well i can but they turn out really bad

The following things might be sideffects of watching GYPSY ...

- you might want to see a therapist
- next time u go grab a coffee, check the barista out
- anyone with a British accent will be automatically 10000 times hotter
- glasses, tattoos, the smell of coffee, leather jacket, smokey eyes, anonymity, cigarettes, red dresses are turn ons
- want to live in NYC duh
- smoke weed (Blue Dreams)
- drink bourbon & coffee (or Chardonnay or Fireball shots)
- next destination MARFA
- either want your own Jean or Sidney
(Side Note: yes you do. like both with each other but for yourself it can only be one/ for me SID all the way)
- I actually really want to learn about being a barista
- start an affair and pretend to be somebody else
- become a good/bad liar
- I forgot that platform boots and office attire will become turns on’s as well
- get Chance by Chanel
- check out Bars with live bands on Friday nights
- listen to ‘GIRLS’ by the Internet & ‘MONSTERS’ by A K U A on repeat
- say fuck whenever you please as any reaction
- play hard to get
- hire Alexis as your Assistent
- feel anxious for Dolly
- feel bad about rather thinking of solving the ending than be sad about Allison
(Poor girl pls help friends that you know are in need!)
- BE IN DESPERATE NEED OF A SEASON 2 (so Lisa if you read this I NEED YOU!!!!)

UPDATE:
- get Indigo nail polish
- glitter eyeshadow
🙌🏻

(this is probably gonna be a long oneshot and once there’s more it’ll be on ao3 but for now, let me know what you think?)

There are things that Kent can handle, and then there are things that Kent cannot, under any circumstances, in any universe, even begin to handle.

As it turns out, watching Jack Zimmermann, Alexei Mashkov, Randall Robinson, and Sebastian St. Martin attempt to build a deck is one of the things that he can’t handle, because holy fucking shit.

It’s about a million degrees out, and they’re all shirtless and covered in sweat and, yeah, it’s the off season, but they’re still professional fucking hockey players, for fucks sake, and Kent realizes then and there that accepting the invitation to spend the week at Jack and Bitty’s new cottage was definitely a mistake because, really.

Except for Mashkov, everybody brought their families, and they’re all friends, and they’re all teammates, and Kent is 99% sure that his invite was a pity one prompted by the Aces losing the Stanley Cup in game seven against the Stars, and he can’t help but feel like he doesn’t belong there at all, and he can’t help but think it’s because he doesn’t.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hey Viria! I often come onto your blog to check out your PJO/HoO art because I love it. It always make me want to draw art of my own, but I'm bad! People tell me that it's all about pratice, but do you second that? I mean, you're super talented so I thought I'd ask you. It's just that I get frustrated sometimes because I want to draw a particular scene or character from a really good book but it always turns out bad! Any recommendations? And if it IS true, how can I get better? Thanks a million!

I definitely second what people have told you! It IS about practise! 

And, to be honest, I don’t quite see myself as “super talanted”. I didn’t draw as good from the start. I had the stage (A LONG ONE), feeling like you do right now, not being able to draw a scene I see so well in my head because my hand just wouldn’t cooperate. It will turn out not as good as you want it too for a few years, at least.

Building up a skill is like growing a tree. It won’t grow overnight, and you have to regularly water it or else it will just stop growing and die. So, you can get better by growing and watering your tree! Don’t get discouraged to the point when you just stop, because it will not get you anywhere. Also, there are things you can’t yet draw, that’s true. But look at all the things you CAN draw at this point. Look at it this way: when you were a baby, at some point, you couldn’t even hold a pencil. Couldn’t even WALK, and look how good you are at it now, you can even run!

It’s the same with drawing really. Keep on and it will be great!

Vape vs Asthma (Smii7yoz / Krii7y)

Smii7y stepped out of the Uber and stretched, still stiff from his flight, and grabbed his suitcase. He glanced at the house he was dropped off at, noticing only one car sitting in the driveway.
Smii7y nervously walked past the vehicle and up to the front door, not quite knowing who would answer the door. After he knocked on the door, he heard a yell from within.

Then the door swung open.
“You’re late, bitch.”

“At least I don’t look like a bitch.“ Smii7y retorted.

“That doesn’t even make any sense!” Kryoz exclaimed.

Smii7y laughed as he pulled Kryoz into a side bro hug.

“Its good to finally see you again, man.” Smii7y smiled.

“Yeah, I’m glad you could come down!”

“Am I allowed inside or…?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

They stared at each other through the open doorway for a silent minute, Smii7y standing on the porch and Kryoz in the house’s front room.

“Just kidding! Get pranked, bro!”

Kryoz laughed as he lead Smii7y inside.

Smii7y could smell the smoke as soon as he stepped in. It might’ve just his mind playing tricks on him, but Smii7y felt as if his lungs were already seizing up.

Keep reading

2

The two of you were by yourselves. Damon’s great idea was to tie Kai up and then hand him over to you. Damon didn’t care what you did to Kai. As long as he never saw him again in Mystic Falls, you could do whatever you pleased. You knew his magic didn’t work but you were still prepared for the worst…

“Y/N, I know your hereeee. Come out. This is no fun” Kai’s voice echoed throughout the place and you graced him with your presence. He lightly chuckled because of how innocent you looked. Kai always had a crush on you since the two of you meant before he was sent to Hell. To try and lighten the mood, he began to make jokes.

“Ooh, are you here to punish me? Cause that’s kind of hot” Kai stated tilting his head and licking his lips. You rolled your eyes at Kai’s remarks and tried your best to act confident.

“Kai, shut up! I’m not here to be your friend. Damon handed you over to me which means you better be extra nice to me” You explained crossing your arms. Kai smirked and raised his eyebrows. Your sudden attitude turned him on even more.

“Someone’s feisty… how about you let me loose and we can have some fun” Kai said pulling at his chains. You laughed. “Well that’s bad news for you because my type are not psychopaths” Kai sighed and threw his head back.

“Oh come onnn. We are by ourselves. There’s no magic in this room. I can’t get out of here if I wanted to. I won’t hurt you. ” You bit your lip turning away from Kai. You hated him. You really did. You weren’t going to let your dumb teenage hormones and Kai’s manipulative sexy voice get the best of you.

“What’s the matter, sweetie? Re-thinking your decisions”

“I-I can’t take off your chains” you looked at Kai. You had to stop pretending to hate him.

“Fine. Come over here. I’ll let you ride my face” Your cheeks reddened at Kai’s demand but you slowly walked over him. “Don’t act like I can’t smell your arousal. Hop up baby” Kai said and you climbed on top of kai holding onto his shoulders.

Kai moved your panties to the side and licked a stripe up you pussy “Kai, that feels so good” you said gripping on his shoulders tighter. Kai began to suck on your clit. “fuuccck kai"” You began to moan as Kai chuckled. “Shit, I’m about to cum” You yell as you cum into his mouth. You got off of kai with your legs quivering searching for the key in your pocket to unlock. Kai was in his chair waiting patiently licking the rest of your mess from his lips. You found the key and began to strip the chains off him.

“Now we’re ready to have some fun” kai exclaimed ripping his shirt off and following yours. The two of you stripping each’s other clothing one by one. Kai walked the two of you over to the bar counter and bended you over.

“I knew you always wanted me to fuck you since the day we met. Who knew you were such a naughty girl?” Kai hands gripped your hips as he drove himself into your slick cunt. You gripped onto the counter tightly as your knuckles began to turn white as Kai pumped in and out of you. “Kai your cock feels so good I’m going to cum soon" Kai didn’t stop, wanting the two of you to cum together. “Fuck your pussy is so tight” kai exclaimed. “Cum for me baby girl” your head dropped and buried onto the counter as you and kai came together. Kai pulled out and chuckled.

“My naughty girl. What are we gunna tell Damon and Stefan?” Kai said pulling his pants back on.

“I guess this place is our little secret” you said shrugging your shoulders and placing your lips on Kai Parker.

paul lahote | imprinting [2]

paul lahote. 1186 words.

previous part.

a/n: sorry that this is so late, guys! school is a bummer and there isn’t enough time in the day to write. but i hope you enjoy this


When Quil had invited you to hang with him down at the beach, you almost died of shame remembering the events of a few nights prior. The res party had been a complete disaster. Not only had a possessive stranger hit on you but juvenile delinquent Paul Lahote had jumped in to rescue you for a reason that was completely unknown to you. The way he’d acted, you would have thought he was jealous, but that couldn’t have been the case. He’d never said a word to you before – never even looked at you before – so whatever it was had to have been personal between him and that boy. That was the only explanation you could come up with.


