though not nearly as bad as yesterday

Zen Fanfiction #4: The Little Things

A/N: For @digitalscratch-arting because I don’t think I can finish the Zen smut 😭😭😭 It’s so harrrddd and I think fluff is what I do better so HERE IS A FIC TO MAKE UP FOR MY DISAPPOINTING EXISTENCE. 

It’s a little different from how I do my normal fics/drabbles, but :3 I hope you like it, Digi!! 💕💕 

Love. It’s a funny word. Especially in theatre.

In acting, love is flamboyant, showy, over-the-top. It’s declaring your undying love beneath the dimming golden lights of the setting sun; it’s surprising her by snatching her by the waist, tipping her over and crashing your lips to hers in front of a wide-eyed audience. It’s vowing to protect her with a swish of the cape and flash of a silver sword. It’s crying uncontrollably and screaming her name when she departs prematurely from the world, by a cruel twist of fate.

A few years into actual acting and he realises that love isn’t exactly like that.

Love is sweet. Fluffy. Like cotton candy melting in your mouth. Eat too much and you’ll get a sugar rush, but in the best way possible. It gets your heart pounding, your blood rushing to your head, and energy from an unknown source flowing into your veins. It’s feeling giddy and insanely nervous whenever she’s around. It’s flirting with her and feeling like you own the world when she flirts back. It’s surprising her with flowers and chocolate at every chance you get, it’s showing off your motorcycle to hear her gushing, it’s making the best jokes to hear her tinkling laugh.

But… after a while, it gets tiring. Because after every rush, there comes a time when you come crashing down. 

And so he didn’t think it was worth it. Love just wasn’t worth all that time and energy. He was better off using that time to practice and rehearse his lines.

Love, after all, feels more like a fling. A sugar rush that dies down after a while. Hmph. If even familial love can’t last, he highly doubts a romantic relationship can go that far. 

So flirting it is. Because come on, who can resist flirting with a cute girl? Let the interest last while it can, and when it goes, move on. Simple enough. Love is just there to add a little spice to your life.

It’s a few more years before someone else barges into his life. Like a star that suddenly falls from the sky, right onto his head, and turning his notions and fantasies of love into stardust. 

Keep reading

it’s been a week since isak and even moved in but they still couldn’t get used to it. they were so excited and happy and couldn’t believe that they finally did what they have been planning for a month now. so this exciment literally was preventing them from sleeping. they could let themselves stay up late and even if they were going to bed like at 3 am they barely could fall asleep. at first usually there were a total silence and they honestly were trying to sleep because even though it was an easter break they still needed to get up early because there were a lot of stuff do to since they moved in.
so yesterday after 5 minutes of trying to fall asleep isak said “are you sleeping even?” and even replied “nei” pulled isak whom he cuddled even closer and kissed his neck. “i just keep thinking what else we should buy for our place”. “me to. so i was thinking that we should buy more chairs because we only have four and one of them nearly broken and you can fall any minute. can’t say it’s a bad thing because magnus has his own chair now. can’t wait to see how this chair will finally break and magnus will land on the floor. what i was talking about? so yeah we need chairs.” “okay baby, we can go to ikea tomorrow and buy something. i also need new stand for my guitars”. they continued to talk about this stuff for almost half an hour and then they finally fell asleep, cuddling and with smiles on their faces. isak woke up two hours later with a feeling that something is wrong. it was because he founded himself on the other side of the bed. so he moved back to even cuddled him up and quietly went back to sleep.

AOS Finale Survival Guide

Fells like just yesterday were were screaming into the void for our missing promo materials for Season 4 and now we are just a few days away from the season finale.

Finale time is scary for any show, as we worry about how things will be wrapped up and who will survive.  Though the terror isn’t nearly as bad as it was last season with the hades that was Fallen Agent.

Here are a few tips to help get through it.

Remember articles are meant to build hype for the finale, to tease us, and get us into a frenzy.   The author of the article, cast, writers all are there to tease and promote the show.  They will NOT give away huge plot points like Fitzsimmons happy and safe with no issues.  They will tease and worry us with lines like “Whether that means they end up also being together is to be determined, but I think there’s satisfaction in knowing that they have a forever love.”  Also remember like on here, those that write those articles have their own view and preferences on characters and stories that will seep into their writing.

Beware of Click Bait AKA the Fake News of Fandom.  If you see a headline confirming your absolute worst fear leading up to the finale…chances are its click bait. The content of the article will likely twist something form another interview to fit their sensational headline.  

Avoid things that up anxiety or upset you.  Be it avoiding Tumblr all together or black listing specific people or tags to not reading articles.

Have your support network.   If you need someone else to watch first to warn you, totally okay.  I have a group that warns me if it’s safe for the kiddo to watch and if my Ask Box is going to die after.   

Something really scaring you?  Not only myself but others in the fandom are happy to take asks.  

Sterek Hugging Through Time

It hadn’t even been a month since Stiles had been freed from the Nogitsune, but the scars had yet to heal, especially the emotional ones. Stiles felt responsible for everything, despite Scott’s constant urging to the contrary, especially for Allison’s death.

