who am i even talking to down here


warning: triggers apply. adult language, sexual themes, violence, offensive subjects, offensive behaviors. please read & reblog with caution.

❛ And what exactly does “hooked up” mean? ❜
❛ It’s like a car wreck… you can’t not watch. ❜
❛ What’s that smell? It’s either vomit or fancy cheese. ❜
❛ There is no God. We’re all gonna die. ❜
❛ The hell? You’re supposed to negotiate! ❜
❛ If you’re looking for money, I don’t have any yet.  ❜
❛ How do you feel about metal splinters to the eye? ❜
❛ Are you up-to-date on your rabies shots? ❜
❛ I don’t like that you’re getting hurt on purpose to make money. ❜
❛ You’re kidding me? You’re actually serious about this shit? ❜
❛ You’re kinda growing on me. ❜
❛ Wanna see how fast I can unhook your bra? ❜
❛ You make my life a living hell and I want you out of here now. ❜
❛ Half of the world has penises, why do people get so upset about seeing them? ❜
❛ You’re nothing but a warm mouth to me. ❜
❛ I think I’m depressed. I’ve been feeling kind of funky lately. ❜
❛ I never said it was yours. You just wanted it to be. ❜
❛ Wouldn’t be the first time somebody’s disappointed me. ❜
❛ I don’t mean to be an asshole. It’s just… genetic. ❜
❛ Fuck you is what you were invited to. ❜
❛ I can’t even begin to imagine what kind of pussy you’d be in juvie. ❜
❛ I want normal people problems. Like, am I getting enough fiber? ❜
❛ Hey, I think I just insulted myself. ❜
❛ Hey! What the fuck man! He’s/she’s dead! ❜
❛ Oh, could you be a little more vague? ❜
❛ You came all the way down here to talk about my pubes? ❜
❛ How the fuck do you not have a gun? ❜
❛ Sure you’re ready to pop your armed robbery cherry? ❜
❛ You should have seen your face. ❜
❛ You don’t know who you messed with, bitch. ❜
❛ You fuck with the bull, you get an ass full of horns! ❜
❛ I’m not used to having people yell at me all day long. ❜
❛ I have this friend. I think you two might really hit it off. ❜
❛ I’ve seen you put out after the first drink. ❜
❛ You know, I’d hug you but neither of us would like that. ❜
❛ I don’t get why just don’t use her/his face for target practice. ❜
❛ I want a fucking lawyer motherfucker! ❜
❛ You’re covering your own ass and you know it. ❜
❛ You know I used a condom. ❜
❛ Do you know where I can buy a gun? ❜
❛ You think you scare me? Bring it, bitch! ❜
❛ I’m starting to get fucking homicidal. ❜
❛ I will make this kitchen my bitch. ❜
❛ They’re having a party for kids across the street. No booze. ❜
❛ A shrink at school says I’m one of God’s mistakes. ❜
❛ I believe the answer to that question, like the answer to most questions, is fuck you! ❜
❛ Did the two of us finish an entire gallon of box wine the other night? ❜
❛ I can’t handle anything up my ass without alcohol! ❜
❛ I’d be crying right now if I wasn’t so high. ❜
❛ I’m not my dad. You hear me? I’m not my fucking dad! ❜
❛ I would never do half the shit that you’ve done to us. Why are you even here? ❜
❛ Even the homeless get better stuff than us. ❜
❛ I am just as likely as anyone of this family to make something of myself. ❜
❛ You want to get shit faced in the middle of the day.  ❜
❛ You have no money yet you’re going into a grocery store. Interesting. ❜
❛ Let’s go get drunk and buy a gun. ❜
❛ It’s a shame when someone you love gets taken away, isn’t it? ❜
❛ If this is a relationship you wanna save, then you gotta fucking save it. ❜
❛ Off to deal drugs on a Saturday morning? ❜
❛ I’m probably biased, you deserve better than him. ❜
❛ If you don’t get out right now, I will shoot you. ❜
❛ Still don’t want your family to know? ❜
❛ Did I mention that I’m falling in love with you? ❜
❛ You can’t feel a persons headache by touching his head. ❜
❛ Are you robbing me with my own fucking gun? ❜
❛ How can you tell when you’re in love with someone? ❜
❛ Is that supposed to be some kind of insult? ❜
❛ I’m done living the way other people want me to live. ❜
❛ I think I was trying to prove something, not to you but to myself.  ❜
❛ If it wasn’t sex then what was the problem? ❜
❛ What do you want me to say? That I’m self-destructive? ❜
❛ Random destruction makes you think of me? ❜
❛ I haven’t abused marijuana like the rest of you, so yes I remember. ❜
❛ Your turf? What is this West Side Story? ❜
❛ All I’m gonna be thinking about while you choke me out is how much I love you. ❜
❛ If I don’t invest in myself, no one else will. ❜
❛ It smells worse than a dead hooker’s ass in there. ❜
❛ I don’t wanna be me anymore. ❜
❛ Why would anyone go to the zoo sober? ❜
❛ I’ve had so many abortions the next one is free. ❜
❛ I’d trade my left nut for one more hour of sleep. ❜
❛ How do you do that? The nice thing? ❜
❛ I’m sick of living in your shadow. ❜
❛ I never thought I’d say this but you were right. ❜
❛ Where can I get knives and blunts? ❜
❛ I can’t share a room with someone in constant state of arousal! ❜
❛ I’m sneaking antibiotics into his toothpaste just in case. ❜
❛ I got tasered for like a second and I crapped myself. ❜
❛ I’ve never seen you put on deodorant before. ❜
❛ I haven’t had a drink for two days…well granted I was unconscious. ❜
❛ I’ll be in the bushes across the street stalking you. ❜
❛ Is there anything more enjoyable on earth than humiliating your peers? ❜
❛ I need to buy a gun. For protection. In case there’s a shooting here. I’m scared. ❜
❛ It’s my job to tell you when you’re making a huge mistake. ❜
❛ Have you ever woken up naked in the street with no idea how you got there? ❜
❛ You’re either boning or you’re waiting to bone. ❜
❛ Doctors are thieves, they just have degrees to keep them out of jail. ❜
❛ You want me to be realistic? Okay, I’ll be realistic. ❜
❛ I confided in you and you told everyone. ❜
❛ I have no idea what that means but I’m enjoying trying to picture it. ❜
❛ I never made any fucking promises to you! ❜
Secrets (Part Two) (Trans!Peter)

So there has been a lot more anti-trans or negative trans things all over Tumblr recently thanks to— well we all know what its thanks to.

I had a specific request for something positive and pro-trans and I absolutely agree we could all handle something positive and fluffy and nice, so here we go.

This is a Part Two to my first trans!peter fic Secrets.

For those who haven’t read PART ONE— Peter is Tom Holland/15 years old, the relationship between he and Deadpool is strictly platonic. This is not Spideypool shipping, this is just a friendship.

Trans!Peter and protective dad!Tony and protective friend!Wade

“You’re gonna stay with me, right?” Peter asked nervously and Wade patted his shoulder comfortingly.

“Not going anywhere Spidey. Just here for support.”

“Thanks.” Peter rubbed at his chest, tugging uncomfortably on his binder.

“You alright? Do we need to loosen it?” Wade was still in full costume, mask and katanas and all, but he started pulling his gloves off to help Peter if needed.

“No.” Peter shook his head. “No it’s fine, just… just feeling super noticeable right now.”

“Not noticeable.” Wade assured him. “Since we got rid of that ugly black thing, this nude one blends in a lot better.”

“Ok.” Peter took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Wade kept a big hand on Peter’s shoulders as they headed into the living room of the Avengers compound, sitting down together on the couch across from where Tony was sitting, jotting notes down as he read through a file.

“Deadpool. You take your hand off my kid or I’m gonna break it off.” Tony said without even looking up and Wade laughed before removing his hand and leaning back, folding his arms over his chest.

“What are you even doing here? I feel like last time you and I ran into each other—”

“Mr Stark.” Peter interrupted before Tony could unleash some sort of verbal destruction on the mercenary. “I really need to talk to you.”

