this is probably worded terribly someone make a better post than this for me please

Lights, Camera, Action! (M)

word count: 4.7k

genre: smut; movie star AU + actor!hoseok

pairing: reader/hoseok

summary: you were just a small town actress who’d been picked up for a big movie starring you and award winning actor shin hoseok. turns out, there’s quite a steamy scene that you two must take part in and you’re more than nervous about it. luckily, hoseok is a professional and he isn’t afraid to help you out.

dedicated to: my valentine, @wonholypeach​ who isn’t feeling well after her surgery and needed a pick-me-up. enjoy and please get well soon love!  ♡

a/n: just a disclaimer i did minimal research on actual movie sex scenes & have very limited knowledge on this so this is definitely not realistic.


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Little witch (Part 5)

Pairings: Peter x reader

Word count: 2569

Summary: The reader is raised by Hydra but manages to escape after they kill her parents. She is emotionally unstable and can’t control her powers. The Avengers rescue her and give her everything she missed form life and wanted to feel. But would her new found love be enough to extinguish her desire for revenge? What would be the side she would choose to rely on? Will she be ready to face the real her?

A/N: I am so sorry i am posting this so late. My apologizes for the mistakes you will probably find ♥ It’s my final week of school so i hope you understand why i am posting it so late and why your requests are taking so much time. Please tell me what your opinion about the story. And i am really interested what you think would happen. Please share it with me :3 Enjoy! 

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Originally posted by kiingholland

“Up, down, backwards, kick. Again! Try to attack the unprotected zones! Good, now jump, kick, that’s right. Now-”, Steve’s commands were interrupted by the loud sound of someone being thrown badly on the floor.


“Are you okay?”, Steve asked the victim but didn’t give it a try to cover his smile.

“Yes, Captain. I am fine.”, Peter rose his thumbs and tried to stand up.

“I am sorry Pete but you weren’t paying enough attention. And I really wanted to punch you.”, (Y/N) stated as she gave a hand to Peter in order to help him to get on his feet.

“You are getting your ass beaten up by a girl. What a shame boy!”, Tony exclaimed. He had entered the training hall seconds before seeing how the little witch knocked down the spider-boy.

“You are a great fighter and I have no idea if I should be happy about it or not.”, the captain was observing (Y/N)’s technique since they began training. For a period of two weeks it was hard for him to predict what she was going to do. He had talked with Natasha after seeing how the girl beaten up the famous Black Widow but Nat was amazed by her movements as Steve, “Hydra had achieved their goals. You are better than Nat. Well, not as they probably wanted, but still.”

Hearing the name of the organization that took everything away from her, she almost fell again in the deep. Different feelings were surging in her. The girl clenched fists, took a deep breath and relaxed. After a month of training with Bruce and Wanda she was able to control her powers somehow. She was thought how to use her rage without letting it to overwhelm her body, mind, actions.

“What do you mean? She is amazing with cold weapons, Rogers.”, Tony exclaimed and walked down to them, “Let’s call her The Slicer!”, the man was too enthusiastic for the others to take him seriously.

“The Slicer? What a terrible name.”

“Take your word back captain or a new Civil War will erupt.”

“I like it. It makes me look dangerous.”

“You are a dangerous woman but I think it’s not for you.”, Peter expressed his opinion, “It’s for a coldhearted killer, while you are…”

“What am I Pete?”, (Y/N) came closer to the boy smirking and waited for his answer. She didn’t miss to spot the way he gulped nervously and rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand, “You are emitting nervousness. Why?”, the witch asked in a sweet and yet flirtatious voice, “Is it because of me?”

“I-um.”, another gulp, “No, yes, I mean…Argh!”, the boy covered his face and whispered something like ‘How can you be so desperately stupid?’

“Wait, why are you here?”, Steve suddenly asked Tony.

“Maybe because this building is all mine and I want to roam through it.”

The girl laughed, Steve gave an eye roll while Peter relaxed when the subject was changed and it took (Y/N)’s attention.

“Okay, okay. Stop that look! It makes me want to punch you in your perfect face.”. Tony stated and then continued, “I and Thor decided to throw a party so be ready in eight.”

“What?! A party ?! Why?”, Peter asked all of a sudden.

“Because my little kid you need to know how to have fun in your life. It’s not only the thick books you stuck your nose into.”, and with that the famous genius, billionaire, playboy and philanthropist man exited the room.

“Well we have like 5 hours until the party. Let’s continue working.”, (Y/N) suggested. It was her way to reduce the feelings inside her.  They were all going out and in the end of the exercises she felt much relaxed and calmed although her body was a little exhausted.

“Oh you continue. I am worn out so I will take a rest.”

“I thought you were a durable boy, Parker.”, the girl smirked as she saw the boy turning around immediately.

“I am!”

“But you got exhausted just from some slight punches.”, the witch came closer to the boy not breaking eye contact again.

“I might be not showing my full potential only because I don’t want to hurt you.”, at this time the teenagers were both smirking while Steve was looking with interest what was about to happen.

“Don’t spare me Spider-boy. Show me your super strength and you’ll see I can bear it.”

“If you are asking so politely. But don’t you dare complain after that your body is aching.”

“Oh, the sexual tense between the two of you has filled the whole room.”, Nat spoken. The witch and the spider-boy separated from each other looking away, “Don’t act as though you were shy. If it wasn’t in the training room someone would think you were about to break the bed.”

“Will you guys stop interrupting our training!?”, the girl asked in annoyance. The Avengers kept coming and if another one had showed up he could had possibly ended in the medical wing.

“Yeah, if you were actually training.”, (Y/N) gave the redhead an eye roll and waited for her answer. For one month she got used to all the teasing and jokes the heroes like to share between them, “You must spent less time with Wanda and Stark. However, I am here for the party. I assume Tony have told you so. Would you like to go with Wanda to buy a dress or something?”

“Shopping isn’t my thing and Will. Never. Be.”

“You were my only hope. Now I have to go to the shops.”, agent Romanoff looked like a small child whose mother just had told him she would not by him the toy he wanted.

“Sorry Nat. Oh, if you like something could you take it for me?”

“Yes, but you will owe me!”, Nat declared as she exited the room.

“That was a big mistake, (Y/N).”, the teenagers’ trainer for today stated out loud, “Anyone who have owed her something hasn’t ended good.”

“I will find a way to trick her.”, the girl gave a smile to the captain and the three of them continued working out. (Y/N) was without a doubt the best of them all, even the captain, but Peter managed to beat her five times which was a great success.

“Don’t hurt them!”, she screamed, “Mummy! Daddy! I am here! We will get out of here!”

“They can’t hear you.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Show me your powers. Revile them!”

“I-I can’t! Don’t you understand, I CAN’T!”, she shouted, tears rolling down her face. She didn’t want to lose them, not now.

“You don’t give us another option. Enjoy the show.”

Screams filled the room but this time an explosion didn’t happen. Instead the girl stayed in the room looking at her dead parents on the floor.

‘It’s your fault! It’s your fault! IT’S YOUR FAULT!’, the voices filled the small place she was locked into. They were shouting and screaming in agony.

“Please stop! Stop! I did what I could to save you!”, but with each word spoken the voices became louder and louder deadening the girl’s obeys,

“IT IS YOUR FAULT WE ARE DEAD!”, her parents’ voices kept screaming and filling the room while the girl crouched in the corner of the room whispering:

“Sorry, sorry, sorry! I did all I could”


(Y/N) woke up from her nightmare breathing heavily. Since day one she kept dreaming the same thing every night. This time it wasn’t different. She continues seeing her parents dying and blaming her for it. At first she started believing them but after Wanda had seen her dream by accident everything changed. (Y/N) did her best to believe Wanda’s words that she wasn’t guilty, that Hydra had manipulated her in order to get what they wanted but something deep inside her was still feeling it was her fault. She had to be better and they could have lived till today.

The witch looked at the clock next to her bed. It was 6:30pm. She had an hour and half until the party. She stood up and went straight to the bathroom. The water was hot, slightly burning her skin but the girl didn’t minded. She liked it, the mist that caused her to breathe hard, the water that relaxed her body. (Y/N) wanted to stay there longer and to wash all the stress away but the time was flying. After brushing her teeth and putting underwear on she went back to her room. As she entered it someone did the same from the other door. With no surprise, it was Peter.

“(Y/N) are you- Oh mu gosh!”, as he entered in a hurry he fastened to spin around.

“Tell me, Parker…are your spider senses telling you when I am half or fully naked so you can enter in that moment?

“This time I knocked!”, the boy tried to protect himself, “You didn’t answer so I decided to check out what is going on.”

“Only to be sure I am okay?”

“I know it sounds stupid but I care about you and-”, and all of a sudden he shut up with eyes wide opened. (Y/N) blushed at his words but tried to cover it so he would not see it.

“I am flattered you wanna make sure I’m alright but I can handle myself, Parker.”, the girl gave Peter a smile.

“Yeah, okay, I will leave now.”

“No, wait!”

“What?”, the boy was surprised (Y/N) didn’t want him to leave after he saw her half naked for one god knew what time in a roll.

“I have problems with what to wear tonight. Would you stay and help me choose?”

This time both blushed and smiled. Peter accepted and closed the door. He sat on the bed looking at the beautiful girl in front of him. He scanned her body with only one look and gulped in nervousness. She was gorgeous and not only because of her appearance. The girl was a complex character. Once she was confident and sarcastic, other times shy and insecure, on training she was like a killing machine when training with Steve. At those times she scared him but he knew that she was just a broken porcelain doll that would never be repaired and look the same as before. But Peter wanted to be the strength holding all the pieces together. The one being her anchor, to help her get through all of this and to show she wasn’t alone. There was a person that cared and he wanted the girl to understand it. Peter wished to show her all the things she missed – the happiness, the games everyone plays as s child, the feelings of having a first love and the butterflies you feel in your stomach when you kiss, the moments when you cry from joy, laughing, bliss. He wanted not only to make her feel the good part of life but to feel all the things with her. The boy wanted to make this girl happy and to be the reason she was smiling. And when she smiled form heart at his jokes or stupidity he smiled too.  

On the other hand, as the boy was looking at (Y/N) with something like love she felt insecure. When he had entered the room she spoke from annoyance but now she finally understood she was just in her underwear in front of a boy she asked to stay and help her. The girl bit her lip and turned around facing the wardrobe. She opened it and hurried to take the first clothes that she saw. It happened to be simply jeans and tank top.

“Well, you look beautiful in them I have seen but they are too ordinary for the event.”

“What about this one?”, (Y/N) showed the boy a black skirt

“It might work but what would you put on top?”

The witch grabbed almost all of the clothes that were in the wardrobe and began dressing. Peter rejected the combinations thinking it wasn’t for the situation or that the clothes weren’t fitting right.

“It’s 7:45 and I still have no idea what to put on me!”, (Y/N) sat next to the boy and was about to cry. He tried to calm her down but no boy knows the feeling of having a full wardrobe and no clothes to wear. It was despairing. As Pete was about to say something someone knocked on the door. (Y/N) stood up and went to open it. There was Wanda holding three bags in her hands.

