we have to be numb

we were little girls with messy hair who wanted to shoot lasers at the people who hurt us. we made our barbies fly, made them spies, made them as strong as we wanted to be. they could stand up to the bullies. when we were older, we would ask, “where are the female superheroes?”

“it’s just a movie,” we were assured, “and what’s wrong with being the girl next door?”

we were angry adolescents with no safe direction to lash out in. we were not allowed to be violent. those of us who turned to our playstation were embarrassed for it. many of us were bullied. many of us turned to fantasy. when we were older, we would ask, “why is there only one playable girl character in this whole game?”

“video games are art,” we were sneered at, “i’m sick of these fake gamer girls ruining our media.”

we were high school girls who were worried we weren’t being kissed fast enough, even at 15. we felt shame boil up around our ears when men leaned out of cars to sling slurs at us. we wanted to feel good about ourselves but were sent home for showing our shoulders. what were we telling people by being so in love with our bodies that we showed them off in any small way. when we were older, we would ask, “why does this advertisement for socks have a barely-18-year-old girl lying mostly-naked on a bed?” we saw our own 18-year-old self, who could barely kiss right and still trembled about sex.

“relax,” we were told, “if you don’t like it, don’t look. if you’re mad they’re selling you your clothes like this, just don’t buy from them.”

we turned into tired adults. we have our fires burnt out. we have explained and explained until our tongues turned numb why we deserve to be able to live without fear. we got sick of being teachers. any dent we made was quickly refilled. we were sick of trying to talk to people who would never change their minds about us. we were sick of it. and we still asked: “where am i? where are the people who look like me?”

i once was in a coffee shop sighing to a friend, “why don’t people get that not every girl has the same body or same metabolic system” and i was interrupted by a large man who has no idea how i eat or how much i weigh or how healthy i might be, and he loudly and briskly informed me, “Victoria’s Secret models have a more common body type than you think. If you’re so pissed about not being like the girls on tv, how about you change what you look like?” i had gone 6 days without eating. 

so we made it up. we gave barbie a cape and our spotted dog the ability to control the weather. we wrote barely-legible fanfiction about vampires who were also terribly in love with us - because we were perfect in this world, unlike the mess of what really was - we crafted entire sub-stories about how the main characters in our favorite universes were secretly girls in disguise. we made 17-year-old characters who would cut the throats of anyone who hurt them. we drew pictures of women in full, angry armor. we wrote bad poems about the girls we loved and the ones we were jealous of. we hurt ourselves often, were excellent at denying ourselves in the name of something. we only ate salad, we wouldn’t touch grease, we didn’t buy certain things, didn’t get dirty. we used things to fill the gaps. bath bombs. fussy boots. venti iced mocha half-caf.

we made it up. we flooded the market. we put up pictures of ourselves smiling, with messy hair and silly faces, with back fat, with smudged makeup. we made videos perfecting our lips. we made art of possible fashion - all with pockets. 

a few girls take selfies at a sports event. they are slandered across the news for it. 

can you imagine? can you imagine the selfishness? the audacity? the self-possession one must feel to take a picture of themselves where they control everything? 

we don’t belong. images of us have to be photoshopped. made in buildings with perfect lighting. a young girl in underwear. we don’t belong. we don’t exist. keep quiet. if you don’t like it, don’t look at it.

Gentle reminder that you don’t have to have Hell Brain™ ringing on your doorbell every five seconds to be mentally ill. Sometimes we have good patches. Sometimes we become numb and void and stop feeling so bad. Your neurodivergence is not something that disappears just because you’ve grown used to it or it fades into the background. It’s still there, you’re still valid.

Unexpected, a small Shangst Fic

Enough softness, lets have some angst again shall we?
——————————-

Shiro felt numb. They’d won the battle. But they’d lost something far more precious.

Sparkling blue eyes filled with joking laughter, a bright grin that never faltered. Slim fingers attached to waving hands that emphasized his speech, soft tan skin that was cared for almost religiously, fluffy chocolate brown hair that felt silky to the touch. Lanky legs that could both kick you across the room yet run to your aid in a flash, steady arms that could cut through ocean waves easily.

All gone, vanished beneath cold crushing rocks from a cave in during a rescue mission. The team and the target got out.

Lance didn’t.

Shiro merely stared at the black helmet in his hands, trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong. Where had the plan failed? The ambush, the Galra warship, the troops attacking, Lance shouting for them to run and get to the Lions, the screaming former prisoner, the sharp pain in his leg, the sound as the cave buckled in on itself.

The realization that Lance wasn’t next to them once they’d reached the Castle.

Pidge was currently inconsolable, sobbing into Hunk’s chest as the on screen vital from Lance’s suit displayed an unwavering line across the holoscreen. Keith had left, presumably to destroy a few Gladiator bots in his grief and anger at losing a brother.

Shiro noted the scraped and scratched parts of his gloves. Oh, that’s right, he’d tried to dig Lance out. He’d run all the way back and tried to claw away the suffocating dirt and rubble that his boyfriend was currently lying under.

He swallowed thickly and felt the rough pain in throat, faint memories of screaming Lance’s name flitting across his mind’s eye. He’d dug and dug until Allura had pulled him away, explaining that the entire cave had collapsed and there was no way to get the Blue Paladin out of there.

So now he was numb, staring at the helmet that proclaimed him the leader of Voltron, a harsh reminder of his failure. Because how could he be a protector of the universe if he couldn’t even protect his greatest treasure?

Some leader he was, failing to protect his teammate. Even Blue had shut down, seemingly grieving her Paladin. And it was all Shiro’s fault, no matter how much the others tearfully assured him there was no way of knowing the Galra would pull a dirty trick like that.

The funeral was tomorrow. They’d leave flowers over the caved in area where Lance lay buried. They couldn’t even recover the body or bury him on Earth where his family was. A faint flicker of frustration flickered through Shiro’s heart before it was swept away by more grief.

He couldn’t cry, he was still in too much shock to really react now, but he did look up at Coran’s gentle touch to his shoulder.