His dad had taken off as much time as he could from the station to help care for Stiles, who was just starting to recover from being a total wreck.
Tonight, however, the sheriff couldn’t take off, Melissa was at work, and Stiles needed a hug, God did he need a hug. Stiles was hugging his pillow, crying silently into it. He needed Scott. Now.
He reached over to his nightstand and tapped out a message through the blur of his tears.
“Hey dude tonight is bad. I need a hug. Get here ASAP pls” he sent, barely able to hold on to the phone, his hands were shaking so bad.
He dropped his phone onto the bed and sobbed into his pillow.

He had nearly cried himself to sleep when he heard his window open, and he jumped up, scrambling for the bat next to his bed.
“Stiles, what are you doing?” came Derek’s voice from the open window.
Stiles blinked and then lowered the bat.
“Derek, why are you in my room?” Stiles demanded croakily.
“Because you sent me a text demanding that I ‘come hug you asap’.” Derek said exasperatedly.
Stiles set the bat down and snatched up his phone.
"No, I definitely asked Scott to give me a hug because Scott is my best friend and- oh.” Stiles stopped abruptly. The text had been sent to Derek, not Scott.

Derek cleared his throat pointedly after a couple of seconds, "Something wrong?”
Stiles shook his head gently and hung it. He dropped the phone back on his bed and sobbed.
Derek took a few steps toward him and stopped right in front of Stiles.
“I’m sorry I dragged you out-” Stiles began to apologize.
Derek awkwardly lurched forward, paused, and then gently wrapped his arms around Stiles, who was too shocked to protest.
Derek stood there and held Stiles, and his breath. He exhaled jerkily when Stiles dropped his head onto his shoulder, sobbing, and slid his arms around Derek’s back.

Stiles was shocked, but not just by Derek giving him a hug. They had been through a ton together, and after Boyd’s death, they had shared something that he didn’t quite understand.
What really shocked Stiles was how tender Derek was in hugging him. He contrasted sharply with Scott, who was all about the bear hug, and Stiles liked the difference.
Stiles had always, well recently at least, felt safe when he was with Derek, but this was different. He felt more than safe, he felt… content, despite the pain he was feeling. Derek hugging him helped wash it all away, which he hadn’t experienced much since he lost his mom.

Derek gently ran his hands up and down Stiles’ back slowly, comfortingly, while he waited for Stiles sobs to subside.
He had no idea how long they had stood there, but Stiles had definitely been quiet for at least a couple minutes. Derek kept slowly running his hands across Stiles’ back, letting him melt into his shoulder.
After a couple deep, steadying breaths, Stiles let go of Derek and stepped back. He looked away from Derek awkwardly, rubbing the back of his arm.
“Stiles…?” Derek asked softly when Stiles remained silent.
“Is this what it felt like after-” Stiles murmured quietly without looking at Derek.
Derek stiffened for a moment, and then relaxed visibly.
“Yes.” Derek whispered.
As impossible as it seemed, Stiles’ head managed to drop even lower.
Derek reached up and lifted Stiles’ chin gently, looking him in the eyes, “Stiles. You’re not alone. You were there for me, and- and I’m here for you.”
Tears burst forth from Stiles as he collapsed forward into Derek’s arms. Derek shushed him quietly and lowered both of them to the edge of the bed.
Stiles bawled into Derek’s shoulder and Derek held him, just as he had wished someone had done for him after Boyd.

Stiles was letting out all the pain and anger, suffering and helplessness, agony and heartbreak, and Derek knew all too well how torturous that process was.
He held on to Stiles’ for the better part of an hour, until eventually he ran out of steam and fell asleep.
After gently lowering Stiles’ peaceful form and tucking him in, Derek looked down and wiped away the tears that were left on his cheeks, chin, and nose.
Derek inhaled deeply, but shakily, as he bit back his own tears. Seeing Stiles go through this awful ordeal cut Derek, straight to the core.
Derek decided right then and there that he would do everything in his power to lessen Stiles’ pain. He laid down next to Stiles and held him again, noting the shift in Stiles’ scent to contentment.
Stiles’ scent shift was very pleasant, and Derek soon drifted off.

