the answer to that one debate is right here

3 Kinds of INFP

All INFP’s share the same cognitive functions, however differences in behavior and motivation can be quite drastic. The best explanation for these kinds of differences is Enneagram. Enneagram is a personality theory that assesses trauma, motivation and behavior, it can be used along side MBTI as they do not cancel each other out in any way. Any MBTI type can potentially be any Enneagram type. Unlike MBTi, where the point is to develop INTO the best your type can be, the point of Enneagram is to develop OUT of your type, basically categorizing it as a self-help tool. INFP’s are often enough one of 3 types. It is absolutely possible to not be one of these types, and my description of each kind of INFP will not correspond directly with the broader scale of each enneagram type (example; I’m explaining what a type “X” INFP looks like not what a type “X” looks like) I have met or am each of these types of INFP and here is my assessment:

Type 4 INFP

Type 4′s are often called the “Individualists”, “Romantics” or “Artists”. This makes up the biggest portion of INFP’s. I’d say almost half. This is the classic INFP. The feeler, the lover, the emotional and rhapsodical idealist. The princess in her castle, the poet writing in water, the passionate artist. This type of INFP puts alot of weight on Fi and the Fi truly “wields” the Ne. This Fi is organic, true, and uncompromised by anything. Type 4 INFP’s are likely to feel the greatest depths of pain and sorrow of any of us. Type 4 INFP’s might describe emotional pain as so real it physically hurts. With that passion comes poetry, art, and beautiful written word. This type is likely to have deep moral convictions based on ethics and empathy. This type of INFP is highly dramatic, bringing to mind shakespearean theatrics. This can manifest as scathing drama, emotional appeals to the heart or just general hellfire and brimstone. Certainly the most likely type of INFP to cry and/or throw a fit when they feel overlooked or invalidated. Has the speech pattern of someone writing in their diary. This type tends to be a wallflower due to being unable to conform to social norms or put on a face for anyone. May be a person of few words due to only being able to be honest. This kind of INFP is highly individualistic, craving authenticity more than any other type of INFP. They’re likely to see trends, fashions, cliques and fame as highly detestable. The type of INFP to hate and never want to be “the cool kids”. This kind of authenticity is very attractive to those who love authenticity and originality, as these INFP’s have it in spades. Always interesting and always unique, these INFP’s can be highly cherished by friends and family and highly sought after as lovers. This subset of INFP’s might be the most romantically minded of any other subset of any other type. However, they are plagued by fears of being abandoned, and when alone, wish for someone to come and save them. Type 4 INFP′s believe that someone (or something, maybe a religion or philosophy) is going to come into their lives and make them whole, and can have trouble generally feeling whole in and of themselves. Overall, this kind of INFP’s personifies on of the most lovable subsets of human beings. Genuine, authentic, passionate, and creative. This kind of INFP is capable of the most beautiful and genuine expressions of human emotion of just about anyone. 

Type 9 INFP 

This type of INFP is also very well known but less of the population than Type 4′s. Type 9′s have been called “The Peacemaker” or “The Mediator”. This Type of INFP is very sensitive to conflict and great at seeing others perspectives. This INFP is great at giving advice and helping with others problems and generally being a caring shoulder to cry on. Often being mistaken for INFJ’s, Type 9 INFP’s still have staunch values and an openly hyperactive mind, they’re just less pushy about their views. This Type of INFP can be seen as having a very balanced function set, not weighing to heavily on any functions. They are very laid-back, non-judgemental, and sensitive to others thoughts and feelings. This type is likely to have a weak definition of self, seeing themselves in everything. They might see themselves as “a little of column A, a little of column B, quite honesty”. They might outwardly appear to not greatly enjoy or strongly feel about anything. They may struggle to say exactly who they are and what they stand for, being cautious of taking any harsh or finite stances on things. They really don’t want to offend anyone or be offended. They just don’t want a conflict to break out. This type seems to have the strongest shadow Ni of any kind of INFP, easily seeing other perspectives and views. They are still, however, separate from INFJ because they are still associative creatures rather than dissociative, relaying new information through the lens of their own understanding and experience. This kind of INFP was often neglected or silenced as a child and taught to not think of themselves as important. As a consequence of this, they are likely to see other people as having more intrinsic worth than they do. (not in a type 2 way, mind you, or in an Fe way, in a self-depreciating way) This can cause this type of INFP to think nothing they do is important, and kill any drive for them to do anything. Because of this, this INFP is kind of a loaner and maybe pretty lazy and slothful. However, these same qualities can make these type 9′s, self-sacrificing and loving friends. They are a wonderful, understanding and compassionate shoulder to cry on. They are just as happy talking about any topic with you as any other, and the most imaginative and flexible people you will ever meet. 

Type 6 INFP

Somewhat lesser known, but about as common as type 9 INFP’s, Type six INFP’s are cautious, inquisitive and loyal. Type 6′s are often called “The Loyalist” “The Detective” and “The doubter”. This kind of INFP focus’s much more on the Ne/Si axis than the other kind of INFP’s and can seem to effortlessly match even ENFP’s in outward intuition. However, this comes at a price as this type of INFP tends to use that ability to worry quite a lot. This type of INFP is highly insecure, spending a lot of time in “what if” scenarios and wondering if things will turn out okay. Due to just how much time they spend doing that, they get rather good at guessing outcomes and asking the right questions. 
This type of INFP craves security, they value unconditional love and stability above just about anything. They are plagued with doubts in their relationships, personal struggles, and careers. They can really bring down the mood and bother people with this behavior. They image countless scenarios in which things can turn out bad, and really just need guidance and a gentle push out of such thinking from friends and loved ones. Guidance, security and reassurance are paramount to a type 6 INFP, and anyone who gives them this will receive a loyal and passionate ally. This kind of INFP is also highly opinionated as they become very attached to things that mean something to them. They might go on a rant at or about people who disagree or ideologically oppose them due to their deep and inseparable attachment to their owns thoughts, preferences and philosophies. 
This is they type of INFP to seem to be really into a handful of things and talk about them non-stop. “I have all their albums” “I’ve been going here for years” “I have a blog about it” “I’ve read tons of books about it” They’re very loyal to bands, ideas, philosophies, values, ideologies, artists and people. 
Valuing stability, this kind of INFP is much more sensible and practical than the average INFP, and less likely to be emotionally turbulent. They stand in solidarity with thier self-concept and values. They rarely question thier identity or the validity of their feelings. Due to this, much more energy goes into the Ne/Si axis and allows type 6′s INFP’s to be great philosophers and thinkers, asking the right questions and stead-fastly seeking answers. All makes the type 6′s a fierce debater, playful philosopher, and loyal companion. 

Thank you all so much for reading, I hope you INFP’s out there find yourself in this. There are also many type 2, 5, 1 and 7 INFP’s out there but i wanted to focus on the common ones here. The roughly 10% or so of INFP’s who aren’t a 4, 9, or 6 should feel special! I hope you’ve enjoyed this very much!

Onsra | Part III

(v.) – to love for the last time; a bittersweet feeling of knowing a love won’t last

Read: Part 1 | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII

Words: 7.8K

Genre: Demon au, soon-to-have: some angst, maybe fluff, smut(?)


“Won’t you be mine instead?”

Keep reading

A Return to Love: The Rebirth of BatCat.

It all started off in the most inauspicious way:

This final cell at the end of Batman # 9 marked the introduction of Catwoman to Rebirth. To say it was controversial would be the understatement of the year. However, little did we all know that this was the beginning of something major for the Bat and Cat relationship.

From the get go, it was clear that this version of BatCat was not the one we saw in New 52. There was something more, deeper, like there was prior to Final Crisis:

No matter what she said, Batman refused to believe she murdered all those people. He would do whatever it took to prove Catwoman was innocent. Whenever they spoke, it was clear that the feelings for each other were still there.

Keep reading

Super Secret Deck Tech #3

I’m really gonna get ahead of the game on this one. Calling it now: this is gonna be huge.

Now, it’s a widely known fact that Kazuul, Tyrant of the Cliffs is the best mono-red commander. Possibly the best commander of all, but that’s still up for debate.

However, it is a bit of a challenge to fully take advantage of his Ogre-producing ability. I mean, let’s be real here, who would even dare attack into the 5/4 powerhouse that is Kazuul? Only fools, that’s who.

Thankfully, Wizards has finally released an answer to our problem. As seen in today’s spoilers:

Yup, you read that right. Now, each opponent must attack you each combat! And, if they don’t pay the toll of three (3) (!) generic mana, you’ll get an ogre from each of them. WWWWWHHHHOOOOOAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

I expect this card to be worth at least $20. Maybe more. Probably around $100 for a foil. This is a seriously OP synergy right here, and I’m legitimately surprised that Wizards is letting it through. This is gonna be the competitive edh deck to beat in the coming months.

Remember folks, you heard it here first!

(But seriously, this deck looks just dumb enough to be really bad. I might have to make it.)

anonymous asked:

I need to "talk" to someone who has had a SPNCon experience. I'm going to my first Con within the next year, and I'm already panicking about photo ops. I am plus sized and nowhere near pretty. I have convinced myself and truly believe that anyone I get photo ops with will smile and pretend like they're happy, when in reality they don't want to be anywhere near the far girl. I've already practically talked myself out of getting any photo ops and I still have months before my Con.