He barely recalled exiting the area to go to his room, stripping off his armor and collapsing into bed.

His pillow still smelled faintly of Lance, like an ocean breeze and chocolate.

However, it smelt like salt in the morning.

—————————–
It’s not over yet. You’ll see in a little while, when I wake up again. Patience my dear readers, patience.

Family Reunions Pt 2

Jason Todd x Reader

A/N:  I really hope everyone likes this.  I really tried not to make it too long, but it’s whatever. (Requests are open please send them)

Summary:  After meeting part of the Batfam, to Jason’s surprise you invite all of them to dinner.

Part 1

After breakfast, Dick got a call from work and took Tim back to the manor.  Meanwhile Jason had finally woken up to the sounds of dishes rattling and shuffling in the kitchen.  He winced as he sat up glancing at his fresh bruises and raw shoulder.  As he drug himself out of bed and down the hallway to the kitchen he noticed three unwashed coffee mugs sitting on the counter.

    “Thirsty?” He commented, suspicious.

    “Jason,” she smiled. “How’s your shoulder?  I put some medicine on it this morning, I thought I might numb some of the pain-”

    “Did we have company this morning?” Jason interrupted.

    “Oh just your brothers,” y/n mumbled.

    “What?  They followed me home?!”

    “Jason!” y/n shouted over him.  “It’s okay, I talked out some things with Dick and Tim.  They just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

    “They followed me to our home, y/n,” Jason elaborated.  “This is not okay!  I’m going to see them.”  Jason started walking to their shared room to throw on a shirt.

    “Jason, no!” she said, making a poor attempt to block the door.  Jason glanced at her; how could she be so cute?  In his shirt trying to block him from leaving when he could easily pick her up.  “Listen I know your family isn’t the most functional, but they’re all you’ve got.”

    “Y/n, I need to have conversation with them,” he sighed, “about boundaries.”

  “Then you can talk to them tonight.  I invited your brothers, Bruce, and Alfred over for dinner.”

    “You did what?!”

    “Jason, listen!” She shouted.  “They don’t know me, at all, and they very suspicious people so I need to have a good impression.  Plus, you know they’ll come back here either way, they might aswell be invited.”

    “Well you need to uninvite them or I won’t be here when they come over-”

    “Jason Peter Todd they are going to be our guests and you are going to deal with it!” Y/n yelled, storming out of the room.  Jason threw his face into his hands and groaned, well tonight should be eventful.

————————————–

    It was around six twenty when y/n came out of their room in a new dress ready to meet Jason’s whole family.  She sauntered down the hallway pleased with the sight in front of her, a spotless apartment and her gorgeous boyfriend putting the finishing touches on their dinner.  She snuck up behind him and wrapped her arms around his torso as he kept their meal warm on the stove.

    “Hello, handsome,” she grinned into his back.

    “Hey, beautiful,” he smiled turning around and giving her a peck on her forehead.

    “Like what you see?” she asked.

    “I always do-”  Before Jason could finish his sentence there was a knock at the door.  “What the hell?  One of the neighbors?”

    “Don’t worry, it’s your family,” she stated.

    “How do you know?”

    “They never buzz in.”

    Y/n strolled over to the door and pulled it open to reveal Dick and Tim in the same clothes they were from this morning.

    “Hi boys,” she greeted.  “Come on in, Jason’s making dinner.”  They followed y/n into the kitchen where Jason was.

    “Hey baby bird,” Dick grinned.  “How’s the shoulder?”

    “Sore, but fine,” Jason responded, uninterested.

    “Hello, Jason,” Tim said.

    “Hey, replac-,” Jason was cut off when he noticed a hard glare coming from y/n.  “Tim.  Hello, Tim.”  Dick and Tim glanced at each other almost in shock.  He must really like y/n.

    “So where’s everyone else at?” y/n asked.

    “Oh, you know, Bruce has always been very punctual,” Dick answered.  “I bet he’ll buzz in exactly at six thirty.”  Right as Dick finished speaking someone buzzed in to come up to their appartment and low and behold Dick was right, it was six thirty.  Jason pressed the entrance button and in a few minutes there was a knock at the door.  Y/n was at the door in a matter of seconds primping herself on the way over.  Jason grinned at her, everything she did just made his heart beat a little quicker each time.

“So baby bird,” Dick started, “it looks like you’ve got a keeper.”  For first time in many years Dick heard Jason chuckle.

    “At least you’re right about something,” Jason snickered.

    Y/n opened the door and was greeted with a very tall handsome man who she knew to be Bruce Wayne, Alfred; who she’s seen pictures of; and a boy Jason calls “Demon spawn” also known as Damian Wayne.

    “Hello you must be Jason’s girlfriend-”

    “Y/n,” she interrupted.  “It’s really exciting to meet you, Mr.Wayne.  Please come in.”  

     “Please call me Bruce,” he responded.  They followed her from the doorway into the living room, which was now converted into a dining room.  Y/n ignored Damians judgmental glares while looking at her home.

      She smiled and turned toward the kitchen, “Babe; Bruce, Alfred, and Damian are here.”

As everyone got situated around the table a nice coversation erupted, curtisy of Alfred.  The conversation was steady and calm, putting y/n’s nerves to ease.  Everyone seemed to be getting along.  Even Damian tried to get involved in the conversation and occational bickering with his brothers.  Eventually the topic that everyone was wondering can up.

       “So y/n,” Dick started, “how did you and Jason meet?”

       “Oh my god,” Jason and y/n said simultaneously.

       “You tell it,” Jason smiled at her eagerness.

       "Okay so I had an exam for a course I was taking at Gotham University. I was studying like a mad man during the night-“

        "At four in the morning!”

         “Oh shush. So anyway I was studying and I was blasting Alexander Hamilton, one of my favorite musicals, when this idiot comes banging-”

        “Knocking.”

        “Banging on my door! So I open the door and he starts yelling at me about how he can hear my music all the way across the hall. So you know what I do?”

        “She shut the door in my face.”

        “And guess what he does.”

