something's off but i cant put my finger on it

i always like to think of sylveon as something vaguely unsettling.

its really pretty, but maybe a bit too pretty. a bit too perfect. you notice the teeth seem a bit too sharp, its eyes a bit too bright. its smile seems a bit more than genuine. 

it is a bit uncanny how perfect it is, but you cant quite put your fingers on it. you have the off feeling its beauty hides something more… dangerous, but you quickly discard the thought. its sparkly smile and flowy ribbons and soft fur draws you towards it. sylveon cant be evil, right?

you come closer.

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baby-sigil-maker  asked:

So today my therapist dismissed my executive dysfunction. I was explaining it, saying that I wanted to put a closed computer i was done with away, but I just couldnt move that single inch. I used the comparison of the fact you can bite off your finger, but your brain says dont, so you cant. Executive dyspuntion is kinda the same. I can do the task, I want to do the task, but my brain says no. She said I just dont want it enough then.

I HATE THAT. And yes, I have had professionals say this to me. I asked once about working on my writing—something I have wanted since I was a child but struggle with due to executive dysfunction—in a webinar with someone who supposedly knows how to help with doing things, and got tossed the same old lines about fear of success and not really wanting it. THAT IS NOT IT. I’ve explored both possibilities enough at this point (because once upon a time I did an AWFUL LOT of navel-gazing), and I know what I want out of life and I simply struggle to make it happen.

If you want to try and educate your therapist, Russell Barkley’s YouTube lecture on ADHD and intention is fantastic and explains this aspect of executive dysfunction really well.

-J

Professor!Barry

Pairing: Barry Allen x Reader

Reader Request: yeS

Summary: Mr. Allen is Y/N’s adorable teacher assistant

Warning: This is more of a teachers assistant/student relationship but If you are weirded out by anything to that extent, (which I by no means endorse or encourage irl) then please don’t read this! Read one of my other Barry Allen imagines instead!

A/N: Sorry for the wait! I was going to post this last Saturday but then I had to wake up early for a competition and that literally took up my entire day and my week was crazy but I’m back and I hope this will make up for everything! This is unedited

“Good morning students, I hope you took the liberty of reading all the designated chapters this weekend because we are going to jump right into our lesson! Who here can tell me-?” Professor Wells rambled on from his place at the front of the room. In the top corner of the room you sat perched at the edge of your seat trying to listen in on his lecture as students laughed and spoke freely to one another around you. You hated being one of the only students to genuinely care for your education because other people looked at you like you were some major buzzkill. You weren’t a genius by any means you just had goals for yourself and the drive and dedication to reach them. You worked your ass off day and night to not only keep up with your academics but the mortgage on your apartment. Through work and school you never really had time to fulfill the whole “college experience” of drinking and partying until you cant see straight.

 “Now believe it or not, with all the new additions to my program grading and teaching has become an increasingly hard task to manage thus I have decided to finally get a teachers assistant. Everyone meet Mr. Allen!”

“Really, you can call me Barry.” A deep voice grinned from the front of the room. Mr. Barry Allen was about 6′2 his eyes were a lush green and his soft dark hair slicked to the side. He was a tall lean man in his early 20′s, probably fresh out of college himself and perched on his nose was a delicate pair of spectacles.

“Oh nonsense, my students will refer to you as Mr. Allen.” Professor Wells encouraged his voice kind but final.

***

It had been two weeks since Mr. Allen had started working for Professor Wells and you had already taken a liking to him. The way he spoke so freely and insightfully and the gorgeous fluidity of his voice. Some days he taught lectures, other days he just sat at the back of the room grading papers and tests. He generally liked your essays, he’d draw little smiley faces at the bottom and leave sweet messages, but on one particular essay he had left you nothing. It had been a hard essay for you to write, it was late notice and you were entirely unprepared for the prompt. To this day you were confused about its content and had asked if one of your professors could help you further understand the concept at hand. Naturally, Mr. Allen was free and offered to help.

“This was always my best subject, plus I’ve already read your essay so it saves lots of time!” He had defended when you first came asking for some sort of tutoring.

“Fine!” You giggled deciding to give in. You knew Barry, er Mr. Allen, was an exceptional writer and teacher and had no real reason to deny his offer. He quickly led you to the backroom for a more private studying session, pulling out a chair for you in front of his desk before diving into the lesson at hand.

He smiled at me his eyes twinkling as my breathe caught in my throat. A small gasp passed through my lips and his eyes immediately turned to that of worry, “Are you alright, Miss Y/N?”

“Fine. I’m fine.” You whispered your heart racing in your chest as you tried to ignore the blush filling your cheeks.

“Are you sure, miss? If you aren’t feeling well we can always talk about your paper another time-?”

“Sorry I just got a bit distracted, please go on!”

He did a once over of you to ensure you were truly okay before smiling and continuing. His voice was low and melodic, the passion in his voice sending shivers down your spine as you slowly began to understand the concept more. Every once in a while his hand would brush yours in an effort to flip a page or retrieve a utensil, in which he’d immediately freeze up, stuttering out an apology before he continued his lectures.

“Let me go grab something from the back!” He announced trying to show you a visual model of what he was describing to help you better visualize it. Somewhere in the process of getting up he tripped into you sending you both tumbling to the floor. His glasses fell off as the two of you landed bodies intertwined on the floor.

“I-I’m so sorry about that Y/N I’m such a clutz I cant see a thing without my glasses-” He stuttered as you giggled reaching out for his glasses.

“Here you are, Ba-, Mr. Allen” you smiled as you tried to get up, a pretty tricky task with a grown man on top of you.

“Oh I’m so sorry where are my manners?” He flushed red hot his hands shook as he jumped up, reaching down to pull you into him. With a bit too much force may I add, as you went flying into his chest bracing your hands on his biceps.

He blushed pulling away and heading towards the supply closet as he whispering under his breathe, “I’m the one in charge now and I still manage to screw up in front of the pretty girl.”

Countless documentaries, written sources, and hands on demonstrations later and you finally understood the lesson. Barry was so proud when you figured it out and the excitement on your face was the most adorable thing he had ever seen.

“Thank you so much Mr. Allen! This means the world to me!” 

He leaned in close looking around discreetly as if he were about to share some secret life-shattering information with you, “You know y/n your papers are my favorite to read. There is something about your writing that just fully captivates me; the way you can turn a simple essay into a living breathing masterpiece is beyond me!”

You couldn’t hide the evident blush on your cheeks as you thanked him for his kind words. You always put extra effort into your essays when you knew he was grading it, but you would have never truly suspected he might notice.

“Your writing isn’t the only mesmerizing thing about you.” He added as he began to clean off his desk, preparing to leave for the day.

“What do you mean?” You questioned your voice trembling slightly as your mind raced with possibilities. He slipped in front of you, his tall lean frame blocking your view of the door as he gazed down upon you with such intensity and confliction you were afraid to look away.

“Well there’s something about you, Y/N. Something I cant put my finger on but it allures me all the same.” He leaned in close his lips barely grazing yours, his hands trembling as they brushed through your hair, before he quickly pulled away.

“I shouldn’t be doing this!”

“Or maybe you should..?”