“This is for you. I am sorry I am bringing them so late but put them on and come downstairs with Peter. Don’t be late!”

(Y/N) was surprised when Wanda mentioned Peter but it was probably one of her powers that showed her the teenagers were both in the room.

The girl opened the bags. In the first one she found just the perfect outfit, in the second she found some jewelry and in the third one there was a suit for Peter.

“This one is for you.”, (Y/N) handed the boy his outfit.

“What? Really? Why would they buy a suit for me?”

“I don’t care. Go to the bathroom and put it on. I want to see in something different than jeans ash shirt or your spider suit.”

“Okay, okay. I am going! No need to rush me.”, the boy smiled as he entered the bathroom where he began changing. (Y/N) hurried to change too although she had nothing to be ashamed of. She spent an hour half naked in front of Peter…why was she now feeling insecure? However the girl put the clothes on and looked at the mirror. She was wearing a black tight skirt that ended some centimeters above her knees. The top was short, simple and shower the upper part of her stomach. The way it outlined her curves made the girl look at herself from another angle. For the first time in her life she felt beautiful just because of some clothes. As she finished putting the necklace on, Peter came in the room in his suit. He was trying to put his tie on but with no result.  

“Will you help me?”, Peter asked innocently.

“Yeah.”, (Y/N) murmured after some seconds as she took some time to observe him, “But I don’t think it is necessary.”, as she came closer she took the tie away and removed the black top of the suit. Now he was standing only in his trousers and white shirt that had the top buttons undone.

“You look hot.” , they both looked at each other with wide eyes. Thanks God, she said only this not how she wanted to kiss him right now and bury her hands in his messy hair.

“Thanks.”, Peter smirked as he took his time to observe the girl in front of him, “But I am afraid you are overshadowing me. You are just stunning in this outfit.”, the girl smiled brightly and looked at Peter who was grinning too, “Shall we?”, her offered his hand.

“Let’s go to the party.”, the witch took his hand and they both went downstairs where they could hear the loud music and people talking.

Part 6

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Pep Talk

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam

Word Count: 1,647

Warnings: I don’t think there is any… Just fluff

Summary: You always practice what you want to say to Dean in front of your mirror. You want to tell your feelings about him to him but you always chicken out. What happens when he overhears you? 

Author’s Note: So, I have decided that for my Series Rewrite, I will post multiple parts of the same episode since they are a bit lengthy. I will add each part each hour until the end. So between 10am-2pm tomorrow, I will post the first part of the first episode. Then an hour later, I will post the second part to the first episode and so on so forth until the episode is over. 

Today, I won’t be posting any background stories because the first episode doesn’t need one. But for next week, it will have one. 

As Always, please, send in requests because I love reading them and I love writing them! If you would like to be tagged in my future fics and my Series Rewrite that is coming tomorrow, let me know and I’ll add you!

Feedback is always appreciated

Tags at the bottom

Originally posted by frozen-delight

“It’s okay, Y/N, you got this. You’ve only been living with the man for 8 years now. It’s not like you haven’t imagined how this goes. He’ll like you back. He flirts with you all the damn time.” You muttered, pacing in front of your mirror.

You’ve lived with the Winchesters for a long time now and you’ve fallen in love with the older Winchester. Of course, Sam figured it out right away but not Dean. He’s been oblivious and every year, you gave yourself a pep talk to woman up and tell him how you feel.

You would do this in front of your mirror and you would get to say everything you were feeling but when you saw Dean, you bailed on the plan and pretended everything was fine when it wasn’t. You’ve even practiced on Sam and he was always there to encourage you.

But again, you deflated whenever you saw Dean. He was your biggest weakness and your greatest strength. You’ve always hunted well with him but you were always used as bait for him. You hated dancing around this subject but you could never find the courage to say what you had to say.

“Dean Winchester, I am in love with you. No, Y/N, that’ll scare him off. Ease into it. Okay, Dean Winchester, I’ve known you for 8 years and in that span of time, I have fallen for you. No, that sounded cringy. Just say what’s in your heart.” You said to yourself, stopping in front of your mirror, staring at yourself.

“Dean Winchester, you’re my best friend and I don’t know what I would do without you. I hunt better when you’re next to me, I’m a better person when you support me. You make me better. I hope I do the same to you because I’m in love with you. Yes, I am in love with the way your beautiful green eyes sparkle when you talk about something you love.

“I am in love with your scent. I can’t get enough of that leather, motor oil, whiskey, and gun powder smell. I love wearing your shirts because they smell like you and they make me feel safe. You make me feel safe. I love the way you care for your friends and family.

“You have such a big heart and I love you for that. I love your body. I love the way you laugh. I love your voice. I love the crinkles you get by your eyes when you smile. You age like fine wine. I love how much you care about me and Sam. I love that you put everyone first.

“You think so low of yourself but you’re anything but. I want to hold you and kiss you and make you feel better and fix you up when you get hurt. I want all those things and more. I want a family with you. I want to wake up to you every morning. I want to marry you because you deserve the world and I want to give that you.

“I love you, Dean Winchester and I’m not sure you know just how much.” You sighed when you finished. That is all you wanted to say. That wasn’t so hard, now was it. Now all you had to do was find Dean and saw those exact words. You can do this. You got this. Everything will go according to plan.

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heart skipped a beat

pairing: lin-manuel miranda x reader

summary: you were too much.

words: 1,130

warnings: angst!, self-hatred/anxiety, swearing, alcohol

a/n: i listened to the song “heart skipped a beat” by the xx exactly 35 times last night and this terrible thing happened. not only is this my first fic ever published, but it’s also my first fic in english which is not my native language and that makes me too sensible of my defects not to think it probable that i may have committed many [grammatical] errors. honestly, i don’t even know why i’m posting this, since i have like 0.4 followers and no one will read it. i guess i just felt like sharing it somewhere.

please don’t say we’re done when i’m not finished.

“It’s over.” Lin declared briefly, not bothering to look up at you.

You stood there, blood rushing through your whole body, sending chills down your spine. Your brain stopped functioning for a second and you weren’t sure if it would work right ever again. You couldn’t believe he just said that. You thought he never would.

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Don’t be ashamed of liking SAO no matter who tells you otherwise!

I cannot stress this enough! I am so sick and tired of people constantly kicking SAO over and over again as if it’s what keeps their heart pumping. Every time I look up SAO on Youtube, do you know what I find besides the scenes and soundtracks? Every anime review on the planet with a somewhat decent following bashing the shit out of it. There’s no mercy, no regret, no apologizes and more importantly no regard for the people who do like SAO. If there is, then it is very, very, VERY little regard. Guys like digibro, mother’s basement and now arcadea are among the many who won’t leave it alone because apparently it’s the worst thing since the holocaust and therefore must be shamed into oblivion. To those reviewers I ask you. If SAO would it have a 7.80 (a C+, not great but still passable for those of you going by the educational grading system) on myanimelist if it was so terrible? would there be as many people as there are cosplaying sao characters at conventions? would there be as many fanfics and fanarts? people who say that sao helped them irl with anger (, exams (, and autism (, ? would have a few games already made? would be getting an American adaptation? Would it be getting a movie? Would it be allowed to go as long as it has if it was utter garbage? No because it wouldn’t make logical sense. Not unless SAO had enough of a following to stay devoted and keep it so popular. Look I won’t act like it doesn’t have problems. The Aincrad arc could have been expanded a bit longer, the harem aspect probably wasn’t needed, a certain”romance” in the fairy tale arc couldn’t have been changed to something else, sughu is kinda over the top and death gun isn’t necessary a deep character, and the whole Calibur arc probably could’ve been dropped. However this complaints still aren’t enough for me to sway my opinion that SAO, for all its flaws, is still a good anime. A good starting point for people getting into the genre at least. The things people complain about and Hell the things I complained about don’t bother me because I’ve seen it all before. Don’t get me wrong I’m all for seeing something new and different but seeing something I’ve seen before doesn’t bother me either. we all want new things but too many and we forget what we’re familiar with and love. OP main character? Seen it. Harem (not even an anime one)? Seen it. Over the top or boring villains? Seen it. Stories not particularly complex? Seen it. Deus ex-machina? Bitch please, I’ve seen that in spades. All these, while not new things, are things that I’m used to seeing that I just don’t mind it anymore. If I did then there would be a lot of other popular things out there I should hate that I don’t. If we were all like that than we might as well give up on entertainment all together. I know SAO isn’t perfect, but it’s not the garbage fire the sheep preach it to be. If someone hates it, don’t take there word as gospel if you haven’t seen it. If you want to know truly, I believe the best way is to experience it yourself. If you like it great. If you don’t I’m sorry but don’t go around scaring people and saying you have a “moral obligation” to keep people from liking something that is a work of FICTION! If you don’t like it, turn it off and move on! DO NOT berate, insult, or degrade ANYONE for ANY REASON, especially for something that’s not even real and gives people happiness even if you don’t understand it. I know I’m probably gonna be called every bad word in the book just for this post alone. It just proves my point that they don’t have anything better to do than hop on the band wagon of “SAO is shit” with there quick and easy views on there videos of how much it’s anal fire. If you’re one of the people that gain happiness from SAO YOU! ARE! NOT! ALONE! don’t listen to those who say it sucks because they’re either doing for attention or they don’t like it and refuse to understand how anyone could or they do understand and just don’t care otherwise they wouldn’t be passing along the message. however if they insult you are say things to negate your opinion you are allowed if you want to to fight back. No one should be told they’re an idiot ot have low standards for finding enjoyment in something that others don’t and refuse to join the herd. Feel free to let your emotions and thoughts speak highly of the series as much as you want. If the aggressors are allowed to be loud and hurtful than so are those who oppose them because no one should allow themselves or their opinions to be treated as shit. Don’t support those who hate on the series and don’t be afraid to say how much you love SAO. And don’t be afraid to support or at least try out other series that people despise to see how you think of it. It’s better to trust and regret and doubt and regret. At least than you can keep being hopeful and that’s really all anyone ever needs.

anonymous asked:

So Bakugou and Todoroki's hero names didn't get decided early on I think because they're each gonna get their own little mini arcs that get em to decide them, but I kinda wanted to know your opinion on what they might end up being? 'Course they'll probably be derived from future plot that we don't know right now, but I wanted to ask anyway!

!!!! I’ve never really thought about Todoroki’s, tbh? So I have no clue, honest, but as far as Bakugou goes I’ll keep on holding onto Ground Zero until Horikoshi officially and unequivocally tells me he 100% definitely scrapped it, my friend - it’s such a cool name??? I read it and I nearly cried when I realized that probably it’s not gonna be his actual hero name rip

Anon said: You need to draw Bok.uro more (i love them so much,(you to of course)

I’m sure you didn’t mean anything bad by this ask anon, but as I’ve said more than once I really, really don’t like the word need. I don’t need to do anything, no one’s paying me for this. When I’ll want to draw more bokro it’ll for sure happen, so don’t worry about that~

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anonymous asked:

I'm writing a character who was nearly tortured to death by his once best-friend, along w gaslighted and emotionally abused by him in an attempt to get information. What sorts of symptoms do you think he'd show afterwards? Would flinching away from contact/not speaking be logical?