         "I started knocking again.“

        "Banging again! So I opened the door didn’t say anything and then closed it.”

        "Slammed it in my face, again.“

         "So to calm myself down I went to the kitchen and got something to eat.  So I turn around and see him sitting on my couch!”

         "Your window was unlocked that was dangerous.“

          "He just sat there!” she gaped.  “We stared at each other for like 2 minutes before he says ‘You’ve got guts here’s my number you should text me sometime when you’re free.’ And then he just left!”

         “God I’m good,” Jason smirked.

          “Why didn’t you call the police?” Tim gasped. “He broke into your apartment!”

          “Well he was right it was dangerous to leave my window unlocked,” she stated. “And I established just how dangerous it was when I found Redhood bleeding on my couch a week later.”

         “I basically forced her to date me,” Jason chuckled.  Everyone turned to Bruce who was laughing.

        “Maybe one of you boys,” he jestered to Dick and Tim, “should use that dating tactic.”

         “The second time he broke in he was weak, vunrable,” Damian stated. “This would have been the perfect time for you to have run and called the police.  Why didn’t you?”

         “Very true, but by then I had figured out who he was,” she smiled. “How are the police supposed to put someone in jail who’s already dead?”  It was safe to say the rest of dinner went smoothly and according to plan.

Dust and Ashes
Josh Groban & Company
Dust and Ashes

My love and admiration for Pierre Bezukhov deepens. We would really be soul mates, if not best friends. Is there a difference? We both have been lonely, awkward, ridiculed, laughed at, lazy, numb, etc. I too crave to connect to some greater essence of humanity/higher power. We both drink too much. We ALL drink to much. God, I really hope that I haven’t wasted my life at almost twenty-four. It feels that way far too often… I’ve read books, watched films, participated, and viewed theatre, but there always seems to be something I’m missing or another regret. “Bury me in Burgundy” has become a mantra of mine. I hope “I want to wake up” becomes the next. I could go on about this song for another lifetime. 

I’ll pick up with “Sunday Morning”, ironically on Sunday morning. Tomorrow I’ll be in the city all day. I’ll be at the first preview of Sunday in the Park with George. Pierre and I might agree with Seurat and his Order, Design, Composition, Tone, Form, Symmetry, and Balance.

Trains and Psychopaths » Frank Castle

Prompt:  “This creep on a train keeps flirting with me and seriously this is really scary would you please play along and pretend my boyfriend/girlfriend or husband/wife” 

Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader

Fandom: Daredevil + Marvel

Words:  784

A/N: Don’t worry, I’m still writing the requests that I have! My finals are next week and I’m studying like crazy! Wish me luck, guys! c: I might close requests soon, but I don’t know.

Originally posted by xwirsindtraumerx


Keep reading

freedom of speech
but i still try to watch
my mouth so that
you’re not offended.
freedom is my soul
but we’ve given up nature
to be commercialized
if my soul is up for grabs
i guess my heart is next
if sex sells then my lips
must have a price tag
and if your breasts don’t
fit his fetish i guess
he’ll pay in order to be satisfied
with your body, oh the irony
and they say that nothing’s
wrong in a society where
jail and prison is just another
business that’ll grow as crime rates
don’t stop and as long as we keep buying
someone’s going to get locked up
and we’re not alone, yet
we’re powerless when
we work against each other
if racism is dead then
why was my mother called
a chink recently by a black kid
down the street? children
don’t grow up mean,
we learn subtle cues from our parents,
our role models. money isn’t evil,
but we can make it deadly.
play the beer ads with
the world’s most interesting man
drinking it, i’ll give up my livers.
design a new phone and a new watch,
my wallet, you can have it too
so i can keep up with my friends
and how much fun they’re having
while sharing it on facebook,
there’s nothing wrong with a little love,
but you’ve got to love yourself enough
to see problems in a system.
it’s not perfect, it’s not perfect,
but it must work, right?
and if debt is out of hand
while we have people living
on the streets, are we too screwed
to fix things? in one way or another,
we’ve already bombed ourselves
out of existence. it’s sad really.
supply my heart more chains
and i’ll demand for imprisonment.
less trees for birds to sing,
less forests for tigers to hunt,
less flowers for bees to pollinate,
we’re so far from this place.
we turned earth into a scary place,
and venting about society
won’t fix the pieces inside of me,
or you. i guess it starts with who
we’d want to be instead of who
society says that we should be
and everyone has their share
of problems, we can’t build a bridge
if we’re on fire. we can’t stop world hunger
if we’ve got children hungry within ourselves.
we have classes for world history,
but not a single fucking course
on how to love yourself.
it’s assumed. you were taught these things
at home. like everyone has a perfect home.
you show up to school on time everyday,
you must be stable, you must be okay.
so we have school shootings because
he wasn’t loved enough, a world filled
with constant struggles, we know more
about the Kardashians than we know
who we want to be when we grow up.
it’s sad really. what’s right or wrong
if it’s played in the songs? we’re still
growing, so i guess that’s worth noting.
and i pray that we never stop growing.
we must learn how to love the guy
who worships another god,
even if he’s black that doesn’t mean
that he’s after you, even if he’s white
it doesn’t mean that he’ll oppress you,
even if he’s asian it doesn’t mean
that you should assume he’s chinese,
even if he speaks spanish
it doesn’t mean that he’s a mexican.
it starts kinda small actually,
it starts with the children.
what are they watching nowadays?
what are they really doing on those ipads?
how much are we really teaching them
while we’re rushing to make coffee in a society that’s addicted to caffeine? i’m not better
than anyone, but i can see the problem
even if i wake up every morning
and do nothing about it. just because
we don’t talk about it, it doesn’t mean that it’s not there. oh it’s there. it’s not money.
it’s the people who regulates it.
it’s just business, right?
fuck it, we’ll just make more money out
of thin air. and then one day,
the money’s going to run out.
one day, people will stop using it.
one day, the richest people will become
poor too. one day, it’ll start all over.
and i pray, that one day.
if it does happen, we’ll be given
a second chance to not fuck things up.
if we’re lucky, we’ll learn how to love
even if it’s not worth loving.
maybe rape cases won’t be shrugged off.
maybe skin won’t matter as much
and gender won’t matter too.
maybe social constructs will be
less constraining once we notice it
enough times, confined by our
own self beliefs like as long as
it doesn’t hurt me, it doesn’t matter.
there is a certain kindness
that we lack as a whole,
have you seen roadkill lately?
numb to the sight.
once you’ve been told something
enough times, even lies
start to become the truth.
tell a child that he’s average
and won’t amount to much
and he’ll most likely grow up
feeling like he’s average and
won’t amount to much.
tell a child that he’s special
and unique and he might grow up
feeling special and unique everyday.
it really does start with you.
you can change the world
even if it means you’ll need
to change yourself first.
—  societal woes
A Place to Call Home pt. 5