“What’s up, kiddo?” Tony put his file down instantly, leaning forward and clasping his hands loosely between his knees. “Everything alright?”

“Mr Stark–” Peter looked at Wade for encouragement, who sent him a thumbs up. “I am– I am–trans.”


Peter took a deep breath and pulled his t shirt off, exposing both his binder and the slightly reddened spot where he took his injections. “I’m um… This is who I am.”


Then, “Trans.” Tony repeated. “So. Um transsexual? Transgender? Is there a difference? I don’t even know. Okay. Trans. Alright. How long? Can I ask that?”

“I’ve been transitioning for close to a year.” Peter offered and Tony nodded. “I take testosterone injections, and wear a binder to keep everything–” he made a motion over his chest. “It’s been more difficult to hide with being Spider-Man but–but I’m working on it.”

“Okay.” Tony nodded again. “Alright.”

“So–” Peter spread his hands uncertainly. “So, I wanted you to know.”

“Did you tell this one before you told me?” Tony pointed at Wade who made an offended noise.

“Wade found me when I was hurt one night–”


“–I was fine. But Wade had to help me and he found out and– and you know it was nice to have someone know, and I didn’t want to hide it anymore. I don’t want you to feel like I’m lying to you about anything. Aunt May says–”

“May knows?” Tony interrupted. “About the binding and the shots and this guy?”

“Well maybe not about me hanging out with Pool, but I mean, yeah. Everything else. She has to pay for the injections so–.”

“Okay.” Tony folded his arms. “I’m gonna need the suit back.”

“Mr Stark!” Peter cried, suddenly much closer to tears than he’d been just a moment before. “Why would you–”

“Check it out, Iron Dildo.” Wade snapped, and leaned forward with something like a growl. “How bout you back the fuck off, see that this kid is trying to be honest with you and you being an asshole isn’t going to—”

“Hey, guy who kills people for money, how about you shut up for two minutes and let me talk?” Tony retorted. “Peter, give me your suit.”

Peter reached into his back slowly and pulled out the suit, handing it over to Tony with shaking hands.

Tony turned it over a few times, looking at it thoughtfully. “So.” he cleared his throat. “So should we talk about redesigning this with a binder built in? So you don’t have to wear one in addition to the suit? Or would that be uncomfortable?”

“Wh–What?” Peter ran his fingers through his hair. “Um, what?”

“Is a binder built into your suit too uncomfortable?” Tony asked again. “Like does it need to be something like a corset sort of thing? Or hooks? Or since your suit tightens around you automatically do I need to upgrade where it holds around your chest? Or would you rather just– you alright, Pete?”

“I’m fine.” The fifteen year old covered his face with his hands. “I’m fine, it’s just—” his voice caught and Tony’s eyes softened.

“You just let me know how to make this easier for you, okay? I dont know anything about anything like this, so you’ll have to speak up.”

“Sure thing.” Peter wiped his eyes and sat back up. “Um, thank you, Mr Stark I can’t—”

“Also.” Tony made a show of picking up his tablet, scrolling through some documents until he apparently found which ever one he was looking for. “I noticed you haven’t signed up for the insurance program available to you through the Stark Internship. Recently it was decided that insurance will now cover binders and testosterone injections and all the…things that I don’t know about that goes with that sort of thing.”

“Recently?” Wade repeated, sounding skeptical, and Tony sent him a narrowed eyed glare.

“Yes, Mr. Wilson. Recently. As in within the last ten minutes. Is that a problem?”

Wade held up his hands peacefully, and both the adults turned to look at Peter, who still looked like he might cry any second.

“Mr. Stark—”

“You don’t ever have to be afraid to tell me things like this.” Tony’s voice was gruff, and he pulled his sunglasses out of his shirt pocket to cram on his face. “Tell Aunt May that your internship will be covering any and all costs associated with you… transitioning. Is that the right word? I don’t want to say the wrong– I need to do some research, I think.”

Tony blew out a deep breath and looked between the two of them.

“Anything else you want to tell me? Like that maybe you two are dating? Because Deadpool I swear to god if you are even looking at my kid wrong I’m gonna rip you apart and drop the pieces from the sky. Lets see if you can regenerate from that.”

“Gross.” Wade snorted. “He’s like eight.”

“I’m fifteen guys.” Peter interjected.

It doenst matter!”
“It doesn’t matter!”

Wade and Tony yelled at the same time, then glared at each other for a minute.

“Well kiddo.” Tony sent Peter a smile. “Anything else today? Because I feel like you have homework.”

“Yeah. Some spanish.” Peter nodded and reached to put his shirt back on. “No, I– I guess that’s it.”

“Well, you know where the door is if you want to talk.”

Peter didn’t even hesitate, just stood up and leaned over Tony’s chair to give him a hug. “Thank you. This was…easier than I thought it would be.”

“Whatever you need, Underroos. You know that.” Tony patted his back. “Now get. Spanish homework.”

Tony waved at Peter, glared at Deadpool, and waited until they had left before picking his tablet back up, settling in for a long night of researching everything and anything related to helping support teenagers who were transitioning.

A throat being cleared made him look up.  “For the love of– didn’t I kick you out?”

Wade shrugged. “I’m just laying this out here– the whole protective dad thing one hundred percent does it for me. So if you ever decide to unclench enough to have some fun, call me.”

“Get out!” Tony cried, but he was smiling, and Wade was going to count that as a victory.

“What were you doing?” Peter frowned up at the mercenary when he finally showed up at the door.

“Asking your dad out.”  

“That’s disgusting.” Peter complained and punched Wade’s shoulder hard enough to send him reeling a few steps. “Don’t do that.”

Several minutes later, Peter added. “Mr Stark isn’t my dad.”

“Yeah, you waited too long to say that. I officially vote for Iron Man to be your dad.”

“…yeah me too.”


Just a reminder to all you beauties that are thinking about transitioning, mid transition, or have made it through and are now happily the person you were always meant to be—

You are lovely, you are valid, and you are not burdens or anything else along those lines. Don’t let any other fuckers tell you any different.


Originally posted by lehnsherr-stark

Originally posted by loki-is-sexiest-of-the-sexy

When Loki opened his eyes everything hurt. His body felt sore as if he had hit a mountain. 

“Finally. I thought you dead.” Loki frowned at you when you suddenly leaned forward and placed your hand on his forehead, humming approvingly. “No fever. That’s good.”

Loki pushed your hand away and hissed: “Tell me who you are and where I am.”

“Uh, a little bit demanding, aren’t you?” You laughed and tsked, pointing with your index finger at him. “I’m [Y/N], dummy,  and you’re not going to fool me. Not again. This is not funny anymore.”

“Fool you? Don’t you know who I am?”

Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms. “Yes, you’re Loki. My husband and King of Jotunheim, brother and right hand of Thor, King of Asgard. Blah Blah Blah.” 

Immediately Loki sat up, ignoring the pain, and stared at you. “King? Husband? This is not real. I do not belong here.” He looked around. The room was warm and cozy but looked more like a room carved into a cave. 

“What? What are you talking about?” You tried to push him carefully down but he didn’t even move a centimeter. “Love, you hurt yourself. I don’t know who attacked you but who ever did that was very powerful. You’re still weak, you need rest before you can find them.” 

For a second Loki contemplated what might have happened to him. There had been a fight against the sorcerer Doctor Strange before the man had thrown him through a portal. He cursed silently. He had thought the sorcerer had thrown him through it to send him somewhere far away, but that was not the case.

“Listen to me carefully. I am Loki, but I am not your husband and certainly not King of Jotunheim. I’m from a different universe.” 

“Oh…okay…Who send you then?” You asked confused and stepped back, not sure if the man was like your husband, or a different man. 

“Doctor Strange.”

“Strange, your friend from Midgard? This is unfortunate, Loki, because Stephen is dead. For over a decade now.” 

“What?” He didn’t look sad or shocked but verry pissed. 

“He’s dead.” You said and sighed, thinking about a solution.. “But I think I can get you your- my husbands books. He has a huge collection and the kids would love to help us to find the right spell.”

