that he might not like what he would get

th1s-1s-w4ck  asked:

Can I request the boys with a s/o who's afraid of physical contact? -♡

I wasn’t sure you meant everyday physical contact like hand shakes or if you meant the more romantic type of contact? So I went for romantic, I hope that’s okay!

David would love to give you hugs and to just be close to you but if it makes you uncomfortable, he’ll try his best not to invade your personal space. He might slip up on occasion and he’ll freak out, apologise and let go of you the minute he realises what he’s doing

Daniel isn’t really the type of person who wants to cuddle and stuff?? So it’s not really a big deal to him

Max like Daniel he’s not really big on physical contact unless he’s had a bad day, in which case he’ll probably just go to bed early

Neil I think Neil would be the type of person who values personal space and doesn’t really like when people get too close, so he kind of understands

Space Kid like David, he’d love to hug you but I think he’d be worried about making you uncomfortable

Harisson for the most part he’s pretty good at making sure he doesnt make you uncomfortable, but there are days he might be a bit annoyed he can’t just pull you into a big hug and kiss your face a million times

Preston loves physical contact! He’d love to be close to you if he had the chance but he won’t force you to do something that makes you uncomfortable. However, he might unintentionally try and get you to get over this fear of yours, but he’ll stop if you tell him he’s trying to “fix you” again

Vertebreak furrowed his brow as he read the news from his tablet. A group of civilians were ambushed and murdered, with significant blood loss from punctured arm wounds. Normally the scientist wouldn’t bat an eye of such a tragedy, but the location of the attack was far from the general area his own vampire-like partner occupied. The idea of Nightstrike hiding something from him left a foul taste in his mouth, but Vertebreak couldn’t think of anyone else capable of pulling off such a feat.

“What are you reading, love?” As if on cue, Nightstrike leaned over his shoulder to read, giving Vertebreak a mild shock. The murderer was always very quiet, it was hard to get used to his vanishing presence.

“Just some news from the north…strange isn’t it?” He hoped the question would entice his partner to spill whatever secrets he might’ve had. Nightstrike looked deep in thought as he read. “Either some con is trying to copy you or-”

“It looks like my older sister Wingcode is in town.” 

Vertebreak’s jaw dropped. “Your WHO?!”

Mun: Wingcode has entered the fray!  

Rage

Draco feels a tremor tear through him. His fists are clenched, his jaw muscles tense, his chest tight, his knees wobbly. He’s breathing heavily as his stomach twists viciously, the hot feeling inside it beginning to spread, infecting the rest of his body. Like venom. He stares down the empty corridor, lit by torches. His vision blurs, little spots appearing in front of him. He feels dizzy. He wants to scream. He wants this feeling inside of him to take physical form, so he can punch it, destroy it.

He wants the rage to leave his body.

Well, what Draco really wants is the cause of his rage to go away. How many letters from his father is he supposed to receive calmly, while Lucius keeps going on and on about how disappointed he is in his son, not sure if he can be even called his son any longer.

Draco feels sick. His stomach gives another twist, but Draco refuses to show weakness. He will not be sick. No. He hears, rather than feels, his jaw cracking as he tenses his muscles further. His arms are shaking now. Unthinkingly, he turns to the wall and punches it. Hard. He feels no pain, but there’s another cracking sound.

Draco feels his eyes sting, which only makes him angrier. This will not make him cry. He will not spill a single tear over this. And yet, he can’t seem to stop the hot tears from running down his cheeks.

He startles when he hears footsteps echoing off the walls. He hastily wipes the tears away with his sleeve and looks up. Of course. Of course it has to be Potter!

“Malfoy.” He sounds puzzled. “What are you doing here?”

Draco doesn’t answer and averts his eyes, in fear of Potter noticing he just had a moment of weakness.

“Malfoy,” Potter repeats. Draco feels a new surge of anger course through him. He wants to hit Potter. Hexing him wouldn’t be gratifying enough. He wants to physically injure him with his hands, his whole body.

Before Potter knows what’s happening, Draco lunges at him. His fist connects with his jaw and Potter stumbles backward. He blinks a few times, obviously flabbergasted and blinks at Draco stupidly. After a moment, he frowns.

“What the hell, Malfoy?”

Draco lunges at him again, trying to land a punch. His vision blurs once more, making it difficult to see where to hit Potter. But it doesn’t matter. Draco doesn’t care which part of Potter he will injure, as long as it hurts. He wants Potter to hurt as much as he does.

But Potter is fighting back. He hits Draco in the stomach, making him flinch. He welcomes the sharp pain. It numbs the other sensations in his body. It doesn’t last long, though. Once again, he feels detached from his body.

Draco’s not sure, but he thinks he got Potter on his shoulder and punched his chest, knocking the breath out of him. When Draco starts whirling around again, striking out in an uncontrolled manner, he suddenly feels arms encircling him, clutching him.

“Damn it, Malfoy, stop,” Potter shouts. He tightens his grip, trying to get Draco to stop moving. Draco fights against the restraint, tries to break free, but Potter is apparently stronger than him.

“Bloody hell, I heard you’ve been starting fights lately for no apparent reason,” Potter squeezes out while Draco still tries to get him off him. “What is the matter with you?”

Draco just grunts and tries to shove his elbow into Potter’s side. He fails. When all his attempts fail, he finally slumps down. Potter, surprised by the sudden extra weight, tumbles and they both go down.

Draco needs a moment to realise he’s half sitting in Potter’s lap, his body still somewhat encircled by Potter’s arms. It’s too much. Draco can’t take this. The hot tears he spilled earlier are nothing compared to what’s happening right now. He’s choking on his own sobs, every inhale torture to his lungs.

He can’t even win a fight against Potter, Draco thinks bitterly. Is his father right? Is Draco really a disappointment? Draco is faintly aware that he’s heaving and puffing, his chest aching.

“Malfoy,” Potter says quietly, uncertainty clear in his voice. He hasn’t moved his arms and Draco wants to slap them away, because the warmth that’s seeping through his robes is too bittersweet for him to bear. It’s not Potter’s intention to comfort him with this proximity.

“Your hand,” Potter suddenly mutters. Draco looks down at it. His hand his bruised and swollen, the skin on his knuckles cracked. He still doesn’t feel any pain. He’s just numb, like most days lately, not in control of his own body.

He hates that he can’t get up and just leave. He’s still sitting in Potter’s lap, sobbing like a child. Draco feels a tentative finger under his chin and tries to jerk his head away, but Potter’s grip is firm. He forces Draco to look at him and Draco can do nothing against it. He stares at Potter as several emotions pass over his face. His eyes are wide and his mouth opens to release a warm puff of breath. Draco feels it on his face and it’s like Potter has struck him.

The aching in his chest worsens and Draco breaks down completely. He lets his head fall down, not caring where it lands. The fingers under his chin disappear, as Draco’s head hits something solid. Potter’s shoulder, he realises, when something soft tickles his ear. Potter’s hair.