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

Pairing: Dylan O'Brien x Reader

Wordcount: 7,069

Warnings: Mentions of the assault, language, miscarriage 

A/N: To be honest, I thought this would come out better than I think it actually did. The idea was there, not sure the writing lived up to the idea lol. Again, thanks to Chloe ( @writing-obrien ) for helping me with the idea! I hope you guys like it! Let me know what you think! 

Originally posted by oneherecomesthetwo

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

"I don't love you" for the four word prompt

Note: Having to write about not loving someone was kinda hard, I sat for a while trying to find a way to write this without it being totally heartbreaking.


Maybe it was you two were just two kids in love, so caught up in the romance and the butterflies that you both rushed too far into things, maybe it was the harsh reality that sunk in after the romance began to die down. Maybe it was the constant cycle of a terrible and inconsistent routine that ate away at the two of you. Whatever it may have been, it left you wondering and doubting the relationship that was once so full of love and passion but is now like a burnt out fire, still smouldering hot but not igniting with bright flames and a desiring heat. 

He’s a businessman, periodically flying around to comply with his jobs’ needs and demands that bicker away at him, his priorities include his career, his career, his career, and then somewhere along the endless line of his careers needs you fall somewhere into place. 

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

"Lance, I ACTUALLY fought off a dozen bounty hunters for you a month ago, and nearly lost an arm to that freaking pet dinosaur-thing of theirs," Well THAT must've been a fun adventure XDD

I feel like y’all are baiting me, and I keep falling for the bait :D *hugs* Okay, well, since you’re curious, and since I’m all done with getting poked and prodded at the clinic (a huge thank you to those who sent me get-well messages, and thanks for everyone’s patience in general :D) — here ya go. 

That Time Keith Saved Lance From A Dozen Bounty Hunters and Their Pet Dinosaur:


Lance is tied to a tree, again, and it’s not funny … Well, it’s a bit funny. But Keith isn’t laughing when he stealthily creeps in closer, rolling his eyes when Lance spots him and then immediately tries to act casual — casually widening his eyes and proclaiming, “Hey dudes, I think I heard some kind of loud giant Lion coming from that direction. Blue should be on his way. Wanna go catch him?”

Keith is tempted to throw a rock at Lance’s head, but as he does actually care about his boyfriend, and he definitely wants him back in one piece, he refrains. Barely.

The bounty hunters laugh at him, one large butch alien hollering, “Eh, boy, why don’t you keep your loud mouth shut and let us eat our dinner in peace, yeah?”

“You won’t be getting any leftovers if you don’t learn some manners,” chimed in a thin, leather-clad female, her hand stroking over the scaled skin of what looked like a baby T-Rex. But with wings. And arms that were not ridiculously short.

Considering that Lance was in this predicament because he’d wandered outside of the city limits —precisely what they were told not to do by the Supreme Governor of the planet — Keith is tempted to let Lance sweat it out until everyone is asleep and they can escape under cover of night.

But as he closes the distance between himself and Lance, he takes in the brutally tight chains wrapped around his boyfriend, the cut on his forehead, the bruise on his cheek, his split lip … And suddenly, Keith finds himself unsheathing his bayard, gritting his teeth as he glares out towards the crew of bounty hunters.

He counts them clinically, staring with narrowed eyes — twelve armed aliens, and their winged dinosaur mascot thing … No problem.

Keith had found Lance’s bayard tangled in some vines a mile back. He manages to sneak his way to the Blue Paladin’s tree, leaning behind it, out of sight, as he soundlessly picks the lock on the chains.

Lance goes completely still, hardly daring to move. And when Keith gets the lock off, thereby enabling him to loosen the chains, Lance lets out a long, quiet breath. Keith squeezes the hands restrained behind the tree gently. When Lance grips him in return, Keith pulls back and wraps Lance’s fingers around his blue bayard.

“Wait until I’ve got about half of them down — then move.” Keith tries to whisper this near silently, and so he’s not one hundred percent sure Lance hears him — but the Blue Paladin will figure it out soon enough.

Keith sneaks back around to the other side of the camp, and then situates himself behind one of the small ATV-looking vehicles. He moves fast, turning on the engine and gunning it right into the middle of the dining bounty hunters.

There’s screaming and guns firing as he launches himself off his improvised ride, knocking out two guys with one blow. He turns to cross blades with a female alien nearly twice his size, and by the time he’s knocked out his fifth bounty hunter, he suddenly remembers the dinosaur.

Too late, because the beast has roared and plunged its teeth straight through Keith’s left arm. His shield disappears as he screams in pain — and then there’s more laser fire as Lance starts unleashing a wave of blasts that find their targets in joints and hands and feet. Keith has beaten off the dinosaur and takes care of the last few bounty hunters with one hand.

Silence falls in the woods.

Until Lance whoops and hollers, “Holy crow, Keith that was freaking amazing. I barely — oh my god, your arm!”

“Lance, it’s fine,” Keith says through gritted teeth, even as Lance rushes over, his face pale.