“It’ll be just the two of us,” Quil promised. “Come on, (Y/N), we haven’t hung out since—” But he’d stopped himself short. He wasn’t allowed to mention the party, not when you still burned with shame every time you thought about it.


“Fine,” you agreed. “But only for a few hours. I have homework to do.”


And so you found yourself walking along the shore with Quil, hands stuffed in the pockets of your jacket. It was particularly cold that day, even more so than usual. You could feel yourself starting to regret going out, but Quil was chattering so happily to you about a new movie he’d seen with Embry that you decided it was worth it. It didn’t take much to make your best friend happy.


“Also, you want to know something funny?” he asked. “Embry said that Paul Lahote was asking about you.”


You stopped short. You could barely hear the waves rolling onto the shore with how hard you were breathing. If you’d been cold before, it was nothing compared to the ice that seemed to be spreading through your veins.


“He did what?”


Quil snickered. “Well, I know you said I can’t mention the party, but apparently he’s been going around asking people if they knew you. And you can imagine how freaked Embry got when big bad Paul Lahote came up to him after class and questioned him, too.”


Your knees turned to jelly and you were forced to take a seat on a large log of driftwood to keep yourself from falling. Your voice was barely above a whisper. “And what did Embry say?”


“He told him the two of you really didn’t hang out – which is true and Embry is kind of salty about it because he thinks you don’t like him, and I told him that’s bullshit and that you like everyone but he actually thinks you have something against—”


“Not important, Quil!”


Quil grinned. “Right. Sorry. Anyway, I’m pretty sure Paul’s got the hots for you, which is cool but he’s kind of weird. The whole bunch of them are.” His grin faded as he stared behind your shoulder, eventually turning into a full-blown grimace. You glanced back in confusion and paled.


“Speak of the devil,” you muttered.


On the other side of the beach was Sam’s gang. Paul was talking animatedly to Jared and Sam, but then his eyes met yours and he froze in his tracks. He the same look on that he did at the party, like he was in a trance that he couldn’t snap out of on his own. Jared elbowed him and jerked his head in your direction, mouthing something you couldn’t make out.


Paul started running towards you.


Quil tensed like he was getting ready for a fight, but something in your gut told you he could never take Paul. Not like he needed to anyway. Paul wasn’t going to hurt you. He wouldn’t go through the trouble of saving you from the overly flirtatious stranger at the party if he was going to do even more damage.


“(Y/N),” he said when he reached you. A shiver ran down your spine at the way he said your name. “Can I talk to you?”


Quil gave you a pointed look, silently urging you to refuse, but you were far too curious to listen. Your fear of him and his gang was replaced by a foolish eagerness; everything about Paul drew you in.


“Sure,” you replied. “Walk with me.”


You left Quil behind and set off with the tattooed boy. Neither of you spoke for a good few minutes, letting the tension around you grow thicker. What was his deal? Were all boys this confusing?


“Listen, I’m sorry about the party,” he blurted. “I shouldn’t have snapped like that.” But by his tone, you could tell he really didn’t mean it. It didn’t seem in his nature to be sorry.


“Do you have beef with that dude?” you asked. “What’d he do to you?”


Paul stuck his hands in the pockets of his cutoff shorts, the muscles in his abdomen hardening. He was gorgeous, that much was certain. Just being around him made it hard for you to think. You knew you were probably going to end up saying something stupid in front of him – like admitting how pretty he was.


“He didn’t really do anything to me,” Paul said. “It’s you he was bothering, and I guess I just… I just snapped.”


A million questions burned on your tongue, but you held back. Paul didn’t look like he was finished talking and you didn’t want to risk him being cautious.


“I must look like a freak to you, huh?” He laughed forcefully though there was clearly nothing funny. “There’s just something about you that I can’t get over. You’ve been in my head since the party.” Paul wrinkled his nose. “Jeez, that’s so cheesy.”


You smiled warmly and slung your arm around his neck. It was a friendly gesture that took him by surprise – though, really, there was a little more than friendship on your end. Admittedly, you were a little taken aback yourself by how at ease you were around him.


“If you wanted to ask me out, Paul, you could have just said so,” you teased.


He raised an eyebrow. “You’re willing to let me take you on a date?”


“Yeah. Isn’t that what you’ve been hinting at?”


Paul’s gaze was a million miles away, like he was thoroughly confused by your assumption. For a second, you turned cold with worry that maybe you’d misinterpreted his behavior and that he wasn’t actually into you, but then he grinned.


“Sure. Yeah, I’ll take you out.”


You talked for a while longer about where and when he was going to pick you up, and then the two of you headed back to your friends. Jared pulled Paul into a headlock as soon as the boy left your side, and it looked like he was going to be in for one hell of an interrogation. Judging by the looks Quil was giving you, you were in for the same treat.


“What happened?” he whispered as Sam Uley’s gang started to put distance between them and the two of you.


You shook your head in disbelief, a thin smile on your lips. “Apparently, I’ve got more game than I thought.”

How do you get the likes of Harvey Keitel, Jack Nicholson, and Al Pacino in the same movie as Kevin James, David Spade, and Rob Schneider? Hell, how do you get anyone in the same movie as Schneider? By having the best sets in town. That’s because most of them are actually just holiday destinations. Sandler stumbled on the idea during pre-production on 50 First Dates. On a whim, he suggested to the studio that they shoot the whole movie in Hawaii – and they agreed. Since then, Sandler has shot almost every movie he’s made either somewhere warm and fun or just in his backyard. Once you start noticing how many of his posters have exotic vegetation in the background, you can’t unsee it.

Of course, a tropical beach isn’t really worth much if you don’t have time to relax on it. Luckily, to quote Sandler, “I didn’t get into movies to please the critics. I got into it to make people laugh and have fun with my friends.” Turns out that not giving a fuck whether or not you’re making bad movies can actually be quite a pleasant experience. The pressure is off because, well, you’re working on an Adam Sandler movie – not even his audiences go in expecting anything more than a couple of semi-amused smirks. The last time Pacino could just have fun acting was probably at his sixth-grade school play. But on the set of Jack & Jill, he could have farted every line and critics would still have blamed it on the movie.

Perhaps most importantly, almost everyone who has worked with Sandler tells the same story: he’s sweet, charming, and the most down-to-earth guy in Hollywood. He’s always in a good mood, refuses to be treated like a movie star, and interacts with everyone (from Jessica Biel to the best boy) like they’re part of the family. So maybe when he asks you to come do his movie, it sounds more like your favorite neighbor inviting you over for a barbecue to shoot the shit and maybe push someone in the pool. Incidentally, we’ve just described the entire plot of both Grown Ups movies.

5 Reasons Good Actors Make Bad Movies (You Never Realized)

The Name Game

A/N Somewhat a sequel to Always the Bad Guy’!

Pairing: neutral/prinxiety (Prince/Anxiety)

Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort kinda

Word Count: 1260

Warnings: I don’t think there’s any??

Summary:

Anxiety doesn’t think he’ll ever reveal his name, not when he’s still viewed as the villain. He takes comfort in Roman’s insults - as weird as it sounds.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

How about pastel!Dan and punk!Phil pet play with Dan being a kitten? Bondage and that good shit is always welcome :P

ncould u do a breeding one?? srry its weird buT thats my shit xx

It’s OK anon it’s mine too/// Our queue has been running low and it’s easier to write short things, so send a short, simple prompt and mark it with * at the beginning, and a one-two paragraph hc goes into the queue. The amount of time it takes for the queue to post is less time than it takes for us to write a full length hc.

We hit 2.8k followers!!!

This turned more into businessman!Phil and pastel!Dan but you know I’m just not sorry

Tags: Pet Play, Overstimulation, Tail Plugs, Mouth Fucking, Bondage, Breeding, Double Penetration, Degradation, Creampie

Nothing was added bc I felt it had to be ~


- Phil’s been away traveling for almost a week, he’s stressed, and he misses his boyfriend/kitten, Dan. When Phil gets stressed out, he normally takes it out on Dan, because they have a d/s relationship and Dan says it’s okay, they have a safeword and all that, and the cuddles are unparalleled afterward. So it’s safe to say that Phil needs to get home to Dan. To make matters worse, his flight gets delayed by few hours, so he texts Dan not to wait up for dinner but he’ll be home before Dan goes to bed.