Draco knows this is wrong. He knows Potter is getting a glimpse of something, Draco has been trying to hide from everyone. He can’t show weakness. He just can’t.

He isn’t sure, at first, if he’s imagining something pressing into his back and the warmth on his cheek, until he tries to turn his head and finds that he can’t. Because Potter’s cheek is pressing into his, his arms are around Draco once more. He’s drawing circles on Draco’s back with his palms rather awkwardly.

Draco really does know this is wrong and he has no idea what possessed Potter to actually try and comfort him, but when Draco feels a warm hand move over his head and begins stroking his hair, Draco closes his eyes and decides that, just for tonight, he will forget about everything that is wrong.

THIS MIGHT BE A REACH BUT I THINK I’M ONTO SOMETHING HERE.

OKAY OKAY SO LISTEN 
There’s a lot of discorse about the new season and that’s understandable BUT I want you guys to look at something with me for a second. 

 I wanna talk about Keith and Lance. We all know Keith’s going through a lot, the blade of marmora is convincing him his own life matters less than the mission, that if he died it would just be for the greater good of the cause. So he’s pulling away, trying to make it so that Voltron doesn’t need him so that he could be… disposable. 

So Keith talks to Shiro and tries to get him to go back to being the black paladin. And *cough cough* fake *cough* Shiro tells him to buckle the heck up and stop whining and just be the black paladin. He doesn’t see, in that moment just what Keith is trying to do. So he gets mad. 

This is a face of pure dissapointment in Shiro. And Keith sees it. He really sees it, and feels it too. But he doesnt know what to do about it.

He’s the lone wolf, right? He doesn’t know how to function in a team properly. In the B.O.M he’s much more independant. Yes, he gets orders and people he goes on with missions but if you really watch most of those missions involve very little teamwork. 

So Keith is pulling away, but at the same time he’s getting the rejection from everyone in the team that’s pushing him away. When he shows up late in the begining of episode one Hunk, Pidge and Lance are super pissed at him, right? 

Right? 

No, go back and look at Lance. He’s not angry. He’s worried. 

Yeah, he says “Are you even taking this seriously?” But think about it. Keith is someone who throws himself into missions. He takes everything he does seriously and he puts a 100% of himself into what he does. He doesn’t half ass things, and it pays off. He gets results. 

Lance is used to seeing Keith do well. At the Garrison he was top of the class, when he was still with Voltron he usually spent his free time training. And now, all of a sudden he’s late to missions, falling behind while he’s the leader. 

Not only that but remember this scene? 

 Again,everyone looks super pissed right? No look at Lance. 

And remember the dialogue? 

Allura:You keep saying you’re sorry but your actions say otherwise. Do you realise that your actions put the entire team in jeoprady? 
Lance: And not Just the team but the refugees too. 

and again, look at his face as he says it. 

He’s not angry. He’s confused there. Think about it. What did Keith tell Pidge when she tried to leave? That other people’s lives were at stake if she left. Keith cares about the people he’s out there protecting. Lance understands that this is not how Keith normally is. 

We know that they got closer in season 3 with Lance opening up to Keith and all and you might even call them friends. Sure he’s not as close as (the real) Shiro is to Keith, but he’s close enough to see Keith isn’t himself. 

But what if… what if Keith did open up. 

I get that this might be somewhat of a reach BUT if you watch Keith’s vlog, it’s very likely he wasn’t alone when he filmed it (he looks like he’s talking to someone off camera. but also tells them to get them out of there. Not only that but the camera turns off and from how emotional he got and the way he was walking its unlikely he turned it off and if you watch Allura’s vlog, she definitely gets closer to turn it off). Now my first thought would be that seeming it’s tech related it would be likely that Pidge would be with him. 

But it doesn’t seem like something that Pidge would be into. Sitting and making vlogs with the paladins. Not her style. 

Okay so maybe Coran? He was the first to upload a vlog, and the camera might be some castle gear? Sounds reasonable enough. But why only be there for Keith’s vlog? Allura was definitely alone during her’s. Also, I dont see them having the kind of bond where Keith would say any of that to Coran. No offense Space unc, we love you. 

OKAY so not Coran or Pidge… so maybe Allura? 

No, the bond isn’t strong enough. As someone who is pretty similar to Keith in defense mechanisms, I don’t see him trusting her to a point where he’s this open with her especially after what happened the last time he opened up about his Galra identity. 

(We all know where I’m going with this, but for argument’s sake; I will keep going. Feel free to skip ahead.) 

Okay so Hunk maybe? He has the tech know-how and stood up for Keith during the whole Galra thing. Even if he did tease him a little… Okay but even then they haven’t really had much bonding since then. I suppose it’s possible if Keith was feeling particularly vulnerable and whatever. But… Would Hunk really bother Keith to make a vlog? and would Keith ask Hunk to help with a vlog? 

It doesn’t really seem in character. Yes, they’re closer but still… not close enough. 

So that leaves Shiro and Lance. First, lets look at why I don’t think it’s Shiro. 

As we know Shiro is someone Keith looks up to. He’s always extremely respectful towards him and it shows in his facial expressions and way of speaking. 

but then look at this; 

Thats not a face Keith would make at Shiro.

You know who he does make faces like that at? 

L A N C E 

So lets think about this. Does Lance have the tech know how? Well he’s always stealing Pidge’s shit so I’mma go ahead and say, yeah to that one. Allura seems equally technically inclined as Lance, so seeming she has no trouble with it that makes sense. 

And even if Keith didn’t ask Lance to help him with his vlog, you know what does seem Lance like? Suggesting Keith makes a vlog. 

So lets asume here, for a moment that Lance knows about Keith’s abandonment issues. That would explain why he looks so worried in the screenshot from before, right? He knows Keith is feeling rejected by his team and he knows that Keith’s behaviour has changed since he started working more with the blade. 

But while they got closer in season 3, and Lance has a better understanding of Keith now, I also think Keith was eager to put some distance between them after that outburst. So he starts working with the blade a lot, right? Meaning Lance hardly sees him. 

So they take a few steps back in their friendship.

And then Kolivan calls Keith to a mission that they all know will be dangerous and look at Lance’s face. 

Yes, you could read it as Lance not wanting his spotlight gone BUT remember that Lance isn’t as shallow as he seems at first glance. He’s not the loverboy he pretends to be and few realise it, but he masks a lot of his emotions. 

Yes, Lance thrives on attention. But do you really think that he would prioritise a show over a mission that could give them a great boost in power? No, this isn’t about the show, this goes deeper. He’s worried. He’s worried about Keith. 

He doesn’t want him to go. He needs him around. But he cant tell him that. Especially not in front of everyone. 

So what does Lance do? 

He makes a stupid argument, its not much, but it’s all he’s got. “We can’t razzle dazzle the crowd with four lions.” 
We need you, I need you. Thats what he’s trying to say. 