“Uh, no, you are bleeding all over the damn place. I think I can see bone! Oh my god, oh my —

Keith uses his good arm, the one that has just sheathed his bayard, to grab his boyfriend by the collar of his armour, and yank him into a kiss. This gets Keith some blessed quiet, and also reassures him that Lance is more or less okay. He was able to get up and fight with no problem, ramble without breathing, and is currently pressing his mouth to Keith’s like they’re every action couple in every cheesy explosion-filled movie that Lance adores … So, yes, Lance is fine.

Keith pulls back and Lance rests his forehead against Keith’s temple. “Okay. Point made. But you need some time in the cryo-pod, like stat.”

“Probably,” Keith says, avoiding looking down at his arm, which has gone alarmingly numb. “But first we have to get back to the city. You know, the city we were not supposed to set foot out of?”

Lance grins sheepishly. “So I heard a rumour that there was a gorgeous beach just a short walk through the woods —”

Keith groans. “No, don’t want to hear it. Just drive us back into town so I can watch with great satisfaction as Allura and Shiro chew you out. And then as Hunk is all nice to you and makes you feel as guilty as you should be.”

Lance swoops in to steal one last kiss before helping Keith onto the ATV and then swinging up onto it. Keith wraps his uninjured arm around Lance’s waist, and murmurs into the Blue Paladin’s ear, “If you try any fancy tricks —”

“Listen, sugar pie, I’ve got precious cargo on here,” Lance says gravely, and doesn’t flinch when Keith tries to knee him in the back. “So you best believe I’ll be smooth as butter with my stellar driving.”

Keith snorts, but holds back an insult as Lance revs the engine and begins a swift and uneventful journey back to town.

In the end, they both get lectured — Lance for leaving the city limits, Keith for going after him without back-up — but the Supreme Governor somehow feels responsible for Keith almost losing an arm, so he arranges a full day at the beach Lance had heard about. Keith gets to watch Lance swim and frolic in the sun. He gets to be pulled into crystalline waters, kissed beneath the waves, and fall asleep with Lance’s head on his chest, far-too-soft sand between his toes.

So maybe he’s not nearly as annoyed as he pretends to be later, but letting out his faux-irritation gets Lance teasing him, catering to him hand and foot, cooing over his no-longer injured arm … All in all, it actually turns out to be a pretty damn awesome week for the Red Paladin, even with the dozen bounty hunters and dinosaur that almost ate him. He’ll cling to his wins whenever he gets them. Which is probably why he’s never letting Lance go, idiot trips to alien beaches and all.


Once again, all the fluff, unleashed! I’m still a bit sleepy, so hopefully this makes some kind of sense. And I hope I answered your unspoken question ;D *many hugs* Thanks again to all you amazing people :)

I'll fix it for us

Happy Time Travel Tuesday, guys! 8D


It wasn’t often that Rex found himself confused enough to think he was back in the war. One of the rare moments was when they ended up working with the droids, and he’d called out for Cody, rather than Kanan. It had been a… real low point, for him, after they got back to base. Kanan offered to talk about it, but Rex had shut down. Zeb had suggested calling someone, and they had called Wolffe and Gregor, in the end. He’d talked to Wolffe until he’d fallen asleep, well past their planet’s midnight.

Kanan merely asked ‘you okay?’ the next morning, and getting a 'yes’ set them back to the status quo. He knew Kanan, Hera, and Zeb kept watching him, though, after that.

Keep reading

Maybe I was just not meant for love. Maybe my shores were not meant to be rested on. Maybe I was only meant for storms and sirens, and for boats to crash into rocks not kissed with lighthouses. Is it possible My topograpy is not meant to know soft? Sand covered stone can feel comfortable but burrow in and you will only feel the cold, the hard, Burrow in and you will freeze or break or both. Mountains may be  my only solace, I can look to their heights and hope and dream but their reality is unmoved and mine can stay unchanged.

Is this a cowardly thought or a noble one? Why do I analyze it so profusely? Love is an experiment, and my God, has something gone terribly terribly wrong. Green smoke billowing through frigid recycled air, there is no soul in this lab. There is no laughter or passion. There is only feeling haphazardly strewn across floor, obsession stained walls, and expectations, hanging like nooses from exposed beams in the sky.

Maybe I was not meant for love. Maybe love was built for boys not broken, maybe love just isn’t for us. Maybe we have to be satisfied with our constant struggle to feel, embrace the numbness eating away at the grey remnants of hearts deprived, just accept that our soft is sorrow, condemned by all.

—  This is not pity’s country;Kabdul
Party Girl ~ Shawn Mendes Imagine

I don’t know how I feel about this, so if it really sucks I am sorry I have just had a lot going on.

Thank you for this request, I have changed that she cheats on him because I didn’t really feel like it fitted sorry if this was what you really wanted.  

Request “Shawn and Y/N are in a relationship and he is on tour.  So, they fight, Y/N becomes a party girl.  She’s out every night at a different party, always drunk and hooking up with boys, she becomes almost an alcoholic, she uses alchol to escpae from her problems.  Shawn then finds her at a part and takes her home, they have another fight.”

 

Want to see more of my work? MASTERLIST

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

For most people, not seeing there boyfriend lasted only a few hours before they were in each other’s arms again.  But, this was not the case for you.  You had to wait months, maybe even a year sometimes before your boyfriend Shawn came back to you.  You did know this when you started talking to him, he told you it would be hard and if you did not want to be with his he totally understood.  This did not faze you, granted you have never had a relationship where the other person was not in reach to be with but the love you had for Shawn was something you thought would be able to get through anything. So, you continued to be with him.

But, that was at the beginning and having been with Shawn 2 years and only have spent 6 months of that time together did take a lot out of you.  He was once again on a tour, something he never seems to be off and if he was it was mainly spent getting ready for the next one.  You had tried your hardest, trying to cope with not having him there with you.  But, you couldn’t help but go back to your bad habit for rest bite from all that was happening in your head.  

