stick out like a sore thumb

Talk To Me (Newt-TMR)

The Glade was busy today, everyone going about their own business. You were keeping yourself occupied by cutting some vines, humming to yourself as you went. Whilst you worked, a couple of other gladers walked by, giving you strange looks. You gave them a small smile which was not reciprocated, causing you to sigh.

You had been in the Glade for a while now but you still didn’t feel like you belonged. Everyone seemed to have some kind of connection with others but you appeared to stick out like a sore thumb. The only one who showed you some friendliness was Newt.

You liked Newt. A lot. But him being second in command, he didn’t have much spare time. There had been one evening when you had sat outside alone, staring at the walls of the maze, and he had found you. The two of you had conversed for a while but that was pretty much it. You wished you had a stronger relationship with him.

You were beginning to grow tired but you didn’t stop working, in fact you worked harder. If you stopped for too long, you would over-thinking and that was never good. So you powered through, ignoring the fatigue creeping up on you.

After the vines were cut, you moved on to bringing boxes of supplies inside. They were heavy but you convinced yourself you could manage. You made it just inside when the exhaustion became too much and you dropped the box, collapsing to the ground. You suddenly felt completely helpless and tears began spilling down your cheeks.

“Y/N?” You heard a voice from behind you and you looked up. Newt was standing behind you, his face etched with concern. You turned away from him, ashamed. He came over to you and knelt beside you. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t reply, refusing to look at him. He sighed.

“Come on, Y/N. Talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say? That I don’t belong here? Fine, I said it. There you go.”

“What are you talking about? Of course you belong here. The Glade wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“That’s really not how it feels to me.”

“I know it might seem like people don’t get you. But we’re kind of like a family. We have each other’s backs. And I care about you more than you know.”

“Really?”

He nodded and wiped the tears from your cheeks. “Yep.”

“Thanks, Newt,” you laughed lightly and he pulled you into a hug. For the first time you felt like you belonged.

Sometime in the future...

…when Dex realizes he’s not poor anymore.

“can we get a headboard, too?”

Dex hated that voice. It was a voice he hadn’t heard come out of his mouth in a long time, since before him and Nursey got married, before they graduated, before he started seeing a therapist. It was a voice that said, ’a no would break me’ underneath the real words of his question.

It was how he used to ask for hugs, and how he asked, three months into their fuck-buddy relationship, for Nusey to please stay the night, just once, nobody ever stays.

Nursey gave him a long, appraising look, but Dex knew he wouldn’t ask why, all of a sudden, Dex sounded so unsure of himself. Just like Dex knew, eventually, he’d tell Nursey why something so silly as a headboard was so important to him.

He gave a small smile instead, kissed Dex’s cheek, and said, “That’s chill.”

They got out of their truck, a purchase that Nursey made without Dex because he knew his husband could never justify the price to himself, even though they could afford it a hundred times over. Between Dex’s NHL salary and Nursey and Lardo’s line of children’s books, there wasn’t really anything they couldn’t afford.

Which is why Dex hated how small and broken his voice sounded when he asked if they could buy a headboard.

With the new contract Dex signed, finally featuring a no trade clause, they decided to buy a house. Nursey went all out; he spent weeks touring places, picking out furniture, and giving Dex the silent treatment (apparently ‘whatever you want’ isn’t the right answer). The only thing left was a new mattress.

They saved it specifically for a week when Dex didn’t have any scheduling conflicts. He tried to tell Nursey that it was fine, he could go ahead and buy one without Dex there, but he refused, insisting that a mattress was an individual experience, both of them had to agree.

They both knew that, in the end, Dex wouldn’t have an opinion. A bed was a bed to him, and any bed was better than no bed. It felt nice to have a full day with his husband, though.

They stood in front of a huge mattress store, and for some reason, Dex felt uncertain. There was something about this, buying a bed, that made everything real to him. He was an adult. He was well off financially. And he was about to walk into a store hand in hand with his husband. And he was happy.

He wasn’t the angry kid from Maine, anymore.

A saleswoman nearly a foot shorter than the couple (call me Cici!) dragged them all over the store, practically pushing them down on mattresses and asking about their firmness. She asked about hteir opinon on memory foam versus tempurpedic, about fabrics and springs and coils and all sorts of questions Nursey has answers for that Dex can’t make heads or tails of.

He zones out a bit, but jumps back into the conversation when the topic of temperature comes up (so, are you two warm blooded or do you use a lot of blankets at night?). He had no idea that they made some mattresses cooler than others, but yes they wanted to try those out, because his husband is a furnace and the three stupid cats Nursey snuck home were like little fuzzy ovens.

So, they go to the other side of the store and try out hybrids (of what, Dex really couldn’t say). Without even trying it out, Nursey pointed at one of the set-ups and declared, “it’s going to be this one.” Dex had to admit that it was pretty comfortable. He didn’t feel like he was sinking into the mattress, which was nice.

Nursey clamored on top, cuddling into Dex’s side with a smug grin. “Told you it was this one.”

Still grinning, Nursey asked Cici, “Can you show us some headboard options?”

There was an entire room of them. Bed frames and headboards and footboards. Big quilted ones that Dex thought would go great in his baby sister’s princess room, studded leather ones, wrought iron frames that looked a little too bondage for Dex’s comfort.

Dex wasn’t sure what his face was doing, but  Cici told them quietly that she would give them a few minutes to look around, even though she had been attached at to their side for the hour they had been in the store.

They wandered around, looking at all the choices. Dex knew he held Nursey’s hand a little too hard, but Nursey didn’t say anything. He let Dex take the lead, inputting his opinion but never tryng to influence Dex, never pushing him to talk about it.

They made two circuits of the room before stopping (for the second time) in front of a simple padded headboard. It wasn’t anything fancy, just smooth, cream colored fabric. Dex ran a finger over the display. It was softer than it looked.

“I don’t understand headboards. Or footboards. They’re totally pointless.”

In the past, that may have been an invitation for Nursey to chirp Dex, to ask what the hell they were doing buying one if Dex thought it was pointless. But after so many years together, Nursey knew Dex needed to talk it out, not have a conversation.

“Did you know that before I went to Samwell, I never slept in a real bed?”

“I didn’t, babe.”

Dex never took his eyes off the headboard. “For a while I had a matress thrown on the floor in me and Adam’s room, but then I gave it to Hannah and I started sleeping on some sleeping bags on the floor. I told myself it was like camping. Even when I imagined my house, I never imagined a having a real bed. What’s the piont of buying something that’s totally pointless? It’s just a waste of money.”

Nursey ran a warm hand up and down Dex’s back. Dex rarely talked about his childhood. It was one of the only things they still faught about sometimes: Nursey taking their money for granted and Dex not being able to accept that he can spend money when he wants to.

“But we can buy this. We can buy something that’s totally pointless, just because I want it.”

It wouldn’t match the room, even a little bit. The whole house was stark greys and bright whites, accents of bright colors. The cream fabric would stick out like a sore thumb. It was meant for a softer house. There was something about it that Dex like, though. He couldn’t put his finger on what, exactly, but he loved it.

“What do you think?”

Nursey didn’t bother to look away from Dex when he answered. “I think it’s great, babe. It’ll look good in the bedroom.”

Dex gave him a hard look. “really.”

“Okay, no. but if you like it, then I couldn’t care less.”

And just like that,they bought it. And later that night, in their brand new bed, in their house (their house, not a house they were renting), Dex slept better than he could ever remember sleeping.

Defects (M)

Muses: jungkook x reader
Genre: Angsty angst angst
Warning: mentions of cheating, sex (it’s all over the place) and plain old defect in the soulmate system.
Words: 4.1k
Note: Wrote all this Jungkook’s cover, Beautiful, a Goblin OST is on replay.

Concept: Every time you meet your soulmate, your pocket watch will start counting down the time you have with them until you part. For the amount of time you’re away from each other, whether it’s a month, a day, or just hours, the time is at a pause as your watch stares back at you with unmoving hands on the 12th hour. When you meet again, the countdown restarts.

