this was all i could cap with my phone

From the Dining Table, Pt. 1 (Ethan)

Summary: Before moving out of the home you once shared with your fame hungry ex-boyfriend, you sit down to write him a letter, explaining to him why you left and where to find you if he ever comes to look for you.

Word Count: 2,352

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: This idea hit me in the middle of the night while listening to Harry Styles’ new album, specifically the last song entitled “From the Dining Table.” I highly recommend you listen to the song while reading this imagine for the full effect. I also apologize in advance if I make anyone feel things; writing this had me feeling all the things. I might turn this into a mini-series if it gets enough love, so please enjoy! Requests are open!

“I honestly never thought this day would come, Mom.” You grab the last of the pictures of you and your ex-boyfriend sitting on the dresser and throw them into a cardboard box in the entrance of the bedroom. “I’m moving out of the house I shared with the person I thought I was going to marry, and he doesn’t even know I’m leaving. Do you hear how twisted that sounds?”

Your mom places the rest of your t-shirts into the open suitcase on the floor. “Honey, you can’t predict the future. You didn’t know he was going to turn out to be this way.”

“We’ve been friends since we were in diapers, Mom. Nothing about him or the way he was raised would have indicated that this would have happened. He used to just be a goofy kid with a camera… What happened?”

She stands up to zip the suitcase. “I don’t know, but you’ve been turning that over in your head for God knows how long now. Haven’t you tortured yourself enough?”

“Hasn’t he tortured me enough?”

The both of you sigh and your stomach begins to twist. You pick up the cardboard box and a couple of tote bags laying around, following your mom as she drags the suitcase out into the dining room, the wheels echoing through the nearly empty house as they click on the wooden floor.

“Y/N, fame changes people. I just hope for his own good that one day he realizes what he truly lost… Okay, do we have everything?”

You shift from one foot to the other, trying to subdue the pain in your abdomen that’s only growing. “Yeah, I think so. My clothes are all packed, the electricity will be shut off by the city tonight, my pictures are all put away, and we loaded all the furniture into the truck yesterday.”

“All, except the table,” she notes.

“Yeah, that’s not mine. I’m leaving it for…” you trail off as you glance at the surface, remembering the notebook and pens you packed in one of your totes.

“Hey Mom, why don’t you take the rest of this stuff? I’ll be outside in a second, I just have something I want to do, first.”

“Okay, but don’t take too long. I want to ride the daylight out as much as possible. You know I have a hard time driving at night.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

Your mom takes the box from you before pushing it and the suitcase out the door. She shuts it behind her while you pull your stationary out from one of the bags, setting it on the table. You take off the cap of your pen, breathing deeply before pressing it to the paper:

 I don’t want to be angry with you anymore, Ethan, but I am. I’m so god damn angry.

I want to live my life and not think about you or hear your laugh everywhere I go. I want to look in the mirror and see my face again instead of yours. I regret cutting all my hair off just so I could look like you. I wish I had the power to delete our song off of my phone. I wish I wasn’t slumped over the dining room table, crying while I was writing this.

You’re so selfish that it makes me sick. The very first night I met you, I didn’t know I’d grow up to consider you my best friend. I never expected to become this attached to you. But, fast forward to the day you left me: when you walked out the door, you took the oxygen from my lungs.

You’re just a set of bones and a beating heart. How did you mess me up so bad?

I was such a fool to think you’d adhere to your resolution to live as normal of a life as possible. You used to know that life has so much more to offer than posting moody pictures on Instagram and hoping it gets over 500,000 likes or ignoring the people who built you up because it makes you feel powerful. What you’ve become absolutely disgusts me, and the worst part of it all is that you don’t even know what the time apart has done to me. I never got to celebrate your birthday with you, something that was a dream of ours to do together. I couldn’t give you Christmas presents this year. I couldn’t sit with you and your family while they grilled hot dogs in your back yard on the Fourth of July. I couldn’t do any of this because you only think of yourself anymore. It’s like you’ve completely forgotten about me.

Right before your departure, you told me you’d come back for me. You said you would text and call whenever you could until we would see each other again in person. I got your first text soon after, and for a while it felt like we were never apart; it felt like the oxygen in my lungs was restored. You’d call me after every show and every promotional event, so excited and in awe that you couldn’t wait to tell me about everything that happened. As time went on though, with the more people you met and the higher you climbed up the ladder, the texts became fewer and farther in between. My phone rang less often until it stopped ringing all together. You didn’t text me anymore. I had to learn about everything you were doing through friends and social media. I can’t count the number of voicemails I left you, afraid that I smothered you and apologizing for being the reason you pushed me away. I know now that it had absolutely nothing to do with me, but I can’t help but hope that one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry, too. It never happens, though. You never do.

You friends tell me that this is normal, that getting through the separation anxiety is the worst part. But, let me ask you this: Was it normal for me to curl up in the fetal position in the middle of the hallway after you walked out of the door? Was it normal for me not to sleep a wink after you were gone? I would scream into the dark of night, begging for you to come back. I would pray for you, and you know how I feel about religion. Praying was something you did before every meal and every night before bedtime. I would watch you clasp your hands together and close your eyes while your lips gracefully moved to form silent requests of peace, grace, and mercy. Do you remember when you asked me about religion? I pressed my lips into a hard line, squeezing my hands together so tightly that I lost feeling within seconds. I did it though, I got down on my knees by my bedside hoping that you would be able to hear me through whatever kind of higher power you believed in. It turns out I was wrong.

Let me tell you that if God does exist, He’s a vulture. He’s completely unfair. The kind of lives He had in store for both of us was cruel and downright disgusting; He chose me for endless suffering and He chose you to poison the lives of everyone you meet. So much for being a good guy, huh?

The worst part of all of this is the fact that despite my anger and resentment towards your addiction to fame and how you chose it over me, you’ve taught me more than I could have ever imagined. It makes me sad, but one of those lessons is the fact that once people are broken in certain ways, they can’t be fixed. This is something that no one ever tells you when you’re young; it never fails to surprise me when I look around and see people close to me breaking one by one. I should probably get it in my head. I saw it happen to you and then I felt it happen to me. I did almost everything to try and heal the resulting pain, including hurting myself in ungodly disturbing ways. I didn’t, however sleep with strangers and then leave them in the cold like the tabloids said you did.

But, see, even if I did such an ugly, terrible thing, those people would never fill this hole. I’m always going to want you. I’m always going to choose you.

I hate myself for that. I hate that I can be so angry and so vicious toward what you’ve become, but at the end of the night I lay in bed knowing I’m always going to be waiting for you. I can lie to myself all I want about it and yet I still find myself walking around every day thinking about how different circumstances would be if you were by my side at any particular moment. I tell myself to avoid everything that reminds me of you; instead I expose myself to those things even more because I don’t know how to live without the hole in my chest anymore. I can easily say I’ve failed at attempting to get over you and I don’t want to make any more attempts. The only way I can carry you with me now is by carrying the pain of you not being with me. The pain has been there for two years, five months, three weeks, and two days. This is the only way I know how to live now.

But, above all else, the one thing I desperately need you to know is that even before my anger, pity, and resentment, if you ever end up calling me again, even if it’s at 4 AM and you’re too sad to say a word, I won’t yell at you about how much of my life you’ve consumed. Rather, I will intently listen to your silence until you’re able to fall asleep again. If you need to cry, I won’t wipe away your tears because we’re only human and sometimes tears are the closest we can get to laughter and that’s okay. If you need to yell so ferociously that your voice gives out and your knees fail you, I’ll be there to hold you up and I’ll yell with you to make you feel less alone. If you get so angry that you punch your hands raw, I will ice your knuckles and gently remind you that wounds do eventually heal, both inside and out, just like the way harsh winters give way to warm springs. I will be your warm spring again, and I will do all of this because I love you unconditionally, even when you spite me and drive me insane. Sometimes I think I’d be better off dead than putting up with everything that comes with you, and I hate the fact that I don’t hate you. I just love you. My love is over, underneath, inside, and in between all the struggles that we have faced.