Before you met Shawn, you were rarely sober, this was mainly because you were in college which led to you being invited to a lot of house parties.  This meant you rarely had a day away from drink of any kind.  This was until you met Shawn and all your time was focused on being with him.  Now having him being away from tour these cravings came back up.  You needed the sour but also sweet taste of burning alcohol down your throat and luckily for you it was not hard to find a house party, considering you were friends with a lot of people that either knew people who had them or had them themselves you were able to use this to your advantage.

You could not remember a night that Shawn had been away that you were sober, and you would not have had this any other way.  The pain you had before from not having Shawn with you had not passed your being for several weeks.  Your friends had worried for you, but knowing how you usually were when Shawn wasn’t here discarded it.  If you looked healthy they did not mind.  

So, like many days before you.  You were now in front of your bedroom mirror with a new dress on and ready for the new strangers that you were yet to meet.  Your dress a lot shorter than it should be for someone that was in a relationship, it was almost inviting which you did not mind.  You would never cheat on Shawn, knowing that would hurt you more than anything.  But, you did enjoy the looks men gave you, it was a good confidence boost.  Which you did need after being slatted by many news outlets.  

You collected your boots from your wardrobe and slowly slid them up your legs.  They were dark red, which complimented your complexion.  You grabbed your side bag and phone off charge before making your way towards the front door, making sure to grab your flat keys before heading out to the taxi which was waiting for you.  You did not even want to think of how much you had spent on taxis, knowing it would have been a small fortune.

The journey was not if you anticipated, and you were stepping out into the blistering cold.  You pulled your small jacket around you more before rushing up to the stairs and stepping in to the house.  You were shocked at how many people were here, when you got told it was a small gathering you did not expect to see what seemed like over a hundred people here.  Never-the-less you discarded your jacket in the pantry, and quickly making your way into the kitchen.  “Just what I need” you said aloud as you began pouring the vodka out into a red solo cup, you had not been to one party that hadn’t had these at.  Typical!

You took advantage of the free alcohol by filling your cup up a few more times before deciding to see if your friends had arrived.  You made your way into the living room taking in everyone’s faces, trying to see if there was anyone you recognised.  There was one, and you had mixed feelings on seeing him here.  You quickly moved to the garden for some air.  “Why is he here? When did he come back?  This honestly can’t be happening.”  All these thoughts ran through your head.  You knew you should be excited to see Shawn home, but not like this.  He knew about your past and you did not want him to see you and feel disappointed. You sat down on the only available chair and placed your drink down on the table which was associated in front of you.

You debated what to do, before deciding it was best if you left.  You did not want Shawn to see you.  He thought you had changed and the fact that all it takes is him to leave for tour for you to come back here.  It would just make him feel even worse for leaving you, better yet it would make you feel bad for taking him through this again.  You quickly booked your taxi and began to make your way to the front of the house.  He probably already knew you were here, he was probably thinking of ways to break up with you as we speak.  

These thoughts made you completely numb, a life without having Shawn with you is not one you want to think about.  And even thinking that you could have blew it by just coming to a stupid party made you feel sick.  “Y/N?” Shawn’s voice called from behind you calling you out of your other thinking.  You slowly turned around, silently praying that he would not be there when you had finally turned around.  Maybe the alcohol was playing mind tricks with you?  

You were very wrong, and as you cached a glimpse of Shawn’s face it was not a pleasant sight.  It was as though it was unreadable, and having been with Shawn this long you knew every look his perfectly structured face placed. But this one.  This one you had not had the displeasure of meeting.  “Y/N, what the fuck are you doing here?”  This shocked you, Shawn had rearly ever swore at you.  

“I was just coming to see some friends Shawn” you did not want to be the centre of attention at the party knowing if Shawn was any louder you would be. You turned back around towards the road hoping the taxi would turn up so you were able to continue this away from prying eyes.

There as silence for a few moments you thought Shawn had walked away from you.  That was until you heard a scoff behind you.  “Really Y/N?  Do you think I’m stupid or something?  You are so full of shit.”

This is what finally made you snap, you knew you had done wrong.  You knew Shawn should be upset with you.  But, to continuously undermine you was over the line.  “Shawn, do you not realise that I get it?!  I get that you should be upset, but it’s hard.  It’s hard not having you here for me and I am soooo sorry that me drinking to finally loose the feeling of missing you is that pathetic.  But, we aren’t a normal couple Shawn.  And that means you leave me, alone for months.  This is the only way that I forget how it feels to not have you here.  Not having you hurts Shawn.”  Tears began to fill up in your eyes as everything you had been trying to push away welled up inside you.  Everything was beginning to be too much.  This really was not how you wanted to spend Shawn’s first day back., but nothing ever goes your way it seems.

Your taxi pulled up behind you, which you slowly made your way towards until Shawn grabbed your arm and turned you back around.  You collided with his chest.  “I am so sorry Y/N.  I was being selfish and I did not think about your feelings.  But, baby you don’t need drink to make you feel whole without me. I am always here for you.  Always” Shawn wiped the remaining tears away from your cheeks as you hugged him tight.  Not wanting this to be a bad nightmare.  

As you both collected yourself you made your way home, somewhere that never felt like it without Shawn.  This night was never mentioned again, and you have never looked at alcohol again.  Not even without Shawn in your arms.  

Just Acting Chapter 12 of 13

So I thought I was done writing for this ship, but the release of Descendants 2 and the comments from some individuals has motivated me to finish this! So here you go.

Summary: In a moment of confusion and panic to avoid going out with Jane, Carlos tells her that him and Jay are dating. So him and Jay come to an agreement. They weren’t dating, or fake dating. They don’t do dating. They do arrangements. This was their fake arrangement. No feelings. Acting. Totally just acting. 

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Why do ppl bring up two things when you tell them you're suicidal? That one you'll go to hell if you do it and two you'll hurt the ppl around you. It's not fair. I wanna be okay. It's like I wanna end my pain but can't cause I'll cause more pain to others.