Stiles woke up the next morning, overheating as the sunlight streamed into his bedroom. The only problem was that the heat was coming from behind him, and he was facing the sun.
He stiffened as he realized there was an arm draped over his chest, and the memory of what happened the previous night came flooding back. Usually he has to spend several minutes distracting himself from the nightmares he wakes up from because “remembering them is often worse than having them”, Stiles tells Scott.
He realized it wasn’t a nightmare, and he confirmed this when he craned his head around and saw a leather jacket-clad, dark haired, scruffy werewolf in his bed, nuzzling the back of his neck.
Stiles head snapped back to facing forward as he squinted his eyes hard and searched his memory, trying hard to recall every detail. He wanted to make sure he hadn’t said or done anything stupid with Derek.
He let out a sigh of relief as he realized there hadn’t been anything done or said which could have revealed how he felt for Derek.
Derek stirred and pulled Stiles closer to him. A few seconds later, Stiles heard, and felt, a small huff come from behind him.
It tickled the hair on the back of his neck and he quickly stifled a giggle.
This time when Derek stirred, he retracted his arm and yawned widely, his eyes still tightly shut. Stiles gently peeled back the covers and tried to climb out.
“Stiles?” He heard Derek mumble before he could get even one leg out.
“Uh, hey, Derek.” Stiles replied awkwardly.
“Sorry if you didn’t want me to stay. You kind of passed out before I could ask.” Derek apologized as he sat up.
“Why’d you stay?” Stiles asked as he climbed out of his bed.
Derek didn’t immediately answer, a shadow crossed his face, and, for a moment, he once again looked like he did when Stiles first met him: hollow, dead.
“Nightmares.” Derek said quietly, looking at the window.
Stiles froze where he had been fiddling with papers at his desk, he turned to Derek.
“You too?” He asked softly, setting the papers down and sitting on the edge of the bed.
The bed shifted as Derek slid himself to the edge and sat next to Stiles.
“Still to this day.” Derek admitted.
Stiles reached over and put an arm around Derek, then dropped his head to his shoulder.
“Maybe- maybe I could text you next time I have a bad night?” Stiles stammered quietly from Derek’s shoulder.
“I told you I’m here for you. I meant it.” Derek said.
“But then why didn’t you ever come to me about Boyd? You said I was there for you, but you never talked to me.” Stiles asked.
“Things were complicated, and now they are even more so.” Derek replied cryptically.
“No clue what that means, but it’s ok.” Stiles told Derek as he sat up.
Derek glanced over at Stiles, then stood up and headed for the window.
With one foot out the window, Derek turned to Stiles, “You know how to get a hold of me, just leave the window unlocked like normal.”
Stiles nodded and smiled softly. Derek’s brows softened, and a corner of his mouth may have twitched slightly upwards.

~~~ One Year Later ~~~

A cold draft creeped through the window in Stiles’ room, like it had for nearly a year now. Stiles shivered and put on an oversized sweater.
Stiles remembered it as clearly as though it were yesterday, he had texted Derek during a bad night, but forgot to unlock the window.
He had tried to grow stronger and not rely on Derek’s comforting embrace at night, but it was slow work.
That particular night, Stiles waited as long as he possibly could to text Derek before he started to black out from the panic attack.
Derek had to force the window open to get to Stiles, and it had never sealed shut since then.
Stiles smiled fondly at the memory, the smile accompanied by the usual pang of heartbreak every time he thought about Derek, saw a black Camaro, saw the red of Scott’s eyes, or the blue of Malia’s.
Derek had left with Braeden without a word to any of them. Stiles had felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest. For a while, he thought that he might have preferred a Berserker actually doing that over having to live with the constant agony.

He was finishing a diagram for biology homework when he heard that window slide open.
Stiles spun around and raised the pencil like a knife.
“Really Stiles, I’m not a vampire, staking me with a pencil won’t do anything other than irritate me.” Derek’s voice came from outside the window as he lowered his legs to the floor.
Stiles dropped the pencil.
“Derek?” Stiles voice broke as Derek smiled, actually, genuinely smiled at him.
“Get the fuck out.” Stiles demanded coldly, picking his pencil up and sitting back down at his desk.
“Whoa, did I miss something?” Derek asked in shock.
“Only a whole year!” Stiles spun in his chair and shouted, “Only saying goodbye, only giving a reason for leaving, only saying you’re sorry, only almost an entire year of the life of the one person that I know of who is in love with you!”
“Stiles, I-“ Derek began to apologize.
“No, I’m not done yet. I’ve waited a year to say all this, and I’m going to say all of it, right now.” Stiles cut him off, standing up and brandishing an accusatory finger.
Derek nodded his head silently.
“You know what I realized when I saw you bleeding to death? You know why I hesitated to go help Scott? Because I realized I never told you that I loved you. I thought you were going to die without me getting the chance to tell you.”
Tears were streaming down Stiles’ face, and his breath was coming in ragged sobs.
“Why did you leave? You have any idea how hard it was to see you die and then ‘poof’ not-dead Derek plus full wolf shift? And then you ran off without a word!? You flipped my world upside down twice in the space of a couple minutes. That’s what you do to me Derek.”
Stiles’ breath was now dangerously sharp, and he leaned against his chair precariously.
A split second after they locked eyes, Derek lurched forward and, just like the first time, hugged Stiles.
Stiles didn’t resist, but he didn’t hug Derek back either.