And Keith refuses. 

So Lance has that same expression. He’s looking at Shiro in dissbelief this time because he can’t believe he’s letting him go. 

So what we’ve established thus far is the following; 

-Lance definitely feels closer to Keith than he used to. 
-Lance was probably there during Keith’s vlog.
-Lance isn’t as straight forward as people think he is. 
-There’s probably some distance between them right now. 
-Lance has noticed Keith’s change in behaviour. 

So with all that in mind, do you really think Lance doesn’t see that Keith is in a bad place. He knows something is up. He can feel Keith pulling and he’s trying to tell him that they need him around but he doesn’t know how to say it. And then… then Keith tells them he’s leaving. 

yeah, everyone looks sad, but look at Lance. He looks deep in thought. What do you think he’s thinking? He just realised he lost Keith. And he gets it. Suddenly it all makes sense. Keith more or less reforced the bond between Black and Shiro and he was acting strange, showing up late. This is what’s been up with Keith and Lance finally figure out that this whole time, he was losing Keith. 

But he gives it one last try. 

Who am I going to make fun of? 

It’s so much more than a playfull jab. Think about it. Really think about it. 

“Who am I going to make fun of?”

Who am I gonna talk to? 

Don’t go. 

Adding to canon is not the same thing as destroying canon

At San Diego Comic Con, we learned that Sonequa Martin-Green’s character, Michael Burnham, is Sarek’s adoptive daughter. The second I heard the news, all I could think was, “Let the hate begin.” And boy, did it ever.

I understand the disappointment, particularly with fan fic writers who invested a lot of time and effort into crafting stories that fit neatly into canon. Amazing how one sound bite can bulldoze right through decades of widely accepted fanon, huh?

Keep reading

Q&A Malec and marriage

blacknightwolf said:Hello! I was just curious about Magnus and Alec. I know they’ve been together for years now in TDA, but I can’t remember if it was ever mentioned if they were married. Would Alec and Magnus ever get married and if they were to, would either one take the others last name? I know both of their names mean a lot to them so I was wondering what the would decide! Thanks for taking the time to look at this!

Magnus and Alec would love to get married. They’re committed to the end either way, but the reason they haven’t gotten married yet is because they decided not to until there were equal privileges and rights accorded to Downworlder-Shadowhunter marriages as there are for Shadowhunter marriages. They had this discussion in Born to Endless Night, in Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy:

“Shadowhunters can marry Downworlders,” Magnus said, “in Downworlder or mundane ceremonies. I’ve seen it happen. I’ve seen other Shadowhunters dismiss those marriages as meaning nothing, and I’ve seen some Shadowhunters bow under pressure and break the vows they made. I know you would never bow or break. I know that type of marriage would mean just as much to you. I know that any promises you made me, you would keep. But I was alive before the Accords. I sat and ate and talked with Shadowhunters about peace between our people, and then those same Shadowhunters threw away the plates I ate off because they thought I irredeemably tainted whatever I touched. I will not have a ceremony that anyone looks down on as lesser. I do not want you to have any less than the ceremony you could have had, to honor your vows to a Shadowhunter. I have had enough of making compromises in the name of trying to make peace. I want the Law to change. I do not want to get married until we can get married in gold.”

Alec was quiet, his head bowed.

“Do you understand?” Magnus demanded, feeling almost desperate. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s not that I don’t love you.” 

“I understand,” said Alec. He took a deep breath and looked up. “Changing the Law might take a while,” he said simply.

For instance. If Magnus and Alec were to get married, they would likely want to hyphenate their last name to Lightwood-Bane. Part of what it would mean for them to have equal privileges and rights is that their hyphenated name be considered valid by the Clave. Lightwood-Bane isn’t a Shadowhunter name. The Ascended have to pick Shadowhunter names, and there are no Shadowhunters whose names aren’t okayed by the Clave. So this means that the Clave would need to allow Alec to use the hyphenated name in order for it to be considered his official name. (If he used it against their wishes, they wouldn’t kick him out of the Nephilim, but they wouldn’t acknowledge it as a real last name.) It would also mean that Rafe would get to pick if he wanted to be Rafe Lightwood or Rafe Lightwood-Bane, as opposed to having to hew to the standard usage of Shadowhunter last names (which would mean he’d have to go by Lightwood).

An enormous part of Alec’s identity and also Magnus are wrapped up, in different ways, in their fight for equality, in their demands for recognition and not just tolerance, but rights. It’s why they head up the Downworlder-Shadowhunter Alliance and why that’s so important to both of them. In the end, that Alliance — it’s existence, and Alec’s leadership of it — is a huge part of what tips the balance of good and evil, more than any Institute or Conclave could ever do. Part of what make Alec and Magnus so well-suited (and part of what shows how much Alec has grown from a young man who often made snap judgments, and believed prejudices he’d been taught, to a warrior and defender of the marginalized) is that they’re not willing to accept compromises: when they get married, it’ll be in Shadowhunter gold and warlock blue, and it’ll be all the more fantastic and triumphant for that.

Risking it all in a glance

“Draco… Draco.” 

His father’s voice sounded strained, almost like a scared whisper. He hesitantly stretched out his arm, his hand balled into a fist. Draco swallowed hard as several heads turned towards him, watched him. He was sure they all expected him to walk across the courtyard without hesitation. It was where he belonged after all.

All these years he had done as his father had said. He hadn’t defied him once. But now, everything in him screamed to stay where he was, not to go to his father. It came too late. What was the point in defying him now?

Harry Potter was dead. There was no hope left.

“Draco.”

Draco’s eyes darted to his mother. Her voice rang through him and immediately found its way to his heart, squeezing it violently. She took a step forward, smiling at him almost sadly.

“Come.”

Hesitating only a second longer, Draco started moving, his head bowed. He didn’t dare to look anyone in the eye.

Harry Potter was dead. What was the point in fighting?

Draco’s body went rigid when the Dark Lord enveloped him in his arms.

“Well done, Draco,” he whispered into his ear. Draco thought he was going to be sick. Silently, he made his way to his parents, avoiding his father’s waiting arms and grasping his mother’s hand instead.

He tried to suppress a sob when his eyes fell on Potter’s lifeless body, held tight by the half-giant. It made him want to scream, to sink to his knees and beg the heavens to return him. What were they supposed to do without Potter now? What was Draco supposed to do without him?

For the rest of his life, he would be haunted by the knowledge that the last time he had seen Harry Potter alive, the Gryffindor had saved his life, had saved him from the Fiendfyre. And what had Draco done? He had simply grabbed his wand when it had fallen out of Potter’s hand and had made a run for it.

His hand tightened around the wood, making his knuckles go white. It didn’t even feel like his wand anymore. It only reminded him of what he had done. It disgusted him.