Summary: Your watch comes alive in Jungkook’s presence, but often time, never as long as you will it to be no matter how hard you pray to the fates. The moments with him are fleeting and brief like the akin-to magical seconds you spend watching the cityscape buzz to life on nights you can’t sleep - nights Jungkook isn’t there to kiss your worries away and disappear like the wind blowing through cities at the break of dawn. When your the hands on your watch stills with glaring zeroes, you know where he’s at, you know who he’s with - he goes back to her, the woman who his time starts and ends with.

Originally posted by nnochu

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2

Because who doesn’t love drawing Gugu Mbatha-Raw as a Disney princess? ;)

Also because Belle’s updated ballgown for the live-action film is pretty enough, but also…baffling. I understand that it’s supposed to make Belle “look like a modern woman” which feels like producer code for “make it marketable because we don’t trust 5-17 year-old-girls to appreciate the style of anything more than 5 years old herp derp der” but anachronistic style aside, it barely draws inspiration from the original dress, and perhaps more importantly, it doesn’t mesh with the rest of the film’s costume design. I’m loathe to place too much blame on the costume designer because the other costumes in the movie are pretty great, a fun stylistic storybook-take on 18th-century garb–ain’t nuttin wrong with that! But whether the designer made some odd choices on their own or these issues are the product of executive meddling, I feel like Belle got shortchanged in almost all of her dresses; surely there are more coherent and consistent ways to set her apart from the crowd without making her stick out like a sore 21st-century-prom-dress thumb. Not to mention that kids LOVE elaborate poofy princess dresses–why take that away from them? So here’s a poofy sparkly damn Belle gown for those of us who missed it!

(”But MBB,” you may say; “Your dress is no better! Its lack of sleeves is an egregious anachronism for the rococo period and her bare arms offend mine sensibilities!” To which I say “GUESS WHAT TURDBAGS IT COMES WITH SLEEVES TOO”)

/end rant

•A JOURNAL ENTRY: WHAT IS IT REALLY LIKE TO LIVE WITH DEPRESSION?•

i wouldn’t exactly call it living. more like surviving… i look at the environment surrounding me, memories lie tattered in my brain. a life i want to believe was once so full and fruitful has become unthinkably dull. my own eyes were once baby blue but have since faded to an iridescently eerie gray. im hurting. it hurts. im not lying.

i would tell you that you don;t understand- but i;ve begin to notice that everything can only be interpreted in relation to other things or feelings. and this is the only thing ive come to recall feeling. this ethereal delicate coldness within my core, shaking and rattling my bones, consuming my every feeling of functionality. im clearly broken beyond repair- yet i aimlessly crave fixture.

i am light with awful lightness. my blood is mud and my bones are brittle. my thoughts freely cascade within my mind, setting fire to all of my precious sensibilities . any meager ration of purpose and hope is replaced by these fucking reminders that i am truly and entirely 113% alone in this.

at one point, i wanted help. i went to therapy once a week- on bad weeks i went twice. i convinced myself that the glass was half full. i made the most out of everything- and in the process, i made a fool of myself.

i spoke out. i cried for help. i wrote it in books, on forums, i would have carved the words “help me” into my damn skin on my damn forehead if i thought for one minute that anybody was listening.

and i know you’re listening if you’re reading this. but are you really reading this? are you reading me? can you feel the pain in the tips of my fingers, in the ends of my hair, in the blood in my veins, in the staggering cry of my voice at 2 in the morning- an ugly face soaked in the tears resulting from years of utter and complete destruction and then desertion of every little thing i feel?

can you feel my pain?

can you imagine trying to fall asleep when there are actual fucking faceless voices in between your ears jabbering an unimaginably taunting cry? whispering demented nonsense into your ears nonstop after you beg and plead with yourself to quit hearing those damn voices. your mind races like it’s been training all its life and this is the moment it has all led up to: the olympic event of self destruction. and it’s taking home the gold.

i close my eyes and i am so unbelievably tired. staying alive is a fight and today it has beat
me to a pulp. my eyes have bags as big as my regrets and my face is tired from
pretending to light up with joy all day.

jesus christ, it’s my junior year and i’m graduating in less than a year. surely there is one thing to even half way grin about. no, you are wrong. because for every good little thing that happens- every time it seems like it’s getting better, every false sense of hope, for every good thing, there is depression.

my false sense of hope has found its home. depression is a polite host to every single good
feeling in my body. depression feeds me, it cleans me, it loves me, it speaks to me, it knows me.

depression wants to stay forever. it houses in my bones, it feeds on my fears, it gets high on my anxiety, it exchanges hope for hopelessness, it thrives on my insecurities, and depressions favorite thing to do is to keep me up on nights like tonight, where i’m at my worst.

i’m scared, truly. i used to be obsessed with the seasons- more importantly, the transition of one season to anther. perhaps i used to be so fond of change because change was actually a possibility at that point in my life.

winter turning into spring was my favorite. i would lay on the dead, crunchy, brown remnants of the grass, the air around me crisp and cold, stabbing my lungs with every swift,
sharp breath. my nose rosy and cold, sniffling along every chill within my body. bare branches of tall oak trees
stretched into the white winter sky, seemingly reaching for the sunlight the tree craved and needed, as my pale, cold, minuscule hands clutched at the dry, barren earth beneath me- fumbling for more meaning of the world around me. why must seasons change, but my heart always feels the same?

you see, i resonate so very deeply with the winter months. gardens and patches of land that were once beaming with flora and fauna, life and expounding sunlight and warmth, now lay isolated, empty, sterile- similar to the child in me that once was jubilant and lively, but now turned into some thing so cold and ugly. the innocence has beend lost and the happiness within me has since been destroyed by the monster within me, which claims not only me as a victim, but those around me who love and care about me

i only know that i am loved and cared for because i’m continuously and perpetually told this upon a daily basis. it has become very prevalent to me that people feel much better about me when i validate that i know that they are here to talk and that i am loved. yes, i know this. but i cannot feel it. the love that you have for me is, in the least offensive way possible, absolutely irrelevant to my entire being.

you could listen to me rant for days upon weeks, you could read this bible that i’m typing. but i can never seem to make the people around me realize that i am never going to truly accept the love they offer me.

i often wonder if it is true love that inspires people to be there for those with depression- or if those surrounding me simply feel compelled to profess their love and support to me because they see my approval and wellbeing as a direct reflection of their credibility as a friend or family member.

i feel as if i am a burden to those around me, simply harshening the seemingly good mood that literally everyone else but me is capable of partaking in. i want to run with wild horses, frolic among wild flowers, hear the laughter of a child, hold hands with someone i love, and entertain deeply fulfilling and life changing relationships- but you see, the way my life is set up- i am actually emotionally incapable of doing so!

i am most aware of my unfortunate illness and incapability to be happy in the most unexpected and irrational times. take birthday parties, for instance. celebration and good vibes fill the air around me, seeping into my black, pitiful lungs. everyone around me smiles and sings, drowning in their jubilation, as i sit and watch. i want to have fun. please believe me. i want to sing happy birthday. i want to watch you open your gifts. i want to be as happy as you. i want to feel the warmth in my cheeks as i have the time of my life with my friends. but some thing within me compresses each and every slither of joy i am capable of feeling. i am suffocated by the downfall of my emotions and i am blinded by the reminder that depression doesn’t take breaks, not even at birthday parties. depression is strongest whenever you are faced with situations that expose you to the reality that you’re the odd one out- you’re sticking out like a sore thumb. you’re moping and you’re constantly staring out into space. what are you even looking at? what do you have to think about? you have nothing to live for, so anything beyond what’s right in front of you has no relevance in this whole scheme of life. so take it or leave it. you should be enjoying this birthday party. all the other kids are happy. you should be too. you’re lucky you even left the house today. so lucky. had you stayed home, you would have been 100% alone with your thoughts, rather than 97% along with your thoughts, due to the constant interruption of your moping and resentment by peers and parents and teachers asking “is everything okay?”