So your character very likely has PTSD.

(quote pulled directly from the VA’s website: Here)

There are four types of PTSD symptoms:

Memories of the traumatic event can come back at any time. You may feel the same fear and horror you did when the event took place. For example:

  • You may have nightmares.
  • You may feel like you are going through the event again. This is called a flashback.
  • You may see, hear, or smell something that causes you to relive the event. This is called a trigger. News reports, seeing an accident, or hearing a car backfire are examples of triggers.

You may try to avoid situations or people that trigger memories of the traumatic event. You may even avoid talking or thinking about the event. For example:

  • You may avoid crowds, because they feel dangerous.
  • You may avoid driving if you were in a car accident or if your military convoy was bombed.
  • If you were in an earthquake, you may avoid watching movies about earthquakes.
  • You may keep very busy or avoid seeking help because it keeps you from having to think or talk about the event.

The way you think about yourself and others changes because of the trauma. This symptom has many aspects, including the following:

  • You may not have positive or loving feelings toward other people and may stay away from relationships.
  • You may forget about parts of the traumatic event or not be able to talk about them.
  • You may think the world is completely dangerous, and no one can be trusted.

You may be jittery, or always alert and on the lookout for danger. You might suddenly become angry or irritable. This is known as hyperarousal. For example:

  • You may have a hard time sleeping.
  • You may have trouble concentrating.
  • You may be startled by a loud noise or surprise.
  • You might want to have your back to a wall in a restaurant or waiting room.


End quote.

So basically,  generally speaking your character should have some sort of intrusive/re-experiencing type symptom- possibly more than one. They’re going to have some sort of avoidant behavior. They’re going to have triggers- ranging from ‘triggers they might have to face every day’ to ‘super specific thing that is unlikely to happen very often.’ Their sense of safety/their thought patterns are going to have changed and they’re going to have something going on with their nervous system.

Where you want to go with that is up to you.

On the intrusive side of things you might:

-Give your characters nightmares. Maybe with his old best friend. Maybe of the torture. Maybe of the torture with new people in his life being involved. Or Maybe just those weird… nightmares? where you’re with someone who hurt you terribly but everything is okay… and you still wake up in a cold sweat or thrashing. 

-Give your character flashbacks. Remember that ‘I think I am back there and completely act that way’ flashbacks are rare. What is more common, but still dramatic, is ‘I know logically I’m not there, but emotionally I am and my nervous system is going haywire so please excuse me while I run away/freak out.’ On the even more common but not dramatic scale- you just have… different sensory flashbacks. Smelling something from the time it happened, hearing it, maybe seeing something out of the corner of his eye. Your character might panic, have a panic attack, feel unsettled, get upset and use coping mechanisms of a positive or negative kind- but they’re not going to react like they think they’re back being tortured. Plenty of survivors have flashbacks and go about their day to day lives, or just have to step out for a bit.

-Ruminating. Being unable to stop thinking about it. To stop making connections to it. 

Trigger wise:

-What about the old best friend’s name? Are they going to get upset/reminded at even the mention of it?

-Anything that they did, that was special to them when they were friends is a possible trigger. Think of it this way- if your best friend throughout elementary school liked horses and you haven’t had a lot of experience with horses since, or reinforced that connection along the way- your brain is probably going to passively think of that old friend, even if just for a second. However, /their brain/ is going to go from ‘old thing we used to do together’ to ‘abuser name’ to ‘oh god what they did to me’ … at lightening speed.

-Any place that the person associates with the person is fair game.

-The place that they were taken from/even where they were headed are fair game.

-The place they were held is definitely fair game.

-Anyone who looks like their torturer is fair game.

-Specific traits of the torturer are fair game.

-Smells from that time are fair game.

-Anything that was used to hurt him? Fair game.

-Phrases used during the interrogation/during the torture

-Phrases common to the friend in childhood/their friendship.

-Did the torturer threaten to kill his family? Well guess what, his family now might be a trigger.

On the avoidance front:

-Avoiding triggers. This can be a conscious decision or it can be… unconscious. I ‘made the choice’ to skip classes for a while before realizing that my college campus had become a trigger. I had a safe area and I couldn’t leave it without panicking.

-Like the thing up there mentioned.. Avoiding crowds or public transportation or certain places.

-May avoid people and intimacy. 

-If his body becomes a trigger due to the torture- he may avoid showers.

Changes in belief:

-The World is Out To Get Me

-I’m Worthless/I Deserve This

-Better Me Hurt Than Someone Else

-If I do _________ Then Someone Gets Hurt

-Trust No one

-Being close to people means they get hurt

-Being close to people means they can be used to hurt me

are different examples of how thought patterns can change after trauma.

We’ve been chatting about hyper arousal a bit recently, but basically this is still where a lot of your negative coping mechanisms stem from.



-Putting oneself in risky situations.

-Bouncing legs/drumming fingers 

-A lot of addictions are born from trying to quieten the nerves. 

As for the two things you mentioned specifically.

Yes some survivors do flinch away from contact and it would make sense.

Not talking a lot is more common than not talking at all. Depression and anxiety can both make talking hard. Thought patterns can make it seem like there’s no point in speaking up. Brain damage from the torture might mean they have the occasional- or… constant- symptom of word salad going on. Where they can speak but what they say makes no sense. Speaking may literally just…. take too much energy. Speaking may become a trigger.

With the gaslighting, you’re very likely going to see him have issues trusting his own grasp on reality. He might try to combat it (by writing everything down, by documenting things in triplicate, by asking people for their take on things) or he might subcome to it. 

So you have lots of options and it is up to you to pick and choose which ones you want to weave throughout your story.

Good luck!


anonymous asked:

Mmmmm my friend. My pal. My dude if I may be so bold. Please hook me up with some sweet, sweet novahd, I love the way you write them my guy. Fake Chop? Even better. But seriously some fresh boys in dumb love trying to take on the world together? Be it on YouTube or in the crime ring, I'd love seeing some more of your stuff. Also I love you even if you don't want to write any more. Okay kisses, bye. <3

Anon, you are the best (and sweetest) person ever, and for that, I give you this. Please excuse the spelling errors, It’s 5AM here and I’m tired as shit (I will look through this after some sleep), but I wanted to post this before going to bed. I hope you enjoy this and tired me thank you for your kind words.

From the beginning, since the first moment he met the smug bastard, Aleks knew he’d follow James anywhere. It hadn’t been a conscious decision on his part. He didn’t look at the guy and think, yes, this dude, he’s that missing piece of me I’ve been looking for; nothing quite like that, but he had this feeling in his gut that told him, no matter what went down, no matter how much they argued or disagreed, he’d always be one step behind James.

It’s James’ idea to start a crew. A fuck you to every other crew in Los Santos; a way to show that they could become something more than a two-bit assassin and a self-proclaimed thief.

Aleks has his doubts. He’s never been a part of a crew, and the last crew James had been with ended up leaving him bleeding out in a gutter. What if they screwed up? What if they ended up dead? What if they couldn’t find anyone to join their crew? What if they did and these people ended up betraying them? What if? What if? Question after question that kept him up at night and left his stomach in knots.

James, however, is determined, and Aleks can’t deny that he likes the idea of having his own crew once he pushes past the anxiety. He likes knowing that, if he can’t be there with James, he’d at least have someone there watching his back, even if he insisted he didn’t need the backup. He’s stubborn and reckless and unpredictable, and Aleks knows he’ll sleep better at night knowing the idiot will actually make it home in one piece.

Plus the grin James gives him when he agrees is an added bonus, but no one askes and he doesn’t tell.

Before James, Aleks had spent most of his time stealing shit for people. Paintings, jewels, money, cars; anything and everything as long as they paid up after the job. From a young age, he’d been really good at getting in and out of places without being seen; a living ghost.

He’d learned to pick pockets early in life, taught himself how to pick a lock, spent hours in internet cafes trying to figure out how to hotwire a car. He hadn’t meant to become a thief, he’d been more curious about the process than actually doing the act, but he figured why waste his talents? Every crime boss needed a good thief, and if he could make himself the best he’d always have a job.

He’d met James when his crew hired him to steal some documents from some high-security mansion. Aleks’ job had been to infiltrate the place, find the documents, and bring them back before anyone discovered he’d been inside the place. They gave him an hour; he’d done it in thirty minutes. The easiest fifty grand he’d ever made.

He hadn’t been planning on sticking around after the job, never really had before so why start now, but someone handed him a beer and another and another and soon he was pleasantly buzzed, sitting on a couch, listening to the radio playing some stupid pop song he had heard a hundred times.

Someone plopped down next to him, took his beer from him, and said, “Thank you.”

“Hey!” Aleks turned to the guy, reaching out to take his beer, but the guy held it out of his reach. “Give it back.”

“Nope.” The guy took a drink, draining the last dregs, and set the bottle on the rickety coffee table. “Want another?”


“Do you want another beer?” The guy jumped up, nodding towards the kitchen. He held out his hand, wriggling his fingers, waiting for Aleks to take it. “Come on, before there isn’t anymore.

Aleks sat there for a few seconds before sighing and grabbing the guy’s hand, letting him drag him to his feet. He offered him a smug smile, shook his hand, and said, “James.”

“More like Jackass.”

James snorted, dropping Aleks’ hand, and headed towards the kitchen. Aleks waited a few seconds before following him.

Their first job as a crew goes terribly. They’re not the best at planning, and the new dude, Trevor, is so green he’s probably never stolen anything before in his life, but he had been cheap and they aren’t exactly rolling in the dough right now.

Aleks takes a bullet to the shoulder, James ends up with a concussion, and Trevor gets lost trying to drive them back to the safehouse, but they’re alive. A little worse for wear but breathing.

When they eventually make it back to the safehouse, Aleks is woozy and James is moody and Trevor is frantically running back and forth between the two, trying to tend to their wounds, but he’s shaking so bad it’s any wonder he’s still standing.

Irritated and most likely on the verge of shooting Trevor, James fumbles with his cell, scrolling through what little contacts he has, putting it to his ear when he finds the right number.

“Brett,” he says into the phone. “Aleks is shot and this idiot-” he throws a dark look at Trevor who shrinks back, “-is about as useful as wet toilet paper.” James hums, listening to whatever Brett is telling him, and hangs up a moment later. “He’s on his way.”

“How does he know…?” Trevor starts, but James throws another dark look his way and his words falter.

“He’s on his way,” he repeats and Aleks nods, pressing harder on his shoulder wound, feeling a little bad for Trevor.

Just a little.

James’ crew betrayed him on a Thursday. It’d been an uneventful day on Aleks’ end. He’d mostly spent it with his cat and dog, watching stupid shit on TV, wishing someone would call for a job. He’d been willing to do anything, even a simple breaking and entering. Anything to appease the boredom that had settled around him; anything to escape daytime television.

When his phone rang, he practically pounced on it. Finally, somebody was putting him out of his misery. He answered the call without looking at the screen, happy just to be getting a job, only to nearly drop his phone when a soft voice said, “A-Aleks? A-Aleks, help me.”

