where di you come from

pairing: reader x warren
prompt: “Don’t act all high and mighty just because you’ve never killed something with your bare hands.”
warnings: swearing, existential crisis
word count: 623

You and Warren were definetly a…weird couple.

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25 metres

title: 25 metres

word count: 4k

pairings/other notes: jikook, yoonseok, santa!jimin, elf!hoseok, elf!taehyung, manager!yoongi, sadcashier!jungkook, mall!bangtan. jungkook is a shy cashier and loves how the Christmas exhibition is only 25 metres away from the 7/11, especially when he can get the best view of the new santa with chiselled thighs.

a/n: hello! I promised 9th december but it’s 2 days later. haha. I’m not sorry. I stayed up again to write this, I’m super tired but I hope you enjoy it! should I make a second part? I got asked on ao3 to write a sequel but I think it fits better as a oneshot, maybe I’ll write a spinoff. anyway, thanks to all of you for being so kind! my first fic did p well, I was legit expecting only 10 notes but it got a lot more than that and it’s encouraging me to put myself out there. anyway, enjoy!

With you, shawty with you

With you, shawty with you

With you, under the mistletoe…

           the song has been on repeat for the past hour, and jungkook thinks he might physically tear out his ears if it means he doesn’t have to hear justin bieber wail anymore. he slumps against the counter, cheek brushing the cool plastic.

           just five more hours, jeon jungkook. five more.

           the bell at the door jingles, signifying the entrance of a new patron. jungkook hastily straightens the red hat on his head, sits up, and smiles as warmly as he can.

           “Welcome to 7/11!”

           A young mother pushes past the glass door, five-year-old in tow. the small boy is chortling as he fiddles with the reindeer antlers on his head, his mother smiling down on him with such love that jungkook feels himself melting a little. the brunnette places a coke down on the counter, fishing for her wallet. jungkook is eye-level with what seems to be a squirming lump, and he paints on the biggest grin he can muster.

           “hey there little guy! came from the christmas exhibition?”

           the five-year-old takes one look at the handsome jungkook, who is all angular features, with a smile so wide it radiates sunbeams. jungkook stares back at the curious toddler, pulling a funny face in an attempt to make him laugh. the child cocks his head, and opens his mouth. tears start to pool at the base of his eyes, and jungkook silently curses.

           “Mom!! stalker!

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Request: Can you do an imagine where the reader comes up in the box and uses a crutch because her left leg got hurt in an accident of some sort and she and Newt bond over having bum legs? Next x reader if you didn’t catch that

“Newt!” He tumbled from his hammock at the sudden noise. Groaning at the impact, Newt snapped at Minho, “What?”

“New Greenie today,” he continued to try to get him up, “Up and at ‘em.” Minho’s energy was too overwhelming for Newt’s sleepy state.

“Up and at ‘em,” he repeated sleepily.

“Let’s go.”

“Let’s go.”

Minho smirked a bit. “Bloody.”

“Bloody,” Newt continued to repeat, dead to the world.


“Klunk.” Finally, Minho grew bored of the game and physically pulled him from the floor. “Seriously, Newt,” he reprimanded, “I expect more from the second most Glader in charge.”

“I don’t think that sentence made sense.” Newt just shoved him out of the room so he could get dressed.

You woke up with a start. Darkness surrounded you. Blurry outlines of boxes were everywhere. A feeling of claustrophobia ran through you. You were in some box.

It began quickly moving up. Lights flashed from outside. You couldn’t stand up in the box, but you tried to crawl to the sides. There were spaces in between the floor and walls.

In a terrible attempt to escape, you simply tried to get out, foot first, through the gap. A searing pain appeared in your right ankle. Your skin was getting torn apart. You desperately pulled at your leg so the pain would stop. Tears ran down your face at the pain. You were stuck.

The box slowed down and the top opened, blinding you with the lights. You looked at your trapped leg. Blood surrounded it. Numbness was settling.

A metallic smell came with the Box. Newt crinkled his nose at the familiar smell. Gally ignored the smell and jumped in.

He smelled around before realizing what the smell was. The other Gladers waited for the new Greenie, but Gally shouted, “Get a MedJack!”

Newt went towards the Box to see you in a pool of blood. “It’s a girl!” Some Glader yelled.

“Who shucking cares?” Minho demanded, “Get her out of there.” The MedJacks came to their senses and carried you carefully to their Hut.