Ok so I’ve been sitting on this kind of all day since I read it debating how to answer it. I’m plus sized and nowhere near pretty so you’re knocking on the right door. I’ve been to 7 cons now and I’ve had tons of ops now, granted, I’ve lost quite a bit of weight between the first and the 7th and but I am NOWHERE near skinny or pretty. I got some pretty gross Tumblr hate about it when I posted an op on here at one point and that’s why I don’t post pics here anymore. I’ve had some pretty shitty ops that I’ve never posted anywhere, but I think that’s true for everyone regardless of how they feel about themselves. Sometimes you just take a shitty picture.

With that said, not once has anyone in the cast ever made me feel like they didn’t want to be near me, quite the opposite actually. The only place I’ve ever felt included or pretty or what have you is at pretty much every con I’ve ever been to. The cast are truly genuine, appreciative, inclusive, non judgmental people. 

My advice would be to get the ops that you want. Every single damn one. Because the absolute worst thing would be to regret it later and no get the opportunity again. If you hate them you can tuck them away somewhere and never look at them again but you just might really love them. You won’t know unless you do it though. 

Spider-Girl (Mini Series 3/3)

Summary: In an alternate universe where Spider-Man doesn’t exist, Spider-Girl does. Instead of Peter Parker being bitten by a radioactive spider, it was the reader. And now she becomes the web slinging hero, destined to save New York…

Warning: mentions of blood and swearing

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Type: Final part of my mini series

Requested: @captain-sherlockomg

Part One Here / Part Two Here


Keep reading

anonymous asked:

You claimed that glassfed beef produces more gas than grain. Can you explain why? And does that mean that letting cattle graze on a natural grassland or pampas unsuitable for crops is bad?

What a good question! Again, you could write a whole paper on this, or a thesis, but let me try to hit the major points. I’m  going to have to break up the answer into two bits here:

1) Grass-fed animals, on an individual animal level, produce more methane per day than grain-fed ones. But why is that?

Let’s start with a view of what’s going on inside the animal: 

  • Herbivores like cattle and sheep have a very complex ecosystem of microbes in their gut, particularly in the part of the stomach called the rumen. 
  • The rumen is like a giant fermentation vat - it’s anaerobic (no oxygen), warm, and has a pH ranging from neutral-ish to slightly acidic. 
  • Feed goes in, gets regurgitated and chewed to break it down into smaller pieces, and then the rumen microbes break it down.  
  • While some nutrients exit the rumen into the acid part of the stomach without microbes getting a hold of them, the majority of nutrients in feed go to keep the microbes healthy and happy. 
  • The byproducts of the microbes’ actions on these feeds help feed the animal

The basic equation is this: 

Feed + microbes -> VFAs + CO2 + methane +microbial protein

  • VFAs, volatile fatty acids, are short-chain fatty acids that get absorbed by the gut and used for energy - in fact, these account for >70% of a cow or sheep’s energy!  
  • Rumen microbes use nitrogen in feed to grow and make more microbes, and when they get washed out of the rumen into the acid stomach, become a major source of protein to the animal, especially on low-protein diets. 
  • Waste products like carbon dioxide and methane get burped out and become greenhouse gases.

Methane is what the rumen does with excess hydrogen. 

  • There’s been research that shows that the level of hydrogen in the rumen affects the rate of certain chemical reactions, especially ones needed for microbial function, and too much hydrogen can make it harder for some microbes to function.  
  • So methane production by specific methanogenic microbes reduces hydrogen in the rumen, allowing microbes to go on their merry way. 

What you feed cows alters how much hydrogen microbes produce as a byproduct of fermenting feed.  

  • The major VFAs, acetate, propionate, and butyrate, are always going to be produced, but the ratios differ depending on diet. 
  • When acetate or butyrate is produced, so is hydrogen, and hydrogen levels rise in the rumen.  
  • When propionate is produced, the reaction uses up hydrogen, and hydrogen in the rumen decreases.
  • Pasture-based diets contain lots of cellulose, which produces mostly acetate when fermented.  
  • This is good, because cellulose is one of the things that humans definitely can’t digest, so cows are turning human inedible food into tasty meat and milk
  •  But it also means that there’s more hydrogen in the rumen because of the higher acetate levels.  
  • Mostly-grain diets, which have more starch, favor propionate, so less hydrogen and therefore less methane gets produced by the animal itself

There are other more complex effects involving different microbial groups, plant compounds, and pH effects, but let’s stick with this for now. 

There’s also the factor that methane production is driven by how much feed enters the rumen, which is driven by how much feed the animal needs to meet its energy requirements.  Forages usually have lower energy per pound of feed and are less digestible, so an animal needs to eat more. This, combined with acetate being the major VFA, means that on a per day basis, a grass-fed animal will in general produce more methane than a grain-fed one. 

However, the nice thing about grass-fed beef is that the inputs to the system are lower.  On native pasture, the only inputs are often rain and manure.  On managed pasture, there may be irrigation, seeding, fertilizer, etc.  

For grain-based diets, you have to add on the energy (and greenhouse gases) from producing the feed, processing the feed, and transporting the feed, versus the greenhouse gases from managing pasture.  But grain-fed cattle eat a lot of byproducts from other industries that would otherwise go to waste (beet pulp, distiller’s grains, barley hulls) so you need to consider that. Emissions from feed can make up a good chunk of the overall emissions associated with animal production, so the answer gets even more complex fast.  

This specific kind of analysis, of assigning greenhouse gas emissions and summing them up for a product, is part of a technique called Life Cycle Assesment - that is, looking at the life cycle of a product to determine the inputs and outputs and the emissions associated with them.  I’m doing one right now on sheep production in California and it’s utterly fascinating, but it shows that in these situations, there often isn’t an easy answer, and it depends a lot on where you set the boundaries and what you define as an impact. The debate is ongoing, and there really isn’t one clear-cut answer right now. 

So, moving on to part 2 of your question:

Is it bad to let cattle graze land unsuitable for crops because the animals themselves produce more methane than the same cow on a grain-based diet? DEFINITELY NOT.  

Cattle grazing on rangelands is definitely sustainable if managed right.

 I discussed this on my previous post here but grasslands need large herbivores to survive, and given how much land is grassland, not producing livestock on grasslands wastes a lot of land that could feed people. Removing herbivores also changes ecosystem balance for many other species that rely on herbivores to clear out excess brush, provide manure, or alter habitats.

If we don’t graze these native rangelands with something, then we risk habitat degradation and impacts on the other species that live there.  Large herbivores are an important part of the grasslands’ circle of life, and help promote ecosystem health if managed sustainably.  Grass-fed systems are also important for using land responsibly to feed everyone. 

Methane is just one part of the big picture. We need to look at ecosystem health, and the methane and other GHGs needed to produce what we’d feed these cattle if we didn’t feed them pasture.

So to answer your question, Both grain-fed and pasture-based systems have their place in modern agriculture, and neither is strictly better than the other.  And the fact is: all systems have the potential to be sustainable!

Thanks for staying with me this long. Here, have some cute Herefords as a treat (one of my favorite beef breeds). They have such sweet faces. Image credit: Irish Hereford Breed Society

Don’t Let Me Down (Yooran)

because I was listening to this and decided to hop on the yooran angst train

On AO3

No new messages.

Saeran tossed his phone onto his bed and pushed both hands into his bright hair. He stared up at the ceiling and took a deep breath trying to calm the jittery feeling that was growing in his chest. Glancing at the phone, he grabbed it up and checked his texts again. Maybe he’d forgotten to hit send.

No such luck. The message had been sent but hadn’t been read yet.

He threw the phone back onto the bed (with a little more force than before). That was fine. It was fine. Not a big deal, right? Yoosung was still a student, after all. He had classes and tests and needed to study. Even outside of the RFA, he was busy. Saeran couldn’t reasonably expect him to respond to every text, right?


He glanced over to his phone again but squeezed his eyes shut to keep himself from reaching over and snatching it up.

‘This is ridiculous,’ Saeran thought. Sure, they’d had a fight, but Yoosung wouldn’t leave him over one stupid fight, right? Only…it hadn’t been a fight. Not really. 

He had too much energy. Everything under his skin was vibrating. It was going to come out. He was going to explode.

‘Just breathe,’ he reminded himself. Saeran sucked in breath after breath like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. 

Everything was still too close. Why did his clothes have to rub against his skin like that? It just made the vibrating worse.

“Saeran,” Yoosung spoke to him, voice calm and even. “Everything’s okay. You’re okay. You can handle this.”

“I know,” Saeran snapped. How often did this happen? Of course he knew that everything was okay, but that still didn’t make it better. It was only more frustrating! Why did this happen when everything was fine? Why did he have to be like this?

“Try to focus on your breathing,” Yoosung tried talking to him again, but it only set Saeran further on edge.

“I know!” He snapped again. Rounding on Yoosung, he shouted, “Why are you always like this? How are you so calm all the damn time? You have no idea what I’m going through! What the hell do you think you can do to help?”

Yoosung was quiet for a few seconds before he said, “You’re right, I don’t know how you feel right now. Maybe if you told me I could help?”

His breaths were coming faster now, each one burning in his chest. Saeran wasn’t even thinking about his words and continued to shout, “What is wrong with you? Why are you so nice? Are you stupid? Do you like it? Why do you stay?” 