“James?” Aleks stood up without really thinking about it, already looking for his keys. “Where are you? What happened?”

“H-help…” the line went quiet and for a moment Aleks actually thought James had hung up, but he heard his rattling breathing followed by a barely audible street name, and Aleks rushed out of his apartment.

He found James lying in a gutter, bloody and bruised and barely breathing, and his heart nearly stopped. Since the job he’d pulled for James’ crew, he and Aleks had hung out on and off, they were friends, and to see one of his friends like this had his blood boiling.

James had been hard to move, more deadweight than anything, but Aleks managed it and drove him to the nearest hospital.

The doctors had been surprised when James pulled through, but Aleks knew, deep in his gut, that he’d survived out of spite. He also hadn’t left his side the entire time, telling the hospital staff he was his brother so he didn’t have to leave.

When James finally woke up, he met Aleks’ eyes and hoarsely asked, “You here to betray me, too?”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Why?”

When James told him what happened, how his crew betrayed him, his voice had been void of any emotions, and afterward, when he told Aleks he was going to get his revenge, Aleks knew right then and there he was going to help however he could; no matter what it took.

Joe’s an old friend from James’ childhood. Aleks mistakes him for the sweet, innocent type until he sneaks up behind a guy and easily slits his throat. He’s never doing that again.

When James brings up the idea of letting Joe join their crew, Aleks has no problem with it. When he sees how buddy-buddy they are, however, he can’t deny the small bout of jealousy that settles in his gut.

He ignores it as best as he can, mostly because acting like a jilted lover is the last thing he wants to do, but one day, before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “Were you and Joe ever a thing?”

“What?” James’ head snaps up so quickly Aleks winces when he hears his neck pop. “Ow! Fuck!”

“Shit, dude. You okay?”

“No! Goddamn that hurt!”

“Lemme get you some ice.” He heads towards the freezer, digging around for the ice cube tray, closing the door, only to jerk back when he finds James standing directly behind it, dropping the tray.

“Fuck,” he mutters, stooping down to collect the ice scattered across the floor.

“Why’d you wanna know if Joe and I were a thing?”

“I don’t,” Aleks answers quickly, face red, eyes downcast. He picks up all the ice, pushing himself to his feet, and hurries towards the sink. “Forget I asked.”

“You thinking about fucking him?”

“What?” Aleks whirls around, nearly missing the flicker of anger that flashes in James’ eyes. “God, no! Why? Jealous?”

“Fuck off.” James stalks away and they don’t talk the rest of the day.

They had met Brett by accident. James wanted to try his hand at assassinations, something he figured would help fund his revenge plan on his old crew, but Aleks didn’t have any contacts that could help him. They poked around for a while, trying to find someone willing to take pity on a loud, abrasive man with a short fuse and a modest body count.

They found some small crew willing to pay if James had been willing to kill one of their enemies. He agreed, mostly because he got to kill someone, and they handed over a file.

He managed to take out the target, but he’d gotten caught leaving the building. Socked in the face, tossed into a trunk, and driven back to some warehouse. He didn’t exactly tell Aleks what went down, but he when he returned he’d brought Brett with him.

“What’s he doing here?” Aleks had hissed while Brett wandered around their apartment.

“He’s a fence,” James answered, watching Brett uncertainly. “Or so he says.”

“You really shouldn’t conduct business where you live,” Brett called from the kitchen. “Cops ever tracked you down, they’d have enough evidence to put your asses away for life.”

“What are you, our dad?”

“No,” Brett replies, returning to the living room, holding a mug of whiskey, “I’m your new business partner.”

Aleks doesn’t mean to fall off the ladder. One minute they’re escaping the cops, the next his foot slips on the rung and he’s falling to the ground. He blacks out the moment he hits the concrete, coming to a few seconds later to James trying to haul his ass off the ground.

“Come on,” he shouts, and Aleks is too dazed to fight him, allowing him to drag him to his feet. Everything tilts and he’s pretty sure he’s going to throw up, but he puts one foot in front of the other as both stumble out of the alleyway.

“Stupid, useless, fucking plan,” James complains, panting with the effort of keeping Aleks upright and them both moving. “Told you…. the fire escape…. was the worst idea.”

“‘m not the one ‘fraid of heights,” Aleks murmurs, fighting to keep his eyes open. “Chicken shit.”

“Fuck… you…”

Aleks loses time.

When he’s conscious again, he finds himself lying on a scratchy couch, a leather jacket draped over his shoulders. He hears someone talking quietly, but he can’t make out the words. He listens for another few minutes before losing more time.

The next time he wakes up, he’s more coherent, and he can hear snoring coming from somewhere near his feet. He sits up, grabbing for the couch’s arm when the room tilts, and murmurs, “Shit.”

“What?” the snores cut off and Aleks feels the couch jolt. “Aleks? You awake?”


A light snaps on and he shields his eyes from the sudden glow, holding his head in his free hand. He winces when someone gently probes his skull with their fingers, squeezing his eyes shut, breathing deeply through the pain.

“You know I can’t do stitches worth shit,” James says softly, moving his hand from Aleks’ head and resting it against his neck. “Probably should have risked getting Brett’s contact here, but we didn’t have time.”

“Did I fall off a ladder?” Aleks asks softly, shivering when James’ thumb brushes his pulse point.

“Yes, dumbass.”

“And you came back for me.” It’s the worst moment to tease James, he knows it, but he can’t help it.

“Fuck off,” James replies but with zero heat behind the words.



James set his old crew’s hideout on fire six months to the day of their betrayal. He dragged Aleks out of bed, handed him a ridiculous mask, and they left Brett passed out on their couch.

It wasn’t a long drive, but for Aleks, it felt like it took forever. When they pulled up to the old apartment complex, less inviting than the last time he’d been there, James got out of the car.

He ducked down, looking into the open doorway, and said, “You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to.”

“Fuck off.” Aleks got out of the car, trailing after James, looking up at the place. There was no one inside, James had made sure of it. He’d told Aleks he wanted his old crew to pay, but he didn’t want them dead, and Aleks could respect that decision. They’d been a big part of his life, a second family to him; old feelings didn’t die overnight.

It doesn’t take long for the place to go up in flames. It’s old and probably not up to safety code. They stood there for a few moments, watching the fire before sirens broke them from their reverie.

“Let’s go.” James grabbed his hand, dragging him towards the car.

Once behind the wheel, James started the car and sped off in the opposite direction of the sirens. He drove for a good ten minutes before pulling over onto the side of the road.

Neither one said a word for a long moment, but Aleks finally sighed and said, “You okay?”

“Not sure.”

“It’s not every day you burn down your ex-crew’s hideout.”


“I’m sure, you know, in time, you’ll come to…”



“Shut up.”

They’re not an established crew, not by a long shot, but Aleks figures they have time. They’ll find their niche, find some allies, make some more enemies, but until then they’ll just have to keep moving forward and hope for the best.

And if moving forward meant walking straight into hell. Well, he’s been worst places.

anonymous asked:

Prompt: MSR - FLUFF -scully is pregnant, Mulder looks after her.

Drabble; PG; Fluff; Set post-Three Little Words/pre-Empedocles; What changed between Mulder’s calm detachment in Three Little Worlds and his almost overbearing behavior in Empedocles? 

A/N: I’m pretty terrible at simple fluff, so there is a little bit of teariness here. But it’s happy, I think. 

A/N 2: Send me prompts in my ask-box! Taking MSR, Scully x Reyes and gen any character(s). Specify if you’re looking for something R or NC-17, please.


It takes her a little while to figure out what he’s up to because he disguises everything so damn well under the litany of personality flaws he exhibits on a daily basis. She knows Mulder, clingy, one-track, obsessive Mulder, always knocking down each lead in his lifelong match of alien invasion dominoes, always foiling the plot, and so if he’s doing everything he’s always done, why should she think anything different?

This is why she doesn’t question his near-constant presence in her apartment. Why it doesn’t seem all that weird he drives to her place every morning to pick her up for work, even when he’s not supposed to be in that day. And they’ve always done the food thing. That’s just common courtesy when you interrupt someone at dinnertime. If he’s a little jumpier than normal, hopping off couches and rearranging pillows for no apparent reason, making them way too many cups of tea, calling her… a lot, for no good reason, it’s all just a throwback to the manic Mulder she knows and grudgingly loves.

There’s nothing at home for him, Kersh is keeping a close watch on the X-Files… so where else would he be?

But the cat comes yowling out of the bag one early morning while he’s preparing them bagels and talking about, hell, probably super soldiers. She tunes him out. She talks about this all day at work. But he interrupts himself, loudly, and earns her full attention with a start.

“You can’t drink that,” he frowns. Are you crazy? his eyes ask. Not typically, but she’s beginning to feel a little crazy with the way he’s disassembling her coffee pot and pouring the water back in the sink.

She looks down at the coffee grounds she was about to spoon into the paper filter. Decaf coffee grounds.

And then suddenly she knows.

Mulder is trying to take care of her.


“I’m just a little confused,” she says slowly. It sure is difficult to talk to the rigid line of his back. She fights the urge to reach out and touch him because he’s been so excitable lately and she doesn’t want to be another thing that sets him off.

“Nothing to understand,” he monotones. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The pillows. The tea. You drive me to work every morning… you keep bringing me food.”

“Well it’s been awhile since I’ve seen you, is all.” The resulting silence is all he needs to let him know that was a little uncalled for, and he amends: “You’re my best friend, Scully. Where else would I be?”

It’s not the whole truth. If he can’t turn around and look at her in the eye, it’s not the whole truth. But she lets herself take a few steps forward to place her hand on his shoulder and quashes down the urge to cry when he rests his cheek upon it.

“The other day in your apartment,” her voice comes out wobbly, hesitant, but so hopeful his heart breaks a little. Her fingers squeeze around him tightly. “I wasn’t sure you wanted to be involved.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath and turns around to face her. His eyes are too bright, the tick in his jaw pulses like mad. Oh, Mulder.

“Scully, do you ever have flashbacks of your abduction? Ones that… almost replace reality, they’re so vivid?”

An anger surges in her at the question. Now is not the time to talk about the aliens. But she reads his look thoroughly before she chooses her next words and it all becomes clear to her.

“You remember, don’t you?” His blank face falls a little under her gaze and he gives a jerky nod. “It’s not like mine. You remember everything.”

He takes hold of the hand on his shoulder to kiss the knuckles and tuck it in his own. His look is hard steel, the Truth itself, the one he gives her when he’s desperate to be understood.

“I can’t promise I’m going to be a good…” he trails off, and she understands his inability to say the word. For now, he doesn’t have to. “I will be dealing with this and everything else that’s happened to me, to us, for the rest of my life.” Pressing another kiss to where their hands are joined, he sighs with closed eyes and mumbles into her wrist: “But there is not a life for me without you in it. Without both of you in it.”

Tears leak from her eyes before she can think to stop them. She pulls him into a tight hug, mindful of the third party, and presses a deep, lingering kiss to his furrowed forehead.

“Well then,” she breathes, pulling away and holding his face in her damp palms. “Why don’t you take the both of us to my Lamaze appointment? And we can work out a better way to do this thing.”