habitually, you nod. yes. everything is fine. i’m doing well, thank you. but what is the meaning of life? why do i feel like there’s a big fat man sitting on my chest and stomach and heart all the time? why do i always feel like i’m the only one in the room holding back tears trying not to cry? why are the other kids so happy? am i missing out on some thing? why do i feel so sad? why is it that every time i’m surrounded by people who say they love and care for me, i feel as if i’ve never been more alone before in my life? why? do you pity me? it’s just who i am. is that weird?

and oh my god i was always so desperate to be different. perhaps it was just the way my personality was set up. and i was always fairly extroverted. but it was presumably a persona that i put on. hey world, look at me. i’m silly and creative and ill say things that nobody else would say. pay attention to me, look at me.

because i needed them to watch. i hope you never feel so out of control of your body as me, to where you feel as if the only way that you can be saved is if other people figure out that you’re dying on their own. you don’t know how to come straight out and tell them, “hey, i really would rather not be alive at this given moment. i have visions of ending my own life. i use self isolation as a coping mechanism at times in order to feel like less of a burden on those who love me. i haven’t felt genuinely loved in a really long time. i’m so lonely. i could really use a friend right now.”

you can’t just say that. and i became depressed at 9 years old. how would a 9 year old even possibly articulate these complex and life threatening emotions that severely alter the way that every one of their peers perceives them. those middle years are crucial for making friends. it’s at that age that you have to find a group of 3 to 8 people who accept at least half of your given characteristics and occasionally invite you to partake in shit that kids do.

i wouldn’t know. i was a fleeting spirit. appearing and disappearing from cliques like it was clock work. there was more than one willow. there was the catty, witty willow- that found self-approval and approval from others by teasing and belittling others in order to build her own confidence up. then there was the sweet, flower child willow that sold daisy chains on the playground at recess at the price of one hug. there was the willow that stayed near the teachers at times because it was obvious that the other kids wanted nothing to do with her.

and as time progresses, the newer evolution of willow became prevalent. the willow that kept to herself most of the time, spending recess in the class room alone, drawing on the pages of her books, talking to herself, worrying her life away. everyone wondered - what was wrong with willow? or perhaps nobody noticed at all. maybe i was so insignificant even at such a young age- that the only time people considered me was in my dreams.

depression changes a person. some times, the change isn’t even tangible or noticeable to those surrounding the victim. some times, it is a slow discourse of the destruction of the spirit. it can slowly creep into your ear one ungodly night, and forever more whisper its awful lies into the victims ear, as it infects their whole body, their heart, their mind, their spirit, their hands, their eyes. everything. it slowly progresses into the uncontrollable loss of feelings and motivation to even maintain basic proper hygiene. it makes everything feel pointless. things are no longer worth the effort because you’re going to die no matter what, and that can’t come soon enough.

yes, depression can be slow and progressive. but that’s not the worst. the worst depression is the kind that sneaks up on you out of nowhere in the dead of night and immediately stiffens every hair on your body and turns your blood cold, making your mouth dry and your tongue numb. this depression hits you like a fucking train. it hits you in your most vulnerable state- comfort and normalcy. from that point on, you will never know normalcy again.

depression has a way of deceiving you into believing things that are crazy and untrue. but these things become so real to you as the depression progresses into a lifestyle that you come to know nothing else but the lies that depression will fill you with- so nobody can really tell you anything. it will call you names. it will tell you that you’re better off dead. it will be your only comfort- feeling nothing- during the night, whenever anxiety holds you until you pass out from exhaustion. you will never be cold at night as long as anxiety and depression have you snuggled up in between them.

oh how depression loves to kick you around and belittle you. oh how it renders your fantasies pointless. it loves to keep you hostage- to the point where any time you get an idea that doesn’t include moping around in your own sorrow, it immediately renders that idea impossible and reminds you that you are depressions bitch. you eat when depression finishes telling you how fat and disgusting you are. you sleep all day, so depression can take a dip in your nightmares. you wake up, and realize that life with depression is the true nightmare after all.

you pray for the day that you are relieved from this blinding madness and this subliminal torture. you feel as if you are not only a burden to your own self, but a burden to the people who love you and care for you

the only times when depression allows you relief from questioning the ulterior motives of those around you who claim to love you and care for you is when depression instead allows you to feel ashamed of your affliction. when you’re depressed, people notice. they may pretend not to and they may ignore it. but they know. they just don’t know what to say.

what would they say anyways?

hey. i’m sorry your brains are figuratively dripping out of your ears and i’m sorry that you have convinced yourself that i only care about you because i feel guilty, and i’m also sorry that you don’t even have the motivation to take a shower. i’m also sorry that you don’t
remember the last time that someone made you feel special. i’m sorry that you can’t find a reason to smile. i’m sorry that out of all the millionaires, the talented ones, the ones who fall in love, and the ones with nice asses- you were the one to end up hating yourself and everything around you.

ask yourself…. what do you say? what do you say to someone who is depressed?

know that i understand that you don’t know what to say. because yes this sucks. and i don’t expect you to understand what it’s like to wish you were dead. and i am so jealous of you for that. but please treat me the same as everyone else. please love me. make
me laugh. invite me to go shopping with you. get shit faced with me. help me fill the gaping hole in my soul with pointless memories of laughter and small talk. talk about life with me. listen to what i have to say. let me love you.

yes, i have depression. trust me, i will never forget! but please, help me feel normal. i don’t want to feel different than you. i want to be your peer, not your charity case.

i am dying to make friends. i am dying to spend less time in this bed writing shit like this. i am tired of letting this god damn disease walk all over me like i’m a fucking patch of dead grass.

life sucks. but please remind me that winter fades to spring. please remind me that some flowers are seasonal, and not every flower spends its whole life in bloom. remind me that you have to spend time in the dark to understand just how beautiful life in the sunlight is. remind me that there’s no cure for a bad day like a strawberry daiquiri and deep, controversial conversations with complete strangers.

remind me that my car has a sunroof and that it’s okay to open it up and let my hair get a little messy. remind me that music is better when it’s too loud to really interpret what the artist is saying- but you don’t have to understand to feel some thing.

remind me that i don’t have to lose this fight.

i am fucking hurting. but for the love of god, i’m begging you to help me fix me. because i forget that there’s good in the world. i forget that depression isn’t the boss of me. i forget that i have the whole world in my hands. i forget that there’s life after high school and that it’s okay to be alone some times, but it’s never okay to be lonely.

i will never forget what it is like to have my heart ripped out by a disease that i can’t even lay my hands on. perhaps i can touch the blisters under my eyes from
crying so much. perhaps i can run my hands along the holes i’ve punched in the walls from being so angry with myself. and yes i can feel how my bed is sinking in towards the ground because i spend so much time laying here trying to feel some thing besides utter destruction and loneliness. i can never forget what this disease has done to me. there will always be a piece of my heart that this depression has stolen from
me.

but with loving other people, i can aimlessly work to mend that hole. i can’t do it alone. i need a friend. i need you here with me.

i am so tired of being alone.
i will push you away at first. i may come off as helpless and a bitch. but please, that is the depression talking. it’s not willow.

willow loves the color pink
willow loves wild flowers
willow loves the smell of green onions
willow loves the feeling of sand under her feet
willow loves hearing about your childhood and how you had a speech impediment and a cat named angel
willow loves the smell of rain when it hits a hot sidewalk
willow loves to go barefooted
willow loves establishing connections with animals
willow loves willow, some times she just can’t see it

i need a gentle reminder of what it’s like to be a real normal teenage girl

this shit is hard. and being misunderstood makes it harder.

