were sitting in the seat that had been previously occupied by Ned pretty much every class since the beginning of the school year. Sucking in a breath, Peter took his first step into the classroom. He knew he was a little late to today’s lesson, but he hadn’t realized he was a full fifteen minutes behind schedule. Ned was in the back with Michelle, giving Peter an encouraging thumbs up when he noticed his best friend finally arrive on the scene. Peter gave him the finger. 

   “Mr. Parker, lovely for you to join us!” Ms. Matthews declared when he decided to shove himself through the door, his heart jackhammering away in his chest and making its way up to his throat. He kind of wanted to throw up. 

   “Um, yeah, well, you know, sleep and whatnot- overslept, haha,” he coughed out a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. The teacher nodded with faux sympathy, though he could tell she didn’t care that much for his explanation. “I’ll just, um, sit. Down.” 

    “Next to Y/N, please,” She instructed, waving her hand in your direction. “Since you were late and unable to choose your own partner, surprising since usually Ned is so eager to work with you, Y/N offered to be your partner.” The teacher gave you a fond smile, as every teacher did. “She can explain the details of the assignment.” 

    Peter gave her a stiff nod before sliding into his chair, and you noticed how rigid he was as he turned toward you with a slight frown. He seemed extremely upset to be working with you, but you wouldn’t let that get in the way. You liked Peter. Really, truly liked him. He was a sweetie whenever he actually talked to and different than the rest of the guys at Midtown. He was genuine.  

    Giving him your full attention, you beamed at him. “Hey, Peter,” you said cheerfully. He gave you a small smile in return, wringing his hands under the desk. He couldn’t stop fidgeting. Your own smile dropped, which he noticed immediately and felt awful about. “Sorry you didn’t get paired up with Ned,” you continued, taking your books out of your shoulder bag. “I know you would’ve preferred it that way-” 

    “No!” He interrupted quickly, practically slamming his hands down on the desk so hard you jumped in your seat, eyes wide. “Sorry, sorry, I just, um,” he laughed a little, his cheeks burning, “I’m, um, happy to have you as a partner. Really, I am,” he added as an afterthought, just to make sure you knew. 

   Your shoulders relaxed as you looked at him. “You’re not just saying that, right? You seem awfully stiff,” you teased, poking his uncomfortably positioned arm as you quirked a brow. 

    “Do I?” He was practically sweating. 

     “I was just joking, Pete. It’s cute, anyway.” Peter’s eyes, a shade of brown that you had come to think of as warm as honey, went wide and he gaped at you, but you pretended not to notice. “So, for the assignment we have to write a short story based on one of the assigned reading books this year.” 

   She called me cute

   “Shit… I think I forgot all of mine,” you were mumbling, your head practically stuck in your bag. “Did your bring yours, Peter?” 

   Oh my god, she thinks I’m cute. She thinks I’m cute. I’m going to faint

   You snapped your fingers in front of his cherry red face, trying not to appear as amused as you felt. He blinked owlishly, an apologetic half smile, half grimace on his face. He was cute most of the time, but especially when he smiled, even if it was only a forced, awkward one. “Do you have your books, Peter?” You repeated kindly. 

    “Um, sorry, I’ll check,” he answered, embarrassed about his utterly obvious staring that had just occurred. He rummaged around in his backpack before realizing he had forgotten them, as well. He popped back up, curls in disarray as his head brushed against the fabric of his bag. “I forgot them, sorry,” he ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. It was kind of adorable.

   “You need to stop apologizing for everything, Pete,” you laughed. “It’s fine. We can get started after school. My place or yours?” You were already packing your things, and before he could think about what he was about to do, he said, “Mine.”   

    “Cool,” you grinned again, a grin that made him want to smile for the rest of his life. “Which one of is doing the writing? Or do you want to split it?” 

    “You’re a, um, fantastic writer,” he told you, having read your submissions to the school newspaper more times than he could count. “If you wanna take over, you can. I can edit and stuff.” 

    “Aw, I’m not that good,” you shook your head abashedly, looking down at your lap. “But thank you, Peter. I’m sure you’re great, too, though. Are you sure you don’t wanna write some of it?”

    “I’m not much of a writer.”


    So, you were in Peter Parker’s room. He was having his third heart attack of the day, and was incredibly grateful that he had managed to keep his wits about him for majority of the day. He had only tripped over his words five times, tripped literally twice, and dropped his Metro card once, but it was fine. You helped him back each time he fell with your usual grace, barely acknowledging his multiple social faux pas and only laughing once because he fell over a small dog- which even he would admit was pretty funny. 

   Still, his palms were sweaty around you and he didn’t know how he was going to survive working so close to you for the next week while the English assignment was occurring. He lead you into his apartment and you noticed that his hands were shaking slightly as he twisted the keys in the lock. You walked into the apartment, the first thing crossing your mind was how cozy and homelike it was. You liked it very much. 