You were unconscious for a while. Newt would check on you at least once a day. The MedJacks said that if you woke up, your leg would probably be worse than his.

He was walking over to check on you when Minho caught up. “Are you checking your Sleeping Beauty?” He teased.

Newt dismissed, “That’s not her name, shank.”

“It might as well be. Maybe you should kiss her to see if she wakes up.”

“Yeah,” he sarcastically replied, “And then she could punch me in the face.” Minho left him with you. You weren’t terrible company. “Hello,” Newt said awkwardly, “Me again.”

He knew that it was almost like talking to a brick wall, but he continued, “Silly thing to happen. The last guy who tried to escape through where the Box comes from died. Guess you didn’t know that.”

When you woke up, Newt kept his distance at first. You told the Gladers your name and they told you about the Glade.

Since running was definitely out of the question, you were a Cook. Something about the Kitchen really made you feel at home, wherever that was.

Newt started talking to you when you actually got a crutch in the Box. It was awkward at first, since the only thing you thought that you had in common with Newt were bad legs, but once you two talked more, you realized how easy it was to talk to the British Track Hoe.

The two of you began hanging out around the Glade. Whenever both of you had a break, you two would simply chat about the day.

When Newt told you how he got his limp, you realized how much you liked Newt. You made him promise to never do it again because you ‘like him too much’. Newt’s pulse raised when he heard you say that. He was starting to like you as well.

The little things you did made Newt like you even more. With your bad leg, Newt didn’t feel the need to speed up his actions. He also felt like he would die if he didn’t tell you, but he was also nervous that you wouldn’t like him back that way.

One night at the Bonfire, you were smuggled against Newt while the fire slowly died down. He looked at you to see that you had drifted to sleep. Gathering his courage, Newt swiftly kissed your forehead. To his pleasure, you smiled in your sleep.

Remembering how he would talk to you while you were unconscious, Newt began whispering sweet nothings in your ear, all about what he liked about you. Basically everything.

Newt looked at you for a while before your eyes opened sleepily. “Hey, Newt,” you yawned. He didn’t respond. His courage got the best of him and he leaned in to place his lips on yours. You returned the kiss almost immediately.

The kiss lasted until the both of you needed air. Newt looked at you with shock. He couldn’t believe that he had just done that. “Uh, sorry,” he stuttered nervously, “That was very sudden and you probably wasn’t expecting it.”

“I enjoyed it.”

“It was most likely-” Newt paused, “Wait, sorry?”

You smiled shyly. “I enjoyed the kiss, Newt.”

“Does that mean you have-”

“Only if you do,” you replied, just as nervously.

Minho said from the pile of asleep Gladers near the Bonfire, “Just shucking kiss again and be quiet!”

That’s exactly what the two of you did.

  • Dean in season 5 about the Cage: That's the thing. It's not on me to let you do anything. You're a grown -- well, overgrown -- man. If this is what you want, I'll back your play. You're not a kid anymore, Sam, and I can't keep treating you like one. Maybe I got to grow up a little, too.
  • Dean in season 11 about the Cage: NOPE. *has not grown up even a little and may have in fact regressed*

anonymous asked:

I rly wanna move to turkey :(

do you really ? bc the general sentiment now, in my social circle at least, is to get the fuck out (i don’t dis/agree). especially after the referendum. but depending on where you’re coming from and where you end up living in turkey (if you’re coming to istanbul - you want to look at kadıköy or the prince islands) i guess it can be kind of amazing. anyway, let me know what happens. 


       “thank god you’re here.” he’s got one baby on his arm pulling on his curls ( he really needs to cut them off, eleanora is obsessed with them ) and one baby going crazy upstairs and no energy left in his body. he’s never been so happy to see his ex-husband and he has to stop himself from throwing himself into his arms and keep him right there. “you’re a lifesaver.”

In Words

AN: Happy birthday Inge. I wrote this crackfic satire in one massive sitting for you because you’re awesome-sauce. I hope you don’t mind that I did a little “borrowing” and that you have a wonderful day. 

“And by the way, Monsieur Marius, I believe that I was a little bit in love with you.”

She tried to smile once more and expired.