Loki blinked. “Kids? You have children.”

“Yes, we have a bunch of them. Six boys and god bless, I hope the next one is a girl. ” You gave him a smile, but it vanished as soon as you noticed his pained expression. “Don’t you have children?”

“No, I have not.”

“Well, maybe one day you’ll have some.” You said, the soft smile still on your lips. “Come, we should find a way to bring you home.”

So, from time to time I help out my uncle, who’s a vendor. And the way he works is that he delivers the product, and depending on the store he’ll either stock it on the shelf or leave if for the workers at the store to stock. At the Food store with the Lion as a mascot, he stocks the product, and at the Lo-Bi he stocks it as well. At the Groker, he leaves it for the workers at the store to stock.

Now, he’s got awful knee and hip problems, like when he was younger he had to get extensive surgery on his knees and pins in his hips (not entirely sure what all he had to do). But, this man is 56 years old, and he offers me $30 to work with him on his extremely busy days plus free food. I of course normally help him, he’s like a father to me (and plus I just like having money. Broke college student and he’s offering 30 bucks and food?! Hell yeah). But boy do I have some stories for you here, and here’s just one.

One of which is this woman I’ll call D. D, I assume, bad never been in this store, since she was wandering around like she was lost. Also, just to clear up a few things about this story, I am only allowed to stock and deal with my uncle’s product. That’s it. I’m not allowed to mess with any other product, not allowed to change prices of anything, and I only stock what my uncle brings in (it’s chips, pretzels, cookies, and crackers btw). If my uncle doesn’t bring in sour cream and onion chips, well that just means we don’t have any to stock. I don’t even go to the back room unless my uncle is with me because I’m not an official worker of the Lion company.

But D doesn’t seem to understand this. She comes up and asks me where the milk section is. Now, I don’t mind pointing things out, I go to the Lion store often myself. I point out where the milk section is located and go back to putting up bags of chips. But apparently this wasn’t enough for D, because she just continued to stand there. I noticed she hadn’t moved and asked “Was there something else you needed ma'am?”

D started getting a little irritated with me. “Yes, I want you to go get the milk FOR me!” she says.

I’m a little taken-aback by this for sure. Like, I’m wearing jeans and a Black Veil Brides tshirt and a blue beanie. I obviously don’t work for the Lion company, and I’m sure people who DO work there wouldn’t appreciate her speaking to them like that. So I calmly just say “Ma'am, I’m sorry, but I only deal with this product right here that I’m stocking. I don’t actually work here, but as I’ve said, the milk is over there next to the cold items. If you’ll excuse me though, I need to stock the rest of this product onto this shelf before I go to the next store.”

And that set D off. She started yelling at me about bad customer service, and how she was gonna get me fired, and how she needed my manager’s name right now so I can be fired on the spot. I have bad social anxiety, so when people start yelling at me I either start crying or start to shut down (as in my resting bitch face comes out, my eyes apparently look dead or just extremely exhausted to some people, and my voice drops like two octaves. All semblance of the nice dude you were just talking to disappears). This was once of those times when I started to just shut down.

As D was yelling at me, I noticed my uncle (who looks like a lumberjack just btw, not even gonna lie) walking down the aisle to get over to me. So I just went “Ma'am. I have told you before that I do not actually work here. Now, before I am forced to call security, I think you should stop yelling at me. If you would like to talk to the person in charge of me, turn around and talk to my uncle, because I’m sure he’d like to know why some lady is yelling at his favorite nephew for something that is not my fault.”

D turns around and notices my uncle standing there and immediately starts yelling at him about how I’m an awful person and that I need to be fired right this moment for having horrible customer service. My uncle, without missing a beat, looks behind him and goes “Hey! T! Get this bitch out of here, she’s scaring my nephew!”

As far as I know, D was banned from the store for a couple of months. My uncle didn’t get in trouble at all, especially because I knew everyone who worked in that store and had known the store owner (T) for 6 years. He was the first person to offer me a job over the summer actually, but I had to turn it down because of a summer program at my college. He’s a nice person though, and fired one of his workers on the spot when they were saying some (pretty awful) transphobic comments to me.

Tl;dr: Lady decides to yell at me for not getting her milk for her and my uncle has the store owner (who practically treats me as part of his family) kick her out.

I don't remember | Jughead x Reader | Part 1

*PART 2* | *PART 3*

Summary: You wake up after the big party, definitely not in your bed and you don’t remember how you got here. To be honest you don’t remember anything that happened last night. Why are you not wearing your dress? Why you do you have a big bruise on your arm? Why are you in Jughead Jones’ apartment? What does all this have to do with Reggie? And why you don’t remember anything, even getting drunk?

Words: 1360

Warnings: MISTERY, some cursing, mention of alcohol, some sexual content

A/N(IMPORTANT): Hi! This is my first fanfiction in Riverdale fandom. I hope you will like it if you do I will write the second part. Now the important part: I have dyslexia so forgive me for my grammar, because I’m trying to write correctly, but it does not always work. So I’m sorry again. Feel free to send my any requests, asks etc. I can write anything.  
Also the thoughts are write in italics. (Y/F/C) means your favourite colour. 

Shit, I forget to close the curtains, again. The sunlight on my faced waked me up. I slowly opened one eye and then quickly closed it. That was definitely not my room.

Let’s think. I’m not naked, that’s good, but this is definitely not my t-shirt and my bra is missing. That’s bad. I moved my hand to the other side of the bed. It was empty but slightly warm. I’m not a person who change the bedsides during the sleep. I felt the pain. I had a big bruise on my arm.
What is the last thing I remember? I was trying, but nothing comes to me. I didn’t remember anything from the last night.

I opened my eyes. The room was nice, small but comfy. I sat on the bed. I was wearing the big grey t-shirt with the letter “S” on it. Yup, definitely not mine. I looked for my clothes, but I couldn’t find them. Excellent, I have only t-shirt and underwear. I stood up and opened the door. The living room was brighter than the bedroom, so it took my few seconds before I was able to see clearly. This room was also very small, one table, three chairs and an old TV where the only furniture that could fit in. My eyes stopped one the pair of blue-green ones.

“Good morning (Y/N),” said Jughead quietly. He was sitting at the table with his laptop opened. He was wearing his famous beanie. I looked down at my clothes then again at him.

My mind was screaming. I was in Jughead’s Jones apartment. I didn’t even know that he has an apparent. Basically, I didn’t know much about him. Everyone called him the school freak. He was a best friend of Archie who was one of my bests friends but he never introduced Jughead to me. I never talked to Jughead. I don’t know if I ever told him “hello”.

“What am I doing here?” I said, my voice was a bit little bit shaky.

“Wait. You don’t remember?” He looked confused. And then his faced started to change colour to red.

I shook my head.

“You think… You where… I mean you was…but it wasn’t…” he tried to create a sentence. I didn’t know that the human face can be so red. Normally I would wait to see if it can go even redder but now I need answers.

“Yesterday was a party, right?” I tried to make my voice as confident as I could.

“Yes.” I heard the relief in his voice.

“You wasn’t there, was you?”

“No. I am not a fan of parties.”


“C'mon (Y/N)! It will be fun!”

“Kevin, you know that I have an important test on Monday,” I said looking at my best friend’s big smile.He knew that he won and I didn’t have any more arguments. He was talking about Reggie’s party for almost a week. Well, the whole school was talking about it.

“You already knew all the material! And the party is on Friday so you will have a whole Sunday to review.”

“Fine, you win.”

“What did he win?” I heard Archie’s voice behind me.

“(Y/N) is going to Reggie’s party. That mean you own me 10 bucks, Andrews”

“No, I own you five and the other five to Veronica,” he said.

“(Y/N) is going to the party? I knew it,“ the raven hair girl high-fived with Kevin.

“I literally hate all of you right now,” I laughed

“You know you love us,” Kevin said and hugged me.

“Yeah probably.”


“So… I went to the party with Archie, Veronica and Kevin?” I said my thoughts out loud.

“I don’t think so. You went with Reggie,” He was surprised and so was I.


“I’m definitely not wearing that,” I said when I saw the dress what Veronica was holding.