Turning away, he didn’t even look at Yoosung’s reaction. Everything was falling apart. He was falling apart. Lifting his hands, Saeran gripped his head. He had to hold himself together any way he could. Frustrated tears burned his eyes. He didn’t want Yoosung to see this. Not this ugly side of him. Why wouldn’t he just leave?

“Saeran,” Yoosung’s voice was gentle and it pulled at the tight knot in Saeran’s chest. But when a hand touched his arm, everything he was trying to keep together unraveled.

Lashing out, physically shoving Yoosung away from him, Saeran screamed, “Go away!”

Breathing still harsh, eyes wide and frantic, Saeran caught Yoosung’s reaction this time. That moment was what brought him back to his senses, focus narrowing down to only the hurt look on Yoosung’s face. All the excess energy suddenly flooded out of him, leaving him cold and exhausted.

The shock on Yoosung’s face only lasted for a second before he was smiling again, forced as it was for his sake, and saying, “Sorry, I guess you just need some time to yourself. I’ll head home for today. Feel better, Saeran! Take care of yourself, okay?”

Saeran wanted to say something, wanted to stop him from leaving, but he could barely stand, barely breathe. When Yoosung was gone, the door shut behind him, Saeran finally collapsed in on himself to cry and scream until he was spent and hoarse lying on the floor.

Saeran thought back to that awful moment after he pushed Yoosung away. The look that had been on his face had haunted his memory for three quiet, lonely days. But what hurt the worst was remembering how quickly Yoosung had tried to smile and brush it off. That tight smile, the redness that took over his cheeks and nose while he tried not to cry at Saeran’s rejection, how tight his laugh was when he said he’d go home for the day.

Saeran pressed a hand over his heart. His chest hurt. It was tight and suffocating and made his eyes burn. He grit his teeth, refusing to cry, refusing to give into this feeling. It was just in his head. It wasn’t real.

Yoosung had always been there for him. From all the way back when Saeyoung had first brought him home, Yoosung had slowly tried to be his friend. He didn’t talk to him like he was fragile or damaged. He always came back, even when Saeran pushed him away. He told him he would be there for him if he ever needed someone to talk to.

But maybe he had pushed too hard this time. It hadn’t just been harsh words or looks, it had been physical.

There was a voice in his head, ‘He’s never coming back.’

“Stop it,” Saeran said to no one. He knew what this was. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he put his head in his hands and took a deep breath. “He’s just busy. He needs time. He’ll come back. I said I’m sorry.”

‘Did you really though? It was a text. Pretty pathetic.’

“Shut up,” Saeran said through clenched teeth. “He promised. He knows. He knows how I am sometimes. I don’t mean it. I don’t. He promised he’d stay, that he’d be here.”

‘Yeah, but you never hit him before.’

“I didn’t–!” Taking another deep breath, Saeran clenched his hands in his hair. “I didn’t hit him. I didn’t.” Even as he said it, guilt twisted his gut and made the tears he’d been fighting back spill down his cheeks.

‘You might as well have,’ the little voice in his head told him. ‘Who would want to stay around someone like that? Who knows what you might do next time you get upset with him?’

Sniffling, Saeran croaked, “But he promised…”

Well, this was it. He’d tried so hard not to have one of his episodes in front of Yoosung. He didn’t want him to know about that part of him, the scary part that he lost control of every so often. But it was bound to happen eventually, right?

Lying on his bed, trying to get some of his energy back, Saeran kept his eyes closed. He waited, listening for the front door to open and shut, signalling Yoosung’s departure from the house and from him. But instead the door to his room opened.

Saeran opened his eyes and watched Yoosung walk towards the bed to sit on the edge and place a cool cloth across his forehead. “How are you feeling now?” He asked. “Better than earlier?”

“Why’d you stay?” Saeran asked in return. He was genuinely confused. He couldn’t understand why Yoosung would still be here after seeing what he’s like during one of his meltdowns.

Yoosung didn’t answer right away, taking a moment to think about it. “Well,” he started, “I care about you. That looked like it was hard on you and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Why?” Saeran still didn’t understand.

“I need a reason?” Yoosung laughed. He reached towards him, pulled his hand back for a second, but eventually decided to reach out and pet Saeran’s hair in a calming gesture. “I just…do,” he shrugged, cheeks a little pinker than before.

Saeran debated with himself before finally admitting, “This probably won’t be the last time it happens.” Yoosung continued to gently stroke his hair as he continued, “Things build up and all come out at once sometimes.”

“That’s okay,” Yoosung reassured him with an understanding smile. “You’ve…well, you’ve been through a lot, right? It’s okay if things get to be too much sometimes. I’ll be here to help however you need.”

Saeran had a hard time believing it, that someone would stay with him through moments like that not because they had to but because they wanted to. He wanted to ask ‘why?’ again but settled on “Really?”

Yoosung nodded. “I promise. It might be easier to share it with someone that deal with it on your own. I have other things I have to do, like school and my volunteer work, but you can always text me. I’ll come over as soon as I can.”

He was tired and could feel himself starting to doze off. “Yeah,” he agreed as his eyes slipped shut. “Okay.”

“Please,” Saeran begged, still sitting on the bed and staring down at his feet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

‘Too little too late,’ his inner voice prodded. ‘Can you really blame him?’

“No,” Saeran whispered, throat clenching around the word. Honestly, he would’ve left himself a long time ago. It was crazy to expect someone else to put up with something he even hated about himself. “But I…” He was starting to crack under the weight of his guilt and anxiety. “I need him.”

He felt horrible for saying it, for admitting that if Yoosung would come back, he’d be willing to selfishly accept his help and attention again. But it was the truth. He hadn’t realized how much he’d come to rely on Yoosung as a grounding presence in his life until this incident. 

Turning to reach behind him, he grabbed his phone again before turning back to rest his elbows on his knees and stare down at the screen. Still no new notifications.

“Please,” he begged again, willing the phone to buzz in his hands. “Please come back so I can apologize properly. You promised. I need you and you promised. I’m so sorry.”

He was crying again, grip tight on his phone, when it answered his prayers and buzzed in a few short bursts. It was so unexpected that it startled him into almost dropping the phone. When he recovered, he rubbed his sleeve across his eyes to help clear them and looked down at the screen.

1 New Message from Yoosung Kim

Sprace debate class au

Spot and Race in debate class-Enjoy:

“Thank you for that..interesting take on why computers should be replaced by typewriters, Katherine. Now, Sean Conlon and Tony Higgins, you’re up.”

Sean and Tony, known to their friends as Spot and Race, looked up from their phones at the same time with blank stares. The teacher rolled his eyes. They never payed attention in his class, which was silly because they both loved arguing and could probably get A’s if they actually tried rather than sit around and goof off or text each other from their seats.

“You’re in debate class. Remember me? Your teacher? You’re supposed to come to the front of the class and argue a point.” The teacher spoke sarcastically. It was the only way to get kids these days to listen.

The boys continued to stare blankly at the teacher-phones still visibly in their hands. The teacher let out a sigh.

“Get your asses up here. Now!” That worked to.

Spot and Race stood up silently and walked to the podiums at the front of the room. Spot looked over to the teacher and raised his eyebrows, irritated.
“Okay? Now what, genius?”

“He means,” Race interrupted before Spot for them both in trouble, “teacher, sir, what are we debating? Shit, you didn’t tell us already, did you?”

The teacher sighed and looked at his calendar where he was counting down the days until the next vacation.
“Since you boys were on your phones, how about Apple versus Android? Sean, you argue for Android. Tony, you argue Apple. Knock yourselves out. You’ve got 3-5 minutes to prove your points starting now.”

Spot and Race looked at each other then at the clocks on their phones. Spot was the first to speak. He saw Race checking the time on his phone and noticed it was Apple brand. Spot wrinkled his nose. Race looked up at Spot, confused.

“You’ve actually got an Apple iPhone? Race, I thought you were better than that.” Spot began the debate without even realizing it.

“What are you talking about?” Race asked, genuinely insulted. “Apple is the greatest. Everything’s got the same set up, whether you’re on your phone or your computer or an iPad or what. It’s great. It’s easy.”

Spot snorted. “It’s cheap. It’s shitty, Race. I thought you’d know better.”

“Oh yea? What makes it so shitty? What phone do you have?” Race crossed his arms and looked his friend over with disgust as if he was covered in garbage.

“I’ve got an Android.” Spot held his phone up as if for proof. “Because I’m not a fucking 12 year old girl.”

Race balled his hands into fists. That meant he was trying to keep himself from yelling.

And so went the debate class. Their argument ended up lasting until the end of class. Everyone was either too entertained by their spectacle to stop them, or they were too scared they’d get their heads ripped off if they tried. The teacher seemed more than happy to just let them argue for 15 minutes. He was almost laughing at how into the argument these two got.

15 minutes later the bell rang to tell the students to pack up their things. Spot and Race heard it and left the podiums. They silently packed up their bags while glaring at each other every spare second they got. A couple people thanked them for wasting the rest of class, but they didn’t even know who it was. They didn’t really talk to anyone in this class except each other. Now they weren’t even doing that.

The bell rang again and Spot and Race glowered at each other as they pushed passed everyone into the hallway. They made it outside without seriously injuring anyone and met up with their friend and carpool, Jack. Of course, they also carpooled about half the student body, so there were 15 other guys standing around the van as well.