Now, I’m begging you, Ethan. If you ever decide to come look for me, I’ve left California; I can’t live in a place that feels so artificial anymore. I’m going back to the beginning, the place where you and I planted our roots, where we ran around in the sprinklers in the summer and made snow angels in the winter, where we tossed our high school graduation caps in the air and took weekend trips driving into the city. I’m going back to the place where I can find myself again. If you ever decide to come look for me, I’ll be waiting for you there.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you fold the piece of paper down in thirds before placing it in an envelope and sloppily addressing it with an “E”. A horn honks outside, cueing you to grab the last of your bags and place the letter in the middle of the table. As you approach the front door, you turn around to take in the empty house one last time. All of the memories you and Ethan shared together here begin to dance in front of your eyes and you sigh to yourself, grateful that they’re going to stay with you for the rest of your life, but heartbroken you have to leave this behind. Finally, you step out onto the front porch and lock the door behind you.

“Alright, I’m good. I’ve got everything,” you grunt as you climb into the passenger seat of the moving van, tossing the bags behind you.

Your mom reaches over from the driver’s side to place her hand on your cheek. “You are such a brave girl. I am so proud of you for starting to let go.”

You close your eyes and place a hand on her wrist. “Thanks, Mom. Can we please go now, though, before I get too sentimental? I don’t want to cry anymore. My lungs already hurt too much.”

The both of you let go of each other to click your seat belts in place, and as your mom pulls the truck out of the neighborhood and onto the highway, you roll the windows down and turn on the radio. After several minutes of humming along to the music and getting lost in your own thoughts, your mom’s voice startles you.

“Do you think he’ll ever come back?”

You shift in your seat, unsure how to answer. “It’s been over two years, Mom.”

“What if he decides to come back to the house and you’re not there?”

“He has a key. He can get in.”

“But you won’t be there.”

You pause for a moment. “No, I won’t be. But I have a feeling that if he ever comes across what I left for him, he’ll know exactly where to find me.”

“And where’s that?”

You glance out the window, the vast, California landscape speeding by you as you head for the state line. The two of you have a long drive ahead of you back to the East Coast, almost 2,800 miles.

“Home. I told him to come home.”

Gallon Challenge – I almost died!! *NOT clickbait*

this was kinda inspired by @potato-fan-girl ’s youtuber au, so you should go read that shit too

if you couldn’t already tell by the title, vomit tw. you’ve been warned!

“Alright Keith, we rolling? Nice and live?” He questions, earning a nod and thumbs up from the boy holding his camera for him as they sat in the empty parking lot.

“Sweet. Hey, guys! So you’ve all been requesting this, and since I don’t want something so gross permanently on my channel, I decided to live stream it instead!” Lance laughs a bit when Keith rolls his eyes at him, one arm crossed over his chest.

“You do realize people are probably recording this somehow right?” He retorts, to which Lance just waves him off and picks up his huge gallon of milk.

“Anyways, I decided to take you all up on the gallon challenge! Where I’ll have one hour to try and finish this whole gallon of milk.”

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Eat all my food while I fix your phone? Have fun explaining this one...

I used to work for the largest company in the world (by market cap) and know quite a bit about their electronic gadgets. This has earned me the unfortunate family title as tech support for all things Fruit related.

Last week, I received a call from my brother asking if I could fix his friend’s phone as it was acting weirdly. I told him to come by my place and I would get it sorted out. Well, this friend of my brothers is 16, and kind of a little douche (LD). He also smokes far too much weed to ever be healthy (nothing against the stuff, but seriously… Too much is too much). Anyways, they come by stoned out of their mind right as I finish making myself some delicious baked spaghetti for dinner.

I proceed to update his phone to the new OS and fix his issues (which was an app that required an update to the latest OS version to work properly) and all is ready to go. I come back to find my baked spaghetti completely devoured by LD while my brother was playing video games in the living room.
You motherfucker.

So I went into the settings and now his phone autocorrects ‘tired’ to 'high’ every time he types it in. That way, every time he types “I am too tired” it becomes “I am too high” etc. Give him the phone back and say all is fixed.
Two days later I get a text message asking wtf, because his friend is grounded for telling his parents he was too high to go to a family dinner.
Never. Eat. My. Goddamn. Spaghetti.

Petty Revenge: Your daily dose of the best petty revenge stories. | source

What A Weird Relationship (5/5) - Peter Parker x (f)Reader x Brother!Stark

Originally posted by thunderbirdthor

Words: 1862
Pairing: Peter Parker x (f)Reader x Brother!Stark
Featuring: James Rhodes, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Scott Lang, Wanda Maximoff, Bucku Barnes, Natasha Romanoff, Vision, Bruce Banner
Warnings: sadness, hurt
Requested: 1000 follower special!! Which is kinda crazy because I just hit 1500…THANK YOU GUYS!
Author’s Note: last part! Maybe an extra part for like after this? If it’s wanted, feel free to request! { @canon-is-drarry @im-melancholic @marvelousimaginesforyou @starkingdom }

One Two Three Four Five Six


“You really should get some sleep.” Rhodey walked up behind Tony, who was sitting on the steps outside of the Facility.

“You need to stop telling me that. I can’t.” Tony replied. “I’m too worried about her…I need to make sure she comes back. Safe.” He sighed, a yawn coming out.

Rhodey sat down next to him. “What are you doing?” Tony asked.

“I’m going to wait with you, too. I care about the both of you.” He smiled.

Tony smiled back and pushed Rhodey’s shoulder. “So, when are you going to talk about having Stark officially become her last name?”

Tony sighed. “Well,”

Everyone on Team Cap was worrying their asses off.

“We need to get her back to Mr. Stark, right away!” Peter yelled.

“Wanda, have you ever had anything happen like this?” Steve asked.

“No, not even when it just happened to her. I’ll read her…” She whispered.

“Should I call Mr. Stark?” Peter asked.

“No, kid, he can’t know she’s with us. He’d kill me.” Steve grumbled.

Clint was standing next to your unconscious body, monitoring you.

“Agh!” Wanda yelled. “I can’t get into her mind, it hurts too much…someone’s trying to take control of her powers.” She said.

“Try and wake her up, I’m going to go get our jet. Buck, come with me.” Steve said and walked out of the base.

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Grand Tour, Alex Lacamoire x Reader

Prompt: Alex admits he’s never been to San Francisco before, you give him a grand tour.

Words: 1,108

Author’s Note: I’ve actually only been to SF like…twice. Even though I only live like an hour and a half away. I just really like writing for Lac, alright?

Warnings: Nada! Happiness to make up for the angst I put you through yesterday.

Askbox | Masterlist | HamWriters write-a-thon | My fics from this week!

Waking up to an early morning text in all caps was never a settling feeling Your stomach stirred as you swiped on your phone to read the urgent message from Alex.


A schedule change, you could deal with that. You let out a breath of relief before sending a confirmation, adjusting your schedule in your head to accommodate the sudden change.

Why Alex would need everybody in the theater an hour earlier was beyond you - the cast was already pushing past eight hour rehearsals most days. The breakneck rehearsal process was stretching you thin, but you enjoyed every minute of it.

You had been casual acquaintances with Alex for years now - seeing each other in classes at college and occasionally he would be the accompanying pianist in random auditions you would go for.

You came to have a mutual understanding of one another’s presence. He was extremely talented and he promised he thought the world of you. Enough that as soon as you stumbled into the audition room for a Hamilton Tour callback, you were at the top of the list.

A guaranteed spot in the ensemble with an understudy position for the Schuyler Sisters. A role in a show that was sweeping the world and he had to promise a million times that it wasn’t a favor.

Still, the rest of the cast could see the understanding you had. Subtle nudges and knowing winks would throw you for a loop as you moved closer to Alex, a question about a certain note or a harmony you couldn’t quite decipher.

You trudged down to the theater with just enough time to stop for a late breakfast, enough to sustain you until you broke for lunch in a few hours.The lack of chaos was quite noticeable as you shrugged your had off your shoulder and onto the floor.

“Hello?” You called out into the empty theater, in its final stages of building as the cast and crew transferred from a rehearsal building into the actual space.

The echos of your call sounded back to you. You hesitated for a moment, waiting for a response. A distant twinkling of a piano peaked your interest. You descended the stairs, your belongings forgotten on the floor as you tried to make out the tune.

You grinned when the notes strung together to form the familiar song. Walking past the stage and towards the offices, you took the familiar trek to the first office. Half empty with a piano tucked in the corner, it was designated Alex’s for the time being.