He could barely listen as Longbottom stepped forward and told them it didn’t matter that Potter was dead. His heart gave another violent squeeze. He wished he could go back in time. Draco doubted it was in his power to save Potter, but he should have at least told him that he… that he…

Draco saw something sparkly out of the corner of his eyes when suddenly chaos erupted. Longbottom was holding something; it looked like a sword. Draco looked around, taking in the shocked faces of the Death Eaters. That’s when he finally saw it; Potter, jumping out of the half-giant’s arms. In this mere second, Draco’s whole world shifted. It was as if time was standing still. Potter was crouching on the ground, his face full of determination.

Draco’s mind was completely blank. He didn’t think, he didn’t question it when his feet started moving of their own accord.

“Potter!” His voice was choked, desperate. The feeling only intensified when their eyes met. Draco hadn’t thought he’d ever see those eyes again. It made him shiver. He didn’t think about repercussions, about what his parents would say, what the Dark Lord might do to him. How could he, when Harry Potter was alive?

Without a moment’s hesitation, he lifted his arm above his head and threw his wand with all his might. His heart hammered wildly against his chest as he watched Potter catch it mid-air.

They were saved. He was saved.

Even though relief flooded through him, at this point, Draco really didn’t care what happened to him anymore. He had experienced what it meant to lose  nearly everything.

Harry Potter was alive and that was all that mattered.


So, quick intermission because there’s this song you could listen to real quick. Yes, this was indeed inspired by a song originally sung by the Backstreet Boys lol. BUT can you honestly listen to it and tell me this is not one of the most drarry songs you’ve ever heard? I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed before! So, with that in mind, the story continues…


It was quick, fleeting, but it made Harry stop dead, the air completely knocked out of his lungs. Grey eyes, hesitant, sad, locked with his.

Someone bumped into him, breaking the eye contact. Harry whirled around, the shopping bag in his hand hitting the wizard beside him in the back.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled. He quickly turned his head back down Diagon Alley, searching for grey eyes but there were just too many people.

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NYCC Interview Quote:

Interviewer: What would Lance look for in a future Mr. or Mrs. Blue Lion? I’m gonna guess she meant Red Lion now. I think she’s trying to fill out her space Tindr profile. But yea, what is Lance’s–And I like this, because Lance is kind of all over the place. He hits on anything that moves and is pretty, which all the aliens are pretty. But what would he look for, really, in a partner or a soulmate?

Lauren: I don’t know if Lance knows what he needs. I know what he might look for, but what he might look for is not necessarily what he needs. I think he needs someone who is self-assured and knows herself, so that he can kind of become that same person and know himself. [To Joaquim] What do you think?

Joaquim: I mean, I think Lance is evolving. So I think, like Lauren said, whoever Lance chooses, I think what he’s looking for is getting to a place that is maybe very different than where he started in the series. 

Joaquim and Lauren discuss attributes of a love interest for Lance

Cuddle Styles

I saw @aidens-archive make a post like this about the Dunkirk cast, showing how they all might like to snuggle up, and I was totally inspired! So here’s how I think our Painfully Thick™ gentlemen would cuddle…

Jason Momoa This guy. There’s no way he can cuddle without trying to get it in, ya know what I mean? He’s a rough-around-the-edges kind of guy, and that’s exactly how he cuddles - tossing you onto the bed and rolling around with you between the sheets.

Henry Cavill Superman is the ultimate big spoon. And what could be better than having those big, bulging arms wrapped around you? He’d nuzzle into your hair, whispering sweet thoughts into your ear as you fell asleep.

Tom Hardy This big beefy puppy. He’s got that tough guy exterior, but deep down, he’s an emotional, cuddly guy. He’d want you to hold him, soothe him, protect him. He’d be happy falling asleep in each other’s arms whenever possible.

Tom Holland He’s such a fun, light-hearted guy and cuddling with him would be just the same. He’d be playful and active, unable to stay in the same position for long. He’d play with your hair, tickle you, and give you kisses on your nose.

Chris Pine Chris is an old-school, romantic type. He’ll want to shower you in affection, kissing on you the entire time. He loves sweaters and blankets, so he’ll always have a big fluffy comforter to wrap you up in when the weather turns cold.

Sebastian Stan HO BOY what I wouldn’t do to snuggle this man. I think he’d be a quiet cuddler - wrapping himself around you, intertwining arms, legs, souls; holding you close for as long as you needed. Making sure that HE is the peaceful, calming place for you to be at the end of the day.

Chris Evans Whereas Hardy is the cuddly puppy, Evans is the mischievous, troublemaker puppy. He’ll want to be face-to-face, looking into your eyes at all times. His hands will always be fussing over you, whether they be playing with your hair or unhooking your bra. He’ll never cross the line, but always be pushing boundaries to see what he can get away with.

Tom Hiddleston Oh, Hiddles. He’s going to hold you in his arms like a treasure. What’s important to him is your comfort, your happiness. He’d never want to let you go, kissing you on the forehead every chance he got, telling you exactly how much you mean to him.

So what do y’all think!? Reply/reblog with your thoughts! I had so much fun making this; is it something you guys would want to see more of? 😏💖

“mccree can’t be cree!! he is from the southwest!” 1. there’s this thing called “moving” where people like, take their belongings from place to place and live there for a little bit and 2. mixed people also exist. it is not unrealistic at all for Jesse to be cree and latino or cree and whatever else you feel like he might be! but what IS unrealistic is mccree being white and straight. just look at him

More KatsuDeku Thoughts/Ramblings

The other day I was seeing a lot of people complaining about hate in both the ‘Katsudeku’ and ‘Bakudeku’ tags, but to be honest, I didn’t see it. I suppose I must have the right people blocked.

But, it did get me thinking about things that people love to bring up when discussing the “p r o b l e m a t i c” elements of this ship. Two big ones in particular come to mind.

One has already been discussed to death, and I hope to jeezus I never have to talk about it myself. Yes, Bakugo told Deku to jump off a building. It’s horrible and despicable and I would never defend such awful behavior. It was simple shorthand for Horikoshi to establish Bakugo as an unremorseful jerk. Congrats, dude. It worked.

The second thing, however, is something I could talk about at length.

So I will.

Let’s talk about THIS.

Warning: this is a goddamn long post. Pour yourself a drink.

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anonymous asked:

For Drarry can you do one based on the short film "In a Heartbeat" where Harry is the one pining? Like maybe he gets hit by a spell or maybe not, you choose :) much love darling!

this was a rly cute prompt and I wish I did it earlier.


After Professor Slughorn had uttered those fateful words, Harry felt like he might faint. The potion he was to make was something about heart’s desire or whatever, he wasn’t really paying attention until he caught a bit of what the potion would do if he succeeded. Harry could easily just butcher the potion, however he couldn’t afford another failing grade. It was settled, he’d have to try his best.

For the first time since eighth year started, Harry’s mind wasn’t focused on the tall blonde in the front of the classroom. Slughorn told them to start brewing and everyone took out their ingredients. Harry inhaled deeply before starting what would surely bring about his end. Who knew that after killing the darkest wizard of all time his downfall would be caused by humiliation and rejection?