He falls comfortably back into her embrace.

SoCo Summer Challenge!

Probably not the SoCo some of you are thinking of!

Originally posted by somethingjacksmannequin

Below the cut are two freaking hundred prompts from Something Corporate lyrics. Your challenge, should you choose to participate, is to select one or two prompts (pretty sure there are plenty, I clearly have no self-control) and either use them as inspiration for your fic or use them in the dialogue. 

  • Anyone and everyone is welcome to participate! Doesn’t matter if you’re an “established” writer around here, or writing your first fic. 
  • Any and all SPN actors and characters welcome! 
  • Pairings or no pairing; reader insert or OC; please, no ships. 
  • Drabbles/one-shots or new series starts. Please don’t drop this in the middle of a fifty-part series; I want to read as many as I can, and I’m not sure I could catch up at that point! 
  • Sign-ups will be open until the challenge closes. You can write as many fics as you want. As long as they’re in by the deadline, they’ll make the masterlist. 
  • I’ll do my best to read and reblog all of them! If I haven’t reblogged your fic within 48 hours of you posting it, tag me again or send it to me. 
  • All genres are welcome, but please include any and all appropriate warnings. 
  • No word minimum or maximum, but make good use of that Keep Reading feature! 
  • As far as using the lyrics, if you don’t include them in the fic, that’s fine, but make sure we can see how you used them as inspiration. I’d like to see something more creative than just having the song playing in the background – think outside the box, friends!
  • You must send me an ask to enter. I will not respond to or accept entries in any other form, it’s just too hard to keep track of! 
  • Please tag me and #soco summer wc within the first five bottom tags. 
  • Deadline is August 31, 2017, 11:59 PM CST. If you need an extension, just let me know! 
  • If you have any other questions or concerns, please don’t hesitate to ask! I’m happy to provide answers! 

Tags below the prompts for signal boost or possible participation. Have fun everyone! 

Keep reading

Anime basics: You and I

Why you shouldn’t use your anime Japanese in real life

Language, and the way it conveys the relationship between characters, is endlessly fascinating. In Japanese, specifically, *everything* means something. What an anime character calls someone is important, but even how they talk about themselves has meaning.

You see, there’s no simple ‘I’ or 'you’ in Japanese.

That would be too easy.

Boku, ore, anata, watashi, omae and kimi

Japanese has several different words for 'I’ and 'you’, each applicable in different circumstances. The same way that characters pick and choose between calling each other Ya-chan or Sousuke-kun, their pronouns also have meaning. In a way this is a continuation of my honorifics post from a while back. Putting both of them together adds extra layers of meaning in relationships between people and helps in understanding how that character sees themselves in the world.

Keep reading

Connected Hearts (G.D.)

Hello my little muffins! I had a dream the other night and the wonderful @scuteedolans gave me the courage to write and post this! Im sorry if this sucks but i’m tryin real hard lol its a whole whopping 1,383 words and its based in a bagel shop because i work in a bagel shop and its easy for me to write about hahaha but let me know what you think!


I headed toward the front of the bagel shop, carrying four tubs of bulk cream cheese. The containers were full and very heavy, but I knew if I balanced things just right I’d make it to the line just in time. I hauled the tubs up on to the counter and started pulling off the lids. I felt someone nudge my arm and I turned to see one of my best friends, Ethan, grinning down at me. “What’s shakin’, bup?” he asked. “Really? ‘What’s shakin’ ‘ E? Are you 80 years old?” I said with a giggle. “What?! I’m trying to keep our banter fresh and exciting!” Ethan said with a dorky smile. His smile faltered a bit when he saw my boyfriend coming up to the front of the store. Me, Ethan, and my boyfriend Jason, all worked together at the bagel shop, and while Ethan was one of my oldest and dearest friends, he and Jason did NOT get along. Ethan tried to be his friend and made an effort to be nice to Jason, but because Jason was our manager and also very territorial, he immediately disliked Ethan. And he liked Ethan’s twin brother, Grayson, even less. “Hey man! How’s your day goin?” Ethan asked, attempting to make polite conversation, bless his precious heart. Jason just glared at him and then said “It could be better.” Jason continued walking passed us and into his office to probably do some “paperwork”. And by paperwork, I mean texting other girls. He’s an awful person and he treats me terribly and honestly, I don’t know why I’m still with him. Things used to be good between us. We used to have fun and we used to be happy, but now I wake up next to him and feel nothing. I have more fun with the twins than I’ve ever had with Jason. Today it was the same thing again. I woke up, I somehow irritated him (probably just from breathing), and the subsequent car ride to work together was awkward and uncomfortable.

All of a sudden the sound of shouting filled the bagel shop and I looked up to see a group of Jason’s friends. I sighed and Ethan looked up to see what had me so distressed. At the sight of Jason’s friends, he groaned and said “Why do they always come in packs?! Please, Y/N explain this to me.” I chuckled and shook my head because I had no answer for him. Jason’s friends strolled up to the counter to order and as soon as they did, one of them snapped in my face and proceeded to laugh. “Hey Y/N, is Jason here? We’d rather talk to him than you and your faggot friend here.” One of them said. Ethan raised his voice to a rather high pitch and adopted an effeminate tone and said “Sure thing babe, I’ll go get him for ya right this very second, sugar.” Ethan walked towards the office, adding a little sway of his hips that made me giggle. I clapped my hand over my mouth and tried to suppress a full-body laugh. Jason emerged from his office, Ethan trailing behind him making silly faces causing me to giggle yet again. Jason glared at me when he heard me laughing and responded with “What the fuck are you laughing about? Don’t you have something to clean? Go.” Jason turned to talk with his wild pack of friends and I could feel myself getting more and more angry. I spun around to carry the dirty metal pans into the kitchen. I could see Ethan typing wildly on his phone, ignoring the situation. I started walking to the kitchen and my shoe caught on a broken tile and the tower of metal pans in my hands went crashing loudly to the floor. Everyone went quiet and stared at me, judging my clumsiness. I could feel my cheeks heating up and I just knew my face was red. I felt a hand on my arm, helping me up and I knew it was Ethan. “Thanks E.” I whispered. Suddenly, Jason’s voice boomed through the restaurant. “WHAT THE FUCK Y/N?! WHY CAN’T YOU EVER DO WHAT I ASK?! YOU’RE SO FUCKING STUPID!” he screamed, his friends snickering behind him. Before I knew it, I was up in his face and the words were exploding out of me. “YA KNOW WHAT JASON? I CAN’T FUCKING STAND YOU. I HAVEN’T EVEN BEEN ABLE TO LOOK AT YOU WITHOUT GAGGING FOR THE LAST 3 MONTHS. YOU ARE REPULSIVE AND LOUD AND ANNOYING AND SO FUCKING SELFISH THAT I FEEL GUILTY FOR HAVING MY OWN THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS.” At this point Jason was staring at me in complete shock and I was just so angry I just couldn’t stop screaming. “WE AREN’T GOOD TOGETHER AND WE HAVENT BEEN FOR A LONG FUCKING TIME. YOU’RE ALWAYS SO MEAN TO ME AND I HAVE TO CALL ONE OF THE TWINS TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER. SO YA KNOW WHAT?” I inhaled deeply, held my breath, and exhaled slowly before whispering “I’m done.” “What the fuck did you just say to me?” Jason hissed. “ I said I’m fucking done. We are OVER. Get your shit out of my apartment and get the hell out of my life.” I spat back at him. Ethan put his hand on my back and said “C’mon Y/n.” “Oh one last thing Jason. I QUIT. So have fun covering my Saturday closing shift, asshole!” I grinned at him over my shoulder and waved goodbye. “I’ll call ya later bup, okay?” Ethan said quietly. I nodded and made my way to the back of the store. I could hear Jason’s “Have fun walking home bitch! We took my car here today!” in the distance but I couldn’t care less. I felt weightless and free for the first time in a long time. I hung my apron up and slung my bag over my shoulder. I shoved the door open and the sun hit my face as I smiled. I heard someone clear their throat and I opened my eyes. When my eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight and I could see again, my face split into a grin because standing before me was the one and only Grayson Dolan, leaning all strong and handsome with his arms crossed over his chest against his big pick-up truck. “Gray how do you always know when I need you the most?” I asked. “Our hearts are connected, don’t you know that by now?” he said with a grin. I crossed my arms and smirked back at him, raising an eyebrow. “Alright, Ethan texted me and told me what that jerk-off was doing to you. You know I have half a mind to walk in there and knock him the fuck out, right?” Grayson said, pointing at the door. “Yeah Gray, I know.” I said smiling down at my feet. I could feel the tears pricking at my eyes, threatening to spill over. The watery image of two shoes became four, as Grayson stepped forward into my space. He put two fingers under my chin and lifted my head to look me in the eyes. I sniffled and he wiped a stray tear from my cheek. “Stop it sweetheart. Don’t cry. You know I don’t like seein’ you cry.” He said smiling softly. “I know Gray. Our hearts are connected, remember?” I whispered back. “That they are sweetheart, that they are.” Grayson said quietly. We locked eyes for a few moments and I could feel the electricity between us. “Grayson, I need you.” I whispered. “I know. I always know.” Was all he said before he gently pressed his lips to mine. He pulled back and searched my face for any kind of sign that what just happened wasn’t okay. I smiled and said “Now I know why Jason never liked you.” Grayson held a hand over his heart and gasped in mock surprise. “What?! Jason doesn’t like me?! Well I never!” I threw my head back and laughed loudly and unashamed. “C’mon babe, lets go for a ride.” He said, pulling me towards his truck. For the first time in along time, I could say I was truly happy. It felt so damn good.

Wayhaught fic recs

This got longer than I expected. Sorted into oblivious!Wynonna, Nicole-centric, supernatural!Nicole, canon, AU and smut. 

This is obviously in no way complete, so if you feel I missed something, please let me know (also, if you’d like me to add certain trigger warning. Otherwise, I’d recommend checking the tags, just to be sure. 

Oblivious (and sometimes not so oblivious) Wynonna

feel you get closer now (closer than you’ve been) by reinclarkenation

God, she’s such a dork. She knows she is. How could everything just shift like that? How could someone living in a world where she’s cursed and going day to day helping in a fight against demons feel like the biggest thing to effect her life is a cute girl?


Waverly and Nicole keep getting interrupted and Wynonna isn’t as dense as they’d like to believe.

Sweet Oblivion by Trufreak89

Inspired by a Tumblr post - Everyone in town seems to know that Waverly & Nicole are a thing; everyone except Wynonna.

Wynonna Earp is a Shit Ticket (And Waverly’s Gonna Kick Her Ass) by  skillzyo

Wynonna has a lot of missed time to make up for since she came back to Purgatory and her sister. She didn’t realize how much fun being the teasing big sister could be, and now she doesn’t think she’ll ever stop. Not when her baby sister has a crush.

Check out the That Sweet Something series by this author, too!