   “It’s really cute in here,” you said, smiling around the room as Peter busied himself with a glass of water. He downed it quickly. “Where’s your aunt?” 

   “Work,” he replied, catching his breath after the gulping down of his water. “Here, let’s go to my room.” He placed his glass of water on the counter and motioned for you to follow him, opening the door to his room and wincing at the mess in there. “It’s a mess, sorry about that.”  

   You rolled your eyes at him playfully. “Didn’t I say stop apologizing?” You entered his room as if you had been there many times before, taking your shoes off and setting them by the door. You threw your bag on his bed and took a seat in his swivel chair, and he liked how natural it seemed for you to be in his room. He liked how comfortable you were, sitting there. Something about it made him happy. 

   “Yeah, my bad,” he shrugged. You tilted your head, pointing your finger at him while he raised his hands defensively. “It wasn’t technically an apology!” He took a step out of the room. He was finally being normal around you, he realized delightedly. He would still need more water, though. He could feel his mouth getting dry. “I’m gonna get more water. Want anything?” You shook your head, spinning around in the chair as he left. 

   Your eyes scanned over his desk, taking in every inch of Peter Parker’s life. He had bad books stacked everywhere, his desk was a mess, there were clothes thrown about the room. Star Wars posters, Avengers posters, notes scattered across the desk. You admired the artful messiness of it all. You leaned up to where his English books were, spotting the one you were most interested in and yanking it off the shelf. As you did, a folded piece of paper fluttered down off the shelf, just when Peter was walking back into the room. 

   “I thought you said you weren’t a writer, Pete,” you raised your eyebrows at him, holding the letter in your hand and waving it at him. 

   He almost threw up right there. “Um, I’m not, please give that back,” he reached for it, but you jumped out of the chair, raising the letter high in the air. “Y/N!” He whined, grabbing for it again. “C’mon, please,” he pleaded desperately, pouting at you with such intensity it almost made you want to give it to him. 

    “Can’t I just read a sentence, Peter?” You pushed out your bottom lip, batting your eyelashes at him. 

     He almost gave in. “No, Y/N. Seriously, give it back.” He sounded scared now, upset as well. You pursed your lips, handing it back to him. He was so anxious about you reading it that it dropped on the floor, opening far enough so that you could see your name scrawled across the top in Peter’s defining chicken scratch handwriting. 

    “That says my name, so now I have to read it.” You stood directly in front of Peter, hands pressed together in a pleading motion, the expression on your face so genuinely interested that he had to give it to you. He picked it back up with a lump in his throat and handed it over, scared as ever. But this was what May had advised. Maybe she’d be right. 

    “Dear Y/N,” you read aloud in a loud, terrible accent, glancing back up at Peter as you read the line after that. He was staring down at the floor, preparing himself for what you were going to say when you read the letter, read his heart. You sat in his chair, realizing it’d be better if you didn’t read it so publicly. He sat down on his bed, waiting. 

   Dear Y/N. This is maybe the tenth letter I’ve written to you, and each time I say the same thing, so if one day you are reading this in proper succession, I’m sorry for being so utterly repetitive. You’ll probably never read this, though. And that’s why it’s so easy for me to write. I think you’re the only person to ever truly be interested in me when I’m talking about science. Not even Ned has an attention span that long. But you do. And you don’t know how much I want to thank you for that. You make it really difficult to not like you, to not be in love with you. I think that’s what it is… love. And if I’m not in love with you yet, then I’m certainly falling for you. Who wouldn’t? You’re a wonderful person without trying, you’re a beautiful hurricane, a sunset on the horizon of my bleakest hours, and you make me feel as if I’ve been standing in the sunshine for my entire life. 

   You put the letter down, smoothing it over your lap. You didn’t need to read the rest. That was enough. Peter gazed at you now, the way you’ve yearned to be looked at before, and you shamed yourself for being so blind these past two years. He wasn’t simply just staring. He was looking. Admiring. You slid next to Peter, placing the letter behind you. He moved his hand, curling his fingers around yours tentative as ever. Your free hand grazed up the side of his face, toying with the hair on the back of his neck before resting on his cheek. He shut his eyes. When he opened them again, you were so close that he was able to count each individual eyelash that you had, every single fleck of pure beauty in your deep eyes. 

   “I like you very much, Peter Parker,” you murmured. He felt his heart soar, and then, he felt himself kiss you. It was an out of body experience. He was there, he was the one kissing you, the one who had initiated it, but it felt like he wasn’t. He was up in the clouds, too far lost in the way it felt to run his hands through your hair as he had always dreamed of to notice Aunt May sneaking past the door, overjoyed to see Peter finally with the girl he had been loving in silence for far too long. You pulled away from each other, eyes opening slowly and hesitantly and your lips practically still connected. 

   He wanted to tell her that he adored her, but Aunt May’s voice flowed from the kitchen too loud to overpower his thoughts. “You read her the letter, didn’t you? I told you it’d work! Worked for your Uncle Ben and I was right as I always am!”