With shaky fingers, he brewed his potion. He swore silently to himself as he read the instructions. It looked like it was exceptionally easy to make and getting anything below an Exceeds Expectations would be laughable. After about a dozen times of Hermione asking if he was okay and Ron poking fun as to who his heart’s desire might be, he finished the potion. Harry looked up from his cauldron to see that little colourful orbs had appeared over the other students potions and zoomed across the room to the closed door. It seemed as though the orbs were solid and could not force their way through the wood.

Harry smiled softly at his best friends when he saw their orbs fuse together. The colour shined brighter than any of the other orbs in the room. Ron’s face burned red. Even after they’d been dating for a few months he still got extremely flustered. Hermione laughed and pulled him into a side hug after kissing his cheek. Harry suddenly remembered his own potion. He noticed that his orb (that was a deep scarlet) was halfway across the room. He ran after it, catching it just in time, though it’s pull felt almost magnetic.

Harry tried his best to pull it back to his seat in the back, panting slightly. He look over at Draco, who was also holding his orb, unlike the others how had merely let them float by the door. Harry got distracted as he so often did when the blonde was involved. His grip on the orb slackened and it slipped from his hand. He wasn’t quick enough this time, watching in despair as it zoomed up to Draco. The boy was too focused on his orb to notice Harry’s floating next to him.

Harry slowly made his way up to it, hoping the movement wouldn’t attract Draco’s attention. He held his hand out and prepared to snatch it, however it moved at the last second, nudging up against Draco’s shoulder. Harry stood, petrified, as Draco turned. He looked at the red ball and then at Harry. His eyes widened, putting his unoccupied hand over his mouth.

He looked around and saw that the other students, along with the professor, were staring intently. The classroom was silent. He looked at his glowing scarlet orb then to Draco’s shocked face then down at his feet.

“Harry.” He heard him say quiety. Harry kept his gaze fixed on his shoes. “Harry, look at me.” He slowly lifted his head, but wouldn’t meet Draco’s eyes. He felt too ashamed. Draco held up his orb, which Harry now saw was mint green, and let it go. It hovered for a moment before colliding with his own. The reaction caused the light to be so bright that Harry had to shield his eyes. It dulled down, so he could properly see Draco again. He had a shy smile playing on his lips as he started down at the collided orbs. Harry grinned at him. Perhaps after all he’s been through, something good was bound to happen, and he couldn’t be more happy that Draco was his something good.

About Damn Time

Originally posted by canonspngifs

Anon request: could you please write a dean x reader fic where they end up locked in a confined space together that starts as annoyance but leads to more? and they’ve been hunting together a while but always had an antagonistic/teasing relationship to cover up that they have feelings for each other

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,000

Warnings: SMUT (that’s right, I wrote some smut. Can’t say it’s good, but it’s there) language, mention of death, minor angst, lots of sass

A/N: This is also for @wayward-marvel-sommer1196​‘s sarcastic writing challenge! Sorry I’m a little late - honestly I’m shocked and thrilled it didn’t take longer to finish this. Thanks for the fun challenge, and have a great semester, hun! (my prompt was "Oh, I offended you with my opinion? You should hear the ones I keep to myself…" and is in bold)

A/N/N: Look guys, a thing that isn’t firefighter Dean! It’s a miracle!

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Rest Stop Part 4

When Lance woke up, his arm wasn’t a bloody mess anymore and he could hear something other than his heartbeat trying to dash out of his body. Exhaling, he scanned the room and realized the quite chatter he heard was from upstairs. It was probably the refugees. He blinked.

The refugees. Wait.

Sleep chamber knees or not, Lance scrambled out of the pod, his armor ruining the impact of the floor when he tripped. Lance kind of needed something to smack some sense in him as he frantically ran for the door.

Keith? Is Keith okay? Is Pidge? Where’s the team? I don’t see anyone in a pod, so that either means everything’s okay or someone’s dead-

Where’s my helmet?

Really, Lance? Now? Of all times?

The itch for to find it doesn’t make much sense until Lance remembers there are communication systems in his helmet. I’m a genius!

After three seconds of looking around the room like an idiot, Lance spots it on top of his folded jacket and jeans. His shoes sat next to them. Someone must have thought to leave them there for him, which was nice, but he wasn’t going to take off his armor until he knew no one was dead or in danger. Picking it up, he pushes it on his head and sighs as it turns on at his DNA signature. “Hello, anyone there?”

“Lance!” Allura’s pleased voice overwhelms him for a second, but he focuses on what she says. “I’m glad you’re awake. All the prisoners are located in the ballroom, and there were only a handful of injuries. Your fellow paladins are safe and doing recon at the moment. You can change into your regular clothes and join them in you wish, but Coran and I wouldn’t mind you hanging back.”

He smiles. Good, everyone was accounted for. “Nah, I’ll go.” He says, shucking off the armor on his calves. He pulls it off while Allura chatters on. “Okay, I’ll send them a message to let them know you woke up and will be joining them shortly. They’re on the coast of this island, which is relatively small, so you’ll be fine walking out the castle door and straight. Rest up when you’re done. We can’t have a paladin tired from battle injuries. Don’t think you can get away with it either. Hunk has a drone with him that monitors the rescue and I will see if you try anything reckless.”

“Okay, Allura.” He laughs, removing his chest plate. She huffs, and says goodbye, the switches off the coms. Lance pulls off his helmet and peels away his flight suit. His back is wide, exposed, and easy to see.

He knows. He knows. He should hurry.


Keith toes a thick chip of metal, flipping it over in a pile of rubble. They’ve just cleared out another jetty, reeling in prisoners with Pidge’s bayard on the floating escape pods, and pointing out the direction they should walk for help. A furry pile of three distinct round mounds hops past quickly, fluffy pastel fur tickling the other colors. It chirps in thanks before speeding up. Cold, dry hands pat Keith on the arm in gratitude as a leathery mix of tree and human walks past, thin legs extending to move the whole body like it’s floating above it.

He huffs. He wants Lance.

Yeah, he could admit it. Lance, was a solid person to have beside him. He always had Keith’s back, he was loyal and funny, and he had just taken a bullet for him. He wanted to make sure he was okay. He wouldn’t stop looking back, searching for a rustle in the bushes and a bright smile, his heart lighter but impatient without Lance.

Keith sighed and crossed his arms, smiling tiredly.

Yeah, he really couldn’t wait to have his sharpshooter by his side again.

After all, a good team takes two.


Lance tugs on the waistband of his jeans and slips on his shoes.

His armor is a heap on the floor in front of the pod - he’ll have to come pick it up later. Anxiety twirls around by his feet and dances up towards his back. His exposed back. There’s a problem. He needs to cover his tan skin immediately. But he hadn’t been left a shirt. He’d have to wear just his jacket and not take it off.