“I had already grown to like you Stiles, and that month when I spent almost every other night with you, that just compounded it. But you had just broken up with Malia, so I didn’t know what to do or say about my feelings. But in the van, when you talked about the triskelion, and about Satomi’s control chant, I just knew. It hit me like a ton of bricks.” Derek explained quietly over Stiles’ shoulder.
Derek sighed and continued, “I knew for sure in that moment that I had fallen in love with you Stiles Stilinski. But then I witnessed what watching me suffer on the brink of death did to you. I couldn’t bear to put you through that ever again. At the same time, it hurt so much to leave, I couldn’t even look at you or say anything. The best I could do was nod at Scott and then try to distract myself from thinking about you by leaving with Braeden.”
Stiles huffed shakily at him, “You broke my heart to keep my heart from getting broken. Sound logic right there.”
“I’m here to mend it Stiles. If you’ll let me.” Derek said hopefully, pulling back, holding Stiles’ shoulders and looking into his eyes.
“I only regret that you actually have to fix it Derek, we could’ve had a whole extra year to ourselves.” Stiles lamented as he looked up at Derek.
At those words, Derek’s hands dropped and he looked away, pain flashing across his face.
“Hey, I forgive you, if you’ll just… promise not to leave again.” Stiles said softly, putting a hand on Derek’s chest.
“I promise I won’t leave you again.” Derek whispered, his brows furrowing in pain as his eyes watered.
Stiles stepped forward and grinned widely up at Derek. The pain vanished from his face and was replaced with a gentle smile and a warm glow.
“God I almost forgot how beautiful you are.” Derek whispered as his eyes roamed Stiles’ face, drinking in every last mole.
“I had that picture that Liam took of all of us one night just after wrapping up a meeting.” Stiles admitted.
“The picture where you decided to lay across me?” Derek asked flatly.
“Hey! Scott pushed me off the arm of the couch, I fell across you Sourwolf.” Stiles shot back with a laugh.
Derek beamed at the sound of his old nickname coming from Stiles.

Time froze.
Silence fell.
Derek could feel his heart pounding against Stiles’ hand and he could hear the machine gun fire of Stiles’ own heart.
They weren’t even a foot apart, and Derek was becoming intoxicated by the scent he had missed for so long.
Stiles’ tongue poked nervously out to wet his lips, and Derek’s eyes flicked down momentarily.
When he looked back up, he and Stiles stared into each others’ eyes. The whiskey brown of Stiles’ eyes looked so deep and lonely to Derek, and the green-gold of Derek’s looked so longingly into Stiles’.
Derek didn’t have the chance to lean down before Stiles’ dragged him down by the shirt, pressing their lips firmly together.
The swiftness that Stiles displayed shocked Derek, but he didn’t miss a beat, sliding his hands around Stiles’ lower back to bend him backwards.
He deepened the kiss as he leaned Stiles backwards slightly, and Stiles’ spare hand found its way into the hair on the back of Derek’s head.
Stiles scraped his fingernails against Derek’s scalp as Derek sucked on his tongue.
Derek pulled back, but only for a moment before diving back in, breathlessly exclaiming, “Fuck.”
He leaned back in, kissing more gently this time. Derek was tender, loving, in the way he kissed Stiles now.
Stiles relaxed his grip on Derek’s shirt and ran his hand over the area, smoothing the wrinkles before gently gliding his hand up to Derek’s cheek.
Each kiss became smaller and smaller, each more chaste than the last.
Eventually they stepped apart, and Derek took Stiles’ hands.
“Only one year late, still, better late than never.” Stiles admitted with a smirk.

“So where does this leave us?” Derek asked as he ran his thumb across the back of Stiles’ hand.
“Together, it seems. Finally.” Stiles quipped with a smirk.
With a quick step forward, Stiles hugged Derek, leaning his face against Derek’s wide chest.
“Finally.” Derek said softly.
“Derek… are you hard?” Stiles asked mischievously.

-to be continued hehehe-

Someone asked me how I can possibly read and review so many fanfictions….well, I have a process and it’s all about staying on top of archiving completed emails.

This is what the Social tab in my inbox looks like this morning (at 10:30am). It looks like this EVERY morning and sometimes there are even MORE emails depending on you lot and how often you’re updating your fics. By 10:30am, I’ve usually archived more of them than this - but I’ve had a busy morning at work and haven’t been able to deal with many of them yet.

The emails marked read but not archived means that I’ve actually READ the chapter update and just haven’t reviewed it yet (mainly because I read it this morning on mobile while I was blow drying my hair or something or (in the case of one of the fics) I’m struggling with the exact wording of a review. It’s been plaguing me since I read the chapter yesterday and so since I’m struggling to find the words, it’ll remain in my inbox until I find them) 

If it’s not a chapter update - if the reply notification is still in my inbox it means that I’ve seen the reply to my review and will likely be replying to the reply (I don’t always reply to the reply if not feeling particularly verbose that day or if the original reply to my review was “thanks so much for reading” - I don’t generally reply to those reviews. But generally - if you reply to me, I’m more than happy to continue the conversation. See above re: verbose).

As I review, I archive immediately and then hopefully by the end of the night all the old emails are archived and the new ones are addressed too. Tuesday nights are particularly bad for me to keep on top of things because I lead a group of Young Womens at my church on Tuesday nights and that’s not really conducive to fic reading… though I DO have two girls who love Riverdale… they just prefer Archie. It breaks my heart but there it is. (their actual words were they’d “take Archie’s looks but Juggie’s personality” - to which I nearly made them get out of the car and WALK home yesterday. It was a tense drive home. lol)

I just counted - and I received 37 fandom related emails on June 6th. That included 4 from tumblr telling me “You have 8 new followers” (not sure why sometimes I get an email about one specific follower and then other times I get ones about 17 followers all at once. I have no idea how that works). 