   He jumped up from the bed, sticking his head out of the doorway and pressing his finger to his lips. “Maaaayyyy, you’re embarrassing me,” he whispered-yelled, practically whined. “You were right, okay? Thank you, let me go get a girlfriend now. The girlfriend.” She beamed at him, but no one’s smile could shine brighter than Peter’s. 

    He retreated back into the room, and you were clutching the letter in your hands. You looked up at him hopefully. “I was thinking that maybe you could read me the other nine letters. If you’re up for it.” 

    Peter couldn’t possibly say no, taking a page out of his Uncle Ben’s book the way he should have done in the first place as he found the hiding spot for the stack of letters he had been writing for the past few months, sliding them over to you and feeling confident for the first time in a long time.

Comfort Inn Ending | 1

“It was you who Jungkook gave his heart to- that is, until the day you broke it. And it is you now, hoping that some faultlines can be repaired, and that some broken hearts can be put back together again.”

pairing: jungkook x reader
genre: angst, smut
wordcount: 3,158
inspiration

part one two | three | four | five | six | seven

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The 1 Element Your Flawed Character MUST HAVE

If you’re a reader, you’ve probably experienced this before: you pick up a book, it seems pretty interesting, you nonchalantly decide to read it – “whatever, might be good” – and then … 

A paperback explodes life as you know it.  

Encountering a book like this can give life sudden clarity, it can change the way you look at the world, it can help you overcome something and grow, it can give you new purpose, it can inspire you to change your life, it can transform your future. By the time you’ve finished that book, it has become a part of your life – and will probably remain that way forever. (*Holds up my battered copy of Narnia as evidence*)

This magical experience is pretty much the ultimate goal for a reader. But if you’re a reader AND a writer, the fulfilling moment is inevitably marred by one depressing thought:  

“I’ll never write anything that good.”  

To which I say:

I beg to differ, little discouraging voice. With dedication and persistence, anyone can write a story that will be deeply meaningful to a reader. 

The trick? It needs to be deeply meaningful to the writer first. 

If a writer is going to give a reader a life-altering piece of knowledge, that means the writer already has that knowledge to give. We have all experienced things worthy of a story. We are all characters, journeying through arc after arc, becoming better or worse. From living these stories, we learn and see things more clearly, just as protagonists do. Which means we have something to say, something to write about, something to give. 

But to do so, we have to shoot for art.

The word art seems terribly vague, unattainable, and intimidating. But I don’t think it has to be. By “art” I’m going by the definitions given in two of my favorites quotes about writing (writing is art, so these apply): 

“Art is born when the temporary touches the eternal.” – G K  Chesterton

and

“…It is an art. It is the best of all possible art, a finite picture of the infinite.” – N D Wilson  

Both quotes state the same thing, in different ways. Art is about depicting and communicating something true, something universal, something everlasting about life and humanity, through something tangibly created. A definition which sounds an awful lot like the definition of metaphor: “a thing regarded as representative or symbolic of something else, especially something abstract.” Which sounds a lot like storytelling, because story IS metaphor. It’s life, condensed and magnified, all of its components there for a specific reason – to represent and convey some deeper meaning. So storytelling is naturally suited to being art. Which is good news for writers.

But it can also mean trouble. Storytelling is proven to be one of the most powerful teaching methods there is; a story actually has the power to get into someone’s head and heart and change everything, because to a reader’s mind the events on the page are actually happening. They’re living another life, a life that seeks to prove whatever the author wants to say. So writers have a responsibility to make sure the meaning of their story is true, morally and logically. 

BUT HOW DOES THIS ALL RELATE TO THE MAIN CHARACTER?!

Your main character is flawed, both in ways that only hurt themselves, and in ways that hurt others. These flaws are causing them to ruin their own lives. If they don’t awaken to this unwelcome truth about themselves, they will be lost. What happens to them over the course of the story, as they go after their singular goal, is going to apply pressure to these flaws until someone new – and most of the time, better – is made. The journey will teach them something, and that knowledge will enable them to overcome their weaknesses and forge a better life. 

And I bet you can guess what that story will teach them. That thing that is deeply meaningful for you, so meaningful you want to share it with readers? Yup, that’s what your main character is going to learn.

It’s going to be the SOLUTION to their inner problems. When it comes to characters, the meaning can be wrestled into three parts, adding up into one concise sentence. 

1) To achieve *a better state of being*

2) One must *moral and mental requirement*

3) Or else *the inner stakes*

To see how this works, let’s look at a fairy tale, the most straightforward example of this concept: 

Let’s see Cinderella (the live-action 2015 version). 

The meaning of the movie is summed up in this scene, and the story seeks to prove it throughout: 

“Have courage and be kind… It has power, more than you know. And magic.”

The story revolves around this notion, and everything seeks to represent it and prove it, in true Fairy Tale fashion.  

So in one line, that Ella’s arc proves: To achieve victory over abusers, one must hold onto their courage, kindness, and goodness no matter what – or else succumb and turn into someone like them. 