They did “salvage” in casual clothes for a reason. The armor, as protective as it was, added weight. It might have been light and flexible, but it still got in the way of some maneuvers, and if someone fell in water, it would weigh them down. Even if the helmet had life support, it only lasted so long. There were too many “what if’s” when it came to the armor and water. Their best chance at surviving was getting to the surface as fast as possible. Unnecessary weight would slow them down.

Funny how Lance was only physically light. He sunk like a rock everywhere else.

It was ironic how many people would want him to drown when he was the only one who could swim.

Stuffing his arms inside, Lance shrugged on his jacket, and zipped it up. He passed through the halls like a ghost, the survivors busy chattering around him. Demon held inside his jacket, he walked out into the semi tropical rainforest.


It was the worst possible situation.

Lance had just brushed past a leafy bush to have the sea roar in his ears and salt hit his lips. The team was hovering over the rocky coast that disappeared into the blue ocean, craving to save the pod tittering on a small cliff of rock, but unable to risk crossing the water. The pod was absolutely trashed , the spike of obsidian piercing the buoyancy - if it fell, it’d sink to the bottom. Flying out would get them both killed - the pod could fall and take one of the team down, trapping them in the waves, and both the prisoners and them would drown. But what made it horribly, horribly worse was who was in the pod.

“Dad! Matt!”

Two recongzinable faces peered out the door way, the door probably having been ripped off in the crash. Matt was gripping the edge, bracing himself and using his leg to hold back a weary Samuel Holt. He was definitely injured, unconcious, the small trail of dark blood dripping off into the ocean. The sea rocked and churned underneath them, an uncomplete death sentence, and the pod creaked ominously, ready to give in and crash at any second. Dread sat heavy on Lance’s tongue.

“Katie…”

Shiro was grasping Pidge by a hand, his face terrified but trying to gain control. Pidge wasn’t struggling against Shiro- she was struggling against herself, desperation written in her features, but the menacing roll of the ocean warded her away. All she wanted was to save them, Lance could tell, but her body was screaming to flee the water, to fly, to escape being dragged from the sky, dragged to a heavy, wet death. Hunk and Keith looked like a watered down version - scared, cautious motions back and forth, unsure and scared.

Lance’s hand was already playing with his zipper.

Everything about Matt screamed tense and near frantic. Tensed like a cat, his body locked against the open air, sagging like an acrobat on ropes, Matt clearly was trying to find a way out of this without killing himself, his dad, or his sister. But he hadn’t found a possibility. If he moved, the pod would tilt with his weight, or his dad would fall into the water. No one could fly out to them - he’d have to get off himself. But he couldn’t move, the floor of the pod wrecked with a spike behind him and Samuel supported by his leg.

Lance could be that possibility.

Like a sick bird that had finally had enough, the pod plummeted in the water with the screech of torn metal.

Pidge’s heartbroken scream matched it.

Lance was tearing out of his shoes and jacket, tossing it in the sand, head leaps and bounds ahead of him. Sand kicked up from his sprint sprayed the droid and the team as he raced past. Lance could feel their incredulous stares go from the flooded hunk of metal to his bare back, but it didn’t freeze the determination in his veins. He dove in the water with a splash.

Calm was the first word in his mind when the swirling blue washed over his head. It was calm here, the gentle roll of the current miles below him. He was light, weightless. The second word was control. In water, Lance was in command, a quiet authority. He pushed and pulled himself along, arms scooping out his way. Quick, strong kicks brought him to the submerged metal ship, and he pressed two hands to the metal, looking for the window. This ocean wasn’t his, wasn’t theirs’s. They needed to get out soon.

Gliding in through the empty window frame, Lance slinked up to search over the jagged metal and broken, dead wires. Matt’s transfixed face meet his. His eyebrows furrowed, and for someone who should be drowning, he was doing remarkably well at staying calm.

Matt stared at him as if he was a mirage almost, but Lance could tell Matt was the kind who didn’t care as long as they didn’t die. Tapping the roof of cramped pod, Lance waited for Matt to nod before reaching over and working Samuel over the barrier with him, pulling the older man into his arms. A cut craved out a thin line across his calf, a blood came from a smaller one of his head. He was clearly passed out and needed to be brought to the surface ASAP. Lance smiled and held up one finger, then two. Realizing Lance would come back for him, Matt nodded sagely and floated back.

Propelling off the wall, Lance left water dragging behind him. The weight in his arms was incredible - the man wasn’t much shorter than him but had to weigh almost twice as much with his wings.

Thick and waterlogged, they curved and looked fluffy like Pidge’s. Lowered with age, his wings dragged behind him like a pair of broken airplane wings. Streaked with brown and gray darker than Pidge’s, they’d ironically cause the man they made light to drown like an anchor if Lance let go.

He doesn’t dare tempt this new ocean.

Breaking past the surface with a gasp, Lance clutches Samuel to his chest and awkwardly swims to shore with one arm. Scrambling up the loose, wet clumps of sand, he ignores the stricken staring of them team and flips Samuel on his back.

He starts pumping Samuel’s chest.

Come on, come on.

He’s on a time limit, damnit!

He pushes harder, and Samuel suddenly jerks against him, coughing water out of his lungs. Lance takes the second to arrange him on his side so he doesn’t choke on his own vomit, then dashes back into the ocean. His kicks are a last-ditch effort that pay off, literally almost ramming himself into the pod. He yanks himself through the window and nearly slices his hand open on the broken metal wall. He might not be able to fly, but he can swim and save someone drowning. He can. He can, no matter how worthless he is. It is called a trash can - not a trash cannot. (He thinks that’s a line from some anime, but he doesn’t have time to really ask himself if he made a refrence while saving someone drowning. He probably did).

Matt’s lips are turning blue when Lance arrives. His jaw is set and cheeks ballooned out, precious oxygen held inside. Quickly, he reaches out to Lance, who helps him over the wreckage. Wrapping his arms around Lance’s neck, he tucks himself against his body. Lance latches an arm around him, careful to hook it under his wings. They are near replicas of Pidge’s, though clearly entering the final stages. Less childish, more rectangular in design, with darker hints of brown. The tops poke Lance gently in the face, but the bottoms are pressed to Matt’s knees.

Using the smooth sheet of metal as a boost, Lance rushed up to the surface, leaving the pod to sink even faster than before. The distance was greater, the weight heavy, and the time less, but he’d have wings before he let go of Matt.

Bobbing to the surface, he gulps in air. Matt is sucking in giant breathes against his neck, giggling and trembling with relief. He even happy kick-spams to shore with Lance.

But relief is far, far, away from Lance.

The weight of a wingless world crashes on his back, so, so much heavier than Matt or Samuel.

His shoes are too far away.

Shit.