So yes. Process. This isn’t counting when I start reading any NEW fics at Ao3. I get emails from authors I have on Subscription but every day I also go to the Betty/Jughead tag and I follow @ao3feed-jugheadxbetty to see new fics by new authors. I review and subscribe immediately if it’s a fic I know I’m gonna want to settle in and follow. 

AND then all your tumblr fics. I’ve been doing my best to convince you Bughead writers on tumblr to archive on Ao3 (mainly because I find it’s easier to bookmark and subscribe to stuff there and I know you’re all about making things convenient for ME) - but then I always do a round once a day of my favourite tumblr fic writers to see if they’ve updated anything new. Some of you are quite prolific (I’m looking at YOU @bughead4days - not that I’m complaining. Eeek. Don’t stop being prolific!) - so I gotta keep on top of it as best I can… 

All while still having a full time job, two teenagers and a tween, a hot husband who is kinda high maintenance but that whom I still like to kiss a lot, pretty hefty church responsibilities, making time to set aside moments to beta stories for author friends (only two at the moment and I love you both @raptorlily and @gellbellshead (that draft in my email is for YOU!)), attempt to write my OWN story (and deal with my own conflicting issues of inadequacy whilst being a perfectionist) not to mention time to compile my giant Bughead fic spreadsheet (that is seriously SERIOUSLY behind - like woefully behind. You would all KICK ME OUT OF THE FANDOM if you knew how far behind). 

So yeah. That’s the morning in the life of THIS fangirl. I’m out of breath even thinking about it. I should probably just go read some fic and maybe review. lol.

(and yes - I have an Adult Wednesday Addams wallpaper on both my computer at work and at home - I’m nothing if not devoted… as you probably already know. lol.)

Title: this is the ship thingy, so it has no title

Characters: Haytham Kenway x Reader, mention of Connor

Warnings: nsfw at some point


Gives nose/forehead kisses:

 You! Haytham has a reputation to uphold and isn’t into PDA other than having a hand at your waist or an arm around your shoulders. You forgive him though, and he doesn’t mind when you press a quick kiss to his forehead every once and awhile when in public, even if the Templars give him shit for it.

Gets jealous the most:

This one goes to you as well! Haytham is a lady killer, no doubt, so when you see women begin to flock about him you immediately go rigid and purse your lips whilst scooting closer to him. Haytham secretly feels proud at how you can ward off these women with just a look. If you’re not near him when it happens, he’ll just shoot you a wink before excusing himself and making his way over to you. 

Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk to drive:

Haytham! He never allows himself to get drunk in public, whether you’re with him or not. It’s too much of a risk to be putting himself into, especially when you’re with him. He likes to aware of his surroundings at all times, which allows you to get as hammered as you want. 

Takes care of the other on sick days:

You, much to Haytham’s vexation. He’ll come down with a head cold or cough and insist that he’s fine, but one very pointed look from you has him sighing and making his way back up the stairs and to bed. He seriously starts to consider who really is the Grandmaster in this relationship. 

Drags the other person out into the water on a beach day:

You again! Haytham is always too busy to be near a beach when it isn’t necessary, so you’re usually the instigator of these trips. He’ll huff and puff about it being too hot or the water being too cold and that you two should be off doing something more rewardable, but you manage to get him into the water and he enjoys himself. 

Gives unprompted massages:

Haytham, and he’s very, very good at it.  He knows courting a Templar, especially the Grandmaster, can take its toll on you and to show how much he appreciates you staying with him he’ll begin to massage your shoulders or calfs, hands working around your body until you’re completely relaxed. 

Drives/rides shotgun:

You both are in the carriage together most of the time, so neither of you ride shotgun or “drives” anywhere unless on horse, and Haytham usually has hold of the reigns while you sit in front of him. 

Brings the other lunch at work:

Neither, you will go out to eat if anything or meet him back at home to eat

Has the better parental relationship: 

Haytham. His father taught him how to defend and think for himself, and did die protecting him and his mother so…this makes you kinda miffed too because Edward certainly did not teach Haytham to be such a dick father??? 


Tries to start role-playing in bed:

Haytham. He’s into BDSM and orgasm denial, he likes to hear you beg for him. The safe word is grandmaster and he always holds you afterwards, petting your hair and whispering how good you were in your ear. He also likes it when you wear his hat???

Embarrassingly drunk dance:

You, but only because Haytham doesn’t get drunk. He’ll watch you in amusement as you prance around him, giggling around your slurred words that he can barely comprehend as you try to drag him into dancing with you.

Still cries during Titanic:

titanic does not exist

Firmly believes in couples costumes:

Haytham enjoys matching his outfits with yours, especially if you become a Templar he just has a field day with that one. Your robes will match his and there will be no question about it. 

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas:

Haytham again and you nearly want to smack the proud grin off his face because he promised he wasn’t going to get you anything expensive. You feel bad that you can’t afford to give him a gift like that and he gets all cheesy and says that you’re the only gift he wants

Makes the other breakfast:

Neither of you only because mornings together are usually spent with him having to get ready to go somewhere while you watch comfortably from the bed. 

Remembers anniversaries:

The both of you do! Though he might deny it, Haytham is a sentimental little shit and remembers the day you two first met like it was yesterday. 

Brings up having kids:

You do and it nearly makes Haytham choke. He already has Connor and he fucked up that relationship so he isn’t very keen on having other children. You’ll save this conversation for another time. 

Thursday Rambles

1. Last night I had one of the worst migraines of my life. I was really tired when I got home from work and lay down for a nap. When I woke up I felt horrible. I was also really hungry, so I ordered a delivery burrito, but by the time it arrived I was too nauseous to eat it. After taking a bunch of Advil and sitting on the sofa in the dark with an icepack on my forehead for while, I felt okay enough to get up and get ready for bed. I still had a little bit of a headache when I woke up this morning but it wasn’t nearly as bad. I called in to work though, mostly because I had stuff I needed to do last night (freelance stuff that was due yesterday) that I wasn’t able to do.

When I saw my doctor a few weeks ago we talked about my migraines and he offered me migraine meds and I declined. “I think they’re triggered by allergies,” I said. “I’m going to start using Flonase and see if that helps.” Fuck that, give me the Imitrex. I’ll be calling him today.

2. I’m having dinner with my parents and my Uncle Lumpy tonight. Uncle Lumpy isn’t really my uncle, just a long-time friend of my parents. And his name isn’t actually Lumpy, it’s Michael. (When I asked my mom why they started calling him Lumpy, she said “I don’t know, we just thought he was kind of lumpy.” I’m still not sure what that means.) Anyway, I haven’t seen Lumpy since I was maybe 14. He used to live in Cincinnati and would come spend a lot of the holidays with us, but he’s lived in Seattle for the last 20+ years. My parents have seen him a few times while in Seattle for other reasons, but I haven’t. I’m excited. I always thought he was so fun when I was a kid. His nickname for me was Rin-Rin and he’d always say it with such excitement when he saw me. I really hope that’s how he greets me tonight.

3. In my copious spare time at work I’ve been reading Existential Psychotherapy by Yalom. Right now I’m on the chapter about death anxiety. I’m really attracted to both depth psychology and existential-humanistic psychology but I feel like literally no one around me is doing or even thinking about this kind of work. It’s all CBT, motivational interviewing, etc etc. Those things are evidence-based and they have their place but I want to go deeper. Even during my own last round of therapy, I kept feeling like I was trying to delve deeper into some things and was dragging my therapist along behind me. I’ve realized that I’m not ready to go into private practice because this is the kind of work I want to do, but I don’t know enough yet. I don’t want to be another therapist handing out worksheets on cognitive distortions. I can recognize and challenge all my own distorted thinking and guess what? I’m still anxious as fuck! I want to take another approach. I have an idea about how I’m going to go about acquiring the training I want, but I’m not ready to talk about it yet. :)

4. Speaking of work, there’s an opening at my old job, my very first social work job. I swore I’d never go back. It’s high stress and the workload is unmanageable and I always worked more than 40 hours a week. I know that part hasn’t changed. However. It’s also true that that job became particularly miserable because 1) I had a really fucked up, dysfunctional relationship with my LCSW supervisor, and 2) J and I worked together and were having an incredibly tumultuous, tortured, secretive workplace romance. Neither my former supervisor nor J work there anymore, so there would be way less drama. And I think they’d come close to matching my current pay, and they offer a LOT of time off, which is valuable to me. And, importantly, it’s one of the few places I could do long-term individual therapy, which I need to be doing for the aforementioned training I want to get. So… I think I will at least apply and see what happens.

5. Time to stop babbling and get some things done!

Back In Time Pt.2

Catch Up: Part 1

Group(s) & Members(s): Got7′s Mark 

Genre: angst

Warnings: none

A/N: Happy Holidays, heres some angst!

You felt that sandpaper in your throat first, and then the ache in your bones. Everything was cold and everything hurt and you knew that this wasn’t good. 

Of course you would get sick. That’s what you get for breaking down and having a cry session on the cold hard ground  as the icy wind nipped at you. 

All because of him. But what did he do wrong, really? move on? He did what you should have done, what you should be doing. Frankly, you thought you were doing a good job of it until you saw him with his hand in hers. You were much weaker than you realized and no with your body feeling like this, you were weak in heart, mind and body. 

Groaning, you lift yourself up slightly but even that was too much, every small movement raking against the sensitive nerves on your skin. 

You resolved to just laying back and sleeping more when your doorbell rang out once, and then again not seconds after. 

A sigh escapes you as you slowly maneuver out of bed, grabbing one of the fleece blankets you had piled on top of your comforter and wrapping it around yourself as another chill skirted through you. 

It rang again and you wanted to yell out in frustration but the soreness of your throat made you wince in pain. 

The cold of the locks on your door sent an unpleasant sting through your fingers and you opened the door slowly. 

“What took you so long, Y/N I’ve been waiting forever and it’s freezing out -” 

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iwillgodownwiththisshipdenise  asked:

Could you write a fic about Skye being sick and mama may taking care of her?

I’m all about the Mama May! I adored this prompt, so thanks for giving it to me! I hope you enjoy!

It started with the sniffles. That’s how it always begins. At first, it isn’t noticeable, just irritating. Little sniffs here and there. Your nasal passages progressively get more and more clogged, to the point where you can’t breathe through it.

