these are the ones that were ok enough to see the light of day

taz modern college au headcanons where also they all live in seattle

(aka my extremely niche au that only appeals to me)

  • The Plot Here: the IPRE crew is a ragtag group of friends at college (probably UW? definitely UW)
  • John is an RA who’s trying to End All Campus Parties
  • The IPRE crew is constantly trying to throw epic parties and have a good time at them before John comes and shuts them down
  • The Light of Creation is one of these things
  • The crew and John are locked in a constant battle where John crashes their parties and steals it if they don’t hide it fast enough and then they have to sneak into his dorm to steal it back
  • Ango is also there he’s like a high schooler who got early acceptance into college
  • The crew adopts him accidentally
  • IPRE Robes = matching red snuggies that Barry made for the final project in that sewing class he took as an elective one year
  • garfield is a really weird weed dealer. what is he even majoring in?? does he even go here?? nobody knows but he has a weird little shop set up in a closet nobody uses anymore

more headcanons about everyone:

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Lipstick

(Also posted on AO3)

Draco found the tube under his bed. He knew it was the lipstick Pansy had lost and had been bitching about for days to anyone within earshot. He also knew that she had owl ordered a new one although, that wasn’t why he didn’t give it back.

He waited until everyone was in the great hall for dinner, spell locking the bathroom door behind him before he even dared to take the lipstick from his pocket. He opened it carefully, setting the outer tube on the ceramic counter with a soft click that seemed to fill the empty room. He twisted the tube and the deep red lipstick rose, feeling accusing just by being exposed to the air, in his hands, alone in this room.

A single faint tremor went through his hand. If his friends, if his family ever found out- He couldn’t bear the thought. But it was just curiosity, nothing more. Once he had done it, he would just leave the lipstick in the common room somewhere and be done with it. It was just once.

Draco bit his bottom lip thoughtfully and then lean forward. He hastily dried his lip with his thumb and then carefully traced his bottom lip, leaving pale red in its wake. He blinked, his heart rate picking up as he carefully went over his lip until the color was as deep and rich as the lipstick itself. He was a little too hasty on his upper lip and had to use some tissue to clean up the line until it was perfect.

He pressed his lips together and let them go. It was like looking at someone else. He had never paid much attention to his lips before except in passing.  They had a nice shape and the lipstick made them seem fuller and bigger. Draco leaned back from the mirror, shivering when he took in all of himself. The red was so stark against his pale skin, stark and bold. His cheeks were flushing with excitement and nerves.

He liked it. He liked everything about it.

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Beanies and Negotiations (Part 4)

Originally posted by dailyriverdale

Part one here    Part two here    Part three here

Anon requests: can you continue the beanies and negotiations series !!! it’s great btw i really wanna see where it goes !!

please beanies and negotiations part 4 it’s sooo good

Could you PLEASE do a part 4 of Beanies and negotiations?? It’s so good and I love your writing!

Part 4!

could please do a part 4 for beanies and negotiations it’s sooo good ! love your blog btw

A part four would be aWESOME

Beanies and negotiations part 4??

I think I’m speaking for everyone when I say we want more of Beanies and Negotiations!!!

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: A flash to the past and a flash to the future

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,161

A/N: ok, I’m gonna be honest with you guys: I did not want to make a 4th part.  I had written the 3rd part hoping it would give you guys enough closure, but you requested more.  Now that I’ve written it, I couldn’t be happier with this ending.  Enjoy!!


(Y/N), Betty, and Archie were running around, playing in the park.  Their giggles resonated through the neighborhood, all the people down the street able to hear the children perfectly.  Archie’s dad sat on a bench, supervising them from afar.  He smiled at the three kids, happy to see his son so content with his friends.  Suddenly, (Y/N) halted, interrupting their game of tag.

“Look over there,” she said, pointing her finger.  She was pointing at another kid who appeared to be their age, scrawny and alone.  He sat on a swing and stared down at his shoes. There was a grey beanie perched on his head, but it was much too big on him.

“(Y/N),” Betty hissed, “my mom said it’s rude to point.”  

“Fine,” (Y/N) replied, putting her finger down.  “I won’t point.”  Instead, she marched over to the lonesome boy.  His head snapped up when he heard footsteps approaching him.  “Hi,” she greeted him.

“Hi,” he replied, looking puzzled as to why this girl was talking to him.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Jughead.”

“That’s a funny name,” she laughed, but she noticed his angered face and stopped.  “I’m (Y/N).”  Jughead nodded.  “How old are you, Jughead?”

“I’m four,” he replied, sticking out his hand to show the number on his fingers.  (Y/N) beamed.

“I’m four, too!” Jughead smiled at her and the two children fell into a small silence.  Finally, (Y/N) broke it when she asked, “Why are you alone?”

“My sister is sick,” he responded, slouching.  “So now I have no one to play with.”

“You can play with us!” (Y/N) offered, pointing at her two friends who were watching from afar. Jughead’s face lit up.

“Really?” he asked, jumping off the swing.  (Y/N) nodded enthusiastically.

“Really!  And then we can all be best friends.”  She grabbed his hand and led him over to Archie and Betty. “Archie, Betty, this is Jughead.”

“Hi,” Betty smiled, sticking out her hand.  Jughead tentatively shook it.  “I’m Betty.”

“And I’m Archie,” he waved. Jughead waved back.  The children quickly resumed their game of tag, this time, Jughead joining them.  They played for hours until the sky began to darken, Riverdale turning orange under the sunset’s light.

“Kids!” Archie’s dad called out, standing up from the bench.  “It’s time to go.”  The four kids exchanged bittersweet smiles, waving goodbye to their newfound friend.


After that day, Betty, Archie, and (Y/N) started begging to go to the park every day from dawn till dusk. The four of them soon became attached at the hip, and you could not see one person without the other three close behind.  Soon, all of Riverdale grew fond of the tight-knitted friend group.

Two years later, the four inseparable friends found themselves in Archie’s backyard.  Their shrieks of delight filled Mr. Andrews, who was watching from inside the kitchen, with warmth.  They had just grown bored of a game of hide-and-seek, and while Betty and Archie just sat in the grass, Jughead and (Y/N) continued to chase each other around.  Suddenly, Jughead stopped, causing (Y/N) to turn around.  He took off his beanie and, grinning madly, got down on one knee. Betty and Archie gasped as they ran over to watch.

“(Y/N),” Jughead started, holding out his beaning like a ring, “will you marry me?”  (Y/N) beamed as she stared at her best friend.  She took the beanie from his hands and placed it on her head, then helped Jughead stand up.

“We’re much too young to get married, Juggie,” she responded, and Jughead deflated.  “But-” he perked up, “ask me again when we’re eighteen and I’ll say yes.”

“You promise?” Jughead asked, holding out his pinky.  (Y/N) smiled and nodded, hooking her pinky with his.

“Pinky promise.”


Flash forward twelve years, after the first proposal and Jason Blossom’s death.  Past the beanie incident and the flannel, jacket, and sweater incidents.  After the kiss at Pop’s, and many more that happened after that night.

Twelve years after Jughead proposed to (Y/N) with a grey beanie, they graduated.  Through the years, their friend group grew to include others, such as Kevin and Veronica.  After the graduation ceremony, they went to the Lodge’s house for a celebration.  The party was in full swing: music blasting from the speakers, snacks filling up tables, and graduated high school students dancing everywhere.  (Y/N) had managed to get Jughead on the dance floor, both of them laughing at each other’s lack of dancing skills.  She wore his grey beanie and a wide grin.

The party began to die down, everyone growing tired after their long day.  Most people were sitting on the couch, quietly chatting amongst themselves.  (Y/N) sat on Jughead’s lap as they both conversed with Betty and Veronica. Suddenly, Jughead got up from under (Y/N).

“Excuse me, can I have everyone’s attention?” he yelled, successfully silencing the guests.  “Thank you.  Now if you didn’t happen to already know this, (Y/N) and I have been together for quite a while.”  Everyone in the room chuckled.  (Y/N) looked up at Jughead with a puzzled smile.

“What are you doing, Juggie?” she whispered, although everyone was able to hear her.  Jughead winked at her and continued.

“But something most of you probably didn’t know is that I proposed to (Y/N).”  The crowd gasped dramatically, and Jughead smirked.  “When we were six.”  Everyone rolled their eyes and laughed.  Jughead grabbed (Y/N)’s hand and made her stand up with him.  “And she said no!  Something about how we were too young,” he scoffed, and she giggled. “But she did promise me she’d say yes one day.  When we were eighteen, in fact.”  He got down on one knee, and everyone gasped, including (Y/N).  

“Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath, her hands covering her mouth in shock.  Tears began to cloud her eyes.

“(Y/N),” Jughead began, fishing around in his pocket.  “I have loved you since the day I proposed to you.  For a long time after that, I thought we were just friends, and I thought that you liked it that way.  And it took me a long while to realize it, but with the help of some of our friends-” Archie, Betty, Veronica, and Kevin shared a smirk, “I realized that we were meant to be more.  Now, I’m gonna try this again, and I’m hoping this time you’ll say yes.  Because, you know, you pinky promised you would when we were six.”  Jughead pulled out a small box and opened it, revealing a beautiful, sparkling ring.  “(Y/N),” he asked, eyes full of hope, “will you marry me?”

(Y/N) couldn’t speak. She gleefully nodded, attempting to wipe some of the tears off her face.

“Yes,” she finally managed to choke out, laughing.  “Yes, of course, Juggie.”  The whole room burst into cheers, and Jughead shot up, placed the ring on (Y/N)’s finger, and kissed her.

Betty turned to Veronica, smiles plastered on both of their faces, and whispered, “Thank god for that beanie.”

From the Other Side of the Signing Table

“I don’t know what to say to you,” the girl said. “Um, thanks, I guess.”

“Thanks is good,” I replied.

Silence stretched, punctuated only by the scuffle of a Sharpie on a page.

We were in the same boat, the girl and I — both at a book festival, both at the end of a long day full of people, both in a signing line that had been going on for an hour already. There was only one big difference between us: she was on one side of the table, and I was on the other. Sometimes that difference seems to matter more than others.

Before I was published, I read a lot of accounts of what it was like to have your work out there, but I never read anything about what it was like to have yourself out there. I suppose I never really thought about it, to tell you the truth. I thought you wrote a book and hopefully people liked it and if I thought about book tours at all, I figured they involved standing on a stage for a bit before disappearing into a rental car. The truth, however, is that now — ten years and fifteen novels in to my career — most of my hours in front of people are spent in a signing line. Forty minutes on a stage or behind a table for a panel, and then two or three hours meeting a few hundred strangers. I had no idea what it would be like.

This is what it’s like.