“It’s perfect for you!” she said

“At least try it!” Kevin was digging in closed. He was in “the Stylist mood”.

“Why I can’t wear jeans and some top?”

“Because no,” Ronnie put the dress in my hand. “Try it!”

“No, I said I’m not wearing that.”

“(Y/N)! Reggie ask you out! You should look perfect!”

“Thank you very much, Ronnie,” I said little bit angry.

“You know that’s not what I mean” Ronnie looked at my and rolled her eyes. “Kevin, maybe you could help me?”

“Yeah (Y/N) you definitely should wear a dress, but this one,” he said and show us the beautiful (Y/F/C) dress.

“Okay, I hope that you are proud. Give my that dress,”  I said.


The awkward silence was filling the small room. I looked at the window next to the table. I tried to recall anything from the party but there was the big black hole in my memory. I looked at Jughead. My biggest mystery. What happened last night? What did I say? What have I done? I felt so stupid. I wasn’t the kind of girl that gets drunk on the party and have sex with a random person. I least I thought that I wasn’t. I didn’t even remember getting drunk.

I looked at Jughead’s face. He looked confused maybe concerned.  It was really hard to read his face.

“Where is my dress?” I ask.

“It’s torn.” He said. “It’s not what I meant. Well it is, but it was torn before you get here… I mean it’s not…” He started to loose in his words.

“Can I have a coffee?” I asked and again I saw the relief on his face.

“Yeah sure. What kind would you like?” He closed his laptop and stood up.

“Just (black/white)” I said


“Hey,” I said when I saw Reggie

“Hey! You look beautiful!” He said and opened the car door for me.


It took only 10 minutes and we were at Reggie’s driveway. The conversation we had was surprisingly interesting. The party already started.

“I left the keys to my brother so he let everyone in” Reggie explained with a smile.


“Thanks,” he said and put his hand on my waist. “Do you have any favourite drink or you let me make you something special?”

“I think I’m going to trust your taste,” I said and he disappeared in the crowd.


“Thanks,” I said when he gave me my coffee. I took a sip. “It’s good” I sited on the chair. 

“I don’t remember anything,” I said quietly.

He looked at me and nodded.

“I remember getting at the party but that’s all.” My voice changed to whisper.

He opened his mouth and then closed it and shook his head.

“You must be cold,” he said finally.

I was little bit confused

“Yeah, I am,” I said surprised. I didn’t notice this before. God, I was still only in the T-shirt and the underwear. I felt embarrassed and tried to covered myself, but Jughead disappeared in the bedroom. After about five minutes he was back and I already finished my coffee.

“Here,” he said and gave me a pair of blue jeans, black t-shirt and his denim jacket. “The bathroom is there” he pointed the door. “Feel free to used shower if you want.”

“Thanks,” I said and took the clothes. “Jughead… how drunk was I?” I said not looking into his eyes.

He brushed back the black hair had fled from his beanie.

“The problem is that you wasn’t drunk (Y/N),” he said.


“Here you go” I heard Reggie voice. He was holding two drinks. I smiled and reach out for one of them. “No, this one is mine!” He said and handed me the other one.

I laughed. "They are exactly the same!“ I said but I took it.

“Yeah, but this one is especially for you,” he winked.

“Thanks,” I said and took a sip.

Silently Falling (L.H.)

Originally posted by fivesosgif

A/N: *Nervously laughs* Hey, guys! I know, I suck at uploading. What I’m about to upload isn’t any better but alas, it’s something. I hope you guys like it :)

Masterlist || Ask


“He’s back.”

“Have you seen him? Military school did that boy some good.”

“I know, right? Talk about muscles.”

“He’s hot.”

“Well, he was hot to begin with, but now he’s just oozing sexy.”

I had heard enough and slammed my locker door shut which made the group of girls gossiping a few lockers down from mine stop talking and look at me.

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Season 7, Time for a Wedding.

Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader.

 A/N: This fic was written for Michelle’s 2k Follower Challenge. My quote was “Of course I didn’t leave it alone. Sue me.”

Summary: You have been hunting with the Winchesters for practically all your life, which makes you a co-protagonist in the supernatural books. There aren’t too many problems with that until you find out that Becky ships you and Sam together. And she’s loud about this particular hobby too, so loud in fact that your longtime boyfriend Dean might not stand her very much. But, whatever, right? Ships are harmless, or they are usually. They’re not anymore when she decides it’s time for hers to become canon, with a long-awaited (in her opinion) wedding.

Word Count: 3600+

Tags: @luci-in-trenchcoats @mrswhozeewhatsis @daydreamingintheimpala @driverpicksthemuusic @mysoul4dean  @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @1dstudyblr @bitch-i-am-a-dean-girl @amoreagron @spnfangirl1965 @aristtewinchesterholmes @thisisthelilith @chelsea072498 @skymoonandstardust @apeshit7x  @aiaranradnay @anokhi07 @tatortot2701 

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Author: @dylan-trash-tbh

Pairing: Stiles x Reader

Words: 1591

A/N: I’ve got a prompt request from @wynnie-dear 💕 thank you for that! I really hope you like it

Thanks again to my number one @golddaggers 💕🐷


Originally posted by stallingdemons

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Lifting the Hammer

Originally posted by corneillee

Fandom: Avengers/Marvel
Paring: Avengers x Reader
Summary: You accidentally lift Thor’s hammer, not aware of what it means. The Avengers are shocked and they refuse to believe you can be a normal human and “worthy.”

“Hey Y/N, do you have my table ready?” Tony Stark said as he lifted up his Iron Man mask.
The rest of the Avengers followed close behind, entering the empty restaurant for their traditional post-battle shawarma. Ever since aliens tore through New York the Avengers made a habit of unwinding in the little shop.

“Your table’s right where you left it,” you replied. “Oh, and thanks for taking the battle somewhere else this time, I’m still picking up rubble from the last one.”
Your comment got a smirk from the Steve and a soft “sorry,” from Bruce.

You noticed there were two additions to the team, a quiet Russian girl in a leather jacket and a red man in a cape who clearly wasn’t from this world.

“Here,” you said handing the two newbies fresh plates. There were a few tired chuckles about Steve’s bad language and Clint’s farm, but the team was quieter than normal. “Let me know if you needs anything else,” you gave a gentle smile to the Russian girl.

You know the Avengers have the place to themselves for the day so you start cleaning so that you can leave whenever they do. By the time you get around to wiping the tables the mood has lifted.

“You have to admit though, Ultron was a little funny.”
“He was evil.”
“Yes, but you can be evil and funny.”
“That’s called being an ass.”
“Wonder where he got that from.”
“Hey! Language!”

You try not to laugh at their conversation as you clear the table next to theirs. The table is covered with empty trays, half eaten shawarma and Thor’s hammer. Apparently Demi-Gods don’t like their stuff to touch the ground. You think to yourself.

There’s no way you can wipe around the giant metal hammer so you lift it off the table and hold it under your arm by the handle. When you finish you set it right back where it was. You suddenly became aware that the shop had gone completely silent. Slowly, you turn around to find all the Avengers were staring at you, eyes wide and mouths hanging open.

“I’m, I’m sorry…Was I not suppose to touch it?” you nervously pull your hands into your apron, worried that you could’ve just tanked any cool points you had with the Avengers. No one responded or even flinched.
“I’m just gonna walk away,” you say trying to walk as calmly as you can to the back of the shop.

Originally posted by mysharona1987

“Y/N, could you come by Stark tower today? Great, thanks.” Tony didn’t really give you a chance to answer or to question how he got your cellphone number. The call caught you off guard, but the second you heard Tony’s voice you knew what it was about. So when you reached the top level of Stark tower and the elevator doors opened to a room full of the Avengers, you decided to face the issue head-on. 

“This is about that hammer, isn’t it? Look I apologized, I didn’t know it was a big deal. I won’t do it again-” Natasha cut you off mid ramble.

“Y/N, we are not here to interrogate you. We just want some answers,” she said.