His head was tucked down, curls bouncing as his eyes scanned the sheet music before him.

Oh my man I love him so-” You drawled, startling him, hands retreating from the piano.

He swiveled on the piano bench, grinning at the early morning sight of you. you were clad in your usual rehearsal attire, nice athletic pants and a loose fitting top. Hair out of your face, comfortable, well-worn sneakers on your feet.

He had to collect himself before being able to greet you properly. 

“Morning.” He settled on. Simple, straight to the point, he avoided eye contact as he turned back to the keys. He nodded for you to continue.

He’ll never know.” You sang along as his hands resumed their movements, gracefully dancing across the ivory keys.

He took this opportunity to steal a few glances your way as you settled into his office chair, absorbed in the song. With your eyes closed, he could inspect your face for a moment longer than he normally would permit himself.

Your brow furrowed as your voice dipped, grinning at the extra work he did on the keys.

For whatever my man is, I am his. Forever more.” His voice broke as he attempted to belt alongside you. He didn’t quite reach the note, but you smiled as he giggled, knowing he was far from perfect. He didn’t care, he was having fun.

“Thanks for the mini-jam session.” He pushed away from the piano and moved to his desk, cluttered with sheet music. He cradled a Starbucks mug in his hand, the words New York on proud display along a distinct city skyline.

“Now that you’re a West Coast body, you should really switch out the mug.” He inspected it for a moment, hastily turning it in his hands so the words no longer faced your San Francisco loving eyes.

“Sorry, It’s my first trip to the Bay. I’ve been in the theater the entire time.”

He spoke so casually, shrugging as you gaped at him.


“We have to fix this! There are shops and diners and the ocean!” Your mind raced to compile a list of noteworthy spots - many of them nowhere on a tourist pamphlet. “If it weren’t for rehearsal we could hit them all.”

He stiffened at the mention of rehearsal, suddenly rather invested in the idea of alphabetizing the stack of books in the corner of the room.

“Speaking of rehearsal-” He pleaded with you in his mind, hoping you would forget the early morning text he had sent when he was wishing for nothing more than to see your smile uninterrupted by the rest of the cast, “-I notice no one else is here.”

Well, there went that plan.

“Was it just me to get the schedule change?”

“Right! Uh, I just had a note-” He made quick work of fishing out the script from his bag, flipping to a random page that happened to have you on it, “-this harmony.” He returned to the piano as you sang along.

Unfortunately for him, you sang perfectly.

“That’s it? You called me in four hours early for that one harmony?” He fidgeted under your gaze, fingers randomly pressing notes that somehow still sounded flawless under his touch.


With a confirming smile, you stood and gathered his bag, shoving it in his arms as you made your way out of his office.

What - where are we going?” He slung his bag over his shoulder, trailing behind you as he gathered himself.

“We have precisely two and a half hours to squeeze in my favorite record store and lunch spot.” You halted by the door, scooping up your own bag and turning back to Alex. “Unless you don’t want to go to lunch with me?”

“I would very much like to go to lunch with you please.”

You nodded in satisfaction, pushing the doors open triumphantly.

“And maybe we can stop at a Starbucks, the San Francisco mug is much nicer than the New York one.”

He couldn’t find it in himself to argue with you.

Name: Ginny

Age: 18

Location: USA

Occupation: Student


Let’s start with my ukulele. My cousin gave it to me before we went to the US. I always borrowed her sister’s ukulele, and I would record a lot of covers with it. She told me that I should keep recording and playing when I got here. Until one day, days before our flight, she came to our house and gave me a big box. This lil’ ukulele was inside it! I kept saying “Are you for real?!” cause I just couldn’t believe it!

On the top middle is my travel journal. This is a really good find. My aunt bought it for me at Goodwill for $2! I didn’t know what to do with it. I decided to make it a travel journal when I went to California and New York last summer. That little drawing in there shows what I see when I wake up in the morning at my aunt’s apartment in Daly City. Still not finished with the whole journal though. I’m still working on it!

Below that is my Brandy Melville denim jacket! It’s my absolute favorite. As soon as I saw it I told myself that I’m definitely going to get it. Even after I saw how much it was.

On the right are my laptop, phone charger and eyeglasses. My laptop is basically where all the magic happens. I do all my photo and video editing in there. My dad bought it for me, but I paid like less than half of it with the money I earned from selling phone cases. Then there’s my glasses. I just want to say it’s really pretty and it helps me see this beautiful world, lol, but look at my phone charger! It’s so cute! I wrapped my bee washi tape around it!

Lastly, there’s my white embroidered cap. I got it from Ross. I swear to God when I saw it there was light coming down from heaven and I could hear the angels singing. It is such a good find, and it’s cheap! I decided to put it in this picture because I know I’m gonna have a hell lot of adventures with this lil’ guy.

This part always gets me. :( He looks so worried and sad when Genos walks away. Probably thinks Genos won’t want to be with him now that he’s got S and A class hero connections. Probably the saddest thing about it is how casual he acts about it, and then he doesn’t even look super surprised or disappointed- as if he was expecting it all along. Poor egg. And of course we know it was just so Genos could get his stuff… But Saitama doesn’t know it yet. Sorry for the bad screen cap quality. I took these with my phone while watching the Blu Ray. XD


Caught off guard: who startled who  (Part 2 of 2)

“I was standing at the payphones when I was talking to my mom and my friend Brandi Helling..and my friend Brandi hung up the phone she was on and I saw kids running.  I turned and saw a tall man in a trenchcoat with a gun. My friend went running because a teacher grabbed her. I was still on the phone at this time it  was 11:20 am.  I then dropped the phone ran into the bathroom and hid in a stall and then came out later.  I was still hearing gunshots at this time but my mom was still on the phone screaming my name. I told my mom to come get me as I hung up the phone a bullet or shell hit the phone next to me. I took off running. The gunman came outside (the main entrance) and started shooting and went back into the school.

From what the gunman looked like..I saw him very briefly. He was wearing a trenchcoat with a black cap. The gunman was very tall and skinny. The suspect was laughing as he was shooting. He backed away from where I saw him and he saw me..he backed away and all I could see was his arm.”

Note that in Lauren’s state of fight or flight panic with her visual acuity and perception being distorted, her recall of events given on 4/20 describe Dylan to be ‘tall and skinny’ but then guesses him to be 5′8  (!)   This kind of stuff happens all the time with student accounts in the 11k where their recollection is off. She also claims he was shooting with his right hand with a handgun (his Tec 9).  Of course, we know Dylan to be left handed.  It’s quite possible, that Dylan was actually dicking around trying his hand at shooting his Tec rather sloppily using his non-dominant right hand while holding his double-barreled shot gun pointed at the floor in his left hand. Imagine the bullets just inaccurately zinging through the air randomly ricocheting and denting doors, lockers and the  payphone next to Lauren, fleeing students as well as shattering the main entrance front door’s window into an explosive spray of glass shards - all the while he’s laughing his ass off like it’s his death day party.  Dylan’s day of freedom and wild, reckless abandon. Then Lauren (and Brandi) startled him off to his peripheral left momentarily out of his forward focused shoot-out reverie for a brief moment.  In any event the first time Lauren noticed a part of him coming down the hall, she ran in the bathroom and he did not pursue her.

Part 1: Brandi Helling’s account

Status Update

Uh, what’s on my mind?  Fuckin Facebook… uh, let’s see …

Went to a bookstore today.  Sometimes pieces of my old life float to the surface.  I get seized by it, weird, irrational thoughts like I could use a new book or It’s been awhile since I checked out that bookstore.  The urge happens almost too quick for me to realize it, and before I know, I’m walking through the door into the cool air of the bookstore.  New releases are propped up invitingly on small stands.  Beyond, another room is crammed full of books on shelves, spines out, words clamoring to be heard.

I still have a list of books I haven’t read that I want to on my iPhone.  I wander around the stacks, idly flicking through my list.  There’s less now than there was before, and it isn’t because I was able to check them off - it’s because one day, I was looking at my lists and I just suddenly got so pissed off, totally shaking with rage, and swiped angrily to the left - delete function - on entry after entry.  I was left with the few still there, and even just glancing at those caused my body to knot up tight like a fist.  I put my phone back in the pocket of my gym shorts and stretched out my arm.  It had been back and biceps day at the gym, and I could feel the soreness starting to creep into my muscles.  The muscles that were prominently on display - well, OK, my triceps, those are really starting to pop - because I’m wearing a tank top.  That’s all I wear out in public now - tank tops and gym shorts.  Today, flat-soled Vans and Nike ankle socks.  A baseball cap turned backwards.  My glasses, in the searing sun, have turned to shades, at least, partially. 