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Batfamily NSFW headcanons

Well, here it is. Because of the nature of the questions, IT IS NSFW, so if you’re uncomfortable with that, do not read, I have PLENTY of other work that aren’t NSFW at all that you can check ;-) (right here, my masterlist blog : https://ella-ravenwood-archives.tumblr.com). Anyway, I’m not great at writing headcanons so thought I practice a bit…hope you’ll still like it :

_________________________________________________

The Goodies-

Bruce Wayne

  • What turns them on?

✶When you touch him inappropriately in public. Especially at charities, galas and other balls. It drives him crazy the way you do it so sneakily so that no one but him notice. It’s a sure way to convince him to go home earlier. 
✶Seeing you putting someone in their place with your wits and sarcasms after they’ve been rude to you…Oh he lives for this, and will have trouble to concentrate on anything else but wanting you. 
✶Your smile. Your laugh. The way you light up his dark World.
✶That man has a thing with lifting your skirt slowly, and putting your panties aside. He couldn’t even tell you why, he just loves it. And obviously, it instantly turns him on when you let him.
✶Knowing that the emotions he feels for you can outlast the orgasm you both had. Oh yes. Knowing he’s loved, and can let go with you. 

  • What turns them off?

There is very few things that turns him off when he’s with you, if not nothing (like literally, even when you’re being annoying, or when he’s being an ass, or if you just woke up and are disheveled and not really attractive…he’d still want you), as everything you do is just…Wow. He can’t get enough of you. Everything you do turns him on really. But He had experiences with other women before… :
✶Women who couldn’t handle a simple conversation. No connection at all with them, just sex. In and out, and then they’d be gone. He hated that. Which makes him love you more when you just spent time in each others arms talking about anything and everything. You’re the only one that makes him want to talk about what he feels and such…It’s a big relief. You’re his big relief. 
✶He use to hate SO MUCH when he took a woman out that had a “fake hollywood accent”, or any fake accent. A lot of fake French one. They thought it made them more interesting, but the only thing it did, was making them super annoying to hear so…Yeah, massive turn off. He cringed more than once because of a high pitched voice, or an annoying one with a stupid fake accent.
✶Narcissism turned him off instantly. Oh the many women Alfred had to escort out because Bruce misjudge them…It happened to him a lot when he was younger, long before meeting you. He thought he’d find a kindred spirit, but turned out, it would just be a woman who wanted him for his money and fame, and who thought she was irresistible. Spoiler : those kind of women were rarely irresistible, to him at least. He could resist them very well. He could resist most women very well…But you. Oh you, it’s impossible. 
✶Lack of passion. He just cannot even think about dating someone who isn’t passionate about anything. 
✶Fake tits. That doesn’t even remotely look (or feel) natural. Fuck them. And oh the women he went out as a younger man had a lot of fake things physically (fake ass, tits, teeth, nose…), every thing was fake in them really, to their personality and smiles. He hated that with a passion, and often wished he could drop the “womanizer” and “playboy” persona, that wasn’t like his real him at all…Everything changed when you came in. You’re the best thing that ever happened to him, nothing fake about you (for real though, if you wanna tell him to fuck off because he’s being an asshole, they you’ll do so, and he loves that!). 

  • Kinks?

Nearly violent sex. Bitey, grabby, pinny, not-holding-back sex. Paired with sweet words of encouragement and gentle forehead/Cheek kisses.
✶Surprise sex. You waking him up because his cock is in your mouth. Him whipping you around while you walk around the Manor, and boom.
✶Sex after an injury. He loves the way you’re careful with him, or how he needs to take care of you because you’re hurt. 
✶He likes giving more than receiving. WITH YOU. Because he feels like he has to thank you to put up with his shit and antics…And you do it so well, oh he just has to please you. Doesn’t mean he’s against a good old blowjob though. Oh, and damn, the good old 69 am I right ? 
✶He can be vanilla and/or rough, and you love it. He would never really hurt you (even if you ask him too, just light biting really), and most of the time you make love, rarely just fucking (unless you haven’t seen each other for a long time and you just need it)…He’s all for the sweet and cuddly aftercare. Cheesy man. 

Richard Grayson

  • What turns them on?

✶You. Your mere presence. A slight touch of your fingers on his arms. And he’s gone. It’s not always great, like, you’d be in public and you’d just touch his thigh softly, as you do, and he’d give you “that look”…
✶Snuggles. Cuddles. Oh yes. 
✶Neck kisses. It drives him beyond wild. 
✶He will get harder inside you by the mere sound of your moans…And hearing you orgasm, clenching around him, is a sure way to send him over the edge too. 

  • What turns them off?

✶Being with someone boring. Glad he found you. 
✶If he’s with a “selfish lover”. He doesn’t mind giving at all, but for him, making love is a way to show mutual respect, to show how much you mean for each other…so if he’s with someone who only think about themselves ? No.
✶When his partner is too forward about wanting sex. “Want to fuck ?” Oh. Nope, he likes when it’s subtle. When you give him sultry looks and such. He likes the building up. 
✶Bad breath. As simple as that. 

  • Kinks?

✶Once, he was arguing with you and in the heat of the moment, you slapped his face. Of course you excused yourself profusely, until you realized he went from being annoyed to argue to being very aroused…You both learned something about him that day. So, light BDSM. Who would’ve thought ?
✶He lives for silly giggly sex. Pleasure, your moans and bad puns, how could it get better than this ? 
✶Women’s mid sections. He loves slight belly and curvy hips. As simple as that.
✶He’s a sucker for romantic evening, that turns hot and steamy. 
✶Rubbing your legs, ass and back during the act. Oh yeah. 

Jason Todd

  • What turns them on?

✶Seeing you punching people. It sounds awful, but the way you don’t let anyone walk on your feet and don’t hesitate to punch people even twice your size…He loves it. 
✶If you wear a dress, your legs will instantly turn him on. He loves your legs. Especially when wrapped around his waist. 
✶You love to dance, and hum songs you like…Big turn on every time, as he can’t get enough of your voice, and you’re damn sexy when you dance. 
✶When you’re trying to contain yourself, but simply cannot. Muscles spasm and contort as you climax.

  • What turns them off?

✶Judgmental people. The kind who decides what you are before knowing you.
✶The daddy kink. Oh God, NO. 
✶It’s something kinda silly, he knows, but he hates long unclipped toe nails. Ew. You laughed the first time he told you. Well, yeah, it’s super gross. 
✶Lacks of enthusiasm and initiative. He can’t be with a woman who lets him do everything, chose everything for her. And who never initiates anything. Basically, the opposite of you. 

  • Kinks?

✶Clothed sex, because it feels like you two are so hungry for each other, that you just can’t bother getting all the clothes off. 
✶Sex games. First one to come loses. 
✶Public and semi-public sex. Hey, he likes danger. When you two are almost caught…Oh the thrill.
✶He’s very creative when it comes to sexual position. As long as your comfortable of course…He’s sure glad you’re flexible by the way.

Timothy Drake

  • What turns them on?

✶Intelligent woman. Intelligence in general. 
✶The way you look at him, with so much love, that makes him feel like he’s really wanted and needed…Sometimes, he just needs validation, as he doesn’t always gets it with his family. Fortunately, you’re here for that. 
✶Nibbling on his ears and neck, while whispering sweet nothing.
✶Eye contact. He just loves it. 

  • What turns them off?

✶Loud people. Oh God can’t they shut up ? He hasn’t slept for the past 36 hours and they’re making his head explode. Instant turn off if there’s too many noises. Though he loves your screams…It’s different ok ? 
✶If you starfish. Making love is a thing he wants to do with you, not to a very passive you. Fortunately, you’re never able to “starfish”…you’d do it as a joke sometimes, because you know he doesn’t like it, and then you wouldn’t be able to resist moving in sync with him.
✶Nothing to talk about but yourself. Someone obsessed with themselves. Oh he hates it. He’s so glad he didn’t find someone who didn’t had any subject else than themselves. He’s so glad he found you. Because with the name “Wayne” comes a plethora of women only interested in money and fame, who loves no one else but themselves. 
✶He hates feigned incompetence. Like a girl who acts like she doesn’t know anything about sex, while she’s clearly experienced. He always feels manipulated when this happens…

  • Kinks?

✶He loves to “discover boundaries”. Like what you like, dislike, what you two are willing to do, the extent you can go etc etc..Knowing just until where both of your boundaries go. 
✶You two nerds invented a secret “sex langage” to be able to talk about it in public. Of course you would.  
✶Nerdy dirty talk. Oh the puns about technologies, and pop culture you two are able to get out while making love : it’s endless. And he loves it. It makes him feel like he found just the perfect person for him. And you really are. 
✶Lazy morning sex. Bath sex. Those private moment with you, where you can just both enjoy each other. Domestic moment sex if that makes sense. 

Damian Wayne (older than his current age of course)

  • What turns them on?

✶Training together, seeing you fight and such. The way your body moves…Gets him every time. 
✶The way you look at him and tell him “I love you”. He’ll never get tired of it. Seeing the love in your eyes for him, knowing you mean it, that there’s at least one person in the world that really love and appreciate his bratty ass. 
✶When you caress his hair, fingers massaging his scalp. Soothing and arousing at the same time. 
✶The way you bite your lips or stick out your tongue when you’re focused. 

  • What turns them off?

✶He tries to be nice about it but…Body odors. If you smell because you two jumped on each other before you could take a shower…Instant turn off. Even his own smell could turn him off. Basically, if it smells bad, he won’t be able to concentrate on sex at all. He’s a living paradox however as he loves the smell of your sweat.
✶Hurting you. 
✶Rude and vulgar people. 
✶Lack of empathy.

  • Kinks?

✶Sensory deprivation. Like blindfolded, so you have to rely on trust and such. Or handcuffed, so you can’t touch and…again trust comes in. Sometimes, he would put headphones on your ears, so you wouldn’t know what his next move is by the sound…Basically, knowing you trust him and letting him do all that. 
✶He likes trying new things.But will never do anything you’re uncomfortable doing of course. Consent is key.  
✶Always the tease though. 
✶Sometimes, he’ll argue with you ON PURPOSE just for the amazing make-up sex afterward…Each time you’ll give him a look meaning : “really Damian ?”, and he’ll just smirk back at you. He knows how to push all your buttons, and oh, he just really like the way you are during make-up sex. 
✶You come first. He loves you, he wants you to be comfortable, but he also like trying new things and he’s so damn glad he found someones like you who’s willing to be adventurous. 

Todrick Hall speaks out about Taylor Swift video backlash

Yahoo Music: So when some people saw you dancing in “Look What You Made Me Do,” they were not pleased, to put it mildly. What exactly happened?

Todrick Hall: They saw a clip, just a few seconds, that featured Taylor Swift standing in a line of dancers, and they started forming all types of conclusions. I was just very confused by that, because I knew that there was nothing “Formation”-esque or Lemonade-esque about the video. Artistically, I didn’t feel that was the case. I’m a humongous Beyoncé fan. I’ve worked with Beyoncé. I’ve choreographed for Beyoncé. And I would never intentionally be a part of art that I felt was ripping off my favorite artist of all time. But I felt like these were two completely different lanes.