“Woah. What the hell’s wrong with you two?” Jack asked as the two boys walked over, still glaring childishly at each other.

“Well, Jack” Spot began, “Why don’t you tell this fucking idiot that Apple was created so that the new generation of children could learn how to melt their underdeveloped brains easily with no mental stimulation whatsoever and therefore Android is a far better buy. Not to mention you don’t look like a fucking dick carrying one around.”

“You shithead!” Race yelled back. “The iPhone is set up easier! I’ll admit that! But you don’t have to act like you’re smarter than me just because you know how to use an Android and I don’t! I’m not a fucking idiot, Spot! And you’re definitely no genius if your last report card is anything to go by. Who was it that helped you pass your English class last semester? Oh yeah, me!”

Jack and the other boys stood their staring silently as Spot and Race yelled at each other. They were nose to nose. Had the situation been less heated, Jack would’ve undoubtedly made a gay joke. In this case though, he really didn’t want any bloodshed. At least, not until they got home and weren’t his business anymore.
“Woah! Okay, guys! Let’s keep it civil until you get home. Just get in the car and don’t kill each other. Let’s go.”

Spot and Race didn’t talk until they got back to their house. They didn’t notice the glances exchanged by their friends as they both sat their glowering ahead. The second Spot and Race were out of the car, Blink leaned out the window and shouted, “Call me once you resolve all that sexual tension! I want details!” Then Jack drove away, and Spot and Race could hear all the guys in the van laughing their asses off.

When Race turned towards his door he saw Spot still glaring at him. Race rolled his eyes and shoved passed Spot as he walked towards the door.

“Real mature, Race.” Spot scoffed. “But I guess, what can I expect from a guy who can’t even use a fucking Android.”

“Really, Spot? We’re still on that? Who’s the immature one who keeps bringing it up?”

“Maybe I’d stop bringing it up if you weren’t acting like such a shit.”

Race didn’t bother to reply. The boys just walked towards the door and went inside. Race immediately went to the kitchen to get a snack. He met up with Spot a couple minutes later in his bedroom where Spot had already made himself comfortable on Race’s bed. Race glared.
“You suck.”

Spot just grinned sardonically.

“Look, I’m done arguing with you. Apple is better. Can we just agree to disagree?”

Spot snorted. “Fuck no. I’m not done with you, Higgins.” Spot walked over to where Race was standing near his desk. “We’re gonna settle this once and for all.”
Spot was nose to nose with Race again, but this time it felt a little different.

Race felt warmth rise in his stomach. He could feel his cheeks heat up, but he didn’t back down.
“How are we gonna do that, Conlon?” His voice was quiet, not a whisper, but quiet.

Spot just grinned. His eyes were bright and mischievous, like he knew something Race didn’t. “I’ve got an idea.” His eyes glanced down to Race’s lips for a millisecond.

In that millisecond, Race knew what Spot was thinking, but he didn’t have time to protest-or not protest-because Spot was kissing him.

Spot was holding Race tightly by his arms, then he snaked his arms behind Race’s back so he could press their bodies together.
Race was already gone. He couldn’t even remember what they’d been arguing about. He couldn’t think at all, not with Spot’s mouth on his. Race was so gone that he almost forgot to kiss back.
When he did, Spot knew that Race wanted this. He pushed Race down into his desk chair and straddled him.
Race’s eyes had gone wide, but they closed once Spot’s mouth was on his again. Then Spot moved down to kiss and bite and suck at Race’s neck and shoulder and jawline.

When Spot started to move to the other side, he paused in the middle to look at Race. Race’s eyes were closed and his mouth was open. He was completely gone and breathing heavily.

Race opened his eyes slightly and said in a breathy voice, “what’s the hold up?”

Spot smirked. It was the look he got when he knew he’d won.

Race put the pieces together and groaned. “You ass.” Spot moved his hands under Race’s shirt. “You really suck.” Race exhaled the words under his breath. He had two options now. Let Spot have his way and win so he would keep touching Race like he was worth more than gold. Or, Race could shove Spot off of him and push him into the wall and take control-winning himself.
It was difficult to think when Spot was running his hands up Race’s chest.

Spot seemed to know exactly what was going through Race’s head, because he moved his head down to Race’s neck again and began to suck and lick and kiss. He moved one of his hands down Race’s torso and provided pressure where it was needed, leaving the other hand to continue exploring Race’s chest.
As Race let out a breathy moan, Spot moved his mouth to Race’s ear and whispered, “So, what’ll it be, Higgins?”

It sent shivers down Race’s spine. Spot’s lips hovered over the shell of Race’s ear as he spoke.
Race opened his eyes and Spot leaned back so he could look at Race-his hands not leaving their areas. Race smiled a little and closed his eyes again. Spot always seemed to have his way, and it was just a phone, right? What’s the use of arguing about something so material anyway? Race reluctantly breathed out the words, “You win, Conlon.”

Spot smirked and left another long, practically sinful kiss to Race’s lips then slid off of Race’s lap and onto the floor in front of him.

Race grinned and decided he’d made the right choice. Spot may have won the argument, but-considering the circumstances-who was the real winner here? Race didn’t get a chance to answer his own question because Spot had started undoing his belt with one hand as the other ran up and down Race’s thigh, Race just lay back and stopped thinking altogether.

Giving up | A Liam Dunbar imagine

External image

Y/n P.O.V

You looked down, suddenly taking an interest on your shoes. The tears brimmed at the edge of your eyes, wanting to escape but you didn’t let them. Sighing deeply, there was a knock on your door.

“Y/n, Stiles will be here any min-” Scott, your older brother started as he opened the door then immediately stopped. “Y/n what’s wrong?”

You shrugged before taking a seat on your bed, Scott closely followed. He wrapped his arms around your shoulder and squeezed it gently. “I don’t know any more Scott. I don’t know what i did to make Liam avoid me like I’m the bloody plague, for God’s sake. He won’t even glance at me whenever i walk past him at school and I thought i was supposed to be his girlfriend. I’m confused Scott.” You explained, letting out an aggravated sigh.

Your older brother gave a weak smile, “Y/n, Maybe you should try talking to him today and tell him how you feel. Maybe it will sort things out. I’m not exactly an expert at relationships but I see the way he looks at you, It was the way i looked at Allison.” He reassured before hugging me.

You could tell he was upset by the mentioned of Allison. He had a distant look in his eyes and his forehead creased. There was a sudden honk outside which made him escape his trance. “Come on Y/n, don’t want to keep Stiles waiting.”

It was finally lunch making you cheer lightly to yourself. Your eyes darted around to see that familiar figure until you saw him. Your heartbeat began to rise and you were sure he could hear it as he looked up and met yours.

Finally for the first time in a week he held eye contact for more than one second. As if you was the stimulus of a reflex he quickly turned around walking the other way.

“Liam wait!”

You called after him. Then you took off on a run, as you caught up to him you grabbed his arm making him swiftly turn towards you. His shocked face, stared at you like a deer in the headlights. “Look Y/n, I need t-“

"No Liam. I want to know why you’re avoiding me. Don’t say you’re not because you’re not answering my calls or texts and won’t even talk to me. Every time you see me walk towards you, you turn the other way and you won’t even save me a glance Liam. And i don’t know if we argued or something but whatever I did that is making you avoid me like the plague, I’m sorry. Just please tell me what I did, I promise I’ll make i better. If that’s not what you want, I’ll understand. Just don’t leave me hanging and tell me straight if you don’t want to be with me anymore. I’m sick and tired of waiting and not knowing what I did wrong.” You begged with pleading eyes.

He stood still, his blue orbs searched mine blankly as you panicked. As silence passed the both of you, you sighed with disappointment that he didn’t deny your assumptions.

You had no choice but to walk away, if you didn’t you would’ve broken down right in front of him and you didn’t want that.


Next Day…

You debated whether or not to go to Scott’s game, one reason being Liam was playing too. Sitting in Violets car, in the school parking lot gave you no choice but to go. Violet was not going to take a no for an answer.

"Come on Y/n, let’s sit here.” Violet suggests, and you simply nodded. There were sudden cheers as the Beacon hills players ran into the field. Your gaze darted around and easily found Liam’s jersey.

Even though, you had no clue what the relationship status between you and he was but you wanted him to be safe, due to the fact he was newly bitten. You remembered when Scott was bitten a few years ago, he scared the bloody shit out of you.

You missed Liam. You missed everything about him, his laugh, and his smile. You never understood what you did to make him ignore you like you never existed. You needed answers.

Feeling a tear prickle your eyes, you quickly closed it. “I’m sorry.” You whispered quietly to yourself, hoping Violet never heard. Opening your eyes, the familiar baby blue ones instantly met yours. Everything slowed down as if it was you two. Your breathing began to quicken as your heart clenched.

Without noticing, you began to retreat the benches and towards the car park. You couldn’t handle it anymore and you were hurting.

Y/n!” You quickly turned around at the sound of the familiar voice. Your eyebrows furrowed as you saw Liam jogging towards you.

“Liam what are you doing? You can’t just leave the game? Coach will kill you.” You said, desperately trying to hide the evidence that you were crying.

Liam seemed to notice making his face soften. “Y/n, I saw you leave. Aren’t you going to finished the game?”