- At about eight o’clock that night, Phil slips into his flat and shuts the door behind him. “Dan,” he calls when he doesn’t see the boy in the lounge. As Phil takes off his coat, Dan crawls into the room with his kitty ears on his head, pastel pink lacy collar around his neck, and tail swaying behind him. “Hey, kitten,” Phil says fondly, reaching down to pet through Dan’s hair. The action earns him a satisfied purr and Dan tilting his face up to nose into Phil’s palm. “I’ve missed you. Think I can show you how much?” Dan’s lips curve into a smile and he scrambles to his feet, bouncing on the tip of his toes. 

- “Eager kitten. C’mon.” Phil calmly walks to their room, which has been lit with nothing more than fairy lights rather than the lamp. It leaves the room feeling much warmer, and Dan definitely did it to set a mood. “Get on the bed and don’t move or touch yourself, I’ll be right back.”

- He wanders into the huge walk in closet and returns with rope, a whitehead gag, lube, and a couple of toys to use on Dan. He doesn’t need to say anything for Dan to spread his arms and legs for Phil to tie him down. Dan wordlessly opens his mouth for the gag, letting out a small whimper as his lips are held open. Phil just smirks and kneels, fully clothed at the foot of the bed, easing the tail plug out of Dan’s hole and setting it aside as he watches Dan clench around nothing. “Look at you, already so open for me even though I just got home. You’re just looking to be filled up with my cum, aren’t you kitten?” Dan whines and nods. His back arches when Phil runs his fingertips up Dan’s inner thighs. He knows better than to touch himself without permission except for his tale, and he’s sensitive at the best of times, so every touch sends sparks up Dan’s spine. “Have you been good while I was gone?” Phil doesn’t wait for an answer, but moves up the bed and unbuttons his pants to push them down his hips a bit. He settles on Dan’s chest, his cock millimeters from Dan’s lips as he strokes himself.

- “Show me.”

- Immediately Dan lifts his head from the mattress and takes as much as he can into his mouth, unable to suck Phil properly around the gag, but doing his best. Phil’s eyes flit down to Dan’s for permission, which he sees, so Phil buries his hands in Dan’s hair to steady him and starts fucking his mouth. He goes until a familiar heat pools in his stomach and Dan’s face is messy with tears and drool. After pulling out, Phil removes the gag from Dan’s mouth. “What do you say kitten?”

- “Thank you Master,” Dan says in a slightly hoarse voice.

- Phil smiles and pats his cheek affectionately. “Good boy.” Now he sets his sight on working Dan up, slowly peppering light kisses up and down Dan’s neck. They gradually have more pressure until Phil chooses a spot to suck on, leaving a dark bruise just above the edge of Dan’s collar. He moves down when Dan starts to whine and rut his hips up into Phil’s, biting marks into Dan’s chest and playing with his nipples.

- Dan’s fists are clenching and unclenching and his toes curling and he thinks he might come just from this because he’s so sensitive and he’s missed Phil so much. “M- aster please, I…” Dan moans, voice breaking in the middle of ‘Master.’ 

- “Aww, look at my pretty kitten, falling apart even though I haven’t even touched you.” Phil’s hands skim over Dan’s waist at the same time as he moves lower to mouth wet, sloppy kisses along Dan’s inner thighs.

- “Please, please, let me come, let me come, Master,” Dan pleads, head thrown back onto the pillows at the head of the bed.”

- Raising an eyebrow, Phil looks at Dan, observes how he’s hard and leaking, how his hole keeps clenching around nothing, begging to be filled. “You can come if you come untouched.” To his amazement, Dan comes a few seconds later, splattering his stomach and moaning. Smirking, Phil picks up the toy he brought out earlier and covers it in lube to slowly push into Dan. He turns on the vibrations and makes sure it’s pressed against Dan’s prostate.

- A quiet whimper escapes Dan’s mouth and his back arches off the bed. “Master, too much, feels so good-”

- It’s not like Dan’s not used to a big stretch, but it burns a little in the best possible way when Phil slips a slicked up finger past Dan’s rim alongside the toy. Dan practically screams, but to his credit, remains relaxed and allows Phil to keep stretching him. “I’m gonna fill you up with my cum,” Phil says in a low voice as he gently pushes in a second finger. “You’ll be so wrecked, stretched out from me and a toy at the same time, dripping with my cum and yours, fucked out and perfect for me.”

- He starts sucking the head of Dan’s cock to distract from the burn of adding a third finger. Before long, Dan’s coming down his throat with his second orgasm of the night, still panting and begging Phil to fuck him. Phil pulls completely off of Dan despite the small noise of protest and lubes himself up. His eyes flicker up to Dan’s for the permission he already has before pushing in alongside the vibe. Dan’s tight around him, even tighter than usual, and it feels so good, especially paired with the toy pulsing along the underside of his cock.

- “Please, Master, move!” Dan pleads, pulling even harder at the ties holding him in place. “Hurts but it feels so good, please, move, Master! Fill me up, breed me like a good bitch, please!”

- Phil starts slowly, but gradually moves faster, transfixed with the way that Dan’s so full that he can see a slight bulge moving under Dan’s taught abdomen every time he thrusts forward. “That’s what you want, huh, slut? To be bred like the fucking whore you are, shown your place? You’re nothing more than a hole to be fucked.”

- For a moment, Phil pulls out, drawing a sound of complaint from Dan’s lips to untie his legs and pull them over Phil’s shoulders so he can get deeper into Dan when he goes back to fucking him. The new angle has Dan nearly screaming with every thrust, and he comes a third time, only a pathetic dribble of cum dripping from his red and abused cock. “Please, Master! Please, hurts, Master! Cum, please, I need it, I need it so bad! Need to be filled up, claimed, need it, please!”

- That’s what finally drives Phil over the edge, allowing himself a small sound as he pushes as deep into Dan as he can, his high seeming to last forever. When he’s done, he winces and pulls out, turning off the vibrator and removing it as well. Everything’s sticky with cum, and it leaks slowly from Dan’s red, open and abused hole, still trying to flutter closed around nothing.


Damn I have a thing for overstim someone stop me. I didn’t include aftercare but it’s really important, esp after a scene like this!

-Matt

Send us your sins or for shorter prompts mark * for the queue

bleudinosaur  asked:

Hello! Quick question, do you have any resources/tips for writing hateful/mean dialogue? I'm having more trouble with this than I thought I would. Thanks :D

Hello!  Off the top of my head, I can think of a few: 

1.  Allow conflict to escalate and then explode. 

Unless one of your characters is entering the discussion raging mad about this-that-or-the-other, your dialogue will likely start somewhat placid and escalate from there.  

For example: 

“Um.  Sandy,” said Leon, voice carefully level.  “Can we talk?” 

“Sure!  What about, man?”  said Sandy, smiling pleasantly at his friend. 

“I, um.  Feel silly even asking you this, but uh…”  Leon chuckled awkwardly, then took a deep, steadying breath through his nostrils.  “Did you…have sex with my father?”

Sandy blinked, then let out a nervous bray of laughter.  “Wha-ha-hat ever gave you that idea, bro?” 

Leon’s eyes widened.  “You DID!”

“What?  No I didn’t!”  

“Yes, you did!”  cried Leon, pointing a finger at him.  “You only do that stupid laugh when you’re caught in a lie!  You totally did!  YOU BANGED MY DAD!

Sandy opened his mouth to protest, then closed it in resignation.  “Okay, look.  Daniel and I were both drunk, it was a mistake…” 

“OH MY GOD!”  Leon clapped a hand over his mouth.  “You fucking bastard.  My parents are getting a divorce now!”  

“Look, it isn’t my fault your dad can’t keep it in his fucking pants!”  Sandy snapped.  “And if your mom knew how to please a man, he wouldn’t have had to get his rocks off in me anyway.” 

“Son of a BITCH!”  Without thinking, Leon balled his fist and sent it flying.  

Okay, never mind the subject matter.  See the escalation there?  Though there’s tension at the beginning of the discussion, both characters are calm, which makes it more interesting (and in a weird way, rewarding) when one finally explodes.