What am I doing?  I thought.  I don’t look like I belong here.  The people who run this place, those fucking twig-like hipsters behind the counter in their floodwater khakis and their saddle shoes, their fucking immaculately trimmed beards and ostentatiously simple black-framed glasses.  Their mild confusion at my presence.  I’m guessing.  I’ve only picked up one or two books the whole time I’m here.  I’ve looked at my phone more, which keeps binging loudly in the quiet store.  I’m sure heads turn, disapproval is broadcasted.  Look at the dumb jock answering his phone in the bookstore.  Like someone talking too loudly in a movie.  If it rings, I decide instantly, I’m going to –

It rings.  I swipe right to answer.  I am about to say “Hello?”  or  “Hey,” like I normally do, but suddenly I make a different choice.  It’s my friend, and we’re supposed to meet up for dinner – for some chow – later, like, not too later, just in like an hour or so, “What’s UP bro?”  comes out of my mouth, almost like a horse’s bray, and this time I can just see the looks on the hipster’s faces, on the nice-looking girl in the summer skirt idly leafing through a book of short stories.  Irritation, disapproval, all invisibly pointed at me. 

But here’s the thing.  It felt amazing.  It felt like the biggest rush in the world, like taking a rollercoaster straight down and around the fuckin loop at 100 miles an hour bro.  And when he answered, maybe he was a little unsure because of how I’d answered the phone - I mean, that’s not me, right? 

I was out in the sun again before I knew it, glasses turning back into shades.  I spend a lot more time out in the sun these days.  The bell on the bookstore’s door jingled loudly, as if trying to match my volume.  And here’s the other thing - since I had so abruptly ratcheted the volume of my voice up to 11, the knob broke off, or at least, it felt like that, and I just couldn’t keep from talking as loudly as I had when I answered the call.  The whole way down the street, phone tilted to my ear, talking as loudly as possible, heart hammering, everyone in shouting distance able to hear me. 

Fuck.  When did I turn into such a d-bag?  I used to go in that bookstore all the time bro.  I used to, I used to sometimes compulsively buy a book even though I didn’t know who the author was or anything about it.  I used to spend hours in there, just paging through the books.  It seemed like a movie I saw once about someone who spent a lot of time in a bookstore, just paging through the books, but it couldn’t have been a movie I saw.  How boring would that movie be?  Unless someone robbed the bookstore and there was some real, y’know, action, or something to it. 

The sun was making me dizzy, which wasn’t the first time that day.  It’s been kind of hot out lately, but every moment I don’t spend out in the sun is a moment I feel kinda bad on the inside, like I should be outside as much as possible.  I should be showing as much skin as possible.  I need to be as tan as possible.  It makes the muscles pop more.  And that’s what matters, muscles and protein.  Man, I’m gonna eat a huge fuckin steak tonight at dinner.  My bro won’t like it much, he’ll probably sniff and say somethin about how the cow died inhumanely, or whatever.  I actually, secretly?  Have never really cared about that, not really.  I just need the protein.  I may have agreed once or twice, but I was just playin along, because I didn’t want the fuckin lecture.  And I’ll keep the shit about going into the bookstore to myself.  Nobody saw me do it, I’m sure, and I don’t want anyone knowin I went in there.  It was a dumb choice, why would I spend money on books that could be going to food, or supps, or more gear for working out?  I seem to always need new gear for working out, I mean, I only wear sleeveless shirts to the gym now - why wear sleeves?  How will I see where my muscles are growing?  That seems obvious to me.

So it’s kinda funny when my bro at dinner is all quiet and weird.  I know he’s gay and I know he’s got a crush on me.  Fuck, I got a crush on me.  It’s not gay, it’s just called ‘mirin.  Hard to look away from myself when I’m flexing in the mirror, stare right into my own eyes, dare me to flex even harder, really show off my fuckin biceps, flex my traps, my lats.  I think I’m gonna start paring down my collection of books, too.  I don’t have room in my room for the shelf, anyway, and it’s the perfect lighting to put a full-length mirror in.  Oh, wait, I just did that.  I forgot.  Two days ago.  I remember standin in front of it just last night.  Right?  That’s right.  I open up my phone and flick through to Photos and yeah, there’s a bunch of me posing.  Posin in different gear too.  But I’m not the one holding the camera.  My bro is. 

“So, do you remember any of last night?”

Shit.  I think I kinda do.  It’s fuzzy.  Like … “Was I drunk?”

“Naw, you haven’t had a drink in weeks, bro.”

He says bro funny.  I feel a weird vertigo, like my chair is slowly tipping backwards.  I flick through my Photos.  I’m posin a lot.  In different gear.  Shit, that’s a fucking singlet, I didn’t know I had a fucking singlet.  Something looks weird with my eyes.  Like I’m sleepwalking.  And there’s my bro, my big bro, in every shot, holding my phone, staring right at me, staring right at me even now, at dinner, over the table.  “Yeah,” I say, uncertainly.  What’s happening?  I’m falling, but I’m sitting straight up.  The back of my head feels heavy, like someone is pressing on it.  My brain feels squished, like when you screw your eyes shut really hard.

“You just been making different choices, Brendan.  How’s that working out for you, bro?  You’re healthier, now, aren’t you?  Fitter.  Happier.  More muscular.  Hotter.”  He licks his lips and smiles.  “Isn’t that what you want?”  He pauses.  Takes a sip of water.  I’m silent, because no words are coming to mind.  I wait for him to continue.  His words have a weight to them.  They are each like depth charges, exploding in my head.  “Tell me what you want, more than anything in the world, Brendan.”

I do the only thing I know how to do.  I lift my arms and I flex, and I grin, because fuck it, flexing feels fucking amazing, and my bro is laughing, and he’s lifting his phone, and he’s snapping a picture.  “This one’s goin on fuckin Facebook.  Ah, shit, this is the best thing ever.  Aren’t you glad you went to that hypnotist with us, Brendan?”

“What hypnotist?”

“It’s OK,” my bro says.  Soothingly.  It does calm me down.  I was gettin kinda riled up there.  “Don’t think about it too hard.”  He laughs.  “Well, harder than you can, anymore, anyway.”

Okay.  That sounds about right.  “Okay,” I say.  The protein has arrived, anyway, a huge steaming bowl of rice and chicken and veggies, and my mouth is watering so much that I think I must be drooling, but fuck it.  I wish I didn’t even have to use a fork, I wanna just shovel it into my face with my hands…

“And after we’re done here,” my bro is saying.  Was he talking the whole time?  I couldn’t remember the words he’d said, but I remember the sound of his voice.  I look at him again.  He is kinda nerdy.  Not real hipster, not really.  Glasses, the haircut.  He’s smart, too.  He’s really the only smart dude I hang around, because most guys I don’t get when they talk smart like my bro, but you gotta have at least one smart guy around when you need to make choices.  I usually make the right ones, anyway, I mean, c’mon, how hard is it.  Muscles, protein.  Maybe an action movie in there somewhere, or a trip to the beach, or rock climbing, or tossing the football around in the park. 

Hey, those all sound like awesome ideas. 

“Bro?  You in there?”  My bro is snapping his fingers in front of my face and laughing.  “Damn, you’re slow.”

“Sorry, bro,” I say, through a mouthful of rice and chicken I didn’t even know I was eating.  “What were you saying?”

“After we’re done here, I’m coming over to your apartment.  I’ve seen what it looks like, and you need some help dumbing it down.  I’ve got some ideas for you.  And there’s a lot of clothes you can get rid of and make space in your dresser for more gear.  Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Yeah,” I say, because whatever he’s saying, it’s cool with me, he’s my bro.  I just gotta get this fuel in me, because my body is fuckin hungry as shit. 

“And I might let you suck my cock,” my bro says, waggling his eyebrow at me.  “No homo.”