You shrugged, “Why are you speaking to me all of a sudden? You’ve been ignoring me for the past week and now you’re speaking to me like nothing’s happened? If you don’t want to me with me, then grow the hell up and tell me or else I have no choice but to give up.”

“To give up on us.”




This is not the Birthday imagine but this imagine has been in my mind for quite a while and the feels are real.

The Birthday imagine will be up tomorrow with a very sad an fluffy Thomas sangster imagine.

Hopefully you liked it and requests are open! Please do send requests, i honestly don’t mind!

Not my gif.

Suga; Tease (M)

❝ Aite, this blog is the best thing that’s ever happened—too much inspiration going on and this is based on this post but I tweaked it a bit! (go check this blog out; because you’ll end up like me in a pool of emotions)
►642 words | mini scenario, rated for suggestive content
© (photo credit)

Seven down, three more to go, you’re switching books just to get more references in making your point more solid and it doesn’t help that there are more vibrations coming from your phone as the minutes tick by. It’s not even two full hours that you’re here and it’s like your phone is having an unstoppable seizure—which is not good. You groan and tell yourself no, just because it’s Yoongi, doesn’t mean you have to reply and usually, it doesn’t end up well because now you’re neglecting everything else just to check the messages he’s sent and it’s like he has way too much time up his sleeves.

‘Babe’ [2.31p.m.]

‘Gorgeous’ [2.31p.m.]

‘Are you just going to keep ignoring me?’ [2.33p.m.]

‘I know you’re seeing this—come home now’ [2.34p.m.]

‘Baby. Come. Home.’ [2.36p.m.]

And the next photo he has the courtesy in adding a self-captured image of himself, lazing in bed and the bed sheets look pretty familiar to your eyes as he’s resting on a pillow, one hand in his hair while the other is holding up to the right angle where the light hits his skin perfectly. You groan and tempt to reply but you know he catches the ‘seen’ text and he’s tempting you further and this should not happen in a library!

‘My face is cold, I need you to sit on it.’ [2.38p.m.]

Rolling your eyes and debating if you are going to be sexting him here or not, you decide to go with the other option and opt him with an answer you know he’ll be groaning at.

‘Jimin’s contact number is in your phone; call him instead.’

The phone in your hand is about to be put aside forever until you’re done but the buzzing halts you from doing so.

‘I don’t want to fuck JImin, I want to fuck you.’ [2.41p.m.]

Amused, you reply something among the lines that you bet Jimin begs to differ.

Then he’s pushing all the right buttons by saying how your lips moaning my name is such a pretty sight—and you taste fucking good.

He’s grinning so hard, his cheeks might hurt but he bursts out laughing when you’ve seen his message but you’re not replying him at all. He contemplates and thinks if he should keep pestering you but then, yeah, he should and he’s sending a message that should be considered as lethal and illegal.

You regret it the moment his face appears on your screen, the caption you know you want to hovering over his tongue as he juts it past his lips just enough to have you squirming on your seat and you’re calling him rude and telling him to stop.

‘I’ll stop if you come home now.’ [2.46p.m.]

You’re halfway in, ready to give into his ways but you’re seeing how far he’s about to seal the deal.

‘What are we going to do when I get home? Is this all for show, Min Yoongi?’ [2.48p.m.]

Few minutes go by and you’re half disappointed that maybe, he’s just joking around in a way where he knows it’s messing with your mind. You’re about to dive into the heavy work gathered on your shoulders but the next text has you going fuck this, I can do this when I get home, on his laptop and you’re dashing out of the library, hopping into the car and maybe speeding all the way home with the image of him sprawled out in bed, at your mercy.

‘Was it all for talk the last time you came on my face?’ [2.53p.m.—seen]

The Silver Lining: Part One

Summar: The reader is not a fan of the show, but gets dragged to a convention and catches Jensen’s eye.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader
Word Count: 1855
Warnings: Just a bit of language. 

As I mentioned in the teaser, this series is based on a request from @dancingalone21; hopefully this five-part mini-series will do her request justice! 


Your name: submit What is this?

Your last name: submit What is this?

Keep reading

Fight For Family...Part 4

(Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Epilogue)

Just shy of two hours later, you found yourself at David’s after not only grocery shopping for the rhubarb pie recipe but also dropping off your newly-acquired fresh foods at your apartment.

You couldn’t help but notice the light worry in David’s eyes the entire time you were walking through the complex.

Stepping foot into his house was like stepping back home.  The routine you had fallen into suddenly came flooding back as David took your coat and you slung your purse over the side of his couch.

“I’ll go get the groceries real quick,” David says as you hear the door open behind you.

Your eyes were slowly canvassing the room, taking it all in in case this meeting went drastically wrong.

“Make yourself at home,” he says lowly as you slowly turn your body towards him.

The sincerity in his eyes caused you to hold your breath, struggling not to ruin the moment as his eyes hold yours with a fiery passion.

Letting out your breath as your eyes widen, you feel your stomach jump lightly as your eyes whip down to your stomach.

You watched your stomach wave in movement as your jaw unhinges.

“Hey there,” you breathe as you smile, your hands encompassing your little bulge as David looks on in wonder.

“Hey there, little one,” you whisper as a smile lightly graces your cheeks.

David didn’t know what to do…what was appropriate for a scenario like this.

But your voice ripped him from his debating thoughts as you answered his question for him.

“Come here,” you beckon as you hold out your hand for him.

As he leaves the open front door and slowly walks towards you, you wraps your fingers around his wrist as you press his rough, warm hand lightly against your stomach, right where your little girl was flailing about.

Where David’s little girl was flailing about.

Watching his face as his hand rolls on top of the movements, his eyes widen in wonder as study his face.

The elated joy of feeling his child move in the womb.

The tears of happiness rimming his reddening eyes as he slowly sinks to his knees.

The adoring way he parted his lips as he splayed both of his hands along your stomach.

And the reverent way he closed his eyes as he planted his lips firmly on your belly button, her little feet kicking against the warmth of his lips I’m sure even she could feel as he smiles and begins murmuring into your stomach.

“I’m right here, piccola ragazza.  Daddy’s right here.”

The sentiment caused burning tears to flood your eyes and stream down your face as your chest heaves with sobs you had refused to cry for weeks.

And the sound caused David’s eyes to rip open and stare heavily up into yours.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he murmurs lowly, his body staying planted on his knees as his eyes dance in between yours.  “Whatever it takes to be in her life…in both of your lives.”

Your heart fluttered strongly with his words, threatening to burst out from behind your sternum as you watch him slowly raise up onto his feet.

“I won’t leave you like this,” he says as his hand comes up to cup your cheek.  “ I won’t let you do this alone.”

And the tears running down your cheeks found their way over his fingers as your salty regrets and wet hopes soak his fingers as his thumb lightly brushes over your reddening cheek.

“What can I do?” he asks as his other hand flies up to your cheek as you sniffle hard and flutter your eyes closed.

You were carrying David’s little girl.

“Please tell me,” he whispers as he leans his forehead lightly down onto yours.

And just as you went to part your lips, breathing in his air as your trembling hands meander over his as you weave your fingers tightly together with his, your stomach lets out a massive growl as the two of you begin to chuckle breathlessly, feeling each other’s breaths pulsate off of each other’s lips.

“You can make that damn rhubarb pie,” you giggle as David opens his eyes to look at you.

His lips were so dangerously close to yours…

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmurs as a light smile graces his cheeks.

anonymous asked:

Sterek prompt: Derek's the captain of the lacrosse team and goes over to Stiles' after a game and Stiles has an asthma attack, so Derek stays up with Stiles in the ER, worrying about him.

why does Stiles have an asthma attack.


but shut UP they don’t like each other jESus. Derek is so BOSSY and annoying and makes Stiles run track with him before school, and Stiles is so LOUD with his stories that threaten to make Derek laugh, ugh, and Stiles’ stupid tight jeans and Derek’s stupid PLAIN t-shirts that make Stiles salivate, and UGH the way Stiles eats is oBSCENE and the way Derek almost smirks to himself when he gets an answer right in class or WORSE when he’s goading Stiles into debate and one minute they’re on the national economy and then Stiles is gibing Derek into explaining exactly HOW they’d afford a home in the suburbs if Derek’s going to play lacrosse professionally, is he expecting STILES to be the breadwinner here? and Finstock’s pulling his hair out in the background and Scott’s confused because WHEN DID DEREK AND STILES DECIDE THEY WERE GONNA LIVE TOGETHER? AND— OH. ok they’re glaring again, and Stiles looks smug and Derek looks grossly like… ugh, turned on, he doesn’t wanna know, he’d rather admire his own notes which are neat and beautiful and he can trade with Allison later. so there’s shoving and winding each other up and TOO MUCH SEXUAL TENSION FOR A CLASSROOM SITUATION, but they’re not in to each other GOD.

Keep reading

raspbarry-allen-deactivated2017  asked:

Here's a crack ship: Imagine Barry Allen x Personified!Speed Force. I'd imagine the speed force is all mysterious and dark type. (Write something for it if you want.)

Hahaha, that is a strange one! But also, it just honestly makes me think about the speed force taking on Oliver’s form. (I’m sorry it’s not exactly what you asked for but it’s really all I could think about).