Pain causes pain to others, what’d you expect? It’s those closest to us that gives meaning to life. If you want an easy way out, I guess it works? There’s a lot to it, you know? Like it’s selfish, but selfless. Some fucked up duality to suicide. If you die now, yeah, it won’t hurt anymore, but someone’s going to cry forever once you’re gone and you know something, I couldn’t live with that. Life is strange, but choosing to live it… that sounds like a ride I’m willing to finish. It’s not perfect, but somehow those tiny cells inside of your body manage to keep you alive just for you to try and throw it away. Cells don’t have feelings, but we do. And maybe that’s the flaw in our design. We feel too fucking much, but do you want to hear the good news? We have the ability to forget, that numb feeling. It exists for a reason. You just have to find a good reason as to why you’re alive. I hate myself, but when I think about some kid out there that could be my son some day and how he’d need my guidance, I don’t hate myself as much anymore. All of the pain you’re feeling, it ends. One way or another, it stops. How it stops, that’s up to you. It does end, remember that.

anonymous asked:

Do you ever think that conner prayed to his dad like "i need to get to cali asap, to smooch a son of aphrodite, any help??" And then bam he gets to be at mitchell's side in like less than an hour

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

Connor clenched his jaw, focusing on the task before him. “You’ve done it.”

Travis leaned against the doorway, the screen door between the balcony and the inside of their apartment separating them. He raised an eyebrow as he stared down at his younger brother. “Katie was in the hospital for appendicitis. It was an emergency.”

Connor clicked his lighter once again - it was his favorite, a gold and black metal one he’d pickpocketed in Time Square - but it was running low. He’d need to acquire a new one soon.

Connor’s tongue poked out between his teeth as he concentrated. He shifted the black stones into a position to let them breathe better.

“This is an emergency.”

“Really,” Travis’s voice was colored with disbelief, “this is an emergency?”

Connor finally broke his focus, throwing his hands to the air. “It is, okay! It’s really important that I get there, and there’s no last minute flights out there. This is my only option, okay?”

Travis observed him for a long moment before sighing, sliding the screen door back. He rolled his sleeves up, closing the door behind him, and peered over Connor’s shoulder.

“What are you burning?”

Connor nearly fell with relief at his brother’s help. Prayer was stronger when it was together. “Some prime cut from the butcher’s shop, I know he likes it.”

“Did you get -”

“Some Reese’s Cups, yeah.”

Both boys nodded at each other, satisfied. It was a good offering.

Travis used a metal rod to poke at the charcoal, waving at his face to keep the smoke from it. The small grill they kept on their baloney was hardly used to something other than the best bits at the beginning of meals - it would hardly hold the expensive cut of meat Connor had picked up.

Travis tended to the fire as Connor began to peel the plastic back from the meat, the shiny wrappers from the chocolate. Their father, as the entire cabin knew by now, had a certain weakness for the peanut butter cups.

Travis gestured for him to toss in the offerings once the fire was decent, and Connor followed the instruction without question. He wiped his hands off, some of the chocolate already having melted to his fingertips, and grabbed Travis’s extended hand.

And they prayed.

They - Connor in particular - prayed hard, hand-in-hand, chocolate and meat blackening in front of them, filling the hopeful air with burning fragrance.  

“Really,” a new voice rang out, and Connor’s breath caught. “This is an emergency?”

Their father stood in front of them, their small balcony having hardly enough room to fit them all. His arms were crossed, his eyebrow raised, and was giving him the same judgement filled eyes his older brother had turning on him.

Connor threw his hands up, Travis’s own falling from his grip, but couldn’t deny the bubble of relief building inside of him. He gave Connor an amused smirk as the younger boy declared, “It is an emergency!”

“Son,” Hermes rolled his eyes, turning to walk in the apartment. The screen gave him no resistance as he passed through it. “You called me for this?”

Connor huffed out a breath, him and Travis both following him in, actually pulling back the screen door this time. Travis - the smart one of them - remembered to cover the fire, lest burning down their apartment building.

Again.

Hermes was surveying their living space as they came in, inspecting a mold spot with a slightly interested look.

“I think this might be a new species you’ve formed here.” He remarked.

“Nah, that’s just an old PBJ.”

“Delightful.”

“Where’re George and Martha?” Travis asked, perking up. He had a certain fondness for them.

Hermes turned towards their small kitchen, peering into their fridge, opening the cabins. Nosy.

Hermes waved his question off, “Taking a spa day - apparently the stress is getting to them.” His voice was amused as he explained this, reaching out a hand to poke at something in one of their cabinets. The old bag of bread probably. Connor was hoping to base his science fair project off of it.

Travis looked pleased. George and Martha deserved it, honestly.

Hermes finally looked to be finished looking through their apartment, only a single quick look thrown to their mother’s empty room. She would be in…Miami, right now. Or at least in the air above it.

Hermes turned back to him, “You prayed for my precise, what do you need?” Hermes asked, despite already knowing. He probably needed to them ask clearly - godly magic was tricky like that.

Connor let out a breath. “I need you to get me to California. San Francisco, to be precise. I can call an Uber once I’m there just - I need to get there.”

Hermes raised an eyebrow, “And this has to do with Aphrodite’s boy?”

Connor nodded, a bit desperately. “Mitchell. He won some kind of archery award and he was - he was just sad last time we talked that no one could make it to the ceremony for him because Sebastian’s parents are out of town, and Seb himself is sick and -” Connor cut himself off, staring at his hands. “I want to be there for him.”  

There was a beat of silence as Hermes stared at him.

“This isn’t an emergency.” Hermes told him, flipping out his phone, hundreds of notifications already flooding the screen.

Connor sighed, “It’s not in the most traditional sense,” he allowed his father, “but it’s really important. To me.”

There was a long moment of silence as Hermes was turned towards his phone. He gave Travis a desperate look, who shrugged.

Connor tried again, “Please, dad. I - I wouldn’t be asking if this was something I could do on my own.”

The silence fell over them again. Connor began to deflate.

“It’s done,” Hermes suddenly announced, attaching a black block to his phone - something like a square reader but bigger - in a quick, smooth movement. He waited a few moments before a long ticket began printing itself. He ripped the paper off, holding out to Connor.

Connor stumbled forward to take it, staring down at it. “What - what is it?”