“No homo,” I repeat, still mowing down on my chow.  Fuck, this rice and chicken and veg is awesome.  I could eat this forever.  Every day.  Well, that and my protein shakes.  “Sure, bro.”

He leans back, grinning.  “Fuck.  You’re perfect.  Never change, bro.”

And I grin, and I flex again, and he checks his phone.  Probly checking up on my Facebook.  I let him have the password, because fuck that, all that shit is too complicated.  It’s better to have my bro make those choices for me.  I trust him.  He’s never let me down.  And he won’t.  He knows who I am, who I really am, who I’ve always been, and who I’ll always be.

So … what’s on my mind?  Well, muscles, and what I’m gonna lift tomorrow, and uh, I dunno, stuff like that.  

Eh, I was gonna update my status, but I’m just gonna let my bro do that for me. He’s better at all that shit, anyway.   All I need is the gym.   And my bro.

He looks at me over the table and grins, and presses a button on his phone, and I hear the sound of a post being made.  “Go ahead,” he motions, and I pull out my phone.  There’s the picture of me, flexing in the restaurant, shit-eating grin on my face, hat backwards.  Already the Likes are coming in, and some comments, and I’d look at them, but I don’t care that much about that shit anymore.

“Cool, bro,” I say, and dive back into my food.  I even eat what my bro doesn’t finish, and after we leave the restaurant, I’m confused a little, mostly full, feeling kinda dopey.  I almost wander into traffic once … or maybe twice, that was kind of embarrassing, but my bro was right there to stop me from walkin into the road.  Haha.  I’m funny when I’m full, I just wanna lay down and gobble on my bro’s knob.  He lets me do that.  He calls me a dumbass knob-gobbler, and I’m kinda okay with that.  My bro can do whatever he wants, because he knows best.

So … what’s on my mind?  Well, muscles, and what I’m gonna lift tomorrow, and uh, I dunno, stuff like that.  

Eh, I was gonna update my status, but I’m just gonna let my bro do that for me.  He’s better at all that shit, anyway.   All I need is the gym.   And my bro.

“First Meetings” Series: Jeon Jungkook

A/N: I kept getting distracted from completing this, first by the VIXX comeback and today, AGUST-D. When will I live?? O_O Anyways, here is Kookie’s fluff :) It was fun to write because I incorporated Taehyung into it and mentioned the others with references to my other “First Meetings” stories. Hope you enjoy! 

Originally posted by jeonsshi


         To Jungkook, photography was more than just an elective class. It was capturing a moment in time that could never be replicated down to a tee. It was an art to bring out the best in his subject. The angles, the lighting, the contrast, the exposure, the shutter. If he could compare it to painting, all of those factors could be mirrored to a painter’s palette or whatever medium they wanted to present their piece in. Those knobs and buttons on his camera controlled the outcome once the picture was taken.

           Jungkook would spend nights editing his pictures, perfecting it, and during the days he would walk around campus wishing he was allowed to bring his camera to his other classes. He would stand in the middle of the courtyard and try to imagine the weight of his DSLR in his hands, knowing exactly what angle to take to highlight the beauty of the freshly flourishing garden. A mixture of blush pink and ivory blossomed amidst the healthy green, and it was so calming. He wanted to share this sight with other people. He wanted to capture this moment.


           His thoughts were disturbed by his loud best friend Taehyung calling him. He turned quietly as his bubbly companion skipped to him.

           "You left without me!” Taehyung grinned, not the least bit accusatory.

           Jungkook smiled and continued to walk as his best friend began babbling about random topics.

           "Oh yeah. Did you do your photography project yet?“ Taehyung asked.

           Jungkook snorted. Figures that Taehyung would do it last minute.

           "Yeah as soon as it was assigned I took pictures of Hobi-hyung and his long time girlfriend. Why didn’t you start yours?”

           "Ahh!“ Taehyung groaned as he ruffled his hair. "I know I should’ve done it sooner, but I just couldn’t find willing pairs. You already took Hobi-hyung and his girlfriend. Namjoon hyung is always at the library, everyone else didn’t want to take photos, and who knows where the heck Yoongi-hyung is!”

           Jungkook frowned, concerned for his friend. “Well are you close to any girls in class? You can ask them and then see if any of the guys would be willing to after seeing her?”

           "Oooo.“ Taehyung smirked. "That’s sneaky Jungkook-ah! It’s like baiting them in. I like it!”

           Jungkook blushed shyly at the compliment.

           "I do have a close friend that’s a girl that’s probably nice enough to do it. We have a lot of classes together and she’s gorgeous.“ Taehyung beamed.

           "Sounds like you have a plan.” Jungkook smiled happily. “Good luck!”

           "Let me go ask her right now!“ Taehyung sprinted ahead.

           "Tae! We have class!” Jungkook called out, but his friend was rather free-spirited so he knew it was no use.

           He watched as Taehyung approached a beautiful female with his signature grin. It seemed that the girl was taken aback by Taehyung’s sudden appearance at first, but soon was listening to his pleas intently. Jungkook continued watching the interaction until you turned and your eyes met briefly. Hurriedly he ducked his head down and sped-walked into the lecture hall. His heart raced at being caught red handedly staring at someone he had never met, but he also couldn’t help thinking that your eyes were absolutely gorgeous.

           You were walking through the hallway to your next class, mumbling last minute information you had crammed to yourself repetitively when you felt someone grab your shoulder and turn you around. Your eyes widened to find Kim Taehyung, the talkative male student who liked to borrow your colored pens to doodle during class.

           "Hey _______.“ he exhaled, clearly out of breath.

           You waited patiently, wondering what in the world he needed that he had rushed over to you.

           "So like I have this photography project I need to do. It’s due next week and I haven’t been able to find anyone that would be a model for me. Please tell me you’re free this weekend to help me out.”

           There was such a desperate look in his eye and it reminded you so much of a puppy begging for food, you couldn’t help but nod your head.

           "You are?! OH MY GOSH! YOU’RE A LIFE SAVER!“ He hugged you roughly out of happiness and you tensed up, embarrassed at his open affection.

           Other students were glancing over at you two curiously as you tried to hide your face. Kim Taehyung was a bit overwhelming and shameless. You admired it but you were also a little self conscious.

           "Okay great. You’re going to have to take pictures with someone else. But don’t worry, you’ll be fine. I’ll make sure you look great, okay? I’ll text you the details about it later.” He turned serious and grabbed your shoulders. “You’re my only hope, _______. I’m counting on you.”

           And with that, he ran off just as fast as he had appeared. Leaving you flabbergasted at the complete whirlwind you had just experienced. What did you get yourself into?

           It was just some pictures. It would be fine, right?


           Jungkook hummed as he rummaged around his dorm room to collect his gym items. It was finally the weekend, meaning that he could finally get home from the gym and not have to rush to class. He was free to take pictures wherever he wanted for the rest of the day. Grinning widely at the prospect, he hurried to the bathroom to brush his teeth. While he was doing so, his phone rang multiple times. He walked over to find a missed call from his best friend Kim Taehyung and a text message in all caps.


           Jungkook rolled his eyes and called Taehyung.

           "JUNGKOOK!“ he screamed causing the younger male to pull the phone away from his ear hurriedly.

           "I’m pretty sure that incident wasn’t as dire as how you make it sound. ‘Risking your purity’? Hah.” Jungkook smirked.

           "Okay, but you owe me, right?“

           "Yeah, I did say that…why?”

           "Okay…so like Jimin was going to be my male model today with my friend, but he’s sick and in bed now.“ Taehyung groaned.

           "And…” Jungkook stated, getting a bad feeling about what Tae was going to say next.

           "Can you be my male model please? Please, please, please, please.“ his friend begged earnestly. "This girl is really pretty and she’s sweet. She’s shy too and not at all handsy so you don’t need to be nervous or anything. PLEASE. PLEASSSEEE.”

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Verdict: Sharp, Saad happy to be home in Chicago [07\30\2017] (from Chicago

Needing no introduction, Patrick Sharp and Brandon Saad received one anyway at the Blackhawks’ 10th Annual Convention. During the Opening Ceremonies, both were accorded a rousing welcome. 