Even if one of your characters is entering the discussion angry, there will likely be a period in which their companion tries to placate them before they finally give in and it devolves into a proper, two-sided fight.  

Let’s return to another scenario of Sandy and Leon’s personal drama to see what I mean:  

“SON OF A BITCH!”  roared Leon, storming into his shared dorm room.  “YOU SLEPT WITH MY FUCKING DAD!” 

Sandy, who had been reclined on the sofa reading a book, scrambled into an upright sitting position.  “Wha-ha-hat?  No I didn’t!” 

“Yes you did,” Leon fumed, face tomato red.  “You’re doing that stupid laugh you only do when you’re lying!”

“Look, Lee, I swear -” 

“TELL ME THE FUCKING TRUTH, SANDY.” 

The two stared at each other for a moment, before Sandy ducked his head sheepishly.  “Okay, look, Daniel and I were drunk, it was a mistake -” 

“YOU BASTARD.”

“Lee, I’m sorry-”

“YOU MOTHERFUCKING BASTARD!  MY PARENTS ARE GETTING A DIVORCE NOW!”

“Oh, for God’s sake-YOUR FATHER’S FUCKING GAY, LEON!”  Sandy snapped, rolling his eyes.  “And it’s none of my business, I know, but I really have a hard time picturing that a heterosexual woman, AND A FUCKING GAY MAN, ever had marriage of year!” 

Leon’s face turned an interesting shade of purple.  “Why you LITTLE…” 

“He should have been able to keep it in his pants anyways,” Sandy sneered.  “And if your mom knew how to please a man, he wouldn’t have needed to get his rocks off elsewhere.” 

That was the last straw.  Leon balled his fist and sent it flying.

I’ve been watching altogether too many reality TV shows lately, but you get the point:  conflict, of any sort, escalates until it simmers down or explodes.  

2.  Selectively use synonyms for ‘said.’ 

Contrary to popular belief, said isn’t dead.  However, antonyms can be great mood setters.  

For creating a snappy, hateful, angry mood, try synonyms like this:

Snapped

Barked

Roared

Fumed

Argued

Taunted

Hissed

Cursed

Swore

Challenged

Seethed

Shouted

Snarled

Bellowed

Growled

Sneered 

Just don’t overdo it, or you’ll end up looking like that one scene from My Immortal.  Yeah, you know the one: 

3.  Allow for pointed jabs.  

In arguments, even with loved ones, we sometimes say hurtful things with or without meaning them.  

When one of your characters is angry with the other, and I mean really angry, they may not be above pointing out their insecurities in a heated moment.  

This can be treated as comedic fodder in some instances (i.e. generally anything related to erectile dysfunction and feigned orgasms), but in others, it can get genuinely hurtful and heartbreaking.  

Let’s say you’re dealing with two characters, one of whom has abandonment issues.  Maybe the other knows this, and is generally supportive.  However, in a very heated argument, they may reach for it as a weapon.  

For example:

“For God’s sake, Michael, it’s one o’clock in the morning!”  cried Lisa, as her drunken husband staggered in the door.  “It’s your son’s seventh birthday today!  Did you really think now was the best time to have a guy’s night out with your poker buddies!?”

“Not now, Lise. I wanna sleep,” Michael slurred, dumping his gym bag in the corner and staggering towards the stairs.

“NO,” snapped Lisa, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him to face her.  “No, Mike.  You don’t get to leave without talking about this.”

“Ugh.  Why do you always gotta be like this, Lisa,”  Michael groaned, temples throbbing.  

“Don’t you dare try and play the victim here!  Do you think my afternoon’s been easy?  I had to look at his little face, and tell him his daddy loved vodka more than-”

“DAMMIT, LISA!”  Michael barked suddenly.  “This is why your dad left, you know that!?  You just can’t help but drive men away.”

Lisa recoiled as though she’d been stung.  Michael felt a sick wave of satisfaction deep in his gut that he knew he’d be ashamed of once he was sober. 

“Go to hell, Mike,” whispered Lisa.  Tears pricked her eyes as she turned and hurried out of the room.

Mike’s an asshole, but you get the point.  Also note that this exchange follows the same pattern of escalation I mentioned earlier.

These kinds of jabs can take really any number of forms for anyone with a shared history:  past instances of adultery, poor financial decisions, bad parenting, or mistakes made in adolescence can all become canon fodder in a harsh altercation.  The better the people know each other, the better they’ll know their week spots.  

That’s why folks who don’t know each other all that well will usually settle for jabs at one another’s parentage, sexual histories, et cetera to try to get a rise out of them.

In a very hateful dialogue, usually delivered as hate speech from a bigoted stranger, this could also involve slurs towards the person’s sexuality, race, or gender, or falling back on harmful stereotypes to try and hurt the party in question;  they know that it’s a sore spot for them, and they want to hurt them as much as possible with it.

(It’s worth noting here, however, that if you are White, I would recommend against using racial slurs in your writing, just as if you’re straight you may not want to use words like “dyke” or “f*ggot” out of respect for your readers.  That’s just my opinion, however, and not everyone will agree with me on this one.)


I really hope this helps, and happy writing!  <3 

sad boys | one

Member: Jeon Jungkook x Reader x Park Jimin

Genre: Heavy angst, smut, Rebel Jungkook, Fuck Buddy Jimin, Soulmate AU

Word Count: 3,691

A/N: AHHHH THANK YOU ALL FOR 200 FOLLOWERSSS (idk how i got here without smut LMAO) AS A THANK YOU I decided to attempt to write what is probs really bad: SMUT. If this turns out well, you guys can request for more it’s up to you BUT ANYWAYS THANK YOU SO MUCHHHH

*Italics is foresight.


     

      You were nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing but a parasite in a greater hold.

      You were worthless.

      You weren’t welcome here, slipping your boots on to wander. Wander off to hiding spot number 134. The railroad. You met your father only once. Your mother raised you poorly. You felt shipwrecked, stranded, folded out over the waves of water. Your feet took you away from the mother, passed out drunk with a stale cigarette in her fingers. They took you away from the fucked up house with the creaky floorboards on the porch, the nails stabbing out from beneath you. The night was unholy around you, the black swallowing everything on the streets. The dim lights were emitting a warm hue, shielding you from the monsters of the dark. Your eyes flickered around you, fingers twitching around the knife in your fingers. The boy. He came. And you swore you saw him blur around the edges, his mind tangled with yours.

      Neither of you knew the others’ name. He was the boy, you were the girl. No words were exchanged, splashes of beer replacing the unknown voice of the boy. The static silence, the one everyone wishes for, was found instantaneously. You found yourself running after him, his black clothes hiding him from your eyes. Your teary eyes. Again. Blurred on the edges.


      You shot up in your bed, eyes wide with cold sweat running down your face. You were met with the same room, dirty white walls with peeling paint, splintering floor covered in towels to prevent having to pull wood out from your feet in the bathroom. A single dresser with mismatching drawers, and a makeshift desk you threw together with plywood. You slid out from the old  patchwork quilt you had over you and picked up your phone from the ground, looking at the digital time glowing on the screen. 3:32 AM. You knew you shouldn’t have tried to sleep. The dreams had been coming in since you were fourteen, the man in them seemingly haunting you ever since. You had heard of the stories of soulmates, the single item showing up in all your dreams, pulling you two together.

      There were two stages in the whole “Soulmate” idea. The first was the dreams. They started when the both of you started to mature, learning in on the ideas, storing away the facts, pondering the possibilities. Thinking of how your past life was, if you ever met them before, how you died. You would start to get anxious, question if anything was true, if it was all a fairytail people told, a bedtime story for imaginative little kids. No one could ever remember their full dreams, the events staying in their world were everything was better. You started pulling out key details, things that would show up every time you closed your eyes, and you sketched them on your wall. But you quit sleeping at night. The dreams started haunting you, following you around, appearing in every minuscule thing you did every day. Last night had been the first time you had tried to sleep at night for months.

      Entering the bathroom, you looked at yourself in the cracked mirror. Still as fucked up as ever, you thought. You shed your clothes, letting them fall to your feet, stepping out from them and slowly getting into the shower. The curtains were grimy and covered in god knows what, but you couldn’t bother to clean it. You started the water, the slow stream of cold hitting you like a bullet. There was no warm water - as per usual. You guessed you mother stayed up at some point to waste it on herself, thoughts of her head floating under, darkness enclosing her, stealing her warmth away ran through her head. 