“Like how you, out of all of us, managed to lift that hammer.” Tony said, waving his hands as he spoke. “What are you exactly? Alien? Experiment? Super solider?”

“I’m nothing. I mean, I’m just human.” you replied.

“That’s not possible. Humans have never been worthy. They are too…normal.” Thor protested. 

“Sorry I disappointed you,” you said bitterly. Thor’s comment made you feel degraded. If he thought so little of people why did he put so much energy into saving them?

“She’s far from normal,” Tony said flicking a screen up above their heads. “Childhood started out simple enough but then came the parents.” Pictures of your family filled the screen and memories you spent years burying filled your head as Tony spoke. He talked through your life like a class presentation, pointing out your ups and downs as if they were company statistics. “Divorce, addiction, even spent some time living on the streets. Y/N, your life sounds like a Lifetime movie.”

“That’s enough! I came here to apologize, not to have who I am and where I come from dug through and deemed not ‘worthy.’” You weren’t shouting but your voice rang through Tony’s living room.
There was no way in hell you were going to let the Avengers see you cry, so you abruptly turned back towards the elevator and jammed the buttons until the doors closed. Knowing full well Tony could watch the elevator footage you kept on a brave face until you were completely out of the building.

“Well that didn’t go as planned.” said Bruce. 
She wasn’t what we planned, she’s human,” Thor said, frustrated.
“She wasn’t what we wanted,” Natasha added.

“But,” said Steve “maybe she’s exactly what we need.”

Saved by an Angel

gif is not mine

Title: Saved by an Angel

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Word count: 1,911

Warnings: Angst & Fluff

A/N: Oh look, a Castiel fic that I have all ready for all of you! I hope you like this! Feedback is welcomed and appreciated! I love you all so much!! <3

The wind blew through your hair as you sat on a bench in the park.  It was delightfully breezy and not too cold.  You had your earbuds in, listening to music as the wind tousled your hair softly.  You dipped your head as a single tear escaped your eye.  As the tear fell you felt a small rush of wind behind you.  You figured it was just the wind so you had ignored it.

You almost fell of the bench startled at the sudden figure that sat down beside you.  You had not seen him before.  You almost got the knife that you had always carried in your pocket out, but you were suddenly wrapped in this man’s arms.  You almost fought the strange man off, but you oddly felt safe.  You wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his chest.  He had on a trench coat and a suit, but his tie wasn’t on right.  You thought that it was odd, but you liked it oddly enough.

“Who are you,” you whispered thinking he wouldn’t hear you.

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Friends With Benefit [Part 3]

Originally posted by vitunkpoppi

Author: b0blegum

Pairing: College Student Lim Changkyun x Reader (x Yoo Kihyun)

Rating: G

Genre: Smutty-Fluff

Status: On Going

Part: Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - …

Papers piling up on your desk, abandoned as you laying on your bed watching your favorite TV series with one hand cupping a small bowl of Lucky Charms.

As your eyes fixed on the screen and you mouthed a curse word when the main role successfully conned the poor young woman, your phone dinged. With eyes still attached to the screen, you grabbed your phone and opened the message.

It was from Changkyun. Quickly, you folded your legs and sat upright, focused on reading his message.

On my way to your place. Ten mins.

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ready, freddie?

Fred Weasley felt the world come crushing down around him, the ground was shaking and everything around him was burning to the ground and the last thing he remembered was his older brother joking as he duelled. He had always made fun of Percy for being the stuck up one, for once he had let it go and Fred had to let it go, too. He felt his body become too heavy to carry and he slowly let it all go.

Fred opened his eyes to an unfamiliar place, he was staring at the ceiling but he had no idea what he was seeing. Then a strong set of hands gripped him and before he pulled him up he whispered “Ready, Freddie?” and he was standing but he could swear he just.. died. Fred turned around to see who it was that helped him stand up and was hit by the man’s striking resemblance to his mother. There was not one but two of this guy and he had heard about them from Bill and his mother. 

“Fabian and Gideon Prewett?”

“Exactly” they answered simultaneously and Fred suddenly thought about his own other half that liked to talk at the same time as he did. “George!”

“He’s alright Freddie, he is alright” said one of the twins as he put his hands on Fred’s shoulders. 

“Where the bloody hell am I?”

“Welcome to afterlife,” revealed one of the twins, Fred still had no idea which was which. He felt his heart clench at the thought of his mother not being able to tell him and George apart and how it must have been an awful reminder of her little brothers, everyday. Fabian and Gideon had the same structure as Molly but Fred could swear he could see George’s eyes looking at him.

“I’m Fabian,” said the slightly thinner twin as he extended an hand. Fred didn’t need to shake hands he needed hugs, firm ones at that. So he just ignored Fabian’s hand as he hugged the man who was unmistakably his uncle that he never got the fortune to meet.

“Alright, buddy” laughed Fabian as he hugged Fred back.

“And that makes you Gideon” Fred said as he pulled away from Fabian and launched himself on Gideon.

“Oh, he’s a smart one” teased Gideon as he patted Fred on the back softly. 

“It is an honour to meet you. Mom mentioned you and Mad-Eye talked about with so much pride–” Fred took a deep breath, he must be here too. The fallen warrior. “He is here isn’t he? Mad-Eye?”

“Of course he is ickle Freddie, he is with Dumbledore” replied Gideon as he pointed to Fred’s former Headmaster, who looked younger than he did his last year.

“Mad-Eye always told us how it took five Death Eaters to, umm–”

“It was seven, but who’s counting?” joked Gideon as he winked and Fred felt a shiver down his spine. How was it that even the way they talked was so reminiscent of George even though they have never met them?

 “Why am I here?”

“We are not sure ourselves, we think it is because we all have something in common and we all have something we’ve left behind, something we are not ready to let go of yet,” explained Fabian. “We weren’t ready to let go of Molly just yet then she started popping all of you out one right after the other and now we stay for the fun of it.”

“Not that there has been anything remotely fun ever since Cedric arrived,” interrupted Gideon, his eyes focused on something Fred couldn’t see. “We are so proud of you Freddie but you know, the good die young.”

Fred remembered the day Cedric left his now older life very clearly, nothing had been the same. He remembered the kind face of the Hogwarts Champion and the way Harry held on to him as they reappeared in the middle of the Quidditch pitch. 

“We want you to meet some people here if that’s alright, looks like we will be together for a while now” suggested Fabian after clearing his throat and taking a deep breath. Well, now Fred know how he got his ability to change subjects almost instantly.

“Do you remember that ridiculous map you used with Georgie?” asked Fabian.

“That map is not ridiculous, it saved our arses hundreds of times from Filch.”

“I think he is in love, Fabian” teased Gideon. “Do you know who owned that map?”

“Umm, the Marauders?”

“But do you know who they are?!” said Fabian impatiently.

“No,” answered Fred, a little taken aback.

“You have met Sirius and Remus right, Padfoot and Moony?”

“WHAT THE– really?!” shouted Fred, he had met the people who created that awesome piece of paper and he didn’t know.

“And that,” said Gideon as he pointed to a man who looked like he could be the twin of Harry, “is James Potter, or as you may know him Prongs.”

“You are fucking with me,” babbled Fred. 

“Now, now, Freddie did you kiss Molly with that mouth?” laughed Fabian as he stared at Fred with a shine in his blue eyes.

Fred was in awe. Him and George owed them so much and he had returned the Map to it’s owner’s son without intending. For the first time he felt excited, he looked up to them so much without knowing them. The original pranksters of Hogwarts.

“But there was a fourth one. Wormtail?”

“Peter Pettigrew. Well, fortunately that bastard is not here.” complained Gideon and Fred didn’t understand what was going on so he stared at the twins with a confused face. “He is the rat who betrayed James and Lily. He was their best friend, now he’s a pathetic mess of a Death Eater.”

“We know he is dead, he just never made it here even if he did, we didn’t see it. We were friends with him, too.” he said guiltily. “None of us understood he was the mole.”

“We should get back Gideon,” said Fabian. “We were watching the war with them, we got to keep an eye on them, everything’s a bloody mess at the moment.”

“Can I watch Georgie and the others?” asked Fred. 