He doesn’t wait for the team to ask questions, doesn’t give the anxiety and self hate a chance to strike, snatching up his jacket. There’s a quick “Hey-” before water is filling his ears again, and he’s swimming out, swimming away. Desperation and adrenaline sing in his veins, overruling this sea’s temper. This isn’t his ocean. The pushes and pulls are closer to shoves and yanks, semi-aggressively telling him to leave, but Lance makes his way through anyhow. Currents a similar shade of blue to the ones from Earth twirl around him, tiny air bubbles decorating them like stars. It’s frigid, a cold, agitated embrace that makes Lance burn in a satisfying way. He wasn’t like the others, he couldn’t be. No one wanted a wingless. Nothing was ever permanent, not even love.

Lance comes up for air, swallowing a lungful before smoothing back down into the deep. The few seconds he’s up, he hears the team,incomprehensible , but they’ve figured out he’s leaving. Fear pounding at the brittle door calm forces up in his head, Lance dives deeper, the water turning darker without the sunlight. He can still see, but the water is a murky, dusty blue, not the clear, aqua where the light reflects easily. His speed is probably breaking any records he’s had before. Nothing like the people you came to love hating you to make you have a lighting fast exit.

Rocketing through the water, Lance left giant disturbances in his wake. Air bubbles burst out of existence behind him. He had already shifted when he came up for air - his hands curved out his path with the webbing, and the water pressure boxed gently on his ears. His knees weren’t knees anymore, just two long, flat masses of flesh and bone that shot him through the water. The second pair of eyelids he had blinked out any grime in the water, the rhythm different and more pronounced than his first pair. His tongue pressed against the sharp eyeteeth in his mouth, the threat of nicking his tongue grounding him.

He doesn’t know how long he swims, limbs throbbing with fluid energy. He goes until rocks start to spike up, some gentle curves and other sudden daggers slicing through the water. Miles below, he can spot the muddled, bright light purple and galaxy red glow of underwater volcanoes in the darkness. Lance hasn’t seen anything alive yet, but he knew better than to test it by exploring near lava.

Gliding up against the smooth rock, Lance spots the openings to caves, pretty corals fanning out from them and shells dotted here and there. Clutching his jacket tighter, he twists through one. It’s small, and hallow, the water pooling much lower than the majority of the rock. The roaring of the waves crashing washes over the cave, but the cave shelters him. Coal black rock juts out here and there, blocky, but gorgeous in the way only sea caves were. Soft colored crystals lit up small patches of shadow, a handful clustered around an alcove.

Carefully, he clambers up the dry rock to the opening and settles back into it, his knees pulled to his chest, cheek resting against the even rock. The anxiety coils up inside his neck.

Now they despise you.

I mean, why wouldn’t they?

Even you despise you.

Useless, ugly, waste of space. Wingless.

Just drown in that goddamn ugly water you call home.

It suits you.

Nothing but extra weight.

God, why do you exist?

Chilly air pricks at Lance’s bare feet. He tucks himself tighter, wriggling his toes. His jacket is drenched, but he drapes it around the exposed parts of his back. He clings to the rock, hoping the warmth will come back. He’s not freezing, but numb, like rain soaked pavement.

Leave already!

He could stop here, lulled by the tune of a sea that wasn’t his, void emotions filling up his silhouette, abandoned by himself, half asleep in a crevice with a mundane storm brewing over head.

Yes, this would make a good rest stop.

anonymous asked:

Disney's Hercules: Is wonder boy for real here?

Draco pauses mid-word and nearly drops his quill as he looks up in surprise.  Surely he’s misheard.

“Fine, I’ll do.”  Potter’s voice is full of confidence.

“Mate, I dunno, I mean surely that’s not a fair dare.”

Seamus laughs.  Draco thinks he looks a bit drunk, and excited.  Not that he should be surprised since its Seamus after all.  “There are no rules in truth or dare, Ron!”

“Harry, I know you don’t want to lose but I’m not sure this is a good idea.”  Hermione’s voice sounds level headed.  At least one of them does he thinks.  

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts and tries to focus on his essay again, still not entirely sure why he’s in the 8th year common room studying instead of his dorm room.  Morbid curiosity perhaps.  Definitely not so he can watch Potter.

“Hermione’s right.  It’s fucking freezing, Harry.  Literally.  You’re going to freeze your bits off!”

“I don’t care.  A dare is a dare.  I’m not losing.”

At this Draco can stand it no longer, finally setting his quill down and looking up at the rest of the 8th years sitting in a sort of half circle around the fireplace.  “Is wonder boy for real here?”

Draco’s voice makes several people jump.  He rolls his eyes.  They’d probably all forgotten he was even in the room.

“No one asked you, Malfoy.”  

Draco doesn’t even bristle at the tone.  He doesn’t take it personally, not anymore.  He knows Weasley has been jealous lately of the tentative friendship he and Potter have struck up since becoming roommates.

“It’s a dare,”Potter says again, shrugging, as if that explains it all.  Draco wonders how on earth he could like someone so unconcerned with self preservation or their own dignity.  He must be crazy.

“What does he get if he does it?” Draco asks, suddenly deciding that he doesn’t want to stop the other boy, because he would much rather watch.

“Get?  Nothing.  That’s not how truth or dare works,” Hermione answers, looking back and forth between Potter and himself with a curious expression.

“Well, its a rather large dare isn’t it?  Seems like maybe he should get a reward if he does it,” Draco replies, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

He watches as Potter swallows.  Potter licks his lips and stares right at Draco.  “Like what?” 

“Why the bloody hell should he get a reward?  He already said he would do the dare.” Seamus all but shouts, and Dean leans over to whisper something in his ear that makes Seamus blink a few times before closing his mouth.

“That would depend on who would be giving the reward.”  Draco tries to sound uninterested.

“You volunteering?” Potter asks, the smile on his face makes Draco’s heart race.

Draco shrugs.  “Might be.”

“What the bloody fuck is going on?” Ron asks in bewilderment.  “Harry, stop.  I’m begging you.  You cannot fly around the pitch in the buff.”

Draco can hear Potter’s footsteps as he crosses the room to stand in front of him, but he doesn’t dare look up until he hears the other boy’s voice.  “What’s my reward?”

Finally Draco looks up, and his breathe catches in his throat at the look on Potter’s face.  “Guess you won’t know unless you do it?”

Potter’s face breaks out in a smile, the cocky bastard.  “He leans forward, so close Draco can smell the firewhiskey on his breathe; it makes him feel almost drunk even though he hasn’t had a single drink.  “You’re on, Malfoy.”

Draco doesn’t know what posses him to grab the front of Potter’s jumper and pull him down into a bruising kiss.  His ears are ringing and he can hear the other’s shouting, he thinks someone might even be whistling, but all Draco cares about is the way Potter’s hair feels sliding through his fingers and the way he taste he chocolate and alcohol.

Draco pulls back to catch his breath, smiling at the look on other boy’s face.

“Thought I didn’t get my reward until after I did my dare,” he whispers.