A day later, the International Ballroom at the Hilton Chicago was standing room only for a panel discussion. “More people than used to be at some of our games when I first got here,” noted Sharp. During a break in the action, Sharp and Saad talked with

You were traded about a week apart after helping the Blackhawks win the 2015 Stanley Cup. Now about a week apart, you have returned. Any inkling this could happen?

Saad: None, zero. No rumors about a deal with Columbus. Nothing. I was home in Pittsburgh the morning of the NHL Draft at the United Center. I think I might have just finished a workout and I got a call from Jarmo Kekalainen, the general manager of the Blue Jackets. He told me I’d been traded back to the Blackhawks. It was pretty shocking. Then I got a call from Stan Bowman, saying he was happy to have me back.

I had signed a long-term contract with Columbus and was protected in the expansion draft for the new team in Las Vegas, so I figured I was still with the Blue Jackets. When I left Chicago, I kind of knew it would happen because of the salary cap. I didn’t think about coming back. Then this happened. Shocking.

Patrick, you were a free agent with the Dallas Stars. How many teams were you talking to?
Saad: Probably 30.

Sharp: No, maybe seven or eight. Then it came down to two or three. Then Stan got in touch. That was the end of it. I could have made more money elsewhere, but when I found out the Blackhawks were interested, that’s all that mattered. I was in Connecticut. I took the call, then went outside with my phone. My wife, Abby, followed me. While I was talking with Stan, she was beside me, jumping up down, saying, “Sign it! Sign it!”

She’s even more excited about coming back to the Blackhawks than I am, and I am plenty excited. I wanted to go to a place where I am wanted, and Chicago is a place we never wanted to leave. Like Saader, I knew I was going to leave in 2015. Stan said he had to move some money, and I thought he might be moving it to pay Saader. But he got traded before I went to Dallas. Now here we are. Blackhawks again.

What did you miss most about Chicago and the Blackhawks?
Sharp: First of all, I have nothing but good things to say about Dallas and the Stars’ organization. They gave me a ton a respect, lots of ice time, and everything there was first class. We won the Conference my first season there, but last year left a bad taste. Not only because we didn’t play well as a team, but I missed a bunch of games with injuries. Chicago, though, is where I spent 10 great years, won three Stanley Cups, played my best hockey and made lasting friendships. 

We loved the city, the team, the fans. It was tough leaving here and, to be honest, I never got over leaving here. We kept our place and were renting it out. We’re not renting it out anymore. We’re moving back in. I missed the Cubs, too, going to Wrigley Field. I leave for two years and they win the World Series.

Saad: The Blackhawks are where I started. They drafted me, gave me my first chance in the NHL, and we won a Cup here. I grew up here as a hockey player. I was a kid. Everything was new. There’s a lot of history with the Blackhawks, an Original Six franchise, and there are still some guys who I played with, friends. 

Like Sharpy [with Dallas], I enjoyed Columbus. Nice city, fans are supportive, and we had a terrific season last year. But the Blackhawks feel like home. Sold my place in Columbus in one day and now, as we’re doing this, my dad and fiancé are looking for a place in Chicago.

What does it mean to be returning with Sharp?
Saad: Well, we just got better looking. (Laugh.) He was always good to me when I came up as a rookie. He’s a leader and he was one of the veterans who helped me feel comfortable. Plus, look at him. What is he, 35? He’s still in great shape.

What about returning with Saad?
Sharp: He’s 24, but he’s really older than me, right? I mean, so mature. He was as a rookie. I remember when he first showed up in 2012, especially for our playoff series against the Coyotes. 

We got beat, but I took one look at this guy, the way he played, the way he carried himself, all the skills he showed. He looked like a 10-year veteran. I thought to myself even then, “this kid belongs in the National Hockey League.”

Is Saad still the “Man-Child”?
Sharp: No. Now he is a “Man.”

Saad: Haven’t heard that “Man Child” thing since I left Chicago.

Brandon, how are you different now than then?
Sharp: He’s a lot richer.

Saad: (Laugh). I think I’m a better player. I’m more mature. I’m engaged, I’ve been through trades, I played with another organization, I’ve seen more and experienced more. I tried never to be like a young punk, showing up as a rookie and acting like I knew everything. I’m still the same way, which is why my first roommate, Andrew Shaw, got all over me. 

I acted like an old man, spending too much time in the bathroom, wearing a bathrobe when we were in the hotel. He beat me up, even when he liked what I was doing, but I enjoyed being around him and he’s still one of my best friends. I’m going to his wedding later this summer.

Sharp: I’m in even better shape than when I left the Blackhawks. Whether that translates, I don’t know. I realize that some people are saying, well, he’s past his prime, his best days are gone, he’s lost a step. But as much as I enjoy being received the way I’ve been, by the fans and the organization, I’m not coming here to renew acquaintances or go to our favorite restaurants. I am coming here to play, and contribute. Whatever they want me to do.

I was on three Cup teams here, and I played three different positions. Center, right wing, left wing. Whatever it takes. Like I said, I did not feel good about last year in Dallas. I talked with Soupy (Brian Campbell) off and on last year when he returned to Chicago. He said he absolutely made the right move. I feel the same way.

What makes Chicago and the Blackhawks special?
Sharp: They got knocked out in the first round the last two years, but this is still a destination for players throughout the league. The Blackhawks can’t pay more because of the cap, the weather can be tough, but it’s still the place to play. I could feel it in Dallas. 

Whenever we played the Blackhawks, it felt like a big game. In the United Center, where it’s always full, but also in our building, even though it was half red and half green in the stands with all the Blackhawk fans. 

My first game back here with Dallas, they put a video tribute up there. Emotional. I got a video of the video. Playing against the Blackhawks is not like playing against any other team. Sure was tough for me, anyway, because I have so many friends after ten years with them. But it’s just the way things work around here. Not any specifics. Just the details, if you know what I mean. The way you are treated if you are a Blackhawk is just different. 

When Stan had to deal me, he wanted me to go to a place where I would be happy. And I was in Dallas. He didn’t have to do that. Details.

Saad: I can’t say it any better. It’s a different team and has been every year because of the cap. But the first guy I heard from after being traded back here was Tazer (Jonathan Toews). I don’t know if I’ll be back on a line with him. Who wouldn’t want to play with him? 

And there’s still a few of the guys who won the Cup in 2015. I was in Pittsburgh when the Penguins had their victory parade. 

We had the third most points in the East, but got beat by them in the first round. I can’t knock them. It’s the Penguins who got me interested in hockey when I was just a kid. But it would be nice to do that again here in Chicago. And Sharpy is right about how the Blackhawks, besides wanting to win it all every year, handle the little things. The details. I feel very fortunate. Everything in perspective. My dad, George, still has a sister in Syria.

Patrick, you and Brandon both spent two years in huge football markets. Cowboys in Dallas, Ohio State in Columbus. When you see thousands of people wearing Blackhawk sweaters around Chicago in the middle of July, is there any doubt…
Sharp: Seabs (Brent Seabrook) called when I was traded back here, and he said, “You know, Sharpy, there are great schools in the Lakeview area.” Always thinking like a leader. But, whoa. I told him I was here for ten years. And they were amazing years. My first game here after I got traded from Philadelphia, they announced a crowd of 10,000, but it was more like 7,000. 

One of our first promotions, Duncs (Duncan Keith) and I went to a train station in our jerseys giving out free tickets to games. People looked at us. “Leave us alone. Go away.”

I had a buddy from back home in Canada working here and I got him tickets. He had an entire section to himself. A big guy, he stretched his arms around the seats next to him and draped his legs over the seat in front of him.

Where is he now?
Sharp: He’s not working in Chicago anymore. But if he comes back for a game and asks for tickets, he’s not going to have a section to himself.

Taylor Swift Turns People Gay: A Coming Out Story

So this is a hard letter to write. As I’m sitting in this Detroit airport, following @taylorswift’s Omaha show last night, I feel like someone out of a Nora Ephron movie, about to send a huge declarative email to an old love that explains everything and begs for them back - fingers sweaty and trembling between the send button and the cappuccino next to me. That may be a bit dramatic, but I’ve always relished a bit of juicy drama (haven’t you?) and this letter really is a declaration of love at its heart, though somewhat selfishly, it focuses on love for myself. Last spring, about six months ago - a few months before turning 21 - I decided to (finally) come out as gay. You, as an adamant Taylor Swift fan, might be thinking, “Okay, who cares?” And I could understand that, but as today is National Coming Out Day, I figured I’d add my story to the growing pile, and thankfully so, of people with similar stories to tell. But, though probably not surprising as I’m keeping a low profile in an official 1989 baseball cap, my Taylor Nation photo lighting up on my phone with each spam email received, my story has a lot to do with Ms. Swift.