Exemplified in her last words to her stepmother, that truly defeat her forevermore:

So! Constructing these sentences can help give our flawed characters a destination to motor towards. Which makes writing their arcs much easier. And maybe we can construct a character arc and story that will become one of those magical reading experiences for a reader. And then, maybe one day, we’ll get letters from our reader, telling us exactly what our stories gave them and how it has saved their life in some small way (or maybe not so small way.) 

If finding a book like this is ultimate goal of a reader, I think getting a letter like that is the ultimate goal for a writer. 

Well, there’s my motivation. Time to go figure out what the heck I want my book to say. 

Bubble Bath with Negan

For Ash’s 2k writing challenge! As you can probably guess by the title, I chose the bubble bath prompt. I hope you all enjoy reading it, and let me know what you think! Also, I’m not sure why on some, the “keep reading” thing isn’t visible. So if you can’t see it, just go to my blog. The full post is there. 😉

Summary: Negan has been stressed out lately, so you decide to give him a night of relaxation… ;)

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, Swearing, Unprotected Sex.

Characters: Negan & You

Words: 1977

Originally posted by negandarylsatisfaction

Living at the sanctuary was usually great. Most everyone here got along pretty well, with the exception of a few ungrateful workers. As one of Negan’s wives, you had no right to complain. Life was pretty much as great as it could be, given the circumstances. Negan and the Saviors had found you in the woods one day, half out of your mind and very sick. They brought you back, gave you a place to stay, food, medicine, and well, exactly what it’s called. They gave you a sanctuary.

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Side Chick

*credit to gif owner. I was sent this

A/N: Also thank you to @iknowyoufeelme for helping me brainstorm a few ideas for this imagine.

   Calum was walking an appropriate distance in front of you as you discreetly trailed behind him. Your mood at the moment was not the happiest and you were trying to keep up with the tall boy as you two made your way to class. You knew the rules of being a side chick. Never interact in public especially when Calum’s girlfriend was around, never fall for the guy you’re sleeping with, and always keep things on the down low. You’ve heard of stories where things had gone wrong and you wanted to avoid that at all costs. Though you had a safety net. Being in the same class as Calum allowed you to talk to him in public, using class work as an excuse to talk with him outside of your hook up time. “Calum,” you timidly said, trying to get his attention and weaving through the crowd as you came up close behind him. “Calum,” you repeated, reaching out to pinch at his arm only for him to pay attention to your next words. “Are we going to the frat party tonight?” you asked. The words came out loud and Calum’s head whipped around, his eyebrow rose, and he gave you a once over. Then he turned back around and continued his trek to the 1pm class. It was the action he gave when he shrugged someone off which is what he had just done to you.

Your pace quickened and soon you were walking beside him. “It was a yes or no question so don’t shrug me off,” you said in a strong voice. Entering inside the building for the Psych 102 class. Calum glanced around at his surroundings before quickly pulling you under the staircase.

“I am going to the party, but not with you…look, Y/N don’t overstep your role. I have a girlfriend and this-” he gestured between the two of you, “This does not see the daylight. Only the darkness of your bedroom or the backseat of my car. Got it?” His words came out cold and you felt a chill run down your spine at the dark stare he was giving you. Calum’s eyebrows rose in question. You swallowed hard and nodded. 

“Got it,” you whispered, almost feeling your breath being sucked out of you as Calum left. Rule number three: don’t catch feelings. That was hard not to do. Sure you enjoyed the sex, but after hooking up with Calum so many times how could you not fall for him? His girlfriend was getting everything you wanted. Calum was emotionally and sexually available for her, but of course there had to be something wrong with his relationship if he was seeking sex from you. You waited a couple of minutes before walking out from under the staircase. Minutes later you entered the classroom and sat two rows and one spot away in front of Calum. No contact whatsoever. 

You chin rested in the palm of your hand as you scribbled down some notes that were written up on the slide. You felt yourself begin to doze off and your eyes landed on the clock rested above the whiteboard. A small groan left your lips as you realized there was still fifteen minutes left of class. Throughout the whole lesson your instructor had been rambling on about dreams connection to memory. You had gone into your own thoughts. Thinking mostly of Calum and how you felt about being in the situation that you were in. Your head tilted to the side and you took a glance at the Kiwi boy. Calum looked bored with the lesson. He was leaning back in his seat with crossed arms and an expression you couldn’t quite read. You felt a tap on your shoulder and your attention was brought to the person sitting next to you. You stared at the guy and your mind raced to place a name to the face. “Hey are you going to the Alpha Omega frat party tonight?” he asked. Eric Knight, you thought to yourself. The two of you had often talked, but it had never gone more then at least five sentences to one another.

“Uh maybe not. I have a ten page paper to write for English,” you lied. Truth was you had finished that paper three days ago, but you remembered Calum saying that he was going to be at the party with his girlfriend. Him being at the party with her meant that you couldn’t attend. Rule number six: never be in the same location as the main chick.