“Your tickets,” Hermes focused back on his smartphone, sliding through a few apps. “Simply write your destination - be descriptive, we don’t need another Paris, Texas incident - on the front, black or blue pen, no pencil it confuses the magic - and light it on fire. Use one half to get there, the other half to get home.” Hermes gave him a stern look, “I expect you to be in school by Wednesday.”

“We have school on Monday and Tuesday.” Connor told him, a bit numb.

“I know,” Hermes shrugged, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “You’re young. You’re not going to miss anything life changing by missing a few days of school.”

Connor stumbled forward again, this time throwing his arms around the taller man’s shoulders. Hermes tensed, unsure for a moment, before relaxing, his hand coming up to pat his back.

Hermes had been trying, since the war. Since Luke.

It was ridiculous how grateful Connor could feel about that.

“Thanks, dad.” He muttered into his father’s suit, probably wrinkling the no doubt expensive fabric. Silk, maybe. Armani, definitely.

Hermes was nodding as Connor pulled away, his own eyes probably red. Hermes cleared his throat, still nodding, and pulled out his phone. Connor looked back, and Travis was grinning proudly.

“I have to be going,” Hermes told them, tapping out something on his phone. He gave them another look, “Don’t get into trouble you can’t get out of, you two. I can only manipulate so many police records before your mother gets suspicious.”

Travis finger-gunned at the older man, “No promises.”

“Thanks, dad.” Connor swallowed against the tightening of his throat.

He held up his hand in a quick gesture of goodbye, and that was it.

And, in moment to the next, he was gone. There was no theatrical display of smoke or light, just a slight shifting of air as mass that was previously occupied began empty, and the air adjusted accordingly so.

Travis clasped his hand over his shoulder, “Gonna surprise him?”

Connor was already nodding - they both had a probably worrying love for surprises. Travis accepted this, grinning, and headed towards the kitchen. Outside, the fire had burnt out the moment Hermes had disappeared.

“Oh, sweet.” Travis grinned, bending down to look closer inside their fridge. “Dad got us groceries.”

“Hot cheetos?” Connor asked hopefully, staring down at the ticket in his hands.

“Like, five bags. Oh, and my favorite pringles. Nice.”

“Nice,” He agreed, holding the ticket to his chest for another moment.

Looks like he had to pack.

-

Hermes does the exact thing my mother does when she visits my brother and I - meaning, opening every single cabinet, looking in the fridge, opening all the drawers. Idk mom. Idk. also i live with a gross adult boy. he’s disgusting and the moldy bag of bread is a nightmare i have weekly. 

Also I just really want Hermes to be a good dad ok. ok. let me have this. 

Mitchell cried when he saw his boyfriend in the front row, nearly taking the whole thing up with the filled chairs of gifts beside him. it was cute as hell. 

Betrayal Part 4

Part 3

Genre: Angst
Words: 2,826
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Injuries, mentions of torture, blood
Summary: There are mind games that both sides need to play.


Bucky had always liked the color red. It was the color of roses and apples and your pretty lipstick. But he had seen so much of one shade flowing out of your still-flowing veins and onto the ground in that chamber and ever since, he had never wanted to look at the color again; your spilled blood was all he would ever picture at the sight.

But even then, as he was surrounded in the red of flames and caressing a wound from the rapid fire that was still echoing around you two, he saw his blood as your own. And it was then that he realized no matter what memories were taken from him, he would never be able to rid his mind of what he had seen. He would never be able to take back what he had done to you.

Keep reading

And We Move As One

AN ~ I have quite a few ideas for scenes, not necessarily mutually exclusive, of Jemma & Daisy in the Framework. I plan to keep them all in one place since they’re spec, so they’ll be here.

Title from Yorktown (The World Turned Upside Down) from Hamilton

It’s the two of them against the dystopian Framework, and with every card they turn over, it seems another one of their former friends is against them. When Framework!Fitz breaks Daisy’s heart, it’s up to Jemma to assure her it’s them against the world. (Literally.)

Rshps: platonic Skimmons, platonic FitzDaisy (& some romantic FitzSimmons)

Read on AO3 (~1500wd)

And We Move As One

Since the Framework versions of themselves have no reason to know each other, and Jemma – being allegedly dead – has no living space of her own, and Daisy’s apartment is also home to a nightmare, they end up booking a hotel room. It’s one of the skeezier ones, since Jemma – being allegedly dead – has no ID, but it has wifi and a wall against which they can set up a pin-up board like the paranormal investigators they basically are. The board tracks Daisy, Ward, Coulson, and now Fitz. Unlike Coulson, a humble and somewhat average teacher, Fitz is a big name. In fact, the information on him is so vast they couldn’t fit it in this hotel, let alone this room, let alone this space on the board. Holed up in here for the afternoon, they try to narrow it down.

“So, what is he, some…Tony Stark character?” Jemma speculates, pacing the hotel room carpet. She passes a pen from one hand to the other as her mind struggles to wrap its way around this world; a world in which she has known Fitz for ten years, and he has never known her at all. A world in which he goes to the opera and wears suits that cost more than cars, and drives cars that cost more than their apartment. Who knows what a Fitz raised like that would have, would think, would know?

“Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist?” Daisy smirks at the image. “I can’t imagine Fitz as a playboy. He seems like a one and done kinda guy.”

“Ours might be,” Jemma points out, “but several million dollars goes pretty far in the dating department.”

“I hear that,” Daisy concedes, but it’s still strange to scroll through all these pictures of Fitz out and about – oftentimes with women, though the nature of the relationship is usually ambiguous - doing activities one could only describe as schmoozing. He’s got a lofty air about him, and definitely money to spare. He’s arrogant, but in an attractive way; a way that makes you think that maybe you could be that one person he pays real attention. He’s not quite kind - polite, but aloof. It’s a strange balance between on the one hand, exactly how one might imagine the stubborn, arrogant side of Fitz would show up if polished with a ridiculous amount of money, and on the other, something Daisy never imagined Fitz could be.

Keep reading