I grew up with her, have been a fan since Teardrops (I wasn’t exposed to the YouTube singles until later, I’m sorry I’m terrible!), cried over All Too Well, and danced around in a homemade Junior Jewels tee. However, with the release of 1989 and the reincarnation of Taylor as a pop princess with all the fun of Britney, power of Beyoncé, and artistry of Gaga, I found myself getting in touch with who I really was - which terrified me. A piece of myself that I always condemned and pushed down, trained to fear from bullies growing up that made me feel like I didn’t deserve their happiness, began to gnaw at me more than ever. I would go further into those years but this is my story, and I’m done letting bullies control my life’s narrative. So here I was, alone and broken after years of self hate, when I downloaded 1989 when it was released on iTunes and my life changed.

You might think I’m leading towards a big revelation about the “boys and boys, and girls and girls” line of Welcome to New York - a great line for sure and one that I now scream as loud as possible at concerts or in my car - but really it was another lyric that consumed me and bounced around my head until it wouldn’t stop. “The best people in life are free.” That one little line from New Romantics would not leave me alone, no matter how hard I tried. “The best people in life are free.” I used to sing it and dream that one day I could be free too, that one day I could sing that line without feeling like a cheat or a fraud to the people I would avoid or lie to through omission.

So finally, this past Easter, I did something terrifying that completely leveled me. As I was in the car with my family, driving home after a nice mini-vacation, I told them I was gay. I was actually waiting for a sign, as any superstitious child of the Harry Potter generation would, and when three (yes three) Taylor songs came on the radio within an hour I finally said, “Jesus christ Taylor I’ll do it, leave me alone.” And I did it. It destroyed me, I felt weird, it was strange. But I was free. Finally. After years of bottling it up, of pretending I was fearless, pretending I would speak now, I did it. And I haven’t been happier. It was the most important moment of my life and so many of my friends supported me and allowed me to grow more these past six months than the rest of my life combined.

I owe that to Taylor. She made me want to be free. And while many might see this as a shameful attempt for recognition (I mean, I would never turn down a Loft 89 invite, I’m not insane), I wanted to write this letter for two reasons. One: to thank Taylor, who built up courage within me since 2006 for a moment that was about 10 years in the making; and two: for any boy out there who pretends to dance to Shake it Off ironically but really wishes they could be free of stigma and do it wholeheartedly; or for anyone, boy and girl and anyone in between, who sits in their room listening to Our Song and wondering if they’ll ever have the opportunity to love someone like that. You will. I know it. So thank you Taylor, for holding my hand in those scary, dark times even though you might never know it, and for anyone out there still struggling…it’s okay to dance in secret, just know we’ll be here for you, cheering and screaming like we would at any Taylor swift concert, when you’re finally ready to be free. Thanks Taylor, and thanks anyone who read this until the end. See you in the next era. xxoo

dibsonthat1d  asked:

9. “I could totally fight you with my bare hands.” For niall bc this seems like it could be very cute and funny!! 😘

I hate that this took so long and it’s super short. But I hope it’s kinda what you had in mind anyway.

You sat on the sofa next to Niall after a long grueling day. All you wanted to do was kick your feet up, sit back and watch TV. Pizza and beer was the perfect dinner, and as you sipped your newly opened bottle and gave an audible sigh, Niall grabbed the remote control. You side-eyed him when he stopped channel surfing and landed on a soccer game. Clearing your throat, you got his attention.

“What?” he asked you.

“Seriously, Niall?” you rolled your eyes. “We can’t watch something else? Anything else?”

Niall shrugged. “I just wanted to see the score.”

When you didn’t respond, he groaned. “Fine, we can see what else is on.”

“Thank you,” you said, biting into your pizza. Even though Niall was flipping through the channels so fast it made you dizzy, you caught a glimpse of Molly Ringwald and Emilio Estevez. “Ooh ooh! Go back!”

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I Thought You Were Different: Book 2 (Part 17/?) (Avengers x reader)

Part 16

“So, just let me do the talking, okay?” Tony began, sitting just behind Steve as he piloted the jet towards their meeting in Geneva. “I’ve done this bureaucratic crap a million times, so I know how to play.”

“Fine by me, just work in my point of view here and there, if it’s not too hard to remember.”

“Oh, I think I’ve got it,” Tony scoffed, “goes something like, ‘screw the Accords and you asshats that wrote them’, right?”

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Strange Love

Prompt #1: “Why are we at a strip club?”

Author: Caitsy

Warnings: strip club, fluff, and knives.

Disclaimer: I do not own marvel or characters. I also do not own any gifs, images or songs.

Summary: It’s Bucky’s birthday and while you are dating you want to surprise him and Steve. You decided to officially welcome them to the twenty-first century with a nice trip to a strip club where your friend is a well known exotic dancer. How flustered with the 40s men be at this place?

Requested: Yes. Anonymous

A/N: I was waiting for someone to request this haha!

Originally posted by stansons

It was Bucky’s birthday where Tony wanted to throw themed party with a large ice sculpture resembling Bucky. You had put your foot down on that because it was an asshole move. Instead you had a plan to take both Steve and Bucky out. It was something you were excited for because you had a camera to capture their faces when you out to the place. You should be jealous since Bucky was your boyfriend but you wanted to do this and see his reaction and you have a strange love.

“Tony! We are not doing that!”

“What? I thought he would like a twin!” Tony smirked, “I still think it would be good!”

“No.” You glared. He groaned annoyed at you.

Tony didn’t think it mattered to celebrate a birthday for a guy that should be dead by now…well for a normal person. Besides Tony wasn’t fond of the super soldier as much as everyone else was. Hell even Sam had become good friends with the winter soldier.


“You just want to have a party to get drunk at without being called an alcoholic.”


You rolled your eyes as you walked off to find Nat and Wanda to talk about your plan. You were the only one that knew where you were talking the boys and you thought they would get a kick out of it. They were each in the sparring room with Wanda practicing her powers while Nat was sharpening a few of her knives.

The ones you got her for her birthday that was an intricate design that she had fallen in love with. She would deny that as much she could but her old knives had been unused since she got the new ones. Nat didn’t like flowers but if you got a bouquet knives she would be very happy.

“Nat and Wanda I have a plan.” You said, “It’s Bucky’s birthday and I’m surprising them by taking them to a strip club.”

The girls stopped what they were doing as the words were processed in their minds. They went wide eyes looking at you before they began to laugh.
“Are you sure that’s what you should do?” Nat snorted.

“Yeah.” You smirked, “A flustered pair of manly super soldiers? Hell yeah.”

“I want to watch that.” Nat chuckled shaking her head, “Please get a picture of them. Wanda and I have a mission in a could hours to go on.”

“That’s why I’m having my phone at the most charged amount.” You laughed before you all sobered up when Steve came into the room, “Hey Cap.”

“Ladies.” Steve nodded as he came closer up to you guys, “Y/N what are we going for Bucky’s birthday?”

“It’s a surprise for Bucky and you.” You winked. Steve sighed not comfortable with not knowing what you were dragging Bucky to.

The poor man was still getting used to a new arm and life without being tied to HYDRA now. Steve was almost like a father to Bucky with how protective he was and you could tell it was now getting annoying to everyone. Bucky had appreciated it at first but not it was getting out of hand but he didn’t want you to bring it up with Steve. Bucky wanted to stop being babied.

“Can you tell me please?” Steve asked crossing his arms, “I want to know so I can be prepared for anything that could happen.”

“No.” You coldly said, “You do not need to know every detail of the mans life. You better go check if took a shit at the time you like.”

“Excuse me?” Steve tensed up. He was agitated with how you talking to him. He would appreciate having respect from everyone on the team.

“You heard me.” You glared, “I will come get you and Bucky when it’s time to go but until then drop it.”

Without another word you stormed out of the sparring room to the elevator, the doors closed just as Steve was storming over to it. You knew that he would have words with you but you were going to avoid it. Slamming your bedroom door you ordered FRIDAY to lock the door and not let anyone into the room.