I’ve Got A Gun by madcapdragonshenanigans

Wynonna knows women. More importantly, she knows her sister. Specifically, she knows when her sister is crushing on someone. And since that someone happens to be one Officer Haught, and said officer is taking her to breakfast so she can explain all of the, well, everything happening in Purgatory, it would be a good idea to make it clear that under no circumstances would Wynonna tolerate another Champ. Yup, definitely a good idea.

That Shirts Too Big On You by MudPuppyVaynith

Wynonna can’t find Waverly anywhere, so she stops by Nicole’s apartment to see if the Officer has caught a glimpse of her somewhere.

Then she finds her sister.


WayHaught get caught AGAIN.

Keep reading

@abominableobriens tagged me for an author self-rec ask meme (so many good ships, damn)

Since this is my check please blog, I’m only gonna do my check please fic here.  I’d include blue neighborhood ‘verse, but since it’s not all posted yet, I’m going to leave it off the five for now.

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers (◠‿◠✿)”

1) midnight whisperings. (AO3, rebloggable on tumblr), Bitty/Jack/Kent (Bitty/Jack and Jack/Kent polyamorous V)

Jack feels places in his bones. He always has, before he had a camera in his hands to crystallize moments, to try to capture some small measure of what a place means on film. He doesn’t know how else to process places than to remember them as layers of feelings and sensations built up over time.

But making sense of how Kent Parson feels is a complicated process.

For me, this was one of those kind of wring yourself dry fics that came out of nowhere.  I really, really am very fond of it, though.  It’s a pretty introspective fic, focused a lot on dealing with complex feelings and with the way time changes things, but I’m proud of the way the words flow together.

2) when the full moon turns white (that’s when i’ll come home). (AO3tumblr), Dex/Nursey

Nursey hasn’t been a werewolf for all that long, and while he knows he can keep most things under wraps, he doesn’t even always trust himself.

That’s what the rope is for, more than anything. For his own peace of mind.

Every fandom needs a Teen Wolf-style werewolf AU with full moon bondage adventures, right?  I’m pretty sure that’s definitely a thing.  Anyway, I really like the opening to this fic, and I think I achieved the vibe I was going for.

3) down by the water. (AO3, tumblr), Holster/Ransom

“It doesn’t even make sense,” Holster had protested on the drive over. It was an empty protest, and he didn’t pursue it. After all, the Niagara Falls trip is sacred. Sure, they may both be living in an apartment in Boston together, now, but it’s Canada’s turn.

Ransom conceded a Tim Horton’s trip and agreed to an IHOP one in exchange for the longer drive, because he’s a good boyfriend.

This was just some nice fluffy Holsom going on their annual Niagra Falls date.  If I ever wrote sequels I’d write the proposal that’s inevitably gonna happen there in the future, but I am terrible and rarely write follow-up fics.

4) i don’t know you (but i want you so bad). (AO3, tumblr) Bitty/Kent

Bitty knows better than to think that everyone is what they seem. Bitty’s used to taking people with a grain of salt. He’s from the South, where there isn’t a soul without a passive-aggressive bone in their body. Everyone keeps their skeletons in the closet, and family business stays family business unless someone goes and runs their mouth. Or until the neighbors come snooping, which they always do.

Bitty isn’t naive enough to think that Kent Parson is all quiet smiles and shiny sharpie signatures.

This fic is what happens when you listen to Songs About Jane (specifically, Secret) by Maroon 5 too many times in a row.  This fic is important to me because Bitty wrestles with something that I think a lot of fic doesn’t have the space to capture.  He’s a semi-closeted southern boy who was bullied back in Georgia for being small and not traditionally masculine-coded, aka probably largely for being a Suspected Gay.  He’s probably never felt wanted in his entire life, not in a way that is blatant and open and something he can process.  And that’s a very overwhelming thing.  Feeling wanted for the first time.  Especially by someone he finds objectively attractive.  Especially by someone he has very mixed and muddled impressions of.  It’s hard to sort through.

5) naked sunday. (AO3, tumblr) Lardo/Shitty

“You’re gonna get naked aren’t you,” Lardo said. Her eyes weren’t so sharp as they usually were after smoking a joint down to the roach, but she’d heard the rumors about Shitty’s penchant for nudity. Probably from Jack, honestly.

“Ch’yeah,” Shitty said. “Once I can feel my fingers enough to deal with buttons.”

Trans man Shitty and Lardo getting a soft naked morning together is important to me.

I’m tagging @yoursummerfrost , @queerlyalex , @rushingsnowy , @dexsnursey , @mighty-alphalpha, and whoever else wants to do it.

Music Series: Don’t You Remember by Adele

Thank you Anon for the request! I love Adele beyond words. It’s deep and it’s real.

That being said, I have had major mixed feelings on this story. So much of Adele’s music is about the bitterness of heartbreak. I cannot and will not write Harry in a bad light, when we all know what a great person he is. And I don’t like the idea of writing ‘the reader’ as a bad guy, and everything having a terrible ending. I love angst, but this song was tough to catch it just right.

So I did what I do with any story I’m struggling with, and decide what I want to accomplish with it, what the characters feel, and what I want the readers to hopefully feel after reading it. My goal was for Harry to still be loved, for ‘the reader’ to not be completely hated (because who wants to read a 2nd person narrative and come out feeling like shit from it, right?), and I wanted the problem to be resolved and to be as happy as I could make it be when the song clearly states they are not together. I can only turn that key so many ways with my writing.

So, this is the product of my first request today, to Adele’s “Don’t You Remember” (please bow to the soulful queen). You can find this song on my Spotify playlist called Gloomy Poops, Here.

Just a quick note: I’m back to work this week after a week’s vacation last week, which allowed me to do a major amount of writing. I apologize if I don’t pump out as much now (I work 10 to 12 hour days), but I promise to continue posting my stories as long as you all seem to want me to. Thank you for reading, liking, requesting, and reblogging!




When will I see you again? You left with no goodbye,

Not a single word was said, no final kiss to seal any sins,

I had no idea of the state we were in,

I know I have a fickle heart and a bitterness,

And a wandering eye, and heaviness in my head,

He was gone. Just like that. No goodbye. No hug or kiss to your cheek. He was done.

You knew things had changed lately in your relationship with Harry. In the beginning it felt amazing, and you both seemed happy, as you became fast friends and quickly began dating over the past few months. But as time went on, you sensed he wasn’t happy and that his feelings were changing for you. But you didn’t want to believe it, causing you to cling on even tighter than you already were.

You were smothering him.

You weren’t the same person Harry had once had feelings for. Your insecurities had killed your chances with him. You had become so unstable in your actions and behavior, seeing you playfully flirt with other men, and feeling he couldn’t even trust you with his own emotions and feelings. If he didn’t get back with you immediately when you texted, you freaked out, and you were constantly questioning everything he said and did, making him feel under a microscope. You had become a stress to him that he didn’t need, and he felt it was better to end it now than to drag it out and make it worse, possibly even losing the friendship. He didn’t hate you, he just realized it wasn’t like being in love. After all, being in love and loving someone were two different things.

He was gone. Told you he needed his space, and it was the perfect time for it with tour beginning. Your relationship wasn’t easy and relaxed anymore, and he needed it to be over.

When was the last time you thought of me?

Or have you completely erased me from your memory?

I often think about where I went wrong,

The more I do, the less I know,

But don’t you remember? Don’t you remember?

The reason you loved me before,

Baby, please remember me once more

Months earlier you had bought a ticket for one of Harry’s shows, hoping to surprise him after a couple of months of being away. You knew it probably wasn’t a good idea to go, but you just wanted to see him again. There was no real need to talk. You knew it was over. You just wanted to be where he was, one last time. You missed his friendship…more if you were being completely honest…but you respected his decision, and you were beginning to understand.

For two months you had had no contact with him, but you had a lot of time to reflect on the situation and lose the bitterness you had harbored early on in the breakup. You only hoped that someday he would forgive you and want to be friends again. But if not, you understood and accepted it was your own fault for what happened that pushed him away.

As you walked into the small, intimate venue, you clung along a wall, staying back where you thought he wouldn’t see you, and watched as Harry performed. He was spirited and charismatic on the stage, just as he always was, but it was bittersweet to you now. It made you feel like he had completely written you out of his memory, already. He seemed…happy again.

You pressed your back against the wall, arms wrapped around yourself, in a room full of people, feeling completely alone. As you watched Harry sing and intermingle with the crowd, you suddenly saw a different Harry than the one you had been dating recently. You saw the Harry you became smitten with months before. The one who was fun and full of life. And you realized that it was your actions and behavior that was zapping the life out of him lately. He was really a wonderful man, and you felt terrible for thinking badly of him for leaving you. You were both better off apart.

Gave you the space so you could breathe,

I kept my distance so you would be free,

And hoped that you’d find the missing piece,

To bring you back to me

You could see it now. Maybe subconsciously you always knew that you and Harry didn’t make a perfect couple, that your personalities weren’t made for a relationship together. And how could you compare to the amazing life he had? Maybe you did lose your way a bit. Maybe you did become a bit obsessive with him, afraid that you were going to lose him. And maybe you were seeing now that he was never really yours to lose.

You understood now. You were suffocating him. Smothering him to the point that he couldn’t breathe or enjoy being with you anymore. Your eyes were opening to how you had been lately, and you felt sad. Sad that you had put Harry through the shit you put him through. Sad that you had now lost something that was once at least a good friendship, even if never a great relationship. You knew you had to let him go, and hoped maybe he would still want to be friends. Who knew? Maybe someday you would grow up enough to be what he needed you to be, as you were sure you had lost that now. You hoped that when he would remember you, that he would remember the real you. The one he met months before and enjoyed spending time with. Not the one you had become recently.

Why don’t you remember?

Don’t you remember?

The reason you loved me before,

Baby, please remember me once more,

When will I see you again?

As the show was ending, your earlier thoughts of maybe trying to talk to Harry were gone. You were letting him go from a relationship he had let go of months before. You had lost a good friend, and someone you had once really enjoyed spending time with. You made each other laugh, and that’s what you thought you would miss the most, and what you hoped most that he would remember.

You stood back as the small crowd began to leave, not eager to fight a crowd or a full parking lot while waiting on a taxi to take you back to the airport for the flight home. Finally the crowd thinned enough that you made your way toward the doors. As you were about to step out into the cool night air, you felt a hand on your wrist. You quickly turned and saw Harry, a slight grin on his face. It wasn’t awkward as it had been the last few weeks of your relationship. The old relaxed feeling was there once again, comfortable as friends are with each other.

You looked at him and smiled back to him, hoping he could see on your face the regret that you felt, because words had left you. His smile became more broad as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and held you closely for a moment, then leaned away, walking backward, looking at you and waving toward you, before turning around and walking away down the hallway.

No words were needed. It was enough to Harry that you had come to show your support to him, knowing that you wouldn’t have done that if you were still angry. You knew Harry was never angry with you over the situation, or his need to break up with you. Maybe now you could rest in knowing there were no hard feelings.

Maybe letting go of Harry wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

anonymous asked:

i just realized what would eventually be a big (and oh so very human) problem in the post-war society. copyright claims. the rate of yeerk infestation among musicians, showwriters, and authors must be quite high as they're prominent and influential and their work reaches a big audience. but who do the works produced by a controller actually belong to? the yeerk? the human? how do you even prove who the idea originally belonged to? let's face it: people would sue for that.