      From fucked up parents come fucked up kids.

      You ran your hands through your hair, feeling the water run down your arms like blood from wounds. The second stage of the soulmate thing was death. Cheerful, right? The story goes, you have to die before getting your memories of a past life. Pretty obvious. But, it made sense. Things would pop up, kind of like special items. For example, your friend Hoseok had been getting visions of Mr. Goodbars for quite some time. He found his soulmate at a gas station with her arms full of bars. His memories flooded back to him that night, and he spent an entire week looking for that girl. She got her memories back a few days later, and she went looking for him too. He found her eating one of the bars on a park bench, and a happy reunion went on between them. But you hadn’t had jack shit so far. You had seen  few repetitive things here and there, but they all ended up staying away from your mind after a while. Either you were bad at this, or your soulmate just couldn’t pick something and stay with it.

      You jumped out from the small space of the shower after being hit with deathly cold shivers. You wrapped a ripped towel around you after drying off and got ready for the day. It was any normal day of the week; way up way too early, shower, do makeup, attempt to find something to do to kill time before school, and get out of the house without your mother seeing you. You finished getting ready and climbed down the side of your house, the sole of your boots making a quiet thump in the dewy grass. The sun was still hiding away from the town’s eyes, gracing some other country with it’s annoyingly bright rays. You slid your phone out and checked the time again. 4:46. Better. You slid your key into your old pickup, named Fucker, for never working. After about twenty times, the ignition finally started and the rusty thing purred to life. You slid out of the driveway and down the streets, your eyes grazing over every little thing. You noticed one thing - the For Sale sign wasn’t hanging in Mr and Mrs Johnson’s rickety old place anymore. Keep that in mind, you told yourself. You drove down the road, parking outside of Jimin’s house. He was your childhood friend… And occasional fuck buddy. You were fine with it, you didn’t have anything else to do. But you had to admit, it was really confusing. Everyone was right - friends with benefits never work out.

      You laid down over the passenger seats and kicked your feet out the window, letting the radio spill songs that swam through the air and graced your ears. You pulled out your phone again and called up Jimin, telling him you were waiting for him by the corner. He made his way out from his house slipping on a shirt, his bangs sticking to his forehead sweat. You swept your legs back down to the floor of the truck, scooting over so he could drive. He stepped in and leaned his head against the back of the seat, heaving a sigh.

      “Bad dream?” You said with a hint of playfulness in your voice, glancing at his disheveled state; crumpled, ripped shirt and tight jeans that he hadn’t bothered to button, sex hair and sweat dripping down the side of his face. He let out a breathy laugh, his Adam’s Apple bobbing.

      His head lolled over to look at his, his pupils blown wide. From the darkness, from you, you didn’t know and didn’t care. He looked sexy as all hell. He laughed again at the sight of your legs crossing from his intense gaze. “If you call fucking you senseless on your kitchen counter a bad dream, than it was a fucking nightmare.” He sat up, his hand curling around the stick shift and shoving the truck into gear. His foot floored the gas pedal, speeding off to your favorite clearing in the woods. The clearing where you first met him, swinging at the air with a stick while on an old swing. A swing that you grew up on, had fun on, had sex on. You felt bad for that poor old thing.

      His right hand was gripping your thigh, smoothing over the folding denim of your jeans. You melted under his touch, he had complete control over you. You should’ve hated it, you knew it, you wanted to show that you still had control over one of your brains, but you knew you didn’t. And you fucking loved it. With two taps of his finger, your legs spread apart, the muscles of your thighs tightening, your core enclosing around nothing. The radio was still blasting, and Jimin took his foot off of the gas. By the time the truck was at a stop, his hands gripped your waist and pulled you to his lap, lips crashing against each other. His hands were running up and down your back, his cold fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. Your tongues were clashing, fighting for their territory, a battle of which he immediately won. Your fingers were curling around his shirt, tugging it over his head. He chuckled at your impatient actions, the sound sending a wave of heat that rippled down your body, eliciting a soft whimper from your lips. You were desperate, ad he tugged you closer - but it seemed like he couldn’t get you close enough. You both needed more.

      You both split, and the air was rushed into your lungs, but he pulled you down again, moaning into your mouth. His hand gripped the back of your neck, the other clutching onto your breasts. His hand slipped under your shirt, his nimble fingers playing with the sensitive bud, pinching and rolling it between his index finger and thumb. You could feel him against your leg, sending shivers down your spine. His hand flew from your neck to your legs, growling at your choice of clothing for the night. “Fishnets and shorts, but no panties? You should’ve thought about that babygirl, now you’ll be walking around with my cum dripping down your legs.” his voice was deep and gravely, the sound sending chills throughout your body, making you even more wet. His fingers danced over the damp patch of your denim shorts, before roughly pressing the material onto your clit.

      He chuckled and shushed you as you cried out from the feeling, pressing a finger to your lips. “Shhh, be any louder and the entire town will wake up baby.” He helped you shimmy out of your shorts, ripping an even bigger hold in your tights. His thumb went back to your clit, sliding two fingers into you. He smiled at the sounds that came from you, as he slipped your shirt off and expertly unclasped your bra. He stilled his motions and sat back, looking at you sitting on his lap. Just for him.

      You were his.

      He bit down onto his swollen bottom lip, moaning at the sight of you. “God, you’re such a good girl for me.” His lips attached to your neck as he pulled his pants to the middle of his thighs, bringing you closer to him. His fingers started their doings again, shoving knuckle deep into you. He was sucking on your neck, your collarbones, leaving a trail of his marks everywhere his mouth touched. The coil in your stomach was winding tighter and tighter, his movements slowing as he felt you tightening around him.

      “J-Jimin, fuck, I-I’m gonna-” Your sentence was cut short by his lips on yours, but the absence of his fingers left you feeling empty. But before you could do anything more, you were met with the feeling of him deep inside you, wasting no time. Your hands were pressed against his chest, balling into fists, trying to find something to cope with from the immense and unimaginable pleasure he was giving you. He grit his teeth, his jaw tightening as a moan fell from his plump lips. He gripped your waist, helping you move up and down. There were bound to be bruises of his hands on your waist later that day.

      Not matter what the occasion, the issue, anything - Jimin always seemed to be able to mark you as his. His mark was left on your soul, and there was no way to change that. A ghost of his touch would have you shaking, trying to clutch onto something of him, to get him back to you. he had such a big effect on you, but you knew. You knew he wasn’t the boy. And it hurt.

      He was raising his hips to meet with you, snapping them up, reaching all the perfect spots in you. He re-positioned his hand, pressing his thumb against you, moving it in circles. You were already on the edge, but that shoved you over it and you landed in a pit of pure euphoria. Your mouth fell open, jaw slack, but nothing except the quiet pleas of his name escaped your throat. His hips sputtered as he watched you, a loud moan leaving his lips, as your name rolled off his tongue countless times. Sliding out of you, he watched as his cum ran down your thighs, a groan coming from him. He pulled your head down, holding it against his chest. His hand instinctively wrapped around your waist, protecting you from anything else. His other hand went to your hair, stroking it soothingly as he pressed a kiss to your head. “You’re perfect (Y/N)… Absolutely perfect.” He laid his shirt over you, covering you away from the world.

      You smiled up at him, pressing one last kiss to his jawline before slipping away into the best sleep you’ve ever had.


      You awoke in the middle of the day, wrapped up in Jimin’s arms. The radio was quieter now, soothing music flowing out from it. It looked to be about mid-day, the sun shining through the leaves on the trees. You quickly sat up, reaching for your clothes and pulling them on. Your hurried movements stirred Jimin in his sleep, his grip loosening around you.

      “Baby? What’s wrong? Why are you in such a hurry?” His voice was deep and husky, teasing you even more. Before he could pull you back down to him, you sat on his lap, kicking the car into drive.

      “If my mom’s awake my ass is toast,” you said, speeding out to the town roads. “Last time she burned her cigarette out on my eyelid. I don’t know why she give a fuck anymore.” You slowed down when you neared his house, leaning over and kissing his neck one last time. His eyebrows furrowed, his hand grasping yours.