so i’m saying it loud and clear. my name is willow and i have clinical depression and generalized anxiety. my life has been a series of almost laughably awful events, which have resulted in said mental illnesses. i have been misunderstood, bullied, neglected, and hurt. but my story does not end here. i may never completely overcome my depression, but i will overcome my failure to acknowledge my illness. i will work to educate people about those who suffer as i do. i will help those with depression. i will be the friend that i have never had, but always needed, to anyone who wants it. i will be a testament to the depression that has oppressed me for 8 years now.

depression is not who i am. depression does not define me. what defines me is the fact that i am staying alive even though it is proving to be the biggest struggle that i have ever encountered, and i am asking that you help me and people like me. because it’s not a one person job.

my name is willow. and i’m telling you that depression is a rude ass bitch. but i’m a bigger bitch, and unlike my illness, i have the power to make people feel loved and valid. and i will use that power to overcome my depression.

i would like to dedicate this journal entry to everyone reading it. i may go to school with you, you may be just a random tumblr user, you may suffer with depression, you may suffer with some other deeply oppressive situation, you may just be a happy son of a bitch.
it doesn’t matter who you are. let this. journal entry be a testament to your life.

there are people with depression. and there is no way that i can ever explain to you just how it feels via tumblr text post or even via socratic seminar complete with gardens of text books and instructional videos. all i can say is that in this life, you are responsible for being there for the people around you.

you never know what someone is going through. people with depression practically have licenses and 4 year degrees in the field of putting up facades of being okay and sucking it up and repressing those explosive emotions. they don’t expect you to give a shit about them, because as far as they’re concerned, nobody has given a shit,
nobody currently gives a shit, and nobody ever will give a shit about them. they make it hard to help. but it’s so important that you break down those walls. and some times, all you need to do is smile at someone or invite someone to eat after school or to go to a party. you can’t do much for someone with depression. like i said, they’re a whole world away. their concerns and struggles are immaculate, indescribable. however, it doesn’t take much to show someone that you care even a little bit. even if it’s just picking and giving them a random flower.

if you suffer from depression or know anyone with depression and you need someone to look to for advice/help/inspiration, my DM’s are open. oversharing is caring. i know what it’s like to want to take your own life, and i fought the urge to do so even while writing this journal entry.

i am here for you. you are not by yourself. please DM me if you ever need someone to send you pictures of a cute animal to cheer you up, or if you even need me to talk you out of suicide. i know both feelings.

if you’re reading this,
i challenge you to go out of your comfort zone. yes you. i challenge you to do this one easy thing at either work or school, or out in public or in your family

1. pick 3 flowers, they can be store bought or you can have picked them yourself

2. give one flower to someone who you worry might have depression

2. give one flower to a random person who you don’t know

3. give one flower to a person you would like to get to know better, you never know when someone desperately needs a friend


it’s just a flower, but you could save someone’s life. some times, all people need is a gentle reminder that good things still exist and that somebody is thinking about them.

don’t be the person that assumes too high of a role or makes an excuse to not be able to participate in this challenge or share this journal.

you never know when you can save someone’s life.

remember: no matter who you are, i love you. and i am willing to comfort you in times of need. i’ve been where you are. and i know how much ass depression sucks.

my DM’s are open, and so is your future.
don’t end your story this early.

—  Willow Scalisi 4/18/17 (dam i just realized sonic got half priced burgers today, turn up)
back to black [m]

Pairing: Reader x Jin

Genre: smut, tattooed!jin, cheating, angst

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I have been listening to a lot of Amy Winehouse lately and this is what happens. I’m tempted to turn this into a series, but we shall see.

Originally posted by syubbie

We only said goodbye with words, I died a hundred times
You go back to her, and I go back to black

-Amy Winehouse

“Hey! What’s your name?” someone shouted at you from across the bar. His words barely louder than the beat pumping through the speakers.

The bartender handed over your drink, exchanging whiskey for your bills. The whiskey ginger burned on your tongue as you took a sip, preparing yourself to face the owner of the voice. He was handsome, but the look in his eyes told you that your name was the last thing on his mind. “No thanks.” You smiled, slipping off the bar stool to make your way through the crowd.

You felt your phone vibrate in your back pocket, the screen sticking out like a sore thumb in the dim lights of the bar your best friend had dragged you too. And as if the universe was playing a cruel trick on you, his name flashed on your screen. You scoffed as you read the familiar words.

Jin 11:45 PM: Where are you?

You held your phone up to your lips, debating if you should respond. Jin was bad for you and you knew it. That’s why the two of you broke up, to begin with. That’s why you still answered his calls and text messages. You took another sip, hoping to find some wisdom in the bottom of the ice. The screen illuminating the glass in your hand as you sank the rest of your drink. He was not a patient man.

Jin 11:48 PM: Y/N, where the hell are you?

His brashness made you wince, quickly typing out a response. Two could play this game, even though the both of you were never good at following the rules.

Y/N: 11:48 PM: Out

You really must have pissed him off as your phone started to vibrate in your hand, he was calling you.

“Stop playing games, Y/N.” Jin hissed through the phone, interrupting you before you could even say hello.

“I told you last time that this was over between us.” You raised your voice, matching his level of annoyance although for a much different reason.

Jin scoffed, “You and I both know that last time wasn’t enough.”

“Fuck you.” you quipped, annoyed at how easily the sound of his voice turned you into putty. His words pushing and pulling you into shapes that only he could make. “I’m at the bar.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.” was all he said before the line on the other end went dead.

Keep reading

2

I’m just gonna go straight into what’s been bothering me. Let’s take a look at the how each of the members became a part of the RFA.

Rika started the RFA. V’s her significant other, so of course he’d be in it. Jumin has a lot of connections and resources, plus he’s V’s best friend. Seven has hacking skills and can ensure the security of all of the RFA’s files. Jaehee is Jumin’s assistant and he realised she’s a very good worker who can contribute a lot to the RFA. (This is canon by the way, Jaehee explained this to MC through a phone call.) Yoosung is Rika’s cousin and she knows he loves to do volunteer work.

It makes sense why all of them were invited into the RFA. But then how did Zen get into the RFA? Like I’m not trying to be offensive because I absolutely love Zen, but all of them knew each other pretty well before the RFA was started (besides Jaehee of course, but at least that was explained). Why does Zen stick out like a sore thumb to me here? DOES ANYONE ELSE FEEL THE SAME?

Rika brought flowers to one of Zen’s shows, before he was famous, and asked for a picture with him. And then somehow after that V followed him around and was taking pictures of him???? But we completely overlooked that fact because he had saved Zen’s life after he crashed his motorcycle.

Why aren’t we asking more questions about this?

Why was V even following Zen in the first place? Why is he so suspicious?

Why did Rika want Zen in the RFA?

Let me just move on to the theory I heard that has left me so weirdED OUT. I’ve also added on to it and provided my own evidence.

If you’ve watched MeliZbeauty’s theory about Seven being a wizard and Zen being in love with you in every route, this other theory will make more sense to you. I haven’t played Cheritz’s other games so I really don’t know how to explain this “Seven is a wizard” theory, but basically if you’ve been paying attention, Seven has hinted at the fact that he’s a wizard numerous times in different chats.

The theory goes that Seven created the entire Mystic Messenger universe specifically for Zen (BRACE YOURSELVES) under the request of V. This makes sense considering the April Fools DLC where EVERYONE but you and Zen wasn’t real. It shows that that universe was designed for you and him.

V, as you know, was very in love with Rika and would do anything for her. But while they were together, Rika fell in love with Zen. Jealous, V convinced Seven to make another universe so that Zen wouldn’t reciprocate the feelings and instead fall for another girl, who is MC – us.

I don’t know why Seven decided to still provide other routes if the motive was to get Zen to fall for MC, but I feel like there’s an underlying sadism going on there. Zen is being tortured time and time again and has to watch the love of his life fall for other people. This part supports the theory that Seven is a bad wizard, from MeliZbeauty’s video.

Maybe this was punishment? Maybe Zen was starting to fall for Rika too. Maybe Rika was actually the original MC, Zen was coming too close to getting her, and V could not stand that. Okay I’m straying away from my original theory let’s save that last sentence for another post.