“Y/N open the door!” Steve exclaimed slamming his hand on your door.

You plugged earphones in and leaned back yawning as you decided to take a much needed nap. Your eyes fluttered a few hours later when your stomach let out a growl so you dressed up in better clothing and walking to the kitchen. Nat and Wanda were putting food on the table while everyone was lounging around the common room.

“Smells good.” You sighed walking over to the girls.

“It’s ready!” Nat exclaimed sitting at the table waiting for everyone to show up, “Happy birthday Bucky.”

With some small toasts you dug into the food extremely hungry from sleeping through lunch. Glares from Steve ended when Bucky had some sharps words with his best friend.


Steve and Bucky were following you as you walked down the street where it was getting more and more seedy. The building had a raunchy name that confused the boys but you smirked. You had respect for this place because of your friends worked here.

“What is this place?” Steve frowned confused.

“You’ll see.”

You all walked up to the door where a bouncer was there standing stoic with large muscles that almost were bigger than the super soldiers. He was beside the door that had a line waiting to get in.

“Y/N! It’s been a while.” The man smiled at you.

“Hey Tommy.” You grinned, “I have some visitors here that have never been in this place before. How much to get in quick?”

“For you?” Tommy chuckled, “A hug should be sufficient.”

You chuckled pulling the burly man into a hug before he opened the door for you guys. The strobe lights weren’t obscene but the girls on the stage were. They were stripping to a good song while you smiled looking around, your friend was main stage putting on a really good show.

“Is this a strip club?!” Bucky exclaimed flustered.

Your friend was walking off stage when you shoved Bucky and Steve into separate booths on the sides of the room. Your friend, Ruby, was the most sought out girl for a lap dance. She had jokingly given you once and you had been turned on to be honest.

“Y/N!” She grinned hugging you without getting the oil transferred to you, “Which one is the birthday boy?”

“Him.” You answered pointing a finger to a flustered Bucky Barnes. Steve was chocking not knowing what to do with his hands. You had known both of them had never been in a place like this, despite being a ladies man in the 40s, Bucky had never been in a club.

Ruby got to work and you could see how the boys were turned on majorly so you grinned at them both.

“Welcome to the twenty-first century officially boys.” You grinned as you looked at the picture of Bucky and Steve’s faces when you walked in, “So framing this.”

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My day today

Began the end of my trip through Canada, leaving Calgary and driving for Seattle. About 3 hours in, my engine starts to rattle. By the time I stop it had seized up. Turns out when I topped off the oil, I’d left the cap off, and all my oil came out causing my engine to seize up and die. Thankfully I was close enough to a town I could get a tow, but then they announced my engine was already RIP in peices. So my car is dead, in a foreign country, full of my shit, in a town with no real options.

Thankfully a lady came in who needed her tire checked on, and I heard her on the phone say she needed to go to the town about 50 miles away that was actually the only town I found that would be able to let me rent something I could turn in inside the states. I asked her for a ride and explained my situation and she agreed!

A few hours later (she had been on break from work when I asked) she arrives with her girlfriend in her own car and I hop in and thank them a bunch. Over the drive I make friends with their tiny dog, bond over ADHD medications and trying to figure out how to hold the aux cord just right so music would play. They drop me off at a hotel and let me know to give them a shout if I need more help

tl;dr lesbian couple and their little dog saved the day for me today and saved me from a huge portion of an already massive headache of my car biting the dust

Phan: Those Who Trust- Part 9

Wordcount: 2.7k
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: past non-con and abuse, nightmares
Summary: Dan used to be a submissive and now he’s just a broken shell of a man.
A/N: I wrote this during lunchbreak today and you are all lovely. For the anon concering the anxiety, if you think the angst might be too much for you just skip to the paragraph where the first two words are written in all caps! :)


Phil stood at the doorframe and looked into the dark room. With every second passing he felt like the walls were closing in on him as Dan’s screams turned louder, were mixed now with sobs as well. Not knowing what to do, he got out his phone and dialled PJ’s number, ignoring the fact that the clock showed four a.m..

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Well if the show isn’t gonna give me any Dean/Aaron then I guess I gotta write it my goddamn self

“I killed Hitler.”

“Dude, it’s like 2 in the mor–”

“I killed Hitler, dude.”

“OK. Fine. I’m awake.” There’s some shuffling on the line, the click of a lamp. “What the fuck are you saying to me?”

“Hitler came back for, like, five seconds, and I killed him. Shot him right between the eyes.” Dean tucks the phone against his ear so he can twist the cap off a beer. He sped all the way back to the bunker just so he could have this conversation without Sam next to him rolling his eyes. 

“What happened to taking down the Thu–”

“Dude! Are you not hearing me?”

Aaron sighs into the receiver. “You really killed Hitler? The Hitler?”

“Well, he was in a different body but yeah. I fucking killed him.”

“You’re serious?”


“You actually did it.”

“I did.”

“If you’re joking, I swear to–”

“I’m not joking!” Dean drops into a kitchen chair and downs half his beer. “You can ask Sam.”

The line goes quiet for a second. “I can’t believe this. You’re actually serious. You really did it.”


Some more shuffling. “I gotta go.”

“What? Aaron, what the fu–”

The line goes dead.


It’s been three days since Dean killed Hitler, and it’s been zero days since Dean’s mentioned that he killed Hitler. Sam is so sick of hearing about it over breakfast that he almost, almost put his earphones in this morning so he could drink his coffee at the kitchen table in peace.

Dean’s late getting up, which is rare. Sam is about to go check on him when he hears some doors shutting and some poignant yawning down the hall. As footsteps approach, he slides Dean’s mug to the edge of the table without taking his eyes off his computer screen.

“Coffee’s on,” Sam greets.

“Uh, thanks.”

Sam’s attention snaps up real quick. “Um. Aaron. What.”

Aaron sheepishly grabs the mug off the table and guiltily scrunches his face up at Sam. “Yeah…” he says, holding out the “ah” sound for a solid 10 seconds.

“I thought you were in Ber–is that Dean’s robe?”

“Hmm? Oh. Um. Sure, yeah, I guess. I just grabbed it because I was…”

Dean slides into the kitchen then, his socks skidding across the linoleum before he bumps shoulder-first into Aaron. He’s wearing a red baseball shirt that’s so tight across his chest that Sam can practically hear the bias of the fabric screaming in pain. It barely covers his belly button.

“Hey, Sammy, guess what?”

“Dean, I really don’t–”

“I killed Hitler.” He bounces his eyebrows at Sam before turning toward Aaron and smacking his ass. “Who would’ve thought–” He wraps an arm around Aaron’s neck and plants a sloppy kiss on his cheek, “–that’s all it took to get this guy in bed?”

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart | 고마워, 내 마음의 바닥에서.

Just one short year ago, you made a game Mystic Messenger. And I don’t think anyone could’ve predicted the way its exploded. The fans, your fans, make art, whether it’s drawing or writing, theories, and an amazing and loving community a because of this phone game that you worked hard to make.

Personally, without your work, I wouldn’t get through some tough and almost impossible things, plus, I wouldn’t have some amazing friends. And all because of you, I’ve made my life richer and fuller in comparison.

So to keep this short, thank you! And I hope that there will be many more years filled with joy ahead of us!


불과 1 년 전, 당신은 미스틱 메신저 게임을 만들었습니다. 그리고 나는 누군가가 폭발 한 방식을 예측할 수 있다고 생각하지 않는다. 당신이 열심히 일한이 전화 게임 때문에 팬들, 팬들, 그리기 나 글쓰기, 이론, 그리고 놀랍고 사랑스러운 공동체가 예술이됩니다.

개인적으로, 당신의 일없이, 나는 힘들고 거의 불가능한 일들을 겪지 않을 것이며, 플러스, 나는 놀라운 친구들을 갖지 않을 것입니다. 그리고 너 때문에 나는 내 인생을 더 풍성하고 풍부하게 만들었다 비교해 봐.

그래서이 짧은 유지, 고마워요! 그리고 우리보다 앞서 기쁨으로 가득 찬 많은 년이 있기를 바랍니다.

(제 엉망진창을 변명하십시오. 일을 쉽게하기 위해 통역을 사용하고 있습니다)