      “Babygirl… I’m worried for you. You don’t deserve the shit your mom puts you through. God, I’ll fucking kill her if she lays a hand on you today…” There was a look in his eyes, one that told you - he wasn’t lying. His gaze hardened, glaring at nothing in particular. Your hand rested on his thigh, looking at him.

      “Jimin, it’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.” You weakly smiled at him, unlocking the doors for him. “Now get out before she really does hurt me.” You smiled and kissed his cheek, watching as he slipped away into his house. Your eyes glanced back to Mrs. Johnson’s old house, a moving truck sitting outside. Boxes were sitting on the curb and on the sidewalk, the stairs being taken over by a couch and a boy, clad in black jeans and white shirt, sitting on his phone with earbuds in. He had some tattoos scattered around his body, piercings gleaming in the sun. He must’ve been a senior, looking a few years younger than Jimin. You wondered why anyone would transfer to this shithole of a town when they only had a year of high school left. His sleeves were rolled up, his forehead doused in sweat, his shirt collar damp from hauling boxes under the summer rays. He hoisted himself up and slipped his phone into his pocket, muscles flexing against the weight of a box. His eyes trailing towards your figure sitting in the truck. Your hand flew to the stick shift, gunning it into gear. You sped around the corner, circling the block to get home. You pulled into the driveway, putting it into park and switching off the key. It was eleven by now, and you knew you were gonna have to get your own lunch rather than having your mother cook. Her car wasn’t in the driveway, so you figured she was either one, day drinking, or two, going out to fuck another piece of trash. With your head resting against the back seat, you looked around you. You had grown up in this small, boring town, your being doing nothing to make it more interesting. You wanted to get out of here so much, but you always told yourself: Two more years. 

      You backed out of the driveway again, passing the new boy’s house on the way to the grocery store. To your surprise, the familiar stance of Jimin was standing next to the boy on the steps. Pulling up behind the moving truck, you rolled down the passenger’s window and peeled your head out. “Jimin? You know the new guy?” Both of their heads turned to you and your jaw almost visibly dropped. He’s fucking gorgeous. They both are. A smile graced Jimin’s lips as he briefly turned and said something to the boy, and jogged over to you. He was sweaty again, and images of this morning’s antics flooded into your mind. You cursed your legs for crossing.

      “Yeah, I do now. But what are you doing here baby?” He leaned in through the window and rested on his elbows, one of his hands running through his hair.

      “I was just running to Jeff’s to get some chicken. Want me to bring you two some?” He smiled, his cheeks raising into his eyes and turning them into those adorable little crescents. The boy came back up, his gaze magnetized by yours. His eyes were deep, dark. Sad. People say that eyes tell all the secrets - his showed none. Nothing but a deep dark abyss, pulling you in farther than you would like. He was the sad boy; the one with daddy issues, who’s momma left after he was born, and copes by chain smoking and drinking. Scars on his back from his father’s belt. He looked like that type of mess. He wasn’t a person. He was a bomb, ready to self-destruct at the push of his button, hidden behind his left ribs. His hands were resting at his sides, fists clenched, knuckles scarred. Burns were scattered all over him, the butts of cigarettes leaving their imprints on his body, skin stretching over him like the most expensive canvas. He was a Mona Lisa in himself. A mystery.

      Jimin didn’t catch your entrancement in this boy’s deep orbs, so he turned nodding, saying to get a sixteen piece box. A hard smile spread over your lips, eyes ripping themselves away to look at the road.

      He was his own secret.


      You found yourself sitting on the boy’s front porch, a bucket of chicken on the steps in front of you, and two boys playing football in the lawn. For once in your life, you felt like you belonged somewhere. Somewhere where no one was dragging you down, where they’re drowning and pulling you down with them. Now, you were floating, because someone was stable enough to throw out a life preserver.

      He didn’t have a name. Or, to you he didn’t. He looked like someone so pained, that they couldn’t bother letting another person into their life. You didn’t think Jimin knew it either, because he said nothing of it at the truck. You mind was getting fuzzy, like in your dreams, everything disappearing around the edges. The boy looked clean cut though, like he was really the person with the rope, pulling you out from the raging waters of self-destruction. The ink in his skin etched out his story, a book written on his worn pages. Pictures of black lungs, skeletons and whiskey, knives and guns. You had two favorites so far - one, a man in a box, holding his knees to his chest, pulling the trigger against his head. A bouquet of flowers came from his opposite temple. The other, much more simple. A dotted line with a small pair of scissors running across his carotid artery. A sad boy, indeed. You wondered how much more art his body held.

      It hit you without any warnings.

      Pictures flashed through your mind, clawing at you. Withered white roses laying on the ground, a shattered mirror, and the boy’s bloody face, laying in your lap, with a piece of glass protruding through his throat. His figure was fading, blurred, a smile spread over his lips as his smile was directed up to you. A smile you didn’t know was capable from such a broken person. Your hand in his, swallowing it and the only blooming rose in the room, stained by the blood laying around you. That was it. Your past life came to you.

      And the boy in front of you was your soulmate.

      Hiding problems was no big feat for you, so your face stayed straight throughout the episode, hands shaking. It was all too much, too fast. You felt like you were supposed to crawl way and hide in bed, cradling yourself until the sobs racking through your body stopped, and you could breathe without a tear running down your cheek. But you sat, with that stupid chicken, on a stupid porch, watching stupid boys, in a stupid town, on a stupid planet that wasn’t ever supposed to happen. And you stayed silent, because you were too scared to do anything. You were shivering in this summer sun, the picture on him laying on your lap haunting you.

      No one noticed.

anonymous asked:

Ok I know this sounds weird...but..what would saeran do when he'a home alone??? I saw this same prompt sent in to another account but I wanted you to do it

Author’s note: Is this what you meant??? also IT’S NOT WEIRD and sorry this has been in my inbox forever 

Saeran

  • Well
  • Once, when he was home alone, he wanted to see what it would look like if he dressed up as his brother 
  • So he took out his contacts, put on a pair of Sevens’ glasses, and stole one of his jackets
  • Saeran looked at himself in the mirror
  • “Not bad…”
  • He began posing like his brother FINGER GUNS and mimicking him
  • “If anyone can hack it, I can.”
  • “Who’s genius idea was it to do that again? Oh yeah, mine.”
  • “MC, hand me a Dr. Pepper.”
  • “…Well, if you really want one, I just restocked the fridge.”
  • Saeran’s eyes widened 
  • He felt his face heat up and slowly turned around
  • “U-Uhh… how long have you been home?”
  • “Long enough,” you held up your phone and waved it around
  • He quickly grabbed it and looked at the MULTIPLE pictures you had taken of him
  • “Don’t bother deleting them,” you leaned against the door frame, “I already sent them all to my email.”
  •  “Just don’t tell Saeyoung,”  he handed you back your phone
  • “And what’ll you give me in return?”
  • “…I’ll clean the entire house.”
  • “Hmm…”
  • you smirked
  • “It’s a deal,” you held out your hand and shook his, “BUT, you have to wear Seven’s maid outfit.”
  • “WHAT??”
  • He pulled his hand away from your grip
  • “It’s too late!!! YOU ALREADY SHOOK ON IT!!”
  • “THAT’S NOT FAIR!”
  • “Then I guess you wouldn’t mind me sending this picture to the entire RFA.”
  • “…”
  • Saeran made a very cute maid

anonymous asked:

That adhd post u made is blessed...but if its ok can you give any advice for like...homework? Im great with test cause i hyperfocus but hw is hell for me. Thank you!!

Sorry for the late reply!! ADHD made me put off answering this until I forgot about it, lol.

Homework is something I still have trouble with, even as a college freshman, so idk how much help I can offer but Here Goes.