“Sellout” was one of the common names you were called.

Yes, one of the main things that people said was, “He wanted to make his money. Well, good for him, he got paid. And I guess payment is enough for you to sell out your family, your people, your community.” But this had nothing to do with money. I didn’t do this Taylor Swift video for money. I did it because she’s my friend, and she was very excited about it. And she wanted people to be there who she could trust, because it was a very big undertaking. I was proud to be there, but money was not a factor for me. I don’t do things for money.

But there are people online who have a problem with the fact in general that you and Taylor are friends?

Yes, I have gotten comments from people who are upset and have literally said the fact that I am friends with a white person is a problem, because white people don’t possess the ability to love or ever truly care about black people. And I find that very disheartening. I’ve grown up in a neighborhood where I went to church with and lived with and went to school with beautiful black people; when I look at them, I see myself. But then I was also in a peculiar situation, because I danced in a dance group where I was the only black person in the dance studio. In some cases, I was the only black cheerleader in my school. I did theater where I was the only black person, the “token black person.” And working at Disney, oftentimes I was the only black person in the show at Disney World or Disneyland on any given day. And I also did tours where I was the only black singer; I did a cruise ship where I was the only black person in the cast. So I’ve been used to being in situations where I’ve had to find friendships and find love and find similarities. My whole brand, everything that I stand for and everything I’ve always stood for, is equality and love. So it’s just really difficult for me to understand why it is an issue for people, a legitimate issue, that I have white friends, and that Taylor Swift happens to be one of my many white friends.

Apparently there’s a thing called the “cookout,” which is like your invitation to be a part of the black community. Some people have, like, deemed themselves the Woke Police, and they decide to strip you online of your invitation to attend the “cookout.” It boggles my mind that people are deciding whether or not I’m down enough, black enough, or woke enough to be “invited.” If I have to hate people and judge people based on their race, sexual orientation, or religion, then sorry, but I’d rather order pizza.

What is Taylor really like? Describe your bond.

What people are mostly forgetting is that Taylor Swift really is my friend. Sometimes because she is a celebrity of such a huge status, inarguably one of the biggest stars of our generation, people forget that there is a human side to her, that she has real friends that she calls and talks to about her real problems. And I call her, and I have cried on her shoulder about my own relationship issues and family issues and career issues. We are friends, and so when she asked me to do this video, I said absolutely. It wasn’t a question for me. I trust her, and I had no problem doing the video. And I just think that it’s really sad and shocking that me doing four eight-counts of choreography is enough to make people feel the need to question my “blackness” or “wokeness.”

Taylor came to see me in Kinky Boots and she stayed after the show for two hours and met every single person in that cast — took pictures, signed stuff, met every usher, every custodian, every orchestra member, every producer and their kids. And then she went outside and met fans outside the theater afterwards, stayed there for over two and a half hours after the show and wouldn’t leave until every single person had been met. There are just very few celebrities in the world who would do something like that. She didn’t have to do that. She could’ve come to the show, said hi to me, and left. That’s just what type of person she is, and what type of person she’s always been. Her parents raised her so well, and when you’re in the room with them, you can feel that energy.

It just is shocking to me that people will see an image of her and hear stories online about her, or arguments with other celebrities who she did not ask to be involved with, who recorded her against her will without her knowing and then decided to release six-second clips of a conversation that happened to paint her to be this evil person that I don’t believe that she is. Come on, we’ve watched millions of episodes of Law & Order or seen Judge Judy a million times; how are they not able to conclude that there is something missing from this? If you feel the need to record someone on video with people there, the intentions may not have been the most pure.

Some of the criticism Taylor has received recently has to do with the fact that she has not been politically outspoken in past years, like some of her peers Katy Perry or Lady Gaga.

Yeah, many people have been tweeting me, “She supports Trump! She probably voted for Trump!” They’re making this huge assumption, when Taylor has never to my knowledge come out and said anything about her being pro-Trump. But people would still rather believe that she is the one who is pushing Trump’s agenda. That was one of the major things that was tweeted at me, and I’m like, “So you are mad that you think she might support Donald Trump? But you’re not mad that Kanye has been very openly pro-Trump?” I don’t understand that.

Look, I’m not Taylor Swift, so I can’t speak for her and why she does or does not choose to speak or not speak about any specific subject matter. All I know is that she has been nothing but a great person to me. Her family has welcomed me into their home and treated me like I was a member of the family. They’ve welcomed every single person I’ve ever brought around them. I’ve never felt like there was ever a moment that I couldn’t be myself, and talk about the fact that I’m gay or whatever. At Thanksgiving, we all sat around and talked about it, and there was another one of her friends there who was African-American, and we all sat down and talked about racism and watched 13th on Netflix and talked about how important it was. It was one of the most beautiful conversations I’ve ever had, because sometimes as an African-American person I feel like I can’t voice my opinion about how difficult it is to be not just an African-American person in the entertainment industry, but how scary it is to be black in America, in even 2017.

When it comes to Taylor, all I know is that she has been a sweet, amazing human being to me. When she calls me, it’s hardly ever to talk about her accomplishments or things that she’s going through. She calls me and says, “How’s your heart? Are you OK?” I’ve been around her an awful lot, and if it were some type of crazy, fake façade, I think I would have figured it out by now. I feel like it’s a genuine part of who she is, and she’s a human being. Has she made mistakes? Yes. Will she make mistakes again? Yes. But let the person in America who has not made mistakes raise their hand.

I think that I’m on my own journey; every artist is on their own journey. Maybe one day, Taylor will start being super-political, and using her voice to do thing that people think that she should be doing. But even then, she will probably be ridiculed for not being vocal enough, or not being on the right side. I don’t think that there is a way to win in this industry, so every person has to take their own journey at their own pace, at their own time, and do what they feel like is right. All I know is that Taylor has been nothing but sweet to me since day one, and if she asks me to do a video, I’m absolutely going be there.

I’m not apologizing for being a part of the video and doing four eight-counts of choreography in it. I thought it was a great piece of art. I thought it was awesome. It’s broken so many records and I’m proud to be a part of it. I don’t think I’ve sold out my race or my community — the gay community, the black community. I think that I was just in a piece of art that my friend made. I’m not issuing a statement to people about it to explain myself, because there’s nothing to explain. I’m not sorry that I did it, and I don’t think that it was a mistake. If I had a do-over, I would absolutely be there for another eight hours, in heels, dancing with her.

Is Taylor aware of the heat you’ve gotten for being in her video?

I have talked to her about it, and she has been very uplifting and given me a lot of information about how when you’re doing big things, there will always be people who have something to say about it. But I think that Beyoncé gave me the best advice when I met her. She said, “Don’t scroll down. Don’t go down and look at comments, and when you do something as an artist, make a decision and stick to it. You don’t need to apologize for things that you’ve done.” I use that all the time.

You have gotten this sort of criticism before.

Yeah. In the beginning, it was because I did videos based on stereotypes of a particular group that put people in a negative light. And so I took those notes, because I consider myself to be a humble person, and I tried to apply them, and tried to do less work on my YouTube channel that stereotyped people, less work that stereotyped my race as being “ghetto” or “ratchet,” because I did understand the argument. I think it’s a really difficult thing when you toe the line with comedy, because there are certain things that some people are going to think is funny, but then some people are always going to be offended. The political climate has changed so much over the past months since Donald Trump became president, and it has just been a very scary place to create content online. So I tried to do whatever I can to create content that everyone can love and that is inclusive of everybody.

It’s just something that I deal with every day. I wrote an album about my life [Straight Outta Oz], about how I fell in love at 19 years old with a boy who was British and who just happened to be white. I wrote a song called “Color,” and in the song I say the line, “You’re my favorite hue.” What I meant by that when I wrote the song was it’s supposed to be a direct relation to the 1939 Wizard of Oz film, and then everything turns to color when Dorothy gets to Oz. I felt like my whole world was black and white before I met this person. But people took that as that white was my favorite color, and that was what I preferred. People have assumed that am the type of person that refuses to date people of my own race or associate with people of my own race. Which, I don’t feel the need to prove to them that I have in fact dated multiple black men and Puerto Rican, Latino men. I’m an equal opportunist when it comes to love. I think everyone is beautiful. You fall in love with a person, not the outer layer of skin.

It’s really frustrating because I don’t think that people realize that when I got to L.A., I lived in not a great neighborhood. A policeman drove up onto a sidewalk, got out of the car, pushed my face on the ground, put my hands on my back, pulled a gun out on me. I have never felt so scared in my entire life. I have witnessed so many things like that. It’s very difficult for me to go and spend time in a predominantly Caucasian neighborhood without the cops being called on me, because people don’t know why I’m there and they think I look suspicious. I have had a lot of issues and dealt with racism in the same capacity as a lot of other people. I have written so many songs, even on Straight Outta Oz, about the Black Lives Matter movement, because it’s something that I’m very passionate about. It’s something that I definitely use my voice and my platform to speak out against. So it’s frustrating that people who have never met me in person like to make huge, incorrect assumptions about me and go and scream them and yell them from the rooftops online.

I just strongly feel that if we can’t get along within our own race, and have to point fingers and yell at people who we think don’t have our back when we don’t know anything about them — we haven’t listened to the facts, we haven’t seen the footage, there are no receipts to show that this person is not a proud African-American person who isn’t down to fight for equality for everyone’s sake — if we fight with each other so much that we’re tearing down our own race and our own community, how does that make us any better than the people in Charlottesville, carrying the tiki torches? How are we any better than those people, and how are we ever going to meet in the middle and finally be able to say, “Let’s be one unified group of people”? I just don’t understand how it’s possible, and that what makes me so upset.

Online outrage is at an all-time high right now, for sure. Everyone is on edge.

I think that we’ve got to figure out a way within our own community to stop tearing people down and stop making assumptions and looking for reasons to be mad. I don’t know what is happening in the world right now, but now is a scary time. People are looking for someone to blame and someone to point fingers at. I don’t think that Taylor Swift is the problem with America right now. People can try to make that be the issue, but there is a much bigger issue here in our country that we need to look at and recognize, and figure out what we can do to be a part of making the world a better place, to be nice and sweet and kind to each other, and to realize that racism is a huge horrible thing that has kept a lot of people down.

But I think it’s going to take every race, every minority, every gay person, every trans person, every straight person, waking up and realizing that we can’t do this alone. We can’t divide into our own little sections and decide that we’re going to secretly hate each other and be mad if one person goes over and shakes the hand of somebody on the other team. We all need to be one team. We all have to go out and extend an olive branch to each other and try to help each other out and try to build one another up. That’s the only way that we can be successful. That’s the only way that we can make this world the beautiful place that God created it to be. Spread love, and love each other. That’s what I try to do.

Did you engage with any of your online critics about this video?