“Awe come on! You’re the life of the party without you there it’d just be bleh,” Eric smiled, playfully nudging you in the side. You chuckled at his words and shrugged your shoulders. 

“I’ll think about it,” you told him, “Not making any promises though.” Eric’s smile grew into a grin and he nodded at your words. His smile only made you smile.

“Well I hope you do come,” he last said, starting to pack his stuff up. You looked around and realized everyone else was also doing the same. Eric gave you a wave goodbye and left out the room. You smiled to yourself and began to pack up your stuff. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip and you shook your head to stop the thoughts that were running through your mind. Your conversations with Eric usually ended in that way. His charm rubbing off on you in a good way. He was always flirting with you and often times wanted to hang out. Though your small banters only stayed behind the classroom and at parties. 

Calum was leaning against the wall next to the door when you left the classroom. He’d never wait on you unless he was in the mood, but as you looked at him quizzically you could tell that wasn’t the case now. You didn’t allow him to say a word only brushing past him at a quick pace. Calum had told you to stay in your place and so that’s what you were going to do. “Don’t ignore me,” Calum said, his voice sounding raspy. His chest was pressed up against your back and for some reason the action made your core throb. Luckily for the both of you the hallway was packed as everyone was leaving the building or traveling to their next class. You kept quiet and waited for him to say something else. “What did Eric want?” Calum questioned, pinching at your hip. 

“He was asking if I was going to the party,” you told Calum. He let out a low chuckle at your words and without turning around you could already see him shaking his head. 

“You’re not going. I’m gonna be there with Ria remember,” he said, “I don’t want you anywhere near her.” You frowned at Calum’s words and let out a huff. Your social life basically didn’t exist anymore because Calum was always going to be at some party or event with his girlfriend. It irked you to the core and you knew your friends were starting to worry.

“I told him I wasn’t going, so cool yourself alright,” you snapped. Calum smirked at the reaction he got from you. His eyes scanning over your backside for a second. His hand reached out to grab your elbow and to make you stop walking. You let out a deep sigh and you turned to look at him. 

“Why don’t we sneak away to our little spot,” Calum suggested, wanting to take your mind off the party. “I can do that thing you wanted,” he smirked. You rolled your eyes and pulled away from his touch. 

“You have to meet Ria in five minutes and I’m hungry, so I think I’ll pass.” With that said you walked from him and headed towards the Dining Hall. As much as you wanted to feel Calum inside of you, you were also pissed off at him. In spite you had decided on going to the party. Just for one night you didn’t want to be Calum’s side chick. You wanted to enjoy yourself and who was he to tell you not to.

     Your friends hooted in happiness as you walked out your room dressed up for the party. “YOU LOOK HOT!” your best friend, Deandra, shouted. “Give me a twirl girl,” she said spinning her finger around. You laughed in delight and turned around to show them the back of your outfit. They cheered even more which only made you laugh harder. It had been a long time since you had gone out with the girls. Calum was the main reason for that. The only person that knew you were a side chick was Deandra. Though she didn’t approve of it you were still her best friend and she wasn’t going to love you any less. 

“Alright, alright let’s go before I completely back out of this idea,” you said, grabbing your phone from off the charger. Everyone began to leave your shared apartment and made their way out to the car. Deandra stayed behind with you and waited till the room was clear before speaking.

“Have fun tonight and please don’t let that ass-hat stop you from having a good time,” she said. You smiled at her words and nodded. The two of you left to catch up with the rest of the group. You were about to break rule number six. As long as you stayed a safe distance away from Calum and his girl you should be fine.

Music was blasting loud in your ears and the smell of alcohol instantly hit you as you entered the frat house. You smiled at the sight in front of you; a crowd of diverse people all having fun, drinking, and dancing. You had missed the party scene it almost felt like you were home and a warm feeling of comfort slid down your spine. You followed your group of friends, weaving through everyone until you made it into the kitchen. One of your friends grabbed a cup from off the counter and picked up a bottle of alcohol. “Ladies let’s toast to commemorate Y/N for finally leaving her damn apartment and joining us once again on a party night!” she said, raising the bottle high in the air. You rolled your eyes at her words and raised your empty cup in the air with everyone else. 

“Well let’s party then!” you shouted, earning cheers from everyone that was in close proximity of your group. You laughed loudly and grabbed the bottle of alcohol from your friend, pouring it in your cup, and mixing it with some soda. Everyone dispersed and you found yourself joining a group of people watching a game of beer pong. You sipped on your drink and turned away from the game to scan over the room. Not too far away you spotted Calum with his own group of friends. His arm was draped around Ria and whispering in her ear about something. He hadn’t noticed you yet which was good. 

“You came!” a familiar voice yelled. You turned around to see Eric. He had changed into a button down shirt and jeans. His light brown hair hidden underneath a snapback just a few strands of it poking out. Your eyes lit up and you embraced him in a hug.