“That wasn’t your reward, that was just a hint for what you’ll get when you get back.”

And as Potter takes off running through the portrait hole, peeling off his jumper and trousers as he goes, Draco can’t help but think that Potter might be the one doing the dare, but its definitely he who has won tonight.


Read Here on AO3

palenoface  asked:

Yo I just watched season 4 and I was wondering... Is it just me or Shiro is confusing Keith with mixed signals ? First he asks him to lead then he gives him orders but after that he's all "you're the leader keith you have to make a decision" I mean what the hell ? It's all so confusing I don't get it

And now that I think of it it might be one of the reasons why Keith leaved Voltron to join the Blade…

Yes, Shiro has actually contradicted himself on numerous occasions. But I like to think that this is because of Kuron. Despite having the same memories, Kuron does not share the same values as Shiro.

-

If Kuron ends up not being a legitimate thing, and it turns out the Shiro from season 3 and 4 was in fact the real Shiro, then I’m going to pretty disappointed on how the writers treated Shiro’s character. Shiro has proven time and time again that he’s a father figure first, and he’s a general leading people into war second. He cares about his team, but in season 3 and 4, he brushed aside his team’s feelings.

If you ask me, the Shiro from Season 3 and 4 seems to follow the mentality of “The mission is more important than the individual.” Which is funny because that seems to be the mentality of all the Galra, whether they’re part of the bom or not.

anonymous asked:

If your ask box is still open what about damien having to deal with the aftermath of a broken hearted son?

Damien is relieved when he hears the sound of the car pulling up in the driveway. It’s a bit later than the curfew he set for Lucien, and he’s prepared to lecture him sternly for making him worried as soon as he walks through the door. He waits on the couch, posed perfectly to make the ideal ‘strict father’ facade that he hopes will make Lucien respect his authority a little bit more.

And he waits.

And keeps waiting.

It takes ten minutes for Damien to realize that none of the doors in the house had opened, and unless Lucien planned on trying to sneak into his room (unsuccessful for the first time) he’s still outside. Probably trying to prepare his excuses-but not tonight. Damien’s actually mad this time, and he won’t let Lucien continue to walk all over him.

Throwing his cloak over his shoulders, Damien stands and marches straight out the door. Sure enough, his car is parked in the driveway, and with it, he can make out Lucien’s form in the driver’s seat, sitting in the dark.

Damien is about to approach and give the teen what’s what when he realizes he’s completely hunched over in his seat. And visibly shaking. And if he were closer, Damien’s sure he would hear the rare sound of his son crying.

He returns inside without a second thought.

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anonymous asked:

I don't know if requests are open or closed but: Reactions for the S!O having an anxiety attack?

Robert- Robert wouldn’t be quite too sure about what to do the first time you have an anxiety attack in front of him, but he would try his best to calm you down by taking you to a calmer and more private setting. He would kiss your forehead and pull you in for a hug(as long as it wouldn’t make you more nervous) and once you two were home he would get you all comfy on the couch and bring you something to snack on.

Damien- Damien would be prepared for the moment and would make sure he knew what helped beforehand. Despite being prepared he would still be a little jumpy at first but would be able to react quickly anyways.

Brian- Brian would be very physically affectionate and would hug you tightly and rock you back and forth slowly. He often times might try to talk to you to distract you from whatever was making you so anxious.

Craig- Craig’s they type of guy to approach things with health shit and exercise so it that respect he would probably make you something like a smoothie or just grab you a drink and would try to take you out of that situation. He might try to get you to go outside and walk it off with him but if you didn’t feel up to that he would be more than happy to sit down somewhere as you cuddle up next to him.

Joseph- Joseph would be a little surprised in the moment you have an anxiety attack because he most likely wasn’t expecting it but he would ask you if you were alright, and upon you saying no he would have you sit down and would try to talk through the situation and ask about what he could do to help.

Hugo- Hugo has dealt with many anxiety attacks in his time as a teacher and has come prepared. He would have already discussed what he should do to help you before so that he could be ready for this moment. He would spew dumb funny facts to try and distract you from the stressful situation.

Mat- Mat isn’t always the best with these kinds of situations but he can relate. He knows how it feels to be in a panic and he tries to help you the best he knows how. If he can remove you from the situation and take you to a quiet place then he’ll try to say things to cheer you up but when that doesn’t always work he hums/sings to you softly to relax you.

-Mod Pablo

anonymous asked:

Could you do either jealous!draco or jealous!harry? You're writing is amazing btw!!!💚

thanks for 5k followers!


“I can’t believe Potter is dating that she-weasel!” Draco groaned and threw himself on an armchair dramatically. “I mean, what does she even see in her!”

“Potter’s dating Ginny? I thought they broke up end of sixth year?” Pansy inquired.

Draco sneered. “They got back together. I hate it. They way they’re always snogging in public where everyone can see. It’s disgusting.” He crossed his arms and pouted. “Stupid Potter.” Pansy closed her book and smirked at him. “What?” He snapped.

“You’re jealous!”

Draco scoffed. “Oh please. I am not jealous.”

“Could you want him more?”

“I’m am not jealous, Pansy. I am envious. Jealousy is being protective of what you already have and since I do not have a Potter I cannot be jealous of the Weaslette.” He explained irritable. Just then Harry Potter walked in with Ginny Weasley. Draco glared at them while Pansy looked at her best friend sadly.

“Okay. I’m going to go to the library to study with Luna.” She told her boyfriend.

Harry smiled brightly at her, a smile that Draco always wished would be directed at him. Harry kissed her and she left. He sat down on the couch that Pansy was on, smiling softly to himself. The three of them had gotten close ever since Pansy and Hermione started going out. Draco flipped a page in his book forcefully.

“Isn’t she just great?” Harry sighed dreamily.

“Yeah she’s a real doll.” Draco said, trying to sound bored. Harry laughed. “What?”

“Nothing. That just reminded me of a joke Ginny told me. When is a doll not a doll?”

Draco didn’t answer, but flipped another page in his book violently, almost ripping it. Pansy turned around to face Harry and put on a smile. “When?”

“When it’s a dollar.” Harry started giggling and so did Pansy. Draco gave a fake, meek laugh, without taking his eyes off of his book. “You okay, Malfoy?”

Draco looked up. “Yeah I’m fine. Just tired.” He faked a yawn and shut his book. “I think I’m just gonna go to bed. Good night.” He left the room just as Hermione walked in. She sat next to Pansy who put her arms around her girlfriend.

“Hey.” She greeted them, kissing her girlfriend. “What’s up?” Pansy kissed her back, lingering a bit longer, hoping Harry would leave. Eventually he did so they pulled apart. Hermione smiled softly. “What was that for?”

“I wanted to get Potter to leave… also because I wanted to.”

Hermione giggled and kissed her nose. “Why did you want Harry to leave?”

Pansy smiled. “Draco likes Harry.” She sang.

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