That was how it began for Skye. Her nose was felt funny when she woke up in the morning, but she wrote it off as dust, or something trivial like that. In a world of spies and gifted individuals, there were far more important things then awkward-feeling noses.

By the end of the day, she sat with a box of tissues by her side as she worked. Every few minutes, she snatched up another one and blew, a loud, honking noise that attracted more than one curious look. Hunter actually laughed at her, and she kicked him in the gut.

The following morning, Skye was greeted with a rough, hacking cough the moment she opened her eyes. It made her throat raw and her chest ache. She was granted a few minutes of peace before another one wracked her body.

“Awesome,” she mumbled. “Just awesome.”

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Yesterday we woke up at 4:30am, drove a total of 12 hours, waited a total of 8 hours, and got a speeding ticket, but it was completely worth it. I am so thankful that they took the time to meet us yesterday even though they were running late for their flight and probably just as tired as we were. This band makes me feel happy and I will follow them to the ends of the earth. I will never be able to thank them enough for the positive impact they have had on my life, but I know they understand. |-/

What happened to Joss Whedon yesterday, and why it’s a super bad thing for everyone.

Spoilers for Age of Ultron and such.

On the one hand:

I thoroughly enjoyed The Avengers: Age of Ultron, having seen it only once so far. In particular, I liked the character developments they gave to Hawkeye, The Hulk, and Black Widow, and though the film was tonally very different from the first film, that was not nearly as bad a thing as I thought it would be. Sure, there was an absence of Whedon-ish dialogue with rare exceptions (”Well… I was born yesterday”), but Whedon-ish dialogue doesn’t belong everywhere, and this film was probably a good example of where not to put it.
And the female characters were not only well-written, they were varied. It would have been cheap and easy to make all the major female characters some variation on Black Widow, but they weren’t. For example, Laura’s character was so normal under the circumstances (welcome 5 extra superheroes into her house like it’s no big deal, put them up for the night, smuggle Nick Fury into her shed for a pep talk, send everyone off with well-wishes the next morning) that it almost seems miraculous.

And I found nothing wrong with the aspects of Black Widow’s character which leaned towards what you might call traditional femininity, i.e. motherhood.

I don’t believe Joss Whedon deserved any of the hate that he got because I genuinely don’t believe there was anything to complain about in this instance, whether you generally like Joss Whedon or not.

On the other hand:

I don’t want this to sound like victim-blaming, but it probably will anyway, so here goes.

This was always going to happen. Today, next month, next year, some time in the future, the rabid feminists of Twitter were going to turn on Joss Whedon.
And I’m not saying that he should necessarily have foreseen it, but he most definitely backed the wrong horse. That is, he backed the horse which only cared about his support because he was, knowingly or otherwise, regurgitating rhetoric that the mob had already heard and evaluated to be absolute truth.
The moment that Joss Whedon did something to challenge that rhetoric (however unknowingly and unintentionally), that is, giving Black Widow a motherhood angle and a love interest in the form of Banner, the people turned on him.

And the really scary thing is, they turned on him as though they had always meant to do it. Reading through the wild mud-slinging being spouted by all these random Twitter people, it becomes clear that they never actually liked him. There is no conflict. There is no “Ooh, I want to like Whedon, but this is beyond the pale”. There’s no “Gosh, Whedon’s usually so good at this sort of thing, what happened?” There’s just “Aha! Whedon’s a misogynist, racist, transphobe! I knew it! I always knew it!”

There is no substitute for a network of friends, or a group of fans, that you know you can trust. And I doubt Whedon can trust either of his to do right by him.

What does this mean?

If this controversy blows up hard enough, it may actually have a marked negative effect on female characters in cinema.

Black Widow was a well-rounded, well-written, entertaining female character.

For the crime of writing her as such, Joss Whedon was harassed to the extent that he deleted his Twitter account.

This is what I call the Wonder Woman paradox in action: The reason that she may never get a movie is because nobody wants to write the script.

The people who demand the existence of a Wonder Woman movie have also, inadvertently, set the bar way too high. I was telling judging-arguments-by-their-merit many months ago, any slight deviations in Wonder Woman’s character or writing that the louder sections of her audience don’t like are going to be lambasted, and held up as proof that Hollywood can’t write a good woman, or they just don’t care, or whatever fits their preordained narrative. Ironically, for all that they want a Wonder Woman movie, they will end up hating her character. And nobody wants to write that script, because if they screw up (and they will screw up) they will never hear the end of it.

How right I turned out to be. But it wasn’t Wonder Woman, it was Black Widow. Which is almost as bad.

See, if this does blow up hard enough, then scriptwriters in Hollywood might actually start shying away from writing decent female characters, or any female characters at all. “Oh no” they might say, “That’s far too big a risk. Remember what happened to Joss Whedon? We thought he was good at writing female characters, but even Black Widow wasn’t good enough for the audience.”

Yes, I am saying that the people who are pushing for better representation for female characters in cinema, are in fact making it harder to have better representation for female characters in cinema.