“Of course you can,” they replied together and they walked next to the growing crowd around James and Lily Potter.

Until George arrived to where ever he was, Fred had a new home and apparently a new family, too. He stared down at his twins pain stricken face as he duelled a masked Death Eater with Percy by his side. 

For the first time ever they were separated and this was their final adventure together whether they liked it or not. Fred felt like he should start getting used to the fact that this will be the hardest thing they will ever have to do without each other.

“Ready, Georgie?”

Plus Sized - Nick Robinson

“Can you do a Nick imagine where the reader is plus size and she is very insecure about, to the point where she doesn’t even want him to hold her at night”

Whitened knuckles gripped tightly at the sink as I stared at my own tired reflection. My eyes were bloodshot red and face was flushed pink from my previous crying spree, why was I like this?

I let go of the sink, hands going down to pinch the skin on my soft thighs. I glared down at the pair, why can’t they be smaller?

There was no doubt I was insecure about the way I looked, I had seen the models and stick thin women Nick had worked with, their looks being not so similar to my own. Letting go of my thick thighs I forced myself to look in the mirror, the vicious thoughts and opinions already running wild around my brain.

People often told me that I was fine the way I was and that I should be happy with myself. I wanted so hard to believe that was true and finally be able to smile at my own reflection; yet here i was, angrily hating on myself for the extra weight I carried. Plus size, a phrase that was loosely thrown around when the tabloids talked about Nicks Girlfriend, me. Did it really matter?

How could Nick love me when i didn’t even love myself?

Shaking my head I brushed out my creased bed top and switched off the light before exiting the small bathroom. My feet padded softly on the wooden floor of my apartment as I traveled down the hall, heavy thoughts in my head.

My stomachs churned nervously as I reached the door of our bedroom, I felt sick at the thought of another night of Nick trying to be close to me again.

It sounds silly doesn’t it? You don’t want your boyfriend near you? Stupid! Only that wasn’t it. I was afraid, I always had been. I hated when Nick tried to hold Me, how would he react to the feeling of my squishy body as he tried to hold me close? Exactly. I hated being insecure enough to not want my own boyfriend to touch me in fear of him being disgusted. It Sucks.

I opened the door softly, entering the dimly lit room. I immediately spotted the boy in question inside the large bed, chest bare and dark hair messy as he peered at the small screen in his large hands.

I crawled in next to him, careful not to get too close before laying down and pulling the covers up to my chest, facing Nick.

He put down his phone and lay down too, turning the lights off before doing so. He gripped my hand in his own and began to play with my fingers, I pulled them away and laughed nervously before turning over and shutting my eyes. Please just go to sleep.

I felt him move closer, my heart hammering in my chest as he did so, insecurity being at its highest as he laced an arm around my waist and snuggled into me. I should enjoy it, I want to enjoy it! I just- ugh!

I shifted my body away slightly and squeezed my eyes tightly shut praying for this awful feeling to disappear. The lamp on the bedside table switched on and Nick sat up abruptly.

“Y/N” his voice was concerned, but I kept my eyes shut, willing myself to sleep.

“Y/N please” his hands gripped my shoulders and turned me towards him,his handsome face illuminated by the lamp glow ; eyes glistening with worry.

“Have I done something wrong?” He sounded hurt, the tone breaking my heart in half as he stared at me. I couldn’t let him think it was him.

“It’s nothing Nick honest-” I tried

“Nothing? Every time I come close to you, you move away like I’ve got some kind of disease! What’s going on y/n!?” The volume increased as he used his hands to show the distance between us in the bed.

“It’s stupid honestly, let’s just go to sleep” I didn’t want him to think I was pathetic, he didn’t need to know the dangerous dark thoughts that were trapped in my mind.

“No. You’re going to tell me what’s wrong” he gripped my chin in his long fingers, my bare face now being level with his own as he searched my eyes for any sign of explanation.

“It’s not you” my voice was weak as I started, a large knot forming in my stomach. “I hate being like this, i’m so sorry” my eyes stung with tears but I wouldn’t cry.

“Y/N what are you talking about?” He was now sat in front of me, his long figure slouched but still looking better than ever. I tugged nervously at my own shirt, scared it was clinging to all the wrong places.

“It’s not you okay? I don’t like you touching me because of the way my body is. I don’t want you to be disgusted or put off” I avoided his eyes, wincing as he took in a sharp breath.

“The way your body is? What the hell is that supposed to mean!?” He seemed angry, and I was really clueless as to why.

“I’m not as skinny as other girls you dated and I just- I’m plus sized. I don’t like the feel of my body or the way I look okay? I don’t want you feeling all of my chub and rolls and stuff I just-” I was cut off when Nick put his large hand over my mouth. My eyes widened at the action, words no longer flowing out of my mouth.

“Shut up” sorry, what? “I hate hearing you talk about yourself like this. Rolls?Chub? Seriously y/n” he moved his hand and gripped both of mine in his own, I stayed silent once again.

“You have none of those things, and even if you did, it would not matter one bit. I love YOU and your body does not affect my decision on that what so ever. You’re absolutely beautiful and I wouldn’t want you any other way” a smile tugged at my lips but I still felt a slight nagging in the pit of my belly.

“But-” I was cut off once again.

“And I would NEVER be disgusted by you. It hurts me that you think I would even care about the stupidest thing like weight or the way you feel when I touch you. I love the way you look and how you feel, you give the best cuddles and I want more of them, so stop hating on your beautiful self. Size is not important!” He pinched my pink cheek slightly and gave me a full blown smile. His eyes looked tired but they still shone with happiness as he glanced at me.

I nodded, my chest feeling warm as he smiled down at me. He made me feel more beautiful than anyone had in a while.

“I love you” the words slipped out of my mouth followed by a genuine smile, his own smile widening as I tugged him back into the bed.

This time when his arms encircled me and pulled me into him, I didn’t move away. It felt different and although I still drowned in worry about how he felt about it I ignored the nagging feeling and leant into him. I could finally begin the journey to loving myself with the help of my brilliant boyfriend.


Okay so, I loved this request very much and it hit home for me. I myself am not the skinniest person and I feel as though this imagine included a lot of my own thoughts and feelings about it. I wanted to add a note on this end of this imagine to say that this imagine is not intended to offend or upset anyone.
The views are something I wrote from what I know and I also know that some people do not share the same views about being plus sized or about other sizes of bodies.
I do not at all have anything against those people who are skinny or not plus sized, everyone is different and I know everyone can finds it equally as hard to love themselves or be happy with their body, no matter what they look like.
That leads on to my next point, every one of you is absolutely beautiful, regardless of size. Size is something that does not matter and I wanted to make a point of that. It’s such a hard thing to love your body and be happy in your own skin and I know a lot of people are fighting their own battles with this issue, I’ve been there too. No one in this world is the same and I think it is so important to concentrate and love yourself before you care too much about what other people look like.
You’re a bit heavier than that girl over there? Cool! That girl over there carries a little bit more weight than you? That’s cool too! Everyone is great in their own way and size and Weight does not affect that at all.
Be happy with who you are because you only get to live this life once and do you really want to waste it being unhappy and living up to stupid people’s opinions and expectations?

Lastly, if anyone has any questions or thoughts, my box is ALWAYS open. If you’re ever feeling shitty or needing someone to talk to,I am always here and happy to talk. Or even if you just want to chat and make a friend, I’m down for that too! Love you all v v much, I hope you enjoy this imagine:)

Three quarters of dream, one of reality

Warning: hand jobs

We all know because of whom I wrote this. And we all know because of which song. The problem is I heard the story and wrote this thing before checking the lyrics, so it doesn’t really match. And I wrote it, checked lyrics, decided to rewrite this, but in the end – I just like it so I didn’t, so there you go.

“I can’t believe you dragged me out there for our date. We don’t get many of those, you know?” Jongdae was reeling. In his mind – rightfully so. Their schedules never matched. And when he said never he meant never. In his line of work he didn’t get a lot of free time, and to make matter worse she was a student, working late gastro shifts on top of that.