-Victor Hugo, Les Miserables, pg 754

The world went black with a resounding and angry thud. It was something that Eponine no longer took personally, and over the past 152 years, had learned to take as a compliment. Still, she laid in Marius’ arms for another few seconds just to be safe—you never knew when a reader might come back. Sometimes they just popped off for a few seconds to the toilet, other times they left for weeks before returning. The worst were the Double R’s—repeat readers—who liked to scour over their favorite bits over and over again with hardly a moment’s notice. 

Sometimes, they never came back at all but those were usually the overly ambitious students, people who had no idea what they were getting into and ultra pretentious literary types who liked to list all the difficult-to-read books they’d pretended to have read at dinner parties. They usually stopped somewhere around page twenty—a fact that made the Bishop of D— very upset. Often, during the great lulls when nobody was reading, the Bishop drank himself silly at Corinthe, moaning to anyone who’d listen about how young folk today had no appreciation for great literature.

“Great job today,” Marius said after a few beats. He helped her sit up, brushing some of the gunpowder off her hand, which magically healed now that the reader had left the book for the night. “It’s been a while since we’ve gotten this far.”

“Thanks,” Eponine replied. “This one is a close reader too. Makes it harder to fudge.”

“Yeah. I noticed,” Marius grimaced. “And I don’t think she likes me much. She keeps imagining me with this ridiculous hair and freckles.” 

Eponine rolled her eyes. They’d been through it a million times before. “It’s the movie Marius. They watch the movie and then we start looking like movie Marius and movie Eponine.”

“I still don’t get it. Pictures that move? Are you sure?”

She shrugged. The details of how reading actually worked was fuzzy and after 152 years, they still hadn’t figured it out. The creator, a rather grumpy looking bearded man, had written them into being and then suddenly, they were alive. Theoretically, Eponine knew she was little more than a jumble of words describing an idea of a person. For the longest time, she hadn’t even been totally sure of her own face. That depended entirely on the reader. Sometimes she was little more than a waif with horrible teeth. But more recently, she had become prettier. Less emaciated, her hair less prone to falling out and sometimes, when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she reminded herself to thank Samantha. Whoever she was.

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RolePlayers, Y u do dis 2 me? ;-;

I hope you all understand where I’m coming from with this post! @ask-nurse-bloodshot and I have been discussing this topic and we both agree that RolePlay asks are no longer wanted in our inboxes!

literally half my “asks” are just roleplays and have no contribution to my story ;-; They slow down all the action and stunt the good stuff… NO ONE is learning about my characters from these asks. Which makes me sad…

I wanted to give you guys some flashy panels to enjoy rather than me just typing paragraph after paragraph at you with no pictures! XD

((Thank you for taking time to read!!))

((and thanks for understanding!!)


“YOU DID WHAT?” Dean says

“I sold my soul to Crowley” you say quietly

“WHY?” says Sam

“You guys were dead and I couldn’t save all 3 of you by myself. I did what I had to do. Why are you so upset at me?” you explain

The blue eyed angel looked at Dean and Sam. You could tell he was saying “I got this guys” without even saying a word.Then he looks at you with the most worried look on his face.

“(Y/N) You’re so young and even though you had your heart in the right place, you made a adult decision.”

“But Cas I’m (Y/Age) years old. I’m not a baby. You guys have saved me so many times when I died, I want to do the same” you say

“I understand. It’s just, you have a full life ahead of you and if the day comes where God cuts your life short, I want to guarantee that your soul will go to heaven. If I had the ability to sleep, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing you’re in hell. After all you’ve done to help save Earth, you deserve to be with God” he says

“We love you and we care so much about you. As your brothers, we’ve seen you grow to be a beautiful young lady and yeah we understand that you want to make some choices on your own but if you make the wrong choices, you could end up getting seriously hurt or even dead” Sam says

“I can’t live the rest of my life knowing that my little sister died.” Dean says

“ I see where you guys are coming from. I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again.” you say.

“ Well I’m pretty sure you won’t be able to do it again” Cas says

“What do you mean?” you ask

“There’s nothing we can really do right now. He has it…it’s his now. I promise I’ll find a way to get it back” he says

“Be honest with me (Y/N). Did you like the kiss?” Dean asks

“Does it matter?” you ask

“ No. I ju-" 

"Then drop it” you say

“You did like it!” he says

“No I didn’t.” you say

“Yes you did!” he syas

You two continue to banter fro the next 5 minutes whther or not you liked Crowley or not