I don’t have a lot of evidence for this theory. It’s actually almost just a scenario or headcanon, really. I forget whose damn route it was from, but there’s a particular phone call with Jaehee that actually kind of supports this.

In this call she says that ever since Rika died, everyone in the group has been different, and the only one who didn’t change at all was Zen.

If Rika and Zen had been close enough such that he had been welcomed into the RFA, why wasn’t he at all bothered by her death? Was this because of Seven’s tricks?

V was in love with her. Jumin had a crush on her. Seven had a crush on her. Yoosung, romantically I don’t know, but he did love her a lot. But Zen? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

So what exactly was their relationship? How did Zen get into the RFA? Is Seven really a bad wizard? Does V actually have it in him to do such a thing?

i’ll tell you what major aesthetic problem i DO have with frozen though

I HATE THIS DRESS.

not in a concerned mom way of it being ‘too revealing’ or whatever, but it just sticks out like a sore thumb in contrast to the other costume design?? i get the point that elsa wants to be free and ‘different’ but still, having more incorporation of the entire hostoric norway aesthetic would go a long way imo. i really love the design of elsa’s coronation dress. its got the folk motifs and everything going

but then i remember being so upset having to see her wearing….that thing for the majority of the film. even concepts like this still feel like they ‘belong’ in the universe and is more harmonious with the rest of the set

and this is only a mild critique, im not even talking about all the visual creativity that was lost in the early concept art….

anonymous asked:

(1/2) i love lance more than anything but i'm also in love with the percy jackson series and recently i was thinking; unclaimed!lance, stuffed into the hermes cabin, and all alone even with everyone around him. because his friends are out there, having a jolly good time being claimed (Hunk is Hephaestus, Pidge is Demeter, Keith is Ares, Shiro is Ares.) and he's stuffed with Hermes. And he's so sad over it, yknow? because he doesnt know what he is, who he is, and he feels so left out

(2/2) because he sticks out like a sore thumb in the hermes cabin, he’s not all cunning and thieving like they naturally are (hermes is the god of thieves) and it kind of just kills him bc he’s always had a big & close family and all of a sudden he was torn away from them and hauled into this camp and then he finds out he doesnt even know whose kid he is?! (i like to imagine him being claimed as a son of poseidon and finally, finally feeling at peace bc he knows who he is now)

I am weak for Percy Jackson, how did you know Okay so, lets say this is in canon verse for the Percy Jackson series- they had the war and they won and shit- and imagine, Lance, who doesn’t know who he is, who is kinda good at sword fighting but much better at long range archery, who gets a long very well with Will Solace and the Apollo cabin, move into a cabin that is almost always empty. 

Yeah, he’s excited to be Percy Jackson’s sibling and all, but holy fuck, is it lonely in the cabin. Percy is at collage now, and Tyson is in Rome with Ella, and the cabin is so lonely and silent and it honestly bothers him. That is until Percy and Tyson find out they have a younger sibling. (In canon, Percy is like 18-19, and in this AU pretty boy, Lance, is like 16, and Tyson is a cyclops their age scales work differently.) And they’re like rushing to camp to meet them. All of the seven do. And of course he hung out with Nico, cause you know, friends with Will Solace, so hes already cool with him, but now he’s friends with all the demigods that are like… cool as shit and strong as shit. And he hangs out with Jason Grace- little known fact about Lance, he has a crush on one Jason Grace, much to Keith’s annoyance. 

So he starts hanging out with the seven plus everyone else, and his friends are like, “What” because now Lance is really cool, and being recognized for being really cool, and he has all these new friends, and Hunk doesn’t want to be replaced. Cue a big emotional scene were they talk it out and Hunk is introduced to everyone and Leo is like, “Oh yeah that’s my brother, hes a nerd.” And Pidge takes a little longer too come around to Lance but when she does. Oh boy. Pidge hugs and cuddles Lance to death and won’t let him go because she doesn’t want Lance to forget her like her family had too in the awe of his new friends. Next is actually Shiro, and his is a little less emotional, and they just talk it out about how he wants too be Lance’s friend, always. So… Keith.

Keith, golden boy of the ares cabin, can not deal with the thought of Lance abandoning him for his new friends especially Jason mother fucking Grace. And all of his siblings are like, oh just confess to him you wimp, except Clarisse because she gets hot hard it is to love someone who is in love with another person Selina  so she doesn’t tell him anything, instead, she tells him he should talk too Nico about it- Because lets face it, Nico is great and probably waited around doing that mutual pinning thing for will for like two weeks until they got together (This disregards canon because canon is dumb when it comes to how they got together) and he knows. So Keith goes to Nico, they talk, and Keith tries to confess to Lance. Except he accidentally challenges Jason too a duel instead. And holy chicken fry, Lance ain’t prepared. Like to see his major crush, challenge his minor crush, and have his minor crush accept? (Piper’s laughing her ass off and taking bets.) He is shook. Especially when Keith tells him in the Poseidon cabin that hes fighting for Lance.  So the day of the fight he walks over to Lance and tells him to keep his eyes on him, and Lance does. Keith wins- to everyone’s surprise and since no one won in the betting pool Piper keeps all the winnings and he just, kisses Lance. And Lance kisses back. So now Lance has family, friends, and a boyfriend- BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE

Because Sally is the best mom ever to exist, she invites Lance over, and just smothers him in affection, because his own mom is in Cuba. He cries, she makes cookies, Paul is happy to have another person that they consider a son, and Sally is going to give birth soon, its going to be great. 

SMUT    -    ETHAN DOLAN X READER

Make Me Bad

DESC: Reader isn’t the kind of girl who goes out to parties and gets wasted, but that all changes when Ethan Dolan shows her how to really live.

photo creds to owner

————————————————————————————————-

You’d never been so terrified by something that seemed so simple.

“Just a party,” you reminded yourself, extending your fingertips towards the silver door handle.

How had you gotten here in the first place? The answer wasn’t so much how, but who. Ethan Dolan had been your best friend and number one supporter for months, so you couldn’t turn down his request to a party, especially when you just so happened to be head over heels in love with him. You casually forgot to mention to him that you’d never so much as touched alcohol in your life, or gone to a party, either. But it didn’t take a genius to know that you were the classic head smart good girl, so, there was that. You ended up putting much more time into how you looked than you’d set out for, but no matter what you did, you knew that you would stick out like a sore thumb. You’d chosen a midnight blue strapped crop top, a short high waisted black skirt, and some silver heels.You’d let your hair down for once, and spent much more time than you’d like to admit doing your makeup. And now, here you were, and you couldn’t be more scared to pull that handle.

Luckily, you didn’t have to open the door, since somebody else did. A drunk couple toppled out the door in a fit of laughter, red plastic cups in their hands as they threw off their shoes and raced out into the grass. Not waiting another second, you dove through the doorway and into an absolute nightmare. The floor shook under the feet of hundreds of people dancing, so many people that they spilled out into the garden and right to the pool. Strobe lights blinded you instantly, and the music was so loud, it took everything you had not to cover your ears like a dork. You got sucked into the crowd instantly, knocking hips with a guy who reeked of beer.

“Hey pretty lady, wanna dance?” He winked, his hands flying to your hips and pulling you into his chest.

“She’s with me,” a familiar voice said behind you.

The stranger sized up your savior, but quickly gave it up and backed off.

“Hey,” a warm voice said in your ear.

A smile crept up on your lips, and you spun to face Ethan, “Hey.”

He wore a plain white tee, some ripped black skinnies, and navy shoes. As usual, absolutely mesmerizing without even trying. 

Ethan’s smile faltered, his eyes drinking you in for a good few seconds.

“Wow, um,” he started, taken aback, “You look…”

“Like a mess, I know,” you stammered.

“No,” Ethan smiled nervously, “You look amazing.”

You felt your cheeks warm in surprise, “Oh, um, thanks.”