Just imagine it, though. Let me take you on a short headcanon-turned-drabble.

It’s been taking on the form of his loved ones the entire time, so at this point, Barry’s wondering who the hell he’s going to be tortured with seeing next. Imagine his surprise when he finds himself in Star City, and it’s Oliver Queen standing on a rooftop – no, their rooftop -  sans Green Arrow gear. Just Oliver.

He blinks twice – because he’s sure he must be hallucinating. Up to this point, it’s taken on his parents, Joe, Iris… essentially, his family. So how is Oliver here? What does Oliver have to do with all this?

Rather than voice his opinions, though, all he can do is stare, mouth gaping a little as he approaches the figure slowly, hesitantly.

“Don’t look so surprised, Barry,” the figure chuckles, stepping closer to Barry.

Barry stalls in his tracks, brows furrowing. “I don’t understand.”

With a shake of his head and an amused huff, the vigilante lookalike steps around him to circle him entirely, never taking his eyes off of Barry. It shouldn’t make Barry feel as uneasy as it does, but he can’t help but feel like prey.

“Why him?” he asks, his voice sounding a little less resolved than what he’d been hoping for. He has a feeling it’s in large part due to the fact that it feels like his throat is about to close over. “Why Oliver? I don’t- I-“

Before he knows it, Oliver’s right in front of him, face softened a little, and Barry’s heart skips a beat as his had reaches out to cup his jaw. “You know why,” he whispers.

Before he knows it, Oliver- no, the speed force, is pulling back, and Barry’s eyes widen.

And that’s how Barry realises that he’s in love with Oliver Queen.


For ease of access please find below links to all my previous stories;
Sam and Dean Series            Requests and Stand Alones    
Lil Winchester             Heart Song
A Love She Never Knew          Dear Diary
High School Sweethearts       Reader Title Challenge
Enjoy my lovelies.
                                                Stand Alone


Authors Note: So this one wasn’t going to be posted for a while, and it was the one I asked about the other day about if you wanted a happy or sad ending. No one answered, SO I debated through out it. lol. As you can probably tell along the way. I’m posting it as a bonus story and for @deansgurlimagines because well tonight you just made my day right when I needed it. xxx


  Y/N shut the door and was walking through the garage and into the main area of the bunker when the lights went, an alarm starting blaring and the red emergency beacons flashed.

  ‘Sammy?’ she called.

  It had been a month since she was last here. She left needing to come to terms with Dean’s death. Trying to grieve and join Sam on the mission he was one, hell bent on finding Dean’s body just got too much for her.  She had lost the love of her life, and was struggling with losing her best friend too.



  She spun coming face to face with Dean. Tears sprung instantly to her eyes.

  ‘How? When? Why?’ she sobbed.
  ‘I don’t know. One minute I was gone, the next I’m back. I think Sam did something, he’s lost his mind. Now he’s trying to kill me.’

  ‘What?’ she panicked. ‘Oh God. Is that why the bunkers in lock down?’

  ‘Yeah. God, Baby I missed you so much,’ Dean smiled.

  He pulled her close and kissed her. Watching her face carefully, she was hesitant and unsure, that much was obvious. But he knew she trusted him, that she would listen. She always did.

  ‘We need to move, find him before he finds us,’ Dean prompted, tugging her hand.

  Y/N nodded and followed him. The moved across the concrete floors, Dean using one hand to push her against the all while he checked around the corner. Sam would trade himself for her. Dean didn’t doubt it. Her arrival was just pure luck.

  ‘Sammy?’ Dean called. ‘Sammy, come play. The third wheels here.’

  ‘Third wheel?’ Y/N frowned.

  ‘Well Sweetheart, you never did really fit in, now did you?’

  Y/N’s head shot up and she looked at him surprised, stepping away from the wall, preparing to move back. Something wasn’t right.

  ‘Aw, come on baby. It’s the truth and you know it,’ Dean lent down and kissed her hard, before he shoved her roughly against the half tiled wall. He heard the crack as her head made contact. Before kissing her again.
  She tried pushing him away but Dean just pushed up harder against her, locking her in place.

  ‘Come on Sweetheart, no one likes a tease.’

  Y/N watched as his eyes flickered black, gasping she hit him with everything she had and took off running. For Y/N situation’s like this sucked. She wasn’t a hunter, she was a girl the boys had rescued and made friends with. Her and Dean becoming more than friends. A lot more.

  Y/N kept running, turning a corner she ran into something and nearly screamed. Only stopping when a hand clamped over her mouth.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Visiting, checking on you. Why didn’t you tell me?’ she sobbed.
  ‘I’ll explain later, I promise,’ Sam told her.

  ‘How do I know you’re you and not another demon?’

  Sam pulled the demon blade from his belt and cut himself with it. Y/N nodded and the two ran off trying to figure out a way to deal with Dean.

  ‘If I can get to the computer room there was a thermal imaging program I was working on with Charlie ages ago. It was almost complete. If I can get it going I can use it to find him.’

  Sam looked at her hesitantly, the idea was great, but that would mean leaving her alone.

  ‘Y/N, I don’t know.’

  ‘We need to find him Sam.’

  Sam nodded reluctantly, and Y/N took off running.

  She had almost finished the program when the door was kicked in and Dean appeared.

  ‘Hey baby, I’m thinking it’s time for some fun.’

  Y/N froze, with Dean in the doorway there was no escape. He moved closer to her, the smug smirk on his face making her want to be sick.

  Dean’s eyes roamed over her body, the demon in him contemplating his options. She went to run but he grabbed her slamming her face into the computer table.

  ‘You always were useless Y/N. Useless at running, at fighting, at hunting. I’m not surprised that vampire almost killed you. I mean, hell chances are there wasn’t any thrill in that chase. But then with you there never is.’

  He punched her in the stomach, the face and the ribs over and over again. Telling her how pathetic she was, how weak she is, how she wasn’t worth the time, how he never loved her. She listened to his insults and taunts as she faded into blackness.

  Y/N woke in the room her and Dean shared in the bunker. She considered that maybe she had died. But she couldn’t think of a reason as why either heaven or hell would put her here.

  ‘You’re awake, that’s good,’ Sam’s voice came from the door.
  ‘Am I dead?’ she groaned.


  ‘Do me a favour?’


  ‘Kill me,’ she muttered.

  The pain through her body was excruciating.
  ‘Nope, but I will make you a tea.’

  Sam left and Dean moved into the doorway and looked at his girlfriend in the bed. He was so full of guilt. He was responsible for the pain she was in, for the bruises and cuts to her body. For the blood mattered hair. He fought back tears, she didn’t deserve it. She was the sweetest person he knew, the gentlest and yet he destroyed her.

  Deep down he knew it wasn’t him, it was the demon. And while he was grateful Sam and Cas had cured him. He wished they had of killed him. It would have been kinder on everyone.

  Y/N looked over at the door and Dean watched as fear and anger crossed her face. He watched as she shifted and tried to move further away.

  ‘I’m not him anymore. Sam and Cas, they cured me,’ Dean said quietly.

  Y/N frowned at him, not saying a word. Dean went to step into the room and watched as she moved back again. He sighed and stepped back out, he didn’t blame her.

  Sam returned and explained everything to Y/N. Her eyes never leaving Dean, every time he moved she flinched.

  Over the next two weeks Y/N healed, physically at least. She was plagued by nightmares of Dean’s fists and haunted by his words. She knew it wasn’t him but that didn’t stop them.

  Dean was suffering from the same dreams, the same replays in his mind. Each day he hated himself even more. He found himself avoiding her, sleeping in another room. He couldn’t handle being close to her in case he hurt her again.

  Dean walked into the library to find another book, when he saw Y/N struggling to reach one. He walked up behind her and automatically put his hand on her hip and grabbed it, pulling it down. He realised as he lent down to kiss her as he always did, she had stiffened under his touch. He kicked himself for getting to caught up in how it should be, in doing what comes naturally. For letting his guard down.

  ‘Thanks,’ Y/N said quietly, frozen on the spot.

  ‘Can we talk? Just for a minute?’ Dean asked.

  Y/N stood there, looking at him.

  ‘I am so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. It wasn’t me that night. You’re my world Y/N, I wouldn’t. Not by choice.’

  Dean wanted nothing more than to run a thumb across her cheek, through her hair. He ached to kiss her, to see her smile. But he couldn’t bring himself to touch her. He struggled to even talk to her.

  She went to talk but had no response to him. So she walked away.

  Sam tried to get them to talk, to watch movies together like they used to. But nothing worked. Neither of them knew if they were still dating, the relationship hadn’t exactly ended but it wasn’t there either.

  Dean watched as Y/N left again, this time for a hair appointment. She seemed to go out a lot now days, not that it surprised him. She was probably too scared to stay in the bunker with him. His heart broke every time she walked out that door, he was always worried she wouldn’t return. That he wouldn’t get a chance to fix things. He would walk past her and go to reach for her but stop himself. He lost count of the amount of times he’d gone to kiss her, or walked into their old shared room wanting to cuddle, to feel her heart beat against his body only to find it empty and the bed cold. He would watch those strands of her bangs that would fall in her face that he loved so much, the ones he loved to push back because it meant contact with her. He hated this so much. He hated himself more.