  • I like to listen to white noise when I do homework and study. Most people recommend listening to music but regular music does not work for me lol. I get distracted by the lyrics or the beat or something else, either way I end up zoning out. White noise meanwhile filters out outside noise while also not messing u up. Google white noise machines or other websites/apps that produce background noise to find your own thing!
  • Get rid of all distractions. Turn off your phone and bodily put it somewhere else; another room is best, but you can also slam it into a desk drawer if you have to. I waste… so much time on electronics it’s… really bad. This goes for the laptop as well! If you can, try to avoid doing all homework on your laptop. I’ve found that writing essays by hand saves me more time than typing, just because I always go on tumblr otherwise lol.
    • If you have to do homework on your laptop, save that for last just so you’ll get some stuff done for sure at the very least.
  • Have someone monitor you. It’s a little demeaning but like. You gotta do what you gotta do. If I’m sitting near my mom or in a public place, I feel bad if I’m not being productive. Guiltshame yourself into working.
    • I also sometimes show people what I have done. I’m a perfectionist so I feel embarrassed if I have sloppy or nonexistent work, so the ‘threat’ of having someone else see it forces me to get my best work done as quickly as possible. 
  • Some people really recommend setting timers. I haven’t personally tried it, but I can see how it would help. Try that out if you think it’ll help.
  • I try to stay as organized as possible during the school day, because that helps me tackle work once I get back to my dorm. I try to do homework either by when it’s due (so class order), or by the amount of work/focus it’ll take (to make sure I’m still on my meds at the time). It also gives you more control over the situation, so I recc doing it.

I hope this helps!!

4

valentine’s day over the years with nick and charlie

[nick and charlie are from solitaire by alice oseman]

Drabble Prompt: Isak and Even Sitting in a tree...

This work of crack fluff mess can only be blamed on @softestisak who has been hounding me about it for like 2 weeks. Here you go, dearest :P

(now i really wish I could draw because I want the two of them up in a tree more than life)

———————————

If there was ever one thing Isak could say about Even Bech Naesheim, it was that he was never boring.

“What’s the weather like down there?”

And Isak is dumbstruck with his hand over his eyes to block the sun but even the bright rays aren’t doing anything to cloud the sight in front of him.

Isak chokes out something of a laugh. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Even leans back, feet dangling unassumingly as his back hits the trunk of a giant oak tree. Only Even is not a normal person who would just oh-so-casually be sitting in front of the tree.

No.

He has to be the idiot who climbs the sucker. Who climbed the tree and is now sitting contentedly on a branch a good 10 feet up from the grass, looking like he hadn’t a care in the world.

That was Even Bech Naesheim.

“When I got your text, I was assuming a picnic or maybe that you were going to sketch something out here.”

“Ah Isak,” Even tilts his head back and closes his eyes for a few gentle moments. When he opens them again- well he has never looked so free, “You should know by now to expect the unexpected.”

“Are you stuck?”

Even laughs, but doesn’t reply.

What he does do, however, is kick his shoe at Isak; nearly nailing him the chest (thank god for quick reflexes,) Isak holds up the offending shoe in victory.

Even pats the spot next to him, “Let’s go.”

“What?” Isak looks around, “Me? Up there? No?”

“Why not?”

“’Why not,’ he asks,” Isak says, pitching his voice lowly, “Um- because I don’t want to die?”

“Come on, baby. If I can get up here so can you.” Even pauses and the corners of his mouth tilt up, “Unless you’re too scared?”

Isak rolls his eyes, “No- I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to psych me out; make me feel like I want to go up there to prove something.” 

“Oh,” Even leans his head back and shuts his eyes again, pulling down a pair of Isak’s sunglasses down from the crown of his head, “Suit yourself down there.”

Well then.

Isak stands there for approximately a minute and a half.

“Fuck.” And he throws his backpack down, making for the trunk of the tree. The climb isn’t too bad; really it only takes like five moves maximum before he’s slinging himself onto the same branch. 

Even grins and slides the sunglasses back up, “Look at you.”

“I’m going to die,” Isak looks down and shuts his eyes, “Can this branch hold us?”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

“That’s comforting.” Isak takes a breath and leans back against the trunk, turning his head ever so slightly to look at his boyfriend, “Halla. Why are we in a tree?”

Even shrugs, “I planned a picnic- the food is down there on the other side- 

“I knew it.”

“-but then I just wanted to feel like I was above the ground for a little while. It’s weird to explain.”

Isak lets out a small puff of air through his nose, “Not it’s not. Makes sense.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

Isak scooted over the tiniest bit, barely holding in undignified squeaks when the branch shakes a bit with effort, but finally stops when his thing is pressed firmly up against Even’s.

Even glances at Isak’s face. “Hi.”

And then something passes over his face and he’s laughing hard enough to shake the surrounding branches. Isak clamps down on the trunk, “What the fuck?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Even inhales, “I just though- you know that children’s song? The one about kissing in a tree?”

Isak looks at him like he’s crazy, “What?”

“You know,” Even hums, “Isak and Even sitting in a tree…”

He trails off and waits for Isak to fill in the blanks…

“Oh that one,” Isak laughs a bit too, stopping when the branch moves again, “K- I- S-S-I-N-G.”

Even’s eyes are bright as he reaches out a hand to smooth down Isak’s cheek, before cupping the back of his neck and pulling him in a bit. Just enough to brush his lips across Isak’s.

When he pulls back, Isak is soft and smiley. “Wasn’t that just adorable? Eskild would be melting. We should Instagram this.”

Theo had been off for a couple weeks now. He wasn’t as talkative, didn’t have as many asshole comments to make, didn’t spend as much time playing video games and just hanging out, and, if Liam was being completely honest, it freaked him out. A lot.

After the war with the hunters and the Anuki-te the relationship between Liam and Theo had changed drastically. Instead of being “allies” they were now friends, really good friends too. Theo had moved into the spare bedroom in the Greyer-Dunbar household after Liam found out he was sleeping in his truck and things escalated from there.

Now, eight months after the war, Liam thought things were good. The supernatural threats in Beacon Hills were at an all time low so he could focus on school, he had a great relationship with his friends, and even though Scott and the others weren’t home at the moment, he was relaxed and had a handle on things.

He thought everything was fine until he noticed Theo avoiding him. It hurt Liam, he really thought that he and Theo were getting somewhere but now he didn’t know what to think. Liam though he could live with it and maybe Theo would snap out of whatever this mood of his is but there were no signs of that happening any time soon.

One day Theo was sitting in the kitchen doing homework and talking to Liam’s mom. Liam walked into the kitchen as Theo and him mom laughed over something Theo said, but Theo’s laughed died down the instant Liam walked into the room. His mom said something to Liam but he wasn’t paying attention, he was too focused on Theo who wouldn’t look him in the eye. He lost it when Theo packed up his things on the counter and went upstairs making sure he didn’t brush against Liam on his way up.

Liam was livid. He had had enough and stormed after Theo, leaving his mother in the middle of a sentence he didn’t even hear. He knew Theo could hear him trailing behind so when a bedroom door slammed in his face, Liam didn’t even hesitate and just barged into Theo’s room.

“What the hell Liam?” Theo asked after whipping around to look Liam in the eye.

Liam was fuming, even he could smell the anger rolling off of him, “You’re asking me what the hell? I should be the one asking you What the Hell!” Theo stared at him blankly as if he knew exactly what this conversation was going to be. “For weeks you’ve been ignoring me, avoiding me, leaving a room when I walk in. What is going on Theo? I though we were in a good place, I thought we were friends and then you just turn around and act like I’m a gross scab that won’t go away. So what’s your deal Raeken?”

Theo clenched his fists and looked down at the ground, once again avoiding Liam’s gaze.

It was then that Liam could smell the anxiety and fear rolling off of Theo and he realized that something was really bothering him. Liam calmed down instantly, feeling bad for yelling at his friend.

“Theo, what’s wrong?” He asked, taking a step towards Theo. Thankfully, he didn’t move away.

“I just… have a lot of things on my mind” Theo answered, “I, uh, I’ve made mistakes that I can’t seem to fix right now…” his voice trailed off and Liam walked closer to him

“Theo, I know you’ve made mistakes but you’re redeeming yourself and-“ Theo cut him off “Not those mistakes Liam, new ones. I accidentally did something that is really hard to take back” liam could hear his heartbeat pick up and he spoke. Liam gently put a hand on his arm only to have Theo tug away.

“Well,” Liam began, “you know that you can always come talk to me about these “mistakes” you’ve made. Besides, compared to your previous ones they can’t be that bad can they?” He joked, failing to get a joyous reaction out of Theo.

Theo turned away from Liam and faced the wall. His heartbeat was crazy and he sighed and said, “you have to promise that you don’t get mad at me or kick me out or think that this changes anything between us okay?” Liam nodded and hummed his response. Theo took a deep breath, “I made the mistake of falling in love with my best friend…” he whispered, half hoping that Liam wouldn’t hear him but knowing that he in fact would.