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Speed Dating by SBK

A/N:  3rd installment for the Richonnefics’ Date Night Series.  A request by @darknessstartstorise.  Hope you like it.

Michonne glances around curiously at the luxurious hotel as Sasha pulls forward and checks in with the valet.  She wonders for the tenth time why she allowed her best friend to convince her to attend this event.  She knew it was a bad idea from the start especially since Sasha was being a bit impulsive after her break up with Abe.  She tries her best not to remember the phone call she got from a clearly upset Sasha informing her that Abe had decided to go back to his ex-girlfriend, Rosita.  I never liked him much anyway.

She is brought back to the present as her car door is opened and a hand is reaching inside to assist her.  She accepts graciously and waits for Sasha to join her before the two walk inside.  “I really don’t think we should’ve signed up for this.”

“Would you relax a little?  Besides we’ve paid the fees, we’re here, and we’re going to make the best of it,” Sasha determines.

Michonne takes a deep breath and follows her friend, admiring the hotel’s décor and greenery.  She glimpses down for a quick look at her lacy blue dress and natural colored pumps, wondering if she should check her make up one last time.  She elbows Sasha at her side.  “Ladies room.”

Her friend gives a curt nod in agreement and they round a corner, following the signs.  Several minutes later, they arrive at their event for the evening, the room already teeming with music and conversation.  They check in, retrieve their name badges, and make their way to the bar.  They’d barely taken their first sip before the entrance doors were closed and a succession of bell rings ensued to get their attention.

The hostess is a red head and looks familiar to Michonne as she visited the web site after Sasha announced she’d signed them up.

“Welcome to tonight’s event.  My name is Ana and I’ll be your host.”  She takes a deep breath and yells excitedly, “Let’s do some speed dating!”  She goes on to recite the rules, instructing the females to remain at their assigned table as the men would be the ones to move from one to the other.  “Please feel free to use the index cards available at your tables.  They are just conversation openers if you need them.”

Michonne looks around the room quickly, trying to size up the men for Sasha.  She already knew she wouldn’t have any luck at a place like this.  The things we do for friends.  She was just about to tap said friend’s shoulder when she glimpses a pair of bright blue eyes looking her way.  She averts her eyes, looking to her opposite side to see if the guy could possibly be checking someone else out.  She giggles to herself and wonders if he’s into guys since there were only a couple of males to her left.

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Borrowed T-Shirt (A Kyungsoo One Shot)

“It’s 10,000 words! How am I supposed to write 10,000 words?” Shinah complained loudly from the bed, kicking her legs in frustration.

“I don’t even know 10,000 words.” She looked down at her assignment sheet with a frown.

“Dummy. They don’t have to be unique words.” Kyungsoo, said flatly without looking up from his computer screen across the room.

“Nobody asked you Oppa!” Shinah shouted in his direction.

Kyungsoo looked up at Shinah and raised his eyebrows. Then he waved to the empty room in a huff.

“There’s nobody else here. Who the hell are you talking to?” He asked in an annoyed tone.

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“When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth.”

#i am so here for “legendary” clarke griffin#and all that entails#and hearing grounders talk about the woman who #fell from the sky #could destroy hundreds in seconds #killed what she loved to win a war #and burned a mountain alive for defying her #but when it comes down it it #that’s not what she wanted #and she may one day feel like her name is unrecognizable #from all the blood it’s soaked in #all the weight it carries #the responsibility and expectations that even her own people put on it #but then she hears bellamy say it #and it’s nothing other that a reminder that there is and will always be at least one person who will see her as a human being #as just clarke #and it will remind her of who she really is #when her name was stolen from her by a world she was never prepared for

The Winter Soldiers - Part One

Summery: In 1993 Hydra put you under Cyro freeze and after twenty four years sleeping, your past companion Bucky Barnes aka the Winter Soldier finds you and brings you out into the real world but the both of you struggle with your past as Hydra’s Winter Soldiers.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1,812

Warnings:  Violence and Language (?)

A/N: This is the first part to my first fic so tell me what you think and enjoy :))

You woke to annoying beeping everywhere. Your eyes were so heavy and you couldn’t get them open but you could feel the restraining straps around your ankles and wrists. Panic filled your veins and impulse took control as you ripped the straps from what seemed like a bed and punched the first thing that laid hands on you.

You flailed your arms and legs as chaos erupted around you. You tried opening your eyes again and when you finally did blinding lights greeted you uncomfortably. You threw more punches into oblivion when a cold fist connected with your jaw and everything went black again.


Laughter woke you up the second time but this time whoever they were, they chained you up big time.

“She can’t up those, I mean I can’t,“ a strong deep voice explained.

“Yeah but what if she’s stronger than you Buck?” Another voice teased. 

Without trying to restrain you opened your eyes letting the harsh light greet them again. You looked straight up at the ceiling counting the tiles trying to calm yourself down. Your jaw ached sending sparks of pain every time you clenched it.

“Which one of you punks punched me?” You asked weakly calling out to the voices you heard just now. Your voice raspy and low, not how you thought it would come out but honestly you didn’t even remember the sound of your own voice. 

“She’s awake!”

“Because I’m going to get you back for that,” you finished your threat wincing in pain.

“Sorry about the punch, you’re going to have a nasty bruise,” a blond man with a boyish face answered. You sat up taking in his strong built body. The familiarity caused panic to rise again.

“No!” You yelled flailing your arms as much as possible loosening the chains.  

Blondie backed up, “what did I do?”

Your hands were sweating because you knew what came next. Words echoed in your head making your brain pound. Another face loomed over you but this time it was slightly recognizable. This was it, more murderous missions, more blood spilt, and the guilt of killing innocents for Hydra.

“She thinks we’re Hydra,” a deadpanned voice said. 

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anonymous asked:

This Superman guy's pretty great, huh?

Okay. Figured I’d write this at some point, seems like as good a place as any to do it.

Yes: Superman is pretty great. The character’s great, the costume’s great, the cast is great, the powers are great, the scope of the kind of adventures you can tell with him is great, the mythology’s great, the power he has to inspire on the page and in the real world is great. I’ve known that since I was…I dunno, three? Two? I’m told he was my first three-syllable word. I’m not sure what my first exposure would have been; Superman the Animated Series was airing when I was a kid, my dad had the Fleischer cartoons on tape, we’d watch reruns of The Adventures of Superman whenever they aired, I had some odd issues of Superman Adventures, I had picture books like The True Story of Superman, Superman: Slippery When Bad and I Hate Superman!, I even had an abridged version of John Byrne’s Man of Steel many years before I would change my tune on it. It was well past the whole nine yards of lunchboxes and Superman-themed birthday parties - mom and dad were Lois-Mom and Jimmy-Dad for a bit, who got a call one time from a teacher in preschool that I had dramatically taken off my shirt to show the temporary S-Shield tattoo I’d gotten on my chest. My dad ended up having to drive to every Burger King in the area asking for any spare Superman toys because I couldn’t stand that they had been discontinued before I could get them all and I was making life hell for everyone in the process. I couldn’t play Superman with other kids on the playground, because I’d demand we recreate the scripts of adventures verbatim.

Around seven or thereabouts though, while I never developed any of the disdain towards him that so many seem to have, I drifted away for a while towards Batman and Spider-Man. Purely by coincidence, this is also the age I was diagnosed with Asperger’s.

It’s not something I talk about a great deal these days. Not because of some sense of shame, to be as clear as possible about that right upfront. It isn’t even a matter of my especially being able to pass as neurotypical - take me out of my comfort zone into any number of common social circumstances and that illusion falls by the wayside. But I’ve carved out I feel a pretty decent niche where I’m typically fairly satisfied and able to function at a level that meets my own standards, and as a result it’s usually background radiation of my life, not something that comes up unbidden until a situation demands I start thinking about it again. Even when I do, thinking about it much often leaves me feeling self-conscious and self-indulgent, and convinced I’m either being stupidly self-aggrandizing or stupidly self-pitying about it.

So naturally, even once I really started to get back into Superman in earnest at 13 alongside comics in general and he became my favorite character in earnest, there are some associations it took me awhile to make.