“Yeah I thought why not have some fun ya know,” you said, pulling away from him. “Who did you come with?” you asked, feeling Eric’s hand grab yours and pull you away from the game. 

“I came with a few of the guys. They’re somewhere around probably out back,” Eric said loud enough for you to hear. “What about you?” he asked, pulling you into a corner of the living room.

“I came with my friends too,” you told him, back pressed against the wall as you leaned against it. “It’s been a while since I last came to one of these,” you admitted raising the cup up to your lips. Eric nodded at your words and his arm draped over your shoulder. He pointed over to a crowd of people and brought your attention to it.

“Well one thing you’ve missed is that now there are bets placed on how long some of the guys can stay up on the beer keg,” he explained, “My bets on Cooper over there. So far he’s won by ten minutes.” You laughed at the news and then scrunched your face up. 

“Uh I’m not one for gambling,” you chuckled, looking over to him. Eric nodded at your words and instead pulled you towards the center where everyone was dancing. Eric began to shimmy around in his spot and rocked his hips to the music.

“I know you can dance beautiful, so show me what you got!” he yelled making everyone’s attention land on the two of you. You began to laugh and started to dance to the music. Your favorite song came on and Eric pulled you into him. You turned around and began to grind into him, feeling his hands land on your hips. It had been such a long time since you had let loose and the alcohol running through your veins only elevated your experience. It all seemed to end quickly when you caught Calum’s eye. He was in the middle of kissing Ria, but his eyes were trained on you. Your shook your head and tried to focus on the hot guy you were dancing with. Calum’s stare was making you uncomfortable and you turned around to face Eric. “Are you okay?” he asked, noticing your smile had faded. 

“Yeah. Hey do you want to go somewhere?” you questioned, jutting your thumb over your shoulder towards the exit. You were both swaying to the music now and Eric nodded. You could still feel Calum’s stare and you shifted in your spot. “I’m kinda craving some Mickey D’s fries and I believe I saw one down the street,” you explained, “So I was thinking maybe we could leave the party for a bit and do a quick food run.” Eric looked down at his feet and a small smile embraced his face. 

“That actually sounds like a great idea,” he said, his hand sliding down your arm and interlocking your fingers together. He pulled you towards the door and you both made your way to the McDonald’s that was down the street. It was a bit chilly out as the both of you walked and continued to talk some more. “Can I admit something though?” Eric asked after a while as your laughter died down. You nodded and went quiet as you waited for what he had to say. Instead he held the door open for you and you walked into the fast food restaurant. You were still a bit on edge from Calum’s staring and the fact that Eric hasn’t told you what he wanted only increased it. “Two large fries and two sweet teas,” he said, pulling out his wallet to pay. Once you got your order, you both went to find a seat. 

“So what did you want to admit?” you giggled in a teasing tone, sliding into a booth that was in the back corner. Eric slid in next to you, his arm resting over your shoulder. You began to munch on the salty treat and turned in your spot to give him your undivided attention.

“I’m glad you came tonight because it gives me the opportu-”

“Y/N! Eric!” the familiar voice exclaimed. You let out a groan and looked up to see Calum. Ria was latched onto his arm and his three best friends were behind him. “Didn’t expect to run into the two of you here,” he smirked. You rolled your eyes and Calum pointed at the empty space inside the booth. “Mind if we join you?” he questioned. You could see the look in Calum’s eyes and knew what was happening. He was jealous. The type of jealous that made you question just exactly where the two of you stood in your “relationship.”

decisions

summary; shawn is forced to choose between you and his girlfriend
a/n; seven pages of angst and drama all in one – my fav ;))

PART ONE

MASTERLIST || REQUEST


“Where’s Shawn?” Matt and your friends asked you for what must’ve been the tenth time tonight. 

You finished setting the last blanket over the couch as you claimed your favorite pillows for the night ahead of you. 

“Not sure,” You answered. “I’ve tried texting him for the past 15 minutes. The boy never checks his texts,” You laugh it off as you head to the kitchen to bring the two bowls of popcorn into the living room.

Shawn, Geoff, Ian, and Matt had been in town from Shawn’s tour for the last few days, and the five of you finally found a time to hang out again. You had all missed each other and since the tour had just wrapped up, everyone found tonight as the perfect opportunity to catch up. You had met the four boys through Shawn and although you had only known them for a few years, they felt like your brothers. They looked out for you and talked to you almost every day.

Shawn on the other hand, had been your best friend since middle school. The two of you met in English class in seventh grade and quickly bonded over each other’s love for Harry Potter and music. Although neither of you were the most popular in school, you and Shawn always had each other’s back through the years. He had brought smiles on your face during your worst moments, stayed up late with you during nights you couldn’t sleep, and given you advice that has stuck with you throughout the years. In turn, you supported Shawn’s music when the other kids at school didn’t, listened to his first song that he wrote, and cheered with him when he found out that he had just gotten his first major award show nomination. Now here you guys were, one year out of high school, and still partners in crime. You couldn’t of asked for anyone better to fill in the position as your best friend.