Ethan nodded lightly, the smile you loved lighting up his face.

“Well, let’s get you out of this crowd for a minute,” he said.

“Thank god,” you laughed nervously and gratefully took Ethan’s hand as he pulled you easily through the waves of people.

Ethan walked you out of the loud dance floor, and into the slightly deserted kitchen. Not many people were in there, mostly just people coming in and out to fill their drinks up. He led you to the empty side of the kitchen, and hopped up onto the white marble counter-top, pointing to an empty stool across from him.

“So, how you feeling?” he asked.

“I don’t know, to be honest, this isn’t really my scene.”

Yeah right, you’ve been to parties before,” Ethan chuckled.

You coughed awkwardly and shook your head in embarrassment. 

“What!?” Ethan gasped, “For real!?”

“For real,” you sighed nervously.

“Wow, you haven’t lived yet,” he said.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“Don’t be” Ethan smirked suddenly, “Because tonight we’re changing that.”

Your eyes flickered up to his, “Wha-, no, no.”

But Ethan had already hopped off the counter and dashed across the kitchen, coming back seconds later with two beer bottles in hand. He tossed you one, and you caught it without meaning to.

“Drink up,” he smiled, popping open his bottle and taking a gulp.

You held the chilly bottle in your hands, your heart beating fast.

“How about this,” Ethan said suddenly. “For every drink you drink, I’ll have one, that way we’ll be doing this together. And tomorrow, if you wake up regretting tonight, I will never ask you to do this again. You win. But, I promise you, you’ll have fun.”

You blew air out of your mouth, hating yourself for caving so easily. 

“Fine,” you said, to Ethan’s delight. “But remember if this goes wrong, it’s on you.”

You opened your drink, and began downing it quickly. You didn’t particularly like it going down, but you sure enjoyed how it made you feel not too long afterwards.

“How do you feel now?” Ethan asked.

“I feel..bubbly,” you said with a big smile.

“You know what’s even better than that,” Ethan said huskily, “Feeling drunk.”

And before you knew it you were taking vodka shots with your best friend and biggest crush.

“Three, two, one,” Ethan counted down, bringing the shot glass to his lips at the same time as you. You scrunched up your face from the taste, but Ethan didn’t so much, his eyes tracking you the entire time.

“One last one,” you stuttered tipsily, refilling your drink.

You linked your arms into Ethan so that you’d be downing eachother’s drinks, but this time you held onto Ethan’s gaze as the liquid poured down your throats.

“Damn,” you said, placing your glass on the counter and turning to move.

“Where are you going?” Ethan asked.

“I’ll never be drunk enough to want to take the dance floor, but there’s a first time for everything,” you said as you made your way out the kitchen.

It was good Ethan followed you, because your feet wobbled dangerously and you went toppling backwards right into Ethan’s arms.

“I got you,” he laughed out, pushing you back upright.

“Thanks, E,” you smiled and fixed your balance before moving out into the mass of dancing people.

You had no idea what you were supposed to be doing, so you followed everybody else’s lead and shook your head and hips to the beat of the song, and that seemed to do the trick. The same guy from earlier came sliding into view, but you didn’t even try to stop him when he put his hands on your hips and began dancing into you. The pulse of the song beat hard in your chest and you laughed drunkenly and mimicked the stranger. You were actually starting to enjoy yourself when a strong hand grabbed you from behind and spun you right into a hard chest. You blinked through the flashing strobe lights in confusion.

“Come on Ethan, I was having fun,” you winged in complaint.

Ethan looked you over defensively, his jaw clenched.

“Not as much fun as you could be having with me,” he pointed out, running a hand through his dark locks.

“Whatever, dance with me,” you said, swinging yourself back into the song.

You started off jumping into the beat, but changed demeanor when you felt Ethan behind you, placing one large hand on each side of your round hips. You closed your eyes, enveloped by the sound, and pressed your shoulders back into Ethan as you swayed your hips lightly against his body. You rolled your neck into Ethan’s chest, resting your head on him as you let yourself be consumed by the feeling of him grinding into you. Ethan’s chest rose heavily, his cool breath tickling your face, his eyes closed. You blinked up at him, startled when he opened his eyes again, his dark eyes resting hungrily on yours. For a moment everyone vanished, and it was just you and Ethan, and there he was, bending over you, his lips parting-

“Belly shots!” someone yelled from across the room, snapping you out of your daze.

You cleared your throat, shaking your head a little bit with a smile, “Um, let’s go.”

Ethan nodded distantly, detaching himself from you and leading you to the fun.

“Who’s next?” someone called.

“This girl,” Ethan said, pushing you to the front of the small crowd.

A blonde guy raised his eyebrow at you with a smirk, “I’ll take this one.”

“No man, she’s mine,” Ethan growled, stepping forward.

You gulped nervously, nodding shyly at Ethan and pulling yourself up onto the polished tabletop.

You tucked the lime between your lips, the salt spread over the top area of your breasts, and the tequila poured into your exposed bellybutton. Before you could even prepare yourself a little bit, Ethan was hunched over you, his tongue collecting all the salt, his lips attaching gently to your belly, and than to your mouth in seconds. The lights were blocked out by the shadow of Ethan bending over your lips, holding your eye contact for a moment while he sucked the lime from your lips and into his. The sound of triumphant cheers and whoops  filled your ears, as you sat up. You grinned and turned to hop off the table but didn’t get to, for Ethan spat his lime out and grabbed you roughly by your hips and hoisted you into him, your legs wrapping around his waist obediently. And then the roaring of the crowd got a hundred times louder as Ethan attacked your lips mercilessly with his own, and you let him. Your hands went sliding roughly through his hair, your lips responding hungrily to Ethan’s, not even bothering to hide your moans of pleasure when he dipped his tongue into your mouth.

Suddenly, Ethan pulled his head back, his eyes fluttering open.

“(Y/N),” Ethan breathed apologetically.

“I want this,” you assured him, your teeth grazing over your lower lip, “I want you.”

Ethan clenched his jaw in frustration, his eyes closing as he fought to pick out his next words. 

“(Y/N), you better answer with certainty, because if you give me a yes, then I don’t think I’m going to have the willpower to ask you again,” he murmured, his nostrils flaring.

“Ethan,” you said softly, “Open your eyes.”

He did, and they were darker than usual, and filled with nothing but lust.

“Yes,” you said.

And that was all it took.

The crowd of people whistled as Ethan placed you down on the ground and began leading you upstairs.

Ethan closed the bedroom door behind you, locking it shut and whipping around to face you. He pushed you down onto the sheets, climbing over you and removing his top and shoes, you following his lead. He dipped his lips onto your neck, sucking on a patch of your skin and drawing out sounds of pleasure from you. He nibbled and sucked your neck until it was covered in many dark love bites. You went to unclip your bra, but he had it off in seconds with little to no effort. Ethan brought his lips down to your breasts, attaching them around one of your nipples, his tongue flicking against the tip as he sucked on it roughly before moving to the other breast and repeating the action. You struggled not to roll your head back, keeping your eyes on Ethan, who lifted his deep gaze intently to yours while he worked. You breathed out in pleasure, your hands tugging at Ethan’s soft hair as his tongue came sliding down your belly and down to your skirt. He hooked his fingers into the fabric, sliding your skirt off your legs and tossing off his jeans while he was at it. You took him by surprise, grabbing his hips and turning him onto his back as you hoisted yourself onto his legs, his growing bulge centimeters away from where you wanted it. Ethan chuckled in surprise, his arms snaking around your belly as you bent over him, leaving wet kisses all over his rippled bronze chest. A deep rumble came from his throat as he moved his hands to your ass, which he squeezed roughly in his hands while you explored his chest. You looked up at him, your thumbs hooking in his Calvin’s, your heart thumping with adrenaline. Ethan nodded lightly, giving you the ok to remove his boxers. His large member perked right up, ready for you to take in your mouth, so you did. You squeezed as much of him as you could between your lips, your hands gently pumping any of him that didn’t fit. His length hit the back of your throat, but you took it, working your hands faster, a layer of sweat building on your skin. Ethan groaned out in pleasure, the sound being more enough to keep you going. You swirled your tongue around the tip, feeling him twitch in your mouth.