Another glorious victory for social justice.

Hartwin Fic: The Little Things

because I’ve had a shitty day, so here is 1000 words of fluff

The biggest problem with having a kid sister in daycare is that inevitably they’re sick all the time. And then they bring those germs home. And even a bulletproof suit doesn’t provide protection from a virus. 

“This sucks,” Eggsy grumbles. 

“I know,” Harry soothes. He’s heard every variation of the above complaint for the past two days. By now he barely even notices it anymore. “More soup?" 

"No,” Eggsy says sullenly, so stuffed up it sounds more like Do. “I’m sick of soup. I want real food." 

"Not until your fever breaks,” Harry says in his most reasonable voice as he gathers up the dirty dishes and used tissues and piles it all on a tray. 

Eggsy makes a face, looking remarkably like Daisy just then. He grabs the remote control for the TV, slouches further down on the couch and huffs out a sigh, then breaks into a hacking cough that sounds painful. 

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Last month my lovely friend winkirino sent me a letter and on it she created Fifth Sector’s address. The postcode was created using the numbers that can be use to symbolise the name Ishido (which we know Level 5 like to do anyway):

I’ve had this letter for nearly a month now but yesterday when I looked at it I noticed that the numbers also made up 14x10 Kidou and Gouenji’s numbers and so I started fangirling thinking it was Gouenji’s way of letting Kidou know that he still loves him even though he’s playing the bad guy!! (๑・ω-)~♥”

I hope I did a good job with it Yuna and now there’s nothing that can’t dissuade me from thinking that GouKi is totally canon *。٩(ˊωˋ*)و✧*。 

Note: I wanted to post this yesterday, but I wrote it and deleted it probably six times.  I like this version though.  Happy belated birthday, Amy and Halley!

Amy thought that she would hate sharing her birthday with a little girl.  It was already close to Christmas so that was annoying.  But sharing a birthday with Halley wasn’t nearly as bad as she assumed.  First, no one forgot her like she assumed they would.  There hadn’t been a year since the little girl had been born that Amy was pushed to the back burner.  Sheldon, especially, always made Amy feel like a princess on the day.

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Ons Light Novel 3 Chapter 4 (Part 1)

Title: Demonic Love

Disclaimer: This is a fan-made translation from Chinese translations! Please go easy and enlighten us on any mistakes or deviations from the original light novel. All credit goes to the original author and illustrators. - Hyaka and Kuro Shion

*Chapter 4 is a very long chapter, expect a few parts!


It’s morning.

A normal classroom in First Shibuya High.

The fourth lesson of the day was a self-study block. Having the self-study block placed right before the afternoon break meant a longer break time for all students. Thus, a lot of students have already left the classroom.

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Arkham is the New Blackgate: Family Matters

“My fellow Gods, it seems my Hera has not come to visit me yet. None have you have seen Hermes come and deliver a letter yet?”

“No Maxie…just like yesterday.”

Nearly a week had passed since the incidents during the Visitor’s Day. Davis was finally out of ISO and had a day to be around the public again. Though he was getting used to actually talking to people and the brand new collar. Plus he had seen something rather unsettling after his already bad trip down to ISO. At least he looked better. The Venom had gone through his system at long last.

The Rogue’s table as it was being affectionately called was back to its basics again. Sure the new comer Danny Byrd was sitting there, but he wasn’t causing too much problems. He was munching on a sandwich that his uncle had given him. “Do you want some?” he asked Zhora. “It’s PB and J.”

Davis meanwhile was nudging at the Jell-O with this disgusted look on his face. “This is disgusting” he grumbled. “Why did I even bother ordering this?”

“I’ll have some” Patrick said holding out his hands. Davis slid it over to him without a second thought. “This is great.”

“I got some goodies on my end” Drury said. “Who wants some trades for ‘em?” Zhora wouldn’t need anything. He already lid her a Hershey bar for free. Her cooking was good enough for at least one freebie.

Excerpts from Hawke's journal, as requested by loquaciousquark

Fenris stops in a small inn outside Val Foret when he cannot walk anymore, the road looming larger than he would have thought. Travelling without meaning is harder than fleeing, and he realizes that too late.

There is a village some miles from the Imperial Highway, and he thinks perhaps he might see about settling there, some place where no one would think to look for an elf alone. He does not know what services he could offer, but something will work out.

If it does not, he shall move on again.

The room is small but serviceable, and there is a bath with tepid water, materials that he might scour salt and dust from his armor. Perhaps he will stay longer than a day.

He unpacks to find clean leggings, a tunic, anything, and the books tumble out then, tucked between a small stack of letters and an empty waterskin.

He does not know how the collection of books came to be in his pack. When they fled Kirkwall, all the books he had amassed had to be left behind. He brought only A Slave’s Life, and only because it meant more to him than just being a book. It was the first book he read; it was a gift from Hawke. There was still hope for him in the words, even if Shartan believed in the Creators and not in the Maker, even if he knew that Andraste’s promises of freedom would be betrayed and Fenris was living proof.

These books are slim, without names on the covers, and when he opens one, he can see that some of the pages are blank. Others are covered with small handwriting that he knows well and it feels like a blow to see it again.

They are journals; they are Hawke’s journals.

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