  By the fourth week Sam had finally got them to agree to a movie. Y/N sat on the floor in a bean bag. She was close enough that Dean could run his hands through her hair. He almost did so many times. By three quarters of the way through the movie he got up and walked out. He couldn’t take it anymore.

  A few days later, he came out to the viewing room early hours of the morning, unable to sleep. He found Y/N laying on the sofa watching TV.

  ‘Can’t sleep either?’ he asked.

  ‘Not lately.’

  ‘Can I join you?’

  Y/N shrugged and sat up, giving Dean room.

  ‘What are you watching?’

  ‘I have no idea, it’s more on for the distraction.’

  They watched some Japanese maze show, similar to the old Takoshi’s castle. Dean kept watching her, debating on if he should talk. Wondering how she would react if he just held her hand. If he had contact of any kind. He sat wondering if she still loved him. Because despite what happened, despite how much he hated himself, if he lost her love, if he lost her it would destroy him in every way. He’d go hand himself to Crowley on a platter. Life now was hard enough, to live it without her. Knowing it was his choices that made it happen, that would be a fate worse than death. One he wasn’t man enough to face.

  Y/N felt uncomfortable, she could feel Dean’s eyes on her. She had no idea what he was thinking or what he wanted. And she was too scared to ask, she felt stupid asking. And she was scared it would be a question and she didn’t have answers.

  ‘Here,’ she said softly, handing Dean the remote, standing up. His fingers brushed her and for the first time since it happened he noticed she didn’t flinch.

  ‘You don’t have to leave. I’m happy to watch whatever you are watching.’

  ‘It’s fine, I should try and sleep anyway.’

  ‘I miss you Y/N,’ Dean said quietly. ‘I wish I could fix it, change things back to how they were.’

  ‘So do I.’

  With that she left. Dean’s head fell back, he closed his eyes and swallowed, fighting back a tsunami of tears.

  He noticed Y/N stopped avoiding him as much. Her answers weren’t as short or as quiet. She still wasn’t smiling but it was an improvement. He watched as she came out the bedroom and headed towards the garage in skinny jeans and a loose shirt. The combination on her was hot. He watched as she grabbed her handbag and headed for the garage. She was going out again. Every day for the past few weeks. She refused to tell them where she was going.

  Dean decided to follow her, and watched as she sat down in a café and how not long after a man joined her. He felt his heart plummet. He had lost her. And as much as he hated himself he didn’t blame her. She deserved more than some guy who almost killed her. He knew he should leave, that he needed to pack up and just return to the bunker, but he couldn’t help himself. He stayed in the car watching, stalking, spying on the two of them. He watched as she laughed and smiled. His heart broke and swelled at the same time. He hadn’t seen or heard that since he went off to fight Metatron. He didn’t know if he should shake the mans hand or beat him up for making her feel so amazing that she could do it. That was his job. It should be him making her happy.

  He watched as the man stood after a while and kissed her cheek before leaving. Dean jumped out the car before he could stop himself and sat in the chair opposite Y/N, surprising her.

  ‘I don’t blame you. After what happened. You deserve to feel safe, to be happy. But I don’t want to do this without you. I can’t,’ Dean told her, tears forming in his eyes.

  ‘Now isn’t the best time,’ Y/N told him quietly. ‘Or place.’

  ‘Can we go somewhere and talk please?’

  He watched as she sighed and nodded. He waited while she got a coffee to go and he drove them to the spot out behind the bunker they would go to sometimes to watch the clouds or the stars.

  ‘How long?’


  ‘You and that guy,’ Dean commented sadly.

  ‘Since I healed up. It’s not what your thinking Dean. He’s a personal trainer and muay tai instructor. He’s been teaching me to fight.’

  Dean looked at her shocked.

  ‘There’s no one else,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m not even sure if there’s an us.’

  ‘I want there to be an us. I just don’t know how to fix things Y/N.’

  ‘The worst part in all of this, is that you didn’t do anything wrong Dean. None of this is on you. And yet you have to suffer for it. I’m so sorry.’

  Dean looked at her in disbelief. He had no idea what to say.

  ‘What I did-.’

  ‘That wasn’t you. I know that. You know that. It was your hands, your mouth, but the words and actions they weren’t you.’

  Dean felt the tears in his eyes again. What she said struck the guilt cord again. She didn’t deserve what happened.

  ‘I’m so sorry for everything, for avoiding you. I just, I keep seeing it, hearing it. I can’t stop. I’m not sleeping, among other things.’

  ‘You don’t need to apologise, Y/N. I don’t blame you, I understand. I’m so lucky that you didn’t run the moment you came too.’
  He watched as she took a drink of her coffee and rested her head back on the seat and closed her eyes. They sat quietly for a while, Dean unsure of what had or was happening.

  ‘Can you take me to get my car?’

  ‘Could we talk some more?’

  ‘I don’t think we are going to fix this right now.’

  ‘I want to. I want to know what’s happening. If we can fix it.’

  ‘I’m not sure Dean. I wish I knew, but right now I just need to go home.’

  Dean started the car and drove her back to town and followed her home. He watched as she got out her car and walked inside. His stomach dropped and his blood ran cold. He knew something was wrong. He raced after her finding her in her room packing her bags.

  ‘Stop! Y/N don’t please.’

  ‘Dean I just need some time, to sort myself out.’
  ‘Do you love me?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter whether I do or not,’ she said quietly, placing more clothes in her bag.

  Dean yanked them out and stuffed them back in the cupboard.
  ‘Dean,’ she sighed.
  ‘Do you love me?’
  ‘It’s not enough.’
  ‘How is it not enough?’

  ‘Because it’s not, I’m not,’ she cried.

  ‘You’re not what?’

  ‘Good enough.’
  Dean watched shocked as she threw the clothes back into her bags and the tears fell down her face. How could she think that? She was more than enough.
  ‘Baby, how the hell do you even think that?’

  ‘He was right, what he said,’ she sobbed. ‘I’ve tried to become something you deserve but I can’t.’ She burst into tears and sunk to the floor.

  Dean felt the wet streams running down his own face. This was worse than what he thought it was. He sat down next to her and pulled her into a hug.
  ‘You’re more than enough. More than I deserve. I don’t want anyone else, just you. I love you so much Y/N. You have no idea how wrong he was. You are amazing, in every aspect. I’m in awe of you constantly.’

  Y/N cried into Dean’s chest, and he felt his heart breaking.

  Eventually Y/N sobs subsided and her breathing changed, Dean realised that she had cried herself to sleep. He sat there with her in his arms and savoured the moment. Realisation washing over him that he could hold her, touch her, be near her and not hurt her. He kissed her head and breathed her in. God he missed her.

   Y/N woke up several hours later from what she would have to say was the best sleep she’s had in months.

  ‘Hey,’ Dean said quietly.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to.’
  Y/N stood quickly and moved out the way.
  ‘Don’t apologise, I don’t mind. God I’ve missed holding you.’
  Y/N gave him a sad smile and looked at her bags.

  ‘I can’t believe you believed him,’ Dean said quietly. ‘You are so much more than I deserve.’

  Dean moved in closer and held her hand, rubbing his thumb along her knuckles.

  ‘I love you Y/N. I’m so sorry for what I did, what he made me do.’
  He watched as the emotion in her eyes changed, to uncertainty.

  ‘I need a minute,’ she said quietly.

  Dean watched her, his eyes full of pain. Struggling to deal with what she was asking. He was so scared if he left she would too.


  Dean sighed and kissed her head. Struggling not to kiss her properly. He left her alone and went to wait in the main area, there was no way he wanted to have her walk out past him without him having the chance to stop her.

  He sat on the chair his head buried in his hands, her scent coming up from his shirt occasionally, making his heart ache all the more. She came out about an hour later, to his relief her hands were empty.

  ‘I love you,’ she said softly.

  Dean’s heart swelled and he jumped up so fast he knocked the chair over.

  ‘I. Love. You. Too. So. Much,’ Dean mumbled in between kisses.

  His tears running down her face and his. Her own mixing in with his.

  ‘Please tell me you’re staying?’

  Y/N took a moment before answering, no matter what she said the answer changed everything.

  ‘I’m sorry.’
  ‘No. Don’t say that, don’t tell me your leaving. You can’t…No,’ he cried, his voice breaking.

  Dean kissed her again, this time she didn’t return it.

  ‘I need you Y/N, I can’t go on without you. You keep the darkness away. Please.’

  ‘I need to sort myself out Dean. Figure out who I am, what I’m worth. Because right now I feel you’d have a better relationship with some bar floozy or your hand than me. I’m not in a good place. I’ll message Sam when I’m settled, but right now I think we should just keep our distance. It’s too hard.’

  ‘It’s not too hard, its simple. You love me, you stay. Don’t go acting stupid and leaving,’ Dean argued, his voice raising. He didn’t mean but he was devastated. He was losing everything. She was slipping between his fingers and there was nothing he could no and no one he could blame but himself.

  Y/N walked back into her room to grab her gear. Listening as a glass smashed against the wall.

  ‘Y/N?’ Sam said quietly from her door.

  ‘I’m sorry Sammy. I just need to sort my head out.’

  ‘You can’t do it here? We can keep our distance?’

  ‘That’s not the issue.’

  ‘He’ll keep his distance. He’ll try.’

  She gave Sam a small smile and moved out past him.