Liam scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion. He didn’t understand why Theo would keep this from him let alone keep it from him because he was afraid it would alter their friendship.

Then he tried to figure out who he could possibly be talking about because the majority of their friends were guys and dating each other so…

“Oh, um, who?” He asked, legitimately curious.

Theo let out a sad huff of air and turned around to look at Liam again. There were tears in his eyes, resting dangerously beautiful on the rim as he laughed, “you, asshole” his heartbeat was going crazy.

Liam froze, but stared at Theo in disbelief, “you mean…” he began but his words trailed off.

“Yeah,” said Theo “I’m in love with you.”

“I’m your best friend?” Liam asked over Theo.

Theo looked at Liam like he had three heads, “Are you kidding?” He asked “of course you’re my best friend, who else would it be?”

Liam looked down at his feet in embarrassment, “well I don’t know.” He mumbled.

“Liam,” started Theo as he stepped forward, “did you hear what I just said to you? I just told you I loved you.” Theo could hear Liam’s heartbeat pick up as he said it again and could smell something on Liam he hadn’t smelt before, he couldn’t figure out what it was though.

Liam look up at Theo and his heart beat even faster. “You’re in love with me.” He repeated

Theo laughed again, “I think we’ve already established that.” His laughter died down and a sad look appeared once again. “Listen Liam, I don’t expect you to positively respond meet alone reciprocate my feelings but now that you know I hope this doesn’t drastically change things between us an-“ Theo didn’t get to finish his thought.

Liam had wrapped his arms around the back of Theo’s neck and yanked him down to smash their lips together. Theo let out a sigh and relaxed against Liam, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss. Liam moved his hands into Theo’s hair, entwining his fingers as Theo tightened his grip around Liam’s waist. Theo hummed in satisfaction and breathed in the intoxicating scent of Liam Dunbar.

When they finally pulled apart, neither one of them could help but smile. “So,” Theo started, “I guess that’s a positive response”

Liam brushed his nose against Theo’s, “I guess I can say I fell in love with my best friend too.”



So, this is my very first fic ever posted online and I’m kind of terrified so if you like it please let me know. I really enjoy writing it calms me down so hopefully there will be more to come! Have a great day/night everyone thanks for reading!

- Ally

Not a Lady: Part 2 (Loki x Reader)

Note: Thank you for all the kind responses to my first part (part 1) so here is the next bit, I hope you like it!

Words: 2638


You’d guarded prisoners before. You’d even done stints like this where you were observing them 24 hours a day, but none of those experiences had prepared you for Loki. He spent all day, every day, in silence, just watching you from the comfort of your sofa as you went about your daily business. Unfortunately, you were in a rut with your work so had nowhere near as much to do as you’d have liked which meant busying yourself with pointless tasks that only seemed to amuse him more.

One the third day of him being in your home, as you served up lunch, Loki suddenly broke his silence and suggested, “If you’re as bored as me cooped up in here, why not go for a walk? You could clearly use it. You look awful.”

               “Thanks for your concern,” you grumbled. You’d seen your reflection in the mirror after waking from your first hour’s sleep since he’d arrived and thought the same. There was only so long you could survive on coffee before you ended up shifting to stronger measures but you felt too uncomfortable with the god of mischief around to let your guard down and rest. “I’ll be fine.”

Stifling a yawn, you downed your third cup of coffee that hour and stood to get another when Loki said, “You’ve probably had enough of that stuff. Of course, if you want to overdose, please, be my guest. It will save me from having to deal with you when I leave.”

               “You’re not leaving,” you said slowly, putting the empty cup back down on the table and sitting down.

               “Believe that if you want.”

Keep reading

BabyDaddy!Cal Pt.6

A/N: I’m really struggling putting these chapters out and I feel bad for it, but I want y'all to know I’m doing the best I can. Surprisingly, I typed this up a bit fast and it turned out well in my opinion, so I’m guessing the writers block is diminishing. Y'all know to get this to 100 notes and feedback is very much appreciated (especially rn). Hope you nuggets enjoy💕

**WARNINGS**: Smut because it’s highly requested and  to makeup for my struggles in the last chapter


Parts: one, two, three, four, five, six,seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty{END}


“So, now that I’ve told you the latest drama, how’s tour been?” Connor smiled through the screen of your phone while cuddled up into Felix’s chest. You hadn’t spoken to your boys since you’d left for the tour two weeks ago and missed them dearly.“You and nugget okay?”

“It’s great and we’re fine."you reassured as you munched on some pickles. It’s crazy how often you crave the salty snack. "It’s fun as hell traveling the world.”

“I bet. You’ve seen more places than both of us ever will.” Felix chuckled.“What about you and Calum? How many times have you beat him?”

“Like three.” Calum hopped into your conversation as he plopped down beside you, placing his head into your lap the best he could while your belly poked his head.“ I deserved it, though.”

Keep reading

hands clasped tight: coming oct 23 for the @1dreversebang

Harry turns up the charm a few notches, flashing Jack a dimpled smile. He’s a nice guy, really, one that Harry can see himself grabbing a few beers with after work. It doesn’t hurt that he’s handsome, as well as funny and kind to boot. He almost feels a little bad he’s mostly using him to make Louis jealous.

“Wait, hang on,” Harry says, touching Jack’s forearm gently. “I’ve got a hotel recommendation for you if you want it.”

Jack smiles. “Yes, absolutely.”

Jack pulls out his own phone, just as Harry expected he would, and as he reads off the name of the hotel for him to write down, Louis excuses himself from the conversation with Steve and makes his way through the crowd, just like Harry knew he would.

“Thanks so much,” Jack says, pocketing his phone. “I’ve really been looking forward to going there for years.”

“It’s gorgeous,” Harry says. “I think you’ll really enjoy your stay there.”

Jack is just starting to reply when a warm hand winds its way around Harry’s waist.

“Hello, dear, I was just beginning to wonder where you’d gone off to,” Louis says sweetly, and he turns to Jack. “Hi, I’m Louis. Harry’s husband. Who are you?”

To his credit, Jack doesn’t falter. “Hi, I’m Jack. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Louis says. His tone is agreeable, but Harry’s spent the last six years with Louis; he can detect the possessiveness that undercuts his words, feels it in the way that he digs his fingers into Harry’s waist the tiniest bit. “Harry, can I talk to you about something for a minute?”

“I can go,” Jack says, clearly sensing the tension. “Was just getting ready for a refill anyway.”

Louis shakes his head and turns back to Harry, eyes dark. “That’s okay. We’ll find a place. Nice meeting you, hope you enjoy the rest of the party.”

Something builds in the pit of Harry’s stomach as he bids goodbye to Jack and follows Louis out of the living room. It might be nerves, it might be arousal; all he knows is he kind of likes it. When they get to the kitchen, Louis turns on his heel suddenly, crowding Harry back against the counter.

“What are you doing?” he hisses, jaw set tight.

Harry shrugs. “Socializing? Making new friends?”

Louis frowns. “Is that what we’re calling it these days?”

Harry swallows and looks at the floor, then back at Louis’ face. They’re pressed close together in the quiet kitchen, the only noise that of the thumping music coming a few rooms over. “It’s just chatting.”

“Mhm. Flirting with this random guy you just met? Is this your idea of keeping it fresh?” His tone is pure jealousy now, and Harry loves watching him get heated.

“You’re not the only good looking guy here, you know.”

“Stop fucking with me until we get home,” Louis says, voice commanding, mouth close to Harry’s ear. The sound of it sends goosebumps scattering across Harry’s skin.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Harry says, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“I think I do,” Louis hisses. “I know what you’re trying to do, and you need to stop.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Why, is it working?”

“No.”

Harry leans in to whisper in Louis’ ear, just as he brings his hand down to trail his fingers lightly across the crotch of Louis’ jeans. “Sure seems like it is. Seems like you’re pissed off and turned on and jealous.”

The next moment passes in a blur: Louis lets out a strangled whine, mutters a curse, and then grasps Harry’s wrist firmly and drags him down the hall. Harry follows without thinking; neither of them have been here before and they have no idea where they’re going, but thankfully the first door that Louis tries is the bathroom. He shoves Harry inside, locking the door behind them.