I gave no negative tweets, didn’t argue with people on social media, had nothing to say to them. But I even went so far as to give somebody my phone number online so they could call me and said, “If you feel I’ve done something that’s offended you, or if you could shed some light on as to how me being involved with this video or being friends with Taylor Swift — other than the fact that she is white and you feel that she is the epitome of white privilege, the poster child for white privilege … If there’s anything you can do to shed some light to me as to how I can be a better example for young African-American kids growing up, then I would love to talk to you on the phone.” And I meant it. And I talked to them, and I felt like we came to a good place. I’m a humble person; I’m not opposed to taking constructive criticism.

There was a time two years ago where I would’ve damn near gotten carpal tunnel because I would’ve stayed up all night trying to argue back and forth [on Twitter], thinking, “What would Regina George do?” Now I’m adopting the policy, “What would Beyoncé do?” So I’m going to kill all these people with kindness. I’m going to be nice to them, and I’m just going to prove to them, one by one when they meet me, what type of person I am. Support my friends, be nice to people, and do what I have to do to be a good human being and play my part in society and in this crazy political climate.

Obviously I’m not diminishing the horrible things that have happened to get us to this point, but at this point we have a choice to either band together and fight and talk about the real issues and the real problems, and Taylor Swift is not the problem. If we can all accept the fact that there is a bigger problem and start having dialogue and talking to each other — not just with the people that it’s comfortable for us to talk to, our own people and people who look like us, but to people who might not understand where we’re coming from or what we’ve been through — then we might get closer to making this world a unified place, the way that Michael Jackson sang about in his songs and in his music. While I know that is not the theme of “Look What You Made Me Do,” I do believe that is the theme of Taylor Swift’s heart and the person that she truly is on a personal level.

(x)

Let Me Protect You - Mitch Rapp

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Mitch Rapp/Reader

Word Count: 11,337

Warnings: WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN? 18+, NSFW, Oral (both receiving), Orgasm Denial, Multiple Orgasms, Daddy Kink, Shower Sex, Wall Sex, Bondage, Mitch’s Scruff, Mitch’s sexy ass arms and muscles and abs and face and MITCH’S ENTIRE BEING

Notes: Holy. Shit. It’s long overdue but THAT WORD COUNT??? I am dying inside from this. I hope you dirty people like this. Please let me know because this literally killed me inside to write. 

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Whipped Cream (Jungkook smut)

Originally posted by nnochu


Description: Jungkook is your roommate. Among other things, his habit for baking shirtless made it… ‘difficult’ to live with him.

Themes: Smut, baker, collage, roommate au

This fic contains: Smut, adult content, food play, arguing, drinking, mentions of threesomes, swearing

Characters: Jungkook x You, Yoongi, Jimin, Hoseok and Taehyung

words: 7.5k

For this fic I used inspirations of food play and the roommate au from two anons <3

A/N: I refused to come back from my hiatus until I had something for my lovely and patient followers <3 (also, I was keen to come back so i’ll edit this and fix mistakes later)

@chanyeolingss, @jn-jngkk, @sugaspen <3


It wasn’t necessarily the pile of dishes or the trail of clothes that seemed to almost constantly hover around Jungkook like he was some annoying ass Avatar or something that got you so mad. It wasn’t the thick fragrance of his cologne or body wash that drifted through the open plan of your shared apartment every morning, or the smell of his musky sweat when he returned home from his evening jog, or from when he emerges from his room- having clearly just having a ‘fucking mind blowing’ wank. It wasn’t the soft melodies, or exciting electronic beats that flooded from his open window and into yours, nor his big and copious amounts of jackets and coats that made it nearly impossible to get your own fucking clothes from the rack next to the front door. Your frequent burning irritation had nothing to do with his presence, with the evidence of his existence in your apartment and life; it was with the man behind it all. It was with him. With fucking Jeon Jungkook. Ok, and maybe it was also for his fucking annoying baking habits. Did he really need to bring that shit home? Didn’t he get sick of it at work?

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Yuuri & Yurio - Museum Guide

• The Yuris arrive at the museum together, and Yurio is quick dashing to the costume display

• Yuuri has a mini freak out about his costume being on display, worrying if it has been washed properly because he’s scared it might smell sweaty

• Yurio notices that someone is listening in, so Yuuri teases him that it may be one of the Yuri’s Angels. Yurio gets angry, starts shouting at the listener, so Yuuri quickly calms him down by saying that the listener doesn’t look like an Angel

Yurio: Whatever, maybe it’s one of your stupid fans then
Yuuri: Ehh, my fan?!

• Yuuri politely excuses them both, shuffling Yurio off to the next section

• Yuuri begins to pour compliments over Yurio’s short program, saying that it was “super amazing” and that he’s impressed with how Yurio surprassed Victor’s SP score record

• Yuuri comments that Yurio really made the program his own by the time they reached the final

• Yurio goes off, insisting that he still thinks the Eros concept suited him better than Yuuri. He complains about Victor all around, calls him an idiot… Then, softly mutters about how Yuuri did do a great job with his programs in the final, making them into something that suited him perfectly

Yuuri: Ahh, Yurio… you cried at the end of your free skate, didn’t you?
Yurio: I fucking didn’t!
Yuuri: All that emotion coming to a close, it’s easy to understand that your tears fell like waterfalls…
Yurio: Shut up! You’re the one who’s always crying, pig! Last year, you were crying like a piglet in the toilets!*
Yuuri: Not like a pig, but it’s true that I did cry last year. Then again, the fact that a Russian yankee kicked the door down trying to intimidate me is also true…
Yurio: Who are you calling a Russian yankee?!?!

(*Yurio says “buhibuhi” which is the sound of a piglet squealing. So he means that Yuuri’s crying sounded like a pig’s squeal, basically going “oink oink oink.”
However, Yuuri is clearly extremely unaffected by this, and remains gentle and teasing throughout)

Yuuri: Oh hey, Yurio… where’d you go off to with Otabek the day before the final? I saw it on social media, posts about a Kazakh carrying off a Russian…
Yurio: Hey, don’t you know?! My eyes are ones you can’t forget after seeing them just once, like those of a soldier!
Yuuri: Huh?!

(*Japanese “huh” can be quite mocking so Yuuri’s making fun of that statement, in his disbelief)

• The Yuris come up on the “Victor area” and Yurio is distraught by all the Victors, saying being there gives him a bad feeling

• It is also at this point that Yurio realizes… Yuuri is a hardcore Victor “otaku”

Yurio wants to get through the section quickly, but Yuuri lingers a bit. He talks about how it brings back lots of good memories

Yuuri: When I first saw Victor, I felt so inspired to continue skating. I wanted to get stronger, and I got a lot of that strength from Victor…

• Yuuri states that it is still hard to believe that Victor showed up in Hasetsu without warning, and ended up becoming his coach
(Yuuri speaks so softly and affectionately when talking about Victor, my heart)

• Yurio interrupts Yuuri’s sweet musings by yelling, “DUMBASS! You are always talking about Victor, Victor, Victor, nothing but Victor!”

• Yurio shouts that HIS era has begun, and that he is going to wipe Victor off the map. He asserts that next season he’s going to come out at the very top, so everyone needs to watch out

• The Yuris come up to the Kiss and Cry. Yuuri talks about how he put everything Victor taught him into his free skate performance. He says he felt so light and happy to be skating the Yuri on Ice program. He says he had no idea that he would end up breaking Victor’s FS score record, still sounding amazed

• Yuuri congratulates Yurio for winning gold in the GPF

• Yurio insists that both of his programs are great, and that Yuuri is only better at him in one aspect (FS). He promises that he will overtake Yuuri’s skills soon enough

• Yuuri says that’s good, that he’s looking forward to the next season and seeing how both he and Yurio will grow

Yurio: Hey, I have something I’ve always wanted to ask you… What is that thing you’re always holding onto in the Kiss and Cry?
Yuuri: The onigiri?
Yurio: No! The other thing, the yellow-black-white one!
Yuuri: Oh, the tamago sushi? Do you want it? It should fit right in your bag, here you go (gives Yurio the tamago sushi)

Yurio: What, really?! I’m not giving this back, you know, it’s mine now. This is awesome!
Yuuri: …You’re that happy?
Yurio: Yeah, I’ll give it to Gramps! He like sushi and eggs, so this is perfect! I wanna show it to him right now!!
Yuuri: Wow, you’re so excited… Makes me happy seeing that

• Yuuri and Yurio close out the guide with thanks to their supporters, with both of them saying, “Balshoy spasibo!” (A big thank you!) in Russian

Yurio: See you next level!

The Reader and the Writer (Part 2)

Originally posted by stydiaislove

Part one here

Anon requests: can you please do a part two of “The reader and the writer”? i’m shook, lost and now stressed over who she really is

The Reader and the Writer is amazingggg! Are u gonna do a part 2?? I wanna read more!!

could you do a part 2 of the reader and the writer, i’m obsessed!!!

Is there going to be a part 2 for The Reader and the Writer? Can there be a part 2? I loved it by the way :)

PART TWO OF THE READER AND THE WRITER PLEASE OMFG

Omigod, I love your Reader and Writer imagine soooooo much, are you going to write a part two??

OK PLEASE WRITE A PART TWO TO THE READER AND THE WRITER IS WAS SO GOOD!

Wtf?!? The reader and the writer is honestly amazing! I love it 😍 2pt maybe? I wanna know what happens with the reader and Jason

I love love love the reader and the writer, if you aren’t too busy could you please update it with a second part soon? I can’t bear to be left for days without knowing what Jughead found 😂 thanks x

Will there be a part 2 of “the reader and the writer”? Its really good! I hope you will write more of it!

I love this new jughead imagine ! Are you writing a part 2 ?

OH MY GOD PART 2 ASAP

I really love your writing! I’m very excited about part 2 for the Reader and the writer

part 2 of “The Reader and the Writer” ?? it’s greattt 😭

please do a part 2 of the reader and the writer!@@@ I need more!

Can you please do part two or the reader and writer?!?! It is so good!!

The reader and the writer was amazing and i got too attached. Part 2 please if you don’t mind.

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: A confrontation ensues between the reader and the writer

Warnings: none

Word count: 887

A/N: I’m glad you guys liked the first part so much! Enjoy part 2!


(Y/N) didn’t return to Pop’s.  Every night, Jughead sat in his normal booth typing on his computer, but his eyes constantly flicked up towards the entrance.  His friends noticed his shift in attitude.

“Jug,” Archie sat across from him, “you gotta snap out of this.”

“Out of what?” Jughead asked monotonously, rolling his eyes.  “I’m fine, Archie.”

“I know you like to sit here and brood all mysteriously,” Veronica interjected, “but this is sad. Just call (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)?” he scoffed.  “This isn’t about (Y/N).”  When the entire table sent him disbelieving looks, he sighed and looked out the window.  “I already called her.”

“How many times?” Kevin asked with a smirk.  Jughead sighed again, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

“Every night.” Archie, Betty, Veronica, and Kevin all shared a knowing glance.  “I know what you guys are thinking and no, it’s not like that.  I’m not some pathetically smitten person, okay?”

“Okay, Jughead,” Betty said, but rolled her eyes.  “If you insist.”


To say (Y/N) felt guilty would be an understatement.  From the moment she stomped out of that diner, regret gnawed at her inside out. Without the consistency of her nightly stops in Pop’s, she didn’t know what to do with herself.  She spent every night after school in her room sulking. Every night, her phone rang, lighting up with Jughead’s name.  She was tempted to answer it every night, her finger hovering over the answer button, but then she turned away and ignored his call.  (Y/N) missed Pop’s: she missed the delicious foods, the quiet yet comforting atmosphere, and the person who sat across from her in their usual booth.  


One day, Jughead sat with an uneaten burger in front of him, laptop closed.  Today had been an especially slow day, both in Jughead’s mind and Pop’s.  Suddenly, a jingle of the bell signaled that someone new entered the diner.  Jughead sat up a bit to see who it was.  When he identified the new customer, he perked up immediately.  Grabbing a book, he shot up and walked over to the table where she had just sat down.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),” he said, slamming down the book in front of her, “is an author from the 18th century.  She wrote four novels, all of them published under an alias at first.  It was not until two hundred years later that the true author was discovered.  She has been dead for over two hundred years, and she is most certainly not you.”  (Y/N) looked up at him with wide eyes.

“What, I can’t have the same name as someone else?” she fired back, but there was a waver in her voice. Jughead glared as he sat down across from her.

“You see, I would think that, too,” Jughead responded, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “but I searched for you online, and I couldn’t find anything on you.  Not one thing.”

“I like to keep my life private.  I don’t publish stuff about me online.”

“Yeah, but there’s something about everyone on the world wide web if you look hard enough,” Jughead explained, his voice accusingly sharp.  “Now I have two theories: one, you’re a very experienced hacker, and you’ve gone and wiped all information regarding you off the internet; or two, you’re hiding something, and you’re using a dead unpopular author’s name to keep your real identity a secret.  Personally, I’m choosing the latter, considering how well-read you are.”  (Y/N) stared at Jughead with sad, wide eyes.  “When were you going to tell me?”

“I wasn’t,” she whispered. Jughead clenched his jaw and shook his head.  

“Whatever,” he mumbled, standing up.  He began to walk away when (Y/N) shot up from her seat.

“I was born in Riverdale,” she called out to him.  Jughead stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around.

“What?”

“I was born in Riverdale,” she repeated slower.  Jughead neared the table and sat down across from (Y/N).

“So what?”

“So I-,” she started, “I can’t- I can’t just tell you everything.”  Jughead rolled his eyes and began to push his chair out when (Y/N) placed her hand on his, her eyes silently begging him to stay.  “If you care, you’ll trust me.”

“What makes you think I care?” Jughead demanded, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but notice how he didn’t move his hands out from under hers.

“Because you called?” she offered, causing Jughead to sit up a little straighter.  “You called me every night, Jug.”

“I was worried,” he muttered, looking away.  (Y/N) smiled, patted his hand, and stood up.

“Keep writing, Jughead. See you around.”  Spinning on her heel, (Y/N) grabbed her copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray and exited the diner.  Jughead’s eyes followed her figure out until the door closed behind her.  Then he pulled out his laptop and started to furiously type.

And so, a little light shined on the dark mystery of Riverdale’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N) like the calm before the storm.  The writer becomes the reader, the reader becomes the read.  I found myself hooked on her just from a little information, like a drug addict craving his fix.  New girls can never hide in a small town like Riverdale, but God, I knew (Y/N), in all her enigmatic splendor, would lurk in the shadows of this town for as long as she possibly could.”

Part 3 here   Part 4 here

AU where instead of going to Samwell, Jack starts a widely successful Publicly Broadcast show for children.

Jack learns that he is great with kids after coaching them for a little over two years. Moreover, kids are good with Jack. There is no pressure to be anything other than who he is.


It all starts with a local news program doing a fluff piece on Jack Zimmermann’s coaching ability. But then it turned into something completely different when Jack skated onto camera and started to introduce every single one of his kids and what was special about them. He was…really enchanting actually. He didn’t ever really talk down to them. Jack just treated them as a tiny friend. 

They ARE his tiny friends, but that’s not the point. 

The footage they got of “snack time” was really the best. Imagine a good 16 kids piled around this massive man teaching them the best way to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. 

 It should have been obvious that a local channel would contact him. It still surprises Jack. They want him to host a show? Why? Everyone always teased him about how impersonable he was during interviews. Is it because he’s Jack Zimmermann’s son? Or Alicia’s? 

Jack asks all of these questions to his mother and she just laughs. “You made a PB&J interesting to 16 kids just by being you”

Jack figures it wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot. 

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anonymous asked:

pls give us some fluffy klance headcanons i'm starving

i’m literally just.. gonna pick some stuff i saved in my drafts randomly lmao

  • the first time they properly hug, they have that classic “never letting go till someone starts coughing behind them” moment. when they realize for how much they’ve held each other, they separate at the speed of light blushing profusely
  • now that the paladins know there’s a space mall, lance is determined to ask keith on a date there, so he pretends they have to go for a mission. “soooo, coran told me we have to get something for him at the space mall and specifically said he wants you and me to go get it for him” “are you sure? i’ve talked to him 10 minutes ago and he didn’t mention anything?” “uh…yeah? he told me ‘cause i’m his favourite paladin duh!” “alright let’s go”. so once they’re there lance confesses there was no commission to do for coran he just wanted to ask him out and keith smiles fondly, takes his hand and they walk together around the shops
  • supposing lance was jealous of keith during 2x06, i want him to ask keith again about him and allura. “you know i just wanna make sure….not that i like you or anything…” “lance. you know there’s nothing between me and the princess i just wanted to see how long it would take for you to confess”
  • i’m not exactly fond of angst, but near death experience love confessions are starting to grow on me so there’s that
  • red and blue are married and therefore have a deep connection so they spill to their respective paladins what the other thinks of them and :)
  • or even better…. meeting some aliens that can read minds or something and one of them is like “the red paladin is in love with one of u” and lance *laughs nervously* “ahah it can’t be me right” keith: stares at the camera
  • i want!! more lance gushing over keith but this time keith actually hears him and does the same back. basically the next time he notices lance hanging around the hall, he brings shiro with him and starts talking about how amazing lance is and makes sure he hears him
  • lance being aware!!! of the effect his flirting has on keith to the point he flirts with him pratically everyday and keith doesn’t know if he can’t handle it and shiro has to listen to every of his love problems
  • keith being able to recognize lance’s smell. i assume he likes to put cologne and smell nice, so keith’s pining ass would probably recognize his scent even a mile away. “still no news on lance?” “he’s coming back. i can smell his perfume” “how the hell do you know that” “….. it’s a … galra thing” (it’s not)
  • keith dragging lance along his plan to help shiro and allura get together but in the process they manage to resolve their own feelings
  • once in an established relationship, i want them not only to be a power couple, but to be so proud of it they actually brag about it with the enemies they meet
  • lance coming up with the most silliest pick up lines just to make keith laugh: “are you a tv? because i would watch you all day” “lance please” “only the best pick up lines for the best boyfriend” “i’m pretty sure you’re talking about yourself then” hashtag plan backfired
  • keith struggling about finding lance a gift once he knows his bday is coming up, so he goes on a solo mission to try and find a planet that has nice flowers in it. but he doesn’t have the courage to give the bouquet to him, so he writes him a card and leaves them in front of his room’s door. “most beautiful flowers for the most beautiful boy i know” keith thinks he’s slick because lance doesn’t know his handwriting, but he actually does, so the next day lance puts a card under his door that said “thank you -L” and keith falls on the floor
  • lance was very popular in class back at the garrison because of his friendly personality and keith tells that to him one day and how much he actually wanted to be his friend and lance is like “you know….there was this guy at the garrison, he was good at many things, except talking to people. but…. i liked him anyway”
  • keith saying that he doesn’t smile often and lance retorting “you’re not that grumpy i’ve seen you smile” “what do you mean” “You know….that smile you do when your eyes are shining…. like y’all have seen right” shiro: lance i’m pretty sure you’re either imagining it or he smiles like that just at you. cue a very flustered lance leaving the room
  •  this is super overused but i love the idea of keith telling lance “I’ve already lost Shiro I can’t lose you too” and then hugging him
  • “are you a tree? because i pine for you” “lance why are you practising your pick up lines with me” “Ha..ha….of course….just…practising.”
  • if lance can surf i really want to see him teaching keith how to please beach episode i need you
  • blatant flirting!!!! without realizing that it’s flirting!!! which is basically what they do in canon but you know….basically a “everybody can tell except them” kind of situation
  • cheek kisses, because i live for them, even better if it’s something done on impulse and unexpected
  • keith watching lance proudly doing something and accidentally slipping “that’s my lance” out loud. shiro: i didn’t know you two were dating? keith: i left the stove open i gotta go
  • keith and lance have never actually referred to each other as friends and i want that this is not a romantic thing but i just need to hear them saying “he’s my friend” ya feel
  • lance meeting a very awake keith in the middle of the night and asking him what’s wrong. “trouble sleeping?” “yeah” “is it because you’ve been thinking about me? :3″ “GOODNIGHT LANCE”

ok i hope i satisfied you enough lol <3

anonymous asked:

What if Stiles and Derek's first kiss is post-nogitsune? Would he feel like a thief? Would he mourn the body that Derek never held? Would each brush of fingertips or kiss to his temple be a betrayal? They'd probably talk about the scars too. Derek would understand-- to an extent. But he grew up not without his history on his skin so he'll never understand how it feels to have that ripped away.

Their lips brush and Stiles turns away a second later, breaths shallow, hands twitching against the folds of Derek’s shirt. There’s warm breath on his cheek, the ghost of beard still so close and all Stiles can think is that he wants this. He wants this. And…

It’s wrong.

Those fingers, twitching against Derek’s shirt, smooth and uncalloused. The scar that used to live above his third knuckle just a burn-hot memory in his mind.

Everything still feels off in his body, out of balance, and he remembers the way Derek used to look at him. All tension and frustration in ways he couldn’t start to make sense of. And now Derek’s lips are in reach, a short turn away, and he’s murmuring out “Stiles…?” and all Stiles can think is…

“Do you want me?”

He can feel the stall in Derek’s thoughts like a physical reaction, and he wonders if there was a subtle tell or if… if he’d just felt it, inside, the confusion a flicker of chaos in Derek’s chest. Can he do that? Feel chaos? The Nogitsune drank it in and Stiles…

“Stiles,” Derek breathes again, a quirk of amusement in his tone. Thumbs smooth down his hips and Stiles fights the urge to rise into the contact. “Thought I’d just answered that question.”

And Stiles could leave it at that, asked and answered. Except…

There should be a scar on his hip, long and thin, from a fence he’d scaled once and dropped down five times faster. Derek should be feeling that right now, that piece of Stiles’ history, that stupid ten year old adventure laid out across his skin. But the skin’s smooth. Blank slate.

He shivers, gripping tighter into Derek’s shirt.

“No, I––” He can’t think of how to explain it. The thoughts are a choked feeling in his throat, a twist in his gut. Something like guilt and fear and he doesn’t even know what answer he wants when he leans back enough to find Derek’s eyes and say: “Since when? Did you… I mean, before…”

He’s not sure Derek knows what he means, but there’s a hint of flush under that dark beard suddenly, and Stiles gets a little bit lost in the contrast.

“Last summer.”

“Last––?” It pulls Stiles back, his eyes startling up. That was… most of a year, that was before…

A sick lurch sets him falling back out of Derek’s grip. Too-smooth fingers (uncalloused) slip too easy from Derek’s chest. His sneaker-covered feet might as well be walking over glass and he’s being dramatic except that he’s really not. Because if Derek wanted him last summer…

“That wasn’t me.” It sounds wrong as he says it, stupid, because… he was there that summer. He remembers every moment spent with Derek, researching the Alphas, searching for hints of Boyd and Erica. Charged smirks and snark and quiet moments that felt more comfortable than they should. He remembers the moments before summer too, when the thought of Derek made his heart pound and his body thrum in a way that could have only meant fear, except it hadn’t only been fear. He’d been scared of the Alpha too, and the hunters, and that coil of electric heat only sparked through his gut for Derek. He remembers that, like he remembers the scars that aren’t there anymore, and he can’t help running his too-soft fingertips over the smooth flesh of his knuckle as he breathes out, faint and lost, “…Was that me?”

There’s a too long pause while the question burns back into his throat, buzzing through his limbs like a current until he realizes he’s shaking from them. Was that him? Helping Derek track the Alpha pack? Helping Scott learn to control his wolf? Sitting by his mom’s hospital bed, watching her lose the long war to her illness, pieces of her flaking away like old scars, like a whole identity, like––

A warm hand closes over his, large and gentle, grounding.

“It was you,” Derek says, simply. Like there’s no question, like nothing’s changed. Like Stiles hasn’t changed. 

But that’s wrong. He’s not the same person he was before the Nogitsune, and he’s not talking in the experiences change you, huh kind of way. He’d had scars before. He’d had… a whole life written on his skin. And then he’d crawled out from inside his possessed body’s throat, spawned out like some alien parasite or… clone and––

“My body died, back there.” Four months past, and he still can’t wrap his head around it. That he’d watched himself bitten and impaled, spasm and cracking and shatter to dust.

The scarred body. His real body.

And he was left in… this.

Long fingers uncurl, stretching out slow. Thin, pale digits fitting strangely perfect between Derek’s, and Stiles can only wonder what it would have looked like before.

“…What if I’m not real?” He watches Derek’s fingers twitch, barely perceptible, tightening like they’re fighting to hold onto him. And Derek’s lost enough in his life, too much. It’s a dick move to say this, to take anything else away from him, but… “What if the guy you wanted last summer… what if he died inside the Nogitsune, and I’m just––”

No.”

The sureness of it has Stiles’ throat clenching. He tilts his head, challenging. Finds Derek’s eyes again.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you.”

Which is just… it’s stupid how that makes Stiles’ heart jump. Flutter around like it’s fighting to leap the distance between them and plaster itself all up against Derek’s stupid, muscled, secretly sweet as hell chest.

Which… yeah, that’s nearly a gross enough visual to stomp his fondness boner in the bud. He sets his jaw.

“Did you know I used to have a scar on––”

“Your right hand? Just above the third knuckle, a burn.”

Stiles’ argument stalls out. He blinks, finger shifting to rub over the space, but Derek’s is already there, soothing the phantom mark over his skin.

“I… was eleven.” Because silence has never been safe for him. Because noise distracts from the too-easy pleasure rippling up his arm. “First time I tried cooking dinner for me and dad. Mac and cheese, it… didn’t go great.” He wets his lips. Looks away “Or… the other me did, I don’t––”

You did.” And Derek still sounds so damn sure. Stiles wants to believe him. He parts his lips, can’t. Because––

“Stiles, I’ve never had scars on my skin. I… can’t relate to what it’s like to lose them. But the things that have happened to me… they’re not any less real because I can’t see them. Every bullet, cut, punch I’ve taken…” He might sense the wince forming on Stiles’ face, and shakes his head, shrugging that off like it’s not important. But that’s an argument for another day. “Every scar life gave you… they’re still there. You’re still carrying them, inside you.” He flits his eyes down Stiles’ frame, then away, finger soothing over the ghost burn. “There are plenty no one would have ever seen anyway. But they made you. Who you are, and who you are…” He shakes his head, looks back to meet Stiles’ eyes squarely. “You recognized me when I was a teenager. That’s the same person who recognized me in the preserve.” Stiles feels his face heat because… even knowing Derek’s a werewolf now, he’d never put together that Derek would have heard his fangirl moment to Scott after Derek had walked away.

Before he can speak up, though, Derek’s going on. “You tracked me to Mexico. Faced down the Calaveras to save me. That’s the same person who stared down the Argents, drove a Jeep into a kanima, who hit an Alpha with a wooden baseball bat––”

“Two Alphas,” Stiles cuts in, because props, ok? “Two, that were…” His free hand mimes squishing, and Derek’s lips twitch.

“Two,” he agrees, and Stiles can’t not smile back. Just for a second –– fond, helpless –– then he’s ducking his head. Derek sighs, catches his chin. Guides it up until their gazes lock again.

“That was you,” he says, so firmly Stiles can’t help believing this time. “Was the man who clawed his way out of his own possession. Followed Scott’s howl back to the real world. And whatever happened to your body, whatever… magic gave you a new one, Stiles came out with it. Your scars are still there, just…” His fingers trail to Stiles’ chest, and something thumps out eagerly to meet them.

“Inside,” Stiles breathes, and the way Derek’s eyes warm makes him shiver with a proud ripple of pleasure.

“Inside,” Derek echoes. Runs a thumb light along Stiles’ lip. “You could have come out of the Nogitsune looking like anything. Wouldn’t change who you are.”

And damn, Stiles has fallen for a goddamn poet in a grumpy wolf’s body. …But then, Stiles is pretty sure he’d known that already.

His fingers go up, curl gently into Derek’s shirt.

“But… you like this body,” he prompts, and Derek gives an exasperated huff, pulling him in.

“I like this body,” he confirms, and it doesn’t feel wrong to hear that.

When Derek kisses him this time, Stiles doesn’t pull away.

Stay

“There you are, sound and safe! I mean- safe and sound.”

Ladybug released him. Adrien slipped out of her grasp, as slowly as he could. His room had never looked more like a cage, dark and imposing, silent and cold. Empty.

He turned to her with a model smile- a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes even as he regarded the love of his life, half-lit up by the moon. “Thank you, Ladybug, for everything.”

His secret partner giggled, shuffling backwards with awkward, jerky hand gestures. Adrien smiled for real then, looking away as heat flooded his face, cute.

“N-no problem!” she replied, the ghost of a frown flittering across her face. Perhaps it was the fact she’d just saved his life, or maybe it was the darkness of the room, or maybe it was the years of pining and hoping and wishing for more, but Adrien was halfway to her before he realised what he was doing. He froze, checking himself. It wasn’t his job to remove that frown. “I’m just glad you’re safe is all- even though Chat Noir wasn’t there to help…” the frown deepened.

“Ah, I’m s-sure he wanted to come!” his voice wobbled and Adrien winced, hoping he wasn’t too obvious. “He was probably caught up with something? Maybe? I mean I wouldn’t know!”

He could feel Plagg’s silent snickers from the breast pocket of his jacket. In retaliation, he peeled off the jacket and tossed it onto the sofa. If Ladybug thought it strange, she didn’t question it or mention it. He was glad for that, he’d already made a fool of himself enough for one night.

A silence nestled between them. Perhaps it was wishful thinking on his part but, as he looked back to her and caught her staring just in time before she tore her gaze away, to him it didn’t seem like an awkward one. For him at least, it was a silence laced with a prayer, a quiet plea that the space between them no longer existed.

And, as she offered him a short flick of a wave goodbye, his plea slipped from his lips before he could stop it. With gentle fingers, he grasped her wrist and stopped her before she reached for her yoyo. “Don’t leave.”

She looked to him with wide eyes, and he dropped her wrist, mortified with himself.

But god he wanted her to stay. Adrien was tired, so very tired of empty rooms and empty promises. He was tired of feeling lonely in rooms filled with strangers with plastic smiles. He didn’t want to wake up tomorrow to meet his father’s disapproving scowl, knowing he’d been caught by the paparazzi out later than he should’ve been- caught up in another ‘dangerous’ situation. It was a lecture he could really do without.

He didn’t want to be alone any more.

“Adrien?” her voice was so soft, so kind and confused, and Adrien couldn’t stand it. 

“I-” he swallowed, the bravery he’d felt was gone and the weight of his words settled into his chest. Weeds of panic sprouted in his lungs and rendered him speechless. He couldn’t look at her, embarrassed by his outburst, by his desperation.

“You want me to stay?” she whispered, and his head snapped up again, undone by the unreadable expression on her face. “Me?”

“I’d be dead without you,” Adrien replied. He took a step towards her, closing the gap. His heart was a drum. Under his father’s watchful eye, the beats were steady, predictable and controlled- but ultimately lacking life. With his friends, the beat was free and light but it was a melody rarely played these days, as his schedule grew stricter and his freedom restricted.

With Ladybug, the beat was beautiful and unpredictable. It was wild and full of passion and love, of promise and comfort. It was a story; the foundations of a symphony they’d written since they were children. But it was half complete. A beat without a melody. A band without a singer, and Adrien was done pretending he didn’t want her to be his leading lady. Reaching out, Adrien brushed his fingers against her cheek. “I’d be dead without you.”

Ladybug leaned into his touch, her hand coming up to rest on his own, and she sighed. The sound almost broke him.

Until she broke the spell, taking his hand away from her face and bringing herself closer to him. He could see the freckles on her nose.

“Well then,” she uttered, her hand splayed against his chest and she focused on that. Had she looked up, Adrien was convinced she would have figured him out- would have discovered how hopelessly in love with her he actually was. “I guess I could stay. To make sure you’re ok.”

His hands slipped around her waist slowly, scared to move too fast and ruin whatever was building between them. Had breathing always been so difficult?

“Stay,” he whispered, leaning forwards until his forehead rested on hers.

“Ok,” she complied, and it was only then that he realised her fingers were in his hair. He closed his eyes, praying it wasn’t a dream, revelling in the perfect agony of her touch.

Stay,” his throat was tight and he pulled her closer, needing her and terrified by it.

“I will,” he heard her reply and he looked at her, felt her shiver as their eyes met- knew that he was trembling too.

Adrien wasn’t sure who kissed who first. It was all a blur, a culmination of years of repressed feelings. All he knew was that his lips were on her own, that he was kissing her and she was kissing him back. All he knew was that everything he’d ever wanted was a reality.

His dreams had nothing on this. His dreams never heard the way Ladybug gasped under his loving touches. His dreams never knew the way she’d wiggle whenever he kissed her a certain way, or how she’d cradle his face in her hands like he was just as precious to her as she was to him. His dreams could never understand how, once they came true, he would crave more like the selfish man he was.

And, most importantly, his dreams never let him wake up to a promise fulfilled, and a girl with freckles and eyes as blue as the sky lying next to him, still sleeping soundly. A girl he knew very well.

“M-Marinette?”

~

Credit to @edendaphne for the prompt! ^_^ thank you for saving me from my writers block!!! <3 I love  you girl!

anonymous asked:

ok this is going to sound rude but i totally don't mean it to be, but as an asian i always get super exited when i see asian authors, so i was wondering why you chose to write a european story rather than something korean? loved it tho

Hi nonny:

I get this question a lot, so I’m going to come across as a bit short or annoyed, but it’s not about you, I promise (I don’t know you after all). 

It’s about your question.

It is a rude question, and I don’t appreciate it. Frankly, what I am and how that affects what I write is none of anyone’s business. If you want to know why I wrote Wintersong and not something Asian, I write a little about it here. And it isn’t that I don’t intend to write something Asian-inspired; I do. Why did I choose to write something European? Many things. I like Mozart. I like the German language. I like European folklore. I am pretty goth. I grew up with these things, so I know them pretty intimately. 

But I want to unpack this question a little. Why is it that women of color are expected to write or perform their own marginalizations? Do we go around asking out queer people to only write queer stories? Do we ask disabled people to only write their disability? Incidentally, I wrote my disability into Wintersong. I gave Liesl my bipolar disorder. But the praise and censure I get always stems from the most obvious marginalization I have: my face, and by extension, my ethnic background.

If you want to get into the weeds of why I didn’t write something Korean first, it’s because I’m not Korean. I am of Korean descent, yes. I am a member of the diaspora. But neither am I truly a part of the Korean-American immigrant experience. I grew up pretty privileged: my dad is white, I went to an all-girl’s private school, was part of swim and tennis clubs, etc. I had a lot of the markers of cultural whiteness, which is tied with class. My Koreanness is whitewashed, not just by my cultural privilege, but because I didn’t have access to a Korean extended family. My aunties, uncles, and cousins all live in Seoul, or some didn’t make it out of Pyongyang before the establishment of the 38th Parallel. I’ve been to Korea twice. The only Korean members of my family are my mother and my grandmother. Everyone else is white.

That cultural whiteness? It comes across to a lot of people, and it especially came across to other Koreans. There are reasons I don’t speak the language as well as I should, considering it was my milk tongue. I went to Korean school and attended Korean church for a while, but I was bullied and ostracized so badly I stopped going back when I was 9. I wasn’t bullied because my dad was white; I was bullied because I wasn’t Korean enough. I didn’t share their cultural language. I didn’t even share the same parental pressures. My mother is the one who had been pressuring me to quit my day job and become a full-time writer, not my dad. As a result, I was the outcast in every Asian group I ever tried to be a part of as a kid. Some were open about it to my face. You’re not Korean enough. Some were more insidious about it. They would deliberately choose subjects and topics about which I had no handhold, freezing me out of conversation. My friends? The theatre kids, the artist freaks, the writers. The vast majority of them? White. 

This obviously left pretty deep psychic scars. I can’t eat doughnuts, for one. They smell of Korean school and shame. But it also left me with a deep insecurity about even approaching a Korean subject in writing. Am I enough? Am I enough, am I enough, am I enough? It’s only as an adult that I’ve made Asian friends, that I’ve slowly started to find my way back to the heritage I’ve kept at arm’s length. 

I’m telling you my history, nonny, to better answer your question. But to also maybe shed a light on the effect of asking a marginalized person to perform their marginalization for you. For me, that question is fraught, and I imagine it is for a lot of other Asian writers as well. When I hear that question, all I hear is You are not enough. You are not Asian enough. You didn’t even write something Asian. You are not enough, you are not enough, you are not enough.

To be young

Title: To be young

Pairing: Reader x Peter Parker

Summary: Y/N has lived next to Peter since the 3rd grade and since has fallen hard for him, but Y/N doesn’t know he’s fallen just as hard. 

Word count: 2,145

Songs: Midnight City by M83, Uh huh by Julia Michaels

A/N: This is my first Imagine ever so I’m sorry for the grammar mistakes and if i messed up the point of view a little bit, I’m practicing and heres my first go at it! I hope you guys enjoy it! Also its not a concrete idea yet but i might make more parts to this 



  “Hey, MJ does Peter ever talk about me?” you ask staring across the lunch room at the boy you’ve had a crush on ever since you laid eyes on him in the 3rd grade. You hear Michelle sigh and close her book “Y/N just go over there and talk to him.” your eyes widen at your best friend for suggesting such a thing. “I can’t just go over there and talk to him without cause, plus..” you sigh sinking further into your seat at the lunch table “he likes Liz, remember?” Just before Michelle can get a word in about your lack of confidence towards guys, the bell rings signaling the end of lunch and beginning of the five minuet passing period to the next class.

You quickly gather your things heading out of the lunchroom and to your next class, gym.

“Hey, Y/N wait up!” you hear the familiar voice of Liz speak as everyone makes their way out of the locker rooms and into the main gym. You falter in your walk just a little hearing Liz say your name, you haven’t ever really been friends or even acquaintances with her since knowing that Peter has a crush on the girl. “Yes?” you smile as she slows her pace next to you “I’m having a party tomorrow night at my place, do you wanna come?” your mind goes blank for a minuet, Liz is asking me to her party? what? “I already asked Michelle if she could come and she said you were free so i thought i’d ask.” Liz practically read your mind, so Michelle is to blame, she’s gonna pay. “Yea, sure I’ll come, it sounds fun.” She smiles before she runs off ahead of you. “Hey Flash,” You hear her shout before she vanishes into the crowd of teenagers.

“Alright, well i think he’s a war criminal now but these are state required so lets get to work .” The gym teacher spoke after the video of Captain America ended waving his hand for everyone to get down from the bleachers and take their places on the mats.

You finally spot Michelle in the crowd of teenagers and grabbed ahold of her arm before she could lay on a mat. “Hey could we be partners?” You ask letting go of your bestie laying on the mat, “Mind if we take this mat next to you guys?” A voice that made your heartstrings tingle spoke, you quickly turn your head to see Peter laying down and getting ready to go his first sit-up. “No-not at all.” you blush and turn on your other side to come face to face with a book “Michelle” You groan louder than intended, “We’re suppose to be doing sit-ups.” You grab the book tilting it away from her face, Michelle sighs and turns on her back pushing her book up and down from her face “There happy, I’m exercising now.” She mumbled making you laugh slightly.

“Hey what about Spider-Man?” You sit up and whip your head around to the bleachers where a certain group of popular girls were sitting, “What about him Liz? You got a crush?” a friend of hers teased, “Well I mean yes he’s pretty hot but he’s also a hero you can’t leave him out.” You could see a slight pink shade her cheeks after she spoke.

“Hey, uh Peter knows Spider-Man!” Ned practically yelled from the mat next to you, what? how does Peter know Spider-Man? I mean maybe he got saved by him? But what? You were pulled from your thoughts when Peter spoke, “Well Uh  we-wel yes i do, because of the Stark internship i have but i’m not suppose to talk about it.” Peter spoke through gritted teeth when he ended his sentence. “Wait Penis Parker knows Spider-Man? And has a Stark internship? Wow this is too good, what other lies ya got?” Flash finally joined the conversation. You sighed and turned your attention back to laying down and staring at the ceiling till the end of the period.

“Well if you know him so well why don’t you invite him to Liz’s party tomorrow night?” Flash asked sarcasm clear in his voice, “Wait-wait Liz is having a party?” You perked up again at the sound of Peter’s slightly hurt voice. “Yeah, tomorrow night, my parents are out of town, you and Ned are more than welcome to come and you don’t gotta bring Spider-Man.” You could practically hear the smile in Peters voice when he replied “No-No yeah I’d love to come.” You rolled your eyes and tried to drown out the rest of the conversation.

“Okay, see ya tomorrow.” Liz spoke before the bell rang, finally. You make your way back to the locker room and change out of the gym uniform and into your regular clothes.

Well tomorrow night should be interesting, I wonder if Peter really knows Spider-Man you smile at the thought, that’d be fucking awesome.

Michelle and you took the bus together after school planning on having a sleepover and carpooling to Liz’s party the next day. “I can’t believe you already said i would go without asking me.” you lightly punch Michelle on the arm while getting ready for bed. “Hey what better things do you have going on tomorrow, staring at peter though the peep hole of your apartment again?” Michelle teased, you gasped and placed your hand on your heart pretending to be hurt by the comment. “Michelle that is an important activity and I cannot miss it.” You dramatically said and plopped down onto your bed for the night, the couch. Michelle and you always sleep on her couch for sleepovers, its big enough and comfy as hell.

“Oh whatever Y/N.” she groaned taking her place on the couch and turning on the tv. Within minuets your eyes start to get heavy, you finally give into the sleep tugging at you and fall asleep.


“Thanks for the ride!” you shout at Michelle’s dad before Michelle slams the car door shut. MJ and you start towards the front door already hearing the loud music coming from inside. “Michelle are you sure about this?” You ask grabbing her arm forcing her to stop and look at you “Look Y/N, when are you ever gonna do something like this ever again. Plus, its all apart of the high school experience.” She shrugged making her way to the front door and inside with you trailing behind her.

You were immediately greeted by Liz and shown the way to the kitchen “incase you need something to drink” Liz told you leaving you and focused her attention back onto the party. “Ok so now I Just wait for something to happen?” you spoke to yourself as you grabbed a red solo cup and filled it with water from the fridge. You made your way out of the kitchen and to the couch in the living room, where did MJ go? I’m like the only other person besides Liz she knows here so where - your thoughts were interrupted when your eyes met with the chocolatey eyes of the boy you’ve been waiting for all night.

You smile towards Peter earning a grin back from him before his attention was sent somewhere else, probably Flash shouting “wheres your friend Spider-man? I don’t see him..” You rolled your eyes and made your way over to the duo standing in the middle of the hallway, “Hey hey guys,” you nervously spoke “Finally made it.” you smiled over at Ned, his attention on the rest of the party and not you. “Yeah we got-” Peter got interrupted by a shout from the family room “If you wanna play a game come to the family room now!” you felt a hand wrap around your arm before you could protest you were in the family room seated next to Liz, Peter diagonally across from you with ned next to him and Michelle on your other side.

“Alright,” you heard Liz speak next to you “what game should we play.” a couple of hands flew up in the air and some people shouted suggestions. “How about Seven Minuets In Heaven?!” one voice shouted louder than the others, you looked over at Liz to see she was already ginning with a bottle being handed to her. “Seven Minuets In Heaven it is.” She quickly snapped her head over at you “Y/N, you spin first.” she shoved the bottle into your hand.

“No-no I’m really fine-” you didnt get to finish when you felt a sharp pain in your side from Michelle, your head spun to her side giving her a “what the hell!” look and receiving a shrug in response. You sucked in a breath, all apart of the high school experience right? you tried to reason with yourself. You put the bottle on its side on the ground and spun it, your heat begins beating faster and faster as it comes to a slow down. The bottle finally comes to a stop and your eyes rake up to where it landed, Peter Parker.

You gulped waiting for his reaction as people around him whopped for him but he just sat there eyes wide. “come one you too!” Liz sounded so gleeful and lightly shoved my shoulder for me to get up. Peter must’ve took that as a hint as well and stood up “Wher-uh What closet should we go to?” Peter asked clearing his voice. “the one right at the top of the stairs, we’ll make sure no one goes in.” Liz smiled at Peter and you while you made your way up the stairs. Oh god, what am i going to do, what if he doesn’t want to do anything with me? what if he kisses me and I’m not a good kisser or my breathe stinks- you were ripped out of your thoughts as the closet door was closed and Peter and you were left in the dark.

“uh we-we don’t have to do anything.” you whispered barely audible as you watched Peter set a timer on his phone for seven minuets. “Wh-why don’t we ask each other questions?” Peter asked making a blush creep onto your face, thank god this closet is dark and peters phone light is horrible. “sure-e” you nervously stutter, “you first.” you poke his chest earning a small laugh from him. “Okay, is it true that you have a 4.0 grade average?” You couldn’t help the laugh that  escaped your lips, “What?” Peter asked you could hear the confusion in his voice, “thats the question you wanna ask?” you placed your hand on Peters arm, what am I doing? I’m movign way too fast, “Is that bad?” Peter moved closer to you making you back up into the wall of the closet, your smile fading and a deeper bush replacing it. “uh-no no, I’d just rather not answer it.” You spoke truthfully, “alright,” you could see the smile form on peters face as he inched closer to you.

“your turn.” he whispered making your breath hitch in your throat, he’s so close, if i just move forward slightly i’d finally have my first kiss and with the guy of my dreams, you thought. “you got a question yet?” Peters smile started fading looking into your eyes, “uh- yes, did you really make your own computer?” your eyes scanned peters, he’s so close you can see his beautiful brown ombre iris’s, dark brown to a slightly lighter brown. Your breath hitched in your throat again as Peter flashed his eyes down to your lips for a split second. You start to lean into him, closer and closer to his face when your lips just barely graze each other and then Peters phone goes off.

He jumped back slightly from the sudden noise and looked down at his phone, “Has it already been seven minuets?” You laugh slightly feeling embarrassed for getting so intimate with Peter. “No..” he paused looking up from his phone and into your eyes “But i gotta, I’m really sorry Y/N, I gotta go.” He shook his head slightly before opening the closet and leaving you behind. you stood there shocked, not able to move. Peter and I almost kissed was all you could think as a deep blush crept back onto your face.

You exited the closet and went to see if you could find him at the party anywhere. you got a few weird looks after asking some people if they saw him anywhere but no one could help, not even Ned knew where Peter went.

“Well it’s too bad, we didn’t even get to see his ‘friend’ Spider-Man.” Flash spoke sarcastically to you, you just turned around to go look for MJ and tell her about what had happened, how you almost kissed your life long crush and how he almost kissed you back.

Broke My Dream

Characters: Sam x Reader

Word count: 4442 - sorry not sorry blame @a-sea-of-fandoms

Warnings: fluffy fluff, smutty smut, a bit of angst if you squint

A/N: Anon Requested: “Can you write one about Sam x reader. Reader is shy quiet bookworm who is in love with Sam. She knows he would never feel the same way. So she fantasizes about him seducing her. Then it really happens. Thank you” Hope this is OK!

You couldn’t focus on the book in front of you. The bunker was quiet enough, the light warm enough, your legs comfortably resting over the arm of the armchair you were laid in, but you just couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was an uncharacteristically quiet day, and it was supposed to be the day you finished this book you’d been trying to finish for weeks. But every time the main character was mentioned, your mind wandered and you thought back to the tall, long haired, broad shouldered man you knew in real life. You weren’t even halfway through this thing, but you wouldn’t give up on it. You’d never given up halfway through a book and you didn’t plan on starting now.

Clearing your throat, you tried to refocus.

You felt your eyes growing heavy and before you knew it you were drifting off to sleep, your head resting on the other arm of the chair, the book still open and perched against your thighs. You felt yourself smile as you saw Sam move towards you, his hand coming up to hold your face before he crashed his lips to yours. You were suddenly against a wall, his hands on your waist holding you in place as he deepened the kiss. You gripped the fabric of his shirt as he let his hands wander down, his lips moving to suck a mark under your ear.

A moan rumbled past your lips as you felt his fingers slip under the top of your jeans and you suddenly started awake.

You jumped up, sitting up in the chair, realising you’d fallen asleep and were having one of your not-so-infrequent fantasies about the younger Winchester. It had been a long couple of weeks and sleep had been severely lacking for all of you as you worked the case.

“Dude you were out,” you heard Dean’s voice and laughed. “And making some serious happy noises,” he winked, and you instantly cringed, your cheeks flushing pink.

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Thanks for the massage bruh!

This happened couple years ago. Long story, TL:DR at the end.

I was a student and i was working shit tons to be able to pay for my school. I was driving a cab or a limo at nights so I usually would skip classes except exams or finals. It was one of days that i had to be in school for a final exam. This exam would determine if i need to go another semester or not.

I borrowed my friends car that day. I was kinda hungry. After a quick drive thru, i grabbed some burger king. We hit a red light. I knew it was a long one. I pulled out fries, opened a ranch sauce and i was enjoying the fuck out of them fresh fries. Until i look at the rear view mirror. I was the very first car at the lights, in a super busy street. I saw a buick in the mirror, coming at me really fast. I totally knew that he/she wouldn’t be able to stop. I put it on park, pushed the hand brake (i’m still holding the ranch sauce.)and stepped on the brake so she won’t hit and push me to the crossing street. Sure enough she hit the brakes, her car slided and rear ended me. It was a noisy hit but i knew it wouldn’t damage the car too bad. Being a driver gives you that experience. It was the 4th time i was rear ended that year. Big city traffic. Smh.

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anonymous asked:

Marichat "don't be fucking rude" prompt (your writing is great btw)

Thank you anon! I am glad you like my writing ^_^ (I should be writing more stories, but I am sniffly and finding doing long form hard so i am taking a break by doing drabbles. Hopefully it will clear my head enough to finish the chapter I wanted to get done today!) 


WARNING: Some strong language and suggestive themes! You have been warned.


“What are you staring at?” Marinette cried at last, whirling in her chair to face Chat Noir who was mere inches from her face. 

“hold still, I am trying to count your freckles,” he said completely unperturbed by either her close proximity or her glowering expression. 

“Have you ever heard of personal space?” she hissed, “Don’t be fucking rude!” 

Chat blinked but showed no other sign of being deterred by her wrath. “I can’t count your freckles accurately from across the room, now hold still.” 

Marinette groaned but did as he asked, figuring it was easier to just indulge his insanity and get him out of the way then try to argue with him. She had no idea what had lead to Chat Noir’s bizarre visit today, or his sudden unprecedented interest in her life, if his non-stop questions earlier were anything to go by. 

“Are you almost done,” she whined, trying not to think about why she was finding his closeness so unsettling. 

“Just about,” he grinned, and her heart gave a traitorous little thrill. He really was unfairly pretty. 

“You have 27 freckles across your nose,” Chat said leaning in even further until their noses bumped. “And just for the record princess,” he said his voice dropping to a sultry whisper, “I am not fucking rude. When I am fucking I am extremely accommodating,” and before she could move he darted forward, kissed the tip of her nose and hurriedly ran away, laughing. 

The next morning Marinette trudged blearily into class. Her night had been restless, in no small part to the flurry of daydreams brought on by Chat’s parting comment. Even her icy cold shower this morning had done little to stop her wandering mind or flushed skin. 

“Good morning my bestest best friend who I know far better than Adrien know’s Nino!” Alya crowed as she dropped down into her own seat. 

“Are you two still going on about that?” Marinette sighed, dropping her head against the desk and wondering if she could try sleeping through class, or if she ran the risk of subjecting herself to another Chat-infused dream session. 

“This is the last day of our epic battle,” Alya said with feigned shock at Marinette’s disinterest. “I am going to 50 Euro richer before class even starts. Where do you want to go for lunch?” 

“What if Adrien wins?” Marinette ask, cracking one eye open and looking up at her friend.

“Eh, he gets to pick my next 3 articles on the Ladyblog. But there is no way he is going to win. He would have to get my question right- doubtful- AND I would have to get his wrong, and there is no way Adrien knows anything about you that I don’t already know.”

“OK,” Marinette mumbled. Closing her eyes again. 

“Ah the man of the hour and his supposedly hertosexual life mate,” Alya cried. 

“We like to keep our love free from the tabloids thank you,” Marinette heard Nino say and Adrien let out a light laugh.  

“OK Agreste,” Alya said, “my final question, to see if you know my boyfriend as well as I do-”

“He does, you’re gonna lose babe.” 

“Shut up honey.” 

“Just giving you a head’s up.” 

“What,” Alya continued, “Is Nino’s favorite childhood ice cream flavor?” 

“Trick question- Nino didn’t have Ice cream till you took him to get some on your guys second date.” 

“Damnit! Still, you haven’t proven that you are the most observant person in this little circle, you still haven’t given me my question. Despite your impressive line of questioning thus far, I defy you to come up with something about Marinette that you know and I don’t.” 

Marinette was glad her face was plastered against the side of her desk to hide her flaming face. 

“OK,” Adrien said mischievously, “how many freckles does Marinette have across her nose?” 

Marinette’s eye shot open. 

“You don’t know the answer to that,” Alya said warily. 

“Just answer the question,” Adrien said smugly, “or do you admit defeat?” 

“19,” Alya said nervously. 

“Wrong, 27. Looks like I win.” 

Whatever response Alya was about to give was cut off by Marinette’s loud, piercing scream. 


Four Sentence Prompts: 

Warning- I will NOT be taking repeat prompts! Only one drabble per prompt! (See the list here: http://baneismydragon.tumblr.com/post/159474846531/reposting-so-i-can-edit )