  ‘Dean wouldn’t ever say or do that stuff. He’d never dream of hurting you and he’d kill anyone who so much as thought it. Your safety is all this thinks about. He holds you on a pedestal Y/N, in his eyes he’s not worthy of you. He’s the pauper and your princess. He thinks your so far out of his league he can barely see you.’

  Y/N looked at Sam surprised.

  ‘I see it in the way he looks at you, his expression every time he realises you chose him. When he sees all these men that he puts in the same category as you and he’s the only one you have eyes for.’

  Y/N looked to the ceiling and blinked.

  ‘What you feel right now is how he feels constantly. Not a day goes by when he’s not trying to be the man you deserve.’

  Sam must have seen her expression and realised what she was thinking.

  ‘It’s nothing you did to make him feel that way,’ he said quickly. ‘It’s the life, the people dying, the guilt and self hatred that comes with the job. It’s hard to believe you deserve anything quite so amazing as the woman you love who loves you back.’

  She gave him a hug and walked out, bags in hand.

  She came face to face with Dean in the passage way. He was a wreck, worse than she had ever seen him.

  ‘Give me five minutes please, before you go?’ Dean asked quietly.

  Y/N nodded and placed her bags by the passage walk way. Dean took her hand and led her to the bedroom.

  ‘I know nothing I say will make things better, it won’t help. It won’t take the pain away. But life is better together. For both of us.’

  ‘Dean it’s not about being unhappy with life. It’s about being unhappy with me, it’s about need to move past seeing it again and again.’

  ‘How? I know what I said made you insecure but how?’

  ‘I’m not a hunter Dean. I’m slow, weak, I couldn’t kill or hurt something even a monster to save my life.’

  ‘And I love that. I love that you don’t hunt. Yes, I’d feel better if you would and could fight back if I’m not around to help. But I love that when I’m hunting your safe. I sleep better, hunt better. There’s no distractions. That said, if you ever wanted to hunt. I’d love to have you by my side. Then I get to watch you constantly not just when I’m home.’

  He saw a small smile on her lips.

‘I’m so different to everyone else.’

‘I’m not sure how that’s a bad thing.’

Dean pulled something out his duffle bag and handed it to Y/N.
 ‘What’s this?’

 ‘My reason for breathing.’

  Y/N opened it up and found photo’s inside, one or two of Sam and Dean, his parents, Bobby and the boys. But then hundreds of Y/N, and Y/N and Dean.

  ‘It’s a reminder as to how lucky I am. That I wasn’t dreaming when you agreed to date me. That I have someone worth fighting for and coming home too.’

  Y/N felt the tears in her eyes as she flicked through the pages.

  ‘I would never have taken the Mark if I knew this would happen. Losing you wasn’t worth it.’

  ‘You didn’t have a choice Dean. We both know that.’

  Dean brushed the hair from her face, his heart beating faster as she lent into his hand.

  ‘Don’t leave,’ he whispered, shifting his fingers through her hair.

  Tears welled in her eyes as she buried her head into Dean’s chest. He wrapped her up so tight he was worried he would crack her ribs.

  ‘It doesn’t mean everything’s ok,’ she said quietly.
  ‘I know. It won’t be fixed overnight. But we can’t fix it if you’re not here.’

  She pulled back and looked at him.
  ‘Then I guess I should go move my bags before someone trips on them.’
  Dean grinned at her, pulling her into him. Smothering her face and neck in kisses.

  ‘I’m more concerned about this right now,’ Dean mumbled into her mouth, moaning as she kissed him back.

HOUSE OF BLACK PRESENTS: a list of religious resources!

That is, individuals within our community who have practiced or currently practice a religion or belief of some kind. These individuals are open to discussing or answering questions about what its like to practice their faith.

NOTE: These individuals are here to help. Please treat them courteously and do take care to discuss and ask questions with respect. They are not here as a means to debate one religion over another, these people have volunteered their voices as information sources - so treat them well. If anyone sends me word of any source of ill-intended or insulting correspondence sent their way, they have all rights to request to be removed from this list. Be kind. Don’t be the person that cuts off another information source from someone else looking to learn.

Find them here.

I never really posted much about the Q&A after the live show the other night, but random bits of it keep coming back to me. Note that none of these are exact quotes (forgive me if I mangled anything) and they’re not in sequence, but it gets at the spirit of the thing:

- Someone asked about what sorts of non-human voices/sound effects they can all do. We got treated to an assortment of monster noises from Matt and Liam especially. Taliesin’s crow sounds quickly got called out (so to speak), and then he bounced it back to Liam with “He’s got one I can’t do,” whereupon Liam did a pretty spot-on Speak & Spell. (If you’ve never played with one, this is what they sound like.) Of course then he went and said, in that voice, “I will kill you in your sleep.” ;)

- Laura read the full specs of Trinket’s buff. (It’s pretty sweet. For one thing, so long as he stays within a hundred feet of her and his HP drops to zero, he’ll safely be called back into the locket. Trinket: legit Pokemon.) Someone asked Sam if this revised his opinion of Trinket at all, and he basically went all “As Scanlan, I still think he’s useless…but as Sam, that’s great.” 

- Laura to Matt: “So if I hadn’t brought Trinket out right then, would I ever have gotten this…?”
Matt: “Nope.”

- They also apparently went waaaaaay around something Matt had planned for the Threshold Crest. Percy and Keyleth, getting all sneaky…

- One of the very (if not the) first questions asked, actually: what’s in Matt’s notes. We got to see them! …albeit at a distance. :) “It’s sort of like a report…” Bullet points on the basics, then more detailed info about characters and places, all sorts of little things.

- Someone in the audience really was there all the way from Europe, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s the one who won (by random cast selection of a letter and number, corresponding to his seat) the infamous broken motherboard from a few weeks ago. Which prompted a few jokes about how to get THAT thing home / past the TSA…

- Someone asked about their favorite projects they’ve done / characters they’ve played, which prompted a couple “there’s cool stuff I can’t talk about”-type answers, but as Travis pointed out, “We’ve lived with these characters longer than anything else.”

- Liam got asked about running games like this with kids, and his recommendations had a lot to do with simplifying things: shorter, more linear missions, only a couple significant branches, basically keeping things contained and on track.

- Matt jokingly commenting re: guests / additional party members / group size, which is already a lot to wrangle: “I love Zahra as much as the next person, BUT…” 

- There was a question about the conversion from Pathfinder to 5E and whether or not Matt would have done it if they hadn’t done the show. Verdict: yes. As I recall it, Matt said he’d sort of gotten burned by 4th Edition (there were a lot of sympathetic groans) but 5th was more promising, especially for a group of that size, since it streamlined so much of the combat mechanics. So the show stepped up his timeline a bit on the conversion, but he would have done it anyway.

- The last question was about which roleplay moments they’re all the most proud of. Taliesin answered with that conversation Percy and Keyleth had about civilization during “Hope,” in part because he said in real life, he’s much more like Keyleth and Marisha’s much more like Percy, so when they get into these inverted debates and have to take the other’s side, they both keep having moments of, “Damn it, that’s a good point…” Meanwhile, Sam cited the whole thing with Kaylie, if I recall right, and the whole triceratops escapade (forgot that, added!); Travis mentioned a couple moments and I forget what one of them was, argh hah, thank you, Reddit, you were useful here: the scene in the toilet talking with his sword :) , and I believe he brought up Kevdak; Laura went to the conversation with Syldor, in part because she really had no idea how that was going to go; and Liam’s response included “from going through the Briarwoods’ door right up through not dying.” 

- …and I’m forgetting things. But this is a fair bit of it!

eta: I also got my memory jogged by PungentPomegranates’ comment on Reddit, and I’m just going to quote this bit for my own reference:

There was also a question like, “What is one thing you still want to explore with your character from a roleplaying perspective that you haven’t been able to do so far?” I can’t remember all the answers. But Travis answered he would like to see Grog fall in love and explore that side of him. Sam mentioned he was really curious to see what would happen if one of them died, not that he actually wants it to happen. But that he wants to see how the group/characters would react, what they would do after the fact, and what having a new character would do to the group dynamic. Matt went on to say how close it has been to happening and that as the story progressed there was a greater chance of it now that they were going deeper into the Fey Wild and going to places in the future like The Abyss. They all joked it would probably be Liam/Vax who would die first.

anonymous asked:

Laney Boggs

Laney Boggs: a jock/outcast AU (this went a little different!)


No one at BHHS understands how Derek and Stiles work.

Derek’s the captain of the basketball team, the kid who everyone wants to be friends with, and Stiles is the guy making snarky remarks about jocks while reading comic books.

Come lunch, they’re almost always squished close on a bench outside; Derek’s arm draped over Stiles’ shoulders, and Stiles’ leg hooked over Derek’s thigh as they share out their food.

“Mini muffins?” Derek noses at Stiles’ ear, looking down at Stiles’ lunch bag.

“You know my mom makes extra because she knows you steal them from me.”

“S'not stealing,” Derek says, stuffing one in his mouth and grinning, muffin bits smeared across his teeth.

“That’s disgusting.”  Stiles reaches over and grabs one of the turkey and provolone sandwiches from Derek’s lunch.  "You’re not cute.“

"Lies.”  Kissing Stiles’ temple, Derek takes another mini muffin and looks out over the quad.  "Are you waiting for me after practice?“

Keep reading