“B-baby, I’m gonna c-” Ethan gasped out.

He released his load in your mouth, and you swallowed without thinking twice. You pulled off, your chest rattling as you gulped in the fresh air. Ethan sat propped up on his elbow’s, his eyes wide in wonder as you lifted your gaze to him.

“Not so innocent after all,” he smirked, an eyebrow raised.

You blushed furiously in embarrassment, Ethan scooting you forward on his belly so he could reach your lips. He used his thumb to collect some left over mess around your lips, his eyes unwavering as he forced his finger into your mouth. You sucked on it lightly, his thumb popping as he removed it. Ethan smiled gently, bending into you for a quick kiss on the lips, his hand resting beneath your chin. He pulled back a moment later, shaking his head in awe.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Because you’re gorgeous,” Ethan mumbled softly, “And because It’s my turn.”

Ethan spun you onto your back, raising his shaft above you and positioning it right near your entrance. You scooted back so that you could get a look at him, your hands resting open on either side of your body. Ethan laced his fingers through yours, holding you to the sheets as he entered you. Your face reflexively scrunched up as Ethan adjusted himself, but soon he was moving in and out of you at an excruciatingly slow pace.

“Ethan,” you begged in frustration, glaring at him.

Ethan’s lips twitched into a smile, and he began working himself faster towards your core.

“More,” you pleaded, digging your nails into Ethan’s hands.

He re-positioned his hands onto your hips, holding you in place as he began slamming his hips into you with no mercy. His hips came knocking roughly into yours, his balls slapping loudly against your skin. You cried out in pleasure, your nails dragging marks all over Ethan’s back. He found your g-spot and slammed roughly into it, his mouth dropping open, and his eyes fluttering closed in concentration. 

“I’m going to-” before you could finish your sentence, Ethan had opened his eyes again to watch you shudder beneath him. And just the sight of his hair plastered to his forehead, his flawless body shaking with each jagged breath, and his dark eyes, was enough to break you.

“Come for me, princess,” Ethan purred.

You reached your high, convulsing beneath Ethan and screaming out his name as your juices poured out over him. Ethan’s thrusts got much sloppier, and he finished soon after, his come filling you right up to the brim. You shook beneath him, moisture clinging to your eyes as he pulled out and cleaned you up with small kitten licks.

Ethan crawled up to your side, giving you a moment to breathe. You rolled onto your side to face him, feeling exhausted. Ethan rolled to his side too, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on your forehead and gently slide his fingers through your tangles.

“Goodnight, beautiful,” he murmured.

But your head buried into his warm chest, you were already out.

- The next morning -

You awoke with a headache, the events of last night coming rushing back to your head at once. You blinked a couple of times and looked up to see Ethan still passed out, he’d fallen asleep with one arm locked tightly around you. 

“Mmph,” you groaned, rubbing your eyes and sliding out of Ethan’s hold.

You sat upright, bringing your knees to your chest and placing your head in them while you struggled with what you were going to tell Ethan.

You knew for a fact that alcohol or no alcohol, you were sure of what you’d wanted last night, but you weren’t sure if you could say the same for him.

“Hey,” Ethan said, pulling himself up onto the pillows.

You lifted your head to look at him.

“How’s my not-so-good-girl,” he teased, ruffling his hair.

You scoffed and shook your head, “I don’t know, to be honest.”

“I could’ve sworn you said that same thing to me last night before getting drunk off your mind,” Ethan chuckled.

“You remember that?” you laughed weakly, picking through your foggy memories.

“Of course,” E said, his smile faltering.

“Look, alcohol doesn’t affect me quite as strongly as it does to you,” he started,”so if last night was a mistake to you-”

“Was it a mistake to you?” you cut him off, a knot of fear growing in your belly.

Ethan frowned at you, “Of course not, (Y/N), you can’t even begin to imagine how long I’ve been waiting for last night to happen,” he said. Then his eyes grew wide and he groaned in frustration, “Last night was a mistake to you, wasn’t it?” he hit his palms against his head.

“No,” you said. “Well of course I didn’t want things to happen quite like that, but well, you know.”

Ethan smiled curiously, “Really?”

“Really,” you smiled nervously.

“So then, you tell me,” Ethan grinned, “we had a promise.”

You raised an eyebrow in question.

“Do you swear off nights like last night and place full blame on me?” he asked.

“Nights like last night,” you repeated.

Ethan nodded, his brown eyes fixated on you.

“I get the feeling that ‘nights’ symbolizes something more than just a fling,” you laughed, “In which case, no, I would very much want to try out ‘nights’ some more.”

Ethan’s face lit up, “See, just like I said. I promised you’d come around.”

You plopped back down into the sheets, rolling back under Ethan’s arm and snuggling into him, “I guess you were right.”

The Big Reveal

Originally posted by supercanaries

Request: Can you do one where Sebastian Smythe and reader are dating and they reveal it to the Glee club by having reader where his blazer?

Notes: So, Sebastian is a bit out of character in this one but still keeps his sass towards the others. It’s a bit shorter than my other imagines but I hope you guys like it!


“Babe, please?” Sebastian begs you, holding the jacket out in front of him. You take a moment to examine the blazer, noting the crispness of the navy, the sharp contrast of the red piping and the Dalton logo stitched on the left chest.

“Why do you want me to wear it?” You question, feeling the heavy fabric between your fingers.

“It’s the biggest game of the year. Our schools are playing each other, it’s just to show support. It’d be like wearing my jersey, but I kind of need that. The other girlfriends are going to be wearing the blazers too. You’ll fit right in.”

“Have you forgotten that I sit with my friends at the lacrosse games? The ones who not-so-subtly hate you? Who would flip out at me telling them that we’re dating?”

Keep reading

Liberty and Justice (NSFW)

Eggsy Unwin x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: Kingsman/Avengers AU - The Avengers are a branch of the Statesmen located in New York, Eggsy and Merlin have come to the states in search of Harry and you have been assigned to work with Eggsy to help find the man who may have kidnapped him causing Bucky (Sergeant) to get a little jealous.

Warnings: Smut

A/N: DONE! If there are any glaring grammatical errors just let me know and I’ll fix it in the morning. I’m too tired right now. I pulled these images off google to make this gif so I don’t know who the original artists are. If you do let me know and I’ll credit them. Glad I finally managed to write this because I honestly wasn’t sure how I was going to do it at first but I’m (sort of) pleased with the result. Also, this is still a reader fic but because everyone in Kingsmen and Statesmen going by code names the reader and the Avengers go by code names. Just trust me on this.


“Are you fucking serious? I have to go back there?” Eggsy groaned, throwing a small tantrum.

“Yes Eggsy, you and I have to go back to see the Statesmen, they are the only ones who can help us find Harry.” Merlin sighed. “But don’t worry, we are going to see the New Yorkers this time, not the mid-westerners.”

Keep reading

Forgive Me, Father

Summary: You find an unusual customer at your workplace, and end up getting more than you bargained for when you offer to take him to a back room
Square Filled: Virginity
Sam x Reader
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: NSFW, smut, loss of virginity, Priest!Sam, Stripper!Reader
Words: 3,720 (now you know why it took so long
Written for @spnkinkbingo

Your name: submit What is this?

You spotted him as soon as you walked into the room; he looked so out of place, standing by the doorway, away from the dancers and other patrons.

You walked over to him, swaying your hips and flicking your hair over your shoulder to get his attention.

You loved your job, and days like this - people like this - made you love it even more.

“Good evening, father,” you smiled over the music, running your hands up his lapels, “What’s a man like you doing in a place like this?”