Everyone had gathered at Ian and Geoff’s place for a traditional movie night, but your best friend had been a no-show for the past half hour. Everyone including yourself was beginning to become impatient as everyone began making a dent into the stash of snacks before the first movie even played. You didn’t want to begin the night without him, but he had showed no signs of arriving any time soon.

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Mister Hockey and the boy crying in the kitchen

(complete version)

Alternate Universe where Bitty is a figure skater at Samwell. He and Jack meet for the first time at #Epikegster 2014.

warning labels: Alcohol, mentioned homophobia, Parse. 


 Jack went down the stairs with a huff of annoyance. The first floor of the Haus was packed from wall to wall. Loup thumping music, laughter and yells that were barely tolerable from his room now seemed almost tangible, crushing him from all sides. He could already feel the beginnings of a headache.

 He pushed his way through and managed to reach the kitchen unscated. Only three guys were sitting at the table, loudly debating Plato’s cavern versus the Matrix, and another was leaning on the counter near the stove, muttering to himself.

Jack opened a cupboard, swore under his breath when he saw that it was empty of their usual mugs, glasses and bottles. He took a new red solo cup from the enormous pack available to all, and filled it with tap water, trying to ignore the guys at the table.

 ‘…aren’t you the most precious thing, baby…’

 Jack turned around. The guy next to the oven was muttering endearments with a southern drawl- but there was no one next to him. He wasn’t even holding a phone.

 Jack had a doubt. Was the guy talking to him?

 ‘Yes, you are lovely, a bit old, but I would love you, and take care of you, and create glorious things with you, oh sweetheart, if only…’

 The guy was not talking to Jack. He was talking to the oven.

 He was also, apparently, completely drunk.

 ‘… better things than pizza rolls, you can be sure of that, you sexy thing…’

 Jack was a moment away from heading back to his room when he heard a sob.

 ‘… but it’s not to be, pretty thing, you and I will have to go our own separate ways and- sniffle- get with our own lonely lives and - oh lord, I’m being ridiculous-’

 ‘Huh-’ started Jack. ‘Are you okay?’

 The guy turned around. He looked older than Jack expected. At least, he seemed to be over eighteen. Jack only had an impression of eyes and blond before he got the drunkest and fakest smile he ever saw in his life.

 ‘HI!’ said the boy. ‘Gosh, you’re big.’

‘… are you okay?’ repeated Jack.

 ‘Why, yes, of course! I’m peachy!’

 ‘You’re crying.’

 The guy seemed surprised by this fact. He dried his tears with the sleeve of his hoodie and made a dismissive gesture with his other hand.

 ‘Don’t mind me, sweetheart, I’m being silly.’

 ‘…You were crying,’ insisted Jack. ‘And talking to the oven.’

 ‘Well, no one else seemed to give her love, so I figured-’

 He stopped himself and looked at Jack.

 ‘You’re the Captain of the hockey team,’ he realised. ‘This is your house. This is your oven.’

 ‘…Yes? In a manner of speaking?’

 ‘What’s her name?’

 ‘Whose name?’

 ‘The OVEN,’ insisted the guy.

 ‘She- it doesn’t have a name?’

 ‘Blasphemy. If I had the chance to own such a lovely baby, I would name her something adorable! Like Daisy, or Betsy, and I would bake everyday, I would make pies and cookies and biscuits and-’

 He burst into tears.

 Jack threw a look around. The guys at the table were staring at them.

 ‘Dude, what’d you do to him?’

 ‘Nothing!’

 ‘D’you break up with him or something?’

 ‘No! We just met! He was talking about the oven- and then- and then-’

 He made a helpless motion towards the crying boy.

 ‘Maybe you should do something about it?’ suggested one of them.

 ‘Like what?’

 ‘Dunno. Something. To make him stop crying.’

 Jack hesitated. He thought about retreating to the safety of his room, where the music didn’t hurt his ears and blonde strangers didn’t burst into tears at the sight of a kitchen appliance.

 Awkwardly, he lifted a hand and patted the guy’s shoulder.

 ‘…there, there,’ he muttered, feeling like the most ridiculous man on Earth.

 He got several thumbs ups from the table residents. Which didn’t help his predicament at all. The boy was still crying.

 ‘Hey, hey, shh, don’t cry, everything is going to be okay…’

 ‘You don’t know that!’ wailed the blonde boy.

 ‘Okay, you’re right. Maybe, huh, what could make it right?’

 ‘I want to BAAAAAAAAAKE!’


(more under the cut!)

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@kinfirms​ tagged me in a post talking about how internet “mom” culture is toxic, (I saw your tags, dont worry <3) and wanted to talk about it a little, but without the queer phobic language it was giving off.

For the most part, I fully and readily agreed with parts of the post detailing how adults can and do behave inappropriately in online spaces towards minors, and how the parental name thing can be a power move. 