I’m not quite certain when I started to think about it, but the structure of how I thought about it I know came about thanks to @postcardsfromspace‘s (excellent) article I See Your Value Now on learning about their own Asperger’s. I doubt it’s an association any creators for the character have given any thought (aside from maybe Mark Waid, given that in an interview on Birthright he specifically noted how his idea for Martha Kent becoming a UFO buff in response to her son was meant as a parallel to parents of kids with autism having to become self-taught experts on the subject), and all a Google search immediately turns up is comparing a young Clark’s troubles with his X-Ray vision in Man of Steel to sensory overload in children with autism. It’s not something that would have likely even occurred to me if it wasn’t for that…well, that I have Asperger’s, and Superman’s a special interest, and as a default I’m always ready on some level to connect any input I get back to him.

Obviously, there’s Clark himself. He screams it, right? Likely just because of a general conflation of ‘nerd’ traits with ‘Aspie’ traits, but it’s all there right on the surface: shy, awkward, naïve, can’t read a room to save his life, unaware of some general social conventions given his penchant for drab suits, horn-rimmed glasses and fedoras well into the 21st century, either without many friends or locked into a rigid and small social circle, by all appearances more alive behind a screen than he ever is to anyone’s face. Even the more confident takes on him, such as in the Reeves TV show or the New 52 Action Comics, seem to lack a social grace or two, seem to grate on the people around him. Precision-constructed by the greatest man to ever live to be beneath the notice of his peers in every way imaginable, of course you end up with that guy.

…except even when Clark’s purely a post-Smallville construct on Superman’s part, he’s not made out of nothing, is he? The Kansas boy who grew up reading A Tale of Two Cities as a toddler and obsessively pouring over astronomy textbooks for clues can hazard a guess of what it feels like to be a nerd. The guy who grew up on a farm who flies and can accidentally shatter steel in his grip is entirely familiar with how it feels to awkwardly maneuver around in a crowded city. The square who grew up in the middle of nowhere constantly getting accused of not knowing how the world really works can probably express a little doubt over his own self-awareness and naiveté if he absolutely has to. Clark Kent is historically built on Superman’s own worst image of himself.

(This incidentally, along with plenty of other storytelling-based reasons, is why I intensely dislike it when Clark’s the ‘real guy’, and therefore confident and charming and on top of things; it’s Kryptonite to the ideas in play there.)

And the shyness? The sense of being out of place? The - let’s get right to the heart of it - alien-ness?

Superman’s pretty cool. He’s friendly; he’s understanding; he’s clever and kind and determined. He’s also something of a loner who’s often surprisingly loathe to open up to people, and even once he’s married he still needs plenty of time to himself to think things through. He’s someone who when he puts on the costume always engages with the world in a very specific context: where his natural talents are most obviously geared towards being helpful, where so long as he can pull off Sweet and Composed and make some speeches when he has to people will accept him with open arms. Being Superman puts him in a situation where he can show his best self, personally and socially and morally, and be accepted for his goodness in a way nerdy, quiet Clark Kent never can.

And god, does he need that acceptance.

That’s often applied to painfully maudlin stories of him hand-wringing over his social impact on humanity and whether he can save all the little children of the world from cancer or whatever, but it’s still something else that seems to be pretty consistent across the various interpretations. Unless he’s barreling ahead with a degree of self-confidence bordering on flat-out arrogance, he’s always worried about how he seems in the eyes of the world. Whether that means Red Kryptonite externalizing anxieties of old age or powerlessness or throwing him into dreamworlds of hate or irrelevance, or wondering whether he can justify one of his two identities, or pondering his alien nature, or questioning what Superman means as a symbol to the world, or being flat-out replaced, or even protecting his secret, it’s always the same question refracted through endless prisms: Can I belong here? Am I doing well enough, being useful enough, to deserve what I’ve been given? Will they find me out? Would they ever accept me if they knew the truth?

For all the joy that comes with who he is, that’s his life too: it’s growing up in Smallville knowing there’s no one else who’ll ever know the distinct timbre of air-pressure changes when a hummingbird slows down its wingbeat a fraction, no one he could talk about the sight of snowflakes assembling themselves out of freezing raindrops to without sounding as if he’s out of his mind, no one who could fully empathize with having to practice normal human reactions to the world. It’s spending half his life trying to be a normal guy among normal people and failing because of his own insecurities, the other half really being able to do his best in his own element and being the person he wants to be, but never being sure if it’s enough for those around him. It’s finally meeting other Kryptonians or superheroes but realizing even their own experiences diverge so sharply that the communication gap remains, that as a matter of circumstance he is and will always remain fundamentally other in some ways, no matter how deeply he connects with other people.

His relationships seem to fit the mold too - it works pretty dang well that his two best friends are a coworker who’s simultaneously the cool dude who takes him under his wing and the kid who uncritically looks up to him, and someone with the same ‘hobby’ who’s himself pretty well-known for having issues opening up to people. Or that his wife falling in love with him is framed in terms of her looking past him at his most vulnerable and awkward and unable to fit in to see the person he actually is when no one else can, while a major part of his love for her is her being the kind of person who’s pushy enough to force him out of his shell and some of his more self-defeating behaviors.

And that his worst enemy, in spite of his aura of smug self-regard, doesn’t seem able to relate to other people on a fundamental level or manage to work with them very well when he’s not in full control of the situation, even as he needs them to accept and validate him. Lex fails because he’ll never work to bridge that gap in the same way as Superman, seeing that as a ridiculous and unrealistic imposition, and Superman as an intruder into his personal universe trying to force his unrealistic standards of “acknowledge other people and what they think about things” on him while at the same time agonizingly, bafflingly succeeding where Lex fails. He’s the embodiment in that regard of the frustrated, shamed instinct of the isolated that you’re already great, so people should already love and understand you and it’s their fault for not getting it (hence for instance how in All-Star he overtly sees the world and the relationships that make it up in a coldly material manner where people naturally flock to only the most outwardly great around them - colored by a sexist streak that’s taken on a whole new degree of toxic prominence when it comes to the socially awkward in the near-decade since the book’s conclusion).

(It also works that Superman’s character in All-Star is defined by his disconnect from humanity, and that his big character arc is having to become emotionally honest enough to talk with the people who love him about what he’s going through.)

Again, clearly none of this is the intent on the part of those who’ve worked with him over the years. This is by no means the bedrock or secret key to what makes him tick; it’s at best a component in a much larger machine. I’m sure if you dug into it enough you could find something problematic in the proposition, and I won’t pretend there couldn’t be characters closer in every sense to my own experiences.

But none of them would be Superman.

Sure, it helps that I grew up with him, and that he’s a character with enough detail and weird ideas and character work that I can delve into the minutia of him in a way I can’t with anyone else to the same extent other than Batman, but beyond all that, he’s Superman. He’s The Guy, the best, and that I can see myself in him in *any* way means more than it ever could with any other character, because that makes him being a role model mean something else.

For all I talked about how lonely he is above he’s still an idealist, still has friends and a job and weird personal hobbies at his personal ice-cave and a way to express his highest, best self in a way that’s loved by the people around him. The way he sees things differently can be accepted and shared even as he understands and cares for the people around him. He’s happy. And that he can start from a place of being the only one of his kind and end up a good person, the best person, in part because he knows better than anyone what it is to be alone and why others matter so much? That has more weight to people, and to me, than can be expressed.

I mentioned before I’m not wild about Clark being the exclusive true identity in part because of how much it messes with this. I’ve also said elsewhere that while both Clark and Superman are inseparable and true parts of his identity that can’t be denied as important aspects of who he is, if I absolutely had to choose one as being the ‘real’ one I’d go with Superman. And I can pick apart any number of storytelling reasons for that, but thinking about how I relate to Superman in the way I do made me realize something else. I have to see Superman as the truest self because Superman’s who he is at his best, when he’s not afraid or ashamed and can show himself in all his alienness to everyone and be accepted for it. That’s the dream, right? I’m no Superman, but I’ve gotta believe in him, ‘cause I’ve gotta believe in me.

I’m pretty sure some of you can relate.