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Opportunities

Anon: College Klance, where Keith’s sick but he has a really important test in one of his classes so he goes to class anyway. Keith and Lance happen to have that class together, and normally Lance just tries to ignore the other boy, but the Keith waddles in wearing a big coat, scarf and a wool beanie. It’s like 80 degrees out, so he knows somethings off. Bonus: For Keith being light headed and having to be carried back to his dorm room. (PS Thank you for writing awesome fics)

A/N: So I heard you guys liked pining Lance. Cashing in the bonus, someone should draw Keith in winter gear with the scarf covering his face up to his bright-red nose.


Lance hadn’t noticed the boy before. He hadn’t noticed that mullet hair, or that red jacket, or that little glance they shared when the boy would walk in a minute before class started-

Okay, maybe he’d noticed. But that’s just because the guy sat in front of him in the lecture hall! How could he not look at the way his stupid hair turned up at the ends or the stupid way he twirled his stupid pencil with his stupid nice fingers-

Okay. Maybe he’d done more than notice. Maybe he’d put in some extra effort into trying to see the boy’s name on his test. Maybe he’d lost track of class while watching the boy lazily doodle on his notes. Maybe he’d seen ‘Keith Kogane’ on the list of packages at the front desk of his dorm hall and almost choked. Just maybe, though. Probably not. Definitely not.

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Hard Eyes: Part 3

Originally posted by harleenfrancesqvinzel

Prompt: Batmom that was former suicide squad? 

Words: 938

Part 1 , Part 2 


    “I’m sorry, but this is just crazy.”

    You grin at your second oldest son, “And why is me going for a spa weekend crazy?”

    Jason scowls, “Not that! You leaving Penelope with Dick! She likes me more.”

    From down the hall you hear Dick yell back, “She does not!”

    You do your best to hide your chuckle but you don’t quite succeed. Straightening you sling your duffle bag over your shoulder and say, “Dick is in charge because I can trust him to keep the fighting to a minimum. When I come back from this weekend I would like all of my children to be alive and intact without any internal bleeding. And Jason, as much as I love you sweetheart, you like to stir the pot.”

    Jason crosses his arms against his chest and asks, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

    You grin. “That I know it was you who broke Tim’s computer and not Damian. And that you tricked Tim into thinking it was Damian so that a fistfight would break out in the middle of the New Year’s Gala, so that you could sneak off without anyone noticing. I’m here to tell you that I did notice.”

    Jason just shrugs, “Alright so I don’t like Tim and the demon spawn all the time, but I love my sister, and if Dick has her he’s going to invite Barbara over and they’re going to place make believe house, and I’ll die from fluff overload.”

You kiss your son’s cheek, “Then I suggest not stirring the pot next time.”  

Without another word you leave the room, a pouting Jason on your heels. You make your way downstairs and let out a sharp whistle. The boys come into the foyer a minute later.

Setting your bag on the floor you lay out the rules. “All right I will be gone a week. This spa I’m going to doesn’t allow electronics, so it is next to impossible to reach me. I’ve left a number to be used in emergencies only. As in the world is ending, not someone stole your poptart.  Your dad and Alfred are also out of range. They’re with the League, trying some new physical therapy they’re hoping will help.

“I’ve left Dr. Lee’s number on the fridge, along with Commissioner Gordon’s, who has agreed to make surprise visits to make sure you’re all doing what needs to be done. AND NOT STIRRING THE POT.”  Your eyes flicker to Damian and Jason for a minute before you continue, “Also Dick, sweetheart, as much as I love you you’re not in charge.”

You watch your oldest son’s eyes go wide as you reach over and take Penelope from him, as Jason let’s out a sharp laugh. “What, why?”

You smile, “Hun, the minute Barbara comes in you go all love struck, and if you’re focusing on her and Penelope and in Jason’s words ‘Play house’ I fear that the manor would burn down and I do not want to explain that to Alfred.” You ignore Jason’s “Hah!” and keep going, “So I called in the big guns.”

You watch the girl slip out of the shadows without a word. You watch as Damian begins to scowl, not because he’s unhappy but because he hadn’t sensed her. Smiling at your oldest daughter, you give Cass a quick hug before handing Penelope over. The girl takes the infant with a smile. You can’t help but grin at the sight of your two girls.

Picking up your bag you simply say, “Cass has permission to use force if needed. I highly suggest following the rules. Bye kids.” And with a wave you leave.

You slink into the car, and begin your drive. Instead of driving towards a spa you make your way into the city. You head through it straight into the slums. You pull the car up to a less than stellar bar. You park it, grab your bag, and then lock it.

The beep draws more than a little attention. It’s a nice car, a payday kind of car, and had you been anyone else, it probably would have been gone even quicker than Jason could get the tires off the Batmobile.  

But you are you, and that’s why when a rather large goon steps in your path, you don’t even hesitate to drop him to the ground. Ruthlessness is prized here. Coldness treasured. Slipping inside the bar you let your new life fade away and slip into your past. It’s comfortable, if not a bit dusty, and as you drop your bag on the ground and it lands with a thud eyes turn towards you, and you meet all of them head on.

Floyd is sitting in the corner of the bar, guns on the table, a smirk on his face. It takes less than a minute for him to stand up and make his way over to you. His arm wraps around your shoulder and says, “Our Baby Girl is back.”

You smile as a cheer goes through the bar, and for the first time in forever your eyes land on your best friends. Harley and Ivy are there, smiling, and slightly behind them, sticking out like a sore thumb is your brother Captain Rick Flagg.

He’s dressed in jeans and a tee-shirt, and looking more uncomfortable than a cat in a dog fight. Your eyes meet his, and he tips his head just a smidge, he’s here for you. They’re all here for you. They might be a bunch of villains but they stick by there own, and make no mistake you are one of them. 

Acquaintances to Lovers

Anonymous asked: Hi, I was wondering if you could do a fic in which the reader is like an understudy/swing and has just joined Hamilton. The reader like alternates for Maria Reynolds making like Daveed jealous? Something along the lines of that. I just read your Lin one and loved it so any chance you get to do this one. Thanks x

A/N: So this fic has already been done, so I changed it to reader understudying Angelica. Sorry anon! 

Warnings: Nakedness, cursing, knee touching, crying, 

Word Count: 2474

Pairing: D. Diggs x Reader

Ask | Masterlist


The iconic pink dress hung from a hanger on the rack of your dressing room, sticking out from the other bland clothing like a sore thumb. You were standing on a platform in the middle of the room while waiting for the tailor to come back. You impatiently tapped your foot. It had been almost a full 15 minutes at this point.

A text alert showed up on your phone almost instantaneously.

From: Ben [Costumer]
Hey I’m so sorry, an emergency came up at the warehouse and I needed to attend to it ASAP. We can reschedule or you can show up earlier for your next rehearsal.

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Long before the Sardonyx arc (which I honestly find really benign compared to other examples,) and long before the su-critical community sprung up, there’s something about Steven Universe that’s really bothered me, something that the narrative doesn’t address. And it sticks out like a sore thumb because normally the show is really good at having positive messages!

The show is aimed at children- and thus, it’s teaching children that if they have an abusive parent, who yells at them and berates them in front of others, who blames them for their problems, who puts them in physical danger…. then then child is obligated to forgive that parent, if said parent sheds some crocodile tears.

that’s honestly pretty gross and that’s a horrible message to send to children.

episodes like Rose’s Scabbard and Sworn to the Sword are shameful.

and I’m glad I’m not the only one who finds episodes like these to be revolting in how they’re executed.  @bismuthspartnerincrime @badstevenuniversescreencaps @tiredruby

Night Out | SEHUN

Pairing: Sehun (EXO) x Reader

Word Count: 3168

Summary: The second you see Sehun on a night out, you decide that you want him all to yourself. He doesn’t seem to mind either. 

** THIS IS A SERIES IN WHICH I WILL RANDOMLY PICK A SONG IN MY PLAYLIST AND WRITE WHATEVER IT INSPIRES ME TO WRITE **

Originally posted by veriloquentmind


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