I grew up with a lot of fandom “mom” types, who with hindsight, turned out to be rather toxic and predatory. One of them actually took great joy in being a “corrupting” force, and would make lewd jokes and inappropriate comments towards us. And us being vulnerable kids who wanted to fit in and belong went along with it, because it made us feel special to be talked to like we were fellow adults. 

Except we weren’t fellow adults and nor were we being treated as such. We were impressionable youths being treated like toys to stroke an older person’s ego, and that was 110% not okay, and those adults should have known better not to engage with us on those topics.  

I’m hyper aware of being an older person in certain groups now, and try to act accordingly. I try to distance myself while managing to remain encouraging and supportive and hopefully, a positive signifier that people like me can and do grow up into happy (semi-)functional adults. I know there were times growing up when I feared I would not.

I will also never insist that anyone call me “mom”. It’s not a name I picked for myself. It’s an honorific deserving of great respect and mindfulness towards those who gave it to me, not the other way around. People can use it if they want to, and I will respond to it if people use it, but it’s not a role or title or sign of authority, and it’s 100% up to others if they want to use it or not, I don’t mind either way. And just for the record, I also respond to Aunt, Sister, Cousin, Bib, or even my rarely used actual name, Joy :)

I work very hard to respect the boundaries of others, and adhere to my own rules of interaction. I don’t follow back anyone under the age of 18 (with very few exceptions), and I always try to ensure the age of someone when they start talking to me about certain things. 

Most of the people calling me “mom”? Seem to be in their early 20s, chronically ill or queer like me, and or at college age and going through that weird panicked stage of “help, I need an adultier adult how the heck do you make a food budget” so it’s not too much of a problem, but I still take those extra steps anyway. 

I tag my work, I put it under cuts and generally make it known that I don’t want anyone under the age of 18 to read my 18+ work, because it’s the responsible adult thing to do—and it’s my responsibility to lay down those terms. Not the minor. 

If a minor ignores my requests, my tags and the numerous other steps I put in the way to keep my NSFW work hidden? That’s on them, and I can only hope they find it positive and maybe possibly affirming as well—just don’t tell me about it. (I speak from experience, as a minor who went onto 18+ forums looking for something that would show I wasn’t alone with my thoughts and feelings. I found acceptance in queer fanfic that society and family otherwise denied. I wasn’t awful for liking both Superman and Louise Lane, I wasn’t awful and wrong or alone for not being sure if I wanted to be Princess Leia or be with her. And that was very important for 15 year old me, even if it would take another 15 years for me to feel safe enough to tell others.)

When people started calling me “mom” of their own volition, I had a real internal debate over how I felt over using that same moniker others had used before me, and done so in a harmful manner. I wasn’t too keen on it at first, it felt weird, but when people kept on using it without me prompting them to, I came to the decision that hey, it’s just a fun nickname poking fun at my personality, so I just kinda rolled with it. But I also made the conscious decision that if I was going to allow for that nickname, I would strive very hard to be worthy of it and be the adult I needed as a young person, and not like the people I had known.

But that all said? Not all adults take this mindset, and do not behave appropriately towards teenagers and young adults, and you should absolutely be wary of anyone who puts themselves in that position of authority.* It makes me extremely uncomfortable when I see other adults talk about younger people as their “minions” or pets. 

They are not. 

They are people who are deserving of your fundamental respect and often looking for some sort of help or guidance from a role model they lack in real life, or even just want friendly people to talk to about the things they love. They are not there to prop up your ego. Don’t do that shit. Reflect on your own behavior and say “if this was my child, would I be happy about the way I am interacting with them?” 

If the answer is “no” or “I’m not sure”, that’s also a no, and you need to back the fuck off and reevaluate how you interact with others as a whole.

If you are in a fandom or online forum space where the adults are not behaving mindfully of your age, undermine you, or insist on inserting themselves in your life as an authoritarian parental figure? Go with your gut instinct and get the fuck out of dodge. 

You are no one’s minion. You are you, with your own boundaries and levels of comfort. Don’t let anyone try to take them from you or make you feel bad for being uncomfortable with their behavior. That’s a common tactic used by abusers, and if you say to someone “what you are doing makes me uncomfortable” and their response isn’t “I’m sorry, how can I change that?”, but defensive anger or guilt tripping you? Fuck ‘em. There are other groups, other people to talk to. Make your own if you have to. Block anyone that makes you feel uncomfortable. You don’t have to put up with that bullshit to prove your own maturity or worth.


*And just because I feel this is important to say: please question me. Challenge me, point out when I say or do something that makes you feel uncomfortable. I won’t be mad or offended. I welcome corrective feedback. Tell me if I use an out dated term or if I word something poorly so I can apologize, reevaluate my behavior and try to change for the better. I’m human and therefore always learning and making mistakes, but they come from a place of ignorance, never malice. Take care of yourselves out there <333