Honestly I don’t foresee it being a problem at all, for several super-cynical reasons.

  • First of all, do we ever see any alien species put out work that any other species considers ‘art’?  Ax alludes to a bunch of different andalite jokes that mostly fly over his human friends’ heads, Dak Hamee describes some of the hork-bajir communication as ‘music’ whereas Aldrea considers it ‘noise,’ the andalites have a bunch of artistic structures on their Dome ships that to the Animorphs and Loren just look like trees near ponds, and if humans and hork-bajir ever manage to share any kind of artistic experience during those ~4 months they’re living together near the end of the war we never hear about it (#49-#54).  Similarly, most aliens don’t seem to get human culture: Ax loves “these messages” and says “[human music] is awful. All of it” (#8).  Yeerks probably have their own art forms, but Visser One describes television as “artifice and deception” and music as “screaming” (Visser).  We rarely see controllers watching or reading stories unless it’s as a cover for something else, never hear them listen to music, and the only mention of television in a yeerk-runs setting are the human voluntary hosts watching a human sitcom while their yeerks feed (#1).  Even Elfangor, who is the biggest human-culture nut in the series (and a little bit of a weirdo for it, Andalite Chronicles strongly implies) thinks cigarette ads are more beautiful than the actual content of magazines.  This motif actually makes a ton of sense when you think about it, because there’s no reason that extremely different cultures would have similar enough music for cross-pollination to occur.  As it is, there are tons of jokes and songs and shows within human cultures that get labeled as “I guess you have to be American [Japanese, Irish, etc] in order to find it funny,” and that’s just within cultures on the same planet.  Standards of taste vary by geography, and there is a LOT of geography separating the alien species in this series. Anywhoo, it would strike me as relatively unrealistic within the series as a whole and within our knowledge of sociology for a yeerk to put out something that many humans consider art.  
  • Secondly, this question raises a lot of bigger (messier) questions about the respective power dynamics of the yeerks and human hosts after the war.  We never know a single goshdarn thing about what happens to the yeerks after their surrender, so this is all speculation, but… The human hosts are the ingroup.  The yeerk invaders are the outgroup.  The humans win; the yeerks lose.  There are five billion humans on the planet at the time, and maybe 100,000 yeerks.  All of those factors suggest that the yeerks are going to be awfully low on the pecking order of human society, if they’re in communication with human society at all.  There are other possibilities, including them being moved “elsewhere” on Earth as the taxxons are, including them being culturally annihilated, including them being barred from mainstream communication.  Let’s assume for a moment, though, that they simply go to live among the humans.  (I consider that possibility wildly unrealistic, for reasons I outline here, and no I’m not discussing it anymore for reasons I outline here.) They’re still a group of outsiders who have an extremely nasty cultural history with the humans.  When these kinds of questions arise, it tends to be the individual with more cultural power that wins: we talk about “Watson and Crick’s Theory of DNA” even though they blatantly stole from Rosalind Franklin because the alternative would be respecting women in science, about “Darwinism” not “Wallaceism” because although those two genuinely discovered approximately the same concept at the same time Darwin had better social connections, and about Archimedes more than Hypatia because Hypatia was yet another woman with power violently erased from math texts for millennia.  AND THOSE ARE JUST THE ONES WE KNOW ABOUT. Historians have hypothesized that entire libraries’ worth of literature both scientific and artistic have been published by women using their husbands’ names, people of color using white fronters, and otherwise disenfranchised geniuses forced to rely on better-connected backers.  Anywhoo, I honestly don’t think there would be a fight even if a yeerk did make art, because I’m pretty sure the human would win.
  • Third: let’s talk war reparations.  Humans tend to suck at them, and tend to prefer revenge to reconstruction, but generally speaking people tend to try to help other people who have suffered as a result of war (as long as it comes at minimal inconvenience to themselves, of course) which is why we’ve got the G.I. Bill in the U.S., which is why Germany has outlawed NeoNaziism, and which is why the phrase “never again” strikes such a chord with so many groups.  Ergo, assuming that the war happened and the humans came out the other side, it’s probably safe to say that the humans are at least making a half-assed effort to acknowledge that “oh lord what the yeerks did was OBJECTIVELY TERRIBLE” and therefore would probably just err on the side of granting rights to the humans.  
  • Fourth, copyright law might not work like that.  Now, I don’t know shit about copyright law, but what I do know is that once a copyright has been filed and is on record, it’s heckin hard to get that copyright changed.  Generally it would involve a GINORMOUS civil case and some really strong evidence that someone currently uncredited with a particular output definitely inarguably beyondallreasonabledoubtedly contributed to the process of creating that output.  The few cases of Person A suing Person B for rights to a piece of art that I’ve ever read about have tended to go with the “Possession is nine-tenths of the law” principle (AKA if Person A’s name is on the piece of art then everyone defaults to assuming it belongs to Person A) with a side of “Can we all just exchange money and stop fighting?” (AKA everyone loves out-of-court settlements because generally speaking everyone benefits).  So if a yeerk was challenging a human over the rights to a piece of art that would have the human’s name on it anyway (because yeerks putting out art in their own names that would be recognized by humans enough to have legal issues would be hella suspicious), and if the human and the yeerk were both like “dude, I wrote this”…. Then I would assume that 99.99% of cases would end with the judge being like “go away and stop wasting my time, yeerk claimant,” or saying “take a little money and then go away, yeerk claimant” and at some point there would be enough precedent that the yeerks would get screwed.  
  • Fifth… Sorry to the yeerk fans of the world, but I don’t give a crap if the yeerks do get screwed.  If the host was voluntary and working with the yeerk to put out art, then there shouldn’t be an issue.  If the host was enslaved to the yeerk and being used as a puppet to make stuff the yeerk wanted to make, then the yeerk kinda deserves to get screwed out of anything they used a slave to make.  

Tl;dr: The issue of copyrighting assumes a) that yeerks put out art humans can appreciate, b) that yeerks have enough status in human society post-war to even attempt any claims, c) that any judge wouldn’t just say “the human deserves the rights” and call it a day, d) that there’s enough ambiguity left in the authorship of a piece of art with the human’s name on it to create space for conflict, and e) that there would be any “justice” in letting an involuntary host and a human-assaulting yeerk share credit for a work.  I’m not sure any of those assumptions is necessarily backed by sociology, history, jurisprudence, or the Word of Our God and Savior K.A. Applegate.

Starlight, Star bright, First Star I See Tonight...

Rose Tyler’s having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.  Lying under the stars, wishing for something better, a strange woman tells her not to give up.

For @doctorroseprompts sleeping under stars, even though they’re not sleeping.  But it’s 13 and Rose, so it evens out?


Lying on a bench at the edge of the basketball court, looking up at the sky with only a thin blanket to keep her warm, eighteen year old Rose Tyler treasured her solitude. Her day had started bad with a missed alarm, and got worse from there.  After a shouting match with her mother, she’d grabbed her favorite blanket and headed outside.  Given that it was late February, she was alone with her thoughts.

Staring up at the sky, she couldn’t help but wish for something better.

Keep reading

Long rant about some people on tumblr (Because not all of tumblr thinks the same.)

Hello. I am a 14-year-old white “cis” female. Why did I put “cis” in quotes? Because you wouldn’t say “cis” to people you introduce yourself to in the real world. Not normally, anyway. Buckle up, individuals, because I can talk about topics like this for a LONG time. (Sidenote: Yes this will be an opinion. No I do not believe this opinion is ideal for EVERYONE.)

So let’s start off with how I myself was introduced to these said topics; I was walking to school with a friend I haven’t seen or heard from in two years and we were friends for 4 years. They (as requested I call them their proper pronoun) wanted to strike a conversation and we were talking about cartoons (This was back in August). I was talking about Gravity Falls and they got a little if not very upset that I liked the show. They kept on trying to ask questions like, “You know that show is white-washed?” or “You do know that Alex Hirsch is a racist pig, right?” I had to stop myself because (Friend), who rarely ever spoke about people in a negative way, has done just that. I asked them, “Excuse me? How?” I was genuinely asking and they told me “He tweeted something a while ago that ‘The person who invented the word ‘bae’ should be shot.’ The word ‘bae’ comes from black culture and therefore is racist!” Now me being me I was very curious and I wanted to see it for myself. “Where can I find the tweet?” I ask and they reply, “Just– Don’t even try. You won’t know what to look for. God, you’re so stupid! He’s just like every other white man!” At this point I was already sleep deprived enough and curious enough to ask, “’All white men’?” They got so passionate about what they were talking about all of a sudden. “Yes! All white men are TERRIBLE! They all treat women badly, they’re all racist pigs, and they’re all products of Hitler!” I was taken by surprise on the Hitler part. “Not all men are bad, though… A man (a doctor) saved my life when I was little when I failed to thrive–” “Oh my GOD shut up! I’m Jewish and you defending the spawns of Hitler offends me greatly!” I was silent for the rest of the way to school. 

I remember thinking “This is so weird!” Until we got in arguments over things like if I defended men, we weren’t friends or if I didn’t like Britney Spears, we weren’t friends. (I don’t like a certain artist. Chill.) So I haven’t spoken to them in a while. Another thing is that my WHITE older sister keeps saying things to my mother like “Dad’s just another old bitter white man.” or “We only have white people food.” A 19-year-old woman. 


You most likely aren’t an anti-feminist (because feminism is equality) you’re most likely anti-misandry (misandry is hate or strong dislike towards men)

There is no such thing as “reverse” racism. It’s racism. Discrimination or strong dislike of a particular race. 

Please PLEASE if you try arguing don’t use references from the days when whites owned blacks as slaves or when Hitler was still alive or anything like that! A great deal of those points you’re trying to make are probably not relevant anymore and you need better citation!

“Down With The Cis” people, read carefully as I type; Not all cis people are what you think they are. A lot of us are very careful when addressing you because we do not want to offend you! Just because some people on tumblr have told you to think this way or you think that way on your own will because of what you see on tumblr or anywhere else doesn’t mean you have to think that way! Wouldn’t you rather treat someone nicely and have them feel bad for treating you badly/ and have them give you a chance then to just hate and put yourself in a position you’re only going to regret later on?

Just because someone from a specific ethnic group/race/gender/sexuality killed, harmed, terrorized, or negatively impacted on your specific ethnic group/race/gender/sexuality doesn’t mean you have to lash out at people with similar (etc) as the ones who’ve negatively impacted your (etc).

No, doctors do NOT make up illnesses or diagnostics just to make a certain group feel oppressed. They went through eight years of college to HELP people. Not kill people in hate.

Please if you disagree with someone on views respectfully have a conversation with the person. Same goes if you’re offended, respectfully tell them to stop what they’re doing that is upsetting you. Also it wouldn’t hurt to know if they meant it or not, as they say, “Assuming just makes an ASS out of U and ME.”

I know I’ll get sneers and noses turned up at me. It doesn’t bother me that someone has different views than me. It only gets to that point when it hurts a vast majority of people or if a whole group is terrorizing one singular individual. 

Please remember there are kids SMALLER THAN ME on here that are very impressionable. Instead of teaching them to hate anyone or themselves for being themselves, teach them how to love their caretakers, teach them how to ask for help when they need it, teach them how to love their body and be humble and love others and teach others to love one another.

You know what? Listing my views:

If you’re trans, great!

If you’re “cis”, great!

If you’re hetero, great!

If you’re anything else on the spectrum of gender roles, sexuality, or romance, great!

If you’re not anything on the spectrum of gender roles, sexuality, or romance, great!

If you’re an individual human being who has the ability to love, care for, be positive towards, or be happy with other people, great! 

If you hate a specific group, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, race, etc, not great and I won’t tell you how to live your life BUT please do not force your views on other individuals! We all have opinions, boundaries, identities, etc, and there’s a really good reason for that! It would be a really BORING world with one race, one gender, one sexuality, etc. Why would you do it? Why would you force opinions or anything else on anyone?

I’m probably one of a few thousand individuals on tumblr who feel the same but not the exact same. I don’t post myself talking or ranting or myself doing anything normally but I feel like this should be established between the follower and the followed. 

I’m not just some tiny white teenage girl typing at her computer in rage, I am a human typing out my views on a computer for people to see and ponder on. Give it some thought, maybe. Ask questions, it’s okay. Tell me your views and why you think a particular way. We all have a voice, yo, and I think this is the time to let that voice speak.

The day after... What? (Part1)

Summary: You wake up to unpleasant feelings and not exactly where you supposed to be.

Pairing: reader x Mjolnir (platonic, just an academic thing), for something a little more serious it’s needed a little more time but there’s, definitely, going to be something ;-)

Warnings: swearing, hangover symptoms, a little panic, that’s all… I think.

Notes: That’s my first Marvel fanfiction. To be specific this is just the intro. I meant to make the whole story in just one post but I’m afraid it’s going to be longer than I first thought and, to say the truth, it’s a bit demanding under the point of view of the writing (it’s taking me ages) so I have decided to split it up in multiple parts. Please leave some feedback, any critic will be well accepted so comment please. (And, really, let me know if the language is intelligible).

Word count: 714 (I know it’s quite short, hopefully next will be longer.)

Originally posted by chanxbaby

Your head is buzzing. One eye slightly tries to open: why the hell there is so much light? I’ll be blind for a week! Eyes close tightly. A hand on your forehead: oh god, I’ve lost sensibility on my hand! No wait, that’s not my hand. Something really warm is wrapped around your thighs: too many blankets, kick them away. Something grunted at your kick. Blankets don’t grunt. Something terribly heavy is strapped around your left wrist. Something under you is… is breathing. What the hell is going on? Panic insinuates in you. Your eyes wide open. Too much light. Doesn’t matter. I need to see. Your sight slowly adapting at the morning light.

A white ceiling is staring back to you. Ok, that’s normal. But why so much light? You lower your eyes inspecting the room. Oh, that’s why. A whole wall of glass, the sun high in a clean light blue sky. This is not my room. Have I fallen asleep at the university? The room is big, or at least you think so: a sofa to your right prevents you from seeing any further, while on the left a gigantic TV screen is playing reruns of your favorite cartoon series (but the audio has been turned off). That’s weird, and definitely not the university center. Then your look falls on yourself, or better on the intricate mass of bodies in which you were sleeping. What?! Focus… and try to make a point of this situation. The thing breathing under you is actually a girl, probably around your age, long brown hair flowing past her shoulders. The hand on your forehead seems to belong to her too. Slowly your attention shifts to the thing wrapped around your legs. Isn’t exactly a thing. From your point of view you can’t see much but it looks like a full head of a very dark shade of brown hair, followed by big muscular arms in a red shirt. You slightly turn your head to see what is strapped at your left wrist when suddenly a sparkle brings your attention back to whoever is holding your thighs. A silvery looking hand. Your heart speeds up a little bit. Head jerking back to check once again the girl. It can’t be. Pillows on the sofa moving to show a red haired woman. Oh shit, it is.

Completely forgetful of the heavy item strapped at your wrist, you escape the hold of “that should be Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes”, try to stand up and step away only to be pulled down by your wrist and stumble upon someone else. Your wrist finally slips out of the strap and you end up crashing loudly against a little cabinet under the TV.

The whole room seems to move and now six alarmed figures are staring at you. The only thing remained immobile is the heavy object attached at the string just slipped from your wrist: Mjolnir, obviously. Oh fuck, that thing is amazing. Look at it! Thousands years of battles and not even a tiny little scratch! No questions why they used to bring little hammer pendants as amulets! Be as Mjolnir and you’re good for eternity! It’s fucking perfect. Snorri, shut up! Don’t fuss about the handle too short bla, bla, bla! That thing is just perfect! I could stay here staring at it for the next eternity and never grow bored! However, you can’t keep staring. Your head is still buzzing, and it feels like if a rave has just been thrown in it without your permission. Yet, you can feel six pair of eyes burning holes through you. Clumsily you try to stand on your feet and, surprisingly, you succeed. Your mouth feels like desert, you’d like a glass of water but… no time to waste. I have to do my move before they do theirs or probably I’m dead.

— Why am I here? — that’s the best you can pull out, your voice is harsh and an octave lower than usual but, at least, isn’t broken.

— That’s a good question! But it should be us asking it. See, technically, this is our house and you’re the intruder. — says lightly the handsome man upon whom you’ve stumble few seconds earlier. You can bet he is Samuel Thomas Wilson.

Hillary Clinton said deplorable

Donald Trump has said:

  • Barack Obama was not born in the United States
  • Muslims should be banned from entering the United States
  • Part of the beauty of me is that I’m very rich
  • Called women “fat pigs”
  • Mocked a disabled reporter
  • Said he would force the military to commit war crimes
  • Proposed to create a data base to track Muslims
  • Said must strongly consider shutting down Mosques
  • Repeatedly praises Vladimir Putin
  • Congratulated himself on statements regarding Islam after the shooting in Orlando at Pulse nightclub
  • Said a judge born in the United States to parents of Mexican heritage could not be impartial
  • “He’s not a war hero,” Trump said. “He’s a war hero because he was captured. I like people that weren’t captured.” (referring to John McCain)
  • “You know, it really doesn’t matter what the media write as long as you’ve got a young, and beautiful, piece of ass.”
  • “All I know is what’s on the Internet.” (That’s what you want to hear from a Presidential candidate)
  • “When Mexico sends its people, they’re not sending the best. They’re not sending you, they’re sending people that have lots of problems and they’re bringing those problems with us. They’re bringing drugs. They’re bring crime. They’re rapists… And some, I assume, are good people.”
  • “Our great African-American President hasn’t exactly had a positive impact on the thugs who are so happily and openly destroying Baltimore.” 
  • “I’ve said if Ivanka weren’t my daughter, perhaps I’d be dating her.” 
  • “I have never seen a thin person drinking Diet Coke.” 
  • “The point is, you can never be too greedy." 
  • "If Hillary Clinton can’t satisfy her husband what makes her think she can satisfy America?”
  • “I would bring back waterboarding and I’d bring back a hell of a lot worse than waterboarding.“ 
  • "You could see there was blood coming out of her eyes, blood coming out of her wherever. In my opinion, she was off-base.” (Talking about Megyn Kelly)
  • “Look at that face! Would anyone vote for that? Can you imagine that — the face of our next president!?” (Talking about Carly Fiorina)
  • “I think — I think, for me, nuclear is just the power, the devastation is very important to me." 
  • "They said, ‘Mr. Trump, there may be someone with tomatoes in the audience.’ So if you see somebody getting ready to throw a tomato, knock the crap out of them, would you? Seriously. Okay? Just knock the hell — I promise you, I will pay the legal fees." 
  • "She just said a terrible thing. You know what she said? Shout it out. [Audience member shouts.] Okay, you’re not allowed to say, and I never expect to hear that from you again. She said — I never expect to hear that from you again! — she said: 'He’s a pussy.’ That’s terrible.” (Even Trump’s wife scolded him for this comment)
  • “There’s a guy, totally disruptive, throwing punches; we’re not allowed to punch back anymore. I love the old days. You know what they used to do to guys like that when they were in a place like this? They’d be carried out on a stretcher, folks."  (Lynch mobs are what he is referring to)
  • "If I become president, oh, do they [the New York Times and The Washington Post] have problems. They’re going to have such problems. And one of the things I’m going to do — and this is only going to make it tougher for me, and I’ve never said this before — but one of the things I’m gonna do if I win — and I hope I do, and we’re certainly leading — is I’m going to open up our libel laws so when they write purposely negative and horrible and false articles, we can sue them and win lots of money." 
  • "He referred to my hands. If they are small, something else must be small. I guarantee you there is no problem. I guarantee." 
  • "The answer is that there has to be some form of punishment. There has to be some form.”  (Referring to women who may have an illegal abortion)
  • "Black guys counting my money! I hate it. The only kind of people I want counting my money are little short guys that wear yarmulkes every day." 
  • "Laziness is a trait in blacks." 
  • "A well-educated black has a tremendous advantage over a well-educated white in terms of the job market. I think sometimes a black may think they don’t have an advantage or this and that… if I were starting off today, I would love to be a well-educated black." 
  • "The concept of global warming was created by and for the Chinese in order to make U.S. manufacturing non-competitive.”
  • “ 26,000 unreported sexual assults in the military-only 238 convictions. What did these geniuses expect when they put men & women together?” 
  • “It must be a pretty picture, you dropping to your knees.” 
  • Praised North Korean dictator Kim Jong Un
  • “I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody, and I wouldn’t lose voters”
  • Repeatedly claims to have donated millions of dollars to charity, but no one can find evidence of the donations
  • “Who the f knows? I mean, really, who knows how much the Japs will pay for Manhattan property these days?” 
  • You have to treat women like shit
  • “When a man leaves a woman, especially when it was perceived that he has left for a piece of ass—a good one!— there are 50 percent of the population who will love the woman who was left.” 
  • “I will build a great wall — and nobody builds walls better than me, believe me —and I’ll build them very inexpensively. I will build a great, great wall on our southern border, and I will make Mexico pay for that wall. Mark my words.” 
  • “Jeb Bush has to like the Mexican illegals because of his wife.” 
  • “Maybe [the protester] should have been roughed up. It was absolutely disgusting what he was doing.” 
  • “If you look at his wife, she was standing there. She had nothing to say. She probably, maybe she wasn’t allowed to have anything to say. You tell me. But a plenty of people have written that. She was extremely quiet, and it looked like she had nothing to say. A lot of people have said that.” (Referring to the Kahn family)
  • “Hillary wants to abolish, essentially abolish the Second Amendment. And by the way, if she gets to pick her judges, nothing you can do, folks. Although the Second Amendment people, maybe there is, I don’t know.” 
  • “No, I’m not into anal.” 
  • “Sorry losers and haters, but my I.Q. is one of the highest -and you all know it! Please don’t feel so stupid or insecure, it’s not your fault”

I could go on, but there